It wouldn't be fair to say that conservatives cherish property

In the measured and piercing words of Michael Kinsley, a modern philosopher of politics and the pen, we find a truth that cuts through the fog of ideology: “It wouldn't be fair to say that conservatives cherish property the way liberals cherish equality. But it would be fair to say that the takings clause is the conservatives' recipe for judicial activism just as they say liberals have misused the equal protection clause.” These words, keen as a blade, reveal the symmetry of human conviction—that even those who decry excess in others often mirror it themselves. Kinsley speaks not to divide, but to unveil the hidden balance of the political world, where both freedom and fairness, property and equality, stand in perpetual tension. His words remind us that each side, though claiming virtue, may fall to the same temptation: the urge to bend justice to its own desire.

The origin of this quote lies in Kinsley’s commentary on the enduring struggle between liberal and conservative interpretations of the American Constitution. To understand it, one must recall the great pillars upon which the republic rests. For liberals, the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment stands as a sacred shield against discrimination—a call to ensure that no citizen, regardless of race, gender, or station, is denied dignity under the law. Yet critics have long accused liberal judges of expanding this principle beyond its intent, of turning equality into a tool for social engineering. In turn, conservatives, defenders of individual rights and private property, found their own battleground in the Takings Clause of the Fifth Amendment, which guards against the government seizing property without just compensation. And just as liberals sought to elevate equality beyond words on parchment, conservatives began to elevate property to the same sanctity—stretching the clause to oppose even the most modest regulations, claiming each law a theft of liberty.

Here, Kinsley’s insight shines like a lantern in a chamber of mirrors. For he is not condemning one side, but illuminating the irony that each—liberal and conservative alike—has its own form of judicial activism. Each side, in its zeal to protect what it loves, risks transforming justice into a weapon of preference. To the conservative, property becomes not merely a possession but a symbol of autonomy; to the liberal, equality becomes not merely fairness but a creed of salvation. Both are noble in origin, yet both, when pursued without restraint, may blind the seeker to balance. The lesson is as old as law itself: every virtue, when made absolute, becomes its own vice.

Consider, for a moment, the story of the Athenian democracy. In its earliest days, Athens was torn between the rich who owned the land and the poor who bore the burden of debt. The great lawgiver Solon arose, not to favor one side, but to restore harmony. He declared that the debts of the poor should be forgiven and that no man should be enslaved for poverty. Yet he also safeguarded the rights of property, understanding that without stability, freedom would crumble. In Solon’s wisdom, we see the eternal truth of Kinsley’s words: that justice demands balance, not dominance—that the law must protect both the rich man’s field and the poor man’s dignity. When one side claims the law entirely, corruption follows, and the republic sickens.

Kinsley’s statement, though spoken in the modern tongue, carries the weight of ancient philosophy. It is a call to humility in the face of power, a reminder that even those who wield justice with conviction must beware the mirror of righteousness. The conservative who decries the activist judge for expanding equality must ask himself: do I not do the same when I expand property rights beyond their intent? The liberal who champions fairness must ask: am I not tempted, too, to stretch the law until it fits my vision of the good? Both, though they differ in creed, are bound by the same human flaw—the yearning to shape the world through the force of belief, rather than the discipline of truth.

And yet, there is wisdom in this paradox. For just as fire refines metal through heat, so do these competing visions refine democracy through struggle. The takings clause and the equal protection clause—though born of different concerns—together form the pillars of liberty and justice. One guards the individual’s right to keep; the other, the collective’s right to be seen as equal. Neither alone can sustain a just nation. The state that worships property becomes a tyranny of wealth; the one that worships equality without restraint becomes a tyranny of conformity. Between them lies the narrow path of freedom, where rights and responsibilities walk hand in hand.

The lesson, then, is clear for those who would lead or judge or simply live as citizens: seek balance, not victory. Defend property, but not at the expense of compassion; defend equality, but not at the expense of freedom. The wise man does not curse the opposing camp, for he knows that both truth and error dwell on every side. Instead, he listens, he discerns, and he tempers his zeal with understanding. As the ancients taught, the just ruler is not the one who rules by power, but by moderation.

So let these words of Michael Kinsley be carried forward as a warning and a guide. When the world divides into those who worship property and those who worship equality, remember that both are fragments of a greater whole. Justice is not a weapon for one faction, but a covenant for all. The law, like the sword, must be balanced—sharp enough to defend, but steady enough to restrain. For in the end, the health of a nation lies not in the triumph of its ideologies, but in the humility of its wisdom: the courage to know that truth, like light, belongs not to one side of the flame, but to both.