Whiskey & Rhetoric: Single-Barrel Ethos for the Liberty Movement

Raise your hand if you’ve ever been disappointed by a product. Now keep your hand up if that product killed you. Sounds crazy in 2024, but that was the gamble for consumers of one product in early 20th-century America: Bourbon.

Bourbon’s story is a rollercoaster of American history. Born on the frontier, it was the spirit of choice for many early Americans. But then came Prohibition, and suddenly, your whiskey might be more deadly than delicious. Even after the repeal of Prohibition, the bourbon industry struggled. Liquor had lost trust with American consumers. Cheap blends and counterfeits flooded the market. Bourbon became your grandfather’s drink, gathering dust on liquor store shelves.

Fast forward to 1984. Not Orwell’s but Elmer’s.

Elmer T. Lee was a master distiller of whiskey at Buffalo Trace. He was a war vet, an engineer, and a man who spent decades honing his craft. In a market saturated with blended whiskeys, carefully crafted to appeal to the widest possible audience—that is, it appealed to no one in particular—Elmer proposed something radical.

Instead of a new blend, he introduced Blanton’s Single Barrel Bourbon—named after Col. Albert B. Blanton who often pulled a special, single barrel of bourbon from the warehouse to share with his friends. Single-barrel bourbon was already big among early whiskey nerds, but no one dared to share this nectar with an already skeptical public. So single-barrel bourbon wasn’t just a new product; it was a revolution in a bottle. To understand what made it revolutionary, we need to dive into what single-barrel bourbon really means.

Most bourbons are blended. Distillers mix whiskey from multiple barrels to create a consistent flavor profile. It’s safe. It’s predictable. It can be excellent—especially in the modern era of bourbon—but it's rarely adventurous and often forgettable. Single-barrel bourbon, on the other hand, comes from—you guessed it—just one barrel. It’s untamed, unblended, unapologetically itself.

Each barrel of bourbon, much like each individual in this room, has its own unique characteristics. The wood, the location in the warehouse, even the subtle changes in temperature and humidity—all these factors create a one-of-a-kind flavor profile even for the same labels. This is bourbon in its purest form. Love it, hate it, take it, or leave it.

And you know what? People loved it. They loved the authenticity, the uniqueness, the sheer audacity of a whiskey that dared to be itself. They were closer to the unadulterated spirit than ever before. Single-barrel bourbon gave consumers something they hadn’t had in a long time with their whiskey: Trust. And they wanted more. Blanton’s Single Barrel Bourbon revived the bourbon industry and sparked a renaissance of craft and premium spirits that continues to this day. Hundreds of billions of dollars in value created, in part, by Elmer’s wild idea. That’s the power of authenticity.

But why should young professionals in the liberty movement care about some old guy’s whiskey experiment? Because this story isn’t really about bourbon. It’s about you, me, and the essence of persuasion in a world increasingly hostile to individual liberty.

Over 2,000 years ago, this Greek guy named Aristotle—some of you might’ve heard of him—was pondering the art of rhetoric, which he defined as understanding the available means of persuasion in any situation. He identified three essential elements of persuasion: logos (logic), pathos (emotion), and ethos (character).

Now, if I asked someone on the street, “What’s the most important factor in persuasion?” they’ll probably say emotion. We’ve all heard it: “People make decisions based on feelings, not facts.”

But what about us classical liberals? Surely, we’re immune to this. We’ve planted our flag firmly in the terra firma of logic. We pride ourselves on our rational arguments, our well-reasoned positions, our pristine white papers.

But what about that guy Aristotle? He wasn’t one to follow a crowd. He believed that ethos—your character, your credibility, your authenticity—is the most powerful tool of persuasion.

Here’s the kicker: He has been proven right again and again and again over centuries.

Single-barrel bourbon is the liquid embodiment of ethos at its finest—precisely because it’s not for everyone. It’s unapologetically itself, with all its quirks and complexities. This authenticity allows people to form a deeper, more genuine connection with it. Some might hate it, others are going to love it, but no one can accuse it of being fake. Every barrel has a chance of finding its mad, raving fans.

I call this Single-Barrel Ethos.

Now, why is this concept so crucial for liberty professionals in the global freedom movement? We’re living through an unprecedented trust crisis. Since measurements began, trust in institutions is at an all-time low. Trust in government, business, media, and art continues to decline. People desperately seek someone, anyone with authority they can trust. It’s no coincidence that we see the rise of influencer culture on social media. People want to hear authentic voices amidst a cacophony of corporate speak and political prattle.

In the fight for liberty, our go-to form of argument has always been logos. We think, “If we can just win one more debate, if we can just craft another perfect syllogism, then we’ll finally win the day!” But here’s the harsh reality: it doesn’t matter how logically sound your arguments are if people don’t trust you enough to listen in the first place.

Building trust must come first—before the argument, before the emotion. And we can only build trust by building ourselves into people worthy of trust. It’s not about crafting the perfect image or saying what people want to hear. It’s about embodying our principles so deeply that they shine through in everything we do.

Single-Barrel Ethos dares you to be genuinely, unapologetically you, allowing your flaws to make you relatable, your cringe to make you alluring, and your virtues to make you an example of liberty in our lifetime. Single-Barrel Ethos means crafting your character and your presence in the world with the same care and attention that a master distiller like Elmer T. Lee put into selecting a premium barrel worthy of Blanton’s brand.

No competitor, no marketer, no AI can replicate your unique experiences and quirks and personal journey with liberty. These are the traits that give you a chance of finding your mad, raving fans.

We’re living in an age where artificial intelligence can craft compelling arguments, where deep fakes can manipulate emotions, and where social media algorithms can create echo chambers of groupthink. In this environment, your Single-Barrel Ethos isn’t just a nice-to-have. It’s your superpower.

It’s what will make people seek out your ideas, value your opinion, and trust your judgment. It’s what will make you stand out in a debate, in your community, or in any arena where ideas are contested.

This brings me to a crucial point, the real heart of Single-Barrel Ethos:

Don’t try to win an argument until you’ve become someone worthy of winning an argument.

But keep in mind—and this is something Elmer T. Lee learned with Blanton’s—when you embrace your Single-Barrel Ethos, you will not appeal to everyone. And that’s more than OK. It’s necessary. When “everyone” is your audience, no one is. But those who do resonate with you, well, they will become your fierce advocates, your loyal supporters, your fellow champions of liberty-minded ideals. In a world desperate for authenticity, your remarkable character will resonate far more powerfully than any argument ever could.

Cultivate your ethos. Live your principles. Because when you do, you won’t just change minds. You’ll inspire. You won’t just participate in movements. You’ll propel them forward.

I challenge all of you to reflect on this difficult question every evening: Ask yourself, “What have I done today to live a life worthy of the liberty I’m fighting for?”

The future of liberty depends not just on our arguments, but on our character—our ethos, the ultimate persuader. Let’s make sure we’re worthy of the cause we champion.