The author attempts to make the case for Libertarian Anarchy and the illegitimacy of the state. First, a note on the title: why “Libertarian Anarchy” and not “Capitalist Anarchy”? The author argues that the term Capitalism has been polluted by association with state-backed and cronyist economic systems. In his view, true economic capitalism (based on voluntary exchange and property rights) doesn't exist today as state interference is universal. Since most people now associate “capitalism” with privilege and corporate welfare, the author chooses to step away from the label, not because he disagrees with its philosophy, but to distance himself from its negative baggage. So while he does agree with the principles of anarcho-capitalism, he prefers to label it libertarian anarchy.
The book is not a practical guide for building stateless societies, instead it’s a philosophical defense of them. It explores the nature and origins of the state, of taxation and war, and most importantly, a critique of the narratives used to justify the state’s legitimacy particularly representation and the social contract. The author, in my view, convincingly dismantles both.
Rather than focusing on questions like “who would build the roads?”, the author gives a theoretical sketch of how law and order could function in a libertarian anarchist society. He shows that law doesn’t require the state, and that it can emerge spontaneously and organically just like language or customs. These laws arise from customary practices, dispute resolution, and social norms, not centralized power.
One of the strongest threads in the book is the emphasis on the non-aggression principle, the idea that people are free to do what they want, so long as they don’t initiate force or violate the person or property of others. This is the moral core of the libertarian anarchist society he envisions. Importantly, “anarchy” here doesn't mean chaos or lawlessness it simply means the absence of a coercive state.
The author argues that even in stateless societies, rules, order, and legal principles arise. Different groups will develop their own norms, but across history and geography, societies tend to converge on basic prohibitions such as murder and theft. Even if each society defines “outsiders” and “insiders” differently, they all tend to ban murder of their own and theft from their own, and all have some concept of property.
What the author is really advocating is a system where law is grounded in justice, not morality. That means laws should set limits(don’t steal, don’t kill) not prescribe how people ought to live. Morality is expansive and often invasive; justice, in contrast, sets minimal boundaries for coexistence and cooperation. A truly free society should be built on justice-based rules, not morally driven laws that try to force virtue.
In this system, three major features stand out:
1. Only actions that harm others (through force or fraud) are prohibited.
2. Law grows organically, from people themselves, not from central authorities.
3. Coercion is unnecessary—even dispute resolution happens through voluntary means, like restitution, community judgment, or social exclusion, not state force.
I found some parts of the book beautifully written, especially the author’s take on property as mutual recognition of a pre-existing claim to ownership, in which a person uses a specific thing in a specific way that excludes others from its use, so ownership begins as latent and is actualized through reciprocal recognition. But in other parts, I found the writing dense and overly technical. the language used sometimes grew autocratic in it's technicality, something that might have sacrificed clarity and accessibility. For this reason, I wouldn’t recommend the book to newcomers for It gets quite technical.
More importantly, I remain personally unconvinced. One issue that sticks with me is the real-world viability of libertarian anarchism. In today’s world, voluntary communes or stateless communities would likely be invaded or crushed by existing state powers. For it to work, you’d need to press some magical button that instantly erases all states—and even then, there’s nothing stopping people from recreating the state out of fear, nostalgia, or nationalism. You’d not only need to remove the state, but erase all memory of the state in a miraculous feat of collective amnesia, a task which I find too fabulous to be considered realistic.
Even the historical examples the author uses (like Somalia, medieval Ireland, and others) come with major problems. While they illustrate some interesting aspects of customary law, they also lacked protections for things like women’s rights or universal justice. The author acknowledges this, and urges us to focus on the principles, not the flaws, but the flaws are real and can’t be brushed aside completely.
Final thoughts:
This is a challenging and provocative book. It makes strong philosophical arguments for a stateless society based on non-aggression, voluntary association, and spontaneous legal order. But it’s not light reading. At times, it’s brilliant. At others, it’s needlessly convoluted. And while I respect the logic of the argument, I remain skeptical about whether libertarian anarchism can ever function in practice, especially in a world dominated by aggressive states.
Rating: 2.5 out of 5