A Tribute to Fred L. Smith

The liberty movement has lost one of its greatest champions with the recent passing of Fred L. Smith, founder of the Competitive Enterprise Institute. Few people played a more important role in spreading the gospel of free minds and free markets over the past four decades.

Fred had a larger-than-life personality and an unparalleled presence. His encyclopedic knowledge was legendary. He was a walking, talking search engine. You could approach Fred and throw out a couple of random names, books, or topics and soon your brain would be filled with more knowledge that you could possibly process. Every time you interacted with Fred Smith, you went away a little bit smarter.

More importantly, I went away from all my interactions with Fred inspired to act. He had a way of rallying the troops to action that was unmatched by any other think tank leader. He was a tremendously engaging and entertaining fellow to be around. His hearty laugh and joyous delivery were remarkable to behold and impossible to emulate.

Fred took time to mentor people and develop talent. He once introduced me to one of the greatest inspirations in my life—political scientist Aaron Wildavsky. He invited me to have lunch with the two of them back in the early 1990s when I was just getting started in the business. I was only 22 or 23 at the time and wasn’t even working for Fred, but he took the time to mentor me and introduce me to my hero. My book Permissionless Innovation is basically an ode to the vision Wildavsky set forth in his book Searching for Safety and an attempt to apply his framework more broadly in the field of information technology policy. None of this would have happened without Fred Smith inspiring me to broaden my horizons and find inspiration in the work of others.

Fred would talk to absolutely anybody about liberty and markets. When I lived in downtown Washington, D.C., I’d frequently encounter Fred and his wife, Fran, on the street late at night, having just come from a salon dinner or event (or even just leaving work very late). He and I shared a love of cigars and would sometimes stand outside smoking and talking about where he’d been proselytizing on behalf of freedom lately. He’d take a stand for capitalism in even the least hospitable settings, and he was willing to challenge people when no one else was comfortable doing so.

A funny story about that: Back in 1997, I invited Fred to come to a private lunch I hosted for Bill Gates at the Heritage Foundation. Still running Microsoft at the time, Gates was concerned about the growing antitrust crusade against his company—and I was doing a lot of writing on the government’s case against the firm. I worked with someone at Microsoft’s then-tiny D.C. office to put together a small event where Gates could meet key conservative and libertarian thought leaders in town. The lunch included my boss, Heritage founder Edwin Feulner, and the presidents or key senior fellows from a couple of other think tanks.  

Gates was gracious with his time and laid out his case in detail. But as he wrapped up his opening remarks to the group, Gates proclaimed, “I have always been a big fan of capitalism,” at which Fred and Cato Institute founder Ed Crane literally laughed out loud. Gates was taken aback by their response, but Fred seized the moment to list all the misguided things Gates had said and done over the previous decade that undercut his assertion. He even named some of the anti-capitalistic causes Gates had supported financially. Gates was humbled by the indictment, responding with “You make some fair points, Fred,” before continuing to beg for help in fighting the growing antitrust witch hunt against Microsoft. I remember exactly what Fred said next: “Of course we’ll stand with you, because our principles never waver.” That was Fred Smith—standing strong in defense of capitalism and freedom, reminding one of the world’s richest men that the fight wasn’t just about the plight of one company—it was about freedom for everyone.

When I’d see Fred at major public events throughout the years, he’d often play the same role, rising to ask a question or raise an objection to make a stand for freedom when no one else would. Other times he would call people to tell them how to better communicate their ideas or approach them at events to explain how their recent work or messaging could have been better structured or communicated to advance our cause. He was like a roving ombudsman for the entire liberty movement.

About a decade ago, Fred visited me and a group of free-market scholars from George Mason University working on the issue of crony capitalism—a popular topic from about 2012 to 2016. He didn’t like the particular approach some of us had adopted in our writing or speaking on the issue, and he let us know it, detailing the subtle ways in which our arguments or rhetorical approaches were unwise before laying out a better approach. I got feisty with him just to have a bit of fun, and he gave me the same kind of point-by-point intellectual beat-down Bill Gates had experienced 20 years before. When he was done, I smiled and admitted to my colleagues that Fred was right (as usual) and that we should take our cues from him in terms of how we could do things better.

The biggest thing Fred Smith taught me was how important it is to make time for young people looking to get involved in the liberty movement: Inspire them. Offer them opportunities. Empower them with knowledge. Help them find their path.

In this way, Fred inspired and trained generations of idea warriors. His spirit lives on in their work and advocacy.

Thank you, Fred Smith, for everything you did to inspire me, the freedom movement, and the world.