Beyond the Label: A Conversation with Kyle Austin

Honest Conversations. Real Montana.

One of the things I’ve learned after traveling thousands of miles across Montana is that people are almost never as simple as their political label.

We have a habit these days of introducing one another by party before we ever introduce ourselves by name. Democrat. Republican. Libertarian. Progressive. Conservative. As if those labels can somehow tell the whole story of a person’s life. They don’t tell you where someone grew up, who taught them to work, what they’ve struggled through, what they’ve built with their own hands, or why they believe what they believe. Before we’ve ever shared a cup of coffee, we’ve already decided whether someone is worth listening to.

That’s exactly why Last Best Voice exists.

The goal has never been to interview people I agree with on every issue. Frankly, that would get pretty boring. The goal is to understand the people who make up this remarkable state and to model the kind of conversations I wish we saw more often in public life. Curiosity isn’t compromise. Listening isn’t surrender. If we want to understand Montana, we have to understand Montanans.

That’s what brought me to a conversation with Kyle Austin.

Most people know Kyle as the Libertarian candidate for the United States Senate. That’s certainly part of who he is. But before politics enters the conversation, he’s a fourth-generation Montanan, a farmer, a pharmacist, a small business owner, and someone whose life has been shaped by rural communities. We don’t agree on everything, and I don’t think either of us expected we would. What we did share was a willingness to sit down, ask honest questions, and see where the conversation led.

It turns out, that’s where the interesting part begins.

Coming Home

One of the first things I noticed was how naturally Kyle’s story circled back to agriculture.

Like so many Montana kids, he grew up with one foot in the classroom and the other in the field. He told me he originally dreamed of becoming a military pilot, but pharmacy offered him a way to pursue a profession while remaining connected to the life he loved. After graduating, he earned his pilot’s license, returned home, practiced pharmacy, and eventually took over his grandfather’s farm.

“I went to pharmacy school, got my pilot’s license after graduation, returned to Havre, became a pharmacist, and took over my grandfather’s farm.”

There’s something distinctly Montanan about that journey. We leave just long enough to learn something new, then many of us find ourselves coming back to put those lessons to work where they matter most. Whether you’re farming wheat on the Hi-Line or raising cattle along the Powder River, there’s a pull that keeps bringing people home.

Building Something Different

As our conversation moved into healthcare, Kyle explained why he eventually walked away from corporate pharmacy.

His frustration wasn’t simply with the size of the companies. It was with the feeling that decisions affecting Montana communities were increasingly being made somewhere else, by people who didn’t understand the realities of practicing medicine in rural America.

“I realized the corporations were really not in the best interest of Montanans.”

Rather than spending years complaining about the system, he chose to build something different. He opened his own independent pharmacy and began approaching healthcare the way he believed it ought to function.

That mindset resonated with me because it reflects something I’ve seen repeatedly while traveling this state. Montanans have a habit of trying to solve problems before they start arguing about them.

Kyle smiled when he compared building a business to running a ranch.

“It’s kind of like a ranch. Your ranch is only going to grow as big as the amount of work you put into it.”

Any rancher reading that sentence already understands exactly what he means. There aren’t many shortcuts on the land. You get back what you’re willing to invest.

The Questions Worth Asking

One of the most compelling parts of our conversation centered on rural healthcare.

Regardless of political affiliation, nearly everyone I meet across Montana is worried about what happens as our population ages and healthcare providers become harder to find. Kyle sees that challenge every day through his work as a pharmacist, and he doesn’t think we’re prepared for what’s coming.

“Over the next ten years there will be a healthcare crisis.”

He spoke about shrinking provider networks, the growing demand for care, and the reality that many communities are already struggling to recruit doctors, pharmacists, and nurses.

Then he asked a question that hung in the air for a moment.

“Who’s going to take care of this aging population?”

Whether you ultimately agree with every proposal Kyle offers isn’t really the point. The question itself deserves our attention. Conversations like this remind me that some of Montana’s biggest challenges don’t belong to one political party. They belong to all of us.

The Lost Art of Conversation

Perhaps my favorite part of our interview had very little to do with healthcare or politics.

It had everything to do with conversation.

Kyle described inviting Democrats onto his podcast and hearing something that surprised him. They appreciated simply having a place where disagreement didn’t immediately become hostility.

“We may not see eye to eye, but we can still have the conversation.”

I found myself smiling because that’s the heartbeat of Last Best Voice.

Somewhere along the way, we started believing that talking with someone meant agreeing with them. It doesn’t. Conversation isn’t endorsement. It’s how we learn. It’s how we sharpen our own thinking. It’s how democracy is supposed to function.

Kyle put it simply.

“People are afraid of conversation and debate these days.”

Then he added something that feels almost old-fashioned in today’s political climate.

“Hopefully the better argument prevails.”

Not the louder argument.

Not the argument backed by the most money.

Not the one that generates the most outrage online.

The better argument.

Imagine if we expected that from ourselves again.

The Things That Unite Us

As happens in almost every conversation I have these days, we eventually found ourselves talking about water.

Whether I’m sitting with ranchers in Carter County, tribal leaders in Browning, environmental advocates in Missoula, or farmers on the Hi-Line, water always enters the discussion sooner or later. It’s one of those issues that refuses to recognize political boundaries.

Kyle’s perspective was straightforward.

“We have to protect the water.”

He spoke about soil health, water retention, farming practices, and long-term stewardship. Listening to him, I was reminded once again that Montana has a remarkable ability to unite around practical realities. Grass doesn’t care who you voted for. Neither does a dry creek bed.

Those conversations are often where common ground begins.

Representing Montana

Toward the end of our conversation, I asked Kyle about representation. His answer was one of the simplest things he said all afternoon.

“I’m just Austin for United States Senate who’s going to represent all Montanans.”

Whether voters choose him is for them to decide.

What interested me wasn’t the campaign line. It was the aspiration behind it.

Every elected official should wake up believing they represent all Montanans. Not just Republicans. Not just Democrats. Not just Libertarians. All of us.

The rancher outside Plentywood.

The teacher in Missoula.

The pharmacist in Billings.

The entrepreneur in Bozeman.

The tribal elder in Browning.

The retiree in Miles City.

Democracy works best when nobody gets written off.

Why This Matters

Some people will read this conversation hoping I’ve endorsed Kyle Austin. Others will wonder why I’d spend time interviewing someone whose politics don’t perfectly match my own.

They’re asking the wrong question.

The purpose of Last Best Voice has never been to tell you who to vote for.

The purpose is to remind us that every person carries a story worth hearing.

Kyle Austin and I don’t agree on everything. I suspect neither of us ever expected we would. But after spending time together, I understand more clearly the experiences that shaped his worldview, the values that guide his decisions, and the hopes he has for Montana.

That’s valuable.

Not because agreement is the goal, but because understanding is.

The more miles I put on this old pickup, the more convinced I become that ordinary Montanans are far more interested in solving problems than performing politics. They care about water, healthcare, agriculture, housing, schools, and whether their kids will have a reason to stay in this state they love. Those concerns don’t belong to one party. They belong to Montana.

The future of our state won’t be built by people who agree on everything. It will be built by neighbors willing to sit down, tell the truth as they see it, ask better questions, and leave the conversation understanding one another a little more than when they arrived.

To me, that’s what Last Best Voice has always been about.

Honest conversations.

Real Montana.