The Rise and Fall of Modern American Conservatism: A Short History
by David Farber

–Reviewed by Adam Fleisher

David Farber argues that modern American conservatism is a “disciplinary order generated by hostility to market restraints and fueled by religious faith, devotion to social order, and an individualized conception of political liberty.”

The movement’s high point, by Farber’s count, was the election of Ronald Reagan. And then it came crashing down, felled by a “zealous faith in the free market system” during the presidency of George W. Bush. Farber, a professor of history at Temple University, sketches the lives of six leading American conservatives to support his characterization of conservatism, but his thesis is not quite sustainable.

Farber starts with Robert Taft, who began articulating some of the tenets of contemporary conservatism in response to the New Deal. Taft did not begrudge Roosevelt’s goal of creating a better life for American workers. But he believed that the best way to do so was for individuals to make their own decisions, not for the state to attempt to impose order on the economy.  Farber argues that Taft’s sentiment is the epitome of conservatives’ “absolutist” faith in the free market.

This is where the difficulty with Rise and Fall surfaces. Farber’s characterization of conservatives as market fundamentalists is refuted by the rest of his analysis – of conservatives as adherents to traditional values, religion, and social order. Conservatives argue that a functioning society requires more than just a free market, which creates alongside wealth and opportunity a great deal of social upheaval. With this view of society has come a great debate amongst conservatives about just how much – and by whom – the market should be tempered. The distinction between conservatives and liberals isn’t simply about whether or not to discipline the market, but rather about how to achieve the discipline it needs.

As Farber in fact notes, the economic freedom espoused by William Buckley’s National Review was grounded in “deeper values and revealed truths,” in contrast to the relativism and secularism of the left. The real absolutist faith, in that instance, was the sort of liberalism that insisted freedom does not require virtue. Barry Goldwater made similar critiques in The Conscience of a Conservative, arguing that man is not just an economic animal, but a “spiritual creature with spiritual needs and spiritual desires.” Phyllis Schlafly thought women uniquely capable of bringing virtue to American society since they had not been corrupted by the self-interested pursuit of personal power and financial gain.

Moving to Reagan, Farber argues that conservatism became politically successful “by claiming moral superiority, critiquing economic egalitarianism, relishing bellicosity, and embracing cultural nationalism.” That claim, however, loses some of its explanatory power when Farber rightly discusses Bill Clinton’s sympathy to conservative ideas – an embrace that helped Clinton enjoy what now looks like the most successful presidency for conservatism other than Reagan’s. Clinton famously declared the era of big government over, and regularly said things like “family is the foundation of American life,” assimilating conservative critiques of liberalism into his own agenda. And he ran budget surpluses without economy-killing levels of taxation, not to mention signing the legislation ending welfare as we know it.

Rise and Fall’s emphasis on the conservative sympathies of Clinton sets up the argument that when George W. Bush ran for president, conservatism was king, and so Bush could run as an “avowed conservative,” in Farber’s words.  But Bush didn’t run as an avowed conservative. He ran as a “compassionate conservative” in 2000, which for the left was an oxymoron and for the right a redundancy. And in his successful reelection campaign, Bush didn’t tack right so much as run on staying the course in Iraq and in contrast to Kerry’s “flip-flopping.”

In any case, for the conservative movement, inextricably linked to the president, compassionate conservativism was certainly a political disaster. Bush may have cut taxes, but he also presided over a massive expansion of the federal government, both in terms of spending and its involvement in people’s lives. Where Reagan had once said that the most terrifying words in the English language are, “I’m from the government and I’m here to help,” Bush declared “We have a responsibility that when somebody hurts, government has got to move.”

“The Fall” part of Farber’s title hinges on conservatism being about an absolute faith in the market and Bush being an absolute conservative. Neither of these is quite right. But there is one perhaps very interesting harbinger of the future of conservatism and the Republican Party looming in Rise and Fall. In discussing Reagan’s rise to the presidency, Farber notes that Jimmy Carter had won by running as an outsider, promising to bring change to a corrupted Washington. Alas, Farber writes, with perhaps a hint of understatement, Carter “was unable to deliver on those hopes,” and the economic troubles he inherited merely worsened. By 1980, Americans were willing to listen when Reagan offered lower taxes, less regulation, and a rebuilding of military might to challenge Soviet expansionism. Farber calls these prescriptions “conservative answers to some of America’s major problems.” And that seems to be what Rise and Fall really shows: the fortunes of conservatism, like any political movement in a democratic society, depend on articulating solutions to pressing problems, and getting results.

Excerpt: “William Buckley and his merry band of conservative intellectuals despised this materialist, even Marxist, formulation in which man was reduced to economic creature and government to a necessary Big Brother tasked narrowly with expert management of the nation’s economy.  They believed in the politics of the moral crusade and religious affirmation; a virtuous citizenry should demand public policies that affirmed Americans’ core beliefs and defended against apostasy of all kinds. Goldwater, at a gut level, felt much the same and caught the National Review crowd’s attention with his blunt defense of spirituality and morality in politics.”

Further Reading: Dead Right by David Frum and Dead Right by George H. Nash

*Photo of Ronald Reagan on television, at the 1976 Republican National Convention, courtesy Dana Graves.