Two debates cohosted by National Review Institute explore conservatism and its future.
A merican conservatism, like America itself, is a creature of contradiction. Our nation was founded by an act of radicalism; a bloody revolution that produced a new kind of republic where the people would govern themselves. But its architects sought to restore inherited rights and freedoms that had been usurped by tyranny. They understood that human nature is immutable, and wished to preserve the centuries of accumulated wisdom that had guided mankind from barbarism to the Enlightenment. Ultimately, the American Founding established an open society, guided by principles of individual liberty and limited government. The conservative movement exists to uphold this political tradition and celebrate the revolution that spawned it.
This fascinating paradox is what makes American conservatism such a uniquely enjoyable enterprise. By its very nature, the right welcomes inconsistency and encourages internecine disagreement. It’s animated by a constant churn of debate between the likes of libertarians and traditionalists, believers and atheists, optimists and curmudgeons, hawks and isolationists, or economists of the Chicago and Austrian schools. This kind of internal dialogue encourages all parties involved to sharpen their beliefs and allows broad political coalitions to form.
Fittingly, no member of the conservative movement found greater enjoyment in contradiction than its leader. William F. Buckley Jr. has been branded conservatism’s “patron saint.” Buckley was a devout Catholicl his faith greatly informed his social outlook. He believed in a transcendent moral order; fervently rejected communism, atheism, anarchism, and Objectivism; supported capital punishment; opposed gay marriage, abortion, and assisted suicide; and championed high culture.
Yet on many of America’s most exigent political questions, Buckley offered libertarian answers. As a student at Yale, he described himself as an “individualist”; he stood against collectivism, Keynesianism, and other statist encroachments on private life. Later, he supported drug legalization, criticized the Iraq War, and was skeptical of the Bush administration’s democratization agenda. One of his final essay collections, Happy Days Were Here Again (2008), bore the subtitle, Reflections of a Libertarian Journalist. Throughout his life, he was deeply opposed to the growth of government and vigorously supportive of free market capitalism. To Buckley, economic and political freedom were inextricable.
Given these contradictions, do libertarians or conservatives have greater claim to Buckley’s legacy? On September 16 in Cambridge, Mass., National Review Institute and the Intercollegiate Studies Institute convened a debate to answer this question. ISI’s Daniel McCarthy argued for the libertarian position. NR’s own Michael Brendan Dougherty took the conservative side, while Charles C. W. Cooke served as moderator. The full debate, now available on YouTube, makes for fascinating viewing. You can watch it here:
Steps away from the grounds of Harvard University — which Buckley famously declared would be a less trustworthy governing body than the names in the Boston telephone directory — McCarthy and Dougherty evaluated Buckley’s competing political instincts. Dougherty argued that Buckley stood for greater things than political principles. Only someone inescapably conservative could be so committed to the importance of preserving high art, challenging received wisdom, upholding the Catholic faith, and defending the Western tradition. McCarthy, meanwhile, claimed that Buckley’s conflicting political attitudes can easily be reconciled under the banner of Christian libertarianism. Despite his strong religious convictions, Buckley did not believe that others should be coerced into belief. He advocated liberty buttressed by law and responsibility, and his most enduring accomplishment was reorienting the American right around libertarian economics.
It’s remarkable that Buckley’s work inspires claims from libertarians and conservatives alike. But the fact that both sides can so convincingly count him as their own suggests that the truth lies somewhere in between. Buckley believed that freedom and virtue require one another. He was at once a libertarian and a conservative, and his synthesis of ideas from both schools of thought allowed him to persuade a much larger audience. It was this fusionism that came to define not only National Review’s editorial standpoint, but the entire Republican Party. When Ronald Reagan became president, fusionism became central to American government itself.
Still, an intriguing question remains: If Buckley were alive and ascendant today, where would he stand politically? Would fusionism still hold the same appeal? When Cooke raised this question toward the end of the debate, McCarthy referenced an interview Buckley gave in 2001 to the literary magazine Lingua Franca.
“The trouble with the emphasis in conservatism on the market is that it becomes rather boring,” Buckley said. “You hear it once, you master the idea. The notion of devoting your life to it is horrifying if only because it’s so repetitious. It’s like sex.” Later, when the interviewer asked Buckley what his political orientation would be if he were a young man in 2000, he replied, “I’d be a socialist.” Then, after a pause, “I’d even say a communist.”
In his younger years, Buckley had a distinctly provocative streak. God and Man at Yale (1951) was an assault on his alma mater that went after its academics and administrators by name. In McCarthy and His Enemies (1954), Buckley mounted a pugilistic defense of Senator Joseph McCarthy and his anti-communist crusade. Given those rebellious impulses, perhaps a young Buckley today would have time for the fiery rhetoric and aggressive politics of Donald Trump and MAGA.
Of course, it’s impossible to know. But today’s Buckleyite conservatives, then, must ensure that fusionism remains philosophically exciting if it is to continue inspiring young people. They must engage with cultural battles and embrace all forms of media to communicate their message, as Buckley did in his own time. Most important, they must not succumb to despair. Buckley’s deep erudition gave him the ideological framework for a political movement, but his infectious charm and enthusiasm allowed him to build it. He spoke the truth boldly and made it appealing with his irreverent sense of humor. Conservatives must follow this example to preserve what he created.
Conservatism’s need for happy warriors was explored at length in a separate event the day after the McCarthy–Dougherty debate. On September 17 in Philadelphia, National Review Institute and the Collegium Institute hosted a panel discussion of how Buckley’s legacy should inform the future of religious conservatism. NR’s Kathryn Jean Lopez moderated a conversation between Princeton’s Robert P. George and the University of Pennsylvania’s John Dilulio.
George argued that without civil discourse and civic friendship, our republic cannot survive. His words seemed especially powerful in the aftermath of Charlie Kirk’s barbaric assassination. He observed that in a divided time, conservatives should seek fruitful disagreement and resist the use of force in politics. Buckley, who always strove to engage openly with those he disagreed with, understood this better than anyone.
Buckley lived to debate. He sparred with opponents of every political stripe in magazines, radio and television programs, and public forums across the nation. On Firing Line, his public affairs talk show, he accepted all challengers with levity. Eloquence and wit were his weapons of persuasion, and they gracefully pierced the dreary fabric of progressive orthodoxy. Before an audience, Buckley invariably spoke with a playful spark in his eye and a warm smile on his face, intent on converting his opponents to the conservative cause rather than humiliating them for their lack of knowledge or preparation. Buckley made conservatism fun again, and his unique brio enabled the movement to grow into America’s most consequential political force.
In our moment of profound political tension, we must recall what Buckley stood for. His erudition, charisma, and bonhomie should inform our efforts to win the American soul, and so should his personal commitment to virtue. Near the end of that evening in Philadelphia, George affirmed that true fulfillment does not lie in the fleeting pleasures of fame or wealth. Buckley may have enjoyed these things, but in his heart, he was driven by family, friendship, faith, beauty, and knowledge — goods that are worthwhile in and of themselves. To truly honor his legacy, we must remain dedicated to these permanent things.