American Republicans & Conservatives Honor Roll

 

Edmund Burke (1729-1797): the father of conservatism in the post-French Revolution world

I've publicly admitted on various occasions that I was a teenage Republican, although I must sheepishly admit that this condition persisted well past my teen years. (However, I've never voted for the Republican nominee for president; i.e., no Nixon or later nominees). But this bout of Republicanism was something that I was born into; my parents were committed, active members of the Republican Party. By the time I was 16 years old, I'd attended two Republican national conventions (San Francisco and Miami) and had met numerous Republican officials and candidates and attended hours of meetings. I also hasten to add for the benefit of any younger readers, that the present-day manifestation of the Republican Party is a far cry from the party of my parents and my youth. The last Republican nominee for public office that I can remember voting for was Rep. Jim Leach (R-IA), which continued even after I affiliated myself with the Democratic Party back in the early 1980s.  Leach was a "moderate" Republican and received a lot of crossover votes until 2006 when the Democrats finally nominated a well-qualified candidate against him (Dave Loebsack), and it was clear that Leach wasn't appreciated by his own party in Congress. I thought of my vote for Loebsak as an act of mercy toward Leech as well as a vote in favor of Loebsack. (N.B. Leach later endorsed Obama for president against McCain, and he penned an editorial in 2021 in favor of the impeachment of Trump based on Trump's role in the attack on the Capital.)  And as mentioned, I've been registered as a Democrat since the early 1980s. That way I can honestly and accurately say that "I'm not a member of any organized political party--I'm a Democrat" (hat-tip to Will Rogers for coining that ditty). 

But while I was raised in the Republican Party, I was born with a cautious, conservative temperament. With age, however, I received a liberal (arts) education; I've lived through a wide-ranging set of experiences that have fostered a pragmatic frame of mind toward action; and I've cultivated a penchant for radical (as in "going to the root of things") perspective. But for all these additions, I am--at least in some ways--still a conservative at heart. 

So what does it mean to be a "conservative" at heart? From my perspective, it implies several things. It means preserving (conserving) what one has that is worth preserving. At the present moment, that would certainly entail democracy and the rule of law. This is not to suggest that either our democracy or our legal system are without flaws. Hardly. Indeed, as to democracy, I'm with Churchill: it's the worst form of political rule except for all the others that have been tried from time to time. And our legal system is too much governed by the Wizard of Id's golden rule: "them's that's got the gold make the rules," among other foibles. But, to continue my string of cliches and well-traveled quotes, I don't want to throw the baby out with the bathwater. So, having once been the owner of an old house, I'm all in favor of making repairs to maintain the (mostly) solid structure that we've come to know and value. So with our form of government; better imperfect democracy than authoritarianism and despotism. So, too, with the rule of law; our laws and judicial system are imperfect but far better than most and if laws and judicial system are trashed, we will suffer very ugly consequences. And, I might add, in what is admittedly a bit of a balancing act, I exercise my cautious, conservative impulses in concert with my liberal, pragmatic, and radical dispositions. Thus, of late I've taken to describing myself as a "Burkean radical" or, conversely, a "radical Burkean." An oxymoron? Perhaps, but I like to think of such a designation as a fruitful paradox; a form of "both/and" and not "either/or." Do I contradict myself? Very well, I contradict myself. I contain multitudes (hat-tip to the poet of American democracy, Walt Whitman). 

Thus, my conservative self wants slow, careful change. No storming the barricades. Instead, going to the meetings: talk, persuade, bargain, wheedle, and cajole to realize pragmatic results that benefit the society as a whole and that recognize the interests of all of those legitimately at the table. And yet--we need radical change. Or, rather, radical change is coming, it's only a matter of direction. Climate change and other instances of our "polycrisis" (hat-tip to Adam Tooze for this term) will require many and basic radical changes that will go to the root of our culture. The question won't be whether radical changes occur, but whether we will deliberately choose the changes we should desire (my conservative option) or whether radical changes will be foisted upon us by our failure to act soon enough to avoid the most radical and most disturbing changes. Nature, in some ways, is my model: it conserves life and it also allows--indeed, sometimes requires--radical changes in life. I want to conserve the Nature and the (best of ) the culture and society that we still have and not suffer a wholesale transformation into something utterly alien. 

So how does one make my honor roll of conservatives and Republicans? Simple: one speaks out for democracy and the rule of law; one speaks out in favor of dialectical and not eristic decision-making; in favor of speech and not force. One speaks out against Trump and Trumpism (the most un-conservative force ever to have held the presidency and Congress). One does not endorse Orban (Hungary) (as Trump just did), Boloansaro (Brazil), Duterte (Philippines), Erdogan (Turkey), or Putin (Russia), and other such faux-democrats, demagogues, and despots. “A Conservative is a fellow who is standing athwart history yelling 'Stop!” said the father of post-WWII American conservatism, William F. Buckley. But in our time the tides of history have largely shifted away from liberalism toward illiberalism; away from deliberation and toward force; and away from democracy and toward authoritarianism. The inherent flaw in conservatism is that it tends to leave the powerful in power; it defaults too easily to the status quo. But the strength of conservatism is that it puts principles before power; it seeks to protect the bedrock upon which societies can flourish. 

As we approach the first anniversary of the January 6 insurrection, and now one year past the Trump presidency, these individuals, all of whom (I believe) either self-identify as "conservative" or "Republican" (or both), have passed the test. Note that precious, precious few are elected officials (sad indeed). Note that I undoubtedly have some serious policy disagreements with them, but all have spoken out against the corruptions (pecuniary, personal, and institutional) of Trump and his ilk, which includes most current Republican elected officials. That these individuals chose democracy and the rule of law over personal gain and personal friendships speaks loudly indeed. I commend them to you. 

1. David Brooks, NYT & The Atlantic.
2. David Frum, The Atlantic & former W. Bush speechwriter. 
3. Anne Applebaum, The Atlantic & former WaPo columnist & historian of  the USSR & Eastern Europe
4. Max Boot, WaPo columnist, and historian
5. Bill Kristol, formerly of The Weekly Standard, The Bulwark founder & editor, and former chief-of-staff to Vice-President Quayle
6. Tom Nichols, a contributor to The Atlantic & former Naval War College prof
7. Andrew Sullivan, podcaster, blogger, & author
8. Charlie Sykes, podcaster and The Bulwark co-founder & contributor
9. George Conway, lawyer, and Republican official, & a Lincoln Project co-founder
10. Steve Schmidt, McCain campaign strategist & Republican political operative
11. Robert Kagan, foreign policy expert
12. Rick Wilson, former Republican political strategist & Lincoln Project co-founder
13. John Weaver, political strategist for McCain campaigns & Lincoln Project co-founder
14. Mona Charen, writer, podcaster, former Reagan administration official, and The Bulwark policy editor
15. Ross Douthat, NYT columnist 
16. David French, commentator, formerly with National Review, & now with The Dispatch
17. Jennifer Rubin, WaPo columnist
18. George Will, WaPo columnist
19. Christine Todd Whitman, former Republican gov NJ & former EPA director in W. Bush administration
20. Evan McMullin, former CIA operative, former House Republican caucus policy director, & now an independent candidate for the U.S. Senate in Utah
21. Brett Stephens, NYT columnist
22. Rep. Liz Cheney, R-WY and vice-chair the House Select Committee on the January 6 Attack
23. Rep. Adam Kinzinger, R-IL was one of ten Republicans to vote in favor of Trump's second impeachment

Also, those associated with The Bulwark and The Lincoln Project whom I haven't mentioned above. 

I invite any nominations to the list or any criticisms of any selection. 

As we go into 2022 and toward 2024, crucial years for the future of democracy and the rule of law in the U.S., we need these folks and a whole lot more like them. 2020 was a success overall, but a large, strong, and perhaps growing cancer continues to infect the American polity, and we need courageous and patriotic Americans to do their part to preserve, protect, and defend our Constitution and the democratic and legal principles that have grown from it. We should not want the failure of the American experiment to fall upon our heads. 

N.B. The list is based on my random recall of whom I recognized and not necessarily in order of any particular merit.

Dark Star Rising: Magick & Power in the Age of Trump by Gary Lachman

No collusion here, but revealing comparisons abound

Having become a fan of Gary Lachman’s work a few years ago, I’ve known that he’s had Dark Star Rising: Magick and Power in the Age of Trump in the works for some time. The time between his announcement of the project and his report that he’d sent the manuscript to the publisher was some months ago, so it’s been a long wait. As time passed my anticipation grew, and upon receiving the book I had to wonder whether the reality would match the level of my anticipation. The answer, I’m happy to report, is a resounding “Yes!”

I’d learned that Lachman would be exploring the complex of ideas that surround Putin’s regime in Russia, a daunting task given Russia’s cultural heritage that’s as tangled and enigmatic as a great Russian novel. Lachman delivers on this end of the story, but to my delight, he also shines his light upon the American side of this time of political turmoil. His consideration of American-as-apple-pie New Thought and its relation to Trump provides a valuable contribution to our understanding. How does one start with a train of thought that can claim greats like Ralph Waldo Emerson and William James—two of the most significant and encouraging of American thinkers—and arrive at Donald Trump?

Also, Lachman provides readers with a new lens through which we can better perceive the Trump phenomena. I’d initially perceived Trump as a clown in the mold of Silviu Berlusconi (Italy’s former PM)—a wealthy philanderer out to massage his own ego and line his pockets while his boorish behavior and grandiose promises distract voters long enough to pick their pockets (which seems all too acceptable in Italy). Later, I came to see Trump as a full-scale demagogue, precisely the type of candidate that political thinkers from Plato to the American Founders (Hamilton and Madison in particular) warned us about and against whom the Founders designed the Constitution. (This blog post addresses both of the first two of my Trump images.)Later, in part as a reaction to Scott Adams’s “Trump is a master persuader and can do no wrong” refrain (my initial response that I now find inadequate). I came to see Trump as a master salesman, a huckster in the classic American mold of hucksters. Only he didn’t sell land in Florida or shares in the Brooklyn Bridge; instead, he sold worthless educational certificates from Trump University and stiffed contractors and investors. A friend of mine captured Trump’s essence by describing him as “a man of low cunning.” More recently, and to use a more contemporary vocabulary, both Max Boot and Tim Egan (and undoubtedly others) have described Trump as a grifter. (Slate has an interesting piece that distinguishes a “grifter” from a “grafter,” but we needn’t quibble.) But while all of these characterizations hold validity, they’re not completely satisfying. While money is a VERY BIG THING for Trump (as it is, less ostentatiously, for Putin, who’s now probably richer than Trump), money alone doesn’t provide a satisfactory explanation for the Trump phenomena. Something more, something deeper is at play, and here’s where Lachman has provided us with a more revealing lens. Drawing on the writings of Colin Wilson that deal with “rogue messiahs” (gurus) and “Right Men” (those who cannot admit errors or flaws), Lachman establishes a strong connection between “gurus” and “demagogues.” When reflecting on the traits of gurus gone bad--most prove human, all too human--and demagogues like Trump or Putin, one discovers very similar traits.  Lachman follows this trail of traits to establish—for me at least—that Trump is not just not a normal politician (compromise, give-and-take, follows established norms), but a guru-demagogue in about every conceivable way. He's intolerant of criticism, lacks friends, prefers mass audiences of adulating fans, holds a simplistic worldview of “us versus them,” and so on. This trope of the bad guru fits as well as any . . . Well, except for one more perspective that Lachman provides us.

A more far-fetched, but most intriguing perspective, is to consider Trump a “tulpa,” (or ‘telly-tulpa”), a thought-form, an apparition (albeit one with some material reality) created by mental processes. Lachman draws the idea of a tulpa from Tibetan and magical lore. Whatever the empirical validity of such an entity, as a metaphor, it fits. From this, I can conjure a great opening for a piece about Trump: “A specter is haunting America, the specter of Donald Trump.” Catchy, don’t you think? Just keep in mind that this specter is not a friendly genie that will do our bidding and fulfill our wishes, but an evil jinn who seeks to entice us into our own imprisonment.

Lachman is a thorough, reliable guide through the under-explored and labyrinthian ways of experiencing the world that lies outside of the modern mainstream. Lachman has developed a solid reputation for exploring these less traveled by-ways, and this work proves no exception. And I must mention that Lachman approximates an ideal teacher. He informs his reader about ideas, events, and persons with a very light, unobtrusive touch. One must read carefully to get a sense of where his preferences and perspectives lie. He tosses off comments and asides that provide clues, but he’s never ponderous or pedantic. Only at the end of the book, as on the last day of class, does Lachman pull back the curtain and provide a direct statement of his perspective about what he’s shared. His peroration merits careful contemplation:

Exactly what guidelines we impose on our imaginations is, of course, a serious question . . . . But the very power involved suggests we should proceed with caution, as anyone of any seriousness would; only children play with matches. This does not mean timidly, but with care and an awareness of the responsibility involved. The future perhaps is not only in our hands, but in our minds, and the reality that awaits us in the time ahead may be germinating there now. Let us hope that when it arrives we will be equal to it and that it will bring clearer skies and brighter stars on the horizon. 

Lachman, Gary. Dark Star Rising: Magick and Power in the Age of Trump (p. 192). Penguin Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

 As usual, I find myself mostly agreeing or at least sympathetic with Lachman's arguments, even about points where I’m more skeptical—or perhaps to say cautious—about conclusions and connections. All the points in his case merit careful consideration and invite us to a more in-depth exploration of the issues raised.

For me, a book that promotes—even demands—further explorations of its subjects merits the highest valuation, and this book meets this criterion. I could go on at great length sharing and then riffing on the many issues that Lachman’s book raises: the nature of persuasion; the relation between thoughts, beliefs, actions, and reality; the role of ideas in the material world of politics; the thinning barrier between appearance and reality (or simulacra and simulation); the distinction between “imagination” and “fancy” (or “creativity); critiques of modernity and alternatives to modernity; the illusions and deceptions of postmodernism; the potential for civilizational disruption; and (in my words), why the human herd is so spooked that we have stampeded toward a cliff.

I’ll save exploration of these issues for later blogs, but suffice it to say, I highly recommend reading this book to better understand and investigate the uncertain times in which we now live.