Somehow I missed this stout piece by Austin Bramwell, who was asked to leave the National Review board by Bill Buckley shortly after Buckley had put him (controversially) on it. I know Austin a little bit from my days in NYC, and know his wife much better (we worked together at NR). I knew there was some kind of bad business there regarding his departure, but I never heard the story (and still haven't). But I didn't know he'd written a "goodbye to all that" piece over a year ago in The American Conservative. I'm not sure what Austin personally believes, but I have to say these criticisms of what American conservatism has become strike me as having a lot of merit. I must admit that I see some of myself in his criticism, though more in the body of the fuller essay than in this lengthy excerpt below, which aside from a couple of minor points, I find hard to dispute. :
But “conservatism” has no mystical essence. Rather than a magisterium handed down from apostolic times, it is an ideology whose contours are largely arbitrary and accidental. By ideology, I mean precisely what Orwell depicted in 1984. I do not mean, of course, that conservatism is totalitarian. Taken as prophecy, 1984 has little merit. Taken as a description of the world we actually live in, however, it is indispensable. 1984 reveals not the horrors of the future but the quotidian realities of ideology in mass democracy. Conservatism exemplifies them all.First, like Ingsoc, conservatism has a hierarchical structure. Like Orwell’s “Inner Party,” those at the top of the movement have almost perfect freedom to decide what opinions count as official conservatism. The Iraq War furnishes a telling example. In the run-up to the invasion, leading conservatives announced that conservatism now meant spreading global democratic revolution. This forthright radicalism—this embrace of the sanative powers of violence—became quickly accepted as the ineluctable meaning of conservatism in foreign policy. Those who dissented risked ostracism and harsh rebuke. Had conservative leaders instead argued that global democratic revolution would not cure our woes but increase them, the rest of the movement would have accepted this position no less quickly. Millions of conservative epigones believe nothing less than what the movement’s established organs tell them to believe. Rarely does a man recognize, like Winston Smith, his own ideology as such.
Second, conservatism is concerned less with truth than with distinguishing insiders from outsiders. Conservatives identify themselves in part by repeating slogans (“we are at war!”) that, like “ignorance is strength,” are less important for what (if anything) they say than for what saying them says about the speaker. At the same time, to rise in the movement, one must develop a habitual obliviousness to truth, or what Orwell labeled “doublethinking.” Anyone who expresses too vociferously too many of the following opinions, for example, cannot expect to make a career in the movement: that the Soviet Union was not the threat that anti-communists made it out to be, that the current tax system discriminates in favor of the very wealthy, that the Bush administration was wrong about the Iraq invasion in nearly every respect, that the constitutional design itself prevents judges from deciding cases according to the original meaning of the Constitution, that global warming poses small but unacceptable risks, that everyone in the abortion debate—even the most ardent pro-lifers—inevitably engages in arbitrary line-drawing. Whether these opinions and others are correct or not matters little to the movement conservative, even if he knows next to nothing about the topic at hand. If you do not reject these opinions or at least keep quiet, you are not a movement conservative and will be treated accordingly.
Third, and closely related to doublethinking, the conservative movement engages in selective editing of history. When events have a tendency to disconfirm ideology, down the memory hole they go. Thus, conservatives do not recall their dire warnings about the Soviet Union during the Cold War or about the economy after the Bush I or Clinton tax increases. On the Iraq invasion, they will not remind you of their claims that Iraqis would welcome us as liberators, that the world would soon be applauding the Iraq invasion, or that events in Lebanon and the Ukraine heralded global democratic revolution. Nor will conservatives remind you of their predictions that the insurgency’s demise was imminent, that Saddam Hussein and then Zarqawi were the Big Men of the insurgency, or that the insurgency consisted largely of foreign jihadis. As in 1984, the ability to forget that any of these events ever occurred signals one’s loyalty to the movement. (Hence, the rise of hawkishness against Iran, not four years after the last effort to sell a war to an otherwise balky public.) To prove his loyalty to the emperor, everyone must compliment him on his new clothes. The most loyal believe that the emperor is wearing clothes to begin with.
Fourth, conservatism is entertaining. Understanding the world, though rewarding, provides nothing like the pleasures of a “Two Minute Hate,” a focused, ritualized denunciation of enemies. To induce its own Two Minute Hates, conservatism, like Ingsoc in 1984, manufactures bogeymen such as “judicial activists,” “so-called realists,” or “moral relativists” that become symbolic representations of detested outsiders. Meanwhile, like the Inner Party in 1984, conservative leaders tolerate the more vulgar, angry purveyors of ideology—think talk-show hosts or authors of bestselling political books. The most vicious attacks, meanwhile, are reserved for turncoats, like Goldstein in 1984. (Of course, as many paleoconservatives could attest, the hatred is usually mutual.) Rooting for conservative ideology is as engrossing to its partisans as rooting for the local football team is to its fans.
None of this is to suggest that conservatism is uniquely pernicious. The roots of ideology lie deep in our cognitive limitations and instinct for group loyalty. One could make similar observations of any ideology. The most distinguishing feature of conservatism is its misleading name. Lexically, “conservatism” denotes caution, prudence, and resistance to change. Conservatism the ideology, however, has if anything tended towards recklessness. “Nuke ‘em!” has always been a popular conservative sentiment, never more so than today with respect to the Muslim world. For frantic boast and foolish word / Thy mercy on thy people Lord!
Now I'm thinking that the best thing to do on Election Day might just be to take the day off and get plastered. Seriously, reading that made me realize that I don't know which outcome would make me more depressed: a Democratic presidential victory, or four more years of Republican rule from the White House.
(H/T: Mark Shea)

Add to Newsvine
Add to StumbleUpon
People are going to do what they are going to do, law or no.
I don't agree. Out here in the real world, laws often have a deterrent effect. A lot of drivers keep to the speed limit, stop at red lights, only because they don't want to get a ticket with its attendant fines and increases in insurance rates. Certainly law does not prevent all bad behavior, but for one feel safer on the road knowing that respect for the law (or, fear of it) inspires the actions of so many of my fellow drivers.
I tend to feel that the existence of a law tends to make more criminals than it stops.
Would this be true of the laws about stopping at red lights, for example? Are you contending that more people run red lights because there is a law against it, or are you making the obvious statement that if there wasn't a law against running the red light, those who do would not be "criminals?"
Our task, as explicitly explained by Buddha himself, is "Your work is to find out what your work should be and not to neglect it for another's. Clearly discover your work and attend to it with all your heart." (Dhammapada, v. 166) In short, stop trying to do what someone else needs to do for themselves. Start working on yourself. In meaning, it resonates well with Jesus's words about the speck in someone else's eye (Mt. 7:3-5)
OK, clear enough.
From a secular point of view, yes, laws are necessary.Even my fellow buddhists are aware of that. You can't very well get to a state of enlightenment without the right conditions in place.
Why not?
But it is helpful to remember that laws must be based on compassion, rather than harsh judgment or arbitrary decisions made by leaders. I don't view law as a lawyer, obviously. I view law (as I see it should be) as a sort of gentle rebuke that lets people see their mistakes, learn from them, and work to be better because of that learning, that experience.
Myself, I'd like law and law enforcement to provide conditions where I don't have to fear being raped and murdered in broad daylight when I walk down the street (or hit from the side when I cross an intersection on the green light). I realize that if I were truly enlightened I wouldn't care if I were raped and/or murdered, but I'm not there yet.
Some people will be more dense, and some will wake up to the results of their actions.
Yes, but shouldn't we be trying to restrain these dense folks with something a bit more muscular than "gentle rebuke"?
From a Buddhist perspective, there is nothing that is eternally and universally true without condition. Everything is interdependent and conditional.
OK. Certainly. If you get that lofty a view, abortion, murder, rape, pillage, torture - none of it matters. Why would abortion be singled out for this lofty and compassionate treatment, or are these other crimes also of no consequence?
Christopher Mohr's first paragraph above on the entrenched egotism which disables dialogue sent me back to a 1973 essay on Gandhi in the great neo-Platonist/East-West weekly MANAS, worth pondering by anyone attending to what the philosopher Sidney Hook famously called "the ethics of controversy":
http://manasjournal.org/pdf_library/VolumeXXVI_1973/XXVI-26.pdf
[quoting two paragraphs by Ram Rattan in the quarterly 'Gandhi Marg']
Joan V. Bondurant clearly distinguishes Gandhi's satyagraha from its obverse, duragraha. She discovers that, in contra-distinction to the former, the latter means stubborn resistance of the opponent's policy or action, "prejudged" to be ipso-facto wrong. The duragrahi regards truth, justice, rightness his monopoly and does not allow the possibility of the opponent also being in the right.
In duragraha, the opponent is regarded as the embodiment of evil. He is not allowed to explain his standpoint. Even the distinction between the wrong and the wrong-doer is not maintained. The duragrahi first destroys his opponent's position in order to destroy his misdeeds. The latter is subjected to maximum suffering. As a matter of fact, there is no meeting ground between the duragrahi and his adversary. The former forces the latter to accept defeat and to grant the desired concessions. The satyagrahi, on the other hand, enables the alleged
evil-doer to prove his point and allows a fair chance of its acceptance.
[MANAS editors resume]
It should be clear that Gandhi aimed at erasing the spirit of partisanship in the fight for justice. The ideal outcome of a conflict, for Gandhi, would be the dissolution of the issue through the agreement of the opponents, instead of a defeat of one with victory for the other. There would be no separate triumph, but a common friendliness. This involves the remaking of attitudes and ideas of "interest," so it requires great patience and persistence. The objective is to
see in what direction the good of all lies, and this often requires a purification of values. Ram Rattan writes:
Gandhi's Satyagraha movements proved that even the dumb and illiterate participants become politically conscious and acquire a better sense of
distinction between justice and injustice, right and wrong. . . . The South African satyagraha, for instance, ennobled the so-called coolies and gave them self-confidence and self-reliance. On its conclusion, Gandhi was himself a transformed person. To quote G. Ramachandran: "Deep within him (Gandhi) there stirred the first awareness of a great mission and we witness the rebirth of the man Gandhi into Gandhi the Mahatma." . . . By precept and example, Gandhi proves that satyagraha can tear tyranny and injustice to pieces and yet "redeem alike the tyrant and his victim.
[MANAS]:
Gandhi is careful...to give examples of situations where Satyagraha has no application...Ram Rattan shows that much of what is now called Gandhian protest is simply duragraha, not satyagraha. In other words, it is not Gandhian at all...
As with most general statements, it is easy to find exceptions to them -- sometimes important exceptions, to be sure -- but that is not the valid method of rebutting them.
"But what about..?" is essentially a strawman within the context of a general statement. It obtains import and relevance when it inhabits a context in which it has a connection to the topic at hand.
My two cents, change accepted:
Law and law enforcement fail to describe the actual generalities in question. There are two kinds of law*: enforced after the crime (rape, murder, theft) and enforced before the crime (those covered by the law are expected to self-enforce by complying with it). That is the distinction within which a rebuttal to Christoper should be framed.
Failure of enforcement and the questions of morality and ethics become clear with that distinction. A person getting away with murder is a failure of those in whom we invest law enforcement power and responsibility. A person getting away with running a red light (absent injuring a person or property along with it) is a failure of self-enforcement. When we (general) talk about the breakdown of morality, the crumbling of our ethics, it is that latter failure of self-enforcement on which we should be focused.
I grant before any response that some issues of law straddle the distinction or cannot be solely pegged to one or the other. I believe, though, that the distinction is still a valuable tool in looking at such issues, if only to warn the observer that the issue is going to be more complex than other issues.
A peeve of mine: people who view law as preventative simply do not understand the basic precepts of a free and open society, or the importance of concepts like innocent until proven guilty, due process and jury by peers.
* It is this distinction that gives us gradations within a type of crime, first and second degree murder being a prime example.
A peeve of mine: people who view law as preventative simply do not understand the basic precepts of a free and open society, or the importance of concepts like innocent until proven guilty, due process and jury by peers.
Nice. So....if I think of the law against dragging women across the parking lot of a shopping center and robbing them (I was in court yesterday) as "preventive," well, then, I "simply don't understand the basic concepts of a free and open society."
Stop. I'm going to get my gun, which is now going under the seat of my car. How this promotes a "free and open society" is for you, Franklin, to figure out.
I am sincerely sorry for your trauma, Susan. Having been a violent crime victim myself, the relative of violent crime victims, and having been on a jury that found itself believing a crime victim but unable to bring a guilty verdict (the prosecutor was a [censored] to the max), I will respectfully ask your permission to rebut your posted statements at a later time.
You are welcome to accuse me of many things, and I will sit still for them, but lack of understanding of crime victims is not one of them. If I'd caught the a**hole who came within two inches of killing my brother, we wouldn't be having this discussion.
Post a Comment
By submitting these comments, I agree to the beliefnet.com terms of service, rules of conduct and privacy policy (the "agreements"). I understand and agree that any content I post is licensed to beliefnet.com and may be used by beliefnet.com in accordance with the agreements.