By Kevin D. Williamson
Sunday, June 23, 2019
I am second to none in my admiration for William F.
Buckley Jr., but on matters of electoral politics his judgment was not exactly infallible.
For example, he floated the idea of having former president Dwight Eisenhower
join Barry Goldwater’s ticket as the vice-presidential nominee, which was
possibly unconstitutional and certainly preposterous. Professor Kevin Kruse of
Princeton, pretending to correct my assertion that it is a mistake to call the segregationist
Democrats of the Roosevelt era “conservatives,” correctly notes that WFB
believed he had found a kindred conservative spirit in some of those Democrats
and thought that they might be pried away from the Democratic party by the
Republicans, among whom self-conscious conservatism was ascendant by the middle
1960s.
WFB did believe that and wrote as much. And—this is the
part that you would think might interest a professor of history—he was wrong.
With a tiny handful of notable exceptions (the grotesque opportunist Strom
Thurmond prominent among them) the segregationist Democrats remained Democrats.
Why?
The most obvious answer is that they believed what the
Democratic party believed, and believes. This is probably why the so-called
conservative coalition in Congress came to so little: The Republicans and the
Democrats disagreed on the basics, from economics to foreign policy. They
agreed mostly on not thinking much of the big industrial unions and
big-spending urban-development programs.
WFB helpfully published a list of those Democrats he
thought possibly ready to defect to the Republican party. You would have done
well to bet against him. James Eastland? No. John McClellan? No. John Stennis?
No. Sam Ervin? No. Herman Talmadge? No. Allen Ellender? No. Spessard Holland?
No. John Sparkman? Strike . . . eight.
WFB also thought “liberals like Olin Johnson” might be
recruited to the GOP. Strike nine.
While it is easy to get lost in the hurly-burly of
lurching from one election to the next and from one supposed national crisis to
the next, it is remarkable how far back the ideological-partisan lines of U.S.
politics are at least partly visible and comprehensible. In the Wilson era, you
have a Democratic party pursuing centralization and central planning,
suspicious of free markets and competition, allied with academic elites, and
pursuing an agenda of regimentation that Democrats presented as “scientific”
and supported by dispassionate, empirical evidence. Against that, you have a
Republican party allied with business interests, hostile toward taxes and
redistribution, promising a restoration of an idealized prelapsarian American
order—the “return to normalcy.”
Wilson, the godfather of American progressivism, was a
plain and undisguised racist,
backward and vicious even by the standards of his time: The progressive
torchbearer resegregated the federal government. Teddy Roosevelt, the
personification of progressivism in the Republican party, was a frank racist as
well. There was, unhappily, plenty of that to go around for both parties. But
the Republican opposition to the primordial welfare state is entirely familiar
to the modern political ear, whether it was Frederick Hale describing FDR as a
proxy of the Socialist party or Ronald Reagan a couple of decades later warning
about socialized medicine. “Conservatism” in the sense we use the word in
American politics is there to be seen.
There were conservative tendencies in American politics
before the 1930s, but the modern conservative movement was founded on
opposition to the New Deal. The segregationist Democrats, on the other hand,
were for the most part eager supporters of the New Deal—provided it was
administered in a way that would exclude African Americans from most of its
benefits. You do not have to take my word for it—consider the votes: on labor reform, on entitlements, on financial regulation,
etc. If the southern Democrats were “conservatives,” then the New Deal was
passed on conservative support, which is a very odd claim to make. What do we
call the Republican anti-New Dealers, then?
Professor Kruse offers WFB’s description of some southern
Democrats as “conservative” as though this settled the issue. That’s an
adolescent parlor game, and he knows it. But if you want to play it, here’s
Franklin Roosevelt describing the impenitent racist Theodore Bilbo as “a real
friend of liberal government.” That is not something dredged up from the
shadows and margins: It’s from a Ta-Nehesi Coates essay titled “A History of
White Liberal Racism, Continued.” Coates is not exactly a right-wing
provocateur—or, as Professor Kruse likes to put it, a “denialist.”
Professor Kruse’s line here is something between error
and intellectual dishonesty, i.e. willfully conflating the issue of
policymaking in the 1930s with the question of how people talked about
coalition-building politics a generation later. It certainly is the case that
many New Deal liberals were by the 1960s alienated from the Democratic party by
its embrace (or at least openness to) the radical elements of those years.
These were not exclusively southerners: Ronald Reagan was one. (Reagan’s FDR
hero-worship and his intellectual inconsistency regarding the New Deal did a
great deal to soften conservatives who had once vowed to have the New Deal out
root and branch.) And yet very few of those old Democratic bulls crossed the
aisle.
As Ira Katznelson put it in Fear Itself, the
southern progressives stuck by the Democratic party because, in the words of
one contemporary observer, the New Dealers “fought the money power and the big
industries.” (The rest of that quotation reads, in part, “so long as they were
pro-farmer and did not stir up the n*****s.”) Banks and railroads were targets
of particular ire. Again, the modern Republican-Democrat/conservative-progressive
lines are already there, at least in part. And it seems likely that those real
differences in values and loyalties go a long way toward explaining why those
Democrats remained in the Democratic party: They were the Democratic party, to
a considerable extent, and they fundamentally shared its progressivism. The
southern Democrats who helped to create the modern welfare state were not about
to join a Republican party whose conservative firebrands were promising to tear
it down.
If the New Deal Democrats were in some meaningful sense
“conservatives,” we are going to have to come up with a new word to describe
those Republicans who opposed it, and who did so using language and arguments
that remain familiar today.
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