By Kevin D. Williamson
Tuesday, August 04, 2020
The Right loves a factional brawl, and the past week
brought a pentagonic crossfire between Peggy Noonan, Mona Charen, Charlie
Sykes, Ramesh Ponnuru, and David French, five right-leaning Trump critics who,
as it turns out, don’t agree on very much. The battle has been joined, the
injured moan in agony. . . . Somebody has to go around and bayonet the
wounded, and I have a newsletter to write. So, away we go.
The question is, “Burn It Down, or No?”
Or, to put it another way: “What’s the more pleasing way
to march Republicans onto ice floes and shove their sorry asses out to sea —
one at a time, or all at once?”
“Burn It Down!” has become a shorthand for the less easygoing
kind of anti-Trump conservative. (Apologies, Millennials and nitwits: I do not
think or write in hashtags, and if that is what you are looking for, look
elsewhere.) For members of the Burning faction, to see Donald Trump lose in
2020 would be insufficient — their view is that the Republican Party as a whole
must be punished for its energetic embrace of Trump and Trumpism. For some,
such as the gentlemen of the Lincoln Project, that means not only actively
supporting Joe Biden’s presidential campaign but also working to pick off congressional
Republicans, especially vulnerable senators — some make the case for voting
straight-ticket Democrat as a matter of civic hygiene.
The Not For Burning faction argues that this is an
overreaction and that it is counterproductive, inasmuch as taking down Lincoln
Project targets such as Senator Susan Collins of Maine would leave the
Republican Party not only smaller but also Trumpier — it would be easier
to knock off the last New England moderate than it would be to take down Ted
Cruz or Jim Inhofe. Surely, the Not For Burning faction argues, the answer
cannot be a Republican Party that is both politically weaker and
politically worse than it already is?
In Mona
Charen’s estimate, a November bloodbath for the GOP would represent in real
terms a small political loss, maybe even an almost inconsequential one, and a
price worth paying. One by one, Republicans rolled over and cowered at the fear
that the president might . . .
mean-tweet them. Lindsey Graham went from Dr. Jekyll to Senator Jackass
in a flash and never looked back. Senator Cruz buddied up to a guy who called
his wife ugly and his father an assassin. Jeff Sessions . . . oh, Jeff
Sessions. “They believed that they were powerless and acted accordingly,”
Charen writes. “Since they were powerless when it counted, what difference
would it make if voters were to make it official?” Charen’s column is in many
ways persuasive, but there it leaves an aftertaste of “It couldn’t possibly be
worse.”
It can always be worse.
Ramesh Ponnuru sees such Burners as “engaged
in an ideological dispute disguised as a tactical argument.” And, as
tactics go, they ain’t much. “Most of the people who vote for a post-Trump
Republican candidate in 2024 are going to be people who voted for Trump,”
Ponnuru writes. “Any competitive center-right party after Trump will by
necessity represent substantially the same voters who put him into power in
November 2016 and have sustained him in it since then. Any strategy for
changing the Republican Party that fails to reckon with that fact is doomed.”
My guess is that the overwhelming majority of Republicans
and Republican-leaning voters will vote for Trump in November without much of a
second thought, being, as they insist that they are, somewhere between
satisfied and ecstatic about his performance.
While I appreciate, share, and endorse Ponnuru’s
pessimism, I do not think Republicans are fully considering their options.
Educated, affluent suburbanites used to vote Republican in large numbers, and
now they do not. They didn’t just all misplace their golf clubs and their penny
loafers at the same time. The GOP chose to become the National
Farmer-Labor Party. Ponnuru is right that a party numerically dominated by
Trumpy voters is going to be a Trumpy party, but the Trumpy voters aren’t the
only voters to be had. And if the non-Trumpy right-leaning voters would have an
easier time winning elections with the Trumpy ones on their side, the reverse
also is the case. November is going to be a test of whether the Trump tendency
can do it on its own — or, more accurately, of whether the GOP can do without
the anti-Trump Right.
(Two quick things before I go on: First, it is worth
noting that this conversation mostly assumes that Trump is going to lose in
November, which probably will be the case but may not be the case. Second, it
is easier to write up the differences within the anti-Trump Right than within
the Trumpy Right because all the anti-Trump people have columns and the Trumpy
people have radio shows. The medium is the message, after all!)
David
French frames this in part as a question of “grace,” asking us to consider
“the monumental pressures that Donald Trump has placed on the entire GOP and
the lack of good options that so many GOP officeholders faced.” Oh, I don’t
know about that: Congress is full of men and women who have utter contempt for
their positions, but who feel very strongly about having a position of some
kind, and if the fear of returning to the private sector is “monumental
pressure” for a bunch of second-rate lawyers . . . well, they asked for the
damned job. (“Begged,” as one of those schmucks who has watched too many mob
movies likes to sneer, “like a dog.”) I, too, believe in grace. If you ask for
my forgiveness, my forgiveness will be forthcoming. And if you ask me for a
loan, I am going to check your credit. We can treat people with grace without
also trusting them with great power knowing that we have good reason not to
trust them with that power.
French suggests we pick and choose: Most of Republicans
currently under fire are “not the chief offenders or culprits who led
the United States to its present national predicament.” Instead, he writes,
“each Republican should be judged on his or her own merits,” and that we should
reserve our wrath for “individual Republicans” who have “displayed excessive
individual flaws that should disqualify them from office.”
French knows his Bible, and he is here playing the part
of Abraham pleading for Sodom: “Will you sweep away the righteous with the
wicked?” What if there are 50 righteous men in the city? What if there are 45?
What if there are 40? What if there are ten?
What if it’s just Mitt Romney and Ben Sasse?
I am not sure that making an exception for the few
Republicans who have stood tall in the past four years would actually put that
much practical room between David French’s position and Mona Charen’s:
Everybody likes Ben Sasse, Justin Amash has had enough and is calling it quits,
and Mitt Romney doesn’t face another election until . . . 2024. I’m probably
forgetting somebody.
We’re going to need a bigger ice floe.
Peggy
Noonan raises an important question, maybe the most important question in
this debate: How should we think about the state of the Republican Party before
Trump?
That is a real dividing line: The Lincoln Project view is
that there is no “clean” GOP, that the modern American Right has always really
been about boobism, racism, and money-grubbing, from William F. Buckley Jr. to
Barry Goldwater to Ronald Reagan. A less categorical version of that argument
(and a more plausible one) is that the conservative political movement, like
any major social movement, has always had its share of cranks, grifters, and
careerists, and that the politicians associated with that movement have been
content to “hunt where the ducks are,” as Senator Goldwater put it, taking
votes (and donations) from where they are available without asking too many
questions about it unless they were forced to. Yes, National Review did
important work in chasing out the Birchers and various other nut-cutlets of the
midcentury Right, just as on the left a few labor leaders in those same years
did heroic work in excluding the Communists. You meet whackadoodles in
politics, everywhere: I’ve met them at Trump events, at Hillary Clinton events,
at Bernie Sanders events (Oh, my!), at the Republican National Convention, at
the Democratic National Convention, at a Louis Farrakhan speech, at a meeting
of the San Bernardino city council — everywhere.
But in 2016, the whackadoodles ended up actually running
the Republican show for a minute, and the whackadoodle
voice is at the moment quite prominent on the right, part of the
intellectual race to the bottom led by social media and cable news. For this,
Peggy Noonan blames . . . the current anti-Trump Republicans, who “never seem
to judge themselves.”
Mr. Trump’s election came from two
unwon wars, which constituted a historic foreign-policy catastrophe, and the
Great Recession, which those in power, distracted by their mighty missions,
didn’t see coming until it arrived with all its wreckage. He came from the
decadeslong refusal of both parties’ leadership to respect and respond to
Americans’ anxieties, from left and right, about illegal immigration. He came
from bad policy and bad stands on crucial issues.[end block
Noonan is partly conflating politics and policy here.
Yes, the Bush-era wars ended up being unpopular, but that does not necessarily
mean that Bush was wrong on the policy question. (He was, not because his
initiatives ended up being unpopular but because they ended up being ineffective.)
Noonan is right to point to immigration. In the United States as in Europe the
failure — the refusal — of responsible political parties to respond to
immigration concerns created opportunities for demagogues such as Donald Trump,
Nigel Farage, and Marine Le Pen, although once again we should emphasize the fact
that the responsible parties’ having got it wrong on immigration does not
necessitate that Trump et al. have it right. They mostly don’t. Her argument is
in that sense too narrow (this is not a Bush phenomenon or even a uniquely
American phenomenon) and also ahistorical: Trump is not the first Trump-style
presidential candidate we have seen, and Trumpism did not arise from the
financial crisis or the failure in Iraq. Trump’s shrewd insight was in running
Ross Perot’s campaign inside the Republican Party rather than as a
third-party candidate. Trump, remember, was for a time affiliated with Perot’s
startup Reform Party — he even made a half-assed run for the presidency on the
Reform ticket in 2000.
Trump’s campaign was not the result of a “perfect storm,”
as Noonan says, but is rather the expression of a gathering storm that has been
with us since the beginning of World War II. There’s a reason Trump often
sounds like a pre–Pearl Harbor isolationist and why he embraced a slogan from
1940: “America First.” Part of the old tariffs-and-neutrality Fortress America
Right ended up in the Murray Rothbard orbit, and part of it ended up in the
Republican Party, where it has never been entirely comfortable alongside the
free-traders and Big Business types and the Wilsonian “make the world safe for
democracy” types. They raged against Rothschild and Morgan a generation ago,
and they rage against Bezos and Zuckerberg today.
Another way of saying that is that the spiritual
descendants of Bill Buckley and Milton Friedman are on one side of the table
while the epigones of Robert Taft are on the other, and what’s no longer
obvious to everybody is why they are sitting at the same table at all when it
is increasingly clear that their fundamental values, intellectual tendencies,
and moral frameworks are not only distinctly different but incompatible.
Somebody is going to have to go.
That is why Charlie
Sykes is so obviously irritated that Peggy Noonan declines to name names.
To whom is her improving advice offered?
Can you purge Trumpism but still
embrace, say, Marsha Blackburn? Should we make a place at Peggy’s tasteful
table for Seb Gorka? Or Stephen Miller? Or Judge Jeanine? Or Louie Gohmert?
Trump is a problem, but he is not the alpha and omega of what ails the
conservative movement. His ascension suggests that we were all wrong about a
great many things.
Sykes and Noonan are on opposite sides of the looking
glass: Sykes sees the Republican error as accommodating and exploiting
proto-Trumpism for all these years, whereas Noonan sees the Republican error as
not embracing it with sufficient fervor, allowing it to fester in unsupervised
alienation. There is a coherent case to be made for either position. How much corporate
blame you want to put on the GOP for Trump and Trumpism will necessarily
reflect in large part your attitude toward the pre-Trump Republican modus
operandi, and how much you think Trump is a unique and special case vs. how
much you think he is an utterly predictable case of political emphysema after
four packs of outrage a day for 30 years, Newt Gingrich with an inheritance
instead of an education.
Everybody loves a good purge, but real progress means
recruiting new allies and forming new alliances. And that is what the Trump
movement in fact did, aligning the soft xenophobic tendency (anti-trade,
anti-immigration) with the entitlement mentality (“Don’t touch my Social
Security!”) and a whole Chalmun’s Cantina of social anxieties, while promising
a salubrious purge (“Drain the swamp!”) of effete elitists who secretly run the
world while being, at the same time, entirely irrelevant. That alliance worked,
to an extent, in 2016. It didn’t work for George Wallace, Pat Buchanan, or Ross
Perot, and it probably won’t work for Trump in 2020, but it might work again for
somebody else in 2024. It may be electorally viable, but I wouldn’t want any
part of it, and neither would a fair number of other people who were generally
aligned with Republicans for the past 40 years or so. Are they enough to
matter? We’ll have an answer on November 4, but that will not be the end of the
disagreement.
Hence the current crossfire.
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