By Matthew Continetti
Wednesday, February 15, 2023
Early in
the morning of Saturday, January 7, Kevin McCarthy of California was elected
speaker of the House of Representatives. McCarthy won after days of struggle
among Republicans and 15 rounds of voting. His opponents relented after he
agreed to a host of demands that deliver unprecedented authority to the House
Freedom Caucus, a group of more than 50 representatives who are to the right of
both their conference and their country. “I’ll be honest,” McCarthy admitted.
“It’s not how I had it planned.”
You don’t say.
As the
fight over speaker played out on the House floor, I kept noticing references
online to Young Guns: A New Generation of Conservative Leaders, the
2010 memoir and campaign manifesto that McCarthy co-authored with fellow
Republican congressmen Eric Cantor of Virginia and Paul Ryan of Wisconsin. A
copy of the book sits on my desk as I type. Its title and cover photo are drawn
from an issue of the Weekly Standard published in the autumn
of 2007, when congressional Republicans were in the minority. Although I didn’t
contribute to that issue, I worked at the Standard from 2003
to 2011 and was present at the creation of the “Young Guns” concept.
The Weekly
Standard’s executive editor, Fred Barnes, had identified McCarthy, Ryan,
and Cantor as future leaders of the GOP and architects of a Republican
comeback. He came up with the idea of linking them together. Barnes profiled
Cantor, and two junior reporters wrote articles on Ryan and McCarthy. For the
cover, art director Lev Nisnevitch photographed the three men standing in a row
on a balcony in the Capitol overlooking the National Mall.
Now only
McCarthy remains. Barnes’s intuition that Cantor, Ryan, and McCarthy had
potential proved correct, but, as he would be the first to say, the future in
politics is never a straight-line projection of the present. The same forces
that gave Republicans control of the House in 2010 eventually expelled Cantor
and drove Ryan out. The Weekly Standard itself ceased
publication in 2018, another victim of the changing character of the GOP and
American right.
The
Twits and trolls who circulated the cover of Young Guns on the
Internet and snarked that McCarthy would be the next to fall were onto
something, though they’d never be able to articulate it. McCarthy has survived
and become speaker not because he belongs to some illusory “establishment,” but
because he has been able to accommodate and bend to the will of populist
insurgents within the GOP. The original “Young Guns” belonged to a Republican
Party from a different era.
The
dividing line, apparent in retrospect, was the global financial crisis of 2008.
House conservatives were angry with President George W. Bush’s immigration
plans and government spending throughout his second term, but they grew
apoplectic when he asked Congress to approve a $700 billion bank bailout in
September 2008. Then–GOP leader John Boehner of Ohio tried to persuade his
conference to go along with the plan. He, Cantor, and Ryan supported the
measure when it came to a vote on September 29. McCarthy and 132 other House
Republicans voted no. The bill failed. The stock market crashed. A panicked
Congress scrambled to flip votes, and a revised bailout passed on October 3. McCarthy,
it’s worth noting, remained a no.
The
combination of economic calamity and an unpopular war in Iraq brought President
Barack Obama to office in 2009. Within a month of Obama’s inauguration, CNBC
personality Rick Santelli delivered a rant from the floor of the Chicago
Mercantile Exchange, where he called for an end to additional bailouts, fiscal
stimulus, tax hikes, and financial regulations. The traders around Santelli
applauded when he said, “President Obama, are you listening? We’re thinking of
having a Chicago Tea Party in July.” A movement was born. Grassroots protests
sprang up across the country to oppose Obama’s agenda.
For the
Tea Party, the bailouts not only represented Big Government. The bailouts were
perfect expressions of an aloof and self-indulgent elite that paid no price for
its mistakes and whose recklessness endangered the American experiment. The Tea
Party, like Obama, saw itself as “fundamentally transforming the United States
of America.” Except the Tea Party wanted not social democracy but an end to the
form of government that had produced financial disaster and failure in war.
That goal required nothing less than purging the GOP of its pre-2008
sensibility and elites.
The
energy that fueled the Tea Party was often described as “anti-establishment,”
but it is better seen as “anti-systemic.” To varying degrees, its adherents
wanted to overthrow the political and bureaucratic arrangements—either by
limiting government or by simply burning everything down—that they believe
generated failure. Thus, the Tea Party challenged incumbent Republicans who had
voted for the bailout or participated in a corrupt system with as much gusto as
it fought Democrats.
The
irony of the 2010 election, when the GOP picked up 63 House seats, was that
this post-2008 rebellion elevated pre-2008 leaders. Boehner became speaker,
Cantor became majority leader, McCarthy became whip, and Ryan became chairman
of the Budget Committee. It quickly became apparent, however, that Boehner was
uncomfortable around the Tea Party freshmen. He didn’t know how to deal with
them. “Under the new rules of Crazytown,” Boehner wrote in his memoir, “I may
have been Speaker, but I didn’t hold all the power.”
Boehner
clashed with the Tea Party over the debt ceiling in 2011, the fiscal cliff of potential
tax hikes at the end of 2012, and the Rube Goldberg–like attempt to defund
Obamacare that shut down the government in 2013. In the spring of 2014, a Tea
Party candidate primaried Eric Cantor and defeated him. McCarthy became
majority leader. Boehner knew he was the Tea Party’s next target.
By the
end of 2015, his patience with the post-bailout GOP was exhausted. Boehner
resigned from Congress, and Paul Ryan, then chairman of the Ways and Means
Committee, took over as speaker.
The Tea
Party, institutionalized in 2015 as the House Freedom Caucus, loved President
Trump’s combativeness, his brinksmanship, and his resentful and conspiratorial
mindset. Under Trump, Speaker Ryan corralled the House GOP into passing a
long-sought-after tax reform, but by the end of 2018 he too had grown tired of
managing a conference whose lodestars were Tucker Carlson, the Freedom Caucus,
and its reality-television president. Ryan resigned that year after Democrats
won the House, and McCarthy became minority leader.
Speaker
McCarthy is neither an ideologue nor a wonk. He is a classic politico whose
primary interest is the mechanics of building a majority, and whose
adaptability has served him well in climbing to the top of the greasy pole.
More trouble lies ahead, however. Among the unintended consequences of the 2022
midterms was that an electoral repudiation of extremism gave us a narrow
Republican majority that empowers extremists. To appease this faction,
McCarthy, the last of the Young Guns, handed the car keys to reckless drivers
within the populist, nationalist, post-bailout GOP. He will need all his
cunning and unscrupulousness in the days ahead—assuming he is still speaker by
the time you finish this sentence.
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