Well, then, what shall we call it?

If the term "conservatism" has been hopelessly defiled, how shall we be identified?

Consider this a revisit of a topic I broached in June, in a post entitled “I’m Thinking Maybe We Should Just Let the Trumpists Have the Term ‘Conservative’ Since They’ve Defiled It So Badly.” It warrants more discussion now that the 2024 Republican presidential candidates (with one notable absence) have had their first debate.

Pre-Trump conservatives have acknowledged that their vision holds together strains among which there’s obvious and inevitable tension. That’s what Frank S. Meyer’s concept of fusionism was all about: finding the fit that accommodates free-market economics, traditionalism and primacy of place of a transcendent order, and vigilance against the totalitarian tendency. I don’t think a detailed history of how that triune arrangement has held together - and hasn’t - is necessary here. Human beings are, as we know, flawed, as in given to inconsistency, and we’re each individuals with particular backgrounds that shape our viewpoints. Held against a pure standard, the policy “mistakes” of both the Bushes, Newt Gingrich, Paul Ryan, Mitch McConnell, any given governor or state legislature, and even he who spoiled us with his degree of consistency, the singularly exemplary Ronald Reagan, open the door to debate as to whether they disqualified those figures from bearing the conservative banner.

The parameters of what the current crop of also-rans (we’ll take up the matter of the Very Stable Genius shortly) have established as the “conservatism” on offer this cycle are probably best defined by the positions of Mike Pence and Vivek Ramaswamy.

Pence wants desperately to put his obsequious relationship with Trump behind him and dust off the bona fides he burnished as head of the statewide think tank Indiana Policy Review, radio talk show host, House member, governor, and Vice President:

Mike Pence sat on Wednesday in a cavernous machine shop that was humming with activity as he preached old-time Republican religion: the dangers of the swelling national debt, the need to overhaul Social Security and Medicare, the perils of price controls on prescription drugs and the necessity of projecting military might across the globe.

No more than two dozen Iowans had come to C & C Machining in Centerville to hear the last Republican vice president as he pursues his party’s nomination for president. And the ones who showed weren’t so sure how many G.O.P. voters still believed in a gospel that his former running mate, Donald J. Trump, has spent eight years rendering largely obsolete.

It sounds nice as far as it goes, and he leaves open the opportunity to do a little reading between the lines, as in the unstated assumption that ascribing to government the function of looking after citizens’ aging and health concerns takes us far adrift from what James Madison saw as government’s proper scope.

But there are still memories of such moments as when George Stephanopolos ate his lunch on national television in the wake of the dustup over Indiana’s religious freedom law, as well as his staying on the presidential ticket with Trump after the Access Hollywood tape came to light. Pence may be steeped in the writings of the great conservative thinkers, but his track record for staying the course when defending those principles is sketchy.

On the other end of the spectrum of aspirants is Ramaswamy, who is looking more by the day like an obvious film-flam artist:

Ramaswamy’s adept leveraging of Trumpian language is less an embrace of ideology than a shrewd tactical move. In a political climate where Trump’s influence looms large, Ramaswamy has made Trumpism his own, albeit with a bit more nuance. When it comes to politically sensitive topics such as Ukraine or Taiwan, Ramaswamy is adept at threading the needle. He panders to Trump’s base with an initial broad stroke — arguing for a more hands-off approach to these nations’ security affairs — only to follow it up with a meticulously detailed explication that he can seemingly recite from memory. This strategy allows him to engage a broad swathe of Republican voters, from the most zealous Trump supporters to those who prefer a more nuanced stance, as well as some anti-imperialists on the isolationist Left. When media outlets or rival candidates accuse him of U-turning or selling out his own party, Ramaswamy counters by claiming his remarks are taken out of context. And then, with remarkable alacrity, he delivers the much-needed context, nullifying the critiques.

For all the attention he commands, however, Ramaswamy remains an enigma. Yes, he’s a family man, a monotheistic Hindu, a Harvard and Yale graduate, and an an accomplished national-level tennis player. But what else is there to him? Is it pure, unadulterated ambition, or is there more than meets the eye?

In the realm of American politics, few debaters have shown Ramaswamy’s rhetorical skill. Consider Senator Ted Cruz, who served as Solicitor General for the state of Texas and has appeared before the US Supreme Court nine times — securing victories in five cases. Cruz has delivered 34 appellate oral arguments, a record unmatched by any practising Texas lawyer or current member of Congress. Yet Ramaswamy’s talent eclipses even Cruz’s considerable gifts. Cruz is smooth, but he is thoroughly unlikable and can’t respond in the off the cuff the way that Ramaswamy has mastered.

At this point, the competition seems less between Ramaswamy and his Republican opponents and more between Ramaswamy and the boundaries of political discourse he is continually pushing. In that battle, he seems to be carving not just a niche but an entirely new landscape.

Ramaswamy’s aptitude for floating between conspiracy theories and fact-based arguments places him in a league above contemporaries such as the gravelly-voiced Robert F. Kennedy Jr. On the subject of climate change, Ramaswamy demonstrates an intellectual dexterity that allows him to reach across the ideological aisle. While he claims not to deny climate change, he simultaneously challenges the prevailing scientific consensus. During last week’s primary debate, he decried the climate-change agenda as a “hoax” and contended that “more people are dying from climate policies than actual climate change”. Later, he acknowledged the impact of burning fossil fuels but lambasted the “climate cult”, advocating for increased oil production and criticising support for a carbon tax.

As always, he has a way of squaring this circle. It’s this acuity that allows him to touch on sensitive topics such as federal-agent involvement in 9/11 or the Capitol riot without igniting the firestorm one might expect from Trump or other less nimble Republicans. It seemingly grants him a greater latitude to explore controversial opinions, as he can unfailingly add layers of caveats and qualifications to everything he says.

Given his talent for argumentation, what Ramaswamy truly believes will remain elusive; this is a man who can say anything. His admiration, for instance, of Elon Musk’s lean approach to business management reflects his libertarian core, exemplified by a desire to reduce the federal government’s workforce by 75%. Yet his political ambition goes beyond libertarian ideals; he aims to exercise presidential power almost akin to an elected monarch: he vows to fire the majority of federal employees, dismantle civil service protections, abolish numerous federal agencies such as the Department of Education and the FBI, and challenge long-established executive orders — a government-trimmer in personnel, if not in budget.

In between, of course, is an array of figures who each can claim some kind of evidence of being driven by recognizable pre-2015 conservatism. But, with the exception of Asa Hutchinson, who, unfortunately, is not going to go anywhere in this race, they’re all tainted by some degree of association with Trumpism.

And on a political level, that has to be a deal breaker for conferring standard-bearer status on anybody.

Rick Perry was exactly right when he said, during the 2016 cycle, that Donald Trump is a cancer on conservatism. That he later conveniently set that aside to serve in Trump’s administration relegated him to the status of one of the multitude that choked doesn’t disprove his assertion.

That cycle eight years ago is what it all comes down to, isn’t it? That an overwhelming number of people - politicians, media personalities, columnists, intellectuals - felt so desperate to frame conservatism’s viability as its ability to politically prevail over political leftism that they’d latch onto someone they knew had no idea what they stood for marked the inflection point from which we probably can never return.

That’s made more obvious by the day. The indictments against Trump range from hush money to a porn star to trying to hang onto classified documents after leaving the White House to trying to pressure Georgia officials to “find votes.” This is not someone any self-identified conservative should have ever come within a thousand miles of.

I’m inclined to think that, of all the things pre-2015 conservatives stood for, acknowledgement of a transcendent order is the one that’s over-arching. It anchors all the others: a Madisonian scope of government, unfettered economic activity between and among people, proper regard for the great achievements of Western civilization, and a personal prioritization of decorum.

The Very Stable Genius made clear his utter ignorance of transcendence with two remarks he made in that 2016 election cycle: his assertion that he doesn’t need divine forgiveness and his characterization of communion as the “tak[ing of] a little cracker” and his Easter Sunday statement:

“Well, it really means something very special. I’m going to church in an hour, and it’s going to be - it’s a very beautiful church. I’m in Florida, and it’s a very special time for me. And it really represents family and get-together and - something, you know, if you’re a - a Christian, it’s just a very important day.”

I’ll close here with two paragraphs from the June post referenced above:

How’s this for a workable foundation on which to build a definition? Conservatism is concerned with that which is immutable and transcendent. It is preoccupied with the higher things enumerated in the excerpt above - beauty, nobility, loyalty, humility, wisdom - but also things that the Left has claimed it champions as well: fairness, connectedness, deliverance of society’s lower rungs from lives of drudgery and discomfort.

But conservatism - at least as it was defined until eight or nine years ago - asks a question that leftism has never really bothered with: on what basis do we call these things good? Why are they preferable to their opposites? To say that an answer to that is self-evident won’t cut it. That basically relies on feelings as a sufficient explanation. It’s the old atheists-can-have-moral-codes argument. It evades the fundamental philosophical question: What’s wrong with evil?

That would preclude giving the time of day to a guy who made the above statements.

But we’ll need a new term for those who strive to uphold such things. To call ourselves conservatives at this very late date is going to give the general public a mistaken notion of who and what we are. Let’s not invite any such confusion.