A compelling and necessary history of how the American conservative movement lost its philosophical compass―and a case for why it must be recovered.
Early on in ‘Fusionism,’ it’s clear that author Stephanie Slade, senior editor at Reason magazine, retains her ideological consistency in the face of the Trump administration’s all-over-the-board policy stances that change unpredictably. She states this in her introduction, opening by recounting how J.D. Vance jettisoned whatever ideological consistency he had previously maintained in service of raw ambition and political expediency. Vance now unabashedly favors the use of state power (as does Trump), a position diametrically opposed to traditional conservative positions of liberty, rule of law, and limited government.
This brief opening, recounting recent history of how the Republican Party has shifted since 2016, represents the jumping-off point for Slade’s richly developed narrative on the origins of fusionism, tracing its intellectual roots back to the 1950s, peaking during the Reagan administration, now relegated to the nosebleed section of the bleachers. Arguably, fusionism’s logical beginnings go back to the founding of America, with its adherence to the tension between liberty and virtue. Initially believed to be at odds with each other, the movement instead fused the two together.
It’s important to note that Slade characterizes fusionism as a term coined to describe a philosophical synthesis, not a political alliance. In her book, definitions are extremely important and rightfully so. Most notably, the term liberal as presently used departs significantly from classical liberalism; in fact, it is nearly the opposite. Essentially, classical liberalism proposes that a good society must be both free and virtuous, with limited government underpinning both.
To make her case, Slade starts with first principles by two men in particular: Friedrich Hayek, whose 1944 book “The Road to Serfdom” had enormous influence over the American mind, representing the liberal perspective, and Russell Kirk, speaking for traditionalists, those focused heavily on virtue. Woven into Slade’s prose are fleeting references to Adam Smith and the now nearly clichéd “invisible hand,” coinciding with Hayek’s notion of “spontaneous order,” both of which augur for free markets and cultural norms over collectivist approaches such as socialism, the latter necessarily requiring a larger role for government. It is here that Slade praises market competition as a superior alternative to central planning, presumably part and parcel of socialist theory, which represents a false choice. Both Hayek and Smith admitted that some sort of legal order would be required to facilitate competition, as opposed to laissez-faire or a pure market economy. Even Smith’s “Wealth of Nations” discusses the prospect of industry leaders colluding for personal gain, essentially providing a rationale for antitrust laws in force today.
Kirk enters the picture with the conservative disposition that a belief in enduring moral order beyond the simple preferences of individuals should constitute the rules of society. Kirk leaned on religion for this, particularly the Judeo-Christian tradition, but argued that shared ethics and morality could and do serve the same goal.
Discussions regarding Hayek and Kirk segue to Frank S. Meyer, editor and co-founder, along with William F. Buckley Jr., of the National Review, who articulated a vision of American conservatism, in which virtue and liberty were non-negotiable features. Essentially, Meyer argued that libertarians and traditionalists mistakenly believed they were at odds with each other, setting the stage for the fusionist perspective. Liberty and virtue comprise the pillars on which a good society rests, according to fusionists, and both are necessary to achieve human flourishing. Slade also cites some of Meyer’s nuances on fusionism by specifying that minimalist government will best ensure liberty, while fostering virtue should fall into the realm of nongovernmental organizations. Though Meyer died in 1972, his legacy lives on in currently nascent conservative circles.
Chapter five opens with the fateful 2016 Republican nomination of Donald Trump, who uttered the words “I alone can fix it,” implying that solving the country’s challenges required handing power to one man. Slade writes that Trumpism differs from old-school fusionism in three key aspects. First, rather than calling for a small, decentralized government with limited scope of action, a strongman approach to conservative politics should be employed. Second, under Trump, economic policy veered from free markets at home and free trade abroad to aggressive intervention, including punitive tariff policies to engineer particular outcomes. The Trump economic policies openly flouted the rule of law, running far afoul of the classical liberal belief. Lastly, his cheap personal insults and willingness to transgress norms stand in stark contrast to Reagan’s respect for ideas and elevated rhetoric, civility, and personal grace, according to former speechwriter Peter Wehner.
For good or ill, Slade’s book went to press during the first year of Trump’s second administration, so events surrounding the Iran war and its implications are not addressed. It’s not clear, for example, if the conflict will mostly impact near-term political considerations, or whether a sea change in ideology takes place in the aftermath, whatever that denouement turns out to be. In that regard, the book focuses on the more timeless aspects of fusionism’s history and ideological foundations.
The case made in ‘Fusionism’ is fine as far as it goes, providing a detailed chronicle of the conservative movement in America. However, the selective narrative simply leaves out too much content that must necessarily go beyond just liberty and virtue to include the reconciliation of politics, economics, ecosystems, and freedom. While perhaps seemingly unrelated, several examples may prove helpful to understand how they interconnect.
The price-to-cost ratio of insulin in the U.S., as much as 125:1, is nothing short of obscene and is chiefly due to pharmaceutical industry concentration combined with a convoluted healthcare system rife with middlemen exhibiting what economists call rent-seeking behavior. Slade basically gives large, market-dominating corporations a pass, rarely mentioning them at all except in the context of a fictitious competitive environment. One of her criticisms of Trumpism is the strongman approach, which, as former New Jersey governor and federal prosecutor Chris Christie has noted, means that when CEOs say jump, the boss-employee power equation requires workers to invariably respond, “How high?” The CEO mentality explains much about why Trump has either struggled with or simply ignored the typically collaborative policymaking process required to deal with other elected individuals who cannot simply be fired at will. Further, the deference to stockholder primacy, as exemplified by the widely accepted theory of maximizing shareholder value, the dubious concept ubiquitously taught in business schools, completely leaves out stakeholders such as customers and non-senior executive employees. Economist Thomas Piketty’s research demonstrates that returns from increases in productivity since the late 1970s, the primary basis by which standards of living can rise and corporate profits increase, have gone to stockholders and corporate executives instead of being shared equitably with employees, as they once were. One need only observe increases in CEO pay over the past few decades compared to working-class paychecks. Contrary to protestations by Slade and others, talent does not necessarily equate to income – lots of marginally capable or altogether incompetent CEOs make a lot of money for making a mess of things.
Slade argues that virtue should generally lead to a happy life, so why not spell the goal out explicitly by employing the term quality of life and actually measuring it. Rather than constantly tracking economic indicators, most notably gross domestic product, policymakers could broaden goals that embrace the whole being of a person. Slade only briefly alludes to this on nearly the last page of the book, correctly pointing out that utilitarian pursuits have obscured the joys of studying great works to discover what is true, good, and beautiful.
Finally, it must be said that liberty in the face of an entire host of prospective ecosystem collapses looming on the horizon is an aspiration found wanting. For further elaboration, I refer readers to Johan Rockström-led research identifying nine environmental boundaries, seven of which humans have transgressed into high-risk territory. If conservatives are loathe to acknowledge threats from climate change, there are several other categories of ecosystem service losses from which to choose the potential demise of humanity. We should remember that without ecosystems, there is no economy, and ultimately no liberty or freedom either.
As Slade remarks when she makes the case for individual liberty on the book’s second-to-last page, free breath is good. In a world teeming with over eight billion souls, filling the environmental sink with more waste than it can absorb or regenerate may eventually make those free breaths harder to come by in the years ahead. Relying on some astonishing sense of virtue that transcends our frontier mentality, fueling a no longer tenable concept of liberty, may very well turn out to be a bridge too far.
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