Showing posts with label Kirk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kirk. Show all posts

Monday, September 11, 2017

Tonsor: America: Liberal or Conservative at the Founding?

I.

A heavy overcast settled over the Huron Valley. Expecting a cold rain at any moment, I sought shelter in Haven Hall. My hope was to intercept Tonsor coming down from his office, then to accompany him on the walk across the Diag to class. I had the proverbial "deep question" for him. Seeing him emerge from the elevator in his Paddington Bear hat, I greeted him and after pleasantries put my subject before him:

"Professor Tonsor, I am interested in how you think about the American founding. A political philosopher I'm reading says that America was the product of the Enlightenment, meaning that it was founded as a classical liberal nation. According to this view, conservatism in America is just classical liberalism's 'right wing,' pushing for freer markets in a free-market system and smaller government in a federal system. American conservatives are thus not like European conservatives who, in reaction to the French Revolution, sought to restore the ancien regime with its monarchy, mercantilism, and three orders. Since that old-world conservative tradition never existed in the U.S. after the founding, what we call 'conservative' on this side of the Atlantic looks much different from conservatism in Europe. Do you think that conservatism in America is just classical liberalism's right wing and nothing more?"



Tonsor responded: "The question, as you ask it, is not well framed. It tries to make the founding an 'either-or' event: liberal or conservative? But the interpretive methods that characterize the humanities encourage us to think not in terms of 'either-or' but in terms of 'both-and.' Complex events elicit divergences of interpretation. Note that I use the plural, "divergences" of interpretation. Given human incomprehension, it is rare to have just one interpretation that is intellectually sufficient.[1]

"Were we all liberals then? Were we all liberals in 1776 and 1787? That's what you're asking. From the viewpoint of the political philosophers who see the founding as the outcome of debate during the Enlightenment, we were liberal. But is there another way of reading the Founding? Taking in the longer perspective of Western civilization, we might ask: Were we conservative in any sense that is prior to and separate from liberalism? And the answer to that question is, yes, most definitely, if you consider the founders' inheritance from the ancient world and Christendom." 

I said, "That longer perspective is what Russell Kirk achieved in The Roots of American Order."[2] 

"There are many who have looked at the American founding in a longer perspective -- Wilson Carey McWilliams, for instance.[3] But since you are taken with Russell Kirk's argument, Mr. Whitney, I'd like you to elaborate."

Oh, my. I was taken aback when Tonsor suddenly lobbed the question back to me -- it was unusual for him to do so. But since I was the one who had just teed up Kirk's Roots, I had to run with it. The ideas in The Roots were once considered mainstream in the academy,[4] and I had read the book with enthusiasm before moving to Ann Arbor. But in the 1980s the book was hardly ever referenced much less taught in American and Western civ surveys. This presented problems for a graduate student. In the company of the methodological gatekeepers in Michigan's history department, it was best not to cite Kirk's Roots since his thesis was considered out-of-date at best; and racist, sexist, classist, and elitest at worst.

Taking a deep breath I said: "There is truth in the claim of the political philosophers. Since we were the first nation established in the modern age, our political economy was liberal from the start. In the first place, we didn't have a feudal or mercantile economy. We had a modern free-market system that owed much to Adam Smith and the Enlightenment. 

"Second, we didn't have a feudal or absolutist monarchy. Instead we had a mixed constitution that was the result of enlightened reflection [5] on liberal philosophers like Locke and republican thinkers like Montesquieu; the resulting federated polity balanced the primacy of the individual (seen in the liberalism of the Bill of Rights) with the primacy of civic virtue (seen in the republicanism of the Northwest Ordinance, Article III), and did so within a framework of innovative checks and balances to thwart the tyranny of the majority (seen in the Constitution of 1787). 

"Third, we didn't have a social order that looked like the ancien regime with its aristocratic privileges, noble titles, and laws upholding primogeniture. Traditionalist European conservatives -- Joseph de Maistre, Louis de Bonald, and Pio Nono -- hated what we were. They condemned 'Americanism.' Our natural aristocracy renewed itself each generation in a relatively mobile society where most could rise due to merit and a little luck. So, yes, in all these fundamental ways, we were not a conservative European nation but a modern liberal one that owed its founding institutions mostly to the Enlightenment."

"Fine, but is there another way of reading the founding?" asked Tonsor in his laconic way.

"Yes," I said, "there's also truth in the claim that our founding was conservative -- deeply conservative in ways that were prior to and separate from liberalism. Our modern liberal roots, strong as they are, do not tell of deeper roots still. America's deeper cultural roots are revealed in our unwritten constitution, our habits of the heart, and our syncretic worldview -- a fusion that holds in dynamic tension the living traditions of ancient Jerusalem, Athens, and Rome, as well as medieval London."

"I'm surprised," said Tonsor, "that you stop at medieval London. Remember that Protestant and Catholic thinkers were engaging the Enlightenment in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Archbishop Fenelon, Bishop Berkeley, John Locke, John Witherspoon -- they sifted the Age of Reason in light of what Jerusalem, Athens, Rome, and London had to teach.[6] Out of that dynamic tension, out of that struggle between those who argued for continuity and those who argued for change, emerged the Founders' syncretic worldview. The intellectual leaders of the American founding -- Adams, Jefferson, Franklin, Hamilton, Madison, Dickinson, Wilson -- stood atop the pinnacle of that worldview." 

One thing about my conversations with Tonsor: He always kept my mind on the stretch. There was no resting with him. I had never read any Dickinson or Wilson and in fact did not know that they were intellectual leaders of the founding.

"Dr. Kirk," I said, "does speak to our moral and spiritual formation. When Americans go to church or temple on Sunday, we are walking into the space inspired by premodern, illiberal religions that originated in the Near East between two thousand and three thousand years ago.[7] In theory liberalism is neutral when it comes to religion. It claims to have no necessary or sufficient need for citizens to believe in the God of the Christians or the God of the Jews. Yet Judeo-Christian moral norms and spiritual comfort have been a cornerstone of our culture from the start."

"Yes," said Tonsor. "To paraphrase Tocqueville: 'I doubt whether man can ever support at the same time complete religious indifference and complete political freedom. I am inclined to think that if he lacks faith, he will be a subject. But if he believes, he has the chance to be free.' Liberalism, he thought, cannot exist in some theoretical cultural vacuum. It needs religion to prop it up."[8]

Sucking in a larger breath, I said: "Another example Dr. Kirk explores comes from our intellectual formation. When young Americans read Plato, Aristotle, Cicero, and others who inform our defense of reason and discourse, they are entering a space inspired by premodern, pre-liberal philosophies that originated in the eastern Mediterranean more than two thousand years ago.[9] Liberalism does not mandate what must be taught. It tries to be value free when it comes to knowledge. It claims to have no necessary or sufficient need for citizens to pursue the ancient classics that originated prior to and separate from liberalism. Yet we know that deep engagement with the 'great books' expands the competence of citizens to assess the human condition and to judge current events."

Tonsor weighed in: "So it seems that, in addition to religion, liberalism needs the interior reflection encouraged by the humanities to prop it up." 

"I think so, yes," I said in agreement. "Still another example in Kirk comes not from the Anglo-Saxons so much as from medieval England after the Conquest. Liberals would like to take credit for many of the developments that have contributed to ordered freedom in the modern age -- the common law, stare decisis, Parliament, habeas corpus, trial by jury, and other individual rights that were later adopted by liberalism.[10] In truth, they cannot. There was no -ism called liberalism when these rights and innovations appeared in the Middle Ages. Yet their absence today would be unthinkable in liberalism's public square."

Tonsor objected: "Stop right there. Using the term, 'public square,' is such a banal descent into cliche."[11]

"Okay," I said, trying to disguise my pique. Unfortunately, I was becoming used to Tonsor's gratuitous criticism of the way I said things. At the same time, I figuratively slapped my forehead since the word "okay" also made him peevish. If ever I wanted to drive him nuts I could say: "The public square is okay." 

It was probably a good thing that I did not have time to dwell on Tonsor's peevishness since we had mounted the stairs and were entering the classroom. I was proud of myself for making the case that classical liberalism could not fully account for the American mind. Using Kirk, I had pulled back the curtain on our founders' deeper conservative roots -- evidenced by the living traditions they embraced from Semitic Jerusalem, Mediterranean Athens, cosmopolitan Rome, and Germanic London. Conservatism was not just the right wing of classical liberalism but something much richer.


II.

After Tonsor slapped his satchel down on the table at the front of the class, he came back to the desk into which I was settling. "You know, Mr. Whitney, we must talk more about The Roots. It's a beautiful work in conception but a flawed work in execution."

My professor's words reminded me of something I'd read between Fort Collins and Ann Arbor the previous summer. At the beginning of the road trip to Michigan I had grappled with Tonsor's "The United States as a 'Revolutionary Society,'"[12] and it occurred to me then that his 1975 essay might be a critique of Kirk's 1974 book. Both were written in anticipation of America's bicentennial celebration, and both sought to plumb the meaning of the American experience. 

Tonsor's thesis was that the American founding revitalized Britain's governing principles and thus could be seen as a conservative event. However, in the process of revitalizing Britain's governing principles, the American founding also unleashed the ideas of liberty and equality to an unexpected degree. After 1776, the empire of liberty would spread as never before. Also after 1776 and especially after the four Civil War years culminating in 1865 -- what Lord Acton called "the Second American Revolution"[13] -- the empire of equality would spread as never before. The American founding, paradoxically, was just as much an act of revolution as it was an act of conservation. Looking back, Kirk had focused on the American founding as a fusion of the living traditions of four old cities -- Jerusalem, Athens, Rome, and London. Looking forward, Tonsor saw the American Revolution as a launchpad that took man's aspiration for more liberty and more equality to new heights. It was both-and: both a conservative and an innovative event; both a stroke for liberty and a stroke for equality.

Given my admiration for both men, I needed to come to terms with the tension between Kirk's and Tonsor's interpretation of the founding era. Each in his own way seemed to sound the right note. Could their notes be harmonized? The Roots was one of my favorite works of history, plumbing the subjects I liked to think about most. It played no small part in my decision to pursue graduate studies in history. The Roots was also an important work since it preserved an interpretation of American history that was important to keep alive, somewhere, anywhere, in the postmodern academy that dismissed it amid a swarm of deconstructing "narratives." But Tonsor's insight was also critically important to understanding how America became the country she was. Could I keep the thought of both men in dynamic tension? 

Kirk published the Roots in 1974 in anticipation
of America's bicentennial celebration.
_________________

Notes

[1] Tonsor thought that the most difficult problems of modern history did not usually involve what happened but why it happened. Rarely was there just one correct interpretation of why a historical event or movement occurred. Sifting a variety of interpretations was thus a fixity in Stephen Tonsor's thought. He demonstrated appreciation for different interpretations in one of his first publications after graduate school, when he assembled and compared then-current interpretations of Nazism: Stephen J. Tonsor, National Socialism: Conservative Reaction or Nihilist Revolt? (New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1959). The pamphlet is in a series called "Source Problems in World Civilization." In a statement that serves as the foreword, the publisher explains that the task of the historian "is essentially one of selection ... for it is only through selection that knowledge can be arranged in meaningful and usable patterns." Tonsor's pamphlet is a selection of the most compelling interpretations of the philosophical and ideological roots of Nazism. Tonsor concludes: "Perhaps the variety and contradiction in the four major interpretations of National Socialism [in this pamphlet] suggest the difficulty involved in reaching conclusions concerning any historical event or movement. Moreover, these are only four among many interpretations.... If the judgments of [conflicting students and historians] are sometimes ambiguous or slow in coming, perhaps the fault lies in mankind's incomprehension rather than in history's opaqueness." (pp. i, 26, 27).

[2] Russell Kirk, The Roots of American Order (Malibu: Pepperdine University Press, 1974). 

[3] Wilson Carey McWilliams, The Idea of Fraternity in America (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973). This award-winning book treats some of the same themes as Kirk's Roots and Tonsor's "The United States as a 'Revolutionary Society,'" but precedes them both.

[4] For an earlier statement of Kirk's basic thesis, see the address by the former president of the American Historical Association, Carlton J. H. Hayes, "The American Frontier -- Frontier of What?" December 27, 1945, American Historical Review, vol. 50, no. 2 (January 1946): 199-216, at URL https://www.historians.org/about-aha-and-membership/aha-history-and-archives/presidential-addresses/carlton-j-h-hayes. 

[5] Alexander Hamilton, Federalist Papers, 1 and 9, 1787. 

[6] For a recent study of the traditionalists' confrontation with the Enlightenment, see Ulrich L. Lehner, The Catholic Enlightenment: The Forgotten History of a Global Movement (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016).

[7] Kirk, Roots, chaps. 2, 5.

[8] Stephen J. Tonsor, "Et tu, brutish?" Christian Science Monitor, April 9, 1979, p. B36.

[9] Kirk, Roots, chaps. 3-4.

[10] Kirk, Roots, chap. 6.

[11] Both Tonsor and I were alluding to a recently published book by Richard John Neuhaus, The Naked Public Square: Religion and Democracy in America (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1984).

[12] Stephen J. Tonsor, "The United States as a 'Revolutionary Society,'" Modern Age, vol. 19, no. 2 (spring 1975): 136-45.

[13] Stephen J. Tonsor, "Quest for Liberty: America in Acton's Thought," Introduction by James C. Holland (Grand Rapids, MI: Acton Institute for the Study of Religion and Liberty, Occasional Paper No. 1, 1993).



Wednesday, August 2, 2017

Tonsor: Introduction: Move to Ann Arbor I

I. 

The calendar flipped to Sunday, August 2, 1987. The thought that it might be my last Rocky Mountain sunrise, after 15 years of living on the Front Range, made a wave of grief well up in my throat. 

Sunrise, Rocky Mountain National Park, southwest of Fort Collins
A sweet intoxicant, these Colorado sunrises. The emerging light on the pinkish granite of the mountaintops recalled some verse composed by a Colorado College poet, Katharine Lee Bates. In 1893, in a bloomer, she ascended the pink summit of Pikes Peak. Though exhausted, she took in the view and was inspired to write, "Oh, beautiful, for spacious skies...."[1]

Oh beautiful indeed: What on earth was I thinking -- to trade the Rockies for the Rust Belt? To make matters worse, several of my newest neighbors in Fort Collins hailed from Michigan. They reported that the economic hardships there had given rise to a mordant assessment of the future: Would the last person out of Michigan please turn off the lights? 

No matter. I decided to swim against the current, betting that my future would be better if I continued my education not at a land grant school but at a public ivy. 


Colorado State University -- the Oval

Now, I do not want to convey the wrong impression. I had received an excellent education at Colorado State; my history, literature, and German professors had been first rate, and I think of many of them fondly to this day. But Michigan was ranked one of the top universities in the world and, given the difficult job market for new Ph.D.s in European intellectual history, I'd need the cache Michigan boasted. It was time to go.

The day before, a few family and friends helped me pack a 20-foot U-Haul for the long-awaited adventure. It struck me as funny to look at that truck and realize, once the cargo door was shut, that my entire material existence -- mostly books, too many books, as my sore arms attested -- could be squeezed into a few hundred cubic feet.

The sun was still hanging low over the High Plains when I climbed into the cab of the truck to begin the 1,244 mile journey from university housing at Colorado State to university housing at Michigan. The plan the first night was to lay over in Lincoln, Nebraska; the second night, in the south suburbs of Chicagoland; and the third, in my new home in Ann Arbor. I felt excited, nervous, and crazy all at once. I stood at the edge of my personal Rubicon -- it was Interstate 25. Once crossed, was there no turning back?


II.

When my emotions are in a high boil, I try and settle by taking on an intellectual puzzle that focuses my mind on something besides limbic turmoil. For the three-day drive to Michigan I set myself the task of reading a troika of essays by Stephen Tonsor, the man who would soon become my graduate advisor. I picked three pieces that were published roughly a decade apart from one another -- 1964, 1975, 1985 -- to see what changed and what didn't in Tonsor's interests and insights. 

The night before setting out on the leg between Fort Collins and Lincoln, I read "The United States as a Revolutionary Society."[2] Somehow it just felt right to start with this essay. Tonsor's piece promised to deliver a first-rate intellectual puzzle. It was audacious for a conservative to argue in 1975, on the eve of America's bicentennial, that our nation renewed itself through periodic social revolutions. Such a line of thought was more likely to come from the typewriter of Tonsor's most famous student radical, Tom Hayden of SDS, than from a stick-in-the-mud right-winger. Why did he write it?

To get to Ann Arbor I had to go through a place called Lincoln. The 16th president's namesake on the Nebraska prairie made me wonder how social revolution might be linked to Lincoln's presidency. There was abundant material with which to work. Lincoln will forever be associated not only with the liberation of four million Blacks; not only with abolishing the institution of chattel slavery on American soil; not only with atonement for the Founders' sins; not only with the greatest uncompensated transfer of "property" in U.S. history; but also with the far-reaching alteration of the Constitution. Did Tonsor believe that the three great Civil War amendments were accelerants to the fiery social upheavals to come -- farmer unrest, labor unrest, anarchist terror, women's suffrage, the Civil Rights movement, and the Sixties' protests?

Was the first Republican President, Abraham Lincoln,
a key figure in furthering America's legacy of periodic social revolutions?

Juxtaposed to this last point was a counterpoint. My journey would take me through some of the most conservative parts of the fruited plain, the lonely vastness of the Great Plains as well as the rural Midwest straddling the 98th Meridian (more or less the line from Mitchell, SD, to Grand Island, NE, to Hutchinson, KS). Would Tonsor's intellectual history of America crash head-on into the reality of the historical geography I was traveling through?


III.

As the serrated knife-edge of the Front Range faded in my rearview mirror, I needed to shake off the emotional detritus that had settled over my spirits like a High Plains dust storm. My questions about Tonsor's essay provided the needed distraction.

Tonsor wrote that his was a "rather daring thesis." Really? Daring to whom? Not to the historians in his department. At Michigan Tonsor was surrounded by Old Leftists, New Deal liberals, and New Leftists who would not view his thesis as daring at all. 


Edmund Burke's view of the American Founding appealed to
traditionalist conservatives. The Burkean view was that
it was "a revolution not made, but prevented."
(See http://www.mmisi.org/ma/29_04/kirk.pdf)
Tonsor thought this a gross simplification of the Revolution.

Then it occurred to me: In Modern Age Tonsor was writing not to the typical academic historian but to his friends in the Philadelphia Society[3], about as conservative a professional audience as one could find. Most members of Philly Soc viewed the Founders as reluctant revolutionaries. Indeed, the Constitution they framed reinforced conservative practices and institutions in the new republic, including the most backward and ugly of them all -- chattel slavery -- so odious that the word "slaves" is not even mentioned in the document; instead the Framers made an oblique reference to "all other Persons." Tonsor, I realized, was writing a corrective to the conservative boilerplate he heard at Philadelphia Society meetings.

"It is important," averred Tonsor, pushing the point, "that we demonstrate clearly the truly revolutionary character of the events of 1776 and their continuing impact on American society." To back his testimony, Tonsor called two witnesses who were not usually brought in for a conservative's defense: Charles and Mary Beard. These prominent progressives believed that
Mary Ritter Beard (1876-1958)
"the American Revolution was more than a war on England. It was in truth an economic, social, and intellectual transformation of prime significance -- the first of those modern world-shaking reconstructions in which mankind has sought to cut and fashion the tough and stubborn web of fact to fit the pattern of its dreams."[4]
Even more startling was Tonsor's next assertion, aimed I think directly at his conservative friends who, he believed, did not have a sound grasp of our nation's historical DNA: 
"But even without the Beards' respected view we know that there was a genuine revolution because we live out its enduring consequences and its continuing ramifications. Indeed, one of our least admirable contemporary attitudes is our retreat from the novelty and the implications of our revolutionary heritage and our search (a vain one to be sure) into what we think to be the quiet reaches of the past for a golden age of tranquility. Surfeited on change we imagine that at some golden moment in some imagined American Camelot men were free of the necessity to choose and to change; the necessity that the original revolutionary transformation of our society has imposed on all of us. While the Left sees insufficient change ... the Right rejects those changes which necessarily follow from the principles of the revolution."[5]
The Right got it wrong, for the ability of American society to absorb revolutionary change, argued Tonsor, was written into America's very political institutions and charters: 
"in the final analysis, it is our basic institutions and the founding instruments of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution which have perpetuated our values and given our system its elasticity and its dynamism."[6]
Tonsor believed the Founders were reluctant rebels -- in fact, he conceded that "Few, if any, revolutions have been so conservative in their inspiration" -- but rebels they were:
"... [O]nce those liberties and historical rights were taken seriously, once they had become the central principle of a new polity, they changed and transformed the whole texture of American political and social life. It was, indeed, as though the American Revolution had salvaged the great vital principle that stood at the heart of the English historical experience and had given it new life and meaning....  
"Sometimes an act of conservatism is a truly revolutionary action. The concrete realization of specific liberties, no matter how partial or incomplete, was in the instance of the American Revolution the great device by which liberty permeated the totality of American life in the years that were to come. That process has not ended and I would like to remind you that success as well as failure exacts a price."[7]
That such passages flowed from the pen of a "conservative" historian vexed me. I wasn't sure how to square the essay with the reputation of its author. But as there was no internally logical flaw in the argument, I counted myself fortunate to have encountered the piece early in my graduate education. The Michigan professor was not just correcting some mistaken notions that conservatives held about American history; he was issuing a warning to those conservatives, a warning not reflexively to condemn the revolutionary tradition in our heritage.


IV.

Already from his essay I surmised three things about my new graduate advisor. First, Tonsor was going to call history exactly as he saw it. He wasn't afraid to cite the work of progressives when it had merit. He certainly was not going to worry about what his conservative friends would think if he did so. The scholar should have the courage to follow the evidence where it leads, regardless of the political stripe of the people supplying the evidence. Indeed, sifting through the merits of different perspectives is the only way to get closer to the truth.

Another thing that surprised me about Tonsor -- surprised me in light of what I expected a conservative to be -- was his unvarnished realism, his lack of sentimentality, when investigating the past. There was no golden age. Not even America's founding constituted a golden age. He loathed the conservative tendency to conjure one into existence in order to go off on all that has gone wrong in the present. I suspected that Tonsor was an Augustinian Christian -- i.e., he believed that human nature is a constant, always and everywhere subject to the same venal and mortal sins. So the good old days were not that good. The temptation to fall for a politics of nostalgia -- to create the myth of a golden age, no matter how understandable in a Time of Trouble -- is a perverse form of ignorance. It was more benighted even than the poor mass of humanity staring at the back wall of Plato's cave. 

Third, America was at least as revolutionary as it was conservative, and the two impulses were in dynamic tension with one another. It seemed Tonsor was saying that the dynamic tension was not such a bad thing. It beat traditionalism, which is the dead faith of the living, and it beat neophilia, which is the love of change for its own sake. Both traditionalism and neophilia lead to cultural despair. The truth about modernity reveals itself somewhere between these two extremes. Thus the historian should embrace the dynamic conservative-revolutionary tension that has shaped our institutions and worldview. It is the historic reality.

Again: In this essay there was no blanket dismissal of progressive scholars, no argument for some mythical golden age, no blind eye to the benefits of our nation's revolutionary heritage. The more I thought about it, the more I suspected that Tonsor was not just correcting conservatives in general, but rebutting Russell Kirk in particular. Kirk's Roots of American Order was also written in anticipation of America's bicentennial, having been published one year earlier, in 1974.[8] Without saying as much, Tonsor's essay amounted to an assault on Kirk's thesis.


Russell Kirk (1918-1994)
I must confess that the implicit attack on Kirk gave me mixed feelings. Tonsor had expressed deep admiration for Kirk in the 1950s. By the 1970s they had irreconcilable differences on the meaning of the American Revolution. 

I also had mixed feelings because The Roots was one of my favorite books, combing as it did the sands of ruins for the glories of Western civilization. It was the history of just that civilization that I wanted to teach. From my jejune perspective, Kirk's book was Whig history at its finest. Jerusalem, Athens, Rome, London -- all would have a salutary influence on the American founders. Kirk's world-historical view of America appealed to me. It was big. It was unapologetic. It was compellingly argued. And it was one of the reasons I wanted to pursue the formal study of history in a graduate school close to Russell Kirk. His home up in Mecosta, Michigan, was in the middle of the Lower Peninsula's stump country. After reading Tonsor's essay, Mecosta suddenly seemed a world apart from Ann Arbor. 

During the drive to Lincoln I did not get around to Tonsor's view of our sixteenth president and social revolution. There was not really enough material in the essay to answer that question. I did ponder the idea, expressed in a history seminar back at CSU, that the three Civil War amendments were both the cause and effect of significant changes in our way of thinking. The war started the process of transforming Americans' view of each other and their government. Thus serial social revolutions were not unthinkable after 1865.


V.

By the time the U-Haul was rolling into the parking lot of a cheap motel on the west side of Lincoln, I was asking myself: Was Tonsor the conservative people made him out to be? It would not trouble me if he were not conservative; intellectual integrity eschews party lines. What I liked about "The United States as a Revolutionary Society" was that it showed Tonsor's determination to steer clear of ideology. His goal was not to defend an -ism but to practice good history. His conservative bona fides notwithstanding, he did not trim his sails to please his right-wing friends at National Review. That was important to me. Given my need to please people, I was fortunate to have the role model I thought I had found in Stephen Tonsor.

I climbed down from the truck's cab, noticeably stiff and cranky. Lincoln felt oppressively humid, closed in by gray. I had been watching a blanket of stratus clouds unroll over the landscape for several hours. But it didn't matter. I had grown too dull and hungry and exhausted to think anymore.

__________

[1] Gleaves Whitney, Colorado Front Range: A Landscape Divided (Boulder: Johnson Books, 1983), p. 3.  

[2] Stephen J. Tonsor, "The United States as a Revolutionary Society," Modern Age (spring 1975): 136-45.

[3] Stephen Tonsor, along with Russell Kirk, was among the founders of the conservative Philadelphia Society, a professional association that formed during Republican nominee Barry Goldwater's star-crossed pursuit of the presidency in 1964. See http://phillysoc.org/. Tonsor delivered the third lecture at the first organizational meeting of the society. Also see http://phillysoc.org/tps_meetings/1964-organizing-meeting-in-indianapolis/. 

[4] Charles Beard and Mary Beard, Rise of American Civilization (p. 296); quoted by Tonsor, "Revolutionary Society," p. 137.

[5] Tonsor, "Revolutionary Society," p. 137; my emphasis in italics.

[6] Tonsor, "Revolutionary Society," p. 145.

[7] Ibid.

[8] See especially the two books by Russell Kirk with which I was familiar when I headed off to Ann Arbor in August 1987: The Roots of American Order (Malibu, CA: Pepperdine University Press, 1974); and The Conservative Mind: From Burke to Eliot, 7th ed. (Washington, DC: Regnery Gateway, 1986).

Monday, July 31, 2017

Tonsor: Introduction: Prologue and first encounter

At the start of a new academic year, I am inaugurating this series on the most critical phase of my education as a historian. Three decades ago I began graduate school in the history department at the University of Michigan. It turned out to be intellectual boot camp. This and subsequent posts are creative reconstructions of the many fascinating conversations I had with my graduate advisor. They are reimagined from my notes, his public essays and private letters, the articles and books that we read together, and interviews with people who knew him. I am grateful that I had the opportunity to learn a lot from Stephen Tonsor. He had a fierce intellect. Under his influence I learned not only about history, not only about his civilizational mission to confront modernity, but also about myself.

I.

Long's Peak from a meadow below Twin Sisters.
The old family cabin where I was spending the weekend was at an elevation of 10,000 feet. It stood astride a spur of the Storm Pass Trail that led hikers into Rocky Mountain National Park. I timed my stay to occur in late September because, at that time of year, Colorado delivers spectacular autumn days. Over the Continental Divide the sky was the fathomless blue of gothic stained glass. The aspen trees had turned into a shimmering luminescence, as though each were made of cascading yellow diamonds. In my 360-degree view from the long slab of granite in front of the cabin, I had a panoramic view of Long's Peak, Twin Sisters, and Estes Cone -- all cloudless and serene. Surely this day, September 27, 1986, I was witness to earth's greatest crescendo of yellow and blue.

That morning I set out on a short hike to a meadow frequented by elk. After taking some photographs of a fine bull, I returned to the cabin and split lodgepole pine logs into firewood to help my relatives prepare for the coming winter. The languid afternoon hours were cut short when the sun dropped behind the granite wall of Long's Peak, and the rapid cooling hastened my retreat inside to build up the fire I had banked that morning. My back muscles ached from swinging the axe, but my mind felt invigorated by the physical work.

II.

Aspen trees in late September
This particular Saturday evening was dedicated to something I had planned all week. Sitting by the fire, I took out the journals I'd thrown into my backpack -- old copies of Modern Age and Intercollegiate Review that a former English professor, Loy O. Banks, had given me. In 1984-1985, I had completed my Fulbright year in West Germany and had spent a summer in Oxford. Now it was time to consider graduate school in earnest. Was a historian out there who would be a good fit?

As the evening closed in, I felt the disconnect between the mountains and the monographs -- a gap between the enchantment of the setting and the chore of the articles. Was I really in the mood to focus on the task at hand? But as I slowly turned the pages and scanned for "great ideas," I was not disappointed. A number of writers seemed to embrace not just a scholarly but a civilizational mission. One passage in particular resonated. It was from 1958: 
The historian must look beyond facts to meaning, purpose, and direction. Meaning, purpose, and direction -- they are not apt to emerge in the parochial study of one culture, one civilization, or one religious tradition. It is only when the historian makes the comparative method the tool of his studies that he can move beyond the provinciality of national, class, and religious prejudice. The meaning of Western civilization emerges only when it is confronted by another civilization. It is in these dramatic historical confrontations that the meaning of culture, civilization, and religion emerges. It is in these confrontations, too, that cultures and civilizations are enriched and expanded. It is through this process that every period of crisis is a period of hope, that the periods of cultural dissolution can be, and frequently are, periods of great innovation and harbingers of a new cultural era. We have been grievously and justly broken, but if such eyes as mine are worthy to foresee the divine meaning, the divine purpose, then we have been broken only to be made one.
I read the passage a second time. My thought became suspended in the rarified atmosphere of a civilizational as well as a continental divide. The author was comfortable with contrast, paradox, and tension. Turning back to the top of the essay, I was keen to know who wrote this historical manifesto. His name was Stephen Tonsor.[1] When the piece was published, almost three decades earlier, Tonsor was a 34-year-old instructor at the University of Michigan. He described the transcendent purpose of civilization as ultimately a quest for truth, goodness, beauty, even love -- the qualities that most dignified and humanized Homo viator, man the pilgrim. Here was a historian who wrote with the conviction that a civilization, although existing in time, was actually the vestibule of eternity.

With Tonsor's essay in my hands, my mind strained to recall what I had written about truth, goodness, beauty, and love on a sheet of paper that I kept folded in my collection of Great Books back in Fort Collins. It had been prompted by a class in the philosophy of the ancient Greeks that I had taken with Dr. Jan Benson:
Truth is about being. It is knowing what really is.
Goodness is about doing. It is acting in a way that helps others and yourself thrive.
Beauty is about attracting. It is moving irresistibly toward good things. Think of how we gaze at a sunrise. Beauty thus serves to feed the soul as hunger serves to feed the body.
Love is about connecting. It is uniting our soul with what is true, good, and beautiful.
As the fire burned down and my energy waned, I picked up the journals at my feet. The photocopy of a manuscript had slipped out of one of them. Curious, I picked it up and saw that there was no author's name on the front page. But the title, "Conservative Pluralism," led me to a surprising and serendipitous find: 
"The summer of 1953 was an exciting summer. My wife and I and our two small children spent that summer, as we had spent the previous two summers, atop a 10,000 foot peak in the Sawtooth Mountains of central Idaho as employees of the Forest Service watching for forest fires. One cannot imagine isolation much more complete. And yet, in that isolation, we heard the echoes of the great events transpiring in the world below the serene altitude we inhabited....
"One day that summer I hiked four miles and four thousand feet down to the road to meet the ranger and pick up a month's accumulation of mail. My mentor, Joseph Ward Swain, a distinguished historian of antiquity, had clipped various articles and reviews which he thought might be of interest to me and had sent them on. Among those clippings and articles was a review which had appeared in the Sunday New York Times Book Review of May 17, 1953, of a book by a young historian at Michigan State University, Russell Kirk."[2] 
This manuscript, whose opening scene was a fire lookout on Ruffneck Peak, was written by Stephen Tonsor. Not just any manuscript but this manuscript fell to the floor at my feet. Was it coincidence? Fate? Providence? I could not know what it meant at the time. Yet September 27, 1986, would be my first encounter with the mind of Stephen Tonsor. And these two men, Stephen Tonsor and Russell Kirk, would soon cross my path and I would walk with them for a crowded hour. Indeed, they and the tension between them would be decisive in my intellectual formation over the next several years.

Stephen Tonsor on how he discovered Russell Kirk --
in the Rocky Mountains
_____________________

[1] Paraphrase of a passage from Stephen Tonsor's review of Christopher Dawson's book, The Dynamics of World History, in "History and the God of the Second Chance," Modern Age (spring 1958): 200-01.
[2] "Conservative Pluralism -- The Foundation and the Academy," typed manuscript. The manuscript itself is not dated, but Tonsor's letters to Henry Regnery on September 8, 1981 (p. 4) and September 25, 1981 (p. 1), referred to the lecture by title and event organizer, the "Presidents' Club," and indicated that the lecture would be delivered on September 25, 1981. Letters are courtesy of Alfred Regnery.

Sunday, November 13, 2016

Tonsor #15 -- Where Did Liberalism Go Wrong?

I.

During my five years in Ann Arbor, I awoke every weekday at one minute to six o'clock. The radio was set to come on with the start of the broadcast day at WUOM. Every morning began the same way, with an a cappella rendition of "The Yellow and Blue," Michigan's alma mater. Don't ask me how, but the song astonishingly combined a rousing beer-hall ballad with a haunting monastic chant. Years afterward I would fondly associate the alma mater with my routine of visiting Stephen Tonsor during morning office hours.

It was an Indian summer morning, soft and humid and gauzy, when I decided it was time to ask my graduate advisor where liberalism had gone wrong. On the bus ride from North Campus to Central Campus, I "filled my mind with the subject," as Tonsor liked to say. As an intellectual historian and cultural critic, he identified mostly with Tocqueville and Acton, giants among the liberal conservatives. That, I got. But I needed to untangle the knot in my head and understand where to draw the line between the "liberal conservatives" whom he liked[1] and the "liberalism" as an -ism that he did not. There was overlap to sort out, and I feared that I did not know enough to offer a "gritty stone" for us to have a good conversation. To be honest, I was hoping he would do all the talking. My hope was not disappointed.

Tonsor welcomed me with that expectant note of his and I sat down in the squeaky wooden chair. As he was putting papers away, I noticed for the first time how musty his office smelled, maybe because of the brief return of warm weather. It was redolent of the back rooms of the antiquarian book stores in Ann Arbor that I frequented. Once his papers were filed, he rotated his chair to face me. He was looking through his glasses with that Sphinx-like expression of his. His hands were on his knees. He breathed in little audible puffs.

II.

Since he did not like small talk, I got straight to the intellectual problem I was trying to sort out. "Professor Tonsor, when you speak of the liberal conservative who harnesses the spirit of liberty to the spirit of conservation, it sounds so -- appealing. I think I get it. But there is overlap between the spirit of liberty and liberalism, right? In your writings you've had harsh words for liberalism. So first, in your opinion, how do you draw the line between liberty and liberalism. And second, where did liberalism go wrong?"

Tonsor waggled his head and chuckled. "Do you mean, why did James Burnham call welfare-state liberalism 'the ideology of Western suicide'? Or do you mean: How did our liberal system devolve into the art of running the circus from the monkey cage?[2] Let us count the ways," he said, his eyes growing wider and his right hand gesturing toward the Diag as if that space were a convenient marker for the decline of the West.

"There's a lot of emotional incontinence you will encounter when discussing welfare-state liberalism, especially on a college campus like this one. Its defenders these days are not a happy lot.

"There is controversy over when welfare-state liberalism as an -ism first appeared in the U.S. Some of our friends in the South blame Abraham Lincoln for launching our national government on the path to social engineering. As the Civil War was drawing to a close, Lincoln signed the Freedman's Bureau into law to help the newly freed slaves. While it was geographically restricted and only lasted seven years, this new federal agency was unprecedented in its social reach and it inadvertently generated the script for our future welfare state. On behalf of former slaves who were now refugees throughout the South, it provided relief, dispensed medical care, established schools, and redistributed abandoned lands to the newly freed blacks. It passed from the scene during Reconstruction.

"Historians will argue over whether Lincoln's Freedman's Bureau was the first manifestation of welfare-state liberalism in American. But let's set that aside, because there is much less argument over the identification of progressivism with welfare-state liberalism. Indeed, it seems that welfare-state liberalism's political arc in the U.S. follows Marx's formula: History repeats itself, first as tragedy and second as farce. Progressivism was liberalism's first performance, in the years before and after the turn of the twentieth century. Franklin Roosevelt's New Deal was its more tragic second performance, in the 1930s. Finally the Kennedy and Johnson administrations were its third and most farcical performance of all, in the 1960s. That's when liberalism as an -ism began to unravel. JFK's make-believe Camelot turned out to be the campy preamble to the hell of Vietnam. And LBJ's Great Society revealed itself to be the reign of the most destructive vulgarian in American history. It was as though Johnson were afflicted with the Midas-touch -- turning everything he encountered not into gold but into garbage.[3]

III. 

"But I get ahead of myself. As you know, liberalism has a long, complex history that is not just restricted to its most recent American iteration in the current welfare state. To understand liberalism, one must know the deep, rich soil from which it sprang. And that leads us to explore the geographic and historic conditions of Europe at a very early time.

"One element has been the very geography of Europe, which consists of numerous peninsulas, islands, and mountain ranges that characterize the western extremity of the Eurasian land mass. In previous centuries when only rudimentary military and transportation technology were available, it was difficult for one ruler to establish one polity in a landscape that is so fractured. I am no geographic determinist, but I do believe that the landscape of western Eurasia set the physical stage for the formation of many competing polities, each jealous to preserve its own language, customs, and constitution. This multiplicity characterized Europe, and local sovereignty became the norm. Ancient Greece is a microcosm of what I mean. As Herodotus tells us, there were many hundreds of city-states established on the Balkan Peninsula and the many islands surrounding it. It encouraged seafaring, trade, and exploration to be sure, but also fierce independence to preserve one's local lifeways.

"Another element has been the various traditions of liberty that were instantiated in this fractured geography. Self-government developed organically, though in quite different ways, in ancient Athens, in the republic of ancient Rome, in Italian communes, in the charters of medieval towns, and in medieval England with its Magna Carta, Common Law, and Parliament.

"A third element that made liberalism possible was individualism. In world-historic perspective, our civilization's preoccupation with the individual stands out, in stark contrast to more traditional cultures where the emphasis is on the clan and the tribe; on the authority of the chief, and on cultures with an established peck order that rigidly ranks people by caste and status and keeps them there. Many places in the West evolved away from these traditional arrangements. Two factors were at work. On the one hand, our religious tradition is grounded in the sanctity of the individual who is in the Imago Dei. On the other hand, our humanist tradition celebrates the dignity and strength of the individual who might be modeled on Pericles, Alexander the Great, or Caesar Augustus -- take your pick from Plutarch's Lives of Noble Greeks and Romans. In medieval Europe, by the twelfth century, both these traditions became joined, and Christian humanists acquired the concepts, vocabulary, and symbols to explore what it meant to be an individual.[8]

"In its modern iteration, individualism is the political and social philosophy that emphasizes the moral worth of each human being. Protecting and promoting the freedom of the individual are taken to be a central task of the liberal project. But it was not always so. "Individualism" was originally a term of derision, a perjorative used by reactionaries against French Revolutionaries. To the European conservative, individualisme signified a social dissolution, anarchy, and the prioritizing of individual interests to the ruin of the community. Also in the nineteenth century, European philosophers developed the notion of solipsism or extreme egocentrism -- the notion that one's own existence is the only thing that can be known or that is real. Observing America in the 1830s, Tocqueville warned that individualism might well deplete the 'virtues of social life' in the new republic. Since individualism always holds this latent threat, it is problematic for liberalism. It is one source of unraveling.

"A fourth element that makes our civilization unique is its embrace of pluralism, its ability to absorb many different and even contradictory viewpoints within a common culture. The modern age has even tolerated the existence of competing sources of authority, first in Renaissance Italy (when pagan and Christian sources existed alongside each other), then during the Enlightenment (when secular reason existed alongside religious faith).

"The foundation for our pluralistic way of thinking was laid long ago. Its roots can be found in Hellenistic Palestine where Jew and Greek mixed; in pagan Rome and in Christian Rome; in roots that intertwined Mediterranean culture with Germanic culture beginning in the late classical period. For example, when the Romans abandoned Britain, the oral pagan culture of the Angles, Saxons, Jutes, and Danes came into contact with the Latin Christianity of the literate Romano-Britains and mixed. You see it in medieval Spain, when the Muslim element mixed with the Catholic element. Later, in the thirteenth century, you see it in Thomas Aquinas probing the truth as set out in the documents of more than a half-dozen cultures -- Hebrew, Hellenic, Hellenistic, Roman, Orthodox Christian, Islamic, and Western Christendom. Do you see the pattern? It's not either-or. It's both-and, both-and, both-and. Always additive. The West, you might say, has been intellectually promiscuous. This intellectual promiscuity is really quite remarkable and found nowhere else on the planet to the degree that it is found in our civilization. It's the basis of our studia humanitatis, our humanities. Once you grasp the intellectual pluralism at the root of our modern culture, you will begin to grasp the development of modernity and anticipate the problems it poses to liberalism.

"The -ism's intellectual arc is long, indeed. Leo Strauss argued that liberalism arose among the ancient Greeks, especially in Ionia. It was the freedom of thought which philosophers like Xenophanes claimed against the city. That is to say, it was the intellectuals seeking to free their minds from the common bonds of religion, morality, and tradition.[4] That formulation seems apt today, given the American experience with secular liberalism, which does not seem to be working."

IV.

"I date the beginning of the long decline in left-liberal ascendancy that gripped American intellectual and cultural life to an event in 1953. Although Stalin died in March of that year, and although the East Germans tried to throw off their Soviet masters in June of that year, I date the decline from May of 1953, with the publication of a book, by a Michigan man of letters, whose name was Russell Kirk. It was the appearance of The Conservative Mind that caused a shock wave to topple many of the givens in American intellectual life. It caused considerable consternation among liberals.[5] Someday I shall tell you about the curious way in which I came upon that landmark work -- at an elevation of 10,000 feet!

"What I should like to stress now is that, while political liberalism in the U.S. may have been in decline, philosophical and cultural liberalism was not. A single decision of the Warren or Berger court had to potency to undermine centuries of moral tradition.

"What kept American liberalism potent, especially on college campuses in the sixties, was the alliance between those suffering from a nostalgia for the gutter and the Marxists yearning for universal revolution. The alienated intellectuals of the Old Left and their liberal fellow travelers seemed quaint -- they appealed to idealistic youth. They built up a following on elite campuses like this one. The new adherents to the counterculture and the New Left were the able students of people such as Norman O. Brown and C. Wright Mills. Being bright students, they learned to gaze into the metaphysical and political voids their professors had opened up for them. The unreal, psychedelic politics of the age were mirrored by liberal youth stoned out of their minds by chemical and political elixers. All sense of inhibition and limitation was lost, and our campuses transmogrified into cloud-cuckoo-land."[6]

Shaking his head he gestured toward the infamous Diag to drive home his point. "Think of that degenerate, Chef Ra, and the Hash Bash he leads every April Fool's Day -- at high noon. So clever, that one."

Hash Bash on the Diag
I didn't know who the man was, but Tonsor's sarcasm in drawing out "C-h-e-f ... R-a" made me laugh. Apparently he had been a fixture at the Hash Bash since 1972.

Tonsor's next allusion, even if I didn't know what it meant, sounded interesting enough to write down. "I have somewhere said that the unraveling of American liberalism has been the Love-Death music of a dying age written, however, in the style of Offenbach rather than in the style of Wagner."[7]

V.

"But what historic forces made American liberalism unravel?" I persisted, eager to put the arc of liberalism's demise into a coherent narrative.

"Do you want the long version?" he asked.

"Yes" -- my mind was already on the qui vive.

"All right, then. Let's review the evidence of the spirit of liberty going back to the ancient world -- to the Hebrews fleeing Egypt for the Promised Land, and to Odysseus leaving Troy and journeying back to Ithaca. By early modern times, that same liberal spirit aimed to free human beings from certain kinds of oppression. This form of liberty approximates what Sir Isaiah Berlin called, in a famous essay published in 1958, 'negative liberty.' It can be summarized in the various freedom-from's you are familiar with:
  • from physical oppression -- curable disease, preventable hunger, material want, and the like --through capitalistic free markets; 
  • from unjust social customs and straitjacket restraints, through an open and upwardly mobile society;
  • from barriers to their talent and services and products in the marketplace.
  • from political injustice as did, in very different ways, the English, American, and early phase of the French revolutions did; 
  • from social conflict, by supplanting the religious zeal that arose in the Reformations with civic, secular, and materialistic aims on the Dutch model, as Jefferson and Madison proposed; 
  • from arbitrary aesthetic rules, seen in the avant-garde revolt against classicism;
  • from hidebound prejudices, recognizing that a diverse people such as the American nation will have a plurality of viewpoints; and 
  • from spiritual ignorance and restraint, by decentralizing ethical and spiritual authority even when it devolves to the most decentralized unit of all, the individual. 
"Also, historically, the liberal has wanted to free human beings to do certain things. This form of liberty roughly approximates what Berlin called 'positive liberty' and it includes a variety of freedom-to's:
  • to order their freedom as they see fit since as a people they are sovereign;
  • to be able to reproduce one's kind;
  • to be able to think and speak freely in the public square;
  • to elect representatives of their choosing and enjoy self-government under the rule of law;
  • to exercise the First Amendments freedoms -- of religion, the press, assembly, and petition;
  • to have access to an education that will develop their potential;
  • to be able to form and contribute to voluntary organizations in civil society;
  • to buy and sell and contract one's labor in the free marketplace;
  • to advance in an open society as far as their talents and energy and ambition will take them; and 
  • to enjoy and benefit from the proliferating variety of the human condition.
"Don't be fooled by the apparent seamlessness of these lists. As Berlin pointed out, 'negative' and 'positive' liberty can clash with one other in a pluralistic society. For example, if an individual wants to be free from the constraints of religion, how can his wish be reconciled within a community that feels it is free to assert the faith of a supermajority? These values clashed in the famous Supreme Court case, Engel v. Vitale, which was decided in 1962. Henceforward, government-directed prayer in public schools was seen as violating the Establishment Clause of the U.S. Constitution and therefore banned.

"Late-modern liberalism sometimes asserts negative liberty; sometimes positive liberty. Where it can err is when it takes a good thing -- in this case, the spirit of liberty that resides deep in man -- and disorders it. All modern -isms do that to some extent, of course, but since we live among the liberals, the speck in their eye is what irritates the beam in our own.



Unforgettable classroom teacher: Stephen Tonsor
"Now, you know from your Western civ survey that pluralism arose in the West as a result of many factors. To review:
  • The encounters with 'brave new worlds' -- starting with the Crusades and accelerating in the Age of Exploration -- exposed Europeans to unimagined novelties. Suddenly they found themselves amid exotic cultures, strange lifeways, and fantastic worldviews. Reports of the discoveries excited the imaginations of men, but they also acted like acids upon the culture -- corroding certainties, raising doubts, admitting skepticism, reinforcing relativism, and even suggesting the slide into subjectivism. As Shakespeare has Sebastian say in The Tempest, 'Now I will believe that there are unicorns.' The European could now look beyond his local horizon and see that his was not the only world, that the European lifeway was not the only lifeway available to man. Confronted by the proliferating variety of cultures, thinking Europeans began to ponder the human condition in radically different ways. Carried to the extreme, modern man would embrace the new for its own sake -- what Christopher Booker called 'neophilia.'[9]
  • Burckhardt identified the Italian Renaissance with a new birth of liberty and with the beginning of the modern age. One reason for this bold assertion is that, with the elevation of the Greco-Roman classics, two different sources of authority -- pagan and Catholic -- now coexisted. It is unusual to find a culture with two quite different cosmologies and quite different sources of intellectual, moral, and spiritual authority. In Christendom, these two different sources had often been integrated by clerics, men of letters working in the long tradition of Christian humanism. But sometimes the two sources were not integrated, and during the Renaissance it was a permissible boundary transgression not to do so. Thus the pagan classics would pose an indirect challenge to the dominant Catholic worldview, for now two different types of human excellence presented themselves -- the hero and the saint. This fundamental bifurcation in the view of human excellence also helped give birth to the new individualism which recognized that man had the freedom to choose in what measure he would be a pagan hero, and in what measure a Christian saint.[10]
  • In the Protestant Reformations, the principle of sola scriptura[11] spurred the growth of religious pluralism. It didn't mean to, but it was the unintended consequence. For once this Protestant principle was unleashed, there was no stopping the devolution of authority from one papacy ... to several countries ... to many regions ... to countless congregations ... to numberless individuals. Henceforward who had the authority to say whether my interpretation of scripture was better or worse than yours? Protestantism's inability to determine exactly what Christian orthodoxy was led to the proliferation of denominations in competition with one another. I am told that today there are several thousand Protestant denominations, each justifying its existence on the doctrine of sola scriptura. How ironic that the search for authentic Christianity would result in such chaos! Not surprisingly, this pluralism led to major religious conflicts from 1517 to 1648, wherein Protestants not only battled Catholics, but also one another, to the death. Imagine the ferocity with which Lutherans killed Anabaptists and vice versa. While religious pluralism came to be identified with spiritual fracture, moral anarchy, and Christendom's demise, it nevertheless led, in time, to liberal political settlements and to a chilly social tolerance; also to the emergence of materialistic, pluralistic, secular societies -- even if at the expense of true community. I am, of course, describing America.
  • During the course of the long Scientific Revolution, a series of paradigm shifts radically altered the West's vision away from a geocentric cosmos ordered in a great chain of being. Copernicus demolished Ptolemaic astronomy, Newton demolished Aristotelian physics, Darwin demolished the Mosaic chain of being, and Freud demolished Augustinian psychology. Henceforward, the sciences would become yet a third locus of authority, alongside the pagan classics of antiquity and Christianity's sacred scripture and tradition. But it was not an authority that relied on written texts. No, nature herself now provided the "texts." Science took nature as its sacred text and subjected the world to constant rereading and revision, based on observational methods. Nothing seemed stable anymore. In fact, it was posited that there was a plurality of realities, a plurality of worlds. In contrast to the medieval mind with its naive faith in one great chain of being, the modern mind confronted a dizzying succession of paradigms about reality -- from Newton to Einstein to Heisenberg to Bohr. No science texts were canonical; no thing was fixed; in philosophy becoming supplanted being; and relativism, the absolute. The very structure of the West's scientific revolutions seemed to confirm pluralism.[12]
  • As you know, it's the purpose of History 416 to understand the astonishingly rapid succession of worldviews that has developed -- from the Jesuits' disputatio to the secular Enlightenment, when the philosophes developed sophisticated arguments for variety in unity so long as the glue in that unity was reason. It did not take long before rationalism and empiricism were challenged by the counter-Enlightenment and Romanticism, which in turn were challenged by Positivism, and on and on it goes. So we intellectual historians can demonstrate quite convincingly that our modern age is a cacophony of -isms. Our civilization is quite promiscuous in its willingness to entertain new suitors. We should not be surprised that many of the offspring are less than beautiful --"
All of a sudden with startling rudeness Tonsor's desk phone rang, interrupting his remarkable soliloquy. It's the first time I saw him react to a phone ringing. His reddening face betrayed irritation, and he looked at the black contraption as though it were a mischievous jack-in-the-box. If the window had been open, I am sure he would have pitched the thing down onto the Diag below. To my surprise he ignored the ringing, sort of. While he wouldn't pick up the receiver, he couldn't resist going on a tear about what a nuisance the modern telephone is: "Before you arrived, I got a call from a swindler trying to sell me land in Arizona. I dislike arid climates intensely. Keeping plants alive with a little dab of water after the heat of the day has exhausted them is not my idea of a happy occupation.[13] As for the telephone, H. L. Mencken got it right when he said the telephone is the greatest boon to bores ever invented!" Tonsor drew out "b-o-o-n to b-o-r-e-s" for effect. He slapped his knees and rocked into his next sentence.

"I think I was speaking of the modern age as an age of promiscuity. Promiscuity, of course, is disordered love. What did liberalism disorder but the love of liberty?

"Again, we must distinguish between the spirit of liberty in man's nature and the -ism that grew out of the modern project. When liberalism arose as a modern ideology, it often took something good in the nature of man -- in this case, the spirit of freedom -- and disordered it. This tendency to disorder liberty has gone hand-in-hand with numerous intellectual errors.
  • One of liberalism's chief errors is its simple-minded attachment to the Enlightenment. Liberalism, you see, fancies that it has outgrown the Middle Ages and Christendom, which it regards as two sizes too small and quite out of fashion. It is this bias against Christendom and the Middle Ages that betrays the invincible ignorance of our liberal friends -- and their intolerance toward many of the religious roots of our civilization.
  • For instance, although modern liberalism is correct to recognize that our civilization is pluralistic, it is foolish to cast off our older philosophical and faith traditions that seek to order the things we value. Liberalism fancies itself to be value neutral -- it provides no way to order the goods in our lives. Yet a hierarchy of value is what we crave. Our nature is not made just to wander aimlessly from good to good to good. That is a false liberty that leads to anomie and despair. Rather it is our nature to seek out a map, search out a destination, and set a direction that we are confident will take us to a better place. How does the undiscriminating liberal, who breezily accepts a pluralistic world, discern what is better? Truly, when the liberal eschews Aristotle's final causes and dodges absolutes, he does violence to man's intelligence. The task is to find ways of ordering values that most people can accept.
  • Another example, this one along different lines. Liberalism often takes credit for the West's first constitutions. It is shockingly ignorant to assert that the modern constitution owes its origin to the Enlightenment. The roots of constitutional government go back to the Middle Ages. Magna Carta, the charter of English liberties, was actually the outcome of a conservative revolt among the barons to force King John to recognize their traditional rights as Englishmen. They were reasserting the root principle of Anglo-Saxon jurisprudence, that the monarch was as subject to the rule of law as all other men were. Also there were a number of medieval communes, little republics whose charters defended the liberties of free men. From your reading of the Federalist Papers, you know that the framers of the U.S. Constitution were familiar with these medieval Italian communes. Edmund Burke, Russell Kirk, and others have argued that the American Founding was in a significance sense a revolution prevented, not made, since the Founders were contending with London to restore their ancient rights as Englishmen.
  • Also many liberals assume that rights came out of the modern political tradition. Wrong again. Perhaps they have not read key medieval authors like Thomas Aquinas who wrote extensively on natural rights, or become familiar with groundbreaking documents like the Charter of the Forests, which was actually a conservative law in that it limited the king and restored his subjects' traditional access to woodlands for their livelihood.[14] Nor, apparently, have they heard of the right of asylum and the right of sanctuary, whereby any church afforded protection for combatants, refugees, and fugitives, especially in time of war.
  • You have heard me say that freedom is not freedom unless it is ordered. These apparent opposites -- freedom and order -- need one another to work. Sometimes our liberal friends forget the experience of the species. They embrace liberty without a proper regard for what it takes to sustain the freedoms we enjoy. The challenge every generation must face is how to keep liberty from devolving into private licentiousness and its cousin, social anarchy. An apprehension of the natural law, faith, morals -- these are the permanent things that are needed to help us order our lives so that we are fit to live with each other in relative peace. The order in the soul is conducive to the order in society, and vice versa. Value-neutral liberalism does not have a good answer to that.
  • Yet another intellectual error that liberals fall into is to forget that all modern free societies give rise to both a party of innovation and a party of conservation. Both-and. Each gives expression to the permanent things in human nature -- innovation which is the drive to better the human condition; and conservation which is the instinct to treasure what is good. We are motivated by both, and in a free society reform comes out of the perennial tension between these two oppositional drives. Innovation and conservation need each other because they correspond to the fact that each of us, individually, contains multitudes, so it is no surprise that society does, too. And yet, by the late 1940s and early 1950s -- after five terms of Franklin Roosevelt and Harry Truman -- the liberal elite in our nation grew smug and didn't think they needed a conservative intellectual movement to push against. It was liberalism's arrogance -- as witnessed in people like Lionel Trilling, Richard Hofstadter, Louis Hartz, and Arthur Schlesinger Jr. -- that it had no need for conservative ordering and restraint. 
Lord Acton instructs us otherwise: 'Don't let us utter too much evil of party writers, for we owe them much. If not honest, they are helpful, as the advocates aid the judge.'"[15]
At this observation I wrote a note to myself: For the most part in this conversation, I was witnessing Tonsor perform as a liberal conservative using his hermeneutic of dynamic tension. But in 1987, did he also advocate the need of conservatives for a robust liberal intellectual movement to push against?

"Now, to understand the genesis of this -ism, you might consult a liberal historian like Arthur M. Schlesinger, who wrote a brief history that explains what liberals are about." Tonsor got up, dug deep into a bookcase, and handed me a dusty paperback called The Vital Center. "It's not very good in its treatment of conservatism, which is confoundingly weak, but at least it takes you inside the riddles of the liberal mind around 1948, when liberalism reached its apogee."

Suddenly the phone rang again. Still standing, Tonsor picked up the receiver, slammed it back down, and impatiently shook he head as if he wanted to utter an expletive -- but I never knew him to utter expletives.

VI.

"Liberalism," Tonsor resumed with determination, "originally had the noble goal of protecting and promoting the freedom of the individual. The conundrum is this: Although government is necessary to protect individuals from being harmed by others, does government itself pose a threat to liberty? Lord Acton, for instance, saw the necessity of a system that gives government the power necessary to protect individual liberty but also prevents those who govern from abusing that power. Alas, liberalism has experienced mission creep. Over the decades it has transmogrified into a succession of grotesque caricatures of itself, each manifesting its own peculiar errors. Let's review them.
  • First came the old liberals who were devoted to -- liberty.[16] Their classical liberalism sought to protect the freedom of the individual. Originally it was associated with the French Physiocrats and Adam Smith in the eighteenth century. Once the idea caught hold, the laissez-faire marketplace revealed itself to be a huge improvement over the mercantile system it replaced, what with its extensive government controls and its assumption that wealth is a zero-sum game. In a mercantile economy, the only way to increase one's portion of a static pie is through colonization, exploitation, and war. Classical liberalism, by contrast, seeks to enlarge the pie by growing the economy. One cannot overstate what capitalism wrought: nothing less than the most revolutionary force in human history since the Neolithic Revolution.
Now, free-market economists have taught us valuable lessons -- that there is no such thing as a free lunch, that the profit motive works, that free trade spreads wealth. As I like to say, the free market does a better job fulfilling man's material wants than any other system -- by far. If people want more food, then the free market will provide. But what if they want more pornography? Well, their free market system will give them as much as they can stand. Of course, therein lies the danger. Classical liberals fall into error when they overlook, wink at, or excuse the abuse of liberty. Just because an action is legal does not make it moral. Freedom needs virtue. For freedom without virtue is no freedom at all. Rather we descend into the anarchy of the jungle where might makes right. 
The American and British experience with the free marketplace has for the most part been benign because it developed hand-in-hand with periodic great awakenings among the people. These religious revivals tempered our antisocial passions -- greed, selfishness, drunkenness, lust, ruthless ambition -- at the exact moments when our economy was growing faster than any in world history. The nexus of a growing economy and the great awakenings is one of the happy accidents of history. 
Classical liberals also fall into error when they assume that human beings are merely Homo economicus. I find myself bemused that so many of my free-market friends do not bother to read Book 5 of Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations. After hundreds of pages explaining and praising the free market in books 1-4, Smith in Book 5 warns against the tendency of the modern industrial economy to reduce men to cogs in a machine, thereby stripping them of their dignity. That's why he defends the role of government, public education, and other services to foster the creation of a humane economy. Wilhelm Rรถpke, in A Humane Economy, offers an important corrective to seeing man merely as Homo economicus. I have some experience with it. Back in 1948-'49, I lived in the Zurich he describes.
On a related note I should add that, since the early 1960s, I've thought that our education system must do a better job teaching young people that the for-profit sector has a huge impact on the health of the other two sectors, governmental and philanthropic. If the economy is strong, and the tax structure is good, then money will flow into the public treasury and into civil society. Government can then pay for its services without accruing debt, and philanthropic organizations can fulfill their mission to improve the human condition. Alas, it seems that entrepreneurs are almost always vilified by our education system. 
  • After classical liberalism came assertive state liberalism. (It has also been called 'moderate state intervention,' 'quantitative liberalism' by Arthur Schlesinger, and the 'social market economy' by the Germans.) We have already seen how the exigencies of the Civil War led to the creation of the Freedman's Bureau, which was one of the first manifestations of assertive state liberalism. But something else was at work, too, and it is not difficult to understand why this phase of liberalism began to replace the older classical liberalism that prevailed from the late eighteen century to the late nineteenth century. The effects of the Industrial Revolution hadn't been fully realized. Yet the Industrial Revolution grew spectacularly as a result of the laissez-faire marketplace, a marketplace that ironically did not seem up to the task of alleviating the suffering caused by its own growth. Even America's robust civil society seemed overwhelmed by the scale of the needs that arose in the periodic panics that occurred after the Civil War -- the depression of the 1890s and the Great Depression of the 1930s, foremost among them. 
No doubt about it: Industrialization and urbanization spread wealth and created an ever growing upper class and middle class. But they also, periodically, spread what the Marxists call immiseration. As the plight of the working classes pricked the conscience of the nation, usually during cyclical economic downturns, the ideology of progressivism arose. The rationale of progressivism was to counter big business with big government. The influence of Theodore Roosevelt, Herbert Croly, Woodrow Wilson, and a bevy of Muckrakers made Washington a more active player in the society and economy. The regulatory state with its alphabet agencies was established to protect workers and consumers. Interestingly, it corresponds to the administrative state that Tocqueville had prophesied would diminish Americans' freedom because no one elected all these new regulators to make the rules we would live by. A degree of social engineering also became a goal of assertive state liberalism. Progressive taxation transferred wealth from the rich to the poor, thereby achieving a modicum of economic leveling and establishing the welfare state. 
Already by the end of the nineteenth century, British and American liberalism were beginning to flirt with collectivism.[17] As a result of this flirtation, assertive state liberalism took a great leap forward in 1913 with the progressive income tax; then grew even more in FDR's New Deal, Truman's Fair Deal, and LBJ's Great Society. While transferring money from the rich to the poor may have made reformers feel better, it did not address a raft of underlying pathologies: the breakdown of the family, high dropout rates in schools, unwanted pregnancies, drug and alcohol abuse, the erosion of communities. Nor did assertive state liberalism anticipate the extent to which government would become its own self-serving Leviathan. What's wrong with that picture: government lobbying for itself? The consequences have been doleful. It's not just the deficits that mount when we expect too much of government and spend money like reckless teenagers on a spree using Dad's credit card. It's the cynical policy of throwing money at the underclass to keep them quiet. That's not true compassion. One of my former students, Marvin Olasky, who was formerly an atheist and Marxist, is doing important work that shows that civil society is much better than the government at delivering basic social services to those in need.
I should note that Franklin Roosevelt successfully renamed classical liberals -- those who opposed the New Deal regulations of the economy on behalf of the less fortunate -- "conservatives." Nineteenth-century liberalism thereby became identified with twentieth-century conservatism.
  • Shortly after assertive state liberalism arose, there also appeared aggressive state liberalism (or 'qualitative liberalism,' as Schlesinger calls it). Now government would not just be in the business of regulating industry to protect workers and consumers; not just in the business of transferring wealth from the rich and upper-middle classes to the working and poorer classes. Big government now justified its reach into the culture itself in order to instantiate progressive values. In the New Deal it involved the WPA art projects and writer projects. I have long thought that all the New Deal murals that went up on public buildings in the 1930s were an answer to the Confederate statues that were erected under the influence of the KKK in the 1920s. In any case, beginning with the Great Society it involved disseminating news and commentary on NPR and PBS, promulgating a liberal outlook among the populace; supporting the arts even when that art offended taxpayers; funding the humanities even when they furthered the elite's alienation from ordinary Americans; regulating our schools by mandating who got to go where, depending on their race and class and zip code; striking organized prayer in public schools; permitting abortion on demand. Some liberalism, this. The overreach has been breathtaking. Our Founders tried precisely to prevent a situation in which unelected federal judges could acquire the authority to transform the culture.
  • Now liberalism is entering a fourth phase, and that newly coined term, 'identity politics,' captures it best. It was inevitable that when liberal intellectuals and Democratic politicians from FDR to LBJ began to open up immigration, expand civil rights, and broaden the franchise, those who felt historically marginalized would demand greater inclusion in the American experiment. Identity politics is a coalition of diverse groups -- second- and third-wave feminists, homosexuals, the handicapped, Indians, Blacks, Latinos, and other non-white, non-European immigrants. This coalition is every bit as statist as previous generations of liberals. It seeks power to change the culture by fiat. Even my work has been influenced by the tam-tam of identity politics. Already by the early 1970s I was 'updating' the American dream and arguing for greater diversity in our universities.[18]
I think the primary driver of identity politics stems from America's original sin, black chattel slavery and its derivative, Jim Crow. Racism manifests itself in the enforcement of bigotry. It is the banal oppression of racial inequality everywhere in public and private life."
Tonsor suddenly reached for a paper on his desk and held it up to his eyes. Impatiently removing his glasses he squinted to read. The black English professor, Shelby Steele, has written something truly perceptive on the topic. I quote: 'Racism is a tyranny and an oppression that dehumanizes -- animalizes -- the "other." It is a social malignancy, yet it carries the authority of natural law, as if God Himself had dispassionately ordained it.... America finds itself in moral trouble,' Steele says. 'The open acknowledgement of the nation's racist past has seriously compromised its moral authority, and affirming democratic principles and the rule of law will not be a sufficient response. Only a strict moral accounting can restore legitimacy. Thus redemption -- paying off the nation's sins -- becomes the moral imperative of a new cultural and political liberalism. President Lyndon Johnson turned redemption into a kind of activism: the Great Society, the War on Poverty, school busing, liberalized welfare policies, affirmative action. This liberalism always projects moral idealism in the form of integration, social justice, and so on, which has the ring of redemption.What is political correctness if not essentially redemptive speech? So liberalism has become a cultural identity that offers Americans a way to think of themselves as a decent people. To be liberal is once again to be good.'[19]
Grand as redemption is, two challenges may eventually thwart identity politics. One is that each of these diverse groups has its own agenda. For example, the feminist agenda will not always square with the Black agenda (think of their differences over abortion), and the Black agenda will not always line up with the homosexual agenda (think of their differences when it comes to going outside established sexual norms). The Black church is one of the most conservative places in our culture. As each faction competes for limited public resources, there will be strain within the coalition. I predict that liberal America will become balkanized and possibly quite illiberal because it will have trouble articulating a vision of the common good. 
Second, identity politics will make whites more aware of threats to their power. As the liberal coalition grows, whites will embrace an identity politics of their own. We have seen some indication of this shift in Richard Nixon's Southern Strategy and in Ronald Reagan's electoral successes. Conservatives will have to remain vigilant in the process. William F. Buckley at National Review has done a fairly good job of policing the movement by keeping out the KKK, the Birchers, the Randians, and other kooks. There will always be silly and even dangerous camp followers just outside the main ranks. But my point here is: Those who rise by identity politics should be prepared to fall by identity politics.
The question I have about identity politics which remains to be answered is this: Is identity politics getting enough traction in the culture to constitute a third source of authority in the civilization? We've talked about how our civilization came to have two coexisting authorities in tension with one another -- Everyman's ethics and faith that come from classical Christendom, and our elites' science that comes from the modern Enlightenment. In our postmodern culture, one detects in identity politics the fevered canvass of non-Western cultures for a new source of values -- ideological, balkanized, neopagan, statist -- that will erode and eventually supplant both the Christian evangel and the Enlightenment project."
"It sounds like a book waiting to be written," I ventured. "Instead of Alvin Toffler's Third Wave, Stephen Tonsor's Third Authority."

"Not by me it wouldn't -- the very thought gives me a crushing headache that would send me to bed.

"Well, that's enough for today, Mr. Whitney," said Tonsor, slapping his knees. "There is a line of students waiting outside the door and they are in need of my ministrations."

Closing my looseleaf binder and thanking my graduate advisor for the grand tour of liberalism, I retreated to the warrens of Harlan Hatcher Library to reconstruct the conversation in my notes and further untangle the knot in my mind. It would now be easier to distinguish between the "liberal conservative" who ordered the spirit of liberty according to the permanent things, and the "liberalism" that increasingly sought to harness the state to engineer society. Listening to my professor, I realized that I was more liberal than he. I had seen Germany's social market economy with my own eyes, and it worked beautifully. As a result, the tutorial with Tonsor prompted tensions and still more questions. Foremost among them was this: As the meaning of liberalism shifted through its four phases, did the meaning of conservatism shift with it? For now, I was too spent to pursue the question.

________________________

Notes

[1] Tonsor alluded to himself as a "liberal conservative" in his letter to Henry Regnery, August 17, 1987, p. 2; in GW's possession, courtesy of Alfred Regnery.

[2] Quotation by H. L. Mencken, A Mencken Chrestomathy (1949).

[3] Stephen J. Tonsor, "Unraveling of American Liberalism," book review, but I do not yet have a date or publication data; Alfred Regnery kindly sent a photocopy of the review to me.

[4] Peter Augustine Lawler, "Liberalism," American Conservatism: An Encyclopedia, eds. Bruce Frohnen, Jeremy Beer, Jeffrey O. Nelson (Wilmington, DE: ISI Books, 2006), p. 496.

[5] Stephen J. Tonsor, "Conservative Pluralism: The Foundation and the Academy," pp. 1-2; unpublished, no date; lecture or manuscript in GW's possession, courtesy of Alfred Regnery.

[6] Tonsor, "Unraveling." Given the stereotypes of the sixties, and given Tonsor's own observations, it is easy to fall into the erroneous assumption that virtually everyone on college campuses was liberal or radical during that tumultuous decade. Yet Todd Gitlin -- a professor of journalism and sociology at Columbia University, a veteran of student protests in the 1960s, and the author of an important book on the period -- argues that the decade was not so much radical as it was polarized. Indeed, conservatives were strong on campus in the early part of the decade. "I was at Michigan for two years in '63 and '65, so I can tell you there was a very widespread right-wing movement." Gitlin quoted by Anemona Hartocollis, "On Campus, Trump Fans Say They Need 'Safe Spaces,'" New York Times, December 8, 2016; at URL http://www.nytimes.com/2016/12/08/us/politics/political-divide-on-campuses-hardens-after-trumps-victory.html?smid=fb-share

[7] Tonsor, "Unraveling."

[8] Tonsor recommended that his students read Colin Morris, The Discovery of the Individual, 1050-1200, 2nd ed. (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1987).

[9] Christopher Booker, The Neophiliacs, 1969.

[10] Tonsor was clear that, even though Jacob Burckhardt was often credited with seeing the rise of individualism during the Italian Renaissance especially, subsequent studies pushed the idea of individualism back several centuries. He cited Colin Morris, The Discovery of the Individual, 1050-1200, and Walter Ullmann, The Individual and Society in the Middle Ages. See Stephen J. Tonsor to Henry Regnery, May 19, 1986, p. 2; letter in GW's possession, courtesy of Alfred Regnery.

[11] Sola scriptura is Latin for "by Scripture alone." This Protestant theological doctrine holds that Christian Scriptures are the sole infallible rule of faith and practice. The problem comes when passages are interpreted and mean different things to different people.

[12] Thomas S. Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (1962).

[13] Stephen J. Tonsor to Henry Regnery, July 25, 1987, p. 4; letter in GW's possession, courtesy of Alfred Regnery.

[14] URL http://www.bl.uk/learning/timeline/item101341.html, accessed October 24, 2016.

[15] Stephen J. Tonsor, Foreword, Lectures on the French Revolution, by John Emerich Edward Dalberg-Acton (Indianapolis, IN: Liberty Fund, 2000), ebook ed., loc. 31.

[16] Russell Kirk, The Conservative Mind: From Burke to Eliot, 7th ed. (Washington, DC: Regnery Gateway, 1985), p. 185.

[17] Kirk, Conservative Mind, p. 185.

[18] Stephen J. Tonsor," Tradition and Reform in Education (La Salle, IL: Open Court, 1974).

[19] Shelby Steele would become a Hoover Fellow just a few years after this conversation with Tonsor. As a Hoover Fellow he wrote, "Why the Left Can't Let Go of Racism," Wall Street Journal, August 27, 2017, at URL https://www.wsj.com/amp/articles/why-the-left-cant-let-go-of-racism-1503868512.