Literacy Skills Lag Behind Literacy Rates

“The vast majority of people, perhaps 90 percent, know how to read, but do not exercise their intelligence beyond this.”
~ Jacques Ellul, Propaganda

The benefits and advantages to literacy are numerous, almost not needing to be mentioned in this literate society. Writing was invented in the Bronze Age. Legibility was what made larger, more complex societies possible because it was an important tool for centralized governance (James C. Scott, Seeing Like a State). It was first used for accounting and tax records. But even before the Bronze Age collapse, literacy was already taking a literary turn. This was also the birth of history, when people began recording important events and figures. Humans became self-conscious of being part of a civilization.

There was simultaneous development of ever more advanced calendrical systems. So, people could both perceive a past and predict a future. Humanity had more fully become a temporal creature. Contrast that to the entirely oral (ahistorical, non-calendrical, and innumerate) Piraha whose sense of time is amorphously present-oriented, more of a spatial perception. A vaster sense of time only became important with large-scale agriculture where key to survival was the planning of crops in order to maximize yields. Those yields weren’t only about the food itself but also in being taxable to support bureaucratic governments and standing armies.

It was only with the Axial Age that the twinklings of a literary tradition fully bloomed into the first literary cultures. This required the emergence of a literate elite who were dedicated to a text-based worldview. This was a revolutionary overturning of oral culture. Much was lost in the process. A literate mind inevitably lacks the prodigious memory skills of orality. Maintaining information, instead, is delegated to the written word. It goes way beyond this, though. Orality is about not only the spoken word but the living word, as part of a living world. Animism is the twin of orality. This is why many traditional mnemonic systems used geography (e.g., Australian Aboriginal Songlines). Knowledge was in the world, as was identity.

Literacy meant the destruction of the bundled mind and 4E cognition that had been the basis of human society presumably since humans first evolved. That archaic mentality hung on for a long time as literacy took hold, as it was a slow process. In much of the world, including Europe, even most of the ruling elite were illiterate until the late middle ages or early modernity. Of course, literary culture was influencing the illiterate as well as the literate. Religions of the book are an example of that, although they typically were the writing down of oral traditions. That is definitely true of Christianity that began as an oral religion, not having a holy text until the second century, with most Christians remaining illiterate until centuries after the transformation initiated by the Protestant Reformation.

In countries like the United States, full literacy among the population only happened with mass urbanization and mandatory public education. Before that, the average American had bare functional literacy in being able to read signs and write their own signature. So, keep in mind that we are barely into the experiment of mass literacy, following the final elimination of the last traces of the premodern oral tradition. So, yeah, it is quite the accomplishment getting humanity this far. The thing is that literary culture and literary education has not quite caught up yet. Most people who can read don’t actually do much reading, many of them still finding it difficult. One can get a high school degree in the U.S. with barely any skills of reading comprehension, textual analysis, critical thinking, and media literacy.

That is the dilemma of where we find ourselves. Modernity isn’t an end point but a transitional stage, or so we hope. So many of the problems of the past century are largely to be blamed on this semi-literate society. We’ve eliminated the cultural autonomy of oral cultures that could resist large-scale hegemonic forces, and in it’s place we’ve created a mass media system that can be more easily controlled and manipulated by centralized power. This has seen the rise of the most powerful ruling elite in history, consisting of a high number of social dominators (SDOs) and dark personalities (Machiavellians, narcissists, psychopaths, sadists); the very kind of people oral cultures tended to keep in check, by enforcement of social norms and other means.

The thing is most of us Westerners have now been far enough from rural life that orality is no longer part of living memory. We don’t appreciate what has been lost. There is a kind of egalitarian autonomy that is possible within orality, as seen with the aforementioned Piraha, that is no longer part of the modern literate mind. We are dominated by mass media and hence mediated reality. That wouldn’t necessarily be a problem if the population had intellectual defenses against rhetoric, apologetics, propaganda, and perception management. But the ruling elite have conveniently forgotten to include that as part of the education system; or should we say indoctrination system. Our mass literacy has made us even easier to manipulate. Yet literacy also offers the potential antidote to this poison.

The challenge is that the global population was just attaining a literate majority as new media was taking over. In many countries, the first generation of the literate had their attention being drawn away by radio, television, cable, video games, and internet. Literacy barely had a chance to take hold as a literary culture. This wasn’t entirely bad, as this media proliferation has meant media competition. There is no single mediated reality that dominates. But media literacy has not kept up with the media changes. Also, critical thinking skills, as part of the analytical mind, require high levels of literacy. That means spending large amounts of time dedicated to reading difficult texts and navigating across multiple texts.

Yet one suspects that, even in the highly literate West, the younger generations having declining literacy-related abilities. In interacting with the younger generations, one gets the sense that many have never learned how, for example, to skim and summarize a longer text. Anything beyond a few paragraphs bores and tires many of them, as they can’t as easily maintain attention span. Still, it’s hard to know that this is exactly a decline, since the older generations are fairly pathetic in their literary abilities. There is no generation, at least in the U.S., where a majority has fully engaged with literary culture. In some ways, the older generations are even more easily propagandized because their media literacy is vastly more limited. The point is the generations are vulnerable in different ways.

This past century has been mostly about raising the population level of intelligence. It’s been a shift from the concrete intelligence, more typical of oral culture, to the fluid intelligence that is only possible with literacy. But we haven’t quite figured out how to optimally use this fluid intelligence. Nonetheless, if not for that takeover of fluid intelligence, we wouldn’t now be at a point of a left-liberal majority. Probably every single major social, democratic, and civil rights advancement in recent history is at least partly explained by this change in mentality. Fluid intelligence, as a product of literacy and literary education, is what makes possible the more abstract thought that underpins universalist ideologies (e.g., liberal democracy). That is no small achievement, but we have a long ways to go. We are still in our intellectual infancy.

* * *

Propaganda: The Formation of Men’s Attitudes
by Jacques Ellul

“People used to think that learning to read evidenced human progress; they still celebrate the decline of illiteracy as a great victory; they condemn countries with a large proportion of illiterates; they think that reading is a road to freedom. All this is debatable, for the important thing is not to be able to read, but to understand what one reads, to reflect on and judge what one reads. Outside of that, reading has no meaning (and even destroys certain automatic qualities of memory and observation). But to talk about critical faculties and discernment is to talk about something far above primary education and to consider a very small minority. The vast majority of people, perhaps 90 percent, know how to read, but do not exercise their intelligence beyond this. They attribute authority and eminent value to the printed word, or, conversely, reject it altogether. As these people do not possess enough knowledge to reflect and discern, they believe—or disbelieve—in toto what they read. And as such people, moreover, will select the easiest, not the hardest, reading matter, they are precisely on the level at which the printed word can seize and convince them without opposition. They are perfectly adapted to propaganda.”

Educational Failure: Learning How to Learn, Thinking About How to Think

As indicated by our last post, one focus at the moment is on the education system. But we are always interested in education in a broader sense, in terms of an intelligent and informed citizenry. We were raised by parents who not only were college-educated but in teaching professions, one a speech pathologist in public schools and the other a professor in state colleges. From a young age, we had instilled in us curiosity, critical thinking, and a love of learning. And that has been reinforced by spending most of our life in a liberal college town.

Nonetheless, we are college dropouts and, because of a learning disability, never did well with conventional pedagogy. Most of our own learning has been informal self-education, as we’ve been highly motivated to do so, quite obsessive at times. By way of parents and cultural osmosis, we’ve picked up a lot about how to learn and how to think, more important than merely memorizing factoids. And besides, memory recall was always our weak point, causing us to compensate with other intellectual skills. Anyway, memory recall has become less relevant now that anyone can look up detailed info in an instant.

The point is that, all in all, we lack much in the way of the kind of formal knowledge that would be emphasized in the mainstream education system. For example, our math skills are pathetic and we have little technical grasp of statistics, which sadly just makes us normal Americans. Yet through intense self-study, we’ve picked up a strong grasp of reading comprehension, media literacy, and critical thinking. This has given us an intuitive sense of what is likely true or false. That is to say our bull shit detector is finely tuned. Also, we are able to pick up quickly on lingo and ideas, so as to be able to follow scholarly debates.

These are rare abilities, so it seems, or else the average person is intellectually lazy to an extreme degree, but even such intellectual laziness would often be learned from and modeled in the failed education system. We were reminded of this in having various discussions this week. In one particular Reddit discussion, the topic was United States data on drug overdose deaths, as mapped out with statewide data. West Virginia had by and far the worst rate, whereas South Dakota had the best. We made a comment about natural resource states usually measuring well on indicators of social health, largely because they tend to have stable and prosperous economies with low poverty and inequality. This is something we know from our past research, as we live in a natural resource state.

We’ve looked a lot at this kind of data, and our pattern recognition abilities have allowed us to correlate data in meaningful ways, giving us a general sense of what to expect. So, even when confronted by new data, we already have a framework for understanding what it might mean, what are the larger contexts (social, economic, historical, etc), and what are the likely causal and contributing factors. We have this basic familiarity that allows us to quickly ascertain the relevance and veracity of something, but combined with a curiosity to simply look something up to find out what is true.

Someone responded about this view not squaring with the supposed fact, as they suggested, that West Virginia is also a natural resource state, in its historical coal mining. Without having any specific knowledge about the coal industry, we instantly suspected this was a wrong assessment. We have enough breadth of knowledge to realize the larger conditions that have developed over generations. Coal mining in general has been in decline for a long time and what’s left of it employs few people, all of which we consider common knowledge. Why wasn’t this obvious to this other commenter? We can only presume they were responding to a media image, as portrayed in movies and shows, of West Virginia as a coal mining state.

Based on various readings we’ve done over the decades, we felt fairly confident that the coal industry, at this point, most probably represents a small part of the West Virginia economy. Call it an informed guesstimation. Then after doing a quick search, requiring about 30 seconds of effort, our assessment was confirmed. The top result in a web search showed that coal represents 4.8% of state earnings and 2.5% of employment. Because of decades of reading broadly on thousands of topics, we have a lot of background knowledge. For example, we once did a deep survey of Appalachian economics and social problems, as part of an exploration in determining if white poverty really is any different from black poverty (it’s not).

Here is another example from the same discussion. Someone else brought up Native American reservations in South Dakota. They argued such places would have higher drug overdose death rates. There is little doubt about that, whether or not it’s all that much higher. But how is that significant and relevant? There would be specific areas of concentrated drug-related deaths in nearly every state. Why pick on impoverished minorities? It’s not clear that this was dog whistle politics, though it had that feeling about it. Once again, a purely intuitive sense told us that reservations, in being relatively smaller populations, are unlikely to have much impact on statewide data. Indeed, Native Americans, both on and off reservations, are only 8.57% of South Dakota residents.

A similar kind of thing comes up with the right-wing moral panic, scapegoating, and explicit dog whistles of using ‘Chicago’ as a proxy for ‘blacks’. Every time there is some shooting incident or a brief uptick of deaths in Chicago, all of the right-wing media obsesses over it, often along with much of supposed ‘liberal’ corporate media. Yet, as we know, Chicago’s rate of violent crime tends to hew closely to the national average of big cities. It occasionally goes up a bit, but at other times it goes down. Besides, we also know that rural areas actually have higher per capita violent crime rates. It’s a basic level of statistical analysis to comprehend that larger populations, even with lower per capita rates, will have higher overall numbers.

But this most basic level of intellectuality evades even many highly educated people. For the most part, we are statistically ignorant and yet we understand some basic statistical concepts. So, we have enough media literacy to know when to realize data is being spun as a narrative, is being used to deceive and mislead. Most Americans apparently, in lacking intellectual and ideological self-defense, are vulnerable to such propaganda campaigns. The corporate media repeats the name ‘Chicago’ so much that it takes on an importance in political and public imagination far beyond it’s importance as seen in actual data. But why are most people so incurious as to research the data for themselves?

Most of this kind of analysis seems like common sense and it’s relatively easy to do, but it can help to have a diverse familiarity with all kinds of background knowledge, to realize something is off and what it might be, in order to know what to interrogate. It’s interesting that so many people are inadequate in what used to be idealized as a liberal arts education, in knowing a little bit about a lot of things. As an autodidactic dilettante, we’ve probably ended up with more of a liberal arts education than most people with a college education, as colleges these days are mostly designed to spit out professional workers with a narrow range of abilities, not informed and critical thinking citizens and leaders.

The problem here isn’t only about the formal education system, not even whether it’s well funded or not. We know some older people lacking in such critical thinking skills who attended college in the post-war period during the height of public education funding, when higher education was practically free to the public and sometimes was entirely free to state residents. Those same people will complain about the decline of education while not seeing the deficiencies in their own education. There is a certain set of skills that aren’t being taught to most U.S. citizens, at any level of education, and it’s far from a new problem. Few of us are learning how to learn, much less how to think for ourselves.

Here is the deeper problem. One suspects that most Americans don’t realize how uneducated and miseducated they are, similar to how they don’t likely grasp their state of historical amnesia. Even ignoring the disinfo and spin, the average person surely doesn’t like to think of themselves as one of the ill-educated victims of the education system. It’s only those other inferior people who are gullible ignoramuses. For whatever reason, we’ve always been more open to acknowledging and admitting our own ignorance, as we see it as the starting point of knowledge. It’s not a point of shame, just a reminder of how much there is to learn.

Yet in our experience, the more educated someone is the less likely they are to admit to the deficiencies in their education (i.e., smart idiot effect). That is understandable, after having invested so much time and money into their own higher education, which in our society confers respectability and status, an outward achievement that is meant to prove that one is above average or somehow basically worthy. After all, what is being described above is a rather demoralizing conclusion about the state of American education. But without talking about it, specifically in how it affects us personally, how are we to seek education reform? And in the meantime, if we don’t know what we lack, how are we to seek improvement through self-education?

Historical Amnesia on Abortion in the United States

American History, from Abortion Access to Abortion Bans

“[A]t the time of the adoption of our Constitution, and throughout the majority of the 19th century, abortion was viewed with less disfavor than under most American statutes currently in effect. Phrasing it another way, a woman enjoyed a substantially broader right to terminate a pregnancy than she does in most States today.”
~Justice Harry A. Blackmun, majority opinion in Roe v. Wade (1973)

“In this week’s leaked draft of a Supreme Court opinion overturning Roe v. Wade, Justice Samuel Alito wrote, “The inescapable conclusion is that a right to abortion is not deeply rooted in the Nation’s history and traditions.” Yet abortion was so “deeply rooted” in colonial America that one of our nation’s most influential architects went out of his way to insert it into the most widely and enduringly read and reprinted math textbook of the colonial Americas—and he received so little pushback or outcry for the inclusion that historians have barely noticed it is there. Abortion was simply a part of life, as much as reading, writing, and arithmetic.”
~Molly Farrell, Ben Franklin Put an Abortion Recipe in His Math Textbook

“It is telling that [Justice Samuel Alito’s] “examination” of history cited examples from the 17th and 19th centuries, when the Constitution, itself, was a product of the 18th century. At the time of the Founding, “in the early republic, abortion was largely a private matter. It was not a cause for public concern, nor was abortion a criminal act” (Poggi & Kierner, 2022). In a sensational case from the era, neither Thomas Jefferson, John Marshall, nor Patrick Henry advocated prosecution for a woman who very likely had had ann abortion. The case involved a trial for the murder of a newborn, but it became clear that the body was from an abortion. Therefore, it did not result from the murder of an infant, and thus there was nothing to prosecute (Poggi & Kierner, 2022).”
~Max J. Skidmore, Abortion–Reactionary Theocracy rises in America, while declining elsewhere

For most of Christian history, a widespread conventional or even orthodox position on abortions was that it was acceptable until ‘quickening’ when the mother could feel the baby moving, a period that extends into the second trimester, about 16 to 20 weeks. It was commonly believed that this was when the soul entered the baby, but some held out soulfulness until after birth. So many died as infants and toddlers that it was maybe easier to think they didn’t have souls to suffer or, if not saved (e.g., baptized), to be damned. Life was perceived differently in the past. Besides that, when a soul enters the body is a separate matter from the starting point of life (Larry Poston, When Does Human Life Begin? Conception and Ensoulment).

The idea that life begins, with a simultaneous ensoulment, at conception came to dominance in the modern West through the bias of a scientific worldview. But the confusion is that modern fundamentalism is, well, a product of modernity and so has internalized scientific thought and language (e.g., pseudo-scientific Creationism) while anachronistically projecting it onto the past (Karen Armstrong). In many traditions, going back to the ancient world, a child didn’t become fully ensouled, fully human, and/or fully part of family and society until weeks or years after birth, sometimes after milestones like teething and eating solid foods or later with walking and talking (Facts and Details, Children In Ancient Rome). This relates to why newborn infants, into the early modern period, sometimes weren’t named. Speculation is that parents, from trauma of constant death, were resistant to becoming too attached.

On top of that, many mothers died in childbirth. Unless a family was in need of and could afford more children, it made no sense for a mother to risk her life, especially when she had other children to take care of. In early American history, from the colonial period to the early national period, abortion was treated as a private matter, and legal under all governments. It was a non-issue, not only in terms of the legal system and politics but also in terms of the larger society and religion. Benjamin Franklin, for example, published a popular book teaching Americans about safe and effective abortifacients, with no pushback from a religious right claiming “baby murder.” Nor were abortion practitioners targeted with violence and assassination, as has repeatedly happened in recent decades.

There wouldn’t begin to be something akin to a recognizable nation-wide culture war until the mid-19th century. There were many reasons for that. Urbanization and industrialization was becoming noticeable. This created a larger professional middle class, precipitating an increasing number of women seeking education and employment. It also coincided with a market for commercial products and bourgeois ideas. In the decades before the American Civil War, there were newly available vaginal sponges, vulcanized rubbers, and public seminars on sexual education. Simultaneously, the abortion rate rose to one in five pregnancies, eventually bringing on a reactionary right-wing backlash of moral panic following the war, from WASP replacement fears to Comstock laws. It was about how to save the WASP patriarchy, not how to save lives, babies or otherwise. Abortion, at the time and heading into the next century, was still relatively minor compared to broader fears about sexuality and gender (The Crisis of Identity).

The original reason for abortion bans had less to do with the definition of life, much less theological sophistry over ensoulment, and more about paternalistic control by shutting down the self-determination of sexual reproduction by women, both pregnant women themselves and the once common midwives (Denying the Agency of the Subordinate Class). Early on, women were rarely the direct target of legal prosecutions over abortion because the onus of responsibility was placed upon doctors, the male authority figures. But many doctors continued to practice abortions, as they always had. As had been the case in earlier times, it remained a private matter but now under the discretion of doctors and their patients. On this and many other issues, doctors acted according to local community standards, not governmental decrees handed out by distant political elites.

As such, though the first abortion bans were made by the growing power of state governments, there was little enforcement of them; partly because there was still a strong Anti-Federalist culture carried over from the past. It was left mostly to the decision of local communities, specifically doctors and law enforcement, but also ministers and priests who often followed their own consciences than official church authorities. Heeding local norms and practices, most Americans at the time still supported abortions, in that they continued to seek them out, especially with mass urbanization at the turn of the 20th century when large farm families were no longer needed. It was an open secret which doctors offered abortions. Whatever individuals may have thought of it, most took it as a necessary option. But the reality is that probably few, other than the small minority of Catholics, gave it much thought at all. That is how it was treated at the time, a Catholic issue having nothing to do with good Protestants, and even the Catholic Church didn’t say much about the issue until recent history (Matthew Rozsa, The Christian right didn’t used to care about abortion — until they did).

In the late 1800s to early 1900s, my great great great grandfather William Alfred Line was a country doctor in Southern Indiana, a conservative areas that is known as Kentuckiana. As had become common elsewhere as time went on, the state at the time had an abortion ban and yet he provided abortions for decades apparently without any legal problems. So many people supported such doctors because they wanted and needed safe abortions. It was a practical matter. One of Dr. Line’s own daughters, in not wanting to go to him for an abortion, attempted to do so on herself and died. Botched abortions, particularly when done by non-professionals, were a leading cause of death before improved medical procedures. The consequence of  cruel and unnecessary death was a major moral concern at the time and helped promote demand for reforms in the following period.

* * *

Within a Single Generation, from Progressive Early Life to Reactionary Older Age

“A theology emerged that said personal responsibility over one’s reproduction was what we might call a sacrament. That’s not quite the right word, but it was a moral and ethical choice and responsibility that shouldn’t be legislated by the state vis-a-vis Catholic ideas.”
~Gillian Frank, interview

“The Bible definitely pinpoints a difference in the value of a fetus and an adult. Thus, the Bible would appear to disagree with the official Catholic view that the tiniest fetus is as important as an adult human being.”
~ (1967)

“God does not regard the fetus as a soul, no matter how far gestation has progressed. The Law plainly exacts: ‘If a man kills any human life he will be put to death’ (Lev. 24:17). But according to Exodus 21:22–24, the destruction of the fetus is not a capital offense… Clearly, then, in contrast to the mother, the fetus is not reckoned as a soul.”
~Bruce Waltke, Dallas Theological Seminary professor, (1968)

“I have always felt that it was only after a child was born and had a life separate from its mother that it became an individual person, and it has always, therefore, seemed to me that what is best for the mother and for the future should be allowed.”
~Rev. W. A. Criswell, fundamentalist Baptist pastor, former president of the Southern Baptist Convention (1973)

“In short, if the state laws are now made to conform to the Supreme Court ruling, the decision to obtain an abortion or to bring pregnancy to full term can now be a matter of conscience and deliberate choice rather than one compelled by law. Religious liberty, human equality and justice are advanced by the Supreme Court abortion decision.”
~Baptist Press, News Service of the Southern Baptist Convention (1973)

The centuries-old American tradition of abortion access and the millennia-old tradition before that, as a private decision of religious conscience, has been largely forgotten. Yet such a world is precisely what the oldest generations knew in their own early lives, in many cases into adulthood or even middle age. Historical amnesia is built on personal and generational amnesia. Consider the Silent Generation, a birth cohort that is supposedly moderate, conservative, and traditionalist; specifically with relatively higher rates of conventional religiosity. But they were also culture warriors on both sides, from feminist Gloria Steinem to religious right leader Paul Weyrich, including many radically leftist Christians like Martin Luther King Jr. (The Un-Silent Generation). They came of age during the moral loosening of the post-war period, precisely when medicalization of abortion was making it safer and more common — even with bans, there were many legal exemptions, for both physical and mental health, although these exemptions were more easily gained by those with the means to seek out the right doctors, as there is always an element of class war in how punitive laws mostly target the poor.

In general, numerous Silents were on the frontlines of change, many reacting to their own oppressive childhoods, but most of them probably didn’t see this as in contradiction to their Christian upbringings, as Liberationist theology began to take hold. There was a general desire to break free and let loose, once they were into adulthood, including but not limited to the personal level: “For the Silent Generation, then hitting midlife, the cultural upheaval of the 1970s meant liberation from youthful conformism, a now-or-never passage away from marriages made too young and careers chosen too early” (Neil Howe & William Strauss, The New Generation Gap). From the 1950s to the 1970s, Silents were among the most famous leaders, activists, reformers, advocates, and practitioners of: civil rights, women’s rights, LGBTQ rights, anti-nuke, anti-war, childrearing, education, psychedelics, psychotherapy, etc; but also influential in avant-garde art and Rock n’ Roll. Likewise, a significant number were involved in the movement to legalize and make accessible safe abortions. That generation went in various directions, if so many of the radical leftists, Christians and otherwise, of that era were silenced by the voices on the reactionary right that drowned them out with corporate media megaphones.

Though having become one of the most politically split generations, with about half opposing abortion and about half either supporting or unsure (Gabrielle M. Etzel, A year after, public opinion steady on overturning Roe), they once took pivotal action in the movement to gain sexual freedom: same sex marriages, planned parenthood clinics, birth control availability, access to safe abortions, etc. Some of them went so far as to participate in the emerging Swinger culture of suburbia, before any hippies spoke of free love. These weren’t fights over abstract ideology but personal and social struggles for freedoms, rights, and safety; and often driven by a profound sense of moral purpose, sometimes explicitly religious. It’s ironic that maybe it was the Silent’s notorious focus on safety, like security a moral issue, that motivated them to seek liberation from oppressive and dangerous ideological systems, such as abortion bans that sometimes caused maiming, sickness, sterility, and death; particularly harming the already oppressed and disenfranchised, ya know those Jesus was always ranting about. They were literally fighting for their lives, with many ministers and priests as their allies (interview of Gillian Frank by John Stoehr, A religious movement, arising from conditions that were killing women, helped give birth to Roe).

In fact, during the ‘conservative’ 1950s of the Silents’ young and early adulthood, one in four women had an abortion (Joyce Johnson, My Abortion War Story), which is unsurprising as half of Silents had sex in their teens, one in ten by the age of 16 (Rates of Young Sluts), with almost twice as many sexual partners as the GI Generation (Randy Dotinga, Millennials More Tolerant, Less Promiscuous Than Their Parents). They are of the last generation to remember the bad ol’ days of abortion bans. If they didn’t have an abortion, then they would’ve personally known many others who did. And they would’ve known the fears and shame that went with it. “My mother endured a back-room abortion in the 1930s. I promised her that I would fight to keep abortion legal,” wrote Jill Goodwin. It was front and center for women of that era, but men also faced these dark realities of unwanted pregnancies, as boyfriends, husbands, and fathers (Robert Lipsyte, Where Are the Men?).

Yet now in old age, many Silents have forgotten the role their generation played; or else the corporate media and political elites would prefer they forget by rewriting history. Our own parents are last wave Silents, born in 1942 and 1945. It’s from our mother, in talking about family stories, that we learned of our own ancestral link to medical abortion practice. Years ago, our father told us about how, in their early marriage during the ’60s and ’70s, our mother was pro-choice, as were most Americans in that era before the Reagan Revolution backed by the right-wing Shadow Network. In fact, most Republicans and most Evangelicals were pro-choice as well. Some major religious right leaders openly spoke up in favor of abortion, partly because of bigotry toward anti-choice Catholics. The wife of President Dwight Eisenhower helped start Planned Parenthood in Texas. As part of a larger sociocultural shift, our own Silent parents were in lockstep with other Silents and other Americans. Then after decades of right-wing media exposure while living in the Deep South, our mother slurs pro-choice supporters as “baby-killers” while our father rants about “postmodern Marxists.”

Our father, at the time of telling us about our mother’s former pro-choice stance, recommended that we not speak of it with her. The reason he gave is that she’d get angry and deny it. She probably had quite honestly forgotten all about it, since maybe 40 to 50 years had passed since her ideological realignment. Back all those decades ago, our father was also more socially liberal, at a time when he was agnostic, our family attended liberal gay-marrying churches, and he was subscribed to Playboy. He said that he used to be neutral or indifferent about the abortion issue. We brought all of this up again these past few years and now he doesn’t remember any of it either, presently believing that they’ve always been strident religious right-wingers on culture war issues. Nor does he remember that our mother’s great great grandfather was an abortion doctor, even though our family had talked about it this past decade, on numerous occasions, while doing genealogy research and visiting the Line’s homestead.

One might suspect that our parents are typical of their generation. They may be more reactionary right in their old age, but they were surprisingly socially liberal in their younger age. Yet, in earlier life, they likely identified as ‘conservatives’, at a time when Republicans were pro-life, taxes on the rich were high, and social democracy was considered the norm (The American Utopia of Social Democracy). To have been socially liberal, or even economically liberal, back then wasn’t necessarily considered extremist or maybe even ‘liberal’, per se. Our parents grew up during Eisenhower Republicanism, and Eisenhower stated that liberalism was the proper way to run a government. So, without needing to be stated, a basic liberal attitude was considered the default for public life. That is to say many positions that today would be called ‘leftist’ used to be within the range of the moderate center of majority consensus. Pro-choice is one of these positions, but an important one, since the religious right took up anti-choice as a proxy for racism when they discovered they couldn’t continue to organize around racial segregation. Procreative rights were always tied up into social control of minorities, and so it was a natural fit in resonating deeply with an old reactionary worldview.

We don’t mean to pick on only one generation. The Silent Generation is merely a useful example, as the oldest living generation still in political power (The Dying Donkey) and holding the greatest wealth. But the same pattern, if less extreme, is seen in the other generations. Of course, the memory loss admittedly began with the GI Generation (e.g., Ronald Reagan, originally an FDR Progressive), but they are mostly dead at this point and the few remaining likely senile or otherwise out of public circulation (e.g., Reagan literally showed signs of early onset dementia while still president). Here is the point. This mass ignorance, by way of collective amnesia, was intentionally constructed and enforced through historical revisionism — for example, see Steve Bannon’s Boomer scapegoating in his pseudo-documentary “Generation Zero” (A Generation to End All Generations). Ironically, Bannon is a Boomer, not that he cares in his cynical realpolitik. Jeez, just leave Boomers alone, they can’t carry the load of all of society’s failures (Kevin Drum, Don’t Blame Boomers, Blame Their Parents). Reactionary demagogues using fear to target the elderly for votes or whatever is no different than the conman who calls your lonely grandmother to steal her money (Jen Senko, The Brainwashing Of My Dad; documentary and book). All they see are vulnerable marks.

Without a doubt, this tactic of erasure has been effective, despite the fact that all of these events are within living memory for older generations, and there is no American who isn’t old enough that they should personally remember nor has someone in their life who is old enough. Besides, older or not, there are approximately a million books, articles, scholarly papers, interviews, blog posts, videos, and (real) documentaries that are available a click away on the internet for anyone to find. It’s not for a lack of information, quite the opposite; and, sadly, sometimes it’s in a plethora of facts that truth gets buried. Ask most Americans of almost any generation and they won’t know about these basic facts of American history, much less the picture of truth they form. The mainstream narrative, as everyone ‘knows’, is that abortion was always illegal and considered morally wrong, that the right-wing culture wars were an expected and maybe justified backlash against the activist left that, starting in the ’60s, attacked and undermined the religious right that, for centuries, had dominated not only government but all of society and public opinion. It’s a compelling story that even many leftists, unfortunately, have embraced.

* * *

The Silent Majority was Leftist, the American Public was Silenced

“In 1970, a Baptist View poll showed that while 80 per cent of Southern Baptist pastors opposed ‘abortion on demand’, 70 per cent favored allowing abortion to protect the physical or mental health of a woman, and 64 per cent thought that state laws should permit abortion in cases of fetal deformity. 71 per cent had no objection to abortion in cases of rape and incest.”
~Daniel K. Williams, God’s Own Party

“In 1972 in a study by William Ray Arney and William H. Trescher, surveying the general American public shortly before the Roe decision was released, abortion was seen to be acceptable by 83% of respondents if it was necessary to preserve the mother’s health, by 46% of respondents if needed for economic reasons, and by 38% of respondents if the person wanted no more children. These numbers jumped to 91%, 82% and 46% in a survey taken about one year later in 1973, two months after Roe had been decided. These remarkably high numbers show the odds pro-life organizers were up against.”
~Rose Elizabeth Galik Miller, Organizing After the 8th: Comparing and Contrasting the Catholic Irish ProLife Movement and Its American Counterpart

“In the summer before Roe, a newspaper column about a new Gallup poll preserved in Justice Blackmun’s case file reported that sixty-four percent of Americans (and fifty-six percent of Catholics) agreed “with the statement that ‘the decision to have an abortion should be made solely by a woman and her physician”‘ -with “a greater proportion of Republicans (68 per cent) …than Democrats (59 per cent) holding the belief that abortion should be a decision between a woman and her physician.”” Consistent with these findings, Roe was an opinion written and supported by Justices whom a Republican president had recently appointed.” Indeed, it was at the urging of one of Richard Nixon’s most recent appointees, Justice Lewis F. Powell, Jr., that the seven-Justice majority in Roe extended constitutional protection from the first to the second trimester of pregnancy, until the point of fetal viability.” To say the least, these legal-political alignments invert contemporary expectations, in Alice-in-Wonderland fashion.”
~Linda Greenhouse & Reva B. Siegel, Before (and After) Roe v. Wade: New Questions About Backlash

The Silent Paul Weyrich, possibly the most influential and powerful religious right leader in US history, was one of the earlier Catholics who, from behind the scenes, maneuvered the largely Protestant conservative movement toward anti-choice. Though rarely acting as a front man, as were the famous Evangelical leaders, he didn’t entirely hide from public view. He gave occasional speeches and interviews, if mostly directed to a narrow segment of society, sometimes being openly honest in a way we’ve grown unaccustomed to, at least not until the bluntness of Donald Trump. He made two admissions that are damning. First, he admitted that the religious right initially attempted to organize around racism, specifically segregated Bible schools because most of the money flowing to the far right came from wealthy racists wanting to send their children to private colleges that were Christian, conservative, and all-white. The problem, as Weyrich explained, is that the average conservative had little interest in overtly siding with racism.

Getting money to pay for political operations and an influence machine, Weyrich was good at that with his crony connections (e.g., Joseph Coors), but he wanted more, he wanted a social and political movement. That meant they needed to organize around something else that could act as a proxy for racism. Though the Southern Baptist Convention was still offering qualified support of abortion 6 years after Roe v. Wade, right up to the year before the 1980 election of Ronald Reagan, abortion eventually was understood to fit perfectly because, as already mentioned, it had for generations been part of the white supremacist narrative and the eugenicist agenda (Susan M. Shaw, The history of Southern Baptists shows they have not always opposed abortion; & Randall Balmer, The Real Origins of the Religious Right). This was seen with the WASP or white replacement theory, the fear that the right kind of people would be replaced by the wrong kind. Specifically, the fear was that white women, especially WASP women, weren’t having enough kids while all other demographics were having too many. But in reality, it was not so much about losing numbers, in that Anglo-American Protestants had always been a minority going back to the colonial era, as it was about losing dominant power in controlling government and public institutions (e.g., mandatory public education used to weaken private Catholic schools). Protestants in the past embraced abortion, in opposition to the Vatican’s official position.

The religious right of previous generations, such as the Second Klan, was primarily afraid of big Catholic families pumping out litters of kids like perceived dirty beasts and vermin overrunning society and spreading disease and moral pollution, more afraid than they were of blacks who at least were American-born Protestants. And that is saying lot, considering the Ku Klux Klan originally organized around anti-black bigotry. Originally, this xenophobia was mostly directed at ethnic immigrants, the so-called “hyphenated Americans” (Italian-Americans, Irish-Americans, German-Americans, Mexican-Americans, etc), as such ethnic immigrants were disproportionately Catholic. That anti-Catholicism was still the main motivating fear well into the early post-war era, but had begun to change with the election of John F. Kennedy, a Catholic of Irish descent, although he was only able to win by consistently downplaying his ethnicity and religion. This was a wake-up call for Republicans who realized they needed to compete for the growing voting demographics of non-WASPs, the groups that had long been the base of the Democratic Party.

As is common with reactionaries, such as the Catholic-raised Irishmen Edmund Burke as a politician in Protestant England, Weyrich was an outsider seeking power as an insider and it is precisely what made him such a devious Machiavellian. Corey Robin explains this is a typical pattern, as the reactionary is not only defending against the left but challenging the old order as well, challenging it in order to transform it so utterly that what it was before is forgotten, all accomplished through the rhetorical sorcery of the Burkean imagination. In the US, that old order was WASP hegemony. But as a non-WASP, Weyrich and other far right Catholics could only seize power by changing American identity. He needed to organize conservative Christians, divided for centuries according to the religious wars and pogroms of Catholics against Protestants and Christians against Jews, as a never-before envisioned singular religious right. This required convincing theologically opposed religious sectarians that they somehow had a shared theology based on mutual interests and identity, that they were red-blooded God-fearing Americans joined in a Cosmic War against treasonous Godless Commies.

That brings us to Weyrich’s second admission, which gets to the point of ideological narratives as political rhetoric. It doesn’t matter what the public citizenry privately thinks, believes, and values. It’s not even all that important what the public as individuals knows privately in their own separate minds, as private knowledge is often vague and shifting or even largely unconscious. Real power is found in what the public knows in public, what the public is allowed to know collectively, and what the public is made to think it knows as a common people. Public knowledge is what not only what the public knows but what the public publicly knows it knows. Such public knowledge can only occur when there is a public platform or other public space for the public to hear their own voices, their own opinions, to see themselves stand and act together as a public. This is the visceral power of a protest or other large-scale social event when those gathered suddenly realize they are a group, sometimes far larger in number than they previously realized. This is the reason civil rights leaders like Martin Luther King, Jr. ensured the national media got film footage of the protesters standing up to police and being beat down. It created a public identity not only for the protesters but also for the viewers at home who naturally felt sympathy.

This is why perception management is essential to social control. It’s not merely those who control the voting process or the counting of votes that control a banana republic but, more importantly, those who control how people think and perceive. Control that, and then identity and behavior will follow. Weyrich understood this, as did Richard Wirthlin. It is effectively irrelevant that, in fact, most Americans are socially, economically, and politically on the left, as even Fox News data supports, if you can mislead them into falsely believing that most other Americans are on the right and that the supposed minority of leftists are dangerous radicals, violent malcontents, and out-of-touch extremists. As the main religious right organizer and the mastermind behind the right-wing Shadow Network, Weyrich helped found the Moral Majority organization. On its public opening, coinciding with Ronald Reagan’s presidential bid, Weyrich openly stated to a cheering crowd, “Now many of our Christians have what I call the goo-goo syndrome — good government. They want everybody to vote. I don’t want everybody to vote. Elections are not won by a majority of people, they never have been from the beginning of our country and they are not now. As a matter of fact, our leverage in the elections quite candidly goes up as the voting populace goes down.” At the start of it all, Weyrich and other aspiring social dominators knew it was a charade.

The religious right’s claim of being a ‘Moral Majority’ is what’s called the Big Lie. The bigger the lie the better, and the more it’s repeated better still. Reactionaries don’t wait for public opinion to come around to agreeing with them. Instead, they seek to manipulate the public into what they perceive as the correct opinion, or failing that to create a sense of division and polarization that disempowers the public, so that reactionary elites can wield domination and control. The reality-based community on the left is concerned about actual public opinion. But polling and survey data is, for all intents and purposes, mere abstraction if it doesn’t conform to dominant narratives propagandistically pushed by the economic, media, and political elites. And in a banana republic, it is the elite who control all of the main platforms of speech, private and public. That is how the reactionary right turned abortion, a non-contested issue for most of American and Christian history, into a perceived culture war as Cosmic War by weaponizing the high-stakes moral panic and existential crisis of World War and Cold War, and then pushing it ever into further extremes of anxiety and distress by reinforcing a high inequality socioeconomic order.

Weyrich, as a Silent, understood his generation and so he was able to capitalize on a highly focused fear-mongering and scapegoating. It’s not necessarily that he perceived a generational conflict but sought to create one and constantly feed fuel to the fire. Lying about a non-existent moral majority was successful in the short term, such as potent political rhetoric and dog whistle politics that elected many Republicans like Ronald Reagan, while terrifying the moderate reactionaries in the Democratic Party to chase the far right with hopes of some bullshit triangulation, when it turns out that the American majority probably has been to the left of the entire political establishment for a half century now. The public isn’t actually polarized in terms of false equivalency, that is to say the polarization is between the majority and one particular minority while other minorities are silenced. Perceived polarization can, over time, become real polarization. Ironically, the Silent Generation, in embracing lies promulgated to silence them, ended up silencing themselves by forgetting their own history. Then, with Silents rising to power, as that historical revisionism became mainstream history, most other Americans across the generations followed suit in falling into historical amnesia, like gnostic angels falling into demiurgic darkness.

* * *

Conclusion: What Was the Abortion Debate About?

“It is worth noting that, from a strictly medical perspective, Roe v. Wade was a success. It is estimated that the number of illegal abortions fell from 130,000 in 1972 to 17,000 in 1974, with associated deaths likewise plummeting from 39 to five. In subsequent years Roe v. Wade saved thousands of lives by guaranteeing that women who wished to terminate a pregnancy could do so in a safe environment with qualified medical professionals. The ruling also made it easier for states to regulate abortion, as they would any other medical procedure.”
~Matthew Rozsa, The Christian right didn’t used to care about abortion — until they did

“In Africa and Asia, where abortion is generally either illegal or restricted, the abortion rate in 2003 (the latest year for which figures are available) was 29 per 1,000 women aged 15-44. This is almost identical to the rate in Europe—28—where legal abortions are widely available. Latin America, which has some of the world’s most restrictive abortion laws, is the region with the highest abortion rate (31), while western Europe, which has some of the most liberal laws, has the lowest (12).

“Lest it be thought that these sweeping continental numbers hide as much as they reveal, the same point can be made by looking at those countries which have changed their laws. Between 1995 and 2005, 17 nations liberalised abortion legislation, while three tightened restrictions. The number of induced abortions nevertheless declined from nearly 46m in 1995 to 42m in 2003, resulting in a fall in the worldwide abortion rate from 35 to 29. The most dramatic drop—from 90 to 44—was in former communist Eastern Europe, where abortion is generally legal, safe and cheap. This coincided with a big increase in contraceptive use in the region which still has the world’s highest abortion rate, with more terminations than live births.”
~The Economist, Safe, legal and falling

Obviously, the moral issue at stake isn’t about the lives of babies, much less the health and safety of women, even less so public health and public good. The religious right should be more accurately labeled anti-life than pro-life. Going by numerous polls and surveys from diverse sources, religious right-wingers strongly support theocracy, social Darwinism, racism, misogyny, defunding welfare, corporal punishment (e.g., beating children), militarized policing, capital punishment, wars of aggression, and on and on. And one is forced to point out the long violent history of anti-choice activists who have attacked, beaten, and assassinated numerous people. The dark irony is that the so-called pro-life movement is notoriously one of the most violent movements, only upstaged in recent decades by national attention turned to a different variety of right-wing religious terrorists, that of Islamic extremists, another group that one suspects would gladly join the anti-choice ranks.

About abortion directly, we know that the results of changes in abortion laws can vary greatly. That is particularly true with legalization, as it depends on what other laws and policies are in place. Abortions are the consequence of unwanted pregnancies. So, it depends on how effective is a society in preventing unwanted pregnancies. Liberal policies tend to be the most effective, as they ensure availability of birth control, family planning, health clinics, and full sex education. But legalizing abortion while doing nothing to prevent unwanted pregnancies, if representing progress, is not entirely a boon to women, children, or society. The thing is abortion legalization, as a typically liberal policy, tends to go with other liberal policies. The same is true with abortion bans that, in most cases, either don’t decrease the abortion rate or increase it, just with it being illegal, dangerous, and harmful.

In the case of the US, we can look at this nationally which is required because all that state abortion bans end up doing is forcing women to go to another state. To know the effect of a policy, we have to look across states. The difficulty is legalizing abortions at the federal level did nothing to help prevent pregnancies in conservative states that didn’t implement liberal policies to prevent unwanted pregnancies. Even so, in recent years, we’ve hit a historic low, in fact lower than it was in 1973 when Roe v. Wade was passed (Guttmacher Institute, U.S. Abortion Rate Continues to Decline, Reaching Historic Low in 2017). In countries, where national and local policy are in line, the shifting is greater in the abortion rate between abortion bans and abortion legalization. Generally, the liberal emphasis on giving women access to safe and healthy options tends to decrease women seeking abortions. Whereas, anytime conservatives govern, all indicators of public good and public health go in decline (James Gilligan, Why Some Politicians Are More Dangerous Than Others).

The decrease of illegal abortions alone, even if the total number remained the same, would still be massive progress. So many women are harmed from unsafe abortions and the costs are high, both in lives and monetarily (Michael Vlassoff, et al, Estimates of Health Care System Costs of Unsafe Abortion In Africa and Latin America). This is what anti-scientific reactionaries won’t talk about. They act as if moral issues have no moral calculus, no objective measure, just black and white dogmatism decreed by an authoritarian deity. Instead of facts, they rely on emotional sway (e.g., dismissing people as “baby killers”) and false claims (e.g., abortion increases mental illness), or else theological groupthink. One time, when confronting an anti-choice protester, the individual was honest with us in admitting that he’d still be against abortion legalization even if it increased the abortion rate, the reason given being that he only cared about saving my soul. Our parents, although conservative Christians, wouldn’t quite go to such theological extremes. Yet when we tried to show them data in order to have an informed discussion, they blank-face refused to look at it.

But what underlies all of the psychological avoidance and denialism, all of the ideological smoke and mirrors? Since so many self-identified pro-lifers dismiss the data about liberal policies decreasing death, then they aren’t really pro-lifers but, as many suspect, anti-choicers. That is to say theocrats. Even then, that seems just a matter of convenience. Without religiosity to fall back on, it would simply be some other variety of authoritarianism and social dominance. Maybe the outward form isn’t particularly important. Rather, as Corey Robin suggests, it’s the reactionary defense of hierarchy and inequality, that is to say subjugation; and subjugation requires punishment, no matter the cost, for punishment in turn is the justification. That is why the same religious right will just as easily embrace social Darwinian capitalism, even as it contradicts Christian theology and morality. It’s all a charade, or at least that is true for the master manipulators who are behind the whole game, who have lured so many Americans into historical amnesia.

Guess Who Dropped Delaware’s Abortion Rate by a Third Without Reducing Access for Those Who Need It?
by by Valerie Tarico

* * *

Men and Feminism: Seal Studies
By Shira Tarrant, p. 48

Author John DeFrain writes in the Macmillan Encyclopedia of Death and dying that from the 1600s to the early 1900s, abortion was not a crime in the United States if it was performed before fetal movement, which starts at about twenty weeks into gestation.

“An antiabortion movement began in the early 1800s,” DeFrain writes, “led by physicians who . . . opposed the performing of abortions by untrained people, which threatened physician control of medical services.” The controversey over abortion gained attention only “when newspapers began advertising abortion preparations” in the mid-1800s. DeFrain explains that marketing these medicines became a moral issue–not necessarily because of questions over when life begins–but because it was feared that women could use abortion to hide extramarital affiars. “By the early 1900s,” DeFrain writes, “virtually all states . . . had passed antiabortion laws.”

A history of American thought on abortion: It’s not what you think
interview by Harry Bruinius of Geoffrey R. Stone

Americans, almost all, believed at that time that abortion had always been illegal, that it had always been criminal. And no one would have imagined that abortion was legal in every state at the time the Constitution was adopted, and it was fairly common. But people didn’t know that.

The justices came to understand the history of abortion partly because [Justice Harry] Blackmun previously had been general counsel [at the Mayo Clinic] and researched all this stuff. But this history also began to be put forth by the women’s movement. And this was eye-opening to the justices, because they had, I’m sure every one of them, assumed abortion had been illegal back to the beginning of Christianity. And they were just shocked to realize that was not the case, and that prohibiting abortion was impairing what the framers thought to be … a woman’s “fundamental interest.”

What weighed on me most was that, in the past, women could never speak out about their illegal abortions because it was a crime – even speaking about it in public was considered obscenity. So there was no public story about these things happening, except in instances when somebody died having an abortion.

But the public had no concept of how many women were having abortions or the horror they were living in. And that began to change when women began to speak out about what their experience had been. And that came into the minds of the justices. And I think those are the two factors that most influenced more conservative justices to embrace [abortion as a fundamental right], including conservative justices appointed by [President Richard] Nixon.

In the 18th century, abortion was completely legal before what was called the “quickening” of a fetus – when a woman could first feel fetal movement, or roughly four and a half months through a pregnancy. No state prohibited it, and it was common. Post-quickening, about half the states prohibited abortion at the time the Constitution was adopted. But even post-quickening, very few people were ever prosecuted for getting an abortion or performing an abortion in the founding era. […]

Partly as a result of the attitudes of the Second Great Awakening, the American Medical Association, which had just been created in the 1840s, took the view that the fetus was a person from conception. Some leaders of the fledgling organization were fiercely religiously grounded. And there’s a lot of skepticism about why they did that. One of the explanations is that they were also trying to put midwives out of business. They wanted to take over that part of the process of giving birth. So that also made a significant impact, because it was the first time that medical officials were saying that abortion from the moment of conception is killing a person.

But the message was also that women should not be trusted. One of their themes was that, when women are pregnant, they simply do not have judgment. They also made the argument that children born after a woman had an abortion suffered, because abortion would make subsequent children deranged in certain ways. All of this created the background foundation for the Comstock Laws, which banned contraception, as well as any kind of discussion about anything to do with sex. That’s why well into the 1950s, you couldn’t show a married couple in bed together on television. And it was astonishing that every state banned obscenity, every state banned abortion, and every state banned contraception. And the federal government did the same, changing and eliminating what was the case at the time of the framing of the Constitution, and basically making anything relating to sex illegal.

When the ‘Biblical View’ for Evangelicals Was That Life Begins at Birth
by Jonathan Dudley

The history of translation of the Exodus passage is informative, and scholar Mark A. Smith includes a helpful survey in his book Secular Faith. The Latin vulgate in 405 translates the key term as “abortivum,” meaning “has a miscarriage.” The first English translation of the Bible in 1384 preserved this understanding, rendering it as “makes the child dead born,” while the Douay-Rheims translation in 1609 affirms this meaning, translating it as “she miscarry indeed.” The King James (1611), Revised (1885), and American Standard Version (1901) all translate the term as “her fruit depart her,” leaving open the question of whether the fruit departs due to miscarriage or premature birth. Finally, the Revised Standard Version (1952), Living Bible (1971), and New American Bible (1971) returned to “miscarriage” or “miscarry.”

Then in 1978, the year before the Moral Majority was founded by Jerry Falwell, the evangelical publishing house Zondervan produced the New International Version (NIV). For the first time in the history of Christianity, Smith notes, the NIV translated the passage as “she gives birth prematurely,” thereby implying the “life for life” punishment applied to harm caused either the woman or fetus. Subsequent translations produced by evangelical publishing houses followed this translation, including the New King James (1982), New Living Translation (1996), and Today’s New International Version (2005).

As a proxy for broader scholarly opinion on this re-translation, Smith looks at translations produced since then by non-evangelical Bible publishers. Other Protestant Bibles continued to translate the passage as “miscarriage” or “miscarry,” including the New Revised Standard Version (1989), Contemporary English Version (1995), The Message (2001), and the Common English Bible (2011). Hebrew Bibles translated the passage variably as “miscarry,” “miscarriage,” “her fruit depart,” or “child dies,” including the Living Torah (1981), Jewish Publication Society (1985), Complete Jewish Bible (1981), and Koren Jerusalem Bible (2008). And Catholic Bibles, despite official teaching from the Church that there is a right to life from the moment of conception, continued to translate the passage in the traditional way: “miscarriage” or “miscarry” (New Jerusalem Bible, 1985; New American Bible Revised Standard Edition, 2011).

The novel translation of Exodus 21:22-23 allowed the founders of the evangelical Right to neutralize previous, Bible-based reservations about Catholic pro-life activism. By 1980, Jerry Falwell was off to the races. “The Bible clearly states that life begins at conception,” he declared in his book Listen America! Abortion “is murder according to the Word of God.” Falwell’s major reference for this claim was Psalm 139:13, where the author writes that God “knit me together in my mother’s womb.” Most biblical scholars, however, including many in the evangelical community, argue that this passage deals with God’s foreknowledge and omniscience, not with when life begins.

Although many evangelical scholars objected to these new interpretations, others strained to provide additional biblical support. “The Bible shows life begins at conception,” the professor Paul Fowler declared in a 1984 book, Abortion: Toward an Evangelical Consensus. “In the Genesis narratives alone, the phrase ‘conceived and bore’ is found eleven times. The close pairing of the two words clearly emphasizes conception, not birth, as the starting point.” He concludes at the end of the book that “Scripture is Clear!” that life begins at conception.

More recently, the leadership of Focus on the Family, even while insisting on the most stringent and traditional possible reading of passages on homosexuality, happily embraced this reinterpretation of Exodus. And they rummaged through the rest of the Bible to support the newfound belief in personhood from conception with what can only be described as desperation. After asking on their website, “Are the preborn human beings?” they answer that “The Lord Jesus Christ began his incarnation as an embryo, growing into a fetus, infant, child, teenager, and adult.” The one verse they cite as proof is the following: “While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son” (Luke 2:6-7, NIV).

That evangelicals changed their minds so dramatically on when personhood begins, and in the midst of a political crusade against the sexual revolution, doesn’t by itself show they are wrong. (Many other arguments do that). But it does weaken their claim to be the guardians of traditional morality. And it renders absurd the apoplectic reactions to Pete Buttigieg’s recent comments. When he noted that some Christians have read the Bible as teaching that life begins at first breath, he might as well have been referring to the parents of his own loudest critics.

The Progressive Roots of the Pro-Life Movement
by Emma Green

If the first advocates of abortion legalization in America were doctors, their most vocal opponents were their Catholic colleagues. […] But though these Catholics may have been theologically conservative, most of them were not what most Americans would consider politically conservative, either by midcentury or contemporary standards. “There were some political conservatives who participated in the early movement, but for the most part, the public rhetoric of the movement tended to be grounded in liberalism as seen through a mid-20th century Catholic lens,” Williams said. “It’s New Deal, Great Society liberalism.”

For most mid-century American Catholics, opposing abortion followed the same logic as supporting social programs for the poor and creating a living wage for workers. Catholic social teachings, outlined in documents such as the 19th-century encyclical Rerum novarum, argued that all life should be preserved, from conception until death, and that the state has an obligation to support this cause. “They believed in expanded pre-natal health insurance, and in insurance that would also provide benefits for women who gave birth to children with disabilities,” Williams said. They wanted a streamlined adoption process, aid for poor women, and federally funded childcare. Though Catholics wanted abortion outlawed, they also wanted the state to support poor women and families.

Other progressives, though, took a more calculating approach to poverty and family planning. Some proponents of the New Deal believed birth control could be used to implement government policy—a means of reducing the number of people in poverty and, ultimately, saving the state money, Williams said. Later, as technology made it easier to detect fetal deformities, abortion proponents commonly argued that women should have the option of terminating their pregnancies if doctors saw irregularities. “It was a widespread belief among abortion-liberalization advocates … that society would be better off if fewer severely deformed babies were born,” Williams said. The Catholics who opposed abortion “saw this as a very utilitarian perspective,” he said. “If you believed the fetus was a human being, this life would be destroyed for someone else’s quality of life, and they saw this as a very dangerous way of thinking.”

At times, there was a dark racial component to pro-abortion and birth-control rhetoric. In the early 20th century, for example, “there was substantial support in some areas of the country for the eugenic use of birth control to limit the reproductive capabilities of poor, sexually promiscuous, or mentally disabled women—especially those who were African American,” Williams writes in his book. Decades later, as public-aid spending ballooned in the 1960s, a new kind of racism entered the abortion debate. “Many whites stereotyped welfare recipients as single African American women who had become pregnant out of wedlock and were ‘breeding children as a cash crop,’ as Alabama Governor George Wallace said,” William writes. “Wallace eventually took a strong stance against abortion, but like some of his fellow conservatives,” he was an early supporter of legalization.

The History of the Pro-life Movement
by Alex Ward

Prior to the 19th century, abortion had been legal (in some instances) throughout much of the United States. Most of the early regulations were aimed at protecting women from unsafe practices, with “quickening”—when the baby could be felt moving—serving as a line for when an abortion was permitted. However, as medical technology advanced and scientists were able to see the combination of genetic material from the parents that resulted in a fertilized egg, the line moved further backward. By the early 1900s, almost every state had criminalized abortion, though this was rarely enforced

In America, we often think of the pro-life movement arising from the decision of Roe v. Wade in 1973. It is also often cast as a clear political divide, with those on the right opposing the practice and those on the left supporting it. However, as Daniel Williams has shown in his history of the movement, it has roots going back to at least the 1930s and 1940s, and there was no clear political divide.1

At that time, Catholics (and it was primarily Catholics) were the strongest opponents of abortion on the grounds that it (along with contraception) was a violation of the official church teaching on the sanctity of human life. These Christians drew on the long tradition of Catholic social teaching and argued that care for the poor was a duty for Christians. On the basis of their theology, they found it easy to advocate for FDR’s New Deal program which created a stronger social safety net for the poor. And in the context of that moment, it was the poor, just as today, who were the most likely to receive (and suffer) from an abortion. Because of the limits on when doctors could provide abortions legally, it was common for women to obtain illegal and unsafe procedures which threatened their life.

Protestants were largely unconcerned with the cause of abortion. Though some fundamentalists opposed the practice, most evangelicals were silent on the issue. And mainline Protestants, who made up the largest section of the religious landscape at the time, were moving from apathetic to sympathetic supporters, especially in the 1960s.

A religious movement, arising from conditions that were killing women, helped give birth to Roe
interview of Gillian Frank by John Stoehr

Contrary to conservative belief, religious people were not opposed to abortion before 1973. Opinions were mixed. Catholics were against it. Nothing unusual there. Evangelical Protestants were indifferent. That might be surprising. More surprising, though, is the decades’ long religious movement advocating for the repeal of state abortion laws.

Why?

Because “these ministers, these rabbis, these priests, these nuns” were on the frontlines of slow-moving medical disaster in which desperate women did desperate things, resulting in mutilation or death.

“They witnessed the mass loss of life, the mutilation, the sterilizations that were inadvertent results of botched abortions – they could see the stress of women and the fear of women who were sent away because they had unwanted pregnancies,” Professor Frank said.

This religious movement was part of the social context from which arose a Supreme Court ruling that privacy is a constitutional right.

A religious movement helped give birth to Roe. […]

In the wake of what became apparent – that hundreds of thousands of people were seeking illegal abortions each year – clergy, along with other professionals, physicians and lawyers, started to issue statements calling for a reevaluation of state abortion laws.

Early ones started in 1959. They grew over time. The usual suspects were reformed Jews and Unitarians, but you would find this thinking in the leadership of just about every denomination, except for Catholics.

Even Southern Baptists supported abortion reform before Roe. […]

What you would see, however, was not just religious voices, usually from the Catholic Church and their leaders, saying no to abortion.

You would see an inter- and intra-religious debate.

Every time you saw a bishop or priest adhering to the party line, saying abortion is murder, you would see rabbis and ministers saying reproductive choice is important. It is vital. Our faith supports it.

We want repeal or reform.

We want abortion to be a matter of private conscience.

But you would also have – and this is important to the story – Catholic priests and Catholic nuns quietly supporting abortion seekers. You would have lay Catholics seeking abortions in huge numbers.

So there was a disjunct between church leadership and church laity. It’s important to emphasize. It was an inter- and intra-religious debate.

When you looked around on the eve of Roe (1973), the landscape of religion and abortion was an overwhelming consensus that the law as it stood restricting abortion was immoral. It was unconscionable.

It was criminalizing private and intimate behaviors that should be a choice between a pregnant person and their physician.

That was the consensus.

That was the norm.

Voters Reframe the Abortion Policy Debate: A Theoretical Analysis of Abortion Attitudes in South Dakota
by Pamela Carriveau

While abortion continued to be illegal in the United States for most of the 20th century, by the 1960s it was a fairly noncontroversial issue in American society as a whole and seen as a “humanitarian medical issue under the control and supervision of physicians (McConagh 2007:188). The Largest dissenting group was Roman Catholics. In 1973 when Roe v Wade reestablished the legality of abortion for American women, the arguments in favor were framed as a protection of women, returning the decision whether to terminate a pregnancy to the woman who was pregnant.

What will and won’t happen when abortion is banned
by Michelle Oberman

Prior to Roe, rather than ask judges to decide these cases, states delegated the determination to doctors, essentially leaving the medical profession to devise its own ways of complying with the law. For reasons ranging from lack of consensus about qualifying conditions, to concern over the legal implications of their decisions (which might trigger prosecution on the one hand, or a wrongful death suit if the pregnant patient dies, on the other), doctors eschewed this responsibility. By the mid-20th century, hospitals around the country used so-called ‘therapeutic abortion committees’ to establish eligibility. These committees were marked by inconsistent outcomes, stemming from a lack of consensus over what constituted a ‘valid’ reason for terminating a pregnancy, whether legally or morally. Rather than standardizing the application of the law, the committee process facilitated ad hoc decision-making.

Making the Right Choice: the polarized US abortion debate and its transnational implications.
by Olivia Murdock

Following the early 1800s, restrictive abortion regulations were increasingly implemented across the country, even though it was a widespread procedure and not particularly widely discussed until the late half of the century. This is when the issue of abortion progressed as a politicized topic in the US, and the debate originated from the arguments of elite groups of physicians portraying abortion as something linked to unmarried women lacking morals when women were expected 20 to fulfill their duties as wives. This increase in politicized debate was also influenced by the reclining birth rate of white Americans and the increase of immigrants, as well as the professional self-interest of elite groups of white male physicians who, by increasing public debate on the topic, effectively overtook control of reproductive health from the midwives (Saurette & Gordon, 2016; Davis, 2003). Following this spread of anti-abortion arguments, abortion was banned in many states and those performing or receiving the procedure could be prosecuted. The debate was highly influenced by not only the elite physicians, but by religious, demographic, moral, and racial grounds (Saurette & Gordon, 2016). However, following this development, a movement for increased reproductive freedom formed in the late 1800s and early 1900s increasing access to contraceptives. Although this was the beginning of equality-based arguments for reproductive rights, the debate was influenced by radical groups in favor of birth control for certain groups to control reproduction of, particularly, African Americans, indigenous people, criminals, sex workers, and those suffering from mental illness (ibid).

The Complicated History of Catholics, Protestants, and Contraceptives
by Molly Worthen

To many American Protestants in the late 19th century, having legions of children was not the cultural norm. They believed that dragging around armloads of screaming tots was—like massive street parades for the Virgin and bloc voting for Mob politicians—an old-fashioned and vaguely threatening thing that only Catholic immigrants did. Protestant women volunteered with the temperance league and contented themselves with an heir and a spare, or maybe a couple of spares: Between 1800 and 1920, the birth rate among native-born white (read: Protestant) women declined from 7.04 to 3.13, while Catholic families were still averaging 6.6. While upstanding, Anglo-Saxon Protestant women were buying condoms made from sheep intestinesdouching with dubious solutions like “Cullen’s Female Specific,” and having furtive abortions, those Catholic babes in arms were growing up into a veritable papist army. By the turn of the century they represented 13 percent of the national population.

Evangelical activists’ concern over rising Catholic census numbers was one factor in the cocktail of Victorian moralism and anxiety about sexuality that motivated states and the federal government to ban the dissemination of information about birth control and the sale of contraception devices, and to stiffen anti-abortion laws in the late 19th century. The laws were partly intended to prevent white Protestant women from shirking their duty as mothers of the fittest race. But ethnic prejudice fueled the other side of the birth control debate, too. Liberals in the eugenics movement applauded the potential of modern birth control and sterilization to purify humanity of “criminality” and “feeblemindedness,” traits that they usually found most often among poor Catholics and people of color.

The Making of the Evangelical Anti-Abortion Movement
by Anne Rumberger

In 1971, the Southern Baptist Convention, the largest Protestant denomination in the United States, adopted a resolution calling on fellow Southern Baptists to work to make abortion legal under certain conditions, namely, ‘rape, incest, clear evidence of severe fetal deformity, and carefully ascertained evidence of the likelihood of damage to the emotional, mental, and physical health of the mother’. In 1973, W A Criswell, former president of the Southern Baptist Convention and pastor of First Baptist Church in Dallas, Texas, expressed his satisfaction with the Roe v Wade ruling: 

I have always felt that it was only after a child was born and had a life separate from its mother that it became an individual person, and it has always, therefore, seemed to me that what is best for the mother and for the future should be allowed.

Catholic religious leaders and grassroots activists had been organising against state abortion reform laws in the years leading up to Roe, but from the 1960s and into the late 1970s the vast majority of evangelicals and fundamentalists were ambivalent about the issue and, for most people, abortion was considered a personal issue, not a political one. Historian Daniel K. Williams discusses evangelical opinion on abortion in his book on the making of the Christian Right, God’s Own Party: 

In 1970, a Baptist View poll showed that while 80 per cent of Southern Baptist pastors opposed ‘abortion on demand’, 70 per cent favored allowing abortion to protect the physical or mental health of a woman, and 64 per cent thought that state laws should permit abortion in cases of fetal deformity. 71 per cent had no objection to abortion in cases of rape and incest.

The history of Southern Baptists shows they have not always opposed abortion
by Susan M. Shaw

Early on, many evangelicals, including Southern Baptists, saw opposition to legal abortion as a “Catholic issue.”

A 1970 poll by the Baptist Sunday School board found that a majority of Southern Baptist pastors supported abortion in a number of instances, including when the woman’s mental or physical health was at risk or in the case of rape or fetal deformity.

The SBC passed its first resolution on abortion two years before the Roe decision. While the Convention never supported the right of a woman to have an abortion at her request for any reason, the resolution did acknowledge the need for legislation that would allow for some exceptions.

In fact, many Southern Baptists saw the Roe decision as drawing a needed line between church and state on matters of morality and state regulation. A Baptist Press article just days after the decision called it an advancement of religious liberty, human equality and justice.

The Convention affirmed this resolution in 1974 after Roe was decided. A 1976 resolution condemned abortion as “a means of birth control” but still insisted the decision ultimately remained between a woman and her doctor.

A 1977 resolution clarified the Convention’s position, reaffirming its “strong opposition to abortion on demand.” However, it also reaffirmed the Convention’s views about the limited role of government and the right of pregnant women to medical services and counseling. This resolution was affirmed again in 1979.

How Southern Baptists became pro-life
by David Roach

Before Roe v. Wade

Between 1965-68, abortion was referenced at least 85 times in popular magazines and scholarly journals, but no Baptist state paper mentioned abortion and no Baptist body took action related to the subject, according to a 1991 Ph.D. dissertation by Paul Sadler at Baylor University.

In 1970, a poll conducted by the Baptist Sunday School Board found that 70 percent of Southern Baptist pastors supported abortion to protect the mental or physical health of the mother, 64 percent supported abortion in cases of fetal deformity and 71 percent in cases of rape.

Three years later, a poll conducted by the Baptist Standard newsjournal found that 90 percent of Texas Baptists believed their state’s abortion laws were too restrictive.

Support for abortion rights was not limited to theological moderates and liberals. At New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary in the early 1970s, some conservative students who went on to become state convention presidents and pastors of prominent churches supported abortion for reasons other than to save the life of the mother, Richard Land, former president of the Ethics & Religious Liberty Commission, told BP.

“They pretty much bought into the idea that life begins when breath begins, and they just thought of [abortion] as a Catholic issue,” Land, who attended New Orleans Seminary between 1969-72, said of his fellow students.

A 1971 SBC resolution on abortion appeared to capture the consensus. It stated that “society has a responsibility to affirm through the laws of the state a high view of the sanctity of human life, including fetal life.”

But the resolution added, “We call upon Southern Baptists to work for legislation that will allow the possibility of abortion under such conditions as rape, incest, clear evidence of fetal deformity, and carefully ascertained evidence of the likelihood of damage to the emotional, mental, and physical health of the mother.”

Reaction to Roe

When the Supreme Court legalized abortion on demand in 1973 with its Roe v. Wade decision, some Southern Baptists criticized the ruling while maintaining their support of abortion rights as defined in the 1971 resolution.

Others embraced the Supreme Court’s decision. A Baptist Press analysis article written by then-Washington bureau chief Barry Garrett declared that the court had “advanced the cause of religious liberty, human equality and justice.”

Before (and After) Roe v. Wade: New Questions About Backlash
by Linda Greenhouse & Reva B. Siegel

In the summer before Roe, a newspaper column about a new Gallup poll preserved in Justice Blackmun’s case file reported that sixty-four percent of Americans (and fifty-six percent of Catholics) agreed “with the statement that ‘the decision to have an abortion should be made solely by a woman and her physician”‘ -with “a greater proportion of Republicans (68 per cent) …than Democrats (59 per cent) holding the belief that abortion should be a decision between a woman and her physician.”” Consistent with these findings, Roe was an opinion written and supported by Justices whom a Republican president had recently appointed.” Indeed, it was at the urging of one of Richard Nixon’s most recent appointees, Justice Lewis F. Powell, Jr., that the seven-Justice majority in Roe extended constitutional protection from the first to the second trimester of pregnancy, until the point of fetal viability.” To say the least, these legal-political alignments invert contemporary expectations, in Alice-in-Wonderland fashion.

How have we moved from a world in which Republicans led the way in the decriminalization of abortion to one in which Republicans call for the recriminalization of abortion? The backlash narrative conventionally identifies the Supreme Court’s decision as the cause of polarizing conflict and imagines backlash as arising in response to the Court repressing politics.’4 In contrast to this Court-centered account of backlash, the history that we examine shows how conflict over abortion escalated through the interaction of other institutions before the Court ruled.

There is now a small but growing body of scholarship questioning whether abortion backlash has been provoked primarily by adjudication. Gene Burns, David Garrow, Scott Lemieux, and Laurence Tribe show that, in the decade before Roe, the enactment of laws liberalizing access to abortion provoked energetic opposition by the Catholic Church.” We offer fresh evidence to substantiate these claims, as well as new evidence about conflict before Roe that points to an alternative institutional basis for the political polarization around abortion -the national party system.

Through sources in our book and in this paper, we demonstrate that the abortion issue was entangled in a struggle over political party alignment before  the Supreme Court decided Roe. As repeal of abortion laws became an issue that Catholics opposed and feminists supported, strategists for the Republican Party began to employ arguments about abortion in the campaign for the 1972 presidential election. We show how, in the several years before Roe, strategists for the Republican Party encouraged President Nixon to begin attacking abortion as a way (1) to attract Catholic voters from their historic alignment with the Democratic Party and (2) to attract social conservatives, by tarring George McGovern, Nixon’s opponent in the 1972 presidential election, as a radical for his associations with youth movements, including feminists seeking ratification of the Equal Rights Amendment (ERA) and “abortion on demand.”” In reconstructing this episode, we show how strategists for the national political parties had interests in the abortion issue that diverged from single-issue movement actors, and we document some of the bridging narratives that party strategists used to connect the abortion conflict to other controversies.

Body politics: the secret history of the US anti-abortion movement
by Sarah Churchwell

When the US supreme court overturned Roe v Wade on 24 June, permitting the state criminalisation of abortion in America, the only thing everyone could agree on was that it was a historic decision. Unfortunately for America, the history it was based on was largely fake. The ruling, Dobbs v Jackson Women’s Health Organization, authored by Justice Samuel Alito, claims that in reversing Roe v Wade, the court restores the US to “an unbroken tradition of prohibiting abortion on pain of criminal punishment [that] persisted from the earliest days of the common law until 1973”, when Roe legalised abortion. This assertion, however, is easily disproven.As historians have exhaustively explained, early American common law (as in Britain) generally permitted abortions until “quickening”, or perceptible foetal movement, usually between 16 to 20 weeks into a pregnancy. Connecticut was the first state to ban abortion after quickening, in 1821, which is roughly two centuries after the earliest days of American common law. It was not until the 1880s that every US state had some laws restricting abortion, and not until the 1910s that it was criminalised in every state. In the wake of Dobbs, social media was awash with examples from 18th- and 19th-century newspapers that clearly refuted Alito’s false assertion, sharing examples of midwives and doctors legally advertising abortifacients, Benjamin Franklin’s at-home abortion remedies, and accounts of 19th-century doctors performing “therapeutic” (medically necessary) abortions. […]

But there is yet another, less well-known cause for all this in civil-war era America. Although most people today assume that anti-abortion laws were motivated by moral or religious beliefs about a foetus’s right to life, that is far from the whole story. In fact, the first wave of anti-abortion laws were entangled in arguments about nativism, eugenics and white supremacism, as they dovetailed with a cultural panic that swept the US in the late 19th and early 20th century as a result of the vast changes in American society wrought by the conflict. This panic was referred to at the time in shorthand as “race suicide”.

The increasing traction today of the far-right “great replacement theory”, which contends that there is a global conspiracy to replace white people with people of colour, and has explicitly motivated white supremacist massacres in the US, is often said to have originated with a French novel called The Camp of the Saints by Jean Raspail. Published in 1973, the same year that Roe v Wade enshrined American women’s rights to reproductive autonomy, it is a dystopian account of “swarthy hordes” of immigrants sweeping in and destroying western civilisation. But there were many earlier panics over “white extinction”, and in the US, debates around abortion have been entangled with race panic from the start. The fight to criminalise abortion may have successfully passed itself off as a moral crusade, but its origins are rooted in a political one.The idea of “race suicide” was popularised in the early 20th century largely by Theodore Roosevelt, who urged white women to have more babies to protect “native” American society against “diminishing birth rates”. He harangued Americans that “intentional childlessness” rendered people “guilty” of being “criminals against the race”. Roosevelt gave speeches declaring: “I believe in children. I want to see enough of them and of the right kind.”

The Dobbs opinion explicitly rejects arguments that anti-abortion laws were historically motivated by eugenicist nativism, rather than by religious or moral beliefs. It says that the opposition was only able to produce “one prominent proponent” of the idea that earlier anti-abortion laws were driven by “fear that Catholic immigrants were having more babies than Protestants and that the availability of abortion was leading White Protestant women to ‘shirk their maternal duties’”. Yet even a cursory survey of American discourse a century ago shows how utterly ubiquitous this idea was, as newspapers and lectures and sermons warned that abortion would mean that Catholics and other foreign-born immigrants would outnumber Protestant, native-born Americans. To take just one example among thousands, a 1903 editorial on population statistics noted that the Protestant population of the US was increasing by 8.1% while the Catholic population was increasing by 21.8%. This “alarming condition of things” was reflected by physicians reporting “on the average more than five abortions a month, none of them in Catholic families”. The piece was headlined “Religion and Race Suicide”.

The Long History of the Anti-Abortion Movement’s Links to White Supremacists
by Alex DiBranco

Hostile anti-Catholic sentiment cut both ways when it came to abortion, however. Until the 1970s, “pro-life” activism was firmly associated with Catholics and the pope in the minds of American Protestants. This deterred many Protestants from opposing abortion as a Christian moral issue—not only in the political sphere, but even as a matter of denominational teaching—because of its association with “papists” (a derogatory term for Catholics). Even the Roe v. Wade decision in 1973 decriminalizing abortion did not immediately bring conservative Protestants around. As late as 1976, the conservative evangelical Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) passed resolutions affirming abortion rights. “The assumption was that it must not be right if Catholics backed it, so we haven’t,” commented John Wilder, who founded Christians for Life as a Southern Baptist ministry in 1977 as the resistance to the pro-life movement began to dissipate.

This shift occurred in light of the lessening of anti-Catholic prejudice, strategic recruitment of evangelicals by New Right Catholic leaders, and evangelical discomfort with how many abortions took place as women accessed their new reproductive rights.

The cultural position of Catholics had shifted dramatically by the 1970s. As substantial immigration from Latin America and Asia posed a new threat to white numerical superiority, Catholics from European countries became culturally accepted as part of the white race, a readjusting of boundaries that maintains demographic control. The election of Roman Catholic John F. Kennedy as president in 1960 demonstrated how far Catholic acceptance had come—at least among liberals. Although conservative evangelical opposition to his candidacy remained rife with anti-Catholic fears, the rhetoric was less racialized and more focused on concerns about influence from the Vatican.

To counter this lingering prejudice, conservative Catholic leaders seized on the opportunity offered by the specter of atheist Communism in the mid-20th century to establish themselves as part of a Christian coalition with Protestants, unified against a common godless enemy. As Randall Balmer has written, evangelical concerns about being forced to desegregate Christian schools spurred political investment that Catholic New Right leaders capitalized on and channeled into anti-abortion and anti-LGBT opposition.

For white nationalists, meanwhile, as Carol Mason wrote in Killing for Life, Jewish people replaced Catholics as targets for groups like the KKK. “Now that abortion is tantamount to race suicide…naming Catholics—whose opposition to abortion has been so keen—as enemies would be counterproductive,” Mason wrote. Militant anti-abortion and explicit white nationalist groups came together prominently in the 1990s when a wing of the anti-abortion movement, frustrated with a lack of legislative progress, took on a more violent character fed by relationships with white supremacists and neo-Nazis.

How the Christian Right Became Prolife on Abortion and Transformed the Culture Wars
by Justin Taylor

The best description is that Southern Baptists had a moderate position on abortion for much of the 1970s, both in public opinion and also official denominational statements. They took a high view of life, even fetal life, and opposed abortion on demand, but supported legal abortion in several cases beyond protecting the life of the mother.

This moderate approach is probably best reflected in a 1971 Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) resolution. Baptist Press was also supportive of the Roe v. Wade decision, covering it approvingly and publishing a lengthy interview with one of the Roe lawyers who was a Southern Baptist.

In the 1970s, the pro-life position was predominantly Catholic. Before Roe, there were some liberal Protestant elements to the pro-life movement, as Daniel Williams’s book shows, but the Catholic Church was the dominant force.

By the early-mid-1970s, there was a bit of growing concern within evangelicalism. Carl F. H. Henry took a strong pro-life stance in 1971, and the National Association of Evangelicals asserted its opposition to abortion in 1971 and 1973.

But on the mass level, evangelicals were slow to join the pro-life movement. Even as late as 1979, the Baptist Joint Committee argued before a federal court that the Hyde Amendment, which restricted federal funds from being used to pay for abortions, violated the Establishment Clause because it established the Catholic religion.

It really was not until the end of the 1970s and early 1980s that conservative Christians moved decidedly in the pro-life direction. More popular groups like Baptists for Life and Christians for Life were created in the mid- to late-1970s, for example. I draw attention to Francis Schaeffer’s books and documentary films, which were popular among churches, pastors, and lay leaders. Schaeffer’s works also influenced Jerry Falwell, who helped elevate abortion activism on the national political stage. In 1980, the SBC passed an unequivocally pro-life resolution.

At the rank-and-file level, however, we see the bigger trends come later. Evangelicals were always more pro-life than non-evangelicals, but those divisions are more stark in the 1990s and 2000s.

Catholics v. the Constitution
by Ian Buruma

Even conservative Protestants supported the Roe outcome at the time. The Southern Baptist Convention stated in 1973 that “religious liberty, human equality, and justice are advanced by the Supreme Court abortion decision.” And yet, a decade later, evangelical conservatives, fearful that a wave of progressive secularism would threaten such cherished institutions as racially segregated Christian colleges, began to make common cause with radical Catholics. Roe became their rallying point. Their common goal was to break down the wall separating church and state, so carefully erected by the Constitution’s framers.

Some radicals now even claim that the separation of church and state was never actually intended. In the words of far-right Republican congresswoman Lauren Boebert: “I’m tired of this separation of church and state junk that’s not in the Constitution.” […]

The radicals appeal to “religious freedom.” If a football coach wants to pray at football games, surrounded by players who might not wish to invite his disapproval, he is only exercising his right to free speech and religious belief.

But the separation between church and state, at least in mostly Protestant democracies, such as the US, was meant precisely to defend religious freedom. Whereas the French notion of laicité was intended to keep the Catholic clergy from interfering in public affairs, the US Constitution was devised to protect religious authority from state intervention, as well as vice versa.

One reason why the Protestant elites in the US were suspicious of Catholics until not so long ago, apart from snobbish anti-Irish or anti-Italian sentiment, was the fear that Catholics would be more loyal to their faith, and thus to the authority of the Vatican, than to the US Constitution. That is why in 1960, as he campaigned for president, John F. Kennedy had to stress his belief “in an America where the separation of church and state is absolute, where no Catholic prelate would tell the president (should he be Catholic) how to act…”

What those Protestant elites feared is now a real threat. Catholic radicals and Protestant zealots are actively trying to impose their religious beliefs onto the public realm. Alito, as well as other Catholics, such as former Attorney General William Barr, see secularism as a threat (in Barr’s words) to “the traditional moral order.” That is to say, a strict interpretation of the Christian moral order.

Organizing After the 8th: Comparing and Contrasting the Catholic Irish Pro-life Movement and Its American Counterpart
by Rose Elizabeth Galik Miller

Prior to this, in the US, particularly before the Second World War, abortion was not uncommon; some estimates claim over 700,000 abortions were procured per year in the early- to mid-1930s.157 Essentially, even though abortion was illegal in the country, Daniel Williams relayed to me that these laws were “as useless as Prohibition.”158 Prior to the 1970s, Catholics composed an overwhelming majority of pro-life organizers in the US; however, Catholics did not make up a majority of the population in any state except Rhode Island and Massachusetts. […] [D]uring the1930s and 1940s[, …] in the US many doctors would covertly perform the procedure[. …] It wasn’t until the 1960s that the abortion debate in the US became filled with contention and rancor. […]

Prior to Roe, the pro-life movement was dominated by Catholics. In fact, there was not any official position taken on abortion by many Protestants until after the passage of Roe. Prior to the fears about abortion legalization spurred by the legalization of contraception in the United States via Griswold v. Connecticut, there was less public conversation about abortion among Protestants than among Catholics.162 Paul Simmons argues that furthermore, Protestants held the belief that the separation of church and state was a positive for protecting one’s ability to “act consistent with, and not to be compelled at law to act contrary to, one’s beliefs,” and the rights of the individual; at this point in time, this theopolitical standpoint was extended to abortion in many congregations.163 The Protestant community can be distinguished from the Catholic community, by some accounts, because there is no “final authority” in the Protestantcommunity.164 While there are obviously other differences between the two Christian sects, this difference is particularly important for this study because while Protestants could, and did, have widely varying institutional opinions on abortion, from the beginning of the modern pro-life movement, Catholicism has condemned any and all abortion and contraception.165 Because of the differing theopolitical viewpoints, relative to Catholics, in many Protestant communities there was a lack of momentum for considering things like contraception and abortion on a public stage, especially organizing politically around these issues. Even if an individual family would condemn abortion, there was such a belief in the separation of church and state, as well as the right of the individual, that abortion never became a hot-button topic for most Protestants until they decided to revise these convictions once-central to their faith. […]

Prior to Roe American Catholics condemned any abortion at any stage of pregnancy, whereas their Protestant counterparts made exceptions due to circumstances surrounding the pregnancy or how far along the pregnancy was (this became termed by trimester, but prior to that American Protestants used “quickening,” when the fetus’ movement could be felt, as aterminus ad quem for performing an abortion).169 Part of what kept Protestants, particularly Southern evangelical Protestants such as the Southern Baptists, away from the abortion debate prior to Roe is that abortion was perceived as what John Jeffries terms a “Catholic issue.”170 The perception of abortion as the terrain of Catholics impacted who was involved in the movement prior to Roe because of anti-Catholic sentiments in the US, and especially anti-Irish Catholic sentiments. […]

On the tail of the tumultuous 1960s, abortion was becoming one of the most important issues in the broader American mind. In 1972 in a study by William Ray Arney and William H. Trescher, surveying the general American public shortly before the Roe decision was released, abortion was seen to be acceptable by 83% of respondents if it was necessary to preserve the mother’s health, by 46% of respondents if needed for economic reasons, and by 38% of respondents if the person wanted no more children.183 These numbers jumped to 91%, 82% and46% in a survey taken about one year later in 1973, two months after Roe had been decided.184These remarkably high numbers show the odds pro-life organizers were up against. […]

In short, Southern Baptists, and many Protestants, had a fundamentally different viewpoint on abortion in the 1970s than they do today, and even actively stood up for abortion rights. Catholics were at the helm of the anti-abortion movement long before it became a central political issue for Republicans and Democrats alike. Indeed, the movement made it so that the very political alliance of those who termed themselves pro-life shifted from the Democratic Party(because of previous Catholic allegiance) to the Republican Party, because of how powerful the Southern Baptists became in the pro-life movement.

The Faith of Egoic Individuality

According to certain philologists and psychologists, from E. R. Dodds to Julian Jaynes, a private internal sense of self was a social construction made possible by linguistic innovations, such as metaphorical framings of space and containment. The theory asserts that the human psyche can be explained according to the bundle theory of mind, whereas the ego theory of mind is merely descriptive of a cultural artifact, albeit powerful and compelling.

Supposedly, prior to the invention of egoic individualism, both an inner voice and deceit as we know it wasn’t possible. That is shown in the changes that emerged with the wily Odysseus, the kind of character that was not previously depicted. Deceit requires a number of things. For one, there has to be a private internal space separate from a public external space. And secondly, that space must be used as a stage to imagine and model, to script, narratize, and enact scenarios in order to plan out how another could be manipulated. This requires high levels of cognitive empathy, theory of mind, and mind reading.

What allowed this psychosocial advancement may have been the rise of literacy and literary culture. Having begun as mainly a tool of accounting used by a literary elite, it took many millennia for writing to develop into more common use and so to have widespread effect on mentalities and identities. It’s important to note that the Odyssey was a later Homeric epic, closer to the time when they were being written down. It’s quite likely the story of Odysseus had changed over time, with his character increasingly taking on individualistic characteristics.

But even long after that, it was a slow process with many periods of reversion such as when literary culture declined in the West after the fall of Rome. It was only with the Protestant Reformation that literacy not only made a serious comeback but expanded like never before. Even Catholics embraced broad literacy to compete with Protestant and other dissenter cultures. In England, the Anglican Church, not properly Protestant but a Catholic splinter religion, came into conflict with the Catholic Church in the post-Reformation period. Literacy was more common then, but it’s affect was still restrained, not to boom until the early modern revolutionary and post-revolutionary periods.

In England, the tumultuous 17th century brought on Enlightenment Thought, Elizabethan Renaissance, Country Party ideology, English Civil War, and the Real or Radical Whigs. The burgeoning egoic individualism was challenging the social order but was far from firmly established. The underlying structure of a propertied self as egoic precursor was in place, if it was still largely defined externally, not to more fully take hold until the 19th century. The idea and experience of a hermetically-sealed inner space of inviolable individuality remained unimaginable to most, as it posed radical possibilities that could destabilize what remained of the Ancien Regime.

Yet there was a conflict over which public authority and voice authorization could make claims over the self. And so the arguments proffered involved rhetorical struggles over ideological interpellation, that is to say whose hail of authority should one respond and submit to. This division of claims, over time, unintentionally subverted the very claim of any external authority. The strengthening of individuality was largely a side effect of weakening centralized and hierarchical authority, if those seeking the command of authority over others would find ever new means to enforce and make compelling their voice authorization (e.g., the authoritarianism of of nation-states and mass media propaganda).

In this manner, the battle over the human psyche continues. Selfhood remains a morality play, a public narrative. The real power lies not in the character of the individual that is portrayed but in the authorizing voice that narratizes that character as part of an officially approved script. The locus of control is in the voice that hails, not in the self that is hailed, if there is always power in refusing a hail. And in present society, that ideological persuasion mostly comes by way of mass media and social media. No longer is it primarily church clerics fighting over our souls using apologetics but, instead, corporate perception managers with advertising, whitewashing, astroturf, think tanks, social media influencers, talking points, gatekeeping, and the propaganda model of news.

It’s a different kind of faith. We in the West are now all individuals following and conforming to the same script. Until another religious reformation, or rather revolution of the mind, comes along, the ideological realism of egoic individualism will remain the ruling voice in our minds, a voice that we mistake for our own. But older cultures remain with their vestiges of a bundled mind, reminding us of something else entirely. And no doubt new renaissances and enlightenments will come along, maybe restructuring society and psyche in their wake.

It’s not clear that powers behind egoic individualism will finally, much less permanently, seize the one ring that rules them all or if modern Western hegemony will be a mere historical spark in the pan, subsiding back again down to the resting level of human nature. With the authority of the word being challenged by the media of image and sound, it’s far from clear that the past centuries’ trajectory will continue. Those like Marshall McLuhan thought a new tribal-like age would follow.

* * *

Equivocation and the Legal Conflict Over Religious Identity In Early Modern England
by Janet E. Halley

The chief pugilists in the polemical controversy over equivocation were Thomas Morton, who served the English Church and Crown first as Dean of Gloucester and then as Bishop of Durham, and Robert Parsons, an English Jesuit who worked largely from the continent as a mastermind and controversialist for the English mission. Their polemics represent an implacable disagreement about what language is, about what constitutes an audience, and about what kind of self is created in the activity of discourse. It deceptively suggests that their models of discourse are mutually exclusive.

Parsons insisted that internal speech was not only possible but legally permissible. Morton insisted that speech always occurred in the public arena governed by law, and for that reason, it must be plainly referential. […] Parsons’ notion of internal speech appears to open up a space for private discourse that Morton would firmly close. Parsons asserts that the Aristotelian term “enunciative” describes not statements which may be heard by an audience but rather statements which affirm or deny. […] The Jesuit theory of equivocation constructs the self as a discursive world sufficient unto itself, encompassing both sign and signified within the mind and flatly excluding any necessity for social intercourse.

Jesuit proponents of equivocation defended the realm of discursive privacy which they created by invoking a Catholic’s personal right and capacity to determine the jurisdictional validity of any question put to him or her. The manuscript Treatise of Equivocation observes that the “order of law” requires that one must “answer directly” only when the inquisitor exhibits every condition of legitimate authority. […] Only when these conditions are not met is the respondent free to equivocate. Particularly if the form of equivocation he chooses is mental reservation, his course of action seems to suggest that he assumes a mantle of inviolable privacy and withdraws briefly from the social interaction. Thus Parsons instructs that, when these conditions are not met, “then [the Catholic] may answere, as though he were alone, and no manby[.]” […]

This answer defines speaker and audience diacritically. The inquisitor ceases to be a judge when he assumes a legally deficient relationship vis i vis the speaker, though he remains a present, public audience throughout the interaction. The justification of equivocation therefore turns on the shifting, socially contingent identity of the speaker. The priest, who might in another social setting “be” Peter, is not Peter when claiming that name would render him “Peter-who-owes-a-duty-of-responding-tothis-judge.” Even when he frames a large chunk of his answer as a silent self-address, the priest defines himself in terms of the legal relationship he bears to his interlocutor. […]

When Parsons opined that language was purely conventional, he was arguing not that Catholics could make the act of going to church mean whatever they liked, but that historical conditions had made the act of going to church “mean” the actor’s Protestantism and thus, for a Catholic, his apostacy. What is not apparent from Parsons’ exposition of this dialectic is his own role, as polemicist, in hardening it, in attempting to fix the boundaries of Catholic identity and to impose those boundaries on English Catholics. Parsons’ argument represents precisely what lay Catholics most resented about the Jesuits-their effort to dictate terms of martyrdom to devout believers who wished to find a middle way.

In this propaganda effort, as again later in the dispute over the Oath of Allegiance, Parsons and his fellow Jesuits exhibit a highly acute awareness of meaning as an everchanging product of cultural interactions, and thus seem to justify Morton’s attacks on them as subverters of the natural and stable reference of signs in the political sphere. But at the same time the Jesuits display a willingness to constrain Catholics to the single meaning which their semiology inflexibly assigns to the act in question. And they establish a kinship with Morton and Coke not only in this method, but also in their enforcement of a meaning created by the state. […]

Unlike Parsons, whose theory of the equivocating self expressly recognizes privacy to be a public construct, Morton’s attack on the concept of internal speech is predicated on the illusion that personal privacy is inviolable. […] This assertion delineates the two familiar spheres of private and of public life: the former is the equivalent of a man’s “self,” while the latter places him in relation to others. Within the private sphere-that is, within the boundaries of the self-Morton includes a man’s wife, his possessions, and his own meanings. Whatever goes on there, Morton claims, escapes legal control. In the public sphere occur legally cognizible actions: adultery (with another man’s wife), theft (of another man’s goods), and speech (to another man as audience). […]

As against this encapsulated self, Morton posits speech as an activity always undertaken within a public realm explicitly governed by law and by the sovereign’s power to interdict. All representation, whether by spoken or written signs, is thrown into an arena that lies within the legitimate power of the sovereign and her agents. It was as one such agent that Morton beckoned: “Loquere… vt te videam: Speake… my friend that I may see thee.”3 The distribution of action in this sentence is highly instructive. The speaker’s role is simply to speak; it remains for the listener to determine, on the basis of what he hears, who has spoken. Particularly in a political struggle that turns on personal identity, the listener’s ability to transform language heard into a person seen tips a discursive balance of power strongly in favor of the interpreter.

In the audience relation which Morton seeks to establish, an epistemological increment, from aural to ocular proof, accrues to an interpreter who aims not to comprehend some external referent of the speaker’s works, but rather to know the speaker’s personal identity. For all its appealing familiarity (“Speake, friend.. .”), Morton’s voice commands open and public speech, requires its own pivotal role as audience, and insists that the purpose of this social discourse is the listener’s power to fix promptly and accurately the speaker’s identity in all its unitary neatness. In opposition to the discursive privacy apparently advanced by the Jesuits, Morton constructs a thoroughly political world of speech.

We might call this invention a theory of jurisdiction, and note that it allows the exercise of state power to coerce speech, to create the lexicons according to which it will be interpreted, and to privilege or punish speakers on the basis of their utterances as interpreted by the state. Morton’s argument would leave to the private discretion of English citizens, however, the cultivation of their own thoughts. Like the statutes themselves, his formulation draws a boundary to the state’s jurisdictional reach at the perimeter of the private self.

It is precisely here, however, that the analogy Morton offers-between the private worlds of marriage, personal possession of property, and private thought-returns and ominously suggests its closure. For it suggests not merely that the contours of personal devotional privacy are drawn by the state as it withholds its powers from that domain, but more strikingly that the state creates the legal content of a privacy that is only ostensibly autonomous of it. The self that Morton constructs, after all, is no intrapsychic isolate. It comprises all persons (e.g., wives) and things (e.g., personal property) with which the law itself endows individuals, whether through the legal status of marriage or the legal recognition of property rights. For all its apparent simplicity and coherence, it is an exceedingly complex set of intrapersonal and material relationships, all of which take the shape they do through the action of legal enforcement.

Union Boss Collusion With Elite Controlled Politics

It’s no accident that, at the height of American labor organizing and unionization (during the brief period of American social democracy), not only was the labor movement more radically leftist but also aligned with independent third parties and leftist-run media outlets, both locally and internationally. Since labor declined, the major US labor unions have become extensions of, not challenges to, corporate capitalism and party machines. This resulted from an internal labor conflict, between left and right wings of the labor movement, that ended with the defeat of combative unionism (revolutionary unionism, class struggle unionism, rank-and-file unionism, social unionism, etc) and the victory of business unionism or mainstream unionism that, in lacking leftist solidarity, has been easily blown about by the fickle winds of the neoliberal DNC elite caught in the sails of labor liberalism. Though to be fair, an earlier generation of labor liberals had been more open to radical leftism and some hope that it might one day return (Andrew Battista, The Revival of Labor Liberalism), a dream of a left-liberal alliance that could be inspiring, if far from present socio-political realities.

Business unionism, in having grown cozy within capitalist realism, is modeled on the hierarchical and bureaucratic structure of corporatocratic big biz and plutocratic cronyism. There is the rub. It’s not only a failure of organization and strategy but also of morality and radical imagination. Those in power listen to money, no matter where that money comes from. The labor aristocracy, who hobnob with plutocratic and corporate elites, are the ones who control the money spigot of labor unions, not the dues-paying members from which the money comes. That is why there is decades of history, as outlined by leftists, of union leadership betraying or undermining the best interests of workers. It’s similar to the reason corporate-funded-and-aligned US politicians are disconnected from their own constituents, not realizing or pretending to not know how far left is the American public. Those political elites use the wealth and resources of the public, the people they’re supposedly representing, to harm the interests of the public. Such is how corruption operates in the US, across party lines, in the public and private sectors, among both corporate and union leadership.

Union bosses, Congressional politicians, or any other category of the wealthy and/or powerful will act according to plutocratic and corporatocratic incentives that are built into the entire socioeconomic order when plutocratic and corporate interests own and control the economic system, political system, deep state (i.e., permanent bureaucracy that is unelected, bipartisan, and continues across administrations without democratic transparency, oversight, and accountability), major institutions, mainstream media, platforms of speech, and various other levers of power, control, manipulation, and influence. In a society that is soft fascist or inverted totalitarian, or some combination of the two, even unions become co-opted by the same corporate interests. It’s the same process by which happens corporate capture of regulatory agencies. The supposed solution becomes part of the problem.

This is precisely the kind of corruption that is absolute and undeniable proof of this being a banana republic. Actual functioning democracy, in countries like the Scandinavian social democracies, have legal protections against such corruption such as limiting or entirely eliminating big money and dark money in politics that otherwise operates as legalized bribery. But the reason we don’t see such democratic and progressive reforms in the US is because most major politicians at present realize that, if we ever did get democracy, they’d never again win another election and would be permanently removed from power. The currently ruling union big wigs surely likewise understand they’d lose position and power if unions operated democratically where majority vote and active participation determined decision-making.

American corporate capitalism, as capitalist realism run by legalized and organized crime syndicates (i.e., transnational corporations), is corrupt. And we are forced to admit that labor unions are inseparable from the moral failure of that economic system. Unions donating money to the Democratic Party doesn’t change that. Political democracy is only possible when there is a democratic economy and democratic culture, an entire democratic society in all areas and at all levels. Unions, as they’ve been captured and co-opted, are constrained by the corrupt system itself. Early labor organizing, instead, challenged and defied the corrupt system, even to the point of illegal strikes and armed resistance, not by asking permission from the corporate elites and corporatocratic politicians. But present American unions operate within the legal system created by the very crony capitalists and monied interests that theoretically they are supposed to be protecting their members against.

Of course, the problem of unions is relative. The main concentration of wealth and power (corporations, the capitalist ownership class, federal government, politicians, party machines, etc) are vastly more corrupt than the worst labor union. But labor unions are so weak and compromised as to have no autonomous power in acting independently of that corrupt power structure. So, it’s not really to blame unions per se, and certainly not to dismiss labor organizing. But it is to suggest that, as long as labor unions operate within anti-democratic systems and are beholden to anti-democratic elites, they will inevitably act according to and promote corruption by default. Then after corrupting union leadership, the corrupt corporate management and crony politicians use labor unions as a scapegoat. Still, it’s less about the unions being directly corrupt than being complicit in the larger corrupt society, if it’s basically the same difference.

* * *

This post is an answer in response to some comments at an r/AskALiberal subreddit discussion thread: Was 2000 a “stolen election”? It’s somewhat frustrating how little defense there is of democracy on the pseudo-liberal ‘Left’. But our thoughts above were an articulation about a specific problem that has plagued mainstream partisan politics. And there is a personal context for our criticalness.

We were a dues-paying member of the AFSCME union for almost a quarter century. But we lost faith in AFSCME when they officially backed plutocratic, corporatocratic, and neoliberal Hillary Clinton in 2016. This was a betrayal of AFSCME members, most having supported Bernie Sanders for president. If a union doesn’t represent union members, then who do they represent when they throw their weight behind the monied interests of a capitalist political machine? What are the dues paying for and where is the money going?

The commenter that brought on our response said that AFSCME had no other choice than to fall in line, presumably under the threat of the powers that be. It was the same response, interestingly, as other commenters gave for Gore’s conceding the stolen election, that he had no choice. That kind of rationalization sounds awfully like the capitalist realism of Margaret Thatcher, that There Is No Alternative (TINA). Such apathetic fear, cynicism, defeatism, or fatalism is what has long fueled the lesser evilism that, with every election, inevitably and predictably worsens political evil.

By the way, AFSCME, in our local government workplace, has almost no effective power at present in having willingly given up the right to strike. Unsurprisingly, all that we describe here and much else has corresponded with a weakening and decline of the the labor Left and rest of the Left with it. Below are more than a few resources to explain what has gone wrong and what were the other alternatives, the other choices that were denied, suppressed, erased, and forgotten. There is always another choice. As one anti-Nazi freedom fighter once said, when the oppressors only offer two choices, always pick the third option.

An Injury to All: The Decline of American Unionism
by Kim Moody

U.S. Labor in Trouble and Transition: The Failure of Reform from Above, The Promise of Revival from Below
by Kim Moody

Breaking the Impasse: Electoral Politics, Mass Action, and the New Socialist Movement in the United States
by Kim Moody

Ramparts of Resistance: How Workers Lost Their Power and How to Get it Back
by Sheila Cohen

Reviving the Strike
by Joe Burns

Strike Back
by Joe Burns

Class Struggle Unionism
by Joe Burns

We Are the Union: Democratic Unionism and Dissent at Boeing
by Dana L. Cloud

Solidarity for Sale: How Corruption Destroyed the Labor Movement and Undermined America’s Promise Hardcover
by Robert Fitch

Solidarity for Sale: Corruption in Labor Unions
by Steve Inskeep

Labor: Mind Your Assumptions
interview with Joe Burns by Stephan Kimmerle

We Need a Labor Movement Willing to Challenge the Status Quo
interview of Joe Burns by Truthout’s Left Voice

Author Joe Burns wants you to take a more radical, militant ‘Class Struggle’ approach to labor organizing
by Guy Oron

Class Struggle Unionism: A Specter to Haunt the Billionaire Class
by Alex Riccio

The return of the fighting union
by Robert Ovetz

How can we build class struggle unionism?
by Peter Hogarth

What Is Class Struggle Unionism?
by Jason Koslowski

When Labor Fought for Civil Rights
by Rich Yeselson

To Win Social Justice, We Must Win the Class War
by Susan Rosenthal

Unions, Democrats, and Working-Class Interests
by John Russo

Labor on the Ropes
by Traven Leyshon

To Renew Working-Class Resistance, the Labor Movement Must Be Democratized
by Bryan Evans, Carlo Fanelli, Leo Panitch, & Donald Swartz

To Deepen Democracy, Give Workers More Say
by Desmond Serrette

Anarchism and the American Labor Movement
by Jeff Stein

Marxism, unions, and class struggle
by Sharon Smith

Beyond Labor Liberalism Towards Building Class Struggle Unionism
by Ken Nash & Mimi Rosenberg

Two Conceptions of Unionism
by Jon Bekken

Business Unionism vs. Revolutionary Unionism
by Dave Neal

Why Does the Union Bureaucracy Exist?
by Tom Wetzel

A “New Labor Movement” in the Shell of the Old?
by Jeremy Brecher & Tim Costello

Labour in Need of Revolutionary Vision
by Jim Selby

Now More than Ever, the Working Class Needs Independent, Democratic Unions
by James Dennis Hoff & Luigi Morris

The Rank and File Strategy
by Kim Moody

The Rank-and-File Strategy is Political
by Jeremy Gong

Answering the Bosses’ Lies About Unions
from Socialist Alternative

The American Utopia of Social Democracy

Utopia literally means ‘no place’ or ‘nowhere’, something that doesn’t exist. That is to say it can’t be found in the here and now. But it doesn’t necessarily mean it never can or will exist, or even that it never existed in the past. As far as that goes, neither does it indicate that it isn’t real somewhere else at the present time. The implication, though, is that it’s somehow impossible, at least in this society or under these conditions.

When one is living in an oppressive society, almost every optimistic alternative seems like a utopia, along with any kind of positive reform or change. And in a sense, they are correct in that, of course, a better society obviously doesn’t exist here and now. If you live in a banana republic like the United States and every day you go to work in the authoritarian and hierarchical bureaucracy of a transnational corporation or something along those lines within capitalist realism, even the most basic of real democracy (i.e., self-governance) — direct participation in, influence over, and control of all aspects of one’s life (society, culture, education, media, economics, politics, etc) — is so utopian as to be barely imaginable.

American reactionaries assume (or pretend to believe) and so argue, conveniently biased by the just world hypothesis, that some combination of social Darwinism, plutocracy, kleptocracy, soft fascism, police statism, military imperialism, and inverted totalitarianism is the best of all possible worlds. They take their interpellated ideological abstractions and reify them as an inevitable ideological realism, simply the way the world is. Then they build a totalizing identity politics upon it, conflating it with human nature and so suppressing all awareness of actual human nature. All of this is bundled together and pushed hard by corporate propaganda, until the population is indoctrinated into despair, apathy, and mindlessness.

Just suck it up, all you snowflakes! Any ideological ideal or system that challenges this fatalistic cynicism is utopianism disconnected from reality as it is. It’s doomed from the start; or if it succeeds in gaining power, it will lead to horrific ends. This is the old, repetitive, and tiresome reactionary rhetoric of perversity, futility, and jeopardy; as outlined by Albert O. Hirschman in his book The Rhetoric of Reaction. It’s how the Burkean moral imagination hobbles radical imagination.

Accordingly, in this iron prison logic of this psychosis, even something as basic as social democracy, where all citizens are taken care of, is not possible here. It may be possible in Nordic and Scandinavian countries or in Japan, the reactionary will grudgingly admit. But they’ll add, with world weariness of hard-earned pessimistic realism, that it’s only because those are small countries with homogeneous populations. The United States is not such a country. Sure, there is a kernel of truth there, but it’s overblown, and ultimately dishonest.

All of those other nation-states, not that far back in history, were riven by warring conflict of regional divides and ethnic tribalism. Their present perceived stability, unity, and homogeneity developed out of past conflict, violence, and diversity. This included centuries and millennia of invasions, conquering, and border changes, along with mass waves of immigrants and refugees. Ethno-nationalist identities are fairly recent inventions (e.g., the Italian state was founded in 1861, at a time when most ‘Italians’ didn’t speak the Italian language, much less identify as ‘Italian’). When ethno-nationalism was first enforced on Europeans in the 18th and 19th centuries, most of the populations clung to local identities of family, kin, and community. It led to a rampant disease that was called ‘nostalgia’, a soul sickness which led conscripted soldiers to sometimes waste away from what at the time was considered a physical illness with its own medical etiology (e.g., brain inflammation).

It wasn’t until the world war era that most Westerners finally came around to more fully identifying with the nation-state. Likewise, patriotism was transformed over time, once having meant proto-leftist solidarity with the people as articulated in the Country Party tradition, and only later being co-opted by reactionaries as a defense of blind allegiance to authoritarian nation-statism. These are some of the many ways that the very foundation of modern reactionary conservatism was built upon the graveyard of traditionalism, the bones of our ancestors made to pantomime reactionary fantasies of a revisionist and anachronistic past, a demented morality play.

It’s interesting to read a supposed utopian story like Island, Aldous Huxley’s last novel, having been published shortly before his death in 1963. When you get at the heart of the society described, it’s basically nothing more than some mix of Anti-Federalism and Radical Whiggism (an ideological tradition passed down from the Country Party), along with social democracy, democratic socialism, and municipal socialism (i.e., sewer socialism), as based on some form of more direct democratic and local self-governance. It also has a thin veneer of anarchist idealism, strangely mixed with the patriotic monarchism in the British imaginary.

In the end, other than being filtered through a Western fantasy of the East, Huxley’s vision of a utopian society is not far off from a number of present well-functioning Western social democracies, if the religious and sexual components are genuinely Eastern. This was actually far easier for a Westerner, particularly in the United States, to imagine when this novel was being written in the 1950s and when it came out in the early 1960s. Though British, Huxley spent the last part of his life in the United States and that had to have shaped his idealism, as that was one of the most idealistic periods in a country that was founded on idealism.

For example, by the 1950s, Milwaukee had a half century of near continuous governance by sewer socialists, both highly successful and highly acclaimed across the country, demonstrably proving that Americans were capable both self-governance and good governance. The popular tv series Happy Days was set in the last years of Milwaukee sewer socialism. There was good reason for why they were so happy, a rare case of genuine nostalgia, but sadly the very narratizing removed the ideological substance of that moral health and public good feeling. That ideological substance was similar to why the mood was so bright elsewhere in the country. The economy was booming and everything was looking up. It helped create a sense of public good, shared fate, and culture of trust.

At the time, McCarthyism was in retreat, progressive policies had lifted up much of the population, social safety nets caught many others from falling through the cracks, progressive taxation redistributed wealth from the super rich to the whole population, higher education was so heavily funded by the government as to be nearly free, inequality and poverty was shrinking as the middle class grew large, labor organizing and power was at its height, the Civil Rights movement was making great strides, numerous inspirational leaders were giving voice to hope, and a large left-wing populist movement was forming nationally.

Multiple presidents from both main parties pushed for and, in some cases nearly passed, what today would be called far left-wing and radically utopian: universal healthcare, universal basic income, etc. Across the entire population, there was a bipartisan sense of so much being possible, that freedom might finally be in the grasp of the American people, after centuries of elite control and oppression. Now something felt different, as old shibboleths were toppled in all directions. In numerous ways, the beginnings of an actual free society was established, even as so much more was held in promise.

Relevant to the discussion here, the 1950s was right in the middle of the American experiment of social democracy. It began to be built with the earlier Populist and Progressive reforms, from Theodore Roosevelt’s monopoly busting to the New Deal(s), Fair Deal, New Frontier, and Great Society. By the 1940s, social democracy was fully established in its basic outline. And then it transformed American society over the following several decades, until being almost entirely dismantled in the 1980s and following (J. Bradford DeLong, Slouching Toward Utopia; Ellen Schrecker, The Lost Promise; etc). Dismantled by the very generations that grew up in and benefited from that social democracy, thus in older age pulling the ladder up behind them; and then scapegoating later generations for American failure.

This is what makes the reactionary charge of utopianism so galling. The United States was the original Scandinavian-style social democracy. Reactionaries can only now call the hope for American social democracy a utopia because they were the ones who destroyed it. Yes, a social democracy no longer exists here and now. But the point is a social democracy did once exist and it is well within living memory. We once were seen worldwide as the leaders of freedom, a shining city on the hill that so many others aspired toward. Ironically, it was the world that Ronald Reagan grew up in and so shaped his optimistic personality. Reagan used progressive rhetoric to attack progressivism, while his neoliberal Reaganomics was the most utopian vision ever to be implemented in US history.

But Reagan was only able to appropriate that sense of hope for cynical purposes because public goodwill was already so well established in public opinion. A large part of the Progressive vision came about from an old streak of moral character in the American people, a continuation of the Spirit of ’76. After all, the first social democratic ideas were voiced by the revolutionary generation, such as Thomas Paine’s citizens dividend and Thomas Jefferson’s proposal to equalize the distribution of land. But later on in the 20th century, it also helped to have had the enemy of the Nazis and then the Stalinists, the former having made bigotry so distasteful and the latter having shamed Americans into living up to their own idealism. This gave the radical left leverage to create a more fair and just society.

Sadly, that world is largely gone. And the memory of it is quickly fading, if fortunately many on the left are trying to keep the flame alive. The point is the sense of loss, taken advantage of by dark personality demagogues in fueling the reactionary mind, is very much real. We Americans have lost something and we should be outraged at those who have done us wrong — the American Dream was stolen, not merely lost. But in acknowledging that, we should avoid the trap of revisionist history that seeks to erase the past as it once was. You want to make America great again? Well, in that case, good ol’ fashioned American social democracy would be a good place to start.

Francis Fukuyama on Neoliberalism and Liberalism

There is always confusion about ideology, particularly liberalism in a liberal age. Everything becomes conflated with liberalism, often in distorted ways. Even many conservatives call themselves classical liberals, conveniently ignoring early liberals like Thomas Paine who, as egalitarian proto-leftists, often were radicals, rabblerousers, and revolutionaries. But it might be fair for conservatives to also claim a liberalism of sorts, since they obviously don’t want to be openly identified with classical conservatism: colonial imperialism, neo-feudalism, neo-monarchism, neo-aristocracy, land theft, genocide, slavery, indentured servitude, white supremacy, etc; whatever they may, in many cases, genuinely support (e.g., theocracy) but won’t acknowledge. Indeed, one might argue that every modern Westerner to some degree is a liberal at this point, because so much is framed and defined by it, be it progressive or reactionary. As often noted, the average conservative today is more liberal than the average liberal was a century ago (e.g., majority support and mainstream acceptance, even among Republicans, for same sex marriage).

Besides, there never has been a single liberalism. That insight is something many are beginning to struggle with. In a review of a recent book by Francis Fukuyama, Aaron Irion discusses liberalism and gives an overview of Fukuyama’s take on it without once mentioning conservatism (Maladapted Liberalism: A Review of Francis Fukuyama’s Liberalism and its Discontents). The thing is that Fukuyama’s so-called End of History wasn’t a general triumph of liberalism but specifically of neoliberalism, which in the U.S. is identified with the political right as economic conservatism, most infamously as Reaganomics (Starve the Beast, Two Santa Claus Theory, military largesse, creation of the permanent national debt, defunding public good, deregulation, plutocratic tax breaks, corporate subsidies, etc). It’s true that such neoliberalism has also taken over the Democratic Party, but we should honestly admit that the liberalism of the American majority is much further left, specifically about economics, in being less forgiving toward the neoliberal dominance of corporate capitalism and globalized plutocracy, not to mention still supportive of interventionist progressivism (American Leftist Supermajority).

The original neoliberals were FDR Progressives who lost faith in democratic processes, politics, and policies, especially the prioritizing of public good, and so most of them became Republicans and joined right-wing think tanks. Possibly a few well-intentioned idealists aside, most of them saw capitalist realism and corporate rule of the world as their new salvation, with democracy as a mere rhetorical flourish and side effect. It is one of the more illiberal forms of liberalism, that is to say only liberal at surface level and maybe not even that. One could, nonetheless, accept neoliberalism as a genuine kind of liberalism. It echoes the anti-leftist hyper-individualism that, in gaining power during the Cold War, sought to disempower and disenfranchise the political so as to usurp all power within the economic sphere and hence to have corporate-controlled markets replace democracy proper. This has involved two ideas: (1) spending money is voting with one’s dollars; and the corollary (2) money is speech. But what it ignores, as Corey Robin noted, is that “the implication for democracy is clear. There can be no democracy in the political sphere unless there is equality in the economic sphere” (The real problem of Clarence Thomas).

That is the ultimate test. The political right typically won’t denounce democracy entirely, although the early classical conservatives did so quite vociferously. To attack democracy directly these days is politically incorrect and shameful, and hence political suicide. No politician would ever get elected, not even in reactionary America, if they explicitly stated they were anti-democratic. So, instead, the reactionary right will claim to be for democracy, sometimes claiming to be the ‘Real Liberals’; but their purpose is to co-opt democratic rhetoric in order to defang democracy itself, to eliminate it as an effective possibility. Tellingly, neoliberals who want supposed ‘free markets’ to replace democratic politics don’t actually want freedom in markets either. They go bonkers if it’s suggested that markets and workplaces should be democratized, the only way that freedom could operate. As Robin suggests, economic democracy may be more directly important than political democracy, as leftists have long understood that power comes from those controlling material conditions and the means of production; hence the close link between social democracy and democratic socialism.

There is no such thing as limited democracy; no way to have partial self-governance, partial slave abolition, partial suffrage, partial civil rights, partial secularism, partial public good, etc. Either there is democracy in all areas and in all ways or there is no democracy at all. A free market is only actually free if everyone operating within it and affected by it is equally and effectively free (i.e., positive freedom). And such freedom, or lack thereof, is experienced personally and daily. Most people aren’t actively and explicitly involved in politics on a regular basis but almost everyone is constantly and obviously affected by economics every time they go to work and go to the store. But in the end, there is no separation between the economy and politics. Democracy is an entire culture of trust, a way of being and relating. Left-liberalism has always sought a balance between individual liberty and collective action, between private rights and public good. “Perhaps, if we all embrace something like the Last Man inside ourselves, devote ourselves to the struggle, to the hard work of moderation that it’ll require,” as Aaron Irion concludes, “we can struggle not against liberalism, but for a better liberalism and a better world.” That is the only honest issue to be debated.

For Fukuyama, once an advocate of neoliberalism, he has become one of its greatest critics and now largely, if not entirely, points in the opposite direction. In an interview with Sergio C. Fanjul, Fukuyama said that, “I was never opposed to social democracy. I think that it really depends on the historical period and the degree of state intervention. By the 1960s, many social democratic societies had become mired in low growth [and] high inflation. At that point, I think it was important to roll some of that back. That is, in fact, what happened in Scandinavia. Most of those countries reduced tax rates, reduced levels of regulation and therefore became more productive. But I think that in the current period, we need more social democracy, especially in the United States. We still don’t have universal health care, which I think is ridiculous for a rich country, a rich democratic country. My attitude towards social democracy really depends on what period you’re talking about and what country you’re talking about” (Francis Fukuyama: ‘The neoliberals went too far. Now, we need more social democratic policies’).

Social democracy is central to a liberal society. Such a society can only be created through active support, promotion, and defense. All liberal societies,” Fukuyama continues, “have to [be able to] preserve their own institutions. When you get a political party, for example, that is anti-democratic or anti-liberal, that, if it gains power, it’s going to shut down freedom of expression, not going to permit future democratic elections and so forth, a liberal society has the right to defend itself. […] A liberal society must [have the ability] to protect itself from illiberal forces. […] The most severe one is from a resurgent populist nationalism that’s represented by Orbán in Hungary, by Erdoğan in Turkey, by Modi in India, by Donald Trump in the United States. All of these people were legitimately elected… but they use their legitimacy to threaten illiberal institutions. They want to eliminate the independent court system, they want to shut down opposition media, they [weaponize] the justice system to go after their political opponents.” The one and only thing liberalism can’t tolerate is intolerance. Yet the American right has always been fundamentally opposed to tolerance, as it has fought against social democracy.

So, where does Fukuyama’s ideal of ‘moderation’ fit in. Is he suggesting moderation between a fascist elite and a neoliberal elite, or rather moderation between the left-liberal majority and all the elites combined? This may be where Fukuyama stumbles, as maybe he remains anti-populist, paternalistic, and elitist in his wariness toward actual democratic self-governance. His state of confusion, unfortunately common among the elite, leads him to carry forward some of the illiberal views of democracy he held as a neoliberal. Sergio C. Fanjul asked him, “Are liberalism and democracy always fellow travellers?” His answer was that, “They are allies and they support each other, but they don’t necessarily have to exist at the same time. Orbán wants an illiberal democracy, with elections, but without freedom of the press or belief or free opposition. There are also liberal societies without democracy, like Singapore: there is individual freedom, but there are no elections.” *Sigh* There is no such thing as illiberal democracy or non-democratic liberalism. The former is a banana republic, with appearances of democracy only. And the latter is simply Confucian patriarchy and paternalism.

Liberalism and democracy are something else entirely, as expressions of freedom, egalitarianism, and justice; the complete opposite of social conservatism, right-wing authoritarianism, and social dominance orientation. The difficulty might be that liberal democracy, as rhetoric and reality, can seem unsexy and unexciting. In fact, to the reactionary mind and anyone under stress pulled into the reactionary, it comes across as downright boring (Boredom in the Mind: Liberals and Reactionaries). “Fukuyama makes clear,” Irion writes in reference to Fukuyama’s 1990s vision of the ‘Last Man’, “that liberalism may not remain unchallenged. In his telling at the time, liberalism brings peace, stability, and prosperity, but humans may struggle against it anyway. If for no other reason than “a certain boredom,” a desire to “struggle for the sake of struggle” and prove to themselves that they remain free, that they “remain human beings.”” It’s more than possible that Fukuyama too finds it a bit boring, in now giving a weak defense. Only the radical imagination, in narratizing new and inspiring visions, can inoculate against such moral ennui.

* * *

Francis Fukuyama Plays Defense
by Krithika Varagur

For Fukuyama, the big surprise of liberalism’s trajectory after the Cold War has been the scope and impact of neoliberalism—the free-market reforms of deregulation, privatization, and austerity that began in earnest in the nineteen-seventies. He believes that neoliberalism, as opposed to classical liberalism, has tanked liberalism’s reputation among young people today. Although many neoliberal policies started half a century ago, their effects, like excessive inequality and financial instability, are more plainly visible to him now.

Neoliberalism is not a complete theory of justice, morals, or the good life but a narrower set of ideas about political and economic institutions, and how they should work in the service of free markets. It emerged, in Fukuyama’s account, as a valid reaction to bloated mid-century welfare states in the U.S. and Europe, but was then “pushed to a counterproductive extreme.” Internationally, institutions like the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank sought to undo capital controls in many other countries, triggering financial crises with “alarming regularity.” Some neoliberal reformers in the U.S. and abroad also rolled back the social-welfare policies that had improved their fellow-citizens’ quality of life. Fukuyama writes all this off as an anomalous hijacking of liberal principles: “Liberalism properly understood is compatible with a wide range of social protections provided by the state.”

But is neoliberalism really separable from what Fukuyama dubs classical liberalism? The distinction has long been fuzzy; the twentieth-century Austrian economist Friedrich Hayek, for one, was both a vocal defender of classical liberalism and a co-founder of the Mont Pelerin Society, the international neoliberal forum, in 1947. And Fukuyama stumbles in characterizing neoliberalism as liberal individualism pushed to right-wing extremes. As the historian Quinn Slobodian has argued, the pioneers of neoliberalism were not focussed on individuals’ rights; they were concerned, primarily, with the institutions of markets. Neoliberalism has not only been about tearing down regulations so that people can buy things more freely but about actively building and reinforcing institutions, like the World Trade Organization, that insulate markets around the world from the vagaries of nation-states and democracies.

After five decades of privatization and austerity around the world, it is nearly impossible to picture any liberal democracy today without its neoliberal institutions. And Fukuyama doesn’t really try, offering only a tepid suggestion to redistribute some wealth in order to offset inequality “at a sustainable level, where [social protections] do not undercut incentives and can be supported by public finance on a long-term basis.” (A colleague of Kristol’s riffed that a neoliberal is “a liberal who got mugged by reality, but has refused to press charges.”) After reading Fukuyama’s chapter on neoliberalism, it becomes clear that the task ahead for liberals isn’t more abstract argumentation but, rather, devising practical ways to curb the regulations and bodies that push democracies to serve markets instead of their citizens.

But Fukuyama has been anticipating certain other problems with liberalism for decades. In “The End of History and the Last Man,” he wondered whether, even after the collapse of rival ideologies like communism, liberalism might contain the seeds of its own decline. “Could we assume that successful democratic societies could remain that way indefinitely? Or is liberal democracy prey to serious internal contradictions, contradictions so serious that they will eventually undermine it as a political system?” Fukuyama wrote, presciently, in 1992. At the time, he concluded that it did not—but he did accurately identify several sore spots: liberal societies tended to “atomize and separate people,” were deleterious to community life, and would continue to harbor inequality. What he had underestimated was the extent to which liberal societies could breed hyper-individualistic consumers, obsessed with “self-actualization” and identity at the expense of politics and public-spiritedness.

Fukuyama is clearly flummoxed by the scale at which these threats have escalated. And he tries to make sense of it by briefly turning the floor over to communitarian critics of liberalism, who grasped such issues much earlier. In doing so, he retraces a major debate of the nineteen-eighties, which followed John Rawls’s seminal liberal treatise, “A Theory of Justice,” from 1971. While Rawlsian liberalism posits that humans are fundamentally autonomous, communitarians like Michael Sandel, Alasdair MacIntyre, and Michael Walzer argue that they are fundamentally shaped by their communities. And whereas liberalism protects individuals’ rights to choose their own versions of the good life, the communitarians countered that states or other communities should take an active role in shaping a common good. Such arguments have recently returned to the public sphere, from both the left and right. They touch a nerve for many in the U.S., who, despite living in the world’s richest country, may still feel they lack community, shared values, or hopeful future.

Fukuyama scrupulously entertains several communitarian critiques, and even repudiates Rawls for his “elevation of choice over all other human goods.” But he never convincingly accounts for the social and moral voids that plague today’s liberal societies. He turns instead to a taxonomy of “thick” and “thin” political visions. (These terms were also trotted out in earlier liberal-communitarian debates; Walzer wrote a book titled “Thick and Thin,” in 1994.) “Successful liberal societies have their own culture and understanding of the good life, even if that vision may be thinner than those offered by societies bound by a single religious doctrine,” Fukuyama writes. He finds the conservative critique that liberal societies “provide no strong common moral horizon around which community can be built” to be “true enough,” but struggles to come up with ways to “reimpose a thicker moral order.” Wearily, he concludes that this “thinness” is a “feature and not a bug” of life under liberalism.

Were Fukuyama really hoping to convince the skeptics, he could have easily reached within liberalism’s own history for examples of how it can enrich, rather than erode, the social fabric. In late-nineteenth- and early-twentieth-century England, the liberalisms expounded by reformist economists like William Beveridge and J. A. Hobson helped establish the modern welfare state, as the Oxford scholar Michael Freeden has shown. For them, liberalism was not just about protecting free choice but also about actively generating the conditions for individuals to flourish. In the U.S., Progressive-era liberals like Herbert Croly, who co-founded The New Republic, in 1914. saw liberalism as about more than abstract equal rights; it was also about concrete things like higher wages and a social safety net.

Rather than showing how such visions of welfare have been part and parcel of liberal democracies, Fukuyama avers only that liberal democracies “remain superior to the illiberal alternatives.” Alternatives from the left are largely reduced to caricature; Fukuyama’s bogeymen of a “progressive post-liberal society” include the evaporation of national borders, “essentially meaningless” citizenship, and “anarchist” rule along the lines of the short-lived autonomous zones that arose in Seattle and Portland in the summer of 2020. Having summoned such stand-ins for the left on one end, and the more obviously undesirable spectre of right-wing illiberalism on the other, Fukuyama absolves himself from having to truly confront the social and material deprivation of liberalism’s subjects.

Constitutionalism: Elitism Versus Populism

The following is part of a CUNY talk about American democracy, as moderated by Katrina vanden Heuvel. In the section shared below, Corey Robin answers a question about the Supreme Court. He talks about the relatively recent change in how the Court is expected to be the official interpreter of the Constitution, something the Anti-Federalists feared would happen, in their defense of true federalism. It’s the accrual of centralized power.

What Robin calls populist or interdepartmental constitutionalism is what’s more commonly known as living constitutionalism, the great enemy of conservatives. As part of the Anglo-American tradition, it comes out of Quaker constitutionalism; in which a constitution is believed to be a living covenant between a living God and a living generation of a specific community of people. That is how Anti-Federalists treated any public document as the basis of governance.

The Quaker-raised John Dickinson wrote the draft of the Articles of Confederation, what was the first constitution of the United States of America; literally describing a confederation of independent and autonomous nation-states. As a living constitution, it was not considered to be written in stone, to be submissively worshipped as a holy text. Under the Articles, any generation of any of the nation-states could at any moment rescind their consent to be governed by it. What was freely given could be freely taken back.

Following Robin’s comments, Jamelle Bouie added some thoughts. He did reference the Anti-Federalist criticism of bowing down to the dead hand of corpses; i.e., the written word of documents and laws treated as absolute, infallible, and unchanging, as if they were divine authority. He also made the Anti-Federalist argument that the constitution, like the government, is made to serve the people; not the other way around. But interestingly, neither Robin nor Jamelle even once mentioned the Anti-Federalists.

Democratic self-governance is the “mother principle” of republicanism, and hence the reason the constitutional order failed from the beginning, as having replaced the Anti-Federalist principles of the Articles. Such was the retrospective judgment according to Thomas Jefferson, writing in 1816 (“You’re the only people alive on the earth today.”). The Spirit of ’76 didn’t survive in the Constitution, as a piece of paper, but in the “in the spirit of our people” and in the “will of the people.”

Today, this way of thinking is mostly limited to the political left. Whereas the right, in their historical ignorance and amnesia, claim that living constitutionalism is unAmerican. In fact, this is the original intent of the original founding documents; the Declaration of Independence written by the Anti-Federalist Thomas Jefferson (influenced by his Anti-Federalist friend Thomas Paine); and the Quaker-inspired Articles of Confederation that was revised by Anti-Federalists. Robin and Jamelle suggest that we should return to our American roots.

Of course, that is a challenging prospect. The Anti-Federalist vision has always been central to American culture, as informing and inspiring the public mind and imagination. Those like Paine and Jefferson thought governance should be direct and local, as close to the people as possible. But neither of the main parties any longer consistently represent this.

Still, there are recent examples that demonstrate Anti-Federalism in action. It is Anti-Federalist when state governments legalize or decriminalize marijuana usage, while the national government enforces a war on drugs. It is Anti-Federalist when local governments declare themselves a Sanctuary City and refuse to cooperate with ICE agents. This is the people and their most immediate representatives challenging the constitutional order, those who interpret it, and those who enforce those interpretations.

This is an old conflict. Many early revolts were about constitutional issues. The Anti-Federalists were all about the problems of taxation without representation; and in fact fewer Americans had a political franchise after the ratification of the Constitution than under the British Empire. This is what motivated such things as Shays Rebellion, in refusing to submit to what was unconstitutional under the prior Articles of Confederation. And when slaves revolted, again and again, they were refusing and refuting the entire basis of slavery explicitly written into the Constitution. Their interpretation was to claim freedom.

There are more mundane examples or at least ones that don’t involve violence, just plain civil disobedience at a community level. When states first passed abortion bans in the late 1800s to early 1900s, many city and county authorities refused to enforce these laws and doctors continued the practice according to local consent and custom. At the time, there was no constitutional decision on the matter, certainly not by the Supreme Court. But it was about the constitutional order, about at what level should such decisions be made.

Each state has its own constitution, after all. And maybe even cities should have constitutions. Jefferson thought that not only the national government but also the state governments were too distant from the people, who should be able to easily and quickly travel to participate in direct self-governance; think of New England town hall democracy. Even many counties were too large for Jefferson’s taste. Basically, democracy is first and foremost about a community of people. Jefferson may have been taking this inclination to an extreme, but one has to admit that the most well functioning democracies typically are tiny countries, smaller than most U.S. states.

In the broad sense of constitutionalism as a living agreement of a living generation, it’s simply what we’ve collectively agreed upon and continue to consent to, whether or not it’s ever been written down and formalized as a law-like document. Even the U.S. Constitution has no direct legal authority, as its more of a patriotic mission statement, a public declaration of shared ideals and principles, commitments and aspirations. It only gains legalistic force with interpretation, upon which laws are written or rationalized.

Also in line with communal civil disobedience, a specific historical case involved Prohibition, definitely a case of the national government and one of the earliest enactments of the war on drugs. In Templeton, Iowa, the local population was close-knit, largely an ethnic immigrant population from the same area of Europe. They were known for making the whiskey called Templeton Rye, and they had no interest in stopping; in fact, they continued to do so right out in the open.

So, they avoided moving their product across the county line and certainly not getting anywhere near the state line, instead having the Mafia do the transportation for them. This kept it a problem of local law enforcement and courts, and hence out of the hands of the Feds. What this meant is that any Templeton resident who was caught and brought up on charges would simply face a jury of his or her peers in that county; that is to say their family, friends, and neighbors would determine their fate. This loyal community repeatedly refused to prosecute, and maintained this stance until Prohibition ended.

This was one of the original reasons for a jury of peers, as a last option of veto power. The Anti-Federalists got their love of a jury of peers from the Country Party ideology of the Radical Whigs. It was an old stopgap on abusive power and overreach. It may be a ruling elite who passes and enacts the laws, but it is the people who hold the final judgment in enforcement. In that context, it becomes apparent the unconstitutional danger of secret prisons and courts (e.g., Gitmo).

What is constitutional, in how the ruling elite interpret it, depends on how far the powerful think they can go, what they try to get away with, and what they are allowed to get away with. The constitution is always under negotiation and that is determined also by how much push back is given not only from local governments but, more importantly, from the people. If the people refuse to cooperate and assent, then there is no constitutional order.

That is how constitutional interpretation happens in the real world, but it’s rarely acknowledged and so remains invisible. Those in power don’t want we the people to know we have final veto power on all constitutional decisions. If we refuse to accept our responsibility as the self-governed, then our consent to be governed means nothing, other than fear of punishment if we don’t obey. This is why the ruling elite find it necessary to use propagandistic media to suppress and silence the leftist moral supermajority, since there is so much Americans wouldn’t tolerate if they realized most other Americans also opposed it.

Such a docile population wasn’t the aspiration of the Anti-Federalists. Jefferson assumed, or rather hoped, that every generation would have its own constitution, and that before long there would already have been multiple constitutions as has been the case in many other Western democracies. There is no such thing as a constitution for all time, one ring to rule them all. Even our present Constitution is jerry-rigged and, in endless ways, contradicts or overturns any number of the various original intents as espoused by various American revolutionaries, founders, and signers.

Effectively, it’s no longer the same constitution, with an overlay of numerous numerous changes through amendments, precedents, and interpretations. And the only power it holds over us is our own interpretation of it. The question is are we freely choosing our constitutional order, through conscious intent, or have we simply been indoctrinated into mindless and cowardly submission. Whatever is the case, the moral responsibility remains in our own hands, we the people, we the living generation.

* * *

Corey Robin:

“There’s been a sea change among progressives in their attitude towards the [Supreme] Court. And I think it’s also generational, actually. I just think among people who are younger than my generation [GenX], it’s much more intuitive that the Supreme is not the friend of freedom, which was not at all the case when I was growing up. There were still those tailwinds from the Warren Court that I think continued up until rulings on gay marriage and all the rest.

“But there are two issues. One is the idea that the Supreme Court is the supreme interpreter of the Constitution. That was up until, again, the Cold War actually, a very contested idea in American politics. Jefferson, Lincoln, FDR, they didn’t — although they were careful not to act against the court, they never accepted in public discourse, in political discourse what both Dwight D. Eisenhower and John F. Kennedy said, which is: It is the job of the Supreme Court to interpret the Constitution and for us to accept the Supreme Court’s ruling. That’s a pretty recent thing.

“So, I think the first thing we have to really try to unpack and get our heads around is what used to be called a kind of either popular constitutionalism or interdepartmental constitutionalism, that we have a system where many different political actors and citizens are in a position to interpret the Constitution. And many of the great reforms of the Progressive era, the wave of constitutional amendments or Reconstruction, that was on the wave of decades of popular agitation, of people reclaiming the definition of the Constitution from the Court; and I think that’s really important.

“And the second thing, I would say, because the first thing is not that controversial anymore. Willie Forbath and Joseph Fishkin had a book last year called The Anti-Oligarchy Constitution. And one of the very persuasive arguments they made is that the real moments of constitutional reform — the big one is Reconstruction, and in the Progressive era there was women’s right to vote, income tax, reform of the Senate, and one other which I’ve forgotten — there was not only a popular constitutionalism, there was an understanding of the relationship between the Constitution and political economy.

“We have gotten into a very strange mode in this country, and I think this is unfortunately the result of the Warren Court and the New Deal where we think of the Constitution and the Court as this, insofar as it is concerned with rights and freedoms, it’s about the rights of the dissenting minorities, the rights of racial minorities, the rights of individuals, and so forth. But if you look at Reconstruction in particular, there was a real sense that what those amendments were about was toppling a racial oligarchy that was supported by all these oligarchic institutions in the economy; and that you need to unite a vision of political economy and the Constitution if you want to have a hope of engendering a popular constitutionalism.

“And one of my concerns during the Trump era was that respect the norms and these kinds of… which we don’t hear much anymore… but I don’t think you can get very far engendering a belief in constitutionalism. I don’t want to say the Constitution ’cause it’s a bit of a disaster. But in constitutionalism, if people aren’t connecting it to the kinds of things that Jamelle was talking about at the beginning about democracy, being a form of collective self-governance and that speaks to the concerns of everyday life.”

Henry Fairlie’s Toryism, the Good King, and the People

“The king and the people against the barons and the capitalists.” That is the motto of the Tories, according to Henry Fairlie; or at least what he claimed Toryism used to represent for centuries until the Thatcher era. In this formula, the king was seen as representing the entire country and population, not merely one sector such as the ruling and economic elite. The monarchy was perceived, if a romantic conceit, as above petty and corrupt realpolitik. This goes hand in hand with the ideals of noblesse oblige, that with power comes responsibility; having informed early modern ideals of an enlightened ruling elite. Such an image of the monarchy was taken seriously by the recently deceased Queen Elizabeth II who strove to maintain a clear divide between the Crown and all else, signifying that which is morally superior and lasting. Though an obvious myth in practice, it stands in for an ancient impulse toward a good society maintained by a righteous leadership (e.g., King Arthur, as the good ruler who brings healing to the land).

Fairlie was a respected, if not respectable, British journalist and essayist who ended up in the United States; most famous for having coined ‘the Establishment’ (sadly, later reappropriated by Margaret Thatcher, someone he despised). He might be considered ‘conservative’-like by bent, but decried modern conservatives, particularly in his adoptive home; which is precisely why he was an advocate, albeit cautious, of liberal reform. This is partly clarified by High Toryism, as traditional communitarianism, that resists the modernizing force of conservatism, while upholding certain Country Party positions (e.g., opposition to a standing army); a similar distinction Corey Robin makes in describing conservatives as anti-traditional reactionaries. Fairlie pointed out that the Tory tradition was lacking in America, and that so-called conservatives were a sorry replacement.

He hated Ronald Regan, of course, without any quibbling: “the Reaganites on the floor were exactly those who in Germany gave the Nazis their main strength and who in France collaborated with them and sustained Vichy” (‘Mencken’s Booboisie in Control of the GOP’, Bite the Hand That Feeds You). But it was far from limited to Reagan Republicans. Describing American conservatism as “narrow-minded and selfish and mean-spirited,” he explained that, “This is one reason, although it is by no means the only one, why the English Tory feels at home with the Democratic Party, while the Republican party fills him with a puzzlement that gives way to desperation and at last to contempt” (‘In Defense of Big Government’, Bite the Hand That Fees You). That was written in 1976, years before Reagan remade the Grand Old Party into a capitalist whorehouse, although likely Fairlie’s mood was shadowed by the fall of Richard Nixon and Saigon; a low point for Republican pride. Imagine what Fairlie would’ve thought of Donald Trump’s presidency, likely saddened but not surprised.

He wasn’t merely attacking American pseudo-conservatism, for he had his own ideals rooted in British conservatism or rather traditionalism, as he may have felt the word ‘conservative’ had lost its value or else never had any value. “The characteristics of the Tory, which separate him from the conservative,” he wrote in that same essay, “may briefly be summarized: 1) his almost passionate belief in strong central government, which has of course always been the symbolic importance to him of the monarchy; 2) his detestation of ‘capitalism,’ of what Cardinal Newman and T.S. Eliot called ‘ursury,’ of what he himself calls ‘trade’; and 3) his trust in the ultimate good sense of the People, whom he capitalizes in this way, because the People are a real entity to him, beyond social and economic divisions, and whom he believes can be appealed to and relied on, as the final repository of decency in a free nation.” It is because of these defining traits that it’s “not unnatural that he [the Tory] often feels inclined, and in the past 150 years has often shown his inclination, to seek his allies among the Socialists.” Timothy Noah, who knew him, said that, this “description puts Tories well to the left of today’s Democratic Party, particularly when it comes to health reform” (Henry Fairlie, Health Maven).

Indeed, there have been numerous examples of Tory socialists without contradiction (related to the Red Tories that have influenced the Canadian Conservative Party to accept social reform and the welfare state, which makes one think of Abraham Lincoln’s Red Republicans that included Marxists). One might argue that socialism, specifically democratic socialism, is the inevitable or likely culmination of Toryism; if by Toryism we mean holding the public good, the commonweal above all else. According to Fairlie, the problem with American politics is not the threat of left-wing radicalism like socialism but, rather, the wrong kind of socialism. Noting the pervasive power of big government, including in protecting and subsidizing big business, he shared the argument that everyone is now a socialist. It’s just a matter of whether socialism serves the people or the plutocracy.

Modern government stands in for the role once played by the monarchy. So, is it the king and the people against the landed gentry or, instead, the king and the landed gentry against the people? In either case, it is ‘strong government’, as Fairlie put it. He concluded that, “it is time that it was acknowledged that there are now only two choices […] There is no longer a third way.” This is among the oldest of conflicts. Is the government legitimate and, if so, who does it serve? The determining factor, to his mind, was democracy. “It is time that we pointed out to the neo-conservatives that democracy has never been subverted from the left but always from the right. No democracy has fallen to communism, without an army; many democracies have fallen to fascism, from within” (‘Mencken’s Booboisie in Control of the GOP’, Bite the Hand That Feeds You).

To give an American example along the lines of ‘king and the people’, think about how Theodore Roosevelt styled his own presidency. With a genuine sense of noblesse oblige as part of old wealth, he saw his election as giving him the authority to paternalistically act on behalf of the American people and the public good. He not only broke up monopolistic trusts but ensured new ones wouldn’t form, in spite of knowing that it would destroy his political career, as doing right was more important; he aspired to be an enlightened aristocrat, achieving the natural aristocracy and disinterested aristocracy idealized by some in the revolutionary generation, the belief that the independently wealthy could resist the corruption of wealth and so rule fairly and wisely (a distorted version of this ideal was used by Donald Trump). When one robber baron sought Roosevelt’s help in building a transcontinental railroad where every aspect would be owned by him, he denied federal intervention to make it possible because that would give too much power to a single private corporation, potentially greater power than the government itself in being able to control transportation, trade, and hence entire markets across the entire country. In a democratic republic, nothing should be more powerful than the government that serves the people.

That first Roosevelt presidency comes close to Fairlie’s Toryism. The only other Republican president who may have approximated his ideological standards, as a ‘good king’, would’ve been Abraham Lincoln (The Social Importance of Morality Tales); although admittedly Lincoln was rather Whiggish in being in favor of laissez faire capitalism and in being rather corporate friendly. Fairlie wanted a Toryism for the country he came to admire in so many other ways. But is the Tory spirit really foreign to America? Does it need to be introduced by a well-meaning British immigrant? One might argue that we simply need to resurrect America’s own origins. After all, we were British colonies almost as long as we’ve been a separate country. Echoes of Elizabethan English (Queen Elizabeth I) is no longer heard in England and yet persists here in America (e.g., y’all from ye all). Maybe much else persists, if we simply dug a little deeper.

What Fairlie so highly praised might be found precisely where the elite rarely look, in public opinion (American Leftist Supermajority). Going by his definition, one could argue the majority of Americans are Fairlien Tories, with no small inclination toward democratic socialism or else social democracy — Americans haven’t lost faith in the need for good governance, as public polling shows, even as they’ve lost trust in a government that has been corrupted. Maybe this has always been present in the American people, but it was submerged below the bickering of the elite one-party state with two right wings. As Thomas Jefferson came to believe in his elderhood, though the constitutional experiment had failed right from the beginning, the spirit of democratic republicanism lived on in the people (“You’re the only people alive on the earth today.”). That is to suggest that likely more Americans agreed (and still agree) with Fairlie than he realized.

What is this spirit of the people? It is none other than the Spirit of ’76, the revolutionary impulse. To bring things back around, it’s telling that the first instinct many American colonists had, in being oppressed, was to appeal to the king in the hope he would intervene and defend the people against the arrogance of a power-mongering Parliament. Sadly, this was a misunderstanding of the times. Even if King George III wanted to help, which he didn’t, the position of the monarchy had been defanged during the Glorious Revolution. There was no powerful king to stand up to a self-dealing aristocracy and plutocracy, the two beginning to overlap since the establishment of the English East India Company in 1600; later to become the infamous British East India Company that was the greatest foe of the colonists. That is why early American laws placed such stringent restrictions on corporate charters; only to be given to organizations to serve the public interest (infrastructure building, hospital management, etc); and generally to not last beyond the project’s completion or within a single generation, as defined by twenty years. But let’s step back, many centuries.

This failure of the monarchy to live up to the Tory ideal of a united front, the king and the people, was nothing new. During the English Peasants’ Revolt of 1381, the peasants and their allies among the lower classes had, in seizing London, effectively taken hostage King Richard II. But they didn’t want to control the king, only to be heard by him. They thought the corrupt courtly advisers, not unlike J. R. R. Tolkien’s Gríma Wormtongue, were whispering lies into his ears; that if only he heard the truth, he would be won over to their cause. The king, under duress, agreed to their demands of justice and fairness but never honored them, after his troops regained control. The rebels were punished and killed for their efforts. Maybe in having learned this lesson, the next major populist revolt, the more successful English Civil War (AKA Wars of the Three Kingdoms), ended by beheading the king. From one revolt to the next, there was an emerging class consciousness amidst a worsening class war; with egalitarian rhetoric already heard in the 14th century and becoming proto-leftist leveling ideology by the 17th.

The political form this anti-corruption movement eventually took was the aforementioned Country Party, in opposition to the Court Party. The Country Party originated as “a coalition of Tories and disaffected Whigs,” more of a movement than an organized party, having “claimed to be a nonpartisan force fighting for the nation’s interest—the whole “country”—against the self-interested actions of the Court Party, that is the politicians in power in London” (Wikipedia, Country Party (Britain)). Interestingly, the opposition to a ruling elite didn’t form earlier because the aristocracy was still associated with feudal communalism, as distinct from royal officials. But such a distinction became moot over time, as later on the lords spent more of their time not at their estates near their feudal villages, but in the palace and the surroundings of London — a disruptive change detailed by Barbara Ehrenreich’s Dancing in the Streets. Yet the memory of the feudal intimacy between aristocracy and peasantry was still strong enough in the colonies that the two did unite in a common revolution, as they did in France as well. One might note, though, that there is a reason the main leaders of the American Revolution were country gentlemen from Virginia, still acting as paternalistic feudal lords, and not courtly gentlemen from South Carolina, the latter of which spent most of their time in Charleston when not in London.

The funny thing is how the monarchy became symbolic. When the American revolutionaries sought the king as an intercessor, following the example of the 14th century peasants, they were invoking the monarchy as representing English ethno-nationalism. What they were really demanding, at first, was the rights of Englishmen as citizens of England and subjects of the British Empire. The king as ruler of it all symbolized this sense of being part of the English populace, even as many American colonists had never set foot in England, along with many others not being of English ancestry at all. It was an imaginary identity and powerful at that. Likewise, the actual king himself was ultimately irrelevant for, if the king did not represent the people and the country, then he was no king of worth by definition of this Tory principle. This was seen in the English Civil War, “such was the popularity of the monarchy that this was the ground on which it was fought, even when they got to the point of trying and cutting off the head of the king, they really told everyone that they were fighting for monarchy” (The Jim Rutt Show, Transcript of EP 160 – Curtis Yarvin on Monarchy in the U.S.A.). The monarchy was a way of speaking about legitimate government as ultimate authority — actual monarchs be damned!

This is the background to Fairlie’s Toryism. He doesn’t mention a Country Party because, “The ideology of the party faded away in England but became a powerful force in the American colonies, where its tracts strongly motivated the Patriots to oppose what the Country Party had cast as British monarchical tyranny and to develop a powerful political philosophy of republicanism in the United States” (Wikipedia). So, of course, he didn’t find Toryism, per se, in America. British Toryism and the Anglo-American Country Party parted ways, but retained their shared origin in historical influence. It quickly gets confusing, though, since initially the Country Party in England was identified with Whigs, not Tories or rather only some of the latter: “Country party, which came ultimately to embrace radical Whigs and reconstructed ‘Tories'” (David McNally, “Scientific Whiggism”: Smith’s Political Philosophy, Political Economy and the Rise of Capitalism). The Toryism of that era (1670-80s) was for the divine right of kings, rather than a constitutional monarchy; and hence there was not necessarily Fairlie’s Tory alliance of king and the people; but it could be found in the Whig Party. The more respectable Whigs, however, dissociated themselves from these Country tendencies; and by the early 18th century the Whigs were now the Court Party; though the Whigs came back around to Country ideology later on.

It’s important to note, though, that in the Exclusion Crisis of the late 17th century the Tories and Whigs may not have indicated any coherent set of ideologies, still less consistent membership. The two sides were often using similar rhetoric, such as Tories likewise turning to populist appeals and fears. Jonathan Scott wrote: “there were no whig and tory ‘parties’ in 1678-83 partly because the ‘whig’ (anti-court) majority of 1678-80, and the ‘tory’ (loyalist) majority of 1681-1683 were mostly the same people. … From 1678 to 1683 people remained convinced of an imminent threat to the church and government; in 1681 they changed their minds about where the greatest threat was coming from” (quoted by Tim Harris in: Party Turns? Or, Whigs and Tories Get Off Scott Free; & Politics under the Later Stuarts: Party Conflict in a Divided Society 1660-1715). And: “What must be noted behind this consistency of rhetoric is the consistency of its constituency. In both cases we are dealing with a majority of the political nation. The rhetoric was the same partly because, in many cases, so were the people expressing it. To a large extent, and with the important exception of some hardliners on both sides, 1678’s ‘whigs’ were 1681’s ‘tories'” (quoted by the same).

Some of this might’ve been the case of the successful rhetoric of the early Whigs being emulated and co-opted by the early Tories, a common tactic of reactionaries as a way of neutralizing an opponent’s position. One distinction remained stable throughout this period, Whigs defended religious non-conformists and dissenters while Tories attacked them. There had been a growing religious divide, in the Western world, from the peasants revolts to the Protestant Reformation to the English Civil War to the American Revolution, where in each case heretical critics and leaders stood against church authority, hierarchy, and power; typically motivated by righteous denunciations of political corruption, concentrated wealth, and abusive power within organized religion — the American revolutionary Thomas Paine became an infamous pariah later on for having written Age of Reason, a deist diatribe and jeremiad against organized religion (Nature’s God and American Radicalism); very much a product of Country Party, with its anti-clericalism. It’s the same old conflict that has happened with every new religion or sect that challenged an entrenched theocracy or priestly class, such as with the original egalitarian Christians (Stephen J Patterson, The Forgotten Creed).

“In the same essay [‘Of the Political Parties of Great Britain] Hume points out that this basic difference [of two political temperaments] parallels a similar one over religion: partisans of the Establishment side naturally with the party of monarchy; those of the schismatic or heretical sects, with the ‘republican’ or ‘commonwealth’ party. This idea has also become a commonplace, and most modern writers on party have discerned the origins of the two historic parties in religious differences. [… Keith Feiling] traces the Whig and Tory parties back to the era of Reformation, pointing out that there were originally three parties: a Catholic ‘Right,’ an Anglican ‘Center,’ and a Puritan ‘Left.’ With the virtual disappearance of the sixteenth century there remained only two parties: that of the Church opposing that of the Sects. Ever since, the division between Whig and Tory (and between Liberal and Conservative) has reflected this division between Chapel and Church — Dissent and the Establishment” (Robert Walcott, The Idea of Party in the Writing of Later Stuart History).

It’s amusing that the author of that quote, writing in 1962, referred to Fairlie’s term ‘the Establishment’, coined in 1955; a 20th century idea being anachronistically projected as a frame onto the past. Anyway, by whatever language used to describe it, before the modern era, almost every uprising and revolt involved oppressed and silenced religions, religious factions, and religious cultures; and since the Axial Age, this has often been structured along the lines of authoritarianism (or social dominance) versus egalitarianism. So, about Country Party versus Court Party, all the British views on Crown and Parliament could be interpreted as secondary, as offshoots of religious structures and movements in competition and conflict in how groups sought the legitimacy of authority and authorization. Even today, a country like the United States remains highly religious, all across the political spectrum. How liberals and conservatives perceive politics has much to do with the historical development of religion, with the Roundhead dissenters of the English Civil War having settled in the northern colonies and the Cavalier Anglicans having established themselves to the south. Something to keep in mind.

Having gone into decline in England, the United States was more fully imprinted by the earlier form of the Country tradition, becoming what once was called Anti-Federalism but what today is no longer named at all, though remaining as an ideological undertow. “The writings of the country party were eagerly devoured by some American colonists who came to fear the corruption of the English court as the greatest threat to the colonies’ desired liberties. They formed a Patriot cause in the Thirteen Colonies and used the country party ideas to help form Republicanism in the United States. [James H.] Hutson identified country ideology as a major influence on the Antifederalists during the debate over the ratification of the United States Constitution. Similarly, Jeffersonianism inherited the country party attack on elitism, centralization, and distant government during the ascent of Alexander Hamilton and other Federalists” (Wikipedia). As a side note, it’s amusing that Thomas Jefferson, as a Cavalier aristocrat, narratized the revolutionary conflict as akin to the Anglo-Saxon tribes defense against the Norman invasion that would establish the Cavalier aristocracy; but such Country-like rhetoric appealed to him as a rural landowner, distant from Court power. We still require greater context to understand how Anti-Federalism formed, specifically what allied the likes of Jefferson and Thomas Paine; both, for example, having had advocated progressive land taxes to redistribute what they perceived as wealth and resources stolen from the former feudal commons.

Let’s go to the very beginning of Toryism. It is a word that comes out of old Irish, maybe related to the sense of being sought, pursued, chased, or hunted (from tóir). The dispossessed and displaced Irish Catholics were oppressed, early on under Oliver Cromwell’s Roundheads; sadly, since both Irish Catholics and Cromwellian dissenters had been oppressed by the same Church of England. So, these Irish tories allied with the English and Scottish Cavalier’s on the side of the monarchy (similar to why many Native Americans allied with the British Empire during the American Revolution). The term ‘torie’ originally was associated with thieves and bandits, and so it came to refer to the political opposition. But it eventually was associated with the triune of ‘God, King, and Country.’ Right from the start, it had a mix of meanings; and one might sense hints of the odd usage by Fairlie. The Country Party has an even more mixed history, not always clearly associated with any single actual party but more often a term to indicate a coalition of interests. But it too had a meaning of opposition: “dissenters of all kinds will be of the Country party” (David Hume, Of the Parties of Great Britain).

Patriotism, as loyalty to country (ethno-nationalism, the land and the people), was early on synonymous with a Country ideology. One thing that sometimes brought Toryism and Country Party together was a republican idiom, even when not actually opposed to monarchy itself; which is odd since republicanism, by definition, means rule without monarchy. Once again, it’s what monarchy represented, not necessarily monarchy itself. It was, instead, “opposition to the government, the centre of which was the court,” such that the monarchy was seen as something separate and above, the ‘Court’ being what today we’d think of as the bureaucracy, the deep state, and the military-industrial complex (Max Skjönsberg, Patriots and the Country party tradition in the eighteenth century: the critics of Britain’s fiscal-military state from Robert Harley to Catharine Macaulay). In the 18th century, the radical Whig Catharine Macaulay wrote approvingly of the regicide during the English Civil War; and yet also hoped for “a patriot king and a patriot ministry co-operating with the body of the people to throw off the shackles of septennial parliaments” (History of England, Vol. 8) — that is the kind of attitude that likely so incensed Edmund Burke, not fear of regicide in distant France but the regicidal tradition right at home. To confuse things further, “the ‘libertarian’ Country party platform had an imperial dimension, which can be connected with the Tory blue-water foreign policy of the early eighteenth century” (Skjönsberg). That last part touches upon Fairlie’s Toryism, in which his having been far from an anti-imperialist or opposed to big government in general, including when it came to war.

In a more distorted form, one can think of those self-styled American ‘patriots’ who attack the ‘government’ all the while praising the police state and the military empire (what, in the past, would’ve been thought of as support for the king and the king’s army, in distinction from Parliament); or decrying authoritarianism while supporting theocracy, white supremacy, and an aspiring strongman. Such strange ideological tendencies can go off in many directions, some quite contradictory. Out of this emerges modern populism, sometimes right-wing but at other times left-wing, but often inconsistent. It’s dual form took shape early on. In the way the Cromwellian army operated, and in line with the earlier rhetoric of the peasants revolts, the Country Party had a genuine component of egalitarianism: “The Country Party began having regular meetings in London, calling itself the Green Ribbon Club. The Club was an open political and social organization that encouraged membership from all classes, and the members freely mixed to exchange ideas” (Elizabeth Breeden Townes , Contemporary reactions to the Popish Plot and the exclusion crisis). At the same time, many of its leaders found it convenient to incite xenophobia and paranoia. So, there would be simultaneous denouncement of both slavery and Catholicism, expressing fear of oppression and the demand to oppress others — sounds like the present reactionary right here in the United States.

In the century following the English Civil War, this raucous confusion took a particular form on this side of the pond, and with the same force of populist zeal. But when imported to the American colonies, the meanings of words morphed: “Like their British predecessors, the ‘Jeffersonian Republicans’ feared the growing power of the executive and its influence over the legislative power that risked upsetting the constitutional equilibrium. As avid readers of Bolingbroke and Catharine Macaulay, they were steeped in the Patriot and Country traditions. These traditions were called ‘Whig’ in America, but they had in fact been predominantly associated with Tories during the years of Whig oligarchy after the Hanoverian Succession, and they could occasionally unite Tories with opposition Whigs. Jeffersonian accusations against Hamilton of being ‘Tory’ illustrate how this could lead to confusion, as his financial system was modelled on Whig politics against which British Tories protested for decades” (Skjönsberg). Most members of Jefferson’s Democratic-Republican Party joined the Democratic Party, while a smaller portion turned to the Whig Party and National Republican Party (no association to present GOP); many of the Whigs later joining the present Republican Party. For this reason, outsiders assumed that the Democrats, in opposing the Whigs, must be Tories.

Indeed, the Democrats, in having grown beyond their Anti-Federalist roots (e.g., a strain of abolitionism), became more neo-traditionalist in some ways (e.g., actively defending neo-feudal slavery); where revolutionary liberty was whittled down to that of privilege, even as the political franchise began to expand to all white males. To further complicate, consider that supposed godfather of modern Anglo-American conservatism, Edmund Burke, was a member of the liberal and progressive Whigs. Yet like the Tory Fairlie, his demands for reform were simultaneously strong and moderate, depending on what he was responding to. Burke criticized the British East India Company and initially supported the American Revolution, but once war broke out his loyalty was ultimately to the British Empire. Despite claiming him to support their own legitimacy, the main thrust of American conservatism has been decidedly anti-Burkean, just as much as it has been anti-Tory — Reagan went so far as to quote from the optimistic vision of Thomas Paine, the ideological enemy of Burke. Meanwhile, British conservatism has for the past couple centuries been freely mixing the old elements of both Whigs and Tories. One might throw one’s hands up in despair of making sense of it all, but what is important are the steady and continuing undercurrents.

Of course, we must emphasize again the point that Tory and Whig haven’t had singular unchanging definitions across history. In the 1670s, the radical Whigs challenged the standing army, in favor of local militias, as the military represented the king’s power beholden to no one else; whereas a constitutional monarchy would limit the king’s authority. But over the following 18th century, fear of standing armies drifted over into Tory rhetoric (Lois G. Schwoerer, “No Standing Armies!”). In both cases, this opposition to excessive and oppressive military was a defining feature of the Country Party, a party of no specific party but always shifting. This view on a standing army came to be a major point of complaint among the American Anti-Federalists and other true Federalists. This suspicion of martial power could be seen with the moderate Federalist and reluctant revolutionary John Dickinson, draft author of the Articles of Confederation (revised by Anti-Federalists and so the single greatest Anti-Federalist document); such as with his related argument of Purse and Sword, positing that freedom was not possible if the same ruler, political body, or level of government controlled both taxation and military.

Of course, Fairlie was never against a standing army. But then again, almost no one today would be, not on consistent principle as could be the case many centuries ago. That goes to his argument that we now live in a world of strong governments and hence national militaries, it only being a matter of who is served by them. It’s largely become a moot issue and so a consensus has formed across the political spectrum, although the rhetoric of militias still rings potently, if only among a small reactionary fringe of militant extremists actually takes it seriously. A modern nation-state simply can’t operate without a standing army; and so to oppose it is to oppose modernity as we know it and all that goes with it; and even among the most reactionary, few actually want to return to feudalism, the last time standing armies were rare. On that point, the Court Party has won out, both in practical politics and public imagination.

Someone like Fairlie was very much a modern figure, generously borrowing from both the Country and Court traditions. He definitely drew upon that long established egalitarian populism of the Country Party, having formed before any peasants revolts — listen to the libertarian rhetoric of the ancient world, such as inspired the anti-authoritarian messages of prophets and teachers (e.g., Jesus) and numerous anti-authoritarian uprisings (e.g., the gladiator revolt led by Spartacus, his wife having been a Dionysian prophetess, a religion associated with liberty). On the other hand, as opposed to the Country worldview, Fairlie was firmly in the camp of an activist government; drawing upon a liberal progressive strain of the Court ideology, a strain that preceded the American Revolution by more than a century. As representing a Court platform at its best in terms of interventionist government, by the early 19th century when Country-minded egalitarianism had been mainstreamed, “the Whig political programme came to encompass not only the supremacy of parliament over the monarch and support for free trade, but Catholic emancipation, the abolition of slavery and expansion of the franchise (suffrage)” (The Politics of Britain Wiki, Whig (British political party)). As such, Fairlie’s Toryism inherits much from the old radical Whigs. Still, he is clearly a Tory through and through in his detesting laissez-faire capitalism, neoliberalism, corporatism, inverted totalitarianism, financialization, and regressive taxation; old issues that tightly bound earlier Toryism to certain Country inclinations.

Ultimately, he often seems to side with Court ideology, ignoring party labels, in lamenting American conservatives undermining of government and unwillingness to accept political responsibility; specifically in relation to consent of the governed, noblesse oblige, public good, culture of trust, and similar ideals representing a shared society as a moral community. But then again, Country criticisms of government tended to be selective, not sweeping; not necessarily, on principle, opposed to strong or large government, as long as it was good governance. Whereas Republicans dismiss out of hand the hard work necessary to run a modern government, preferring to merely attack and tear down, dismantling it and selling off the parts for short-term profit and self-interest, eating the seed corn so that there can be no next year’s crop; all part of strategy of Starve the Beast. That is the dark side of Country ideology, pushed to a reactionary extreme without any counterbalance of Country virtues. Though there was always a genuine populist impulse in speaking for certain segments of the lower classes, the Country Party too often in practice ended up being a cover for the interests of the capitalist class (merchants and large landowners) who wanted to cut government down to size, small enough that it could be drowned in a bath tub — not so that a more direct self-governance could fill the void but so that there would be no outside restrictions on their own oligarchic dominance, local and/or private.

Think of the original states rights argument of Southern aristocrats which, in opposing federal treaties, sought to steal Native American land; and then justified it with populist appeals of opening the land for white settlers. That is kind of the right-wing populism that so worried the likes of Richard Hofstadter when he wrote The Paranoid Style in American Politics. But that unfairly dismisses millennia of genuine populism, built on an emerging class consciousness that made all of modern leftism possible, no matter how the reactionary right has co-opted it. The merchants and large landowners wouldn’t have taken up such rhetoric, if they hadn’t been preceded by a centuries-long grassroots movement of working class revolt; not merely limited to agrarianism, if sometimes taking that form; much less identical to the extremes of reactionary politics such as anti-Catholicism, antisemitism, and McCarthyism. Hofstadter too came around to admitting he was wrong, that genuine populism was much more diverse and very often radically left-wing in its egalitarianism (Anton Jäger, The Myth of “Populism”).

One wonders if, in following in this ancient pedigree, Henry Fairlie recognized his debt not only to the Court Party but also to the Country Party. Did he understand its importance to the American founding and the potential it has continued to hold? Did he understand how the Country Party and Court Party had intertwined across Anglo-American history, each in its way influencing his vision of Toryism?

Our Life Among the Reactionary Right

The Left and the Right in Relationship

We find that, in our location and life circumstances, we are in contact with a variety of people across the ideological spectrum(s), along with across cultural differences. This diverse town is a major medical and research center centered around a liberal state college. The writers workshop here is the oldest of its kind. Though relatively small, the community draws people from all over the country and all over the world; and it’s situated amidst farmland, pulling in many residents and workers who grew up in rural communities and small towns as well; thus balancing out the middle class WEIRDness (Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich, Democratic). But our own bias is mostly that of a local yokel, if someone who at times has lived in other states and regions of the country. Most of our life has been in this town and, though without a college degree ourselves, we fit in just fine with our intellectuality, love of learning, and book obsession. All of that, of course, goes along with our liberal-mindedness.

Yet, as radically left-liberal as we might be, we were raised by conservative parents who are rightward socially, religiously, and economically, if they are somewhat moderate; and we spent our teen years in the conservative, nay right-wing authoritarian, Deep South. Even now in being surrounded by liberalism, for various reasons, we somehow end up spending much of our time talking with those on the right, some more reactionary than others: Republican partisans, fundamentalists, Tea Partiers, MAGA supporters, and alt-righters. Some are family, while others are friends and coworkers. They are a diverse bunch and so they wouldn’t agree on a number of issues, but among them there is a common disconnect that comes up again and again. It’s certainly frustrating, to a leftist, and often just plain strange and disconcerting.

We probably spend more time thinking about such people than they spend thinking about us, and so here we are. Let’s give an example. There is one guy we’ve personally known for a long time. He is an all around conservative Republican trapped in a right-wing media bubble and echo chamber. His views tend toward the conventional, though increasingly reactionary as he ages. He more or less fits the stereotypical profile of demographics and life experience that one might expect, though not relevant for our present purposes. Among our right-wing relationships and acquaintances, he is the one we talk to the most regularly and the most engagingly, for the simple reason we’re around each other a lot. So we are particularly familiar with his worldview and what motivates it. We are informed of his background and what has shaped his life.

He is smart and educated, as is the norm around here, and yet his understanding is so narrowly confined as to give him no larger perspective. Admittedly, he has physically seen more of the world than we have. Intellectually, though, he is less well traveled. Anything that disagrees with his beliefs and biases is often dismissed out of hand. Though retired from the educational field, he simply doesn’t have much curiosity outside of what he already knows or thinks he knows, and having been an expert in his field he is prone to the smart idiot effect, in believing he doesn’t have to research a topic for himself to have a relevant opinion that is to be taken seriously. When point blank given evidence that contradicts his views, he’ll typically refuse to look at it and just digs in further; the standard backfire effect that research shows is more common on the Right, and well-educated conservatives most of all (an interesting phenomenon we won’t discuss further here).

All evidence that doesn’t confirm his bias is asserted as having a liberal bias or is somehow wrong, faulty, or whatever; without any need to prove it (e.g., climatology science is false, manipulated, and corrupt because he read one right-wing book on the topic and so no further information is needed). He won’t offer counter-evidence, just assumes he is right until he is proven wrong, which is impossible to do in his own mind since he already knows he is right. How does one respond to that? Of course, when this anti-intellectualism is pointed out, he gets defensive and asserts that, as someone on the left, we’re just calling names. No, we’re not. We’d love to have a meaningful intellectual discussion with him about many topics, but his intellectual willingness in many cases is not up to match, though not for lacking general intelligence, far from it.

A Liberal Mind Amidst Right-Wing Media

If this otherwise nice fellow were merely stupid, we wouldn’t bother talking to him in the first place or at least we wouldn’t engage with him beyond casual chatter. Yet in having been bottle-fed on early Cold War propaganda, he lacks intellectual defenses against manipulative media. He tends to mindlessly repeat the rhetorical framings, narratives, and talking points he hears from right-wing media and political elites. Unlike us, his media consumption doesn’t extend very far, pretty much limited to sources that conform to the same basic set of scripts. He doesn’t have exposure to any left-wing media or even moderately liberal media, in the way we are constantly exposed to right-wing and conservative media. Part of the reason for this difference is that we have an uncontrollably driven sense of curiosity that ends up leading us all over the place, along with what we inadvertently pick up from the surrounding cultural and media milieu.

As a liberal-minded liberal, it’s hard for us to imagine not wanting to know other perspectives. Besides, even when trying to mind our own business, it’s impossible to ignore right-wing media when it’s constantly in our space, such as televisions playing in the background and newspapers laying about. Keep in mind that all corporate media has a right-wing bias, if only in terms of the capitalist realism and class war of the ownership class (i.e., the super-rich elite who own most of the corporate media that is concentrated in a few transnational corporations). Also, consider that, if you go anywhere in the United States, the most common channel to be playing in any place of business (restaurant, bar, hotel lobby, etc) is Fox News. This isn’t a right-wing country, at least not in terms of supermajority public opinion, but we are ruled by a right-wing elite, media and otherwise.

That is the thing. In our having liberal-minded thin psychic boundaries, it’s not part of our capacity to block out what is in the world around us, whether or not it would be our preference. We are hyper-attuned and sensitive like a staticky shirt picking up lint everywhere we go, the kind of cognitive tendency that comes up in studies on what distinguishes liberals and the liberal-minded. It’s an expression of high openness to experience, and it has other affects as well, in terms of the dual trait openness/intellectuality. Though we may be an extreme example in our roving curiosity, surveys show that liberals in general consume more conservative media and alternative media than do conservatives of liberal media and alternative media; partly because liberals are on average younger and spend more time on the media-diverse internet. Then again, it’s hard for a liberal to do otherwise, of any age group, as right-wing media is pervasive, while leftist media is mostly excluded from the ‘mainstream’.

Anyway, it’s just in the nature of liberals to be liberal-minded, that is to say motivated by intellectual curiosity and cognitive complexity, and so seeking out a greater variety of views and sources. One of the strengths and weaknesses of the liberal-minded personality trait openness is that the boundaries of the mind are thin and porous, that is to say the opposite of highly focused and narrowly confined. To the degree one is liberal-minded one would not be content and satisfied listening to the same set of opinions over and over, hearing talking points parroted. With wandering and sprawling minds, curiosity tends to get the better of liberals. We on the left are vulnerable to being drawn into the corporate-controlled media environment, just because we’re curious and that is mostly what is available. It takes a lot more conscious effort and intention to look for underfunded leftist media.

Let’s consider some specifics. For instance, according to audience data, a liberal is more likely to watch Fox News than a conservative is to listen to NPR, even though the former is much further right than the latter is to the left; as even NPR is mostly privately-funded (i.e., corporate-funded) and, according to one analysis, gives more airtime to right-wing think tanks (an analysis that was already biased in labeling centrist think tanks, to the right of the American public, as ‘liberal’). To find a leftist equivalent of the extremist rhetoric heard on Fox News, one would have to look even further left to alternative media, but such media territory is a complete blindspot for most conservatives, as well as for many liberals. It’s hard to imagine anyone in the United States who is not intimately aware of Fox News, what it spouts, and the effect it has. It’s strange considering most Americans, on most issues, are to the left of the political elites, including the DNC elite. Yet majoritarian left-liberal views are so silenced in ‘mainstream’ media, even supposed ‘liberal’ media, as to be treated as near non-existent.

This is part of a larger pattern of ideological divide. Similarly, someone on the left is more likely to be familiar with genetic determinism than someone on the right is to be equally familiar with epigenetics, and the same for numerous unequal disparities of knowledge: leftist knowledge of corporate capitalism versus rightist ignorance of Marxism and communism (or even ignorance of the anti-corporatist capitalism of the American founding generation), leftist knowledge of neoliberalism versus rightist ignorance of anarchosyndicalism (or any other similar variations of socioeconomic leftism), leftist knowledge of right-libertarianism versus rightist ignorance of left-libertarianism (despite left-libertarianism being the original meaning of ‘libertarianism’), leftist knowledge of fundamentalist apologetics versus rightist ignorance of pagan parallels in Abrahamic religions (the latter of which was written about by Thomas Paine, the main inspiration for the American Revolution), and endless other examples.

So, one side is always coming to the table with greater familiarity with the other side, but it is not mutual to an extreme degree. Instead of knowledge, right-wing rhetoric turns leftists into inane cartoon characters. In listening to Fox News, one lady we know is always saying how absurd and crazy is the political left, by which is typically meant the DNC elite. Indeed, if one were to mostly watch Fox News and little else, it would be hard to not be shocked by leftist politics that, as portrayed, makes absolutely no sense. But what doesn’t occur to the indoctrinated reactionary mind is that maybe it’s the media caricature, not the target of derision, that is absurd.

Getting to Know the Reactionary Right

Because of a lifetime of such a media environment, and because of being liberal-minded in our curiosity, we have become quite conversant not only with conservative ‘mainstream’ media like Fox News and The Wall Street Journal but also have gained long familiarity with more alternative stuff: Reason Magazine, Epoch Times, Imprimis, etc; along with the websites, blogs, and Youtube channels of religious apologists (e.g., Stephen J. Bedard), racists (e.g., Richard Lynn), white supremacists (e.g., Steve Sailer), genetic determinists (e.g., HBDchick), anarcho-capitalists (e.g., Stefan Molyneux ), and on and on; ad nauseum. Also outside the bounds of respectable society, we’ve listened to the likes of Alex Jones, Stephen Bannon, and Jordan Peterson long before most on the Right had even heard those names.

After seeing him in Richard Linklater’s movies in the early Aughts, it was from Alex Jones that we first learned of the concept of a false flag operation; that was when he had yet to go full Looney Tunes, if he was already teetering on the edge of sanity. As that decade ended, during the Obama administration, Stephen Bannon came out with a documentary on generations theory that we saw; and we quickly recognized it as propaganda. Our parents were watching a lot of Fox News at the time and Glenn Beck became a common presence in our life. On our own, around then or maybe earlier, we checked out the largely unknown Greg Gutfeld on his late show on Fox News, but found it boring; and now he is the new primetime comedian commentator to fill Beck’s absence. It was during that period when we first came across talk of Jordan Peterson, his not having been politicized back then and, instead, mostly known for his 1999 book Maps of Meaning. It was actually a Canadian liberal who introduced us to him; prior to his having embraced the alt-right, having become an IDW (intellectual dark web) figure, and having turned his life into political spectacle.

In the past, we used to actively seek out such interesting and intriguing, sometimes bizarre, stuff and would look into almost anything, as we felt morally obligated and intellectually compelled to understand what was going on in the world, including what was bubbling up in the reactionary mind. At times, depending on our mood, we could and still can be openly curious to almost any alternative view, if sometimes just for shits and giggles. The most extreme paranoid fantasies and rantings, in the more innocent times of decades past, could be taken as mere entertainment; because there was no mass movement and corporate media pushing them to the extent seen now, and certainly there had yet to be a Donald Trump presidency and a MAGA insurrection. Our alternative-loving mentality has had a way of leading us down strange, sometimes dark, paths; a habit we blame on our tender young psyche having been imprinted upon by Robert Anton Wilson and Art Bell; what once were gateway drugs for the curious liberal.

We don’t regret our past explorations. It made possible for us to follow all the lines of influence that eventually formed into the present deranged reactionary right, though it would’ve been hard to have predicted what it was to become in its full glory. We were right there at the beginning and it’s fascinating to think back on it. We came of age in the ’90s and viscerally felt the changes in the air. When still in high school, while down in South Carolina, we’d sometimes catch the early right-wing radio talk shows, such as Laura Schlessinger and Rush Limbaugh, along with occasionally listening to fire-and-brimstone preachers as they can be mesmerizing. Following that, we spent several summers in the Bible Belt region of North Carolina, where we worked at a Christian camp and, also while dating a local girl, got to know far right fundamentalists up close and personal.

All in all, the world of the reactionary right is not alien to us, even as it will always be something outside our own mentality. We’ve lived with it, grasped what it is, watched it develop, felt its impact in our gut, and seen what it does to others. It influenced us as well, if only in determining what we didn’t want to be. Now we’re in a different place in our life. We’ve tried to learn to be more discerning in what we put into our mental space, as we’ve found too much of the crap out there to be torturous and usually pointless, not worth wasting one’s time upon. Concern for mental health required us to stop such bad habits of wide-open curiosity, if we still prize an open mind. Nonetheless, it’s not like we can isolate ourselves. Even now, we know the exact talking points that are popular right at this moment on Fox News. We absorb it all like a sponge, all the more reason to set clear boundaries.

No Shared Knowledge, No Mutual Communication

To get back to the conservative guy we mentioned, for all the above reasons and more, we know where many on the right are getting their thoughts and ideas from, whereas few on the right have any clue about where those of us on the left are coming from. It’s a immense chasm to cross, and so it makes actual and mutual communication a rarity, but it can happen at times and that is what motivates us to reach out to the right-wingers within our personal world. Frustration aside, we do enjoy dialogue with those of other views, and that is why this particular conservative has occupied so much of our attention. When not taken in by right-wing fears, he actually is capable of nuanced thoughtfulness and so talking with him is far from a waste of time. Plus, we simply value our relationship with him on a human level; not everything is about overt ideology.

Because of our larger perspective with a broader knowledge base, we are able to sense our way into his worldview; and so we sometimes can couch our own views in the language, ideas, and frames that make sense to him. Yet he can’t return the favor, as it simply is not in his capacity. Our holding all the responsibility for translation can be tiresome. Even then, only on occasion do we successfully manage to lure him out of his reality tunnel of ideological realism and groupthink. At those times, he is able to be somewhat clear-minded and critical, if only briefly for he soon falls back into a more comfortable stance. The only reason we’ve been able to reach him at all is because the political right is fractured and the cracks offer opportunities for light to shine in, creates weak points to gain leverage and wedge open just enough before the openings snap shut again.

In contrast to his GOP partisanship, we are an equal opportunity critic of the entire two-party duopoly. This is useful in that we can get him to lower his defenses by our attacking the DNC elites, particularly the Clintonistas, of which we despise all the more as they stand in for the entire Left on corporate media spin, while in reality third way politics mostly triangulates itself between the moderate right and the corporate right, with some liberal sugar to help the poison go down. In talking to him, we can segue from such criticisms of Democrats into even harder hitting critiques of the totalizing corruption of both parties within a common power structure that dominates society. This usually works in drawing out his semi-libertarian streak, but his defenses return at the slightest hint of ideological threat. We have to be cautious in not being too provoking, and our success is spotty at best.

Still, we can often get him to agree, surprisingly, with rather leftist views (on the problems of neoliberalism, excessive CEO pay, near monopolies, externalized costs, harmful inequities, culture of trust breakdown, monied corruption, etc). That is as long as we don’t point out that we are expressing leftism. The main challenge is that, no matter what, he will always mentally still be living in the early Cold War. A McCarthyist battle against authoritarian Stalinism and in favor of authoritarian fascism will never end in his Burkean moral imagination, and no non-authoritarian third option is quite possible as a viscerally real choice, despite his being able to intellectually conceive that non-authoritarianism sounds nice as an ideal and in theory. Basically, like most on the reactionary right, he has no actual understanding of democracy or genuine concern about it. How could he when all he hears is anti-democratic rhetoric on right-wing media?

Democracy is just a word to be bandied about and, in reactionary style, defenders of democracy get caricatured as attacking ‘democracy’ (i.e., the status quo of the Establishment). Yet, since he is part of the respectable classes, he can’t admit that he is anti-democratic (i.e., right-wing authoritarian) and anti-egalitarian (i.e., social dominance orientation), if not entirely (like many Americans, he is ideologically schizoid). Such an admission would be politically incorrect, even on the political right. This is the double bind we are caught in as a society. Many individuals can’t openly declare and commit to what they actually value, believe, and uphold. Another obvious example is how racists these days deny being racists, whereas in the past they’d have been proud of their racism, to the point of open supremacism and eugenics. This goes hand in hand with the political right co-opting the label of classical liberalism, while eschewing the ugliness of classical conservatism, but eschewing it in name only.

Reaching Out to the Closed Mind

To this conservative guy, old school neocon President Joe Biden is a communist or else he is a communist puppet under the control of Representative Alexandria Ocasio Cortez and Senator Bernie Sanders. And the corporatist Affordable Care Act (AKA Obamacare) is likewise communist, despite it increasing the wealth and power of the private oligopoly of insurance companies, and despite it having originated in a right-wing think tank and having been first implemented by the Republican Mitt Romney (it would make more sense to call it Romneycare). Everything that isn’t far right is communist, or anything that is right-wing but then adopted by the Democratic Party. And whatever you do avoid the topic of postmodern Marxism, a complete oxymoron since postmodernists and Marxists are historically bitter enemies, to such an extent that declassified records show that the CIA intentionally promoted postmodernism to combat Marxist influence. Such facts are irrelevant, though, in speaking to those on the Right.

In not knowing themselves, in refusing to know themselves, right-wing reactionaries know the other side even less and know the larger world not at all. So, lost in such darkness, they are prone to frightening nightmares, where what they project outward is cast back upon them as shadows; with all the shadow boxing that entails, wild punches being blindly thrown and haphazardly landing upon the innocent. Their only sense of the entire Left is a fantastical phantasm that would instantly dissipate in the light of self-awareness, but that would require them to lift it up into open-eyed scrutiny. How does one talk to someone on the Right when their words drop off into empty air filled with the insubstantial imaginings and frightening specters that only they can see? Yet in being part of the same society, how can we not talk to these others, how can we not attempt to reach out? After all, they are our family and friends, our neighbors and coworkers. They aren’t really other, even if that is how they perceive us or rather how the media they consume portrays us.