To understand how much work progressives have to do in the United States, one need only look back on the stupendous revolution pulled off by the conservative movement. Its signal achievement—and one that continues to baffle deep thinkers of the center and left—was to win the hearts and minds of vast numbers of Americans who ought to have been, by the standard calculations of the time, easy marks for economic populism.
The closer one looks at the backlash, the more brilliant this achievement seems. Consider the two red-letter years for conservative militancy, 1978 and 1994. The first saw the advance party of new-style conservative populists—Newt Gingrich, to name only one—ushered into Washington. The latter marked their conquest of the U.S. Congress. Each of these events took place against a backdrop of deep economic troubles for the country’s working and middle classes. Indeed, the late 1970s and the early 1990s were pretty much defined by the deep discouragement of working stiffs and their resentment of the economic elite. How, then, did these times give us Gingrich?
The New Right understood that for their party to succeed in adverse times, it had to—in the words of tax rebel Howard Phillips—“organize discontent.” John Dolan, an early conservative political action committee operative echoed this sentiment, boasting that he conceived his mission to “stir up hostilities. We are trying to be divisive. … The shriller you are the better it is to raise money.” Not just to raise money, of course, but to build a movement. Direct-mail mavens like Richard Viguerie, himself the son of the Midwestern working class, understood how to work their humble brethren into a lather about issues with largely symbolic significance to the majority of voters—affirmative action, abortion, gun control. Political power, the New Right understood, grows out of the mailbox of a pissed-off gun owner.
One of the bizarre contradictions of the nascent reactionary movement, as historian Christopher Lasch noted, was that the target audience for these backlash solicitations was anything but a natural constituency for conservatism. Polling data at the time of California’s great property-tax revanche indicated that the movement’s adherents tended actually to favor such unconservative ideas as the redistribution of wealth.
Moreover, the New Right grasped that many of the so-called social issues were in fact class issues—that the high-minded principles axiomatic among educated, well-off liberals could be distorted beyond recognition when viewed through the prism of class. Decriminalizing abortion, for example, to its proponents meant freeing women from the “destiny” of biology, or alleviating the burden of poor women and families. To a great many with working-class attitudes or dispositions—what today’s political jargon calls “values”—abortion was a moral horror. It took little to convince such people that the only ends abortion could possibly serve were the extreme self-centeredness of the rich or the coddling of the poor.
It took little to convince them, in other words, that abortion—and busing, and affirmative action, and criminal justice reform, and a host of other issues—were antithetical to their way of life. Liberal moral vanity had been foisted on them against their will.
And so flowered the trope of displaced class rage, where the liberal stood in as a proxy for the boss. The deindustrialization of the ’80s and early ’90s continued to produce a healthy surplus of discontent, and the bright young operators of the conservative movement continued to organize and channel it to the Republican Party’s ends.
Now, many have observed that the New Right could not have worked these wonders without the benefit of regular and staggering subsidies remitted to its campaign funds, PACs and think tanks by the heirs of several industrial and financial fortunes. Again, however, one can only stand in awe of the political acumen at work. While assiduously attacking the academy for its liberal slant and declining standards, conservative benefactors set up think tanks as rival sources of authority in public discourse (free, incidentally, from the burdensome professional standards of the academy, such as peer review). Loudly bewailing the hopelessly liberal bias of the media, conservative money men funded magazines, newspapers, television programs, cable TV networks, university chairs and symposia, and made sure that every college in the land had some version of the Dartmouth Review operating on campus.