Dakota Beacon

Awhile back a headline proclaimed: “Conservatives Still Outnumber Moderates, Liberals.” At that time, a Gallup poll showed 43% Americans describe themselves as conservative, 35% moderate and 20% liberal. What caught my eye was the labeling of the categories as “ideologies.”

This announcement coincided with something I was reading. Specifically, I discovered one of the finest descriptions of conservatism I’ve ever seen. This was in a chapter of a book by British author Michael Oakeshott (1901-1991). He was among the most notable political philosophers of the twentieth century. The chapter “On Being Conservative” is contained in his book of essays titled “Rationalism in Politics and Other Essays” (1962).

In a word, Oakeshott maintains that conservatism is not an ideology as broadly ascribed by Gallup. Conservatism is not a contrivance or something premeditated. Rather, he describes conservatism as a “disposition.”

To digress for a moment, it is worth noting that the word “ideology” was coined by a Frenchman, Destutt de Tracy, following the French Revolution to describe a “science of ideas.” Napoleon used the term pejoratively referring to zealous leaders of the revolution who caused the ruin of France. He pronounced the revolutionaries as “ideologues” attributing to them impractical schemes they imposed on ordinary life. Today, liberal ideologues do the same by imposing diversity, income redistribution, and racial quotas while denying any ill intent. Therefore, if any category can be classified as an ideology in the original sense of the word, it must be liberalism.

Michael Oakeshott was a skeptic in the tradition of St. Augustine and Montaigne. He rejected all pretentiousness toward the perfection of mankind’s ability to manage and control the uncertainties of human existence.

Oakeshott best expresses conservatism being a disposition. In his words, “If the present is arid (desolate, barren) offering little or nothing to be used or enjoyed, then this inclination will be weak or absent; if the present is remarkably unsettled, it will display itself in a search for a firmer foothold...; but it asserts itself characteristically when there is much to be enjoyed,...with evident risk of loss. In short, it is a disposition appropriate to a man who is acutely aware of having something to lose and which he has learned to care for....It will appear more naturally in the old than in the young, not because the old are more sensitive to loss but because they are apt to be more fully aware of the resources of their world and therefore less likely to find them inadequate.” The “something to lose” he refers to is liberty.

If Oakeshott is correct, then his understanding goes a long way toward explaining the Gallup poll. It may also explain why some people unwittingly vote with liberal feelings while otherwise behaving with a conservative disposition.

Oakeshott goes on to point out that “To be conservative, then, is to prefer the familiar to the unknown,...the actual to the possible,...the convenient to the perfect, present laughter to Utopian bliss....[T]he grief of loss will be more acute than the excitement of novelty or promise. With some people this is itself a choice; in others it is a disposition which appears, frequently or less frequently, in their preferences and aversions, and is not itself chosen or specifically cultivated.”

At one point Oakeshott elaborates unequivocally on our fascination with the illusion of change. “In general, the fascination of what is new is felt far more keenly than the comfort of what is familiar....We readily presume that all change is, somehow, for the better, and we are easily persuaded that all the consequences of our innovating activity are either themselves improvements or at least a reasonable price to pay for getting what we want.” For Oakeshott, change comes with deprivation, a sweeping away of the old, a forced removal of familiar things.

All in all, Oakeshott communicates his discussion of conservatism as a disposition in a highly readable style.

Even so, a fair criticism of Oakeshott’s essay must address his lengthy sentences. Though not difficult to read, the novice reader might be put off by his style. His sentences are neither convoluted nor wandering. In fact, when deciphering his thoughts, it’s quite possible to diagram his sentences with ease. In generating long sentences, Oakeshott creates lists of related ideas intelligently expressed. In this sense, he should be judged more for the content of his argument than by the style of his writing.

That said, it is obvious that a prerequisite, a mandate if you will, is that the reader be able to read carefully and with understanding. That may be a tall order for a culture fixated on entertainment and overstimulation. An unwillingness to put forth even the slightest effort leaves one stranded in a wasteland of regret and wishfulness.

Dennis M. Patrick can be contacted at (JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address).a