Karl Rove is no conservative, as his memoir shows
Karl Rove's book, "Courage and Consequence: My Life as a Conservative in the Fight," has relaunched much debate about key moments of the George W. Bush presidency, such as the decision to go to war in Iraq and the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Antiwar protesters even heckled Rove off the stage at a Beverly Hills book signing event recently, calling him a war criminal and trying to handcuff him. For many conservatives, though, the trouble with the book is simpler. Rove has written an exciting memoir and, when it comes to his childhood, even an endearing one, but we believe it makes at least one misleading statement -- and it's in the subtitle.
It comes as a surprise to many of us on the right who have known him over the years that Rove describes himself as a "conservative." A compassionate conservative? Sure. A big-government conservative? No doubt. But a conservative, pure and simple? Now that's a real revelation.
From William F. Buckley Jr. to Barry Goldwater to Ronald Reagan, the creators of the modern conservative movement always taught that excessive concentration of power in government leads inevitably to corruption and the diminution of personal freedoms. But while Rove credits these leaders for shaping his early political views -- "at the age of thirteen, I was wild for Barry Goldwater," he writes -- he did not pursue their values while in the White House. To the contrary, as the chief political architect of the Bush presidency, Rove was instrumental in directing an administration most notable for its enormous expansion of national government.
Throughout his memoir, Rove is partial to "compassionate conservatism" -- the phrase made famous during Bush's 2000 presidential campaign -- and describes the "four big foundations" of the idea as "education reform, the faith-based initiative, a generous middle-class tax cut and Social Security and Medicare reform."
Consider that list. Bush's tax cut was, certainly, basic conservatism in action, yet even President John F. Kennedy, a Democrat, did as much. And the faith-based initiative mainly allowed religious groups to compete equally with other groups seeking federal grants -- commendable, but still merely leveling the playing field for access to government largesse, and an initiative in keeping with the principles of Jimmy Carter.
The truly unique aspects of Bush and Rove's compassionate conservatism were in the arenas of education and entitlements. The goals of Bush's No Child Left Behind education initiative were certainly worthy, but its trampling of states' rights sounded early alarms for traditional conservatives. And Bush's market-oriented proposals for Social Security reform notwithstanding, the Medicare prescription drug benefit the president signed into law in 2003 has created an unfunded liability of $9.4 trillion over the next 75 years, according to the 2009 report from the Medicare trustees. This is far beyond what the White House estimated would be saved with Social Security reform, and the first new major entitlement since the days of Lyndon Johnson.
And we all remember steel tariffs, the creation of the Department of Homeland Security, the McCain-Feingold campaign finance law, a massive agricultural subsidy bill, and other spending and regulatory moves by the Bush administration that tilted power toward Washington and away from individuals and states.
In his memoir, Rove defends the Bush record as a truly conservative one. "Some on the right argue that by putting the word compassionate in front of conservatism, George W. Bush somehow diminished the principles that have animated the conservative movement since at least the rise of Barry Goldwater in 1964," he writes. "This wasn't my sense of it at all. Bush is among the most conservative presidents of the modern age. Just look at his tax cuts, pro-life and pro-family stands; his support of free trade and reducing regulation; his belief that competition improves health care, the environment and Social Security; and his insistence on education results."
But the results speak otherwise. In total, Bush increased federal spending on domestic programs more than any president since Richard Nixon, easily surpassing Bill Clinton, Carter and his own father, so much so that by 2008, America had two big-government parties. Rove writes that as a teenager he carried around a paperback copy of Goldwater's "Conscience of a Conservative," but he should have heeded the book's first few pages, in which Goldwater warned against hyphenated conservatism.
The Bush administration's move toward big government was not gradual, either; it was signaled during then-Gov. Bush's campaign. In 1999, the journalist Tucker Carlson interviewed Bush in Austin and asked him if he was a small-government conservative. Mr. Bush replied no; he said he was an "efficient-government conservative." Bush's campaign rarely called for spending cuts of any kind and even opposed eliminating the Department of Energy, whose abolition had been in every GOP platform since 1980.
Bush was not the first Republican president to claim the conservative mantle yet merrily grow the size of government; Nixon and Gerald Ford did much the same. Rove and Bush are heirs to a brand of Republicanism rooted in a Tory-style, top-down defense of the status quo. It is not modern conservatism, not the brand that today is finding voice in the "tea party" movement, and certainly not the populist conservatism that found electoral success beginning in the late 1970s.
Modern American conservatism has roots in the ideas of philosopher John Locke, the founding fathers and the notion that humans' natural state is freedom. This thinking later fused into a modern political movement with Buckley, who also championed the idea that that liberty is God-given, thus broadening the movement's appeal to social conservatives. Over time, American conservatism evolved into a well-defined political movement that is anti-status quo, opposed to excessive government, populist and pro-individual.