The conservative case for Barack Obama
    by Andrew J. Bacevich
  Barack Obama is no conservative. Yet if he wins the Democratic nomination, 
come November principled conservatives may well find themselves voting for the 
senator from Illinois. Given the alternatives—and the state of the conservative 
movement—they could do worse.   Granted, when it comes to defining exactly what 
authentic conservatism entails, considerable disagreement exists even (or 
especially) among conservatives themselves. My own definition emphasizes the 
following:     
   a commitment to individual liberty, tempered by the conviction that genuine 
freedom entails more than simply an absence of restraint;

  
   a belief in limited government, fiscal responsibility, and the rule of law;

  
   veneration for our cultural inheritance combined with a sense of stewardship 
for Creation;

  
   a reluctance to discard or tamper with traditional social arrangements;

  
   respect for the market as the generator of wealth combined with a wariness 
of the market’s corrosive impact on humane values;

  
   a deep suspicion of utopian promises, rooted in an appreciation of the 
sinfulness of man and the recalcitrance of history. 
  Accept that definition and it quickly becomes apparent that the Republican 
Party does not represent conservative principles. The conservative ascendancy 
that began with the election of Ronald Reagan has been largely an illusion. 
During the period since 1980, certain faux conservatives—especially those in 
the service of Big Business and Big Empire—have prospered. But conservatism as 
such has not.   The presidency of George W. Bush illustrates the point. In 
2001, President Bush took command of a massive, inefficient federal 
bureaucracy. Since then, he has substantially increased the size of that 
apparatus, which during his tenure has displayed breathtaking ineptitude both 
at home and abroad. Over the course of Bush’s two terms in office, federal 
spending has increased 50 percent to $3 trillion per year. Disregarding any 
obligation to balance the budget, Bush has allowed the national debt to balloon 
from $5.7 to $9.4 trillion. Worse, under the guise of keeping Americans
 “safe,” he has arrogated to the executive branch unprecedented powers, thereby 
subverting the Constitution. Whatever else may be said about this record of 
achievement, it does not accord with conservative principles.   As with every 
Republican leader since Reagan, President Bush has routinely expressed his 
support for traditional values. He portrays himself as pro-life and pro-family. 
He offers testimonials to old-fashioned civic virtues. Yet apart from sporting 
an American flag lapel-pin, he has done little to promote these values. If 
anything, the reverse is true. In the defining moment of his presidency, rather 
than summoning Americans to rally to their country, he validated conspicuous 
consumption as the core function of 21st-century citizenship.   Should 
conservatives hold President Bush accountable for the nation’s cultural crisis? 
Of course not. The pursuit of instant gratification, the compulsion to 
accumulate, and the exaltation of celebrity that have become
 central to the American way of life predate this administration and derive 
from forces that lie far beyond the control of any president. Yet conservatives 
should fault the president and his party for pretending that they are seriously 
committed to curbing or reversing such tendencies. They might also blame 
themselves for failing to see the GOP’s cultural agenda as contrived and 
cynical.   Finally, there is President Bush’s misguided approach to foreign 
policy, based on expectations of deploying American military might to eliminate 
tyranny, transform the Greater Middle East, and expunge evil from the face of 
the earth. The result has been the very inverse of conservatism. For Bush, in 
the wake of 9/11, ideology supplanted statecraft. As a result, his 
administration has squandered American lives and treasure in the pursuit of 
objectives that make little strategic sense.   For conservatives to hope the 
election of yet another Republican will set things right is surely in
 vain. To believe that President John McCain will reduce the scope and 
intrusiveness of federal authority, cut the imperial presidency down to size, 
and put the government on a pay-as-you-go basis is to succumb to a great 
delusion. The Republican establishment may maintain the pretense of opposing 
Big Government, but pretense it is.   Social conservatives counting on McCain 
to return the nation to the path of righteousness are kidding themselves. 
Within this camp, abortion has long been the flagship issue. Yet only a naïf 
would believe that today’s Republican Party has any real interest in 
overturning Roe v. Wade or that doing so now would contribute in any meaningful 
way to the restoration of “family values.” GOP support for such values is akin 
to the Democratic Party’s professed devotion to the “working poor”: each is a 
ploy to get votes, trotted out seasonally, quickly forgotten once the polls 
close.   Above all, conservatives who think that a McCain presidency would
 restore a sense of realism and prudence to U.S. foreign policy are setting 
themselves up for disappointment. On this score, we should take the senator at 
his word: his commitment to continuing the most disastrous of President Bush’s 
misadventures is irrevocable. McCain is determined to remain in Iraq as long as 
it takes. He is the candidate of the War Party. The election of John McCain 
would provide a new lease on life to American militarism, while perpetuating 
the U.S. penchant for global interventionism marketed under the guise of 
liberation.   The essential point is this: conservatives intent on voting in 
November for a candidate who shares their views might as well plan on spending 
Election Day at home. The Republican Party of Bush, Cheney, and McCain no 
longer accommodates such a candidate.   So why consider Obama? For one reason 
only: because this liberal Democrat has promised to end the U.S. combat role in 
Iraq. Contained within that promise, if fulfilled, lies some
 modest prospect of a conservative revival.   To appreciate that possibility 
requires seeing the Iraq War in perspective. As an episode in modern military 
history, Iraq qualifies at best as a very small war. Yet the ripples from this 
small war will extend far into the future, with remembrance of the event likely 
to have greater significance than the event itself. How Americans choose to 
incorporate Iraq into the nation’s historical narrative will either affirm our 
post-Cold War trajectory toward empire or create opportunities to set a saner 
course.   The neoconservatives understand this. If history renders a negative 
verdict on Iraq, that judgment will discredit the doctrine of preventive war. 
The “freedom agenda” will command as much authority as the domino theory. 
Advocates of “World War IV” will be treated with the derision they deserve. The 
claim that open-ended “global war” offers the proper antidote to Islamic 
radicalism will become subject to long overdue
 reconsideration.   Give the neocons this much: they appreciate the stakes. 
This explains the intensity with which they proclaim that, even with the 
fighting in Iraq entering its sixth year, we are now “winning”—as if war were 
an athletic contest in which nothing matters except the final score. The 
neoconservatives brazenly ignore or minimize all that we have flung away in 
lives, dollars, political influence, moral standing, and lost opportunities. 
They have to: once acknowledged, those costs make the folly of the entire 
neoconservative project apparent. All those confident manifestos calling for 
the United States to liberate the world’s oppressed, exercise benign global 
hegemony, and extend forever the “unipolar moment” end up getting filed under 
dumb ideas.   Yet history’s judgment of the Iraq War will affect matters well 
beyond the realm of foreign policy. As was true over 40 years ago when the 
issue was Vietnam, how we remember Iraq will have large political and even
 cultural implications.   As part of the larger global war on terrorism, Iraq 
has provided a pretext for expanding further the already bloated prerogatives 
of the presidency. To see the Iraq War as anything but misguided, unnecessary, 
and an abject failure is to play into the hands of the fear-mongers who insist 
that when it comes to national security all Americans (members of Congress 
included) should defer to the judgment of the executive branch. Only the 
president, we are told, can “keep us safe.” Seeing the war as the debacle it 
has become refutes that notion and provides a first step toward restoring a 
semblance of balance among the three branches of government.   Above all, there 
is this: the Iraq War represents the ultimate manifestation of the American 
expectation that the exercise of power abroad offers a corrective to whatever 
ailments afflict us at home. Rather than setting our own house in order, we 
insist on the world accommodating itself to our requirements.
 The problem is not that we are profligate or self-absorbed; it is that others 
are obstinate and bigoted. Therefore, they must change so that our own habits 
will remain beyond scrutiny.   Of all the obstacles to a revival of genuine 
conservatism, this absence of self-awareness constitutes the greatest. As long 
as we refuse to see ourselves as we really are, the status quo will persist, 
and conservative values will continue to be marginalized. Here, too, 
recognition that the Iraq War has been a fool’s errand—that cheap oil, the 
essential lubricant of the American way of life, is gone for good—may have a 
salutary effect. Acknowledging failure just might open the door to 
self-reflection.   None of these concerns number among those that inspired 
Barack Obama’s run for the White House. When it comes to foreign policy, 
Obama’s habit of spouting internationalist bromides suggests little affinity 
for serious realism. His views are those of a conventional liberal. Nor has 
Obama
 expressed any interest in shrinking the presidency to its pre-imperial 
proportions. He does not cite Calvin Coolidge among his role models. And 
however inspiring, Obama’s speeches are unlikely to make much of a dent in the 
culture. The next generation will continue to take its cues from Hollywood 
rather than from the Oval Office.   Yet if Obama does become the nation’s 44th 
president, his election will constitute something approaching a definitive 
judgment of the Iraq War. As such, his ascent to the presidency will implicitly 
call into question the habits and expectations that propelled the United States 
into that war in the first place. Matters hitherto consigned to the political 
margin will become subject to close examination. Here, rather than in Obama’s 
age or race, lies the possibility of his being a truly transformative 
presidency.   Whether conservatives will be able to seize the opportunities 
created by his ascent remains to be seen. Theirs will not be the only
 ideas on offer. A repudiation of the Iraq War and all that it signifies will 
rejuvenate the far Left as well. In the ensuing clash of visions, there is no 
guaranteeing that the conservative critique will prevail.   But this much we 
can say for certain: electing John McCain guarantees the perpetuation of war. 
The nation’s heedless march toward empire will continue. So, too, inevitably, 
will its embrace of Leviathan. Whether snoozing in front of their TVs or 
cheering on the troops, the American people will remain oblivious to the fate 
that awaits them.   For conservatives, Obama represents a sliver of hope. 
McCain represents none at all. The choice turns out to be an easy one.  
_________________________________   Andrew J. Bacevich is professor of history 
and international relations at Boston University. His next book, The Limits of 
Power, will be published in August.  



       
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