For me, as for most young conservatives, the ‘60s were the decade not of John F. Kennedy but Barry M. Goldwater, not Students for a Democratic Society but Young Americans for Freedom, not The New Republic but National Review, […] not Lyndon Johnson’s Great Society but Ronald Reagan’s Creative Society, not a “meaningless” civil war in Vietnam but an important battle in the protracted conflict against Communism.
Since the 1990s and the end of the so-called “Reagan revolution,” historians have finally been willing to shed their lopsided view of the 1960s as a decade of radical, left-wing movements and to consider the ideas of the conservative movement seriously. Hence a series of books with such significant titles as The Other Side of the Sixties (Andrew III), The Conservative Sixties (Farber and Roche), Turning Right in the Sixties (Brennan) or A Generation Divided: The New Left, the New Right, and the 1960s (Klatch)…
These studies all undermine the hypothesis according to which conservatism disappeared after McCarthyism before re-emerging in the shape of a “silent majority” at the end of the 1960s. In other words, they help to demolish the supposed distance between “Old” and “New” Right. They also show that American conservatism cannot be reduced to a defence of the status quo. If the Left subverted the prevailing politics and culture in the 1960s, so did the Right.
Beyond this common message, however, the dozen books I have selected for this overview of the historiography of the conservative 1960s differ in their methodology and scope. While some of them – using official documents stored in presidential libraries, newspaper reports, or personal files belonging to key actors – concentrate on the higher echelons of conservative power and electoral politics, others focus on conservatism at the grassroots – using interviews of conservative militants or local archives. Yet others are studies of conservative thinkers who have articulated the formal strategy and concerns of the conservative movement and thus laid the groundwork for electoral success.
After carefully reviewing each of them in turn, I will argue that, thoroughly valuable as they are individually, these books fail to produce a comprehensive narrative of conservatism in the sixties and that a focus on conservative economic ideas and think tanks is necessary to bring the three tiers of our classification together.
The first two parts of the book tell two intertwined stories:
The last two parts of the book are devoted to a blow-by-blow account of the Republican primaries, the Republican national convention in San Francisco – at which Goldwater won a surprise nomination – and the 1964 presidential election, in which Johnson literally trounced him.
Perlstein does a good job at demonstrating why Goldwater wasn’t a good candidate:
Other factors, of course, were involved in Goldwater’s defeat, including:
Perlstein ends his story just after election day – which is a shame – and leaves it to the reader to find the connection of Goldwater campaign’s to more recent events. What he implies is, of course, that the message of Goldwater – smaller government, individualism, and duty to the strict interpretation of the Constitution – stuck, ready to be taken up by better orators with similar policy ideas.
The story of how the conservative wing of the GOP methodically, and somewhat surreptitiously, became a dominant force in national politics by gaining control of the Republican Party was well worth a book in itself. That book now exists thanks to Mary Brennan, a professor of history at Texas State University.
Turning Right in the Sixties chronicles the conservative capture of the Republican Party from 1960 to 1968. In doing so, it effectively addresses one of the central questions in modern American politics: how conservatism transformed itself from an obscure fringe movement into one of the most powerful political forces in the country.
The book begins in the 1950s, when the Republican Party was dominated by moderates such as New York Governor Nelson Rockefeller, Vice President Richard Nixon, and President Dwight Eisenhower. Conservatives, who at the time were a minority in the party, felt that their beliefs were not represented and decided to join or start numerous organizations outside of their party to articulate their views. The most well-known of these was the John Birch Society, a controversial organization that was strongly anti-communist and advocated extreme conspiracy theories.
In the 1960 presidential election, conservatives tried to exert their growing influence by attempting to get Barry Goldwater named as Richard Nixon’s vice-presidential nominee. The spot on the ticket went to Henry Cabot Lodge instead, but conservatives continued their grassroots efforts, and were able to nominate Goldwater as the Republican presidential candidate in 1964. In this election, conservatives had several major problems that ensured a victory to President Lyndon Johnson. One of them was that Goldwater’s staff and his key supporters were generally inexperienced. Another was that Goldwater’s rhetoric made it easy for Johnson to paint him as an extremist who was out of touch with mainstream America.
In spite of their defeat in 1964, conservatives continued to push the party towards the right. When Richard Nixon was again nominated, and this time elected, in 1968, he knew that he could no longer ignore the conservative wing of the party. Twelve years later the conservatives’ goals were finally recognized, as they were able to elect conservative Ronald Reagan to the White House.
Much of this is well known, but Brennan recounts it cogently. What she adds to our understanding is how conservatives transformed themselves into successful political organizers. One can merely regret that she does not put more emphasis on the role of conservative youth organizations such as Young Republicans or Young Americans for Freedom, which were instrumental in Goldwater’s nomination in 1964. Fortunately, this shortcoming is remedied by John Andrew’s excellent book called The Other Side of the Sixties: Young Americans For Freedom and the Rise of Conservative Politics.
With this book, we enter the field of “organizational” studies, which can either be described as a category of grassroots social history (since organizations usually recruit members locally) or as a category of “national” political studies (since political organizations usually try to exert influence at the highest level).
What is most original about The Other Side of the Sixties is that its author does not hesitate to acknowledge the “radical” character of conservative organizations like YAF. Like SDS and SNCC, Andrew writes, YAF “challenged the status quo [...] and [...] believed that the path of change lay through grass-roots organization and activism.” Also like SDS and SNCC – albeit from a right-wing perspective – YAF “emerged to offer an ideological and structural critique of the reigning liberalism.”
The brainchild of William F. Buckley Jr. and a few other prominent conservatives (including National Review publisher William Rusher, conservative journalist M. Stanton Evans, and Republican fundraiser Marvin Leibman), YAF was designed to combat the bland, centrist, “modern Republicanism” of Eisenhower, Rockefeller, and even Nixon. Specifically, Andrew writes, it “sought to place conservatives in control of the Republican Party, and to inject conservative politics into the mainstream of American political life.” The group officially came into existence in late 1960, after Buckley invited more than 100 boys and girls he considered “outstanding youth leaders” to a meeting at his estate in Sharon, Connecticut.
Two years before SDS's famous “Port Huron Statement,” YAF came out with its own angry manifesto, the “Sharon Statement.” Largely written by M. Stanton Evans, it was pitched to young idealists who saw danger in creeping governmental centralization. “Foremost among the transcendent values is the individual’s use of […] free will, whence derives his right to be free from the restrictions of arbitrary force,” Evans wrote. At the same time, the statement invoked Cold War containment politics that suggested national interests could be placed ahead of individual rights (“The forces of international Communism are, at present, the single greatest threat to these liberties […]. The United States should stress victory over, rather than coexistence with, this menace”). As Andrew notes, this mix of individual liberty and collective response was not particularly stable and would in fact lead to significant splits within the organization. But he also notes that “more than anything else [...] their anticommunism bound them together and made possible agreement despite the conflicting strains of conservative thought.”
The Other Side of the Sixties then details YAF's activities during the early 1960s, especially its significant contribution to Goldwater's nomination. Members testified before Congress, published essays and op-eds excoriating every manifestation of liberalism, proselytized on college campuses, and pulled the GOP rightwards by lobbying for hard-core conservative candidates and issues. Dues-paying membership probably peaked around 30,000 in 1964 and YAF was considered important – and subversive – enough to be kept under close watch by the federal government. But, Andrew argues persuasively, the group's real contribution cannot be measured in numbers. Indeed, although never able to transform electoral politics during the period, YAF provided a training ground for people who would later become influential in conservative politics, including fundraiser Richard Viguerie, presidential candidate Pat Buchanan, and Moral Majority and Conservative Caucus co-founder Howard Phillips.
If The Other Side of The Sixties has a significant failing, it is that the book – much like Perlstein’s Before the Storm – basically stops with the electoral blowout of Barry Goldwater. While this authorial decision is understandable (there is no central manuscript archive for either YAF, hence the archival limitations), it means that the rest of the story of YAF in the 1960s is not told. Fortunately, some elements of it can be found in Rebecca Klatch’s A Generation Divided: The New Left, The New Right, and the 1960s.
In her book, Klatch, who is a professor of sociology at the University of California at San Diego, brings an interesting perspective to the 1960s by interviewing and contrasting YAF and SDS members then tracing their personal histories up through the late 1990s.
Klatch’s work was actually inspired by Karl Mannheim’s essay “The Problem of Generations,” in which the great sociologist argues that within people of the same age group, there exist separate and even antagonistic generation-units, which form a dynamic relationship of tension. In other words, people can live through the same events and interpret them in radically different ways. Klatch applied Mannheim's model to those who came of age in the ‘60s, interviewing 74 veterans of SDS and YAF.
Though the book contains a lot of the life stories you would expect (SDSers who became professors or therapists, YAFers who took a direct route to DC jobs), the lesson drawn by Klatch is that organizations like SDS and YAF were far less homogenous than they seemed. The difficulties experienced by YAF after 1964 (which is where John Andrew’s book stopped) are especially well described by the interviewees. It seems that by the late 1960s, the ideological divisions in YAF between conservatives and libertarians could no longer be masked by an overriding commitment to anti-communism. The Vietnam War actually split the organization. Conservatives felt the Cold War legitimized conscription; libertarians saw the draft as slavery.
At the 1969 YAF convention in St. Louis, a heated debate broke out over the group’s position on the draft. Conservatives eventually agreed to call for the replacement of a conscripted force with a voluntary one. When YAF’s Libertarian Caucus pushed for a resolution advocating draft resistance as a legitimate form of civil disobedience, conservatives refused. When a member of the Anarchist Caucus denounced the war as an imperialist adventure and burned his draft card, all hell broke loose. The convention evolved into a shouting match between conservatives and libertarians. The latter were derided as “lazy fairies” and essentially run out of the organization. Following this purge, some of them joined SDS, with whom they shared a celebration of individual liberty. This new alliance shows that “left” and “right” were not monolithic in the sixties. We get an impression of young people trying out ideas without much regard for rigid categories.
Though very thoughtful and well-written, Klatch’s study of the conservative milieu faces tough competition from two other books: The Conservative Sixties, edited by David Farber and Jeff Roche, and Suburban Warriors, by Lisa McGirr. These truly rely on a grassroots historical approach.
In their introduction, Farber and Roche argue that while historians have taken up the challenge of writing the history of American conservatism, they have done so in a limited way. Specifically, they assert that historians have been too focused on what they call “overview” and “organizational” studies. This, according to the editors, has led to a historical neglect of “studies of the conservative movement at the grass roots.” Thus, the essays chosen for the book are designed to remedy this perceived lack of attention. Through this focus on everyday conservative activists, the editors argue that a clear narrowing between the “Old” and “New” Right can be seen – with a focus on the 1960s revealing “a clear continuity in conservative philosophy.” Moreover, by establishing this continuity through the various essays, the editors argue that there was no real fragmentation of the conservative movement. Rather, “anticommunism, extremism, Goldwaterism, Reagan Democracy, religious fundamentalism, and ‘law and order’” merely became the various ways activists developed at the local level “to communicate a deep-rooted set of beliefs”.
Michelle Nickerson, in her examination of conservative women's grassroots activism in California, argues that these women did not fit the stereotype of the apolitical fifties and sixties housewife. Rather, they made up the activist base for many conservative campaigns, including Barry Goldwater’s. The 1960s conservative housewives’ political power came not only from their status as “moral mothers” but also from their respected position as “experts by virtue of their intense study.” Here, Nickerson persuasively challenges Elaine Tyler May’s view of the fifties “politics of expertise” as one which undermined political action by grassroots activists.
Likewise, the essay by Donald Critchlow on the early career of Phyllis Schlafly (pre-ERA opposition) shows how it was her education and expertise, as much as her position as wife and mother, which allowed her to lecture across the country on issues ranging from education to defence policy. The books she authored were devoured by grassroots conservative activists, who used them to develop their own political philosophies. Taken together, the essays by Critchlow and Nickerson not only re-frame how historians should view conservative activism in the sixties, but also how we should view women's activism during that same period.
Focusing on these two essays should not detract from the other fine pieces in this volume. Specifically, the remaining essays could all be employed in classes on the conservative resurgence. David Farber's essay will help students see the commonalities among political activists on the left and right during the sixties. Jonathan Schoenwald’s and Evelyn Schlatter’s essays on the more “extreme” elements on the political right (the John Birch Society, the Minutemen) will introduce readers to facets of the conservative movement that modern conservatives like to obscure. The essay by Kurt Schuparra provides a concise look into Ronald Reagan's early career. Finally, the essay by Michael Flamm is excellent in detailing the use of “law and order” as an organizing issue for local activists.
Taken together, these studies add greatly to our understanding of conservatism in the sixties. They also confirm the hypothesis advanced by Lisa McGirr in 2001: that conservatives were motivated not by status anxiety, but by ideological concerns that were rational and coherent, if not always logically consistent.
McGirr traces two conservative influences at work in the formation of Orange County, despite the federal largesse required first to develop and later to maintain the region. First, the early influence of conservative Protestantism had given Orange County a reputation for a strict, individualistic moralism even by the turn of the century. Second, the defence boom of WWII encouraged the influx of culturally conservative, anti-government speculators and defence contractors.
All this tinderbox of cultural conservatism required was a spark to set it alight. That spark was anticommunism. Anticommunist organizations ranged from anti-ACLU school board gatherings to the John Birch Society, and were led primarily by recent immigrants to the area, who shared “not only relative wealth but also the experience of social mobility that affirmed their faith in the possibility of individual achievement”. These organizations formed the skeletal structure of what would later become the Goldwater grassroots in Orange County.
The experience of the Goldwater campaign proved a double-edged sword for Orange County conservatives. On the one hand, it propelled them onto the national arena. On the other, the landslide victory of Johnson in 1964 seemed a convincing repudiation of conservatism on the national level. Despite this setback, Goldwater's army soon found a more capable standard-bearer in Ronald Reagan and vaulted him to the governorship of California in 1966.
As demographic trends (such as the rise of the Sunbelt) coincided with the difficulties of liberalism (most notably with regard to civil rights and Vietnam), the conservative movement shifted anew. Anticommunism faded into the background and single-issue movements – against pornography, sex education, abortion – came to the fore. In addition, fuelled by “a middle-class counterrevolution against 1960s ‘permissiveness’,” evangelical Christianity gained a wealth of new converts in the late 60s and 70s. This new conservative message worked to propel Ronald Reagan once again, this time into the presidency. After only twenty years of organizing, the Right’s moment had come. In conclusion, McGirr discovers that, despite the prevailing elite notions that conservatism is antimodern and that the spread of education and modernization should have further marginalized it, conservative forces have instead flourished, and especially in areas considered the least conducive to them (until the 1970s at least): suburban regions...
Until the 1990s, the role of race in the emergence of the New Right had not been given much attention. Fortunately, historians like Thomas and Mary Edsall, Thomas Sugrue and Dan T. Carter have made it a central focus of their research.
The question of racial justice organized much of the formal domestic political fireworks in the 1960s. It played out most spectacularly in regard to political jurisdiction with white southerners. However, by the late 1960s, outspoken whites in communities in all regions had become bitterly opposed to the idea that the federal government had the right both to set the standard of racial justice and to intervene in Americans’ neighbourhood schools, union locales, places of business, and housing choices.
During the 1968 presidential race, Alabama governor George Wallace most successfully blended traditional southern states’ rights rhetoric with a principled-sounding conservative defence of local political self-determination. He insisted – against all prior evidence – that he did not intend to push for racial segregation and never acknowledged that many whites’ anger at big government was not driven by abstract political philosophy but by their government’s decision – via the 1964 Civil Rights Act and subsequent legislation – to make racial discrimination in unemployment, public accommodations, and housing a federal crime.
The major conservative political leader of the early 1960s, Barry Goldwater, reorganized the electoral efficacy of this equation of conservatism with the individual right to be a racist employer, a racist businessman, or a racist property owner, even as Goldwater was, personally, not a racist.
At the grassroots in the sixties, multitudes of northern urban whites started to fight against what they perceived as African-American incursions into their communities. They made it clear to local politicians and to black urban migrants that they meant to preserve their neighbourhoods as whites-only communities. Driven by the older dream of local control and local standards based on culturally authentic, traditional values, by the late 1960s the New Right was born.
 Lee Edwards, “The Other Sixties: A Flag-Waver’s Memoir”, Policy Review 46 (Fall 1988): 58.
 Among the criteria that were used in the selection process were originality, perceived importance to the field, and availability.
 William Kristol, writing for the New York Times Book Review, and William Rusher, writing for National Review, were at least as enthusiastic as David Kennedy, who wrote on the cover that Perlstein’s book was “a must read for anyone interested in the intertwined fates of conservatism and liberalism on the politics of the last half-century.”
 The association of conformity with the 1950s was established and reinforced by the consensus school of historians who came to prominence in the 1950s. In American Political Tradition (New York: Knopf, 1948), Richard Hofstadter argued that American history was dominated by a set of guiding principles that included belief in private property, individualism, and capitalism. Hofstadter did not view this consensus uncritically, but many of the consensus historians who followed him (Arthur Schlesinger Jr., Louis Hartz, and Daniel Boorstin) were far more celebratory. Not until the 1970s and the "bottom-up" social history of Herbert Gutman and the cultural approach of Warren Sussman did a new interpretation of the 1950s as a period filled with tensions rooted in race, class, ethnicity, and gender, emerge.
 The Old Right was a conservative faction in the United States that opposed both New Deal domestic programs and U.S. entry into World War I and World War II. Most of its members were business-oriented conservatives associated with the Republicans of the interwar years led by Robert Taft, but some were ex-radicals who had moved sharply to the right, like the novelist John Dos Passos; still others, like the Southern Agrarians, were traditionalists who dreamed of restoring a premodern communal society. They were called the "Old Right" to distinguish them from their New Right successors, such as Barry Goldwater, who favoured an interventionist foreign policy to battle international communism.
 At the 1969 YAF convention in St. Louis, for instance, a faction of rebels consisting of radical libertarians or anarchists, most of them belonging to Karl Hess IV’s Anarcho-libertarian Alliance, decided to split off from the organization entirely.
Pour citer ces ressources :
Aurélie Godet. 04/2012. "“Break On Through (to the Other Side)”: An Overview of The Historiography of U.S. Conservatism in the Sixties (Part 1)".
La Clé des Langues (Lyon: ENS LYON/DGESCO). ISSN 2107-7029. Mis à jour le 1 mai 2012.
Consulté le 28 juillet 2016.
Url : http://cle.ens-lyon.fr/domaine-americain/break-on-through-to-the-other-side-an-overview-of-the-historiography-of-u-s-conservatism-in-the-sixties-part-1--151293.kjsp