John Derbyshire of the National Review is ahead of the curve. He’s already in the depression stage of grief.
I see plainly that Western civilization, over my lifetime, has been a slow-sinking ship. The few who have known what is happening have worked desperately to seal the watertight doors, repair the fissures, pump out the flooded zones. It’s been a losing fight, though. The tilt of the decks is harder and harder to ignore. Last night, a major bulkhead gave way. Soon a funnel will topple over with a great crash and a shower of sparks. Yet still the band is playing, the people are dancing, the food coming up from the galley.
Steven Hayward, writing about my latest in the Claremont Review of Books, says it is “surprising that Derbyshire never raises the obvious question: without the conservative movement of the past 50 years, how much worse would things be?” Not much, would be my answer. Certainly those working the pumps have been engaged in a noble endeavor, which I’m proud to have been associated with. They could hear the dance music too, though. It got their feet a-tapping; then an ex-colleague came down from the ballroom to mock and tempt, and soon there was one less pair of hands on the pumps, and one more government program, one more subsidy, one more tax, one more restraint on freedom of speech or association, one more futile war.
It’ll be over soon. We’ll be down in the cold, lightless depths of imperial despotism — in which, after all, the great majority of human beings, throughout history, have always lived. It’s the natural way: liberty is an unstable temporary aberration.
Melodramatic? You bet. But the perfect epitaph to the Reagan Revolution. Derbyshire understands, as the real Jeffrey Lebowski put it, “Your revolution is over. The bums lost.” Of course, Derbyshire will get over his despondency. He’ll be back in the fray. But he’ll never see the America he just lost come back again. He will always remain in the cold, lightless depths.
