Come On in, Fusion, the Water’s Fine

For a long time, fusionism as a philosophical endeavor has been associated with National Review, where editor Frank Meyer was its primary articulator. Forget that Meyer did not choose the name. The term eventually came to describe his view that “the common source in the ethos of Western civilization from which flow both the traditionalist and the libertarian currents, has made possible a continuing discussion which is creating the fusion that is contemporary American conservatism,” as he wrote in 1962. He continued:

That fused position recognizes at one and the same time the transcendent goal of human existence and the primacy of the freedom of the person in the political order. Indeed, it maintains that the only possible ultimate vindication of the freedom of the individual person rests upon a belief in his overriding value as a person, a value based upon transcendent considerations. And it maintains that the duty of men is to seek virtue; but it insists that men cannot in actuality do so unless they are free from the constraint of the physical coercion of an unlimited state. For the simulacrum of virtuous acts brought about by the coercion of superior power, is not virtue, the meaning of which resides in the free choice of good over evil.

Fusionism helped create the conditions by which distinct groups on the right with different precepts and aims (albeit with considerable overlap) — traditionalists, libertarians, anti-communists — were able to exist and collaborate in the same movement. That coexistence should not be confused with fusionism itself, as many mistakenly do. But those conditions played a considerable role in birthing the modern conservative movement.

Born in the Cold War, the conservative movement has long been in a quest for direction and purpose since the conflict’s end. That quest has taken on a particularly fractious internecine quality since the 2016 presidential candidacy of Donald Trump, which unearthed and/or intensified a whole host of debates on the right. Some participants in this debate disdain freedom per se, holding that the focus on it, advanced by Meyer all those decades ago, is part of what has led the Right into its current dire straits.

Into this breach steps Fusion: In the Tradition of Liberty, a new publication that will be a home to “arguments that emphasize the indispensable, although not exclusive, roles of individual liberty and constitutional government in securing political, economic, and moral flourishing.” Though such arguments were “once ubiquitous to the point of cliché,” the publication holds that they “have become distinctly unfashionable against a rising tide of identity politics, counterproductive nationalism, and dumbed-down populism.” Fusion will offer them regardless, conscious of the fact that “the defense of freedom must be renewed — and revised — in every age.” Conscious also of its heritage, its name is tribute to Meyer and his fusionism.

The promise of the publication is on full display in an inaugural symposium on freedom. Introducing the symposium, Fusion editor Sam Goldman rightly notes that its contributors represent different strains. Yet “rather than claiming a more united front than actually exists, we want to acknowledge productive disputes even among allies.” Even so, he identifies certain touchstones among its participants. The whole thing is worth reading, but worthy of special attention are the excellent entries by Ryan T. Anderson on what freedom should not mean and Yuval Levin on why freedom and community need each other. The symposium in its totality is an auspicious start for this new publication. It is heartening to see the tradition of liberty being taken seriously, in Meyeresque fashion, in another outlet. I wish Fusion the best, and I look forward to seeing what else it produces.