The late Richard Weaver, in a capricious moment, defined conservatism as “the paradigm of essences toward which the phenomenology of the world is in continuing approximation.” As a jeu d’esprit the Weaver aside has become a classic, quoted whenever in doubt by Mr. Weaver’s votaries; but as a meaningful statement about conservatism it leaves, like many another, much to be desired. Surely Mr. Weaver, a lover of rhetorical play, appreciated this fact. He knew, better than most, that conservatism is not so easily defined or categorized—which, incidentally, may help to explain why he never did bother to define conservatism.
Conservatism only becomes conspicuous in periods of acute crisis, when lines are clearly drawn and sides chosen. It is not surprising, therefore, that the most interesting conservative writing is done during such troubled times. If, in T. S. Eliot’s phrase, the “enemies of permanent things” are afoot in the land, the conservative becomes inspired with a countercause, he is free to do his special thing, which is to conserve. One thinks of the polarization following the French Revolution, with Tom Paine on one side. glorifying The Rights of Man, and Edmund Burke on the other, penning that masterpiece of conservative thought, Reflections on the Revolution in France. People whose impulses were liberal or radical sided with Paine; conservatives tended to agree with Burke. Indeed, to this very day the Paine-Burke dichotomy is an excellent test of one’s tendencies toward liberalism or conservatism.
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