In the early 1960s, it was not obvious or inevitable that Barry Goldwater would emerge as conservatism’s national standard-bearer. Some conservative intellectuals were less than enthusiastic about him. He was reluctant himself. But conservative leaders did not wallow in despair because their options were less attractive than they might have dreamed. They calculated that Goldwater was the best, indeed the only possible vehicle for conservative aspirations. And then they made that possibility a reality. A movement of individualists thus found its leader, fittingly, in an individual who never totally belonged to it. So while it is commonly said that Goldwater created the modern conservative movement, it might be more accurate to say that the movement created itself through the Goldwater campaign. It became a substantial political force for the first time, and it learned from Goldwater’s heroic example that not to shrink from battle is itself a victory. Not, to be sure, the victory conservatives so ardently desired in 1964. But the nation wasn’t ready for that. Neither was the movement. A Goldwater Administration would almost certainly have been a disappointment. Disappointment with their national leaders is something conservatives have often felt in recent years. They keep waiting for “another Reagan,” some candidate who will make them fall in love. And one might come along. In the meantime, perhaps what conservatives really need is another, though doubtless very different, Barry Goldwater. —Ed.
FOR conservatives, the Sixties was the decade not of John F. Kennedy but of Barry Goldwater. Early in the decade, conservatives believed they had found their champion in Goldwater, a true son of the West, where freedom and independence were not simply words but beliefs worth fighting and even dying for. The story of how they convinced him to run for President and helped him capture the Republican nomination in 1964 is one of the most dramatic and momentous tales of postwar American politics.





Comments