Holding Bill Buckley Accountable for Racism, January 6, and Beyond

In “Taking America Back: The Conservative Movement and the Far Right,” David Austin Walsh examines the connections between the mainstream conservative movement and fringe far-right elements in American politics. Walsh’s narrative is shaped in part by a reaction to Jonah Goldberg’s “Liberal Fascism,” which explored the intersections of liberalism and fascist ideologies. Over 320 pages, Walsh delves into the histories of several controversial figures associated with the American far-right in the mid-20th century—including Merwin K. Hart, Russell Maguire, and George Lincoln Rockwell—arguing that they are emblematic of a proverbial “conservative popular front” that emerges in opposition to New Deal policies and ultimately persists to this day. Through various vignettes, Walsh attempts to frame these figures as not merely aberrations but as integral to a broader lineage of racism and antisemitism that now influences contemporary conservatism.

Walsh’s principal contention centers on William F. Buckley, Jr., the prominent conservative figure and founder of the National Review. He posits that Buckley, who is often portrayed as the cultured face of American conservatism, was simultaneously complicit with fringe right-wing elements. Although Buckley publicly distanced himself from figures like the John Birch Society, Walsh suggests that his later dismissal and censure efforts were insufficient to sever the ties that bind these groups. The book positions Buckley as a key transitional figure whose initial resistance to blatant racism eventually gave way to toleration for these far-right ideas, particularly as they gained traction post-2008 with the rise of Donald Trump. According to Walsh, this has led to a deepening of fascist undercurrents within American conservatism, crystallized in the January 6, 2021, Capitol riots.

Throughout his account, Walsh presents a litany of lesser-known far-right figures whose ideologies straddle the line between mainstream conservatism and extremist views. For instance, he details how figures like Merwin K. Hart and Russell Maguire played significant roles in propagating isolationist and antisemitic sentiments while claiming to defend American values. Walsh’s portrayal scrutinizes how Buckley interacted with such individuals, allowing their undercurrents of racism to influence mainstream conservative thought without overt acknowledgement. While disputing these connections, critics argue that historically, Buckley’s evolution on racial issues—including his later rejection of white supremacy—presents a more nuanced picture than Walsh implies.

However, a notable deficiency in Walsh’s narrative is its lack of engagement with the critiques of the New Deal that he opposes. He frames opposition to the New Deal as inherently motivated by a desire to restore power to the elite, thereby simplifying a complex historical landscape where economic, political, and social factors intertwine. The book’s choice to ignore the legitimate critiques posited by conservatives often leads to a disconnect when seeking to demonstrate continuity between Buckley and the far-right figures with whom he was associated. Walsh’s crowded canvas of historical figures may invite intrigue but also risks muddling the essential message he hopes to convey.

In terms of style and argumentation, “Taking America Back” is characterized by a mix of fervor and frustration, often rendered in an academic style that lacks precision. Critics have noted that Walsh’s assertions occasionally lack substantive evidence, citing the omission of pertinent contextual details that would otherwise illuminate the relationships among the figures he scrutinizes. For example, Walsh references Willis Carto’s antisemitic Liberty Lobby without adequately explaining Buckley’s legal actions against him. These oversights raise questions about Walsh’s methodology and his insistence on portraying Buckley as intrinsically linked to these figures. By neglecting critical elements of Buckley’s positions against hate movements, Walsh’s conclusions risk oversimplification.

Moreover, the text’s portrayal of historical comparisons, particularly with regard to the legacy of other intellectuals like W.E.B. Du Bois, reveals an inconsistency in Walsh’s critical lens. While Walsh holds Buckley accountable for his associations, he neglects similar contexts in the leftist tradition, where figures like Du Bois navigated complicated relationships with totalitarian regimes. This imbalance raises inquiries about the fairness of scrutiny applied across the political spectrum and invites readers to reconsider how histories are constructed. Walsh’s emphasis on racial inflection within conservative ideology hints at a critical overview of American conservatism that does not engage adequately with its multifaceted history.

Ultimately, David Austin Walsh’s “Taking America Back” emerges as a provocative yet contentious examination of the connections between mainstream American conservatism and its fringe far-right elements. While he intends to draw attention to a lineage of racism and antisemitism, the execution often lacks nuance, leading to a narrative that readers may find both insightful and selectively simplistic. The oversights in historical context, alongside the failure to engage deeply with ideological strife within leftist movements, suggest a pressing need for more holistic approaches to understanding the past. As discourse around race and political identity continues to evolve, Walsh’s arguments may serve as catalysts for further dialogue on the complexities entrenched within America’s ideological landscape.