A Republican and a Harvard Man

I remember freshman move-in well: meeting roommates, delaying goodbyes to family, and rifling through boxes trying to remember where I packed my neck-ties. Amid all the activity, I noticed my father frowning down at the latest edition of The Crimson. When I asked what was troubling him, he silently handed me the paper and pointed at the offending text: “Republican: Rare political species targeted for extinction by the dominant, ‘open-minded’ liberal populace which rules the Yard roost. Watch them as they graze.” He shrugged apologetically and said, “Good luck. It’ll be a long four years.”

Harvard’s student body is a potpourri of races, sexualities, and socioeconomic backgrounds, but the diversity on campus comes to a screeching halt when one considers political philosophy. The Crimson’s freshman survey for the Class of 2018 found, “A plurality of respondents identified...as ‘somewhat liberal,’ whereas only a combined 15 percent of respondents identified as somewhat or very conservative.” I cannot feign astonishment. Throughout freshman fall, I became accustomed to the dawning looks of suspicion on my new friends’ faces as we discussed the ongoing campaign. Inevitably, I’d be confronted with the horrified question, “You’re not a Republican, are you?” I must give them credit, for they were compassionate when I answered in the affirmative; they patted my hand gently and promised that we’d get through this together, as if the revelation of my ideology was akin to diagnosis with some fatal cancer.

Assuming that I am a reasonably intelligent person (I did, after all, gain admission to this school), why then am I a conservative?

There is good, and evil, and both exist in the world. Human beings contain differing quantities of both. One need not examine the historical record long before finding proof of my assertion. Despite this, for centuries there has been an enduring strain of thought that preaches that if everyone were just a little more like “us” - insert your favored “us” here - then everything would be fine. But somehow, no matter which “us” holds the reins, conditions never reach the ideal. Why in 2014 do we insist on moral absolutes and strict ideology?

Conservatism is for me the ultimate pragmatic realism, acceptance of the world as it is and not how we wish it would be: We ought to conserve that which is good in the world, and combat that which is bad. People are not perfectable, and neither can the nations they create be perfect. Too many American conservatives believe that utopia was achieved with the ratification of the Constitution, and too many liberals believe that it will be achieved if they can just guarantee birth control for everyone. In truth, no such thing will come to pass–the new Jerusalem lies outside of Washington’s grasp.

Conservatives are often parodied as opponents of “progress” simply as a matter of principle. On the contrary, we recognize that “progress” can be either good or bad, depending on the direction in which one is advancing. Conservatives should not be mindless parrots simply shouting the word “No,” but rather the killjoys thºat listen to liberals explain their latest pipe dream and then ask, “Spectacular, but how shall we pay for it?”

My conservative vision bears little resemblance to the contemporary American variety. Where is my refusal to accept empirical data on global warming, the insistence on abstinence-only sexual education, the sanctimonious preaching on homosexuality? Well, to be frank, nowhere. I enjoy framing my ideology with the colloquialism, “If it ain’t broke, it ought not be fixed.” Believing this is not the same as believing that nothing in the world is broken; that would be the height of folly. One need only look at the riots in Ferguson, or teen pregnancy rates, or the death toll in Syria to confirm that all is not well in our world. Refusing to find solutions simply because you are personally comfortable is indicative of a deep irresponsibility and apathy. Trust me, I long for the days when liberals were the ones who rejected the heavy burden of reality. But mine is a different social context. To maintain fidelity to my political beliefs I must dispense with rose-colored glasses and see what is front of me.

Andrew B. Pardue ’16 is a government concentrator in Mather House. His column appears every other Tuesday.