Russell Kirk, founding father of modern conservatism

Shortly after the release of The Conservative Mind, he informed the administration at Michigan State that he didn’t want to return. He resettled in Mecosta and spent the rest of his days at the old farmstead, a home, barn and assorted outbuildings he called Piety Hill.

Russell Kirk Shaped Conservative Thought from a Northern Michigan Farm:

When Russell Kirk quit the faculty of Michigan State College in 1953, he owned one of the hottest résumés of any professor in the country. He had published more than a dozen articles in various journals that year—a fine achievement in the “publish or perish” world of higher education. More important, he was the author of a brand-new book, The Conservative Mind, which was winning rave reviews in all the right places. It would go on to become one of the most influential works of political thought in the 20th century and would position Kirk to eventually be regarded as a founding father of modern conservative thought. He was also relatively young—at just 34 years of age, Kirk stood at the dawn of what promised to be a long and bright career in academics.

Yet he gave it all up for an independent life of letters in rural Michigan. Kirk brushed aside overtures from several schools and instead he took up residence in “stump country,” a reference to what the lumberjacks had left behind years earlier.
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At a time when conservative principles are reshaping American law and culture, it is difficult to imagine that half a century ago, the conservative movement barely existed. Its few adherents struggled against the widespread perception, voiced by 19th-century British philosopher John Stuart Mill, that they comprised “the stupid party.” The literary critic Lionel Trilling equated conservative thought to “irritable mental gestures.”

Into this environment stepped Kirk, who claimed that conservatives were the inheritors of a proud tradition whose members included the likes of Edmund Burke, John Adams and Nathaniel Hawthorne. This genealogy was idiosyncratic as well as useful: it presented conservatives with an intellectual pedigree that they sorely needed.

“Before Kirk came along, conservatives didn’t even know what to call themselves,” said Lee Edwards, a historian at the Heritage Foundation in Washington, D.C. “After Kirk, they had a name for themselves.”

In The Conservative Mind, Kirk outlined a set of basic principles that defined conservatism, such as belief in a divine moral order, an understanding that private property and political freedom are linked, and a disapproval of radical change. Above
all, Kirk insisted on a deep respect for time-tested traditions: “Even the most intelligent of men cannot hope to understand all the secrets of traditional morals and social arrangements; but we may be sure that Providence, acting through the medium of human trial and error, has developed every hoary habit for some important purpose.” He often made this point by stating, simply, “The individual is foolish, the species is wise.”

Kirk was a strong supporter of conventionally conservative politicians such as Barry Goldwater, Ronald Reagan and John Engler (who represented Mecosta in the Michigan legislature before becoming governor). Yet his brand of conservatism was
also distinctive. In its application, many of today’s conservatives would recognize only parts. Kirk regarded culture as far more important than economics—he rarely bothered himself with tax policy and viewed capitalism itself with some apprehension.

What’s more, he was so skeptical of foreign entanglements that he cast a presidential vote, in 1944, for Norman Thomas, a socialist and pacifist who opposed U.S. involvement in the Second World War. Later, Kirk criticized the Vietnam War in the 1960’s and the Gulf War in 1991.
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Yet even in Mecosta there was the occasional comer. One of them was William F. Buckley, Jr., a young man who was planning to start a political magazine. He flew to Michigan in 1955 with the hope of persuading Kirk to become a columnist. Upon his arrival in Mecosta, Buckley stopped at a pay phone and asked for Dr. Kirk’s number.

“You looking for Russell?” inquired the operator. “He’s at the store right now.” The two men met and went out for dinner and drinks. Kirk accepted Buckley’s offer, beginning a formal association with National Review that would last for 25 years.