William F. Buckley’s sharp mind still shapes conservatism

A century after his birth, Buckley remains a touchstone for conservative thought

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William F. Buckley died in 2008. He’d have been 100 years old this coming November.

After the 1951 publication of his first book, God and Man at Yale, Buckley embarked on a career that saw him become one of America’s most prominent public intellectuals and the generally acknowledged godfather of American conservatism. At his peak, his twice-weekly column ran in over 300 newspapers, and his magazine, National Review, became essential reading for anyone wishing to understand the ideas animating modern conservatism. Ronald Reagan was a longtime subscriber, and it was also intellectual fodder for the young Stephen Harper.

It was television that turned Buckley into a celebrity. When New York City’s WOR-TV broadcast the first episode of Firing Line on April 30, 1966, it’s unlikely that anyone thought it would become American television’s longest-running public affairs show with a single host. But that’s what happened.

Firing Line’s best years were the early ones, and it’s fair to say that those interested in lively public affairs discussion found it riveting television. Although Buckley was a full-blooded conservative, Firing Line’s audience included many liberals. Part of the appeal was the sheer novelty of a hyper-articulate conservative strutting his stuff, while another was the intellectual quality of the discussion. And perhaps the most enticing element was the irresistible lure of combat.

Firing Line’s model was the boxing ring. To quote the original director, it was “a challenge to the liberal establishment to see if their champions could go three rounds with the boy wonder.” And there was no shortage of big-name candidates willing to try their luck. Some did better than others, but, fast on his feet both intellectually and rhetorically, Buckley was a formidable debater with a particular facility for the kind of verbal thrust that even his opponents ruefully admired.

Between 1951 and 2008, Buckley racked up more than 50 books. Some were collections of his columns, but most were original material, including five travel books—two of which were bestsellers—and 19 novels. Of the latter, 11 were spy stories featuring the exploits of CIA agent Blackford Oakes, a fictional figure many observers saw as being based on a version of Buckley himself.

Unlike the “plague on both their houses” attitude prevalent in much spy fiction of the time, Buckley had no problem distinguishing between good guys and bad guys. Moral ambiguity had no place in his world: “We might in secure conscience lie and steal in order to secure the escape of human beings from misery or death.” Stalin had no such right.

Various real historical characters made an appearance in the series. For instance, the Kennedy brothers, Lyndon Johnson, Fidel Castro and Che Guevara. Interestingly, the portrait of Che as a complex and conflicted figure was more balanced than you might expect.

Published in early 1976 and set in 1952, Saving the Queen got the ball rolling, and its bestseller status established a commercial precedent that continued through most of the series. In it, Oakes intervened to save the fictitious Queen Caroline of England from the machinations of a Soviet nuclear spy, bedding her in the process (the related scene is the one place where Buckley’s legendary ease with language failed him).

The New York Times review had something of a grudging quality. The language was described as “tipsy on subordinate clauses” and marked by “an unrelenting archness.” Nonetheless, the book was “a serviceable entertainment” that had “a lot more wit than most thriller writers can manage.”

Writing about the series’ penultimate novel 18 years later, the paper was a tad more effusive. The reviewer noted how Buckley “has made an engaging specialty of grafting provocative fictional scenarios onto bygone showdowns with the Evil Empire—the Bay of Pigs, the space race, the Berlin Wall.” As for the book at hand, “The plot may lack complexity, but the ethical issues raised along the way receive thoughtful, nuanced treatment.”

If you’ve never read anything in the Blackford Oakes series but have a yen to, track down a copy of the second novel, 1978’s Stained Glass, which combines the customary stylish prose with a level of tension superior to that of the other novels. Set in West Germany, the story revolves around the fictional Count Axel Wintergrin, a charismatic politician who sets out to reunite the two Germanies. However, both Cold War protagonists conclude that he’s a danger to European stability and thus his election must be prevented at all costs. And although Oakes is an admirer, he winds up being reluctantly complicit in Wintergrin’s physical demise.

Whatever one may think of William F. Buckley, he was clearly a man of many talents.

Troy Media columnist Pat Murphy casts a history buff’s eye at the goings-on in our world. Never cynical – well, perhaps a little bit.