Why wets are all wet: conservatives ought to run dry--i.e., as conservatives.

SUZANNE FIELDS in a recent column detected some eerie crunching sounds that she worried might be early signs of the conservative coalition's cracking up. By my count the conservative coalition has been cracking up regularly since Ronald Reagan left office and R. Emmett Tyrrell heard very similar sounds. Blows were then exchanged between libertarians and the Christian Right. But the Democrats encouraged the coalition to get together again.

The immediate cause of Ms. Fields's anxiety was Rod Dreher's new book launching the cause of "crunchy conservatism." This argues that conservative support for free markets should be tempered by concern for nature, family life, religion, and social stability. My sense is that conservatism, as opposed to libertarianism, has always accepted such limits to pure capitalist competition. I share Jonah Goldberg's feeling that Rod is exaggerating the novelty of crunchy conservatism and in the process giving himself a not-wholly-deserved pat on the back: "Lord, Lord, I thank thee that I am not as these other conservatives who shop not wisely but too well." This may be irritating but it hardly constitutes a deep moral divide. So I doubt that either National Review or the wider conservative movement will crack up over crunchiness.

But Ms. Fields's antennae had picked up real anxieties all the same--in fact she had hit on two. First, the faithful are concerned that both the White House and Congress have betrayed traditional conservative values on a wide range of policies from the budget to immigration. Second, they sense from opinion polls that the GOP might lose control of the legislative and executive branches in the 2006 and 2008 elections, respectively. Add together these two anxieties and you have the oldest problem in politics: You have sold your soul for a mess of pottage--and you may not get the mess of pottage.

As long as the GOP clings to power, this nagging sense of emptiness can be held at bay. Doing new things, even mistaken or heretical things, is a distraction. Once the GOP finds itself ejected from power either wholly or in part, however, conservatives will have to come to terms with the gradual replacement of their philosophy by catchy slogans such as "compassionate conservatism." And if tax cuts have themselves been cut or neutered by then, they will have little to show for their support of the party--some good judicial appointments, holding the line on abortion, not much else. What will conservatism, crunchy or otherwise, then do?

Britain's Tory party illustrates the dangers. The Tories have not really known what they stood for since midway through the John Major administration (1992-97) when Major's "managerialism" hit the skids on the day the pound fell out of the European Exchange Rate Mechanism. Tory elders wanted to distance themselves from Mrs. Thatcher because she was thought to be harsh, uncaring, and unpopular. But there was no alternative approach readily to hand. And the attempts to shape a new philosophy of "modernization" (by Michael Portillo and his supporters in 2001) never really got beyond the stage of slogans and short-term tactical maneuvers such as gender preferences in candidate selection. It was little more than sincere flattery of Tony Blair.

Under three leaders--all able and decent--this ideological stalemate continued. Party infighting ensured that no single consistent political strategy was adopted. And the sense of moral hollowness at the core of post-Thatcherite Toryism became almost tangible. You might say there was perfect sympathy between the party and the voters: The party had nothing to say and the voters were not interested in listening to it anyway.

All this changed late last year when David Cameron was elected party leader on a wave of enthusiasm. All of a sudden press and public were interested in the Tories and their glamorous new champion. He was explicitly promising a "modern compassionate conservatism" for a new Britain. And in late February he produced his detailed prescription.

What does it say? What does it ignore? And what is the political strategy underlying it?

What it ignores is rather more important than what it says. Its 614 words say nothing about (in no particular order) Iran, Iraq, the police, Muslim diasporas in Britain, immigration, multiculturalism, or the European Union. Some of these topics are arguably alluded to in the soft and mollifying phrases that characterize the document. But the general impression that it gives is a firm desire to blur every contentious issue in order not to offend anyone.

What it says is more complex and more devious. It opens with the new Tory party's aims ("a dynamic economy ... a strong society ... a sustainable environment"), goes on to its values ("trust ... a shared responsibility for our shared future"), refers in passing to the actual Tory party ("open and inclusive ... representative of modern Britain"), and gets finally to the nub of "what we're fighting for."

Here the document seems to be arguing that the Tories should junk many of their traditional conservative values and sign on to a philosophy that is halfway between Rod's crunchy conservatism and a paternalistic, interventionist social democracy that the new sentimental Britain is believed to favor. A few examples:

Item One: "We will put economic stability and fiscal responsibility first. They must come before tax cuts. Over time, we will share the proceeds of growth between public services and lower taxes."

Item Two: "We will improve the [National Health Service] and schools for everyone, not help a few to opt out."

Item Three: "It is our moral obligation to make poverty history. We will fight for free and fair trade, increase international aid, and press for further debt relief."

Item Four: "We understand the limitations of government, but are not limited in our aspirations for government. We believe in the role of government as a force for good."

The problem with these high-sounding declarations is that they clash with important realities that Thatcherite conservatism understood. For instance, the argument that economic stability must come before tax cuts ignores the fact that tax cuts stimulate economic growth and so contribute to stability. They are not sweeties handed out to the sweaty nightcaps. Similarly, the right to opt out of state services and take some of your money with you in the form of vouchers is a better method of improving those services than relying on the complaints of captive consumers to do so. And, finally, if "fair trade" is incorporated in government policy, then it will inevitably restrict free trade.

But this is where political strategy comes into play. The Cameronians point out that almost every one of the six statements is balanced (or, if you prefer, contradictory). The item on making poverty history, for instance, ends with this point: "We will also take action to build those institutions--like the rule of law and property rights--that support development." That on taxation concludes: "Over time, we will share the proceeds of growth between public services and lower taxes--instead of letting government spend an ever-increasing share of national income." And the section on public services argues that "services paid for by the state don't have to be run by the state. We will trust professionals and share responsibility--instead of controlling professionals in state monopolies." In other words, what the left hand giveth, the right hand taketh away a little of. Or that is what they quietly tell nervous friends.

They even have a scenario or"narrative" to accompany the document. The soft-sounding leftish principles are designed to drive right-wing loyalists such as Norman Tebbit and Ann Widdecombe to protest noisily. That would constitute the moment that the modernizers have long schemed to provoke when, imitating Tony Blair's victory over the paled-socialist Left, they will stand up to the Right and establish themselves as moderate and non-nasty in the eyes of all nice people. Thus fortified with popular approval from the left, they can win an election on the high-sounding general principles and then govern on the basis of the fine-print qualifications--dividing the proceeds of growth between the government and the taxpayer, etc., etc.

But this scenario is not going according to plan. Lord Tebbit and Ms. Widdecombe are much too smart to fall into such an obvious trap. They quickly declared that they could happily sign the document, which contained nothing very new, even if the language in it was dripping wet. The confrontation proved to be not a bang but a whimper. Nor are the long-term elements of this strategy very persuasive. Though we may well campaign in poetry and govern in prose, as MarioCuomo once said, it is naive to believe that a political leader can campaign on soothing sentimental Left platitudes and then retain public support when he tries to implement a firmer and more realistic conservative program. He would not be able to carry his program through against a resentful electorate, cynical media, and a manipulated party. What such a strategy mainly reveals is that the hollowness at the heart of British conservatism has not been filled by anything more substantial than calculation. The Tories are still a party in search of a political philosophy, an empty vessel that, these days, is making a little more noise.

It is not a model that American conservatives should wish to emulate. If the GOP is looking for an example of a conservative party that is robust philosophically and successful electorally, it need look no farther than John Howard's Australian Liberal party. Howard has won four successive elections, introduced a series of major conservative economic reforms, presided over astonishing growth in the Australian economy, and won over sections of the electorate that until recently were wedded to the Labour party. There are many reasons for Howard's success. Most frequently mentioned is his perseverance. But I will hazard one of my own: Howard would rather be right than nice.