In Conservatism (1956) Peter Viereck noted that British thinkers tend to see conservatism as “an inarticulate state of mind.”  He explained, “The liberal and rationalist mind consciously articulates abstract blueprints; the conservative mind unconsciously incarnates concrete traditions.”  Although Viereck did not cite him, Stanley Baldwin summed up this view by saying, “I would rather trust a woman’s instinct than a man’s reason.”

In twentieth-century American political history, Gerald Ford (1913-2006) represented that inarticulate frame of mind, not only because as a boy he dealt with a stammer or as an adult could not pronounce certain words, so that, for example, professors and other intellectuals were to Ford “acamedicians.”  The United States’ thirty-eighth President knew he was not eloquent, and he liked a line written for him:  “I am a Ford, not a Lincoln.”

In his memoir, A Time to Heal (1979), Ford was candid about his dependence upon speechwriters, but his inarticulate conservatism emerged most clearly in that book when he found that the best way to convey his core beliefs was to quote someone else.  That statement of his basic principles occurs a few hundred pages into the book, and it comes from an English art historian.

“Conservatism has always meant more to me,” wrote Ford, “than simply sticking up for private property and free enterprise,” and he added, “It has also meant defending our heritage and preserving our values.”  Ford then quoted approvingly Kenneth Clark’s closing remarks in Civilisation (1969):

 

At this point I reveal myself in my true colours, as a stick-in-the-mud. . . . I believe that order is better than chaos, creation better than destruction.  I prefer gentleness to violence, forgiveness to vendetta.  On the whole, I think that knowledge is preferable to ignorance, and I am sure that human sympathy is more valuable than ideology.  I believe that in spite of the recent triumphs of science, men haven’t changed much in the last two thousand years, and in consequence, we must still try to learn from history. . . . Above all, I believe in the God-given genius of certain individuals, and I value a society that makes their existence possible.

 

Earlier in A Time to Heal, Ford had described his boyhood in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and the discipline instilled by his parents.  They had, he recalled, “three rules:  tell the truth, work hard, and come to dinner on time—and woe unto any of us who violated those rules.”  Douglas Brinkley, in his concise biography of Ford, noted that Ford was an Eagle Scout and always adhered to those three rules.  “That wasn’t a sophisticated philosophy,” Brinkley conceded, “but he wasn’t that sophisticated a guy.”

Yet, Ford, Yale-educated lawyer that he was, astutely discerned that whereas his disgraced predecessor had hammered on about “law and order,” Ford ought to remind people of the Constitution’s mandate “to insure domestic tranquility.”  According to Ford, insuring domestic tranquility meant making sure citizens were secure in their persons and property, free from fear of crime.  It also meant easing their tax burden and letting them decide how best to spend and invest more of their hard-earned money.

In May, 1976, George F. Will wrote in his column in Newsweek that “Ford is the most conservative President since [Calvin] Coolidge,” but while Coolidge was taciturn and laconic, “Ford is the most inarticulate President since the invention of broadcasting.”  In A Time to Heal, Ford had other journalists in mind and noted, “I kept reading in the press that I was the most conservative President since Herbert Hoover.”  It therefore baffled Ford that conservative Republicans were never content with his policies, and he wondered whether some of them, regardless of his own words and deeds, would ever be pleased with anything.

As Brinkley put it, Ford “was always a Midwest conservative with a healthy skepticism about the power of government to fundamentally change people’s lives for the better,” and related to that conservative skepticism “was his libertarian belief that the government should stay out of the boardroom, the classroom, and the bedroom.”

That libertarian streak in Ford’s thinking informed his opinion regarding what during his Presidency was becoming a major political issue, abortion.  Ford came from an era when decent people did not discuss such matters in public, and as President he approached the topic with reluctance.  “While I opposed abortion on demand,” he wrote, “I also opposed a constitutional amendment that would prohibit it.”  To him the most sensible solution was a compromise whereby a constitutional amendment would allow each state to decide the question.  He seems not to have seen the issue as being solely about a baby’s right to life.

Still, in a new age of bombast and narcissism, someone interested in preserving continuity with the biblical and classical past can find much to admire in Ford’s reticent and intuitive beliefs.  As Ford understood, Kenneth Clark’s comments could become a manifesto for cultural conservatives.  The stick-in-the-mud ideals Ford loved but could best put into words by using the words of another man will appeal to many more as common sense.

Although critics and comedians thought Ford came across as dull and even dim, he was a determined and athletic man, his broad shoulders developing from football and boxing.  During the Second World War, he saw combat in the Pacific as a Navy officer, and after the war he served twelve terms in Congress.  In his rare leisure hours and especially in retirement, if rain kept him off the golf course or the ski slopes, a pleasant day at home with his golden retriever, some Field and Stream pipe tobacco, and a book by Louis L’Amour suited him just fine.

All the while, for him, faith and family came first, and from such a reserved gentleman it comes as a surprise that more than once in A Time to Heal he described that when he and his wife, Betty, went to bed, they would then hold hands and pray.  In 1973, for Ford’s inauguration as Vice President, his son, Mike, bought a Jerusalem Bible for his father, and Ford and his wife chose Psalm 20 as the text to which it should be open when he was sworn in.

When Ford narrowly lost the 1976 presidential election, he tried to console a friend by assuring him, “there are more important things to worry about than what’s going to happen to Jerry Ford.”  Ford was gratified when his own deeper yet unformed thoughts were articulated by his son, Jack:  “If you can’t lose as graciously as you had planned to win, then you shouldn’t have been in the thing in the first place.”  Kenneth Clark would have agreed.

 

Daniel J. Heisey, O. S. B, is a Benedictine monk of Saint Vincent Archabbey, Latrobe, Pennsylvania, where he is known as Brother Bruno.  He teaches Church History at Saint Vincent S