David M. Shribman: A posthumous critique for liberals

Barney Frank, the irascible but indispensable liberal lawmaker from Massachusetts who died this spring, was never known as a man of few words. Yet the opening of his book, issued posthumously just the other day, is worthy of the conservative Massachusetts president Calvin Coolidge, who gave new meaning to the term taciturn. The entire text of Mr. Frank's first paragraph is: "Mea culpa."

Those two words are proxy for perhaps the most famous opening of a book since "In the beginning ..." Another famous opening was written by Charles Dickens and has been beloved, and quoted, by millions since it was written in 1859, especially resonant since it speaks to our time, too:

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way."

All that Dickensian language applies to contemporary America, which is why Mr. Frank's "The Hard Path to Unity" is such an important work ― perhaps the most consequential volume written by a politician on the left, for readers on the left, in this age. Moreover, it may be a companion to Barry Goldwater's 1960 "The Conscience of a Conservative." The fourth sentence of that book reads this way: "The challenge to Conservatives today is quite simply to demonstrate the bearing of a proven philosophy on the problems of our own time."

Mr. Frank tells us the challenge to liberals today is quite simply to demonstrate the bearing of a proven philosophy on the problems of our own time.

But first the critique, which in this case is a fancy term for criticism. It comes right after the searing opening two words:

"This book is an effort to undo the damage inflicted by a tragic historical irony. Well-intentioned but deeply flawed choices made by those most deeply committed to liberal values ― my fellow and sister members of the democratic left ― are largely responsible for the political strength that xenophobic populism has come to enjoy in the developed world."

What does he mean by that?

That the left, packed with the highly educated and thus the highly affluent, wasn't moved to address the wealth gap that benefited its adherents. That the left increasingly became identified in the broader culture with what he calls "an agenda that most voters found unacceptable," adding, "Enough saw it as an assault on their values to determine electoral outcomes."

Here the historically minded might flick back again to Barry Goldwater, who died 28 years ago.

To oversimplify ― which is what columnists who write 1,000-word essays do for a living ― the Arizonan lost the 1964 presidential election in part because of a devastating television ad that was aired only once but that encapsulated Americans' fears about the Republican nominee: a brilliant spot that married the innocence of a young girl picking daisy petals with the explosion of an atomic weapon. It is possible that Kamala Harris lost the presidency 60 years later in large measure because of the television ad that concluded with the devastating kicker, "Kamala is for they/them. Donald Trump is for you."

Democratic candidates in this fall's midterm congressional elections ― and in the 2028 presidential campaign ― would do well to contemplate Mr. Frank's argument that "denunciations of the moral defects of populism's supporters, no matter how soul-satisfying, do much more to reinforce those supporters' commitment to their cause than induce them to rethink it."

And here is Mr. Frank's analysis of the liberals' conundrum: "our perfect political storm in which a critical mass of voters refuses to believe a large majority of the left when we commit to a more equitable distributing of our wealth, because they apparently believe that once we are in power, a small internal minority with whom most of us disagree will dictate policy."

This actually may underestimate the liberals' problem, for it is arguable that a large majority of those attracted to today's conservative populism believe that the entire suite of liberal ideas is designed to keep liberals in power, that in essence liberals in politics (and elsewhere: in the universities, in the high councils of banking and investment) are, to cop a phrase from white-collar crime, self-dealing.

Mr. Frank is known for his support of LGBTQ+ rights, but he argues that sometimes ― the times that involve contention over bitterly contested social issues ― it is best to move slowly. In identifying the schisms within the left, he argues that the most ardent advocates for change can be accused of "doing more harm than good by insisting that their preferred solutions be immediately adopted by a unified left."

When he was in hospice and saying many of these things, he said the advantage of being near death was that people were paying greater attention to him. Now that he is gone ― now that the time of the gentleman has expired ― there may be even more urgency for his party colleagues to listen to him.

For the message isn't only upbraiding. It is, for liberals, uplifting.

"If liberalism's defenders show that the economic goals of growth and equity can be mutually reinforcing; that fundamental improvements in the fabric of society can be implemented in a politically acceptable way; and that we can profit by exploiting populism's weaknesses as they have exploited ours," he argues, "we will be able to preserve our most important values."

But take a moment and substitute the word "conservatism" for "liberalism" and it thus would read:

"If conservatism's defenders show that the economic goals of growth and equity can be mutually reinforcing; that fundamental improvements in the fabric of society can be implemented in a politically acceptable way; and that we can profit by exploiting populism's weaknesses as they have exploited ours," he might counsel conservatives, "we will be able to preserve our most important values."

Maybe in speaking from the grave ― not because that's a safe space to pontificate but because he didn't finish his manifesto swiftly enough to go on a book tour, and in any case was too ill ― Mr. Frank is speaking to us all.

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David M. Shribman is the former executive editor of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.