What Is A Progressive Conservative?

From Teddy Roosevelt and Benjamin Disraeli to today

The famous “Equestrian Statue of Theodore Roosevelt” was just removed from its prominent position outside the entrance to the American Museum of Natural History in New York City. But despite this, recent years have seen something of a Roosevelt revival. Two major political figures—Josh Hawley and Elizbeth Warren—who disagree on nearly everything, agree that Teddy has significantly influenced their thought. Such bipartisan support is hardly new: since his cousin Franklin was elected in 1933, Americans on both sides of the aisle have jockeyed to claim his political legacy. It’s possible this is simply partisans hoping to ride a popular president’s coattails, but the reality is deeper: Teddy was a self-described “progressive conservative.” This ideology has all but faded from the modern American consciousness, but it clearly continues to have broad appeal. We can’t understand Teddy’s popularity and legacy without understanding what progressive conservatism actually is.  

Teddy Roosevelt's statue on Roosevelt island on a cold January morning. Jeff Vincent/Flickr.

The words “progressive” and “conservative” said together sound discordant to modern ears. After all, are these two words not complete opposites?  “Progress” (with a big “P”) has been the left’s exclusive domain just as “conservative” belongs to the right. But the historical truth has never been that simple. The phrase “progressive conservative” entered our political lexicon in the late 19th and early 20th centuries to refer to figures such as Teddy and British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli, whose political and social aims were transformative. The Industrial Revolution had disrupted the established political order; these progressive conservative reformers hoped that by transforming their nation’s politics, they could better preserve ordered liberty of their nations. They advocated for reform and “progress” not from radical political notions, but because the institutions that made life fulfilling—religion, family, community, and so on—needed to adapt to survive. In following this path, the first progressive conservatives were not proposing a radical political notion. They pulled this path from a long tradition of thinkers such as Edmund Burke and Alexis de Tocqueville, who shared the common theme of blending tradition and progress. These men defied the political conventions of their times to build a political middle ground capable of withstanding revolution. 

But progressive conservatism can’t be understood in purely theoretical terms; Teddy’s conservation is a good example of how it looks in policy. Nineteenth century standard government practice had given priority to economic development and had taken a hands-off approach to regulating corporate behavior. The natural world was admired by all, but typically viewed as part of the private world. Roosevelt was concerned that modern industrial technology would enable business ventures to spoil and callously tame the United States’s natural beauty. This beauty, he firmly believed, lifted the human soul and improved the lives of all. Stewardship of the natural environment was Teddy’s solution. Human beings needed to change their relationship with nature, no longer using it thoughtlessly. This  task required the government to transform its relationship to the environment. 

A statue of Teddy Roosevelt in Portland, since toppled by a mob during in 2020. Ian Sane/Flickr.

This is a clear example of  progressive conservatism. On one hand, it upholds an old-fashioned and eternal value—the beauty of the natural world for its own sake—but through  new and modern means that force us to rethink our policy goals. Our contemporary moment—like Teddy’s own late nineteenth century—is one of seemingly constant change. New technology and cultural attitudes shift at a stunning rate. Unsurprisingly, progressive conservatism has a great deal to offer modern politics. Increasingly, those on the right understand that standing athwart history and yelling “stop,” changes little; history marches on whether we like it or not. And those on the left increasingly acknowledge that a better future can’t be built in a vacuum, but must rely on a great past. Between these two rising tides, progressive conservatism may offer some hope for a great American future.