Dad’s theme was liberty. That’s what drove him.
Rarely is a journalist faced with the newsworthy occurrence of his father being awarded, posthumously, a significant public honor. But that’s what happened Saturday night, when Haywood Hillyer III was into the h Political Hall of Fame for 35 years of volunteer work in the trenches helping build the state’s once-moribund Republican Party.
My late father is one of — including my mentor and friend, the eminently deserving — in . The Hall is part of the , a gem of an institution, in Winnfield.
Last year, before Dad was selected, I wrote a about his belief that political participation was a civic duty in which “honor and trust are crucial … [and] political opponents need not be personal enemies, [and] all forms of bigotry have no valid place in American life.”
What, then, is the substance of the political philosophy that induced my father to devote decades to unremunerative toil? In laying this out, I am trying to not project my beliefs onto Dad, but to accurately reflect his own — which, granted, were about 90% aligned with mine, but not entirely.
As an entry point, start with immigration: an issue that certainly wasn’t my father’s main interest, but which is uber-controversial now and for which I know (while not entirely agreeing with) my father’s views quite well. It helps elucidate his broader beliefs.
Like most conservatives, Dad was firmly against leniency for illegal immigrants, but he went farther (although not nearly as far, nor for the same reasons, as Team Trump does). Unlike my view, Dad also wanted somewhat restrictive limits on legal immigration, albeit while wanting to streamline the rigmarole involved. What’s important, though, is his reasoning.
Dad didn’t care about the color or nationality or educational background of immigrants, believing all should be in the same queue. But he thought the number of legal immigrants should be pre-limited each year. Why? Because the American system is a special blessing that needs nurturing.
Most people don’t instinctually understand that the rule of law can complement, not impede, maximum liberty. Most people don’t come from political cultures where the very point of law is to protect liberty rather than to project power, where the consent of the governed is paramount, and where rights are seen not as grants from government but as preexisting verities to which government must bow.
These concepts must be . Alas, for decades, we Americans haven’t even done well at for our own progeny, much less for the foreign-born.
Dad didn’t want to erase other cultural practices — food, music, family traditions — but he believed civic acculturation takes hard work. He believed that without proper assimilation of newcomers, both our own system and the newcomers’ welfare could be adversely affected. Hence, while immigrants should be not just welcomed but encouraged, they should come in a steady, predictable stream, reasonably (but not severely) limited in annual numbers.
The point, Dad believed, was that our constitutional system is profoundly good and profoundly workable, but also somewhat fragile. If too many newcomers come too fast, he thought acclimation would fail.
Now let’s leave immigration aside. What Dad believed made the system profoundly important to protect was its aspiration to maximum individual liberty that doesn’t impinge the liberty of others. He believed people can thrive if coercive institutions don’t interfere. He believed the main job of the national government was to provide for defense, and the main job of local government was to strictly enforce criminal laws, but that all levels of government should write fewer laws to enforce at all.
Dad distrusted centralized power — in government and anywhere else. What Dad loved were local, volunteer organizations: neighbors freely choosing to join neighbors in worthy endeavors.
All of which meant he wanted government as small, and as local, as possible. And while he thought government can be a provider of last resort for the poor and the infirm, he believed government by its nature wasn’t a very effective distributor of goods, services and lasting aid. A compassionate man, Dad thought a too-big government was a hindrance to effective compassion.
Moreover, he saw the power involved in bigger government as a threat to the freedom he cherished for all citizens, regardless of race or creed.
There’s lots more, but you get the picture: Dad’s outlook was coherent — and unselfish. Agree or not with his notions of what works best in practice, his motivations were patently admirable.
In the words of the Constitution’s preamble, that’s why Dad spent so many years, largely behind the scenes, as a political volunteer: “to secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity.”
I am overjoyed that the h Political Hall of Fame is honoring his idealistic efforts.