Former Vice President Dick Cheney died on November 3 at 84 from complications of pneumonia layered over chronic heart and vascular disease, leaving a career that mixed real accomplishment with serious controversy. This piece walks through the forces he shaped — a stronger military, decisive moments after 9/11, and policies that traded liberty for security — and highlights Glenn Beck’s view that Cheney leaves a “complicated legacy,” says Glenn Beck.
Cheney’s time as defense secretary in 1989 set a tone that mattered for years. He pushed the idea that “a nation that can’t defend itself isn’t going to remain free,” and he helped finish a defense revival that paid off quickly in the Gulf War. That focus on capability and readiness reshaped the military into something the country could be proud of, and Glenn captures that shift bluntly: “For the first time in decades, Americans felt pride without apology when it came to our military,” says Glenn.
Choosing Cheney as a running mate in 2000 was, in Republican terms, a smart move that steadied a novice president in a high-stakes era. When the planes hit on September 11, 2001, his steadiness mattered in the opening hours. “He was steady, emotionless, and firm. He didn’t tremble. He didn’t panic,” says Glenn, “and in those first few hours, America needed that.”
Yet the same resolve that fortified national defense also pushed the nation into gray, long wars and an expanded security state. Cheney was a major architect of the push into Iraq, and what started as a clear objective blurred into years of grinding conflict. “[The war] just stretched on and on and on, and the mission became blurry. Freedom became a slogan instead of a strategy, and freedom started to take a different meaning here in America,” says Glenn.
The aftermath of 9/11 brought sweeping legal and institutional changes that mixed protection with intrusive power. Cheney played a key role in the rapid passage of the Patriot Act, the birth of the Department of Homeland Security, and broader FISA surveillance authorities. Glenn does not mince words about the tradeoffs: “None of those things had anything to do with freedom,” says Glenn.
Biothreats and fear of unconventional attacks tightened Cheney’s focus on biodefense and research funding. Project BioShield flowed from that urgency, channeling billions to countermeasures and accelerated research. “So it was Dick Cheney that urged men like Dr. Anthony Fauci to push research further, faster into what we now call gain of function,” says Glenn.
Looking back, Beck frames Cheney’s life as an object lesson for conservatives: the rewards of strength and the risks of excess often arrive together. He captures that tension with a short, pointed line: He teaches us both “the virtue of strength and the peril of excess.”
That contrast shows in how Cheney is remembered politically and culturally. “He was the iron for many years in America’s spine after decades of doubt. But he was also a reminder that iron rusts if it is left unexamined,” says Glenn. For Republicans who value both security and liberty, Cheney’s record forces a real debate about limits and oversight.
Beck’s final words in this piece underline the mixed mark Cheney leaves: “Dick Cheney was a conservative for a man of his time, but he lost one of the main principles, and that is: Conservatives believe in the rule of law and the Constitution. He’s a patriot, yes, but he’s also a warning to us. He helped America find its courage, but he also taught us how easily courage can drift into control.”
To hear more of Glenn’s commentary and analysis, watch the clip above.
