Every day I wake up with the same thought: "I used to be such a goddamned idiot."
I am a former Republican. And I wasn't merely the libertarian, live-and-let-live, fun-at-parties kind of conservative whose primary concern is balancing the budget; I was a spiteful, narrow-minded, fire-breathing paranoid lunatic who questioned the patriotism and morality of my liberal fellow citizens. Recognizing the error of my ways has done wonders for my mental health but left me with constant, unremitting remorse; I really want to go back in time and kick my own ass.
Surely I am not alone: Earlier this year independents sympathized with Democrats two-to-one over Republicans, whereas they were evenly split five years ago; a slim majority of young voters voted for Sen. John Kerry in 2004, but nearly 70 percent chose Barack Obama in 2008, the widest margin in electoral history. Traditionally people shift rightward as their bank accounts expand and their flesh wrinkles, but my generation is seemingly the first to move leftward with age.
Actually, I was a passionate liberal when I entered college in September 2001, and I initially resisted the GOP's post-9/11 fury and propaganda. I decried the suspension of habeas corpus and the 2003 Iraq invasion and feared for our country when dissent was equated with treason in the popular imagination. And then a few things happened:
• A handful of my friends joined the College Republicans. As our drunken nights accumulated -- with Fox News always in the background and a stack of vitriolic books cracked open -- I found myself questioning my assumptions. Craving the acceptance of my peers like any other insecure college kid, I gradually accepted their self-reinforcing groupthink, slowly but surely inching toward the Dark Side.
• A handful of my fellow campus left-wingers appeared to excessively sympathize with right-wing Islamists, rationalizing the violence of suicide bombers, for example, but refusing to criticize (on multicultural grounds) heinous civil rights abuses across the globe. The starry-eyed George W. Bush acolytes who called for the expansion-by-explosion of worldwide freedom -- despite opposing countless domestic liberties -- seemed righteous in comparison.
• A handful of my professors injected their utopian and hypersensitive politics into the classroom, calling for a "socialist revolution" and grading me poorly for using "heteronormative" language. Rebelling against their authority, as they had rebelled against conservative professorial authority in their student days, felt as natural as doing a keg stand at a fraternity party.
• A super liberal girlfriend dumped me, sparking my testosterone-fueled bitterness toward everything that reminded me of her, such as left-wing politics and basically all human females.
Very few people in their late teens and early twenties seek justice in moderation. The hormone-soaked college years are a time of extremes, our changing identities often defined by dissent-quashing affiliations, leaving us to later cringe at our frenzied "Goldfish Liberation phase," "Castrate the Phallusocracy phase," "Noam Chomsky phase" or "Ayn Rand phase." (Yes, I spent a summer vacation trying to finish reading "Atlas Shrugged," ultimately throwing in the towel around page 75,000.)
Much like our previous chief executive, I should have seen the danger of sealing myself in an echo chamber to prevent contamination from outside viewpoints; I began only hanging out with conservative true believers, only reading conservative books, only getting my news from conservative media outlets. In order to avoid journalistic "left-wing bias," I embraced right-wing bias, foolishly confusing sensationalist entertainment with debate and truth-telling. Outrage became my drug of choice.
There was no single moment when I transformed into an unhinged, raving authoritarian; propaganda works in repetition -- in accumulation -- and worldviews rarely change overnight. However, as your skepticism weakens, a new understanding of history develops. Whereas Liberal Me viewed America improving over time with the progression of civil rights and sexual liberation, Conservative Me viewed history as an unfolding catastrophe: In my mind, "socialist" handouts threatened our laissez-faire way of life, as if public roads/schools/libraries were no different than Stalin's gulags, and hedonistic decadence -- facilitated and encouraged by scheming left-wing nihilists -- threatened individual self-control. I mistakenly came to believe that America had not progressed toward justice but fallen from grace.
I railed in conversation and on my website against "freedom-hating hippies," "activist judges who overturn the will of the people," "pro-abortion feminazis," "Marxist Democrats," "elitist, so-called intellectuals," "greedy welfare queens," "environmental whack jobs" and other perceived bogeymen. I lost sight of grayscale and instead saw the world in black and white; I labeled Terri Schiavo's husband a money-hungry murderer for pulling the plug on his comatose wife, lumped all Palestinians together with the few terrorists among their population, uttered racial/sexual/ethnic slurs with a little too much enthusiasm for simple prurience and approvingly repeated Michael Savage's book title "Liberalism Is a Mental Disorder." I even argued that women belong in the home, not the workplace! (Now a self-employed author, I cook dinner for my girlfriend nightly and perform household chores -- groceries, laundry, dishes -- when she heads to the office. Truly I am a domestic goddess.)
My sudden transformation mystified my friends and family, many of whom tried to talk sense into me when they didn't outright disown me. Even my conservative father said I was going overboard. For example: wondering if my 90-year-old grandmother was a Commie for cashing her Social Security checks. In order to heed your inner Joe McCarthy, you must first squelch your inner conscience.
Strangest of all, I developed a finger-wagging puritan bent, which made absolutely no sense for a 20-year-old guy who was getting laid and intoxicated on a steady basis. I blamed "the anti-family Left" for encouraging couples to divorce and youngsters to fornicate, as if liberals were all conspiring together to destroy the traditional family, as if liberal states do not have lower rates of divorce and teen pregnancy than their conservative counterparts. My hypocrisy is mystifying in retrospect -- why would I bash sexual liberation while having sloppy drunken unmarried sex whenever possible? -- but perhaps conservative politicians such as John Ensign, Mark Sanford, David Vitter, Larry Craig and Newt Gingrich can explain.
You might imagine my moralizing stemmed from our cultural anxiety about sexuality, but it actually came from a longstanding need to position myself as superior to others; I got off on presenting my fellow millennials as pleasure-seeking, unthinking/unfeeling animals while my life had Truth and Meaning. It was incredibly self-righteous and self-congratulatory, and it was only about 50 percent accurate.
None of this would haunt me so deeply if I did not have a national platform to air my histrionic, uninformed opinions. However, I was uncommonly lucky for my age. In 2004 MTV/Pocket Books published my book "Generation S.L.U.T.," which described the anonymous hook-up culture among contemporary American youth and unleashed a storm of publicity. Although I am proud of the book's emotional nakedness (apart from its amateurish didacticism), the book's promotion is another story: In Salon, the New York Times, and countless other interviews (newspaper, radio, TV, blogs) I blamed the psychological turbulence of modern teenagers -- from wrist-cutting to school shootings -- on the 1960s feminist revolution. I sounded like a bitter middle-aged man; I even flattered the ultimate bitter middle-aged man, Bill O'Reilly, whom I asked to "be my friend" during a Fox News Channel appearance. (O'Reilly appeared confused by the request. For the record: I am friends with every Irish person, minus the nondrinkers, who do not exist.)
I completely understand why conservatives-turned-liberals such as Arianna Huffington and David Brock and liberals-turned-conservatives such as P.J. O'Rourke and David Horowitz spend decades walking back their youthful ramblings. When millions upon millions of people remember you for something that you no longer represent -- if you think they remember you anyway, which they probably do not -- the shame is unbearable, the desire for a time machine pathological. The temptation is to become an extremist in the opposite direction -- LOOK how much I've changed, everybody! -- which is hardly an act of maturity. The dilemma remains: You have evolved, yet the perception of you remains stuck in a misguided past. (At a recent literary event someone asked me, "Aren't you the guy who thinks women shouldn't have sex?" I'm misanthropic, yes, but willing to concede that humanity should probably reproduce.)
However, I might have never recovered from my right-wing fever if not for the controversy I caused. Readers sent me hate mail following a Salon interview with Rebecca Traister, in which I bashed feminism and articulated such thoughts as: "Men don't see women as clean and pure but as a means to an end, a nice little fuck-hole." One Salon reader even threatened my physical safety.
But middle-aged liberal psychologist Steve Edgell took another approach: calmly and gently talking me back to earth. Over the course of many e-mails and phone conversations, Dr. Edgell -- who had been an Ayn Rand junkie at my age -- explained the reasons for his own political evolution and guided me through the myriad inconsistencies of my rabid philosophy. Just as I was beginning to understand how unbalanced I had become, Edgell died of a heart attack. He did not live to see me completely return to planet Earth but must have known he had planted the seeds of doubt. I never met the man, and I don't necessarily agree with everything he believed, but I owe him my sanity. (He was an atheist, but I hope he is looking down from the cosmic void with amused satisfaction.)
Just as morphing into an extremist took a couple years, un-becoming an extremist happened over time. One by one I saw the flaws in conservative orthodoxy: attempting to fight terrorism with torture, which only aided our enemies' propaganda efforts and thus created more terrorists; seeking to liberalize the Muslim world while curtailing rights for gay people at home; criticizing public schools for lackluster results and therefore cutting funds further; disdaining the weak while never analyzing why they are weak; always seeing the effect but never the cause, which on a mass scale perpetuates the effect.
The 2008 financial crash further proved to me the necessity of an economic safety net within the market system; tying health insurance to employment suddenly made no sense, for example, when millions of people lost their jobs due to conditions beyond their control. Capitalism with a few safety pads -- or a condom, I suppose, since the recession has fucked us all -- is a far cry from a Marxian worker's paradise.
I am not an extreme leftist by any means -- I still dream of swimming in a vault of gold coins like Scrooge McDuck, I would die to protect the First Amendment from censorial progressive overreach (the same goes for theocratic conservative overreach), and I would consider voting for moderate Republicans if any still existed -- but I've learned to see the big picture. It doesn't matter whether you are liberal or conservative, but it's dangerous to always think with exclamation points instead of question marks. Your stance on any particular issue is far less important than whether your worldview is a product of inquiry or incuriosity, whether you feel more comfortable questioning the crowd or blindly marching with it. No ideology has a monopoly on reality -- including my rediscovered left-wing politics.
No longer drunk on jingoism and bloodlust, I feel like a German in 1946, wondering what the hell happened to me, what the hell I supported when I harbored no doubt that we should "nuke 'em all" and measured people by standards other than their character. The years pass, but I cannot reconcile my former and present selves; in my early 20s I made the worst mistake of my life --injecting poison into a world that desperately needed the antidote -- and while it's impossible to undo that error, perhaps my penance is remembering and therefore not repeating it. Just as Dr. Edgell steered me back to the shores of lucidity, I can encourage mellowness in others -- no matter their cause -- and discourage the inevitable craziness that resentment and overgeneralization breed.
Paul of Tarsus, the most famous convert in history, commented long ago: "Even though I was once … a persecutor and a violent man, I was shown mercy because I acted in ignorance and unbelief." I don't know if anyone, deity or human, will show mercy on me, but I will try to have mercy on myself, and -- even if I continue to fail -- maybe that's enough.
Anybody who expects this column to lampoon beauty-pageant contestants has another think coming. Last time I made a satirical thrust in that direction, two women whose friendship I treasure coolly informed me they'd been Rodeo Queens of their respective county fairs. Did I have a problem with that?
Absolutely not. Indeed, during a sojourn at an excruciatingly correct liberal arts college, I once reacted to a campus newspaper crusade against the sin of "lookism" by urging students to contemplate "The Iliad." The oldest narrative in the Western literary tradition (circa 1500 B.C.), and what's it about? An overrated jock named Achilles, and Helen, a troublemaking beauty, aka "the face that launched a thousand ships."
So no, it didn't start at your high school, this business of hunks and cuties getting too much attention. It's human nature. Nor will it end with the ritual humiliation of Republican sex symbols Carrie Prejean and Sarah Palin.
Said humiliation, in the media-driven, Dionysian cult of celebrity that's rapidly overtaking American political culture has been not so much fated as voluntarily entered into and all but agreed upon by the well-compensated victims. The only question is how much cash their notoriety helps them to accumulate before everybody gets sick of them and the next Holy Hottie comes along.
Yeah, the former Miss California USA got sandbagged. Anyway, who cares what a 22-year-old in high heels and a swimsuit thinks about gay marriage? Do they ask quarterbacks about the Stupak Amendment? Anything Carrie Prejean said was sure to annoy half the TV audience busily engaged in calculating her sex appeal to three decimal places.
Her awkward rejoinder favoring "opposite marriage" infuriated the questioner, a Hollywood gossip maven who styles himself the "Queen of All Media." After the pageant, Perez Hilton called Prejean a "dumb b----." When she objected, he went deep into the gutter, describing her with the coarsest possible term for the female genitalia. His Web site features scores of attacks on Prejean earmarked "icky-poo."
Clowning like Hilton's, of course, hurts the gay rights cause as much as Prejean's subsequent behavior embarrassed straight Christians she purported to speak for. But because she'd given the wrong answer -- and never mind that, as Sarah Palin pointed out, Prejean's position is basically identical to President Obama's -- liberals who normally denounce "sexism" only snickered.
The embattled beauty queen who soon began making the conservative talk-show rounds promoting a hastily written book describing her deep piety and victimization also happens to be a real knockout, who, if you ran into her in the grocery store, would make you think, "Wow, that girl oughta be Miss California USA." Or something.
Poor Sean Hannity practically had steam coming out his ears listening to Prejean alibi about how the sex video she'd made strictly for her beloved boyfriend ended up going public. Then seven more sex videos and a few dozen nudie photos emerged, and Carrie Prejean's brief career as a martyr to liberal hypocrisy basically ended overnight.
Great beauty always threatens as many people as it enchants. So nice try, but it looks as if you're going to have to get a real job after all. Which brings us back to Sarah Palin, who quit the best job she's ever had to capitalize on her newfound celebrity. The former Alaska governor and beauty pageant runner-up got the book rollout of every author's dreams for her ghost-written memoir, "Going Rogue."
Far from persecution and mockery, Palin got the red-carpet treatment. On supposedly liberal CNN, Jessica Yellin asked, "Can't we just acknowledge it? Sarah Palin is sexy, and she doesn't seem to hide from it. She shows her gams. She openly embraces her femininity."
Her "gams"? Yellin, a Harvard graduate, must have majored in Frank Sinatra studies. She also complained that dames like Hillary Clinton and Dianne Feinstein "keep their femininity under wraps." It's definitely true that older broads avoid bicycle shorts.
Even at Mother Jones, Kevin Drum rhapsodized over Palin's "sex appeal that practically oozes out of every pore." Liberal and conservative commentators alike engaged in hair-splitting debates about Newsweek's "sexist" cover photo -- the one she posed for, just as she agreed to appear on "Saturday Night Live," sit for an interview with Katie Couric, etc. Anything to promote Sarah.
Personally, I'm immune to Palin's charms. Her voice alone would send me to a monastery. But no matter: Making a fetish of your sexiness and your holiness is a dangerous game. Fans can be fickle, demanding a thematic consistency rarely attainable in real life.
Palin appears far too clever for a comic pratfall like Prejean's. But how long before her enraptured public notices that she spent her triumphal comeback trashing other Republicans, sneering "Heathers"-style at Katie Couric and exchanging insults with a 19-year-old kid?
CEDAR CREEK, Texas -- Rick Perry strode across the stage last Wednesday night and leaned over into the microphone. This was his moment to shine; two dozen of his fellow Republican governors, and a couple of hundred big GOP corporate donors, were gathered at a barbecue to celebrate Republican victories and look ahead to more to come in 2010. And Perry, the governor of Texas, wants very much to make sure he's celebrating next year, despite what could be a nasty primary challenge from Sen. Kay Bailey Hutchison to secure the Republican nomination.
Which made his remarks a bit of a mystery. "Virginia is for lovers," he drawled, in an apparent tribute to Virginia Gov.-elect Bob McDonnell, who had just finished talking. "Texas is for jobs." He called up his wife, and some of the other governors' wives, to the stage. "Hey, back in the back," Perry called out. "Y'all hold it down just a minute -- we're fixing to introduce the ladies. Yeah, I want them all up here." Then he rambled through another five minutes about the weather, the trials and tribulations of being a rookie governor and an introduction of the night's musical entertainment, before kicking back to party with the rest of the crowd. At least he didn't talk about Texas seceding from the union, like he did back in April. Meanwhile, his opponent missed the whole thing; Hutchison was stuck back in Washington debating healthcare reform, where she insisted the new mammogram guidelines were merely the first step in a sinister government plot to ration medical treatments.
Welcome to the Lone Star State, where the politics next year are shaping up to be as bizarre as anything else in Texas. Perry, who's been governor since George W. Bush ambled off from Austin to the White House in 2000, is seeking his third full term in office next year, extending a tenure that's already broken all of the state's records. Hutchison, the first woman to represent the state in the U.S. Senate, has been in Washington since 1993. She says she's so committed to the race that she'll resign her Senate seat to run -- but not until after the March primary. (Democrats are likely to coalesce behind Houston Mayor Bill White as their candidate, though he hasn't yet officially declared he'll run.)
In the process, the campaign could wind up going a long way toward helping the Republican Party determine whether it wants to try to appeal to swing voters, or double down on the tea party-loving, Glenn Beck-watching, Sarah Palin book-buying crowd that helped the GOP lose New York's 23rd Congressional District for the first time in over a century earlier this month. Facing a starkly conservative primary electorate, Perry has, well, gone rogue. Besides threatening to dissolve the United States over the Obama administration's policies while addressing a roaring tea party crowd in April, Perry also refused to take $556 million in unemployment aid as part of the economic stimulus package. He talks about the 10th Amendment with the kind of fervor most Republicans reserve for the gun-toting Second; at the GOP governors conference, he urged his colleagues to "stand up and push back against Washington, D.C."
Hutchison, meanwhile, hasn't exactly racked up a liberal record in 16 years in the Senate. But she's more of a country club Republican, firmly conservative on economic issues but not a full-on culture warrior. She voted for the first federal bank bailout last fall and has supported keeping abortion legal, though she also frequently votes to restrict access. If she can wrest the nomination from Perry, that could be a sign the GOP will resist the urges of its conservative id. If she can't, though, it could mean other Republicans will take Perry's pandering to the tea party crowd to heart, and turn the party even harder to the right than it's already heading.
Judging by the early indicators, at least, the conservatives may prevail. Hutchison's poll numbers have dropped steadily since she got into the race over the summer. Mississippi Gov. Haley Barbour, the chairman of the Republican Governors Association, tells anyone who will listen that he wants Hutchison to quit the race so Perry can win the nomination. Perry's first TV ad made it clear he plans to run against Washington as much as against Hutchison -- which could be the right strategy in Texas. "She's claiming, 'I'm from Washington, and I'm here to help you,'" says Austin-based GOP pollster Mike Bonaslice, who's advising Perry. "Good luck with that spin right now. Republican primary voters aren't too keen on what's coming out of Washington the last year or so."
Hutchison's campaign isn't exactly sitting back and taking the abuse. Her own first TV ad promises, "I'm going to do everything I can to stop the government takeover of healthcare." Her campaign comes down to vociferously opposing the White House on issues that matter to Texas conservatives, and bashing Perry for talking tough but not delivering. "Perry is all talk, that's all he's ever been," says Terry Sullivan, Hutchison's campaign manager. "He says what he thinks folks want to hear at any time in his political career."
But that hasn't been enough to endear her to the true believers. "Texas is really -- as I like to say -- a beacon of sanity, fiscal sanity, particularly compared to Washington," says Peggy Venable, Texas state director of Americans for Prosperity, the group that put together the April tea parties. "Most Texans support pushing back on Washington; we certainly don't want to see Washington's policies carried out on Texas." She's backing Perry personally, though AFP is barred from endorsing any candidate. "It'll be tough for Kay Bailey Hutchison to run against Gov. Perry without talking about what's wrong in Texas," Venable says. "And many of us feel like what's wrong is primarily in Washington, not in Texas, and so I think a lot of people aren't going to appreciate a negative campaign in that respect."
Meanwhile, the most hardcore conservatives may not support either Perry or Hutchison. The chairwoman of the Wharton County Republican Party, Debra Medina, is running a grass-roots campaign for the nomination well to the right of both of the major candidates. Her platform includes eliminating property taxes, nullifying federal laws that interfere with Texas sovereignty, banning all abortions and encouraging Texans to buy even more guns than they already have. (Except for the property tax bit, though, that's not all that different from what Perry is running on.)
What Republicans are dealing with in Texas -- and in Florida, where conservative darling Marco Rubio is challenging Gov. Charlie Crist for the GOP nomination for Senate, and in a handful of other races around the country -- is just more fallout from the last few years in politics. When Democrats took control of Congress in 2006, some Republicans figured it was because the GOP had lost touch with voters; other Republicans, ideological kin to the ones who would wind up hurling tea bags at the White House last spring, figured it was because the GOP had lost touch with itself. The elections in Virginia and New Jersey this fall offered one way forward for the party -- present candidates who stick to economic issues, keep whatever radical social agendas they might have in mind tucked firmly away, and don't let Sarah Palin come to town and alienate the moderates. Between now and March, Texas may offer another path, the same one the party's activists are increasingly insisting on following. It could be a bumpy ride for them -- but it should be fun to watch for the rest of us.
Is a Jackson revival under way? I'm referring not to the late King of Pop but to the 19th century populist president whom his opponents called "King Andrew." According to Michael Barone, in the 2010 elections Republicans have a chance to knock Democrats out of as many as three dozen insecure congressional seats in "Jacksonian districts."
By itself, this would merely reinforce the identification of the Party Formerly Known as Lincoln's with the white South. But in a time of popular anger over banker bonuses and lobby-hobbled government, the themes of Jeffersonian and Jacksonian populism have appeal far beyond the Scots-Irish enclaves of the Appalachians and Ozarks. Witness the calls from Democrats as well as Republicans for President Obama to oust Treasury Secretary Tim Geithner and pay more attention to Main Street than to Wall Street.
In itself, American populism is neither left nor right. Translated into economics, Jacksonian populism spells producerism. For generations, Jacksonian populists have believed that the hardworking majority of small producers is threatened from above and below by two classes of drones: unproductive capitalists and unproductive paupers. While government promotion of public goods like defense, infrastructure and utilities that benefit all citizens is acceptable, Jacksonomics is suspicious of crony capitalists who owe their fortunes to political connections (can you spell B-A-I-L-O-U-T?). And Jacksonian producerism naturally is haunted by the nightmare of a class of the idle poor, who are capable of working but instead live off the labors of others and lack an ownership stake in the community.
Reform movements have succeeded in the United States only when their programs resonated with populist and producerist values. Lincoln's antislavery Republicans succeeded where the earlier Whigs had failed because the Republicans persuaded Jacksonian farmers that snobbish, parasitic Southern Democratic slave owners were a greater threat to white farmers and white workers in the Midwest than rich Republican bankers and industrialists in the Northeast. Lincoln's Hamiltonian program of aid to railroads and national banking had to be sweetened with the offer of Western homesteads for yeoman farmers before former Jacksonian Democrats would join his coalition.
In the 20th century, the most popular and enduring legacies of the New Deal have been the programs compatible with small-d Jacksonian democracy -- public spending on infrastructure like dams and electric grids and highways, the promotion of single-family home ownership, federal aid to education and Social Security and Medicare, two entitlements tied to individual work by means of the payroll tax. In contrast, welfare for the nonworking poor was always unpopular with most New Deal Democratic voters, who preferred public works programs like the WPA, CCC and CETA to relief payments for the poor and unemployed. Although he broke with the New Deal tradition in other ways, President Bill Clinton was true to its spirit when he collaborated with the Republicans in converting "welfare" from an unpopular federal entitlement to state-based workfare programs.
All too often in American politics the populist distinction between producers and parasites has been mapped onto the racial division between whites and nonwhites. But the Jacksonian republican concern about freeloaders is not, in itself, racist. And it has frequently manifested itself in anger at the freeloading rich as well as the freeloading poor. At the moment, populist anxieties about the nonworking poor or illegal immigrants receiving medical coverage are eclipsed by populist anger at federal bailouts for well-connected Wall Street bankers who pay themselves titanic bonuses for unproductive gambling with other people's money.
Here, one might think, would be an opening for the center-left. And yet the Obama Democrats, unlike the Roosevelt Democrats, cannot take advantage of the popular backlash against Wall Street. Why?
One reason is that the attempt of the "New Democrats" like Clinton, Al Gore and Obama to win Wall Street campaign donations has been all too successful. As Clinton's Treasury secretary, Robert Rubin helped complete the conversion of the Democrats from a party of unions and populists into a party of financial elites and college-educated professionals. Subsequently Obama raised more money from Wall Street than his Democratic primary rivals and John McCain. On becoming president, he turned over economic policymaking to Rubin's protégé Larry Summers and others like Timothy Geithner from the Wall Street Democratic network.
The financial industry is now to the Obama Democrats what the AFL-CIO was to the Roosevelt-to-Johnson Democrats. It is touching to watch progressives lament that "their" president has the wrong advisors. "We trust the czar, we simply dislike his ministers." Obama owed his meteoric rise from obscurity to the presidency not to any bold progressive ideas -- he didn't have any -- but rather to a combination of his appealing life story with the big money that allowed him to abandon campaign finance limits. According to one Obama supporter I know, the Obama campaign pressured its Wall Street donors to make their contributions in the form of many small checks, in order to create the illusion that the campaign was more dependent on small contributors than it was in fact. Even now President Obama continues to raise money on Wall Street, while his administration says no to every progressive proposal for significant structural reform of the financial industry.
There remains the progressive wing of the Democratic Party, represented more in Congress than in Obama's White House -- and more in the House than in the Senate, a dully complacent millionaires' club. Can congressional progressives compete with conservatives to channel popular outrage? Unfortunately, progressivism in the form in which it has evolved in the last generation does not resonate with populist producerism.
To begin with, most of the moral fervor of the contemporary center-left has been diverted from the issue of fair rewards for labor to the environmental movement. In theory, environmentalism ought to fit the populist narrative of defending shared goods against special interests. Indeed, clean air and water legislation and public parks and wilderness areas are broadly popular with working-class Americans, not least hunters and fishers. But many environmentalists insist that global warming must be combated not only by low-CO2 energy technology but also by radical lifestyle changes like switching from industrial farming to small-scale organic agriculture and moving from car-based suburbs and exurbs to deliberately "densified" cities with mass transit. Whether environmentalists propose to engineer this utopian social transformation by tax incentives or coercive laws, the campaign triggers the populist nightmare of arrogant social elites trying to dictate where and how ordinary people should live.
Even if it had not been eclipsed by moralistic lifestyle environmentalism, contemporary economic progressivism would be crippled by its own priorities. New Deal liberalism was primarily about jobs and wages, with benefits as an afterthought. Post-New Deal progressivism is primarily about benefits, with jobs and wages as an afterthought. This inversion of priorities is underlined by the agenda of the Democrats since the last election -- universal healthcare coverage first, jobs later.
It is only in the post-New Deal era that universal healthcare has become the Holy Grail of the American center-left, rather than, say, full employment or a living wage. Sure, Democrats from Truman to Johnson sought universal healthcare, and Medicare for the elderly was a down payment for that goal. But the main concern of the New Dealers was providing economic growth with full employment, on the theory that if the economy is growing and workers have the bargaining power to obtain their fair share of the new wealth in the form of wages, you don't need a vastly bigger welfare state. Having forgotten the New Deal's emphasis on high-wage work, all too many of today's progressives seem to have internalized the right's caricature of FDR-to-LBJ liberalism as being primarily about redistribution from the rich to the poor.
This shift in emphasis is connected with the shift in the social base of the Democratic Party from the working class to an alliance of the wealthy, parts of the professional class and the poor. And progressive redistributionism also reflects the plutocratic social structure of the big cities that are now the Democratic base. Unlike the egalitarian farmer-labor liberalism that drew on the populist values of the small town and the immigrant neighborhood, metropolitan liberalism tends to define center-left politics not as self-help on the part of citizens but rather as charity for the disadvantaged carried out by affluent altruists. Tonight the fundraiser for endangered species; tomorrow the gala charity auction for poor children.
At a recent event in Washington, I was surprised when a Democratic senator said, "The major threat facing America today is the class divide." The speaker was Jim Webb of Virginia, the self-conscious heir to Scots-Irish Jacksonian populism. He went on to attack the inhumane treatment of prisoners in American jails and the avoidance of military service by the American elite.
Populists like Webb are rare in today's Democratic Party, while the Republicans, for all their folksy rhetoric, offer nothing but the economic program of their Wall Street Journal/Club for Growth wing. If mass unemployment and slow growth persist for years, some sort of third-party, "Middle American" populist movement in 2012 seems possible. (Lou Dobbs: tanned, rested and ready?)
Could a new wave of populist independents be steered into the Democratic Party? Alas, that seems unlikely, if Democrats are viewed as the compromised, establishmentarian governing party. Moreover, the Republican Party benefited from the last two populist upheavals. Richard Nixon built the generation-long hegemony of the Republicans on the anger of George Wallace voters, and, following the campaign of Ross Perot in 1992, Newt Gingrich captured anti-system reformism to build a Republican congressional majority for most of the period between 1994 and 2006.
In each case, liberals and progressives indiscriminately rejected the populist voters. The Wallace voters, most of whom were New Deal Democrats, were dismissed by most liberals as though they were motivated by nothing but opposition to racial integration. In 1992 the New Republic published an idiotic cover with Perot dressed as Mussolini, implying that he and his supporters were crypto-fascists. Today ridicule of the bombastic Sarah Palin shades all too easily into loathing for the lower middle class.
It would be much easier for the Republicans to rebuild the conservative-populist coalition that dominated American politics from 1968 to 2006 than it would be for the Democrats to rebuild the kind of liberal-populist coalition of the New Deal era from 1932 to 1968. Will the Democrats be marginalized a third time rather than empowered by anti-system populism? In the next few election cycles we may find out.
Some conservatives want the Republican Party to strive for ideological purity in its platform and choice of candidates. Others want to make it official policy.
10 members of the Republican National Committee have put together a resolution that would keep the RNC from endorsing or supporting any candidates who don't agree with at least eight out of 10 principles described in it. (The math is based, natch, on a philosophy straight from former President Reagan, who said, as mentioned in the resolution, "that someone who agreed with him 8 out of 10 times was his friend, not his opponent.")
National Committeeman James Bopp is leading the charge on the measure; he gained fame earlier this year when he sponsored another resolution, one that would have officially declared President Obama's agenda socialist. That resolution was watered down before it was passed, but Bopp has inserted similar language in this one; it, too, is likely to be toned down somewhat.
Here, via the New York Times' Caucus blog, is the list of principles candidates would have to abide by in order to get the RNC's endorsement and/or money:
- We support smaller government, smaller national debt, lower deficits and lower taxes by opposing bills like Obama’s “stimulus” bill;
- We support market-based health care reform and oppose Obama-style government run healthcare;
- We support market-based energy reforms by opposing cap and trade legislation;
- We support workers’ right to secret ballot by opposing card check;
- We support legal immigration and assimilation into American society by opposing amnesty for illegal immigrants;
- We support victory in Iraq and Afghanistan by supporting military-recommended troop surges;
- We support containment of Iran and North Korea, particularly effective action to eliminate their nuclear weapons threat;
- We support retention of the Defense of Marriage Act;
- We support protecting the lives of vulnerable persons by opposing health care rationing and denial of health care and government funding of abortion; and
- We support the right to keep and bear arms by opposing government restrictions on gun ownership
CEDAR CREEK, Texas -- Finding the epicenter of the looming Republican comeback is pretty easy, at least this week. As it happens, you can drive there from Austin-Bergstrom International Airport in less than 30 minutes, and with only two turns. Once you get to the massive golf and spa complex with signs warning pedestrians and bicyclists to stay off the road, you're in the right place.
Here at a fancy resort on the outskirts of Austin, Republican governors and the corporate sponsors who love them gathered to celebrate their recent victories and look forward to what -- they're quite sure -- will be many more to come. "I was chairman of the party 16 years ago when we were last similarly situated," said Mississippi Gov. Haley Barbour, the chairman of the Republican Governors Association, who was chairman of the Republican National Committee when the GOP swept to control of Congress in the 1994 elections. "This feels better this early than it did then."
Win a couple of odd-year gubernatorial contests, it turns out, and the future suddenly looks a lot brighter. Bright enough, in fact, that the RGA had no problem Thursday morning showing attendees a "Saturday Night Live" clip spoofing Fox News Channel's coverage of the 2009 elections. The point of the skit was that the GOP and its friends at Fox were delusional, giddily declaring the 2008 elections overturned on the basis of two statewide elections with low turnout -- which the speakers at the RGA conference then proceeded to come close to doing themselves. It wasn't clear how intentional the irony was.
"For all the hype, [2008] was not a transitional campaign, it was not a transitional year," GOP pollster Ed Goeas said at a panel about the 2010 elections, after promising to pick apart some of the "many" myths about President Obama's victory a year ago. "After $700 million being spent by the Obama campaign, it was not a new electorate."
That was, in essence, the message of the RGA conference: So what if the only thing voters like less than the Democrats in Congress might be the Republicans in Congress? Who cares if the GOP has been reduced to a rump minority in the House and Senate, left on the sidelines with not much more to do than root for Democrats to fight among themselves? In politics, what matters is momentum, and right now, Republicans -- and quite a few Democrats, especially in private -- think they have it.
So Bob McDonnell and Chris Christie, the winners in Virginia and New Jersey a few weeks ago, were hailed as the heralds of a new GOP majority -- a majority of governors, granted, which doesn't really mean anything in terms of being able to pass legislation or implement policy on a national scale, but a majority nonetheless. (Both winning candidates demurred when asked whether Obama fatigue had helped them to the statehouse; it was local issues that won the day, they insisted.) No one mentioned that the party in the White House almost always loses the New Jersey and Virginia elections the year after a presidential race.
And Barbour came armed with a new poll by Zogby International that showed Obama's approval ratings and reelection numbers were perilously low in states with competitive gubernatorial races on tap for next year. Hawaii Gov. Linda Lingle said there was no reason the GOP shouldn't aim to win every single state. "There's no state that we can't win," she said. "Talking to a Republican from Hawaii -- the first Republican elected in 40 years -- I'm telling you, we could win in every state."
But the most telling numbers may have been the ones Barbour touted a little later, in a press conference, after he'd shared them with governors and Republican loyalists Thursday morning. Forget the polling; what really got the RGA excited was another kind of stat. "We spent $23 million in 2006," Barbour said. "We're going to start 2010 with $25 million in the bank."
Raising and spending money is, after all, the main thing a group like the RGA does. Which is why the big "Victory Barbecue" on Wednesday night was sponsored by the Corrections Corporation of America, whose Web site proclaims it's "the private corrections management provider of choice for federal, state and local agencies." And why Indiana Gov. Mitch Daniels apologized to "the vendors in the room" for boasting of his love of bidding state contracts out using reverse auctions. Everywhere you looked, corporate sponsors popped up. A mining company, an information technology company and a supply chain logistics company teamed up with CCA and the liquor lobby to sponsor a bash at Cindy's Gone Hog Wild, a bar down the road from the conference resort. A "trunk show and fashion boutique" was set up in one hallway Thursday afternoon, so attendees could take a break from hearing about the Obama administration's nefarious healthcare reform plans to get a little shopping in. (The governors, meanwhile, headed out for some skeet and trap shooting on the resort's grounds.)
That's not to say Democrats will have it easy next year, especially if the economy doesn't recover faster. Incumbents in either party are likely to struggle; fairly heavy losses in the House and Senate are probably on the horizon, though Democrats took so many seats in 2006 and 2008 that their majority in both houses is likely safe. Midterm elections almost never bring good news for new presidents, just like the New Jersey and Virginia results.
But the GOP crowing in Texas this week doesn't mean Republicans have it all figured out again, either. The candidates on the Republican line in major races next year may include Ohio's John Kasich, who was the House Budget Committee chairman after the 1994 elections; New York's Rick Lazio, who tried, and failed, to beat Hillary Clinton for the Senate in 2000; and Iowa's Terry Branstad, whom you may have heard of because he already served as governor of the state from 1983 to 1999. That lineup doesn't exactly scream out "new and improved," no matter how much Barbour talked up the GOP comeback.
"One of the things that really does separate this Republican Party from the Republican Party of 1993 is that this one is utterly devoid of ideas," said Nathan Daschle, the executive director of the Democratic Governors Association, the RGA's counterpart. "You can say a lot of things about Newt Gingrich, you can say a lot of things about the Republican Revolution; one thing you can't say is that it lacked some kind of ideological base or agenda."
By contrast, Barbour boasted Wednesday that Republicans in New Jersey voted for a moderate, Christie, and in Virginia, they voted for a conservative, McDonnell. The main thing they had in common was their party label. As GOP governors gathered to bash the healthcare reform bill Thursday morning, they ran through the same litany of Republican "solutions" to the problem that their comrades in Washington have offered for months -- tort reform, insurance portability, tax credits. Their most famous ex-governor, meanwhile, was running around on a book tour, talking mostly to tea party types who won't exactly help win swing voters over. Minnesota Gov. Tim Pawlenty, who's supposed to be a rising star in the party and is planning a run for president in 2012, stuck to bland pronouncements as he moderated a domestic policy panel on Wednesday. "Citizens are being asked to live on the same amount of money, or less, than they did last year," he said. "They think it's reasonable that government should tighten its belt as well." No one at the conference could open his or her mouth without declaring the states to be "the laboratories of democracy" -- Louisiana Gov. Bobby Jindal must have said at least a half-dozen times that unlike Washington, states can't print their own money. It was not, all in all, a rousing display.
What next year's elections may offer increasingly alienated voters, then, could be a choice between the Democrats, complete with their infighting and chaotic majorities -- who may not have done enough yet to fix the problems that they confronted upon walking into office -- and the Republicans -- who were the ones who helped mess things up in the first place. If the RGA gathering was any evidence, though, the GOP is aiming to win that choice by default. A win, after all, is still a win.
What I said in my last post, about Doug Hoffman representing the conservative id, especially now, when he makes completely nonsensical claims about ACORN stealing an upstate New York Congressional election from him? I'll admit it: I had no idea how right I was.
Public Policy Polling, a Democratic firm, got lucky with the timing of its latest survey. That's because PPP asked respondents, "Do you think that Barack Obama legitimately won the Presidential election last year, or do you think that ACORN stole it for him?"
Fully 26 percent of respondents said they believe ACORN stole the election for Obama, compared to 62 percent who said they think he won it fair and square. 12 percent weren't sure.
The numbers were even more revealing when broken down along partisan lines. A majority of Republicans -- 52 percent -- think ACORN stole the presidency, while just 27 percent said they believe Obama's office is legitimately his.