Category Archives: Democracy

2020 General Election, Democracy

Protesting is powerful, but voting is critical to achieving victory in a democracy

I love this Jonathan Bernstein column (“Voting Is Essential. It Is Also Overrated”), though I disagree with the suggestion, even at a time when street protests have swept the country and appear to have shifted public opinion nationally, that voting is overrated. Beyond the provocative headline:

Is voting the fundamental act of democracy? It’s a fundamental act — but hardly the only one. It’s no more basic than protest marches, campaign rallies, board meetings of organized interest groups, donations to candidates and groups, seminars at think tanks, press reports of city council meetings, lobbying, interactions within a party network, and so on.

Bernstein argues that

voting is only a limited part of how a self-governing republic works. It’s a reminder that anyone who really wants to be in the business of republican governing needs to find ways of getting involved beyond being just a voter, whether it’s through social movements, organized interest groups, political parties, or more than one of these.

It’s the interactions of those groups and elected officials that set the agenda for government action and fill in the details; it’s also those groups, along with the mass media, that create and change public opinion, which in turn changes what elected officials and others in government choose to do. That’s where much of the richness and texture of self-government are really found, not in voting booths.

I thought of this richly textured milieu when reading yesterday’s Los Angeles Times (“Rein in police unions, some labor allies say”):

It was a far cry from “defund the police,” but the response was severe anyway. In 2019, Steve Fletcher, a first-term member of the Minneapolis City Council, decided to oppose a budget proposal to add more officers to the Police Department.

Business owners soon started calling Fletcher, who represents part of downtown, complaining of slow police responses to 911 calls about shoplifting. Store owners told Fletcher the officers who eventually responded had a message: “We’d love to help you with this, but our hands are tied by the council; talk to your council member,” Fletcher said in an interview.

The Police Officers Federation of Minneapolis declined to comment for the LA Times story; the Minneapolis Police Department denied there had been a deliberate slowdown. But, in fact, slowdowns – ‘work-to-rule’ – are a familiar tactic among public and private-sector unions. And law enforcement unions are among the most powerful labor groups in the country. California’s pension gap – a gargantuan issue for cities and counties, as well as the state – began with an extravagantly generous pension deal for the California Highway Patrol in 1999, during the second term (before he was recalled from office) of Democratic Governor Gray Davis. And candidates in both parties, in nonpartisan races, and at every level (and not just in California) covet the contributions and endorsements of law enforcement, which are touted in campaign fliers, direct mail, and radio, TV, and online advertising.

Police officers, who carry guns and badges (as well as billy clubs, rubber bullets, tasers, and chemical sprays), are more powerful than most individuals. Collectively, they are even stronger. Like the thuggish leadership of the NRA, police unions often seem to overplay their hands. (An example from the Washington Post: ‘the leader of the Minneapolis Police Officers Federation, Bob Kroll, has called the protests convulsing the city a “terrorist movement”; told officers that “the politicians are to blame” for the rioting and the police “are the scapegoats”; and described Floyd as a “violent criminal.” He has also fostered political division in the largely Democratic city; at one point, the union sold “Cops for Trump” T-shirts to raise money for charity.’) Then again (like the NRA), law enforcement unions are so well entrenched that they are accustomed to getting what they want. Niceties such as work-to-rule are overshadowed by episodes of police violence directed against protesters and journalists (and by contrasting instances where “the protesters had to deescalate the police”).

Street protests

For 23 days and counting, following the murder of George Floyd, there have been demonstrations in streets across the country (and abroad) protesting police brutality and, especially, police killings of black men. Young people have led and participated in large numbers in these protests (“These Kids Are Done Waiting for Change”).

In real life, Nya Collins, Jade Fuller, Kennedy Green, Emma Rose Smith, Mikayla Smith and Zee Thomas had never met as a group when they came together on Twitter to organize a youth march against police violence. It was unseasonably hot, even for Middle Tennessee, with rain predicted, and earlier protests here had ended in violence, with the Metro Nashville Courthouse and City Hall in flames. Collectively, these are not the most promising conditions for gathering a big crowd, much less a calm one. But the teenagers were determined to press on, even if hardly anyone showed up.

On June 4, five days later, the founding members of Teens for Equality — as the young women, ages 14 to 16, call their organization — were leading a march of protesters some 10,000 strong, according to police estimates. “I was astonished,” Kennedy Green, 14, told me in a phone interview last week. “I did not know there were that many people in Nashville who actually see a problem with the system. I was like, ‘Oh, my gosh, there are so many people here who actually care.’”

The sustained demonstrations, day after day, have been regarded as extraordinary expressions of energy and commitment to end violence directed against black Americans by police officers sworn to protect our communities. It has been exhausting, even for young people (“Young Protesters Say Voting Isn’t Enough. Will They Do It Anyway?“).

“I’m tired. I’m literally tired. I’m tired of having to do this,” said Aalayah Eastmond, 19, who survived the 2018 massacre at her high school in Parkland, Fla., became a gun control advocate, saw many legislative efforts stall — and is now organizing protests in Washington over police violence against fellow black Americans.

And political activism can be frustrating:

The deaths of black people at the hands of law enforcement. The relentless creep of climate change. Recurring economic uncertainty — this time amid a pandemic exacerbated by missteps across the federal government.

“In an ideal world, all of these issues would be solved by going out and voting,” said Zoe Demkovitz, 27, who had supported Mr. Sanders’s presidential campaign, as she marched against police violence in Philadelphia. “I tried that. I voted for the right people.”

“And this,” she concluded, adding an expletive, “still happens.”

I thoroughly agree with Bernstein that political activism is “where much of the richness and texture of self-government are really found, not voting booths,” but I don’t accept at all that

voting by itself is … well, it’s not useless, but it’s a blunt instrument that can’t really do much. A vote can’t tell the government to reform the police force, let alone give specific instructions about how to do that or any other complex task. It can’t tell the winning candidate to lower taxes, or negotiate a trade treaty with China, or make abortion illegal or marijuana legal.

All it can really do is either throw the bums out or keep them in office. And that’s not a defect with the way that elections work in the U.S. It’s inherent in the nature of voting in mass electorates. 

It takes a blunt instrument to get the attention of people in power. Throwing the bums out (or not) is powerful. Even Mitch McConnell’s caucus is scurrying for cover. It may not be much, but they’re hoping their reform proposal puts them on the right side of this issue with voters. It’s because McConnell may lose his majority at the polls in November that he has bothered with even the pretext of doing anything about police violence.

Moreover, street protests are a blunt instrument. Staging a sit-in is a blunt instrument. Giving money to – or volunteering for – a candidate or a group pushing for change is a blunt instrument. Showing solidarity with a police union is a blunt instrument. For most political activists, all we have is blunt instruments. And we had better be prepared to exercise our right to vote (and encourage our community allies to do likewise) or wielding the other blunt instruments of self-government won’t amount to much.

I agree with Barack Obama, who has begun to speak out more often as the November elections grow nearer:

I’ve heard some suggest that the recurrent problem of racial bias in our criminal justice system proves that only protests and direct action can bring about change, and that voting and participation in electoral politics is a waste of time. I couldn’t disagree more. The point of protest is to raise public awareness, to put a spotlight on injustice, and to make the powers that be uncomfortable; in fact, throughout American history, it’s often only been in response to protests and civil disobedience that the political system has even paid attention to marginalized communities. But eventually, aspirations have to be translated into specific laws and institutional practices — and in a democracy, that only happens when we elect government officials who are responsive to our demands.

Young protesters and millions of Americans embrace ending police violence against black Americans as a compelling goal. But not everyone is on board. This is a struggle to increase accountability for a powerful group. Labor unions are not in the business of increasing accountability at the expense of job security. So of course police unions stand in opposition to this agenda, but they are hardly the most significant sources of opposition.

Add Donald Trump; Trump’s voting base; the political party that controls the White House, the Supreme Court, the U.S. Senate, and a majority of governorships and state legislatures. And as Democrats press the issue, police reform will inevitably become more partisan, with reflexive opposition from nearly half the country.

Jim Crow came into existence at the end of reconstruction in 1877 and stretched well into the mid-1960s. But, as we have seen with the aggressive voter suppression strategies of the Republican Party, the 1965 Voting Rights Bill was only an ephemeral victory. And as we have seen in recent years, in a flood of videos of the police shooting and strangling black men, racist violence — often with deadly consequences — is alive and well in America.

While recent polling suggests support for Black Lives Matter (such as a Pew survey that found: “67% of Americans say they strongly (38%) or somewhat (29%) support the Black Lives Matter movement, while smaller shares (31%) oppose the movement”), this can’t be regarded as a game changer. Folks had better be prepared to get out and vote if this agenda is going to continue to advance. We must “elect government officials who are responsive to our demands.”

(‘All Black Lives Matter’ painting of Hollywood Boulevard as seen on ABC7 Los Angeles.)

Democracy

Being black in America, street protests, voting or not bothering to vote, and the 2020 election

● The murder of George Floyd is disheartening, enraging, even disorienting. It is jarring to reflect on how near the racial regime in 21st century America is to the United States of the Jim Crow era. In 2020 being a black American carries extraordinary risks, especially in encounters with the police. Meg Guliford (“We are not okay. And you shouldn’t be either.”) reflects on the burden of these racial realities.

● In the course of an interview, a political scientist who has studied how protest affects politics, says this:

There has been a debate in social science for a long time about whether there was a backlash to the waves of violent protest in 1967 and 1968. Commonly, people will say “riot,” but I am using “violent protest” and “nonviolent protest” as the two categories.

Most of the destruction we’re witnessing doesn’t fit into either category. The opportunity for looting, not protest, drew many people into the streets. They look like protesters, but they’re not:

Two groups emerged more distinctly later in the day: one ransacking shops, the other rallying on message. In Santa Monica, they were often blocks apart. Looters in the shopping district on 4th Street appeared organized, smashing windows with crowbars and skateboards and loading the stolen goods into waiting cars. Some ran or drove off as sirens approached, but mostly continued as they passed. Dozens stole shoes and gear from a Vans shop, while bike after bike was pulled out a hole in the front door of an REI store. Fires were lit, with at least two squad cars burned.

● Research suggests that violence can diminish the prospects for successful protest, and many commentators have recalled Richard Nixon’s successful law and order campaign for president, after urban unrest struck scores of cities in 1967 and 1968. Michael Cohen casts doubt on the idea that the violence of the past week must benefit Trump, because “the advantage that Biden has – and Nixon had in 1968 – is that he seems like a calming force; someone who will bring normalcy in a time of division and chaos.” (Nixon also had a secret plan to win the war, which had spiraled tragically out of control under LBJ.)

● Regarding the 2020 election, what concerns me most is not the Americans who are tired of Trump, but may stick with him because they are anxious about disorder. It is the millions of voting age Americans who are tired of Trump, but see no reason to vote. They are disengaged and cynical.

Jon Favreau, who conducted focus groups with swing voters in four American cities, observes:

More than anything else, what stayed with me after the focus groups was the overwhelming cynicism these voters have towards almost every American institution. What unites most of them isn’t just disgust and disappointment with Trump, but with a political system that only seems to work for a shrinking number of people who aren’t them. 

The research of More in Common revealed the same phenomenon among a group of “passive liberals” (15% of voting age Americans) who are “would-be Democratic voters,” but generally don’t vote: “They’re younger, more urban, more female, more black and Hispanic on average and have a clear orientation toward the Democratic Party. . . . But they feel disaffected and cynical toward the system so they are less inclined to vote as a whole.”

Systemic racism isn’t going to budge much in the next few months. What happens as young protesters (and others watching the protests) see personnel changes at the local level, but no reform at the federal level? Do they double down on their commitment to change and cast votes against the candidate who sees very fine people among white supremacists and neo-Nazis, and the political party that sustains him? Or do they grow disaffected and walk away, cursing the whole corrupt system?

Republicans thrive when faith in government falters, which is assured as long as Trump is in the White House. Dysfunction, gridlock, polarization, even corruption and incompetence, all count as victories for the GOP. They make responsive, effective governance impossible. That works for the deep-pocketed individuals and corporations that benefit most when change can’t happen.

The steep challenge for Democrats, Favreau notes, is to present a vision of progressive politics that would make a tangible difference in the lives of people against whom the system is rigged — and to convince voters that they can deliver on their vision.

(Image from a local TV broadcast of folks with cellphone cameras chronicling the vandalism and looting going on as they pass by.)

Democracy, Donald Trump

Donald Trump and Presidential leadership in the era of the coronavirus pandemic

First, “Donald Trump: A Study in Leadership,” a brief video that contrasts Trump with other world leaders.

Ann Applebaum comments, “One knows, of course, that Donald Trump behaves differently from the leaders of other countries, especially the leaders of other Western democracies. One knows that he disdains facts; that he does not read briefing papers; that he has no organizational talents; that he does not know how to make use of militaries, bureaucracies, or diplomatic services; that he has no basic knowledge of history or science, let alone government.

But seeing him in this video, produced by my colleagues in Atlantic Studios, juxtaposed with other world leaders during this coronavirus pandemic comes, nevertheless, as a shock.”

Second, the views of a founding member of the Never Trump movement, Steve Schmidt:

“I think that what makes the country exceptional is that we’re made up of all the peoples of the world. We’re the only country in the history of the world that’s founded on the power of an idea. And that idea, though it was wrapped in injustice and hypocrisy, is that all men are created equal and endowed by their creator with inalienable rights. And over time that came to include African Americans, Hispanic Americans, women, gay men and women — and we still have work to do.

But that collection of people — Americans — we have fed more people, clothed more people, liberated more people, cured more people, and done more general good in the world than all the other countries of the world put together since the beginning of time.

And for the last 75 years, since the end of World War II, we’ve lived in an American era. It was a liberal, U.S.-led, liberal global world order that was architected in the mind of the twentieth century’s greatest president, FDR. It was built by Harry Truman. It was maintenanced from presidents between Eisenhower and Obama of both parties. And it has ended.

Donald Trump has been the worst president this country has ever had. And I don’t say that hyperbolically. He is.

But he is a consequential president. And he has brought this country in three short years to a place of weakness that is simply unimaginable if you were pondering where we are today from the day [when] Barack Obama left office. And there were a lot of us on that day who were deeply skeptical and very worried about what a Trump presidency would be.

But this is a moment of unparalleled national humiliation. Of weakness. When you listen to the President, these are the musings of an imbecile, an idiot. And I don’t use those words to name-call. I use them because they’re the precise words in the English language to describe his behavior, his comportment, his actions.

We’ve never seen a level of incompetence, a level of ineptitude so staggering on a daily basis by anybody in the history of the country who’s ever been charged with substantial responsibilities. It’s just astonishing that this man is the President of the United States.

The man, the con man from New York City — many bankruptcies, failed businesses, a reality show that branded him as something that he never was: a successful businessman.

Well, he’s the President of the United States now and the man who said that he would make the country great again. He’s brought death, suffering, and economic collapse on truly an epic scale.

And let’s be clear. This isn’t happening in every country around the world. This place, our place, our home, our country — the United States — we are the epicenter. We are the place where you’re most likely to die of this disease. We’re the ones with the most shattered economy.

And we are because of the fool that sits in the Oval Office behind the Resolute Desk.”

(Editor’s note: in a future post I intend to reference these remarks, which provide context and contrast for the discussion about whether or not Trump is a weak president.)

2020 General Election, Democracy, Republicans

GOP will gladly accept an extended contested election — if they think it may help them win it

“No one wants the uncertainty of an extended contested election with complaints like those we heard about the recent Wisconsin primary or the Iowa caucuses in February.”

No one? Suppose Mitch McConnell were offered a choice: a free and fair election (that Democrats likely win) or a contentious argument with weeks or months of turmoil about a result that is finally decided (perhaps by the United States Supreme Court) in Republicans’ favor. Does anyone doubt the choice he makes?

How about Kevin McCarthy? Or Bill Barr? Brian Kemp, Robin Vos, Kris Kobach? What would be the preference of John Roberts, whose career in restricting voting rights stretches back to 1982?

The consensus among Republicans in Washington, and in state houses across the country, would be to make the choice that Mitch McConnell would make. The GOP is committed to winning any way it can. Free and fair be damned.

That stark fact – that Republicans don’t hesitate to cheat to win elections – is why the report (“Fair Elections During a Crisis: Urgent Recommendations in Law, Media, Politics, and Tech to Advance the Legitimacy of, and the Public’s Confidence in, the November 2020 U.S. Elections”) by an ad hoc committee put together by Richard Hasen is going to win favor with good government groups and with Democratic leaders, but not with the leadership of the Republican Party.

Jonathan Bernstein’s commentary (“How to Hold a Fair Election in November”) – in which the quoted sentence appears – provides context, describes the report’s overall strategy (ensuring “a diversity of avenues for voting”), and recommends both the report and Hasen’s recent book (Election Meltdown: Dirty Tricks, Distrust, and the Threat to American Democracy).

I’m on board with the thrust of Bernstein’s post. Richard Hasen has been sounding the alarm regarding the threats to free and fair elections for many years. Voting is under attack and Hasen is well-qualified to offer viable reforms to ensure the integrity of the process and to boost Americans’ faith in elections. The coronavirus pandemic, exacerbated by Donald Trump’s abdication of responsibility, is yet another threat.

However, although the sentiment expressed in the quotation above is virtually de rigueur for an op-ed advocating democratic reform, we can’t count on it. Republicans are convinced – and have been for decades – that restricting voting turnout is good for them. In 1980 Paul Weyrich, during the fall campaign for Ronald Reagan, mocked “the goo-goo syndrome – good government,” arguing that “our leverage in the elections quite candidly goes up, as the voting populace goes down.” From the Brooks Brothers riot to Wisconsin’s recent election, we see that this is an enduring calculation.

And that’s not all: Republicans benefit when Americans are bitterly divided and when government is discredited. An extended contested election – win or lose – redounds to the advantage of Republicans.

[Photo of poster by Robbie Conal.]

Democracy, Off the Rails, Republicans

Poisonous snakes, coronavirus, and suppressing Americans’ right to vote

In 2014 a snake-handling Pentecostal preacher died of a rattlesnake bite. ABC News reported on the death and interviewed another pastor, who had been present during the fatal bite. He had this to say:

“I am in the United States of America. And I have a constitutional right as a, you know, as my-right-mind adult, that if I believe so firmly that the Spirit of God moves on me to take up serpents, that I should have my constitutional right to do it.”— ABC News (2:11-227).

Constitutional scholars may disagree, not to mention other people of faith.  Snake-handling Pentecostal congregations, chiefly in the Southern states, date back more than a century, drawing inspiration from Mark 1: 17-18:

And these signs will follow those who believe: In My name they will cast out demons; they will speak with new tongues; they will take up serpents; and if they drink anything deadly, it will by no means hurt them; they will lay hands on the sick, and they will recover.

Preachers, such as Tony Spell, in Louisiana, who continue to have Sunday services where many people sit in close proximity, are—with regard to public health—just as reckless as religious snake-handlers. They are putting themselves and others at risk. If they have a specific Biblical injunction for doing so in the face of the coronavirus, I am unaware of it.

If the church building were on fire, though the fire hadn’t yet reached the sanctuary or the nave, would these preachers expect their congregations to fill the pews? Would they expect their members to attend services, if a godless foreign power had penetrated the United States and had posted snipers in clear view of the church entrances? Would church leaders find a biblical passage revealing that God wanted their congregants to follow a highly risky path?

These decisions may reveal, at least in part, a stunning ignorance of infectious diseases. An “invisible enemy” (as Trump has put it), worldwide data collection, scientific modeling, and exponential functions add complications that we don’t find with poisonous snakes. Perhaps these leaders just don’t grasp the level of risk or the public health imperative of social distancing. But the opposition to public health measures to protect lives is confounding.

Why put people in harm’s way? What’s the point?

Republican leaders in Wisconsin have also chosen to place the public at risk, by refusing to budge on holding an in-person election on April 7 (and declining every avenue to make voting safer by expanding mail-in voting options). These Republicans, however, do have a point: this is a marker signaling their determination to achieve a central, overarching goal: suppressing the vote of their political opponents. This effort in April, while significant, may be regarded as a practice run for the November election. And as such, the state may serve as a role model for other Republican-controlled states. Wisconsin Republican operative Brandon Scholz oberserved, “If the political folks don’t use this as a lesson learned for the fall, they’re making a mistake.”

By blocking all efforts to change the date of the election (to a time when the pandemic may ebb), Republicans are counting on tens or hundreds of thousands of registered voters in Wisconsin making a rational decision to play it safe, and not go to the polls. Or, if they embrace the risk of acquiring COVID-19, they will have many obstacles to overcome (as described in the next paragraph) – and of course, they increase their chances of dying.

These legislators are counting on hundreds of polling places being closed on election day, because workers are afraid to staff them. (Milwaukee has the highest incidence of coronavirus in the state with nearly half the cases and deaths. As the week began, only five polling places were scheduled to open; at the other 175 polling locations, there would be no voting on Tuesday). The lines to vote, if people decide to vote, will be long. Maintaining social distance will not be feasible. And efforts to mitigate the risk, by limiting the number of people inside, will ensure that things will not go smoothly.

Each of these logistical issues could be expected to decrease the total number of votes cast—especially in urban areas where residential density magnifies the risks of contagion (and where Democratic voters predominate).  Lower turnout elections almost always advantage Republicans, whether a Republican member of the state supreme court is on the ballot (as in this primary), or a Republican president, whose popularity has never reached 50%, is on the ballot (as in November). Lower turnout increases the prospect of Republican victories. President’s Trump’s reelection may hinge on this highly contested battleground state.

Wisconsin Senate Majority Leader Scott Fitzgerald and Assembly Speaker Robin Vos issued this statement:

Hundreds of thousands of workers are going to their jobs every day, serving in essential roles in our society. There’s no question that an election is just as important as getting take-out food.

Neither man addressed questions about how to protect voters, with the closure of hundreds of sites, who would have to crowd into a smaller number of polling places during a deadly pandemic. Nor did they explore their take-out food analogy in a helpful way. Making a run for take-out food is not limited to a single day, or to a certain retail outlet (in contrast to a legally assigned polling place). And with a wide array of restaurant delivery options, one doesn’t even have to get in the car to get take-out food. With a spontaneous phone call, the food will arrive at ones front door.

In addition to proposals to move the election date, Democrats offered a number of ideas for making mail-in voting simpler and more user-friendly. Wisconsin Republicans refused to budge. User-friendly voting, which will increase turnout, is the last thing Republicans want.

Former GOP state party chair, Brian Reisinger, said this: “There’s serious concern on the conservative side that the liberals are changing the rules in the middle of the election and tilting them toward their favor,” though the reference to “the middle of” is a feint: timing is not the reason for Republican opposition to making voting easier. He adds: “There’s a major feeling that absentee and early voting are tools of the left to make up for the fact that they can’t win on election day.”

Voter suppression is hardly confined to Wisconsin. Georgia Governor Brian Kemp was narrowly elected in 2018, while serving as Secretary of State. In the latter office, he was credited with the most extensive arsenal of voter suppression techniques in the country: In addition to Georgia’s enactment of voter-ID laws, proof of citizenship requirements, and restricting early voting, Secretary of State Kemp purged hundreds of thousands of voters from the rolls, blocked new registrations, and pressed local officials behind the scenes to close, move, and consolidate polling sites. Every action, as designed, disproportionately serves to limit the number of Democratic voters.

Three days before the election, Kemp announced that his office was investigating the Democratic Party for hacking into the state voter database. After the election this accusation was found to be baseless. When the press reported that Georgia’s voter purges may have violated federal law, Kemp offered congratulations to his campaign: “Good work, this story is so complex folks will not make it all the way through it.”

In response to the coronavirus pandemic, Georgia Democrats have advocated expanding voting by-mail. Georgia Speaker of the House David Ralston has spoken candidly about his opposition: because it increases voter turnout.

“This will be extremely devastating to Republicans and conservatives in Georgia,” Ralston, a Republican from Blue Ridge, said during an interview with Fetch Your News, a North Georgia news site. “Every registered voter is going to get one of these. … This will certainly drive up turnout.”

These battles play out across the country, especially in states with Republican control of at least one branch of the legislature or the office of secretary of state. This past week, Donald Trump commented on “Fox and Friends” about the “crazy” things the Democrats proposed in the recently enacted economic recovery bill: “They had things – levels of voting – that if you ever agreed to it, you’d never have another Republican elected in this country again.”

Republicans are all-in with Trump, and all-in with voter suppression.

Voter-suppression is hardly new. It was championed by the late New Right activist, co-founder of both the Heritage Foundation and the Moral Majority, Paul Weyrich.

I don’t want everybody to vote. Elections are not won by a majority of the people. They never have been from the beginning of our country and they are not now. As a matter of fact, our leverage in the elections quite candidly goes up as the voting populace goes down.

As I write this, the five men who make up the Republican majority on the U.S. Supreme Court have weighed in, blocking Wisconsin’s extension of the deadline for mailed-in ballots. The deadline had been extended because many voters received their ballots late. The stage is set. Tomorrow Wisconsin voters will be given a choice: go to the polls to cast a ballot, or protect yourself and stay at home, forgoing your right to vote.

We can thank Republican legislative leaders in Wisconsin for clarifying their level of commitment to voter suppression. In the face of a deadly pandemic, political advantage trumps public health. We can thank the conservative majority on the U.S. Supreme Court for amplifying the message that voter suppression is a national endeavor.

2020 Democratic Primary, Democracy

Elizabeth Warren bows out, Joe Biden soars to the lead – How did we get here?

Regarding Warren:

There are many reasons why she failed to win the Democratic presidential nomination. But don’t kid yourself: Being a woman is one of them. – Francis Wilkinson

People always say …

Well, It’s not the right woman. Well, who’s going to be the right woman? Look at us, we’re as diverse as you can get, we’re all different shapes, sizes, colors. So which one of us is the right woman? – Pennsylvania Congresswoman Susan Wild

She was doing so well for a time.

For a while, it seemed like she had a good shot, but then as voting approached, she didn’t. Spooked voters blamed “the country,” as if they themselves didn’t populate the country. I’m ready for a female president, but the country isn’t. And then they voted for a man they could tolerate instead of the woman they loved.– Monica Hesse 

Although Hillary Clinton won the popular vote in 2016, her defeat diminished the prospects of a woman winning the Democratic nomination in 2020. The safer choice turned out to be an old white guy whose “policies, such as they are, are milquetoast appeals to moderation in the face of impending catastrophe — vows to compromise on legislation with Republicans, despite their demonstrated commitment to steamrolling democracy in the interest of partisan advantage; refusals to fight for free health care for all in the name of preserving private insurance, despite the rampant horror stories of insulin rationing and deferred emergency-room visits that prevail among the tens of millions of uninsured or underinsured Americans,” in the words of Zak Cheney-Rice, who continues:

But where his policies underwhelm — and, indeed, most voters would be hard-pressed to name a single one — his campaign has found incredible success drawing on voters’ emotional attachment to what they think he represents: a return to the sociopolitical norms that were so rudely disrupted by Trump’s election.

Black voters in South Carolina are credited with giving Joe Biden the boost he needed to overtake Bernie Sanders in the race for the nomination.

Mara Gay laments Elizabeth Warren’s withdrawal from the race: “Looking at this as an American woman, and thinking to yourself, Elizabeth Warren was the most qualified, in many ways, … most experienced candidate in the race. She had the best ideas … and she really did her homework. And I think there is a sense among a lot of women that you have to be twice as good – and even then it’s not enough. And I think that’s what happened tonight.”

“But,” Gay adds, “there is a larger context here.”

I just got back from a trip across the South … And the reality is that Senator Warren was running in the shadow of Hillary Clinton’s loss. And voters – Democratic voters, especially black Democrats in the South who really spoke up forcefully in favor of Joe Biden – they are so desperate and so intent on beating Donald Trump that they are looking for the least risk imaginable.

I had voter after voter tell me, ‘You know, we really like Elizabeth Warren, but we don’t know if our neighbors were going to vote for a woman.’ . . .

‘We look at what happened to Hillary and we think maybe it’s too risky.’ . . .

They know Joe Biden. So he may not be Barack Obama and as inspiring, but he’s somebody who they believe is the best bet to get Donald Trump out of the White House.

In a column earlier this week, Gay offered additional context, illustrating the depth of southern black voters’ concerns:

Not long ago, these Americans lived under violent, anti-democratic governments. Now, many there say they see in President Trump and his supporters the same hostility and zeal for authoritarianism that marked life under Jim Crow.

For those who lived through the trauma of racial terrorism and segregation, or grew up in its long shadow, this history haunts the campaign trail. And Mr. Trump has summoned old ghosts.

“People are prideful of being racist again,” said Bobby Caradine, 47, who is black and has lived in Memphis all his life. “It’s right back out in the open.”

Cheney-Rice represents a younger generation, which has no memories of Jim Crow, and a different worldview than Congressman Jim Clyburn, born in Sumter, South Carolina before the U.S. entry into World War II. Moreover, many of us view the governing norms that, in Cheney-Rice’s dismissive words, Trump “so rudely disrupted,” as fundamental to a healthy democracy.

If searing memories of a brutal, vicious past moved South Carolina voters, many Democrats — white, black, Northern, Southern, from East to West — have embraced the principle that this isn’t the year to take big risks.

Why Biden? Why late February 2020? Kevin Drum has a chart (actually two): Biden started to surge on February 22 (two days after the Las Vegas debate and four days before the Clyburn endorsement).

So what happened on or around February 21? The only thing that stands out is the Las Vegas debate, which took place on the evening of February 19. The consensus for this debate was that Elizabeth Warren left Mike Bloomberg bleeding on the floor, but that no one else especially distinguished themselves. I just reread the New York Times summary of the debate, and it barely even mentions Biden except to note that he joined Warren in attacking Bloomberg.

So there’s something peculiar here. The conventional wisdom says that Clyburn’s endorsement powered Biden to a big win in South Carolina, and the big win in South Carolina powered Biden to victory on Super Tuesday. But Clyburn endorsed after Biden had started surging. Something else must have started the Biden surge, but the Las Vegas debate sure doesn’t seem like it was a turning point either.

Though Drum expresses puzzlement, I think he has pinpointed the key event: the debate – and the news coverage that followed over the next few days. The big story, as he notes, was Warren’s takedown of Bloomberg. And that’s – as I suggested in the last sentence of a previous post – a key to Biden’s rise. This isn’t at all peculiar.

Bernie Sanders was ascendant. Many Democrats (even on the left) were convinced that a Sanders nomination posed significant risks for the party in November. The former VP — hogging the moderate lane — appeared shaky throughout the nomination process. Other less risky choices had fallen by the wayside.

The results of the Nevada caucuses on February 22 — the beginning of Biden’s rise in Drum’s chart — would prove that neither Buttigieg, nor Klobuchar could go the distance (a result that the press had anticipated). And Warren (et al.) had already faltered.

But Bloomberg — following a half billion dollar+ campaign, including scads of slickly produced TV ads — had secured many Democratic endorsements and had steadily risen in the polls. He was waiting in the wings, ready to step up on Super Tuesday to rescue the party and the country. His fortunes changed, however, when Warren eviscerated him on stage.

No one else was left standing at that point — except Joe Biden. What exquisite timing.

(Image: WaPo on YouTube.)

Democracy, Tribalism

Senator Mitt Romney cast a politically courageous vote and stood forthrightly behind it

In an era of maximal partisanship, Mitt Romney was a lone vote against his party and against a vindictive president. The GOP base – activists and faithful primary voters – stands steadfastly behind that president, ready to mete out punishment to wayward elected officials. And the conservative media universe, over which Fox News Channel reigns, stands ready to rally that base – with invective and lies – to back up the president.

There is no discernable political advantage to prompt Romney’s decision. He can expect ridicule, condemnation, and vilification from Republicans, payback from the President, even threats to him and his family. And while Democrats may praise him, they won’t accept him as one of their own. As Romney has noted more than once, he has no followers in the GOP. He is standing alone and, apart from personal conviction that he is doing the right thing, there is little upside of any kind (other than serving as an example to his children and possibly gaining the distant recognition of history: neither significant motivators for U.S. senators).

Unlike most Republican senators, he may be able to weather opposition in Utah, which has had considerable affection for Romney and where Trump is less popular than in other deep red states. And he has the wisdom and perspective to understand that failing to win reelection, if he chooses to run again and loses, is hardly the end of the world. But it is undeniable that Senator Romney did not decide to condemn Trump’s shakedown of Ukraine because of any personal or political benefit that stance would offer.

At a time when the Christian right holds sway over a political party, while embracing a man whose life, character, speech, and actions are antithetical to the message of the Gospels, few Senators (in deciding to fall in line behind the President) invoked principles that in any respect conflicted with the political expediency of the moment.

Mitt Romney did so. And we have every reason – based on his life, character, speech, and actions – to take him at his word that he acted out of faith and conviction, that he made his decision because of a fundamental belief that it was the right thing to do for the constitution and the country.

The reason his statement reads in places like a condemnation of other prominent Republican senators is because he has articulated in a straightforward way the facts of the case and the principles behind his decision. This is another reason to praise him: he could have shrugged off making a candid statement and, like so many other Republicans, essentially invented a more convenient, palatable cover story – pulling his punches to de-emphasize Trump’s egregious misconduct. He didn’t. He spoke clearly and forthrightly.

In casting the biggest vote of his life, Mitt Romney’s decision was politically courageous. That’s as commendable as it is surprising and rare.  

Democracy, Donald Trump

“If right doesn’t matter, we’re lost. If the truth doesn’t matter, we’re lost.”

If right doesn’t matter, if right doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter how good the Constitution is. It doesn’t matter how brilliant the framers were. It doesn’t matter how good or bad our advocacy in this trial is. It doesn’t matter how well written the oath of impartiality is.

If right doesn’t matter, we’re lost. If the truth doesn’t matter, we’re lost.

The framers couldn’t protect us from ourselves, if right and truth don’t matter. And you know that what he did was not right. You know, that’s what they do in the old country — that Colonel Vindman’s father came from. Or the old country that my great-grandfather came from. Or the old countries that your ancestors came from, or maybe you came from.

But here right is supposed to matter. It’s what’s made us the greatest nation on earth. No constitution can protect us [if] right doesn’t matter anymore.

And you know you can’t trust this president to do what’s right for this country. You can trust he will do what’s right for Donald Trump. He’ll do it now. He’s done it before. He’ll do it for the next several months. He’ll do it in the election if he’s allowed to.

This is why, if you find him guilty, you must find that he should be removed. Because right matters. Because right matters. And the truth matters. Otherwise we are lost. – Adam Schiff, Thursday, January 23, 2020 

Democracy, Republicans, Tribalism

When asked, Are you ready to get off the Trump train? “No one ever says yes.”

Sunday morning’s Los Angeles Times featured a column by Scott Jennings (“Why Republicans will stick with Trump in 2020 — even if they don’t love his behavior“), which offers an analogy to explain why Trump supporters aren’t budging. The piece begins with these words:

Recently, a close friend and fellow Republican told me he was “personally shocked at what the evangelicals have been willing to stomach” from Donald Trump. I’m not shocked at all.

My friend’s sentiment — a variation on the empty “if Obama had done this, Republicans would’ve impeached him” — has become a staple of Democrats and Never Trumpers. “Are you ready to turn on him yet?” Republicans are asked over and over.

No one ever says yes.

Jennings sets up the analogy like so:

Imagine standing at a train station in Louisville, Ky., staring at the schedule board. You want to get to Los Angeles, and you have a choice of two trains — one headed to San Diego and one headed to Washington, D.C. Neither gets you exactly where you’re heading, but there’s really only one choice as the alternative to San Diego is to go precisely the wrong way.

Even if the San Diego train sometimes hits bumpy tracks, and the conductor comes on the PA and says crude and dumb stuff, and there are people on the train you really wish would get off: It is still taking you basically where you want to go.

To the average Republican voter, like the passenger on that train, the destination is what matters.

Let’s acknowledge up front: the analogy has the virtue of accurately characterizing the intractable nature of Trump’s support. Trump’s evangelical base is no more likely to get off the Trump train, than I would be to board a train (or plane or any other conveyance) heading in the opposite direction of my intended destination.

But as usual with Republican talking points in defense of Donald Trump, the analogy – indeed the whole column – serves to divert attention from inconvenient facts, rather than to illuminate the consternation of Jennings’ close friend at what “the evangelicals have been willing to stomach” from Trump.

The first sentence references evangelicals. Of course, if we wish to be accurate, we’ll note that it is white evangelicals who are stuck on Trump (though the 2020 Trump campaign is making a concerted effort to generate the support of Latino evangelicals as well, especially families who have immigrated from south of the border – such as Cuba, Venezuela, and Nicaragua – who are “leery of what they see as left-wing ideology.”). Jennings – who at one point offers fleeting acknowledgement that it is mostly men who comprise Trump’s base, not women – doesn’t clarify that it is white men who predominate.

That detail does not serve Jennings’ analogy, but it is surely of some relevance for understanding the unshakable support of a man who revels in insulting women, ethnic minorities, immigrants, and – yes – even faith communities that happen to lie outside the GOP base.

Other details in the fable also serve to obscure critical issues in the real world. Jennings describes a bumpy ride and crude, dumb comments by the conductor on the train. But the President of the United States is the leader of the country – of the whole country, of Americans of all hues and backgrounds and convictions – not just of his partisan base.

Trump has been insulting half the country since his campaign began and – after a tiresome year in office when pundits kept professing to see a pivot – it is now incontrovertible that Donald Trump rejects a unifying role as president. (Fun contrast: even in 2020, as impeachment looms and an impulsive Trump gambles with our security in the Middle East, the leading candidate for the Democratic nomination for president has repeatedly struck a chord for bipartisanship.)

Trump is a divider. By choice. That’s far and away more consequential than an obnoxious functionary hurling insults while collecting tickets.

Trump’s critics aren’t pining away for a “nicer conductor.” One might have expected believers of the Gospel (“Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself”) to have concerns for the Americans Trump has derided and threatened. But, among Trump’s base, no one ever says enough already.

Moreover, Trump’s talk – in the Oval Office, on the White House lawn near a waiting helicopter, in phone calls to Fox News Channel, at rallies before his fans, and in his Twitter account – is hardly the most significant reason to oppose him.

He is President of the United States. His words command generals, cabinet secretaries, intelligence and law enforcement agencies, and much more. He has separated children from their parents, cast aside allies who have stood with us for three quarters of a century, and embraced enemies who have contempt for democratic government and seek to do us harm. In every instance (and we could easily cite additional actions) his behavior is diametrically opposed to values and practices that Republicans and evangelicals formerly embraced – and not so long ago.

This gets us back to ‘the empty “if Obama had done this, Republicans would’ve impeached him”’ idea, and closer to the astonishment of Jennings’ Republican friend. That friend might well have taken evangelicals, his fellow Republicans, at their word when they professed the importance of personal morality in our nation’s leaders. Jennings’ reply: “To a Christian conservative voter, the individual behavior of an imperfect human pales against the importance of protecting human life.”

That anti-abortion stance and the fear of folks at our southern border seeking refuge are the twin issues that Jennings cites – and I agree that both are central, especially the latter, to evangelicals’ embrace of Trump. But Jennings’ rhetoric suggests a third motivator. A more toxic and pernicious factor, which explains, more than a couple of specific issues, why Republican evangelicals will overlook so much of what Trump does, no matter how antithetical it is to traditional morality and old-fashioned patriotism.

Jennings references Democrats in a handful of passages, disparaging the opposition party, not as citizens who oppose Trump’s policies out of conviction, but as cranks who harbor unreasonable views. A sampling of the language employed: “extreme tilt to the left,” “the wild extremism of his would-be opponents,” and “how the Democrats became so radicalized.” (He also demeans GOP opponents of Trump as “Republicans who make a living hating Trump” as though money, not principle, explains their opposition. I’m confident, though, that Jennings and other pro-Trump Republicans are amply rewarded.)

Virtually all Trump fans in Congress, on TV, and in op-eds featured in print and on the internet delight in demonizing the opposition party. Jennings – who employs mild insults in a casually off-hand way, suitable for the mainstream media (as opposed to the conservative media universe), is a master of the genre. While more subtle than Fox News, he gets the point across.

If Trump’s critics aren’t nutty, what are they getting at? The fierce opposition to Trump goes beyond rude, belligerent language. Alarm from small-d and big-D democrats goes beyond disagreement regarding conventional political issues. Jennings asserts:

Most of Trump’s governance has been what you’d expect from any Republican president (conservative judges, lower taxes, deregulation, an embrace of pro-life policies), and the wild extremism of his would-be opponents is causing some center-right voters who were lukewarm on Trump three years ago to feel closer to him than ever before.

“Most of” leaves out what’s most important to constitutional governance and the rule of law. It leaves out mutual toleration and forbearance as critical virtues for democratic societies (How Democracies Die). It leaves out the fundamental reasons for the intensity of the determined opposition to Trump: the obvious, undeniable ways that Donald Trump stands apart from every previous Republican president in the history of our republic. Jennings could count the ways as well as I could, but he doesn’t.

Instead, Jennings at once overlooks the reasons Democrats (and Republican Never Trumpers) oppose the President and places the opposition as beyond the pale – a well-worn Republican strategy.

That strategy has worked remarkably well. So well that folks who rely on traditional sources of information have found it hard to fathom how and why Republicans have gone all-in with Trump. Jennings’ Republican friend is “personally shocked” because – outside the conservative media bubble – Trump’s behavior (and the celebration of his behavior by the GOP base) clashes with notions of civility, respect, and good will toward other Americans. The two trains metaphor invokes an “intended destination,” but obscures the backdrop. Upon arriving, we get anti-abortion judges and strict border control, but also assaults on democratic institutions, and foreign policies that undermine U.S. security and American exceptionalism.

Why does the evangelical right wish to go there? Because they’ve been taught that Democrats are contemptible liberals/radicals/socialists. Because they’ve learned that the views of the opposition are outrageous and unworthy of a moment’s reflection. Because they have acquired the conviction that their political opponents lack legitimacy.

Democrats (and liberals et al.) aren’t the loyal opposition. They are the enemy.

And Trump stands against their enemies in the other party. Not so long ago Republicans regarded Democrats as fellow citizens who held opinions that were fit subjects for debate. Trump’s evangelical base dismisses this point of view.

Jennings’ parable of the two trains obscures what’s shocking about evangelical support for Trump, instead of bringing it into focus.

(Image: Trump Train on YouTube.)

Democracy, Republicans, Tribalism

Never forget why Mitch McConnell decries partisanship, polarization and factionalism

The Senate Majority Leader, responding to impeachment this morning, decried partisanship, polarization, and (appropriating language from the Federalist Papers) factionalism:

If the Senate blesses this, if the nation accepts this, presidential impeachments may cease being a once in a generation event and become a constant part, a constant  part of the political background noise. This extraordinary tool of last resort may become just another part of the arms race of polarization.

Real statesmen would have recognized, no matter what their view of this president, that trying to remove him on this thin and partisan basis could unsettle the foundations of our republic. Real statesmen would have recognized, no matter how much partisan animosity might be coursing through their veins, that cheapening the impeachment process was not the answer.

Historians will regard this as a great irony of our era: that so many who profess such concern for our norms and traditions themselves proved willing to trample our constitutional order to get their way.

. . .

It is clear what this moment requires. It requires the Senate to fulfill our founding purpose. The framers built the Senate to provide stability. To take the long view of our republic. To safeguard institutions from the momentary hysteria that sometimes consumes our politics. To keep partisan passions from literally boiling over. The Senate exists for moments like this.

That’s why this body has the ultimate say in impeachment. The framers knew the House would be too vulnerable to transient passions and violent factionalism. They needed a body that would consider legal questions about what has been proven and political questions about what the common good of our nation require.

Hamilton said explicitly in Federalist 55 that impeachment involves not just legal questions but inherently political judgments about what outcome best serves the nation. The House can’t do both. The courts can’t do both. This is as grave an assignment as the Constitution gives to any branch of government. And the framers knew only the Senate could handle it.

Well, the moment the framers feared, has arrived. A political faction in the lower chamber have succumbed to partisan rage. A political faction in the House of Representatives has succumbed to a partisan rage. They have fulfilled Hamilton’s philosophy that impeachment will, quote “connect itself with the pre-existing factions … enlist all their animosities … and … there will always be the greatest danger that the decision will be regulated more by a comparative strength of parties than by the real demonstration of innocence or guilt.” Alexander Hamilton.

The key element in McConnell’s communication strategy is to increase and intensify partisanship, polarization, and factionalism.

This is a principle, masterfully executed, from McConnell’s well-worn playbook. He understands that bipartisanship benefits Democrats and disadvantages Republicans. He knows that dysfunction and lack of trust in government benefits Republicans. He is well-versed at creating at once narratives for both Fox News (and company) and the mainstream press. FNC will trumpet his words as self-evident truths, while the mainstream story will be more squabbling between the parties.

This principle – which seeks to divide the country ever more firmly into warring camps – underscores everything McConnell does and says when he laments the state of our politics.