Tag Archives: Barack Obama

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.)

The Way the World Goes 'Round

That’s the way the world goes ’round: news, context, and comments on the past week

1.

2. Wisconsin Republicans refused to let a deadly pandemic (with the greatest impact in Democratic strongholds in Milwaukee) get in the way of guaranteeing a low-turnout election for a state supreme court seat. Speaker of the Assembly Robin Vos, outfitted in head to toe PPE, assures the public that everything is fine.

3. Charles Sykes – who for twenty five years was immersed in the “conservative movement, both as an observer and as a full participant” and knows all the Republican players, including Robin Vos – explains the election’s significance and the context in Wisconsin politics. (I recommend Sykes’ book, How the Right Lost Its Mind, which presents an insiders’ account of how conservative media “succeeded in convincing our audiences to ignore and discount any information whatsoever from the mainstream media. The cumulative effect of the attacks was to delegitimize those outlets and essentially destroy much of the Right’s immunity to false information.”)

4. Richard Hasen (“How Republicans are using the pandemic to suppress the vote“) suggests that Republicans may be willing to go to far greater lengths than they did in Wisconsin to rig the November election. He foresees two possibilities. The first (a 180-degree pivot from Wisconsin Republicans), is to emphasize the grave risks to public health and simply close polling places in Democratic cities and swing states. (Shutting down polling places – creating voting deserts, in effect – in Democratic areas of a state is a tried and true method of voter suppression.) The second method is more novel: a direct assault on the right of citizens to cast votes.

More ominously, as Mark Joseph Stern has pointed out, state legislatures have the power under the Constitution to choose presidential electors. In its infamous 2000 decision in Bush vs. Gore, the U.S. Supreme Court remarked that although every state legislature had given voters the power to vote directly for the president and to allocate the state’s electoral college votes, state legislators could take back that power at any time.

What’s to stop Trump from appealing to Republican-controlled legislatures in the swing states of Arizona, Michigan, North Carolina, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin to take back this power from voters under the pretext that the risk of COVID-19 makes voting too difficult? Although all these states, except Arizona, have Democratic governors, some believe that the legislatures could take back this power even without the agreement of the governor. [My emphasis.]

5. The United States now leads the world in coronavirus deaths. The lack of national leadership that brought this about is disgraceful.

6. Today’s New York Times offers the most recent review of Donald Trump’s ongoing failures to protect the American public (“He Could Have Seen What Was Coming: Behind Trump’s Failure on the Virus”).

By the last week of February, it was clear to the administration’s public health team that schools and businesses in hot spots would have to close. But in the turbulence of the Trump White House, it took three more weeks to persuade the president that failure to act quickly to control the spread of the virus would have dire consequences.

7. Last month Trump declared, “We’re not a shipping clerk,” but the continuing refusal of the federal government to take command is costing lives. Instead, his administration has relied on five large medical supply companies to step into the breach. These companies are distributing personal protective equipment — but their regular customers are getting first dibs on all PPE, regardless of need. Governors with coronavirus hotspots have to stand in line while scrambling to find their own sources for gear.

Admiral John Polowczyk, who leads FEMA’s Procurement Task Force, explains: “I’m not here to disrupt a supply chain, say, look, they have trucks to go to the hospital door every day. We’re bringing product in. They’re filling orders for hospitals, nursing homes like normal.”

But things are hardly normal. As a result, according to governors with hospitals that lack PPE, “this has led to confusion and chaotic bidding wars. Until the bottleneck is sorted out, it will be market forces and corporations that often decide who gets scarce supplies and who doesn’t.”

(Image: courtesy of NASA.)

2020 Democratic Primary

Is Kamala Harris “the most natural” political talent among the Democratic candidates? Not so fast!

“…I come to praise Harris today, not dismiss her. As the savvy political analyst Sean Trende wrote last week, she is the most natural politician in the field, and people are now underrating her chances.” – David Leonhardt, New York Times

I agree with Leonhardt (and Jonathan Bernstein, who linked to this op-ed): there’s no reason to count out Kamala Harris in her quest for the Democratic presidential nomination. It’s hardly out of the question that she could pull off a victory (though she’s experiencing a “summer slump,” in Leonhardt’s words).

It’s Leonhardt’s point – and Sean Trende’s – about Harris as the most naturally talented candidate in the field that I question. Trende phrased it this way: “She’s the most natural political athlete of the bunch …”

In the last presidential campaign the Democratic nominee conceded that she wasn’t a natural at seeking office, which serves to put the compliment of Harris in perspective.

Hillary Clinton is not a natural politician, nor is she a natural public speaker. This is not my opinion; this is Clinton’s own. “Look, I have said before and it won’t surprise anybody to hear me say it, this is not easy for me,” Clinton said at a debate in March. “I am not a natural politician, in case you haven’t noticed, like my husband or President Obama.” She has to work hard, in other words, to achieve something that appears to be an innate gift for many of her peers.

If this was meant to endear the voting public toward her, it’s not clear that it worked. Last week, Jamelle Bouie used Clinton’s own “natural politician” line in perhaps exactly the opposite way that Clinton’s camp hoped it would be used, as an example of the reasons why liberals are worried that “she doesn’t inspire in ways we expect our presidential hopefuls to inspire”; a Salon piece echoed that sentiment, repeating the line that she lacks “the charm of her husband or the charisma of Barack Obama.”

So is charm or charisma the mark of natural political talent? Or a savvy gift for relating to people, perhaps?

In an earlier political era, Lyndon Johnson was often referred to as a natural-born politician:

Johnson was … just a natural politician.…

When he was a senator, he was about to embark on a re-election campaign tour back in Texas and convened his speechwriters to review a draft speech that they had done for him. Johnson reviews this speech and he comes upon a passage from Socrates.

And he looks at this passage, and he says, “Socrates? Socrates? Now, let me get this straight. I’m going back home to Texas to talk to just plain folks, and you have me quoting Socrates?” He said, “Keep the quote in, but start it with, ‘My daddy always used to say…”

Johnson had an instinctive understanding of how to connect to people and, often, this was attributed to LBJ’s yearning for connection, to his passion for hand-shaking and back-slapping. (Quite unlike Hillary Clinton, certainly.)

Johnson is a back-slapper, a shoulder hugger, a knee squeezer. “I like to press the flesh,” he says, “and look a man in the eye.”

As Hillary Clinton suggested, the former Secretary of State’s spouse, the exceedingly empathetic Bill Clinton, has long been regarded as a natural pol.

“Bill Clinton is an incredibly gifted politician. Bill Clinton is a room and it doesn’t matter how many people are in the room, you think he’s talking to you.”

Paul Krugman, who made this observation about Clinton, contrasted him to Barack Obama. “But, in fact, Bill Clinton was not a consequential president. And Obama, although clearly not the natural politician, is a consequential president.”

Perhaps Krugman is suggesting that Obama was too cerebral, too reserved, to be considered a natural à la LBJ or Bill Clinton. Another contrast (of two legendary California pols) draws on that distinction: Jerry Brown, elected and reelected to the governorship of California twice (serving two terms beginning in 1975 and then again in 2011), was often compared with his father, Pat Brown (governor in an earlier era), who was thought of as the natural.

This small world, held together by a dense web of friendships and favors, was made-to-order for a man like Pat Brown. Smart, affable, and energetic, Pat had a natural politician’s ready laugh and long memory.

…

Jerry was unlike his father in many ways: less amiable, more introspective, and less disciplined, he was not a natural politician.

Does being a natural politician hinge on amiability, camaraderie, a longing for contact with people – or on a different skill set? Some observers might insist that (contrary to Krugman’s assessment) the intelligent, savvy Obama – a more restrained, more cool (in Marshall McLuhan’s sense) persona than LBJ, Bill Clinton, or Pat Brown – was nonetheless a natural politician. His personal gifts, including his oratory, were certainly a foundation of his political success.

I’d add that Jerry Brown’s successes over a long career arguably surpass those of his father. And Brown completely dominated Sacramento in his final two terms as governor.

Perhaps this mastery, after decades of experience, was learned and not natural? Surely that is not a distinction that the assessment of Harris’s political talent hinges on. First elected in 2004, she has been immersed in the political world even longer. She’s had ample time to learn.

Just to cover all the bases, let’s turn to the other side of the aisle. The most successful Republican political figure in the past half century, Ronald Reagan, was renowned for his stage presence, especially in front of the camera, and for communicating evocative themes in clear, simple terms with convincing sincerity.

Above all, Ronald Reagan was also a natural politician. Virtually every new account demonstrates that the stage and not the Statehouse or Capitol Hill may be the most effective launching pad for power in a picture culture.

He clearly had a knack for politics. Reagan was elected president of the Screen Actors Guild in 1947, long before he spent years honing conservative talking points as a spokesman for General Electric. But, natural or not, Reagan (as with the other successful politicians) had decades to develop into the iconic figure we remember – ‘the great communicator’ who could speak for a nation.

I’ll readily grant that Kamala Harris has an impressive array of political skills. But what is it, exactly, that she has that none of the other Democratic candidates possess in such ample measure? Why is she “the most natural political athlete of the bunch”?

She’s a good debater – sometimes; that is, when she is well-prepped in advance and doesn’t have to think on her feet (though thus far she has turned in an impressive performance in one debate out of three). A handful of sharp questions in the Senate Judiciary Committee also speak of ample preparation, not agility.

Harris – like Pat Brown, as referenced above – has a ready laugh (even when she laughs longer and harder than anyone else in the room at her own quips).

Is she charismatic? That’s a loaded word. One that is often associated with youth, vigor, and – yes – good looks. Think of JFK. Think also of Barack Obama’s enthusiastic commentary on Harris as “the best-looking attorney general in the country.” Trende’s use of the word ‘athlete’ is also suggestive. Does charisma turn on physicality, if not physical attractiveness?

In Leonhardt’s own reckoning, the Harris campaign (at this stage) has exposed a couple of significant weaknesses. “There is a pattern here. Harris can be too quick to speak or react without thinking.” The second weakness is her failure to “develop a clearer theory of her campaign’s case.” In other words, to articulate why she is running for president. She must, Leonhardt advises, “help voters understand her values and priorities.”

Leonhardt continues, “Over the last several months, I’ve had several Democratic voters tell me a version of the same story. They had just listened to Harris appear on television or a podcast, and they really wanted to like her. Yet she didn’t quite meet their expectations. They weren’t sure exactly who she was.”

Leonhardt and I – with those Democratic voters he’s spoken with – are in agreement again. But I think that singling out Harris as the “most natural” talent among the dozen or so experienced Democratic candidates pursuing the nomination reveals a hunger for an inspirational opponent to take on Donald Trump; a hope that Harris will live up to her resume and her identity and those fleeting moments in front of the cameras when she prosecuted the case (against Barr and Biden, for instance); a fervent desire to read into her something Democrats long for – rather than a reasonable assessment of Senator Harris’s political touch circa 2019.

Ed Kilgore writes today of Senator Harris:

From the get-go, she was a smart-money favorite. She was telegenic, well-spoken, and multiracial (half-Asian-American, half-African-American, and married to a white Jewish guy to boot), with a solid résumé of federal, state, and local offices — and nary an electoral defeat.

Democrats have been pulling for her – longing for her to succeed. But, as we watch the primary play out, do Harris’s political skills really set her apart?

The best politicians, those with a real mastery, seem to enjoy the give and take of the political arena. And we enjoy watching political figures – at least those on our side – who thrive in that environment, those who make it look easy and effortless. We may call them naturals.

I have no doubt that Sean Trende can make a case for the natural talent of the junior Senator from California. But placing her above everyone else in this diverse group of candidates? I don’t believe that what we’ve actually witnessed can justify that judgment.