Monthly Archives: September 2017

Patriot Shames

Winston Churchill once observed that everyone claims to support free speech, even though it is painfully obvious that they do no such thing. That’s certainly the case in contemporary politics. The notion of free speech currently held dear by a lot of prominent self-righteous gum flappers boils down to this: “I have the inviolate liberty to say and do what I want, but you better just shut your pie hole. Or else.”

Churchill being Churchill, he was a skosh more eloquent than I. What he actually said was:  “Everyone is in favor of free speech … but some people’s idea of it is that they are free to say what they like, but if anyone says anything back, that is an outrage.”  Well, we’ve had a week of free speech four-flushers positively vibrating with outrage because football players insist on deliberately disrespecting our flag, flouting our values, and insulting law enforcement officers and military veterans. What outrage do they commit to express such comprehensive contempt for all things American? They, um, silently take a knee during the national anthem.

Assuming a crouch while the notes of the sovereign hymnal hang in the air is seen by some as a grievous insult to the Republic and all it stands for. And while football players might be descending from the vertical quietly, the choleric response is rocketing skywards with a high-decibel roar. Many are now calling for sanctions, boycotts, and even pink slips — they actually want these individuals deprived of their employment because they sat down during a song. Chief among these, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, is the president of the United States. Donald Trump is in high dudgeon over all this genuflecting on the gridiron, saying team owners should respond to such insolence by saying, “Get that son of a bitch off the field right now. Out! He’s fired.”  It did not go unnoticed that his was a full-throated, no caveats denunciation of mostly black football players. There was none of the there’s-some-good-people-in-there equivocations bestowed upon the mayonnaise-hued tiki torch trust recently observed defending confederate statues and proposing a little light ethnic cleansing.

I’m not sure how silently planting a patella to convey a sincerely held view about racial inequity gets interpreted as a deliberate insult to the United States, the values it represents, and the people—especially in law enforcement and the military–who defend them. But so it goes. Some military and law enforcement veterans do seem to feel pretty sore about the whole deal. Others who wear, or have worn, a uniform seem to be saying, fair enough. First Amendment, land of the free and all that (I count myself among this latter group). I completely get disagreeing with the message, but responding to it with boiling outrage that Americans have the temerity to express a legitimate viewpoint and should be prevented or punished for doing so seems, well, kind of un-American.

And it’s worse than that. On some level, this whole debate is just silly. The message underlying the gesture has, at this point, largely been obscured. Egged on by our president, we’re now doing little more than playing nasty and vicious patriot games, groups at each other’s throats all because a few millionaires cop a squat during the jingoistic yodeling before a sporting event.  It’s kinda surreal, and makes one wonder why America is so uniquely insistent on mandatory public professions of patriotism every time someone blows air into a leather bladder. Other countries manage to put on domestic athletic contests without national anthems, flags the size of Delaware, fighter jets, and sundry collective affirmations of national self-worth.  Maybe we could follow their example and, you know, just play ball?

Fat chance. Poseur patriots are clamoring for politics to be taken out of the game, but certainly not all the symbolism about the polity. They want to keep the anthem and flag waving and its opportunities to deliver the shut-your-gob treatment to those who refuse to abide by the deferential norm. Sure, football players should be free to express a viewpoint, but not actually on a football field. They should do it outside the stadium on their own time. Hmmm. Well, I could be wrong here, but I’m pretty sure if jocks all over the country took to prostrating themselves alone in their kitchens it wouldn’t have quite the same impact. Tellingly, very few of those now taking umbrage at the knee droppers also seem to get huffy about players shoving their beliefs in our face when they credit a deity for the touchdown, gather for a prayer circle after the game, or pull a Tebow on national television.  The whole brouhaha seems less about players expressing a viewpoint to a sporting audience, than expressing a viewpoint that makes a big chunk of that audience uncomfortable.

Football players quietly refusing to place themselves in the upright and fully locked position during the national anthem represents no serious threat to the Republic. When people in high office stoke outrage at such expression, and explicitly call for those who articulate it to be coerced into censoring that expression—to threaten them with losing their livelihoods—well, now we are talking some measure of peril. Perhaps those screaming the loudest about American values should remember freedom of expression is one the most important of those values—even, and especially, when it is done in a place and a manner that some take offense to.

The Big Equihack Makes A Case for Regulation

Equifax, the embattled credit rating agency known for its signature Windows 95 security app, has been taking it on the chin over the past few weeks. And, fair enough, the company deserves what it’s got coming. It is a business built entirely on sneaky-beaky data diddling, a giant corporation dedicated to hoovering up every jot and tittle of your personal information and peddling it to usury merchants for eye-watering fees.

Essentially, Equifax is in the business of selling online identities, yours almost certainly among them. By some estimates, worldwide it has information on 800 million individuals and 88 million businesses stuffed into its data swag bag. What those files contain is everything you need to get a credit card, open a mortgage, and secure a loan. It probably goes without saying, but if that information falls into the hands of the iniquitous, the virtual you may be up to your neck in financial hurt. The real, you, of course, will have to deal with the consequences.

So get prepared to deal. Sometime this summer hackers swiped the personal data of 143 million people from Equifax. The company waited a month before letting on that they’d allowed just about every adult American’s online soul to be surreptitiously sucked up by dark web’s bagman. Indeed, even now Equifax doesn’t seem to be exactly clear on everything that’s gone missing, when it went missing, or where it went. On the upside, as long as you promise not to sue them they are willing to, um, not act like complete shits. Ha, ha, just kidding! You can read in-depth about their incompetence, perfidy, and rapacious contempt for consumers here, and here, and here, and just about any other media outlet in reach of the Google machine.

True, a boo-boo this big demands that there be some consequences. Someone might be exiting corporate headquarters with the boot of ignominy attached to the seat of their pants, and no doubt there will be one or two on the receiving end of a stern finger-wagging. That, though, seems about the far limit of accountability Equifax is willing to voluntarily countenance. And even the shamed executive given the old slingeroo will no doubt depart with millions in compensatory severance boodle. I suppose that will help salve the sting of accidentally helping expose the whole credit rating shootin’ match for the cesspool of consumer-screwing avarice that it is. It goes without saying that there’s little hope of a golden parachute cushioning the fall for the rest of us. In so many words, we’re being told to just flap our arms real fast and hope for the best.

As usual when corporate greed grubbers drop this sort of a manure muffin on the plates of an unsuspecting populace, there is a boost in hue and an uptick in cry about the dangers of letting all these free range corporate chiselers run wild. Dern that federal gummint, shouldn’t it have done something? You know, like, maybe, regulate them? At least a little bit? Huh, now there’s an idea.

Of course, there is a broad agreement these days that regulating free markets is a bad idea. In general, Americans are not big supporters of government regulation, and they seem to have specific objections to passing and enforcing rules of fair play on businesses. Their elected representatives are not big on the idea either. And the people who run credit rating agencies definitely give the whole concept a thumbs down. Back in June, at the exact same time hardworking cyber-thieves were starting to pump data out of Equifax like water from a fire hose, the Consumer Data Industry Association was aghast that Rep. Lloyd Smucker (R-PA) hinted he might ask Congress to pass a rule or two protecting consumer privacy.

In high dudgeon they wrote him a letter pointing out that: (a) credit rating companies already were staggering under the onerous burdens of federal regulation, and (b) there was no need for any gummint regulation because of the industry’s widely recognized fervent dedication to protecting sensitive information. The CDIA noted what resolute defenders of the public trust the Equifaxes of the world were, and the “strong authentication techniques” they used to insure that “consumer disclosure is not going to the wrong person.” As they summed up, “The consumer reporting industry is adequately regulated and goes to great lengths to ensure consumer data is protected” (you can read the full letter here).

A seasoned veteran of the corporate-political interface will be able to parse those words carefully enough to extract their true meaning: “We’re lying our asses off about being over-regulated, and we don’t give a flip about who has their mitts on Joe Q. Public’s digits, but we’re richer than Croesus and want to keep it that way. So bug off. We’ll call you if we need a bailout.” Or words to that effect. In reality, the credit rating game is played with extraordinarily little public oversight, and what oversight does exist is as likely to be implemented by state governments as the feds.

Maybe the Equifax data breach will change that. Certainly there’s a lot of people charging around the public arena right now pointing out that a pretty good-sized equine just exited the barn, so maybe the federal government should do something about all those open doors. And, indeed, given that credit rating agencies deal in what amounts to our online avatars–remember, “their” product is our identities–it makes a lot of sense for government to treat them as the equivalent of a public utility. That means regulating them, really regulating them, not using the fill-in-the-blank rule book they currently operate under.

There’s some small chance this will actually happen. Free market fan boys have at least temporarily muted their assassin’s creed vows to do in the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, the federal agency that, despite the best efforts of Congress, has actually been trying to keep the gouging, duping, hood-winking and general larceny in the financial sector to a minimum. There have even been some rumbles about untying one of the CFPB’s regulatory hands in deference the degree of inconvenience the Equifax hack is visiting upon citizens.* Maybe, just maybe, the financial industry is not quite the steadfast protector of privacy it claims to be. Some in Congress seem, however reluctantly, open to the notion that companies like Equifax are more interested in profits than probity. Maybe a federal bully boy with the power to stick up for the small guy is not such a bade idea, even if it does cut a fraction of a point off the old quarterly profit report and downgrade executive bonuses from truly obscene to merely outrageous.

I wouldn’t hold your breath, though. Any such regulation is likely to give the Gummint-Bad-Bidness-Good Congressional Caucus the fantods, and those lads have patented a legislative solution that automatically dilutes any real restraint placed on Wall Street and its brood. The Great Equihack Gaffe of 2017 might raise a doubt or two about the dangers of unchecked financial finagling, but, as is almost certainly being pondered in corporate lobbying suites right now, what’s all that money for if not to calm the qualms of wavering legislators?

 

* Congress has tightly secured both of the agency’s hands behind its back back to make sure they didn’t give too much aid and comfort to predatory consumers asking awkward questions about why they had six Wells Fargo checking accounts they didn’t ask for.

Bernie’s Wishful Notion Potions

 

I’m not sure if Bernie Sanders actually graduated from the Hogwarts Academy of Political Enchantment and Necromancy, but his level of magical thinking certainly puts him in Dumbledore cogitation territory. He seems to be thoroughly convinced that he can conjure up an American Denmark out of the Republic’s potions book. Um, yeah. Good luck with that.

Now, it’s possible that Bernie actually does know the location of some secret political Platform Nine and Three Quarters, a place where a solar-powered liberal locomotive will arrive complete with an organic treats trolley, the populace will happily pile on, and from thence be steamed off to some progressive Elysium while munching fair trade chocolate frogs. That makes about as much sense as some of Bernie’s policy proposals, proposals that grown-ups who should know better are starting to take way too seriously.

Case in point is Bernie’s current drive to implement a single-payer, universal healthcare system (you can watch him giving the basic pitch here). He’s tried this several times before. He supported the 1993 American Health Security Act, which was basically state-based universal health care coverage (you can read the full text of the bill here), and he went whole hog for socialized medicine in the American Health Care Security Act, a bill he introduced into the Senate in 2013 (actually the bill got pretty watered down, but if you want to see where he was coming from you can read his original proposal here ).

None of those efforts made much noise. In between torpedoing the Clinton administration’s healthcare reform efforts and sucking the soul out of Obamacare, partisan Dementors sent Bernie’s healthcare plans off to the congressional equivalent of Azkaban. Not this time. Bernie has roughly a third of the Democrats in the Senate signing on as co-sponsors of his new bill–including pretty much everyone being seriously considered as a 2020 presidential aspirant. The bill is the Medicare for All Act, the thrust of which is to, well, put everyone on Medicare. In a nutshell, the basic idea is for all of us to have the same basic health insurance plan, which will be provided by the United States government. None of that Obamacare shilly-shally, it’s on to that geezer pleaser, the doc-for-the-vox-populi plan for the lot of us.

How will that work? How much will it cost? Who’s going to foot the bill? What about Big Pharma, Big Med, and Big Insurance, won’t they have a big problem with it? Will the GOP make some political hay out of this and might it, perchance, cause some problems for the Democrats? In order, here are the answers: dunno, dunno, dunno, affirmative-roger-bingo, and, you bet your sweet bippy.

The dunnos are standard Bernie-gram policy communication. He is not known for letting irritating practical details get in the way of forcefully advocating sweeping reform. He is super-keen on loudly insisting government do something, but whispers inaudibly about all the practical particulars necessary to transform wish into reality. Indeed, he gets kind of snippy when people pester him with vexatious queries like, “How’s that gonna that work?” In this case, the plan seems to be that Congress declares health care a human right and everyone signs up for Medicare. And then … well, something, I guess. Maybe Bernie mutters a sotto voce incantation of “wingardium leviosa”, gives a swish of one of Mr. Olivander’s best wands, and yada, yada, yada, ol’ Doc Potter is standing by to write free prescriptions for the migraine I feel coming on.

Now a single-payer system is, in theory, not a bad idea. Actually, it’s a pretty good one. It can mean everyone gets basic health care coverage, and no one gets sent to the poor house, even when the doc takes a look at those lab results and diagnoses it as a virulent case of “cha-ching!” It’s not the idea that’s bad–I’m actually down with it. Nor is it the philosophical issue Bernie-types like to bang on about. In other words, the arguments over whether health care should be a human right, a universal privilege bestowed on all by a benevolent state out of noblesse oblige, or something like tacos and underpants, a good you purchase on your lonesome without tax-backed subsidies. Who cares as long as you can get reasonable access to healthcare services without risking penury? That, said, if Bernie does get this through, I wouldn’t be surprised to see him proposing free taco trucks on every corner and nationalizing Fruit of the Loom.

The real problem is not conceptual or philosophical, but practical. In a technical sense, how do you make it happen? In a political sense, how can you make this feasible? Answering the first question means figuring out how to blow up a sixth of the American economy and radically restructure it in a way that leaves everyone with decent healthcare. That’s tough. Real tough. It’ll require pols and policy wonks to put on their big boy pants and hammer out deals with the healthcare industry that many are not going to like.   Other countries have managed it, though, so surely with a skosh of Yankee ingenuity and can-do grit we can figure something out.  I suspect an answer to the second question, though, is simply out of reach. I just don’t see how this works politically.

Let’s take just one screamingly obvious political issue this proposal creates. Roughly 150 million Americans get their health insurance through their employers. And by all that Nate Silver calls holy, they seem to like those plans. The Bernie Bros—and remember, this now includes a big chunk of supposedly grownup Democratic senators—seem to think you can go out on the campaign trail and tell these people, “we’ve got this ace idea to take away your healthcare plans and put you all on Medicare! But don’t worry, your healthcare will be better. Or not. We’ll get back to you on that. But you definitely will pay less. Unless you pay more. Anyway, it’s a fabbo idea, so remember to vote for us!”

There is no doubt that huge numbers of sitting legislators are willing to go out into the 2018 midterms and hit that message hard, loud and relentlessly. And they are almost all Republicans. From a GOP perspective, this won’t cure the electoral damage of the Great Obamacare Repeal and Replace Fiasco and Masacree of 2017. But it might make it sting a bit less, or at least provide a reasonable campaign trail dodge to the effect that Republicans aren’t the only ones proposing to blow up the healthcare system without carefully thinking through details.

Let’s face it, Bernie hasn’t exactly been good for the Democratic Party. He winged Hillary Clinton’s presidential campaign pretty good, and looks set to put a lesser, but still potentially painful, burn on the Democrats with this healthcare push. But then again, I can’t fathom why anyone would think he might be good for the Democratic Party because, well, he’s not a Democrat. Granted, he plays one when it suits the purpose (Politifact says, at best, he’s an unenthusiastic,  reluctant and inconstant Democrat ). Near as I can figure, he’s an independent/Socialist who doesn’t like political parties, but is happy to take advantage of them. He likes to sit outside the system and rail at it and demand it should change. The problem is that while he’s pretty good at saying what he wants changed, he’s lousy at providing any realistic path to getting there. He just seems to think it will happen if only enough people want it to. What’s worrisome is that people who should know better are starting to take that whole idea seriously.

The click-your-heels-and-wish-real-hard school of politics, though, rarely achieves much. And until an Owl comes down your chimney with Medicare enrollment papers, I wouldn’t put too much faith in Bernie’s magical thinking.

The Art of the Squeal

People frequently and foolishly assume that the president of the United States holds enough power to get pretty much anything they want done. Presidents, presidential aspirants, and certainly a current 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue leaseholder I could name, frequently and foolishly encourage such bosh. Presidential power in fact is a surprisingly limited–and limiting–thing.

No one knew this better than Harry S. Truman, who famously grumbled that, “I sit here all day trying to persuade people to do the things they ought to have sense enough to do without my persuading them.” Truman predicted that his successor Dwight Eisenhower was going to have a rough adjustment period. Top ranking generals in the Army can act like real authoritarians. Presidents, not so much. “He’ll sit here and say, ‘Do this! Do that!’ Truman snarkily predicted. “And nothing will get done.”

Truman’s words struck a particular chord with Richard Neustadt, who at the time (early 1950s) was a freshly minted Harvard PhD hanging around Truman’s White House as a special assistant. Neustadt was a political scientist who was unlike most of his academic tribe in that he spent a considerable amount of time interacting with actual politicians.1 Neustadt went on to become famous among my polyester-loving people (political scientists are called Das Sansabelt Volk in German) for writing the definitive book on presidential power. With the typical wit and wordplay that political scientists are known for, Neustadt titled his magnum opus, wait for it, Presidential Power.2

Joking aside, Neustadt’s book really is the definitive study of the subject and its conclusions about the actual power of the presidency shade astonishingly close to Truman’s cavils about the constraints of the office. When you get right down to it, the president’s formal powers are (at least in theory) pretty limited. He really hasn’t got the political juice to just make government do what he wants it to. He can’t make law and he can’t raise money. He has to get Congress to do that. He can veto things. But that just means admitting Congress wouldn’t do what he wanted. He can sign Executive Orders, which makes for a cool photo op, but is weak tea compared to actual legislation.

Neustadt argued that the real power of the presidency rested not on the formal tools of the office, but on three intangibles associated with whatever individual happened to occupy it: public esteem, professional reputation, and, above all, the ability to persuade. In short, the true source of a president’s influence is his (or her) deal-making skills. Powerful presidents are those that successfully nudge, nag or sway Congress into doing what they want them to do. To do that it helps to be popular with the public, it helps to have professional respect, but bottom line is you gotta be able to cut a deal.

Donald John Trump clearly lacks two of the three. His approval rating is lower than squid pee and rapidly diffusing into the salty currents of public opinion. His professional esteem basically rests on reality show star power—he rates, like, seven Lindsay Lohans on the TMZ Index of Sideshow Celebrity. His cred as some sort of business whiz, on the other hand, is pretty much PR and pixie dust. Between Trump University, Trump Steaks, Playboy videos, wrestling appearances, and the epilogue of his business books invariably concluding in Chapter 11, the president’s record as some sort of business titan covers more blemishes than Clearasil. Making a deal, though, that’s something he is supposed to be good at.

Except maybe he isn’t. Thus far, git-‘er-done deal making has not been a hallmark of the Trump administration. Deals have either never been made (health care), never got off the ground (making Mexico pay for that wall), or seem to exist completely in the never-never (NAFTA renegotiations). The central strategy of Trump’s deal making approach seems to involve royally pissing off all the important players he needs at the bargaining table, and heaping scorn on those who won’t do what he wants. And, well, maybe that works in the reality-TV-porno-business world. Democratic politics, on the other hand, is less the art of the deal than the art of the meal. It’s all about making sure you can get half a loaf. Trump seems to think the goal is to swipe the entire thing and gorge on it in front of the starving eyes of your vanquished foe.

Trump’s approach to deal making was in full head-scratching mode this week as he actually did cut a deal. With Democrats. The losers who left the bargaining table rattleboned and deprived of their much needed share of whole grain political carbohydrates were Paul Ryan and Mitch McConnell. Trump blindsided them—and even members of his own cabinet—by agreeing to a Democratic plan to attach hurricane relief spending to a short-term (three month) increase in the debt ceiling. To put it mildly, that’s not what the GOP wanted. Ryan looked understandably constipated coming out of the meeting. He was so tight-lipped and monosyllabic he clearly was suffering from irritable vowel syndrome. McConnell looked even worse. He was so thin-lipped his incisors had practically disappeared up his nostrils, the tips just peeking out like some sort of angry vampire boogers.

In the short term this gives Trump, with some degree of credibility, the right to claim he cut a deal by shoving aside the status quo way of doing things. In other words, just the sort of shake-it-up, non-politician hoi polloi hogwash he was elected on. In the long-term it almost certainly reduces his ability, perhaps catastrophically, to make future deals with Congress. Even with his own party. Why would Ryan and McConnell trust Trump, let alone stick their necks out to carry his water when he’s just shown he’s perfectly willing to hold their heads under it? Sure, it’s plenty amusing to watch Democrats and committed anti-Trumpers like Chuck Schumer and Nancy Pelosi give props to the president—their words of praise mumbled like they were still dealing with the after-effects of a particularly nasty dental procedure. But as Trump has spent eight months heaping infamy and opprobrium on both their heads, they represent the minority party in congress, and, oh yeah, their voter base is seething with virulent anti-Donny sentiment, it’s hard to see this as a long-term deal making partnership.

The bottom line is that less than a year into his term, Trump has managed to seriously corrode his working relationship with just about everyone on Capitol Hill. It’s truly an awe-invoking accomplishment. And it’s seriously going to crimp his ability to cut deals. If that last remaining leg of the power source gives, Trump may prove to be a very weak president indeed. That’s what Truman and Neustadt would surely predict. This week’s gobsmacking smoochie with the Dems may simply be Trump hankering for a win at any price to prop up his fading art-of-the deal cred. If Congress decides to go its own way, though, Trump, like Truman, will find that it can make a president scream. So, no one should be surprised if Congress is about to give the president a lesson in the art of the squeal.

  1. I’m not joking. One of the things that most surprised me about becoming a professional student of politics is the relatively low levels of interaction between this set of academics and government officials. As a political reporter I’d spent years of my working life in the company of pols. I’ve met scads of political scientists who–I kid you not–have spent less time interacting with the humans who actually practice politics than I did in any randomly chosen week, and certainly any month, of my career as a journalist. It’s a weird world I inhabit.
  2. In later editions he jazzed it up a bit, using the snappier title Presidential Power and the Modern Presidents. You can buy a copy here. Ignore my snotty editorializing about beige language—his main thesis holds up six decades on and is well worth the read.

Hurricane Hypocrisy Makes Landfall

 

 

When it rains it pours, unless it’s Texas. These days the Lone Star state is dealing with H2O in such brobdingnagian portions they’re figuring out ways to contain five barrels of water in a ten gallon hat. Never mind the impossibility of that Tardis-like volume-to-space ratio. It’s Texas. If it means helping a neighbor in need, they’ll get it done.

Yet while the good people of the Gulf Coast deal with disaster of Hurricane Harvey with a lot of laudable can-do grit and community comity, there’s a forecast of a political storm front blowing in, bringing sturm, drang, and the possibility of a category four casuistry cyclone. Yes it’s kind of depressing that politics has to stick its nose into all the come-together spirit many have displayed in a very difficult week. Big scale natural disasters, though, inevitably raise a holler for help from the gummint. And some of those now doing the hollering are increasing the chances political precipitation to better than 90 percent.

Actually, make it a 100 percent. There’s no doubt and virtually no disagreement that the federal government needs to get in there and help with the recovery efforts. The feds spent $60 billion-plus on relief efforts following Hurricane Sandy in 2013. Patching things up after Harvey’s devastation is likely to put at least as much of a dent in Uncle Sam’s wallet, but this is one of those big spending bills likely to have bipartisan support. Most people will not begrudge the federal government spending their hard earned tax dollars on rebuilding lives and communities walloped by a Revelations-level meteorological malevolency. You’d have to be a pretty unfeeling bastard to think otherwise.

Or the Texas Republican congressional delegation. A surprisingly large number of this crew (about 30) actually voted against the major relief package for Hurricane Sandy (the Disaster Appropriations Relief Act of 2013), including the state’s two current senators, Ted Cruz and John Cornyn. There were two basic justifications given for this opposition. First, it’s a lot of money and maybe the federal government should figure out somewhere else to whack out a few tens of billions in the name of prudent book balancing. Second, there was a lot of bean counting ballyhooing that the Sandy relief bill was so packed with pork that adding a slice of lettuce and a tomato damn near made it a BLT. Cruz, especially, did a lot of puffing and pontificating about this latter point.

There are two big objections to these objections. To take the latter point first, the bill was not by any stretch of the imagination the bag of pork rinds and bacon bits Cruz made it out to be (he claimed two-thirds of it was not related to Sandy). The Congressional Research Service looked into this matter in some detail and found the bill was almost entirely focused on addressing the needs created by Sandy (read the report for yourself here). More generally, while certain conservatives were scuffing their cowboy boots and indulging in some lengthy green-shading and grand standing, victims of Hurricane Sandy were left swinging in the wind waiting for their government to help. New Jersey Gov. Chris Christie—a fellow conservative Republican—had a well-documented hissy over Congress’ reluctance to unchain its checkbook. For once, Christie deserved some sympathy.

As Cruz is finding out, principled objections to federal government over-spending and over-reach get overcome pretty damn quickly when the ruinous climatic calamity is slamming into your own state. I seriously doubt Sens. Cruz and Cornyn will respond to any fiduciary nitpicking over a Texas relief package with a principled conservative, “sure, let’s take an extra month or two and make sure we’re not spending a cent more than we need to.” Well, they won’t if their constituents have any say in the matter.

This is the problem with drinking the hard line, government-is-always-bad Kool Aid the Cruz’s and Cornyn’s flood politics with. Just as there no atheists in foxholes, hard core don’t-tread-on-me states’ rights types get pretty scarce on the ground when it’s fifteen feet under water. Some situations call for massive acts of collective action and the institution most capable of providing it is the government. When such situations occur, the old Reagan joke that the most terrifying words in the English language are, “I’m from the government, and I’m here to help,” just isn’t funny.  It’s not the free market that gets people out of a disaster zone.

The government responds to a calamity like Harvey by throwing resources at the problems of disaster victims—everything from local government first responders, to state troopers, to the feds with the Coast Guard, FEMA, and the Corps of Engineers. After the storm subsides, the federal gummint will be there in the form of the Federal Housing Administration, the Small Business Administration, special programs set up by the Internal Revenue Service to help with tax relief, the Department of Labor to help with income and job assistance, and a bunch of other programs and agencies mandated to help out (BTW if you’re in a Harvey-affected area and need of information on any of this, look here).

Here’s how a free market responds to something like Harvey: it figures out a way to make money off disaster victims. This is widely condemned as price gouging—and it’s happening right now in Texas. But what is currently jacking up the prices of a case of bottle water to $99, and will no doubt have sheet rock going for similar inflated prices within two months, is the exact same free market mechanism people like Cruz and Cornyn say the federal government should never interfere with. The market is simply allocating resources by obeying the law of supply and demand. Limited supply plus high demand equals gas going for, if some reports are accurate, twenty bucks a gallon. It’s unfair, it’s unjust and it’s taking advantage of people who can ill afford the hit. Well, yeah. That’s sort of how Wall Street works, too.

The point is not that markets are always bad and government is always good, or vice versa. That sort of either-or thinking is (a) dumb, and (b) sooner or later makes hypocrites of people on both sides of the divide. One of the few good things to come from Harvey is seeing people like Sen. Cruz recognize, however grudgingly, that the federal government isn’t simply the instrument of some freedom-killing Satan he routinely makes it out to be. Properly organized and funded, it’s also a pretty good mechanism to help out tons of people in very real need. Hopefully both Texas senators will remember this the next time a disaster hits a state that is not their own.

DONATE AND HELP: Dealing with something like Harvey is a collective effort, and I don’t just mean the folks on the ground and the rest of us acting collectively through government. A lot of good organizations are pitching in.  You can find a list of reputable (i.e. no scams) groups helping out Harvey victims here. Please consider donating.