Category Archives: Governance

The State of Dis Union

I’ve spent the last few days carefully analyzing comments and reactions to the SOTU by the POTUS, including remarks, spin, body language, fashion choices and secret masonic signs flashed by FLOTUS, SCOTUS, the VP, the GOP, the DNC, NPR APBs, ASAP polling, pundit OMG-ing and many other acronyms. I’ve come to two conclusions: (1) the media needs to settle its kettle and end the pre-pubescent fascination with abbreviated text talk. WTF? It’s BS that leaves the grownups PO’d. (2) Our union is in a state.

Exactly what sort of state is a subject of some disagreement. Judging by last Tuesday’s speech Donald Trump clearly sees us in a state of historic political felicity and achievement, we’re a rejuvenated republic wisely led by a competent and beneficent government. All that positivism and pep made for a nice bookend to his inaugural address. Remember it was only a year ago he was warning us of “American carnage,” social havoc and misery that he, and he alone, could save us from. Well, problem solved, apparently. Twelve months in and we’ve gone from a society one step away from a sphincter-clenching episode of The Walking Dead to a happy collective growing fat on 401(k) dividends and hiring itinerant welders with our tax returns.

Well, that’s nice to know. Sure, the news came in a bit of a self-congratulatory swag fest.  The administration’s achievements are tremendous, historical, yuge, bigly, unpresidented, etc etc. But, if the whole “mothers and children trapped in poverty,“crime and gangs and drugs,“factories shuttered and leaving our shores” problems are now under control, as the president hinted, it’s hard to begrudge the guy a victory lap.

According to Trump, what’s needed to get the rest of the big to-do list done—infrastructure, immigration, healthcare—is a big dose of bipartisan, git-‘er-done cooperation. And no worries there, because the president is on it. He generously called on all the biased, incompetent, very unfair and TOTALLY DISHONEST losers on the other side of the isle to come together and agree to do what he wants.

Putting out the call for unity and togetherness was no doubt intended to be inspiring stuff.  I’m guessing, though, that it’ll be a tough slog fusing together a democratic glee club out of “Jeff Flake-ly”, “really sad” Lindsey Graham, that “dummy” John McCain, “Pocahaontas” Elizabeth Warren, “Cryin’ Chuck” Schumer, “dumb” politicians generally, and “crooked” Democrats in particular.* Still, the president should be given credit for magnanimously offering room on his bandwagon for all the crybabies who have felt the rough edge of his twitter feed. I’m guessing the shithole country-of-origin crowd are still off the invite list, as is the FBI, the EPA, most of the state department, all us pointy-headed academic types, liberals of all species, anyone from CNN, the New York Times, or any other news organization not called Fox, plus the FBI, short sighted generals, and, well, a long list of others currently considered infra dig. Norwegians are good though, so focus on that generous hand extended to all the Hansens and Johansens yearning to paddle up the fake news fjord.

President Trump’s self-portrait of his administration was basically a Bob Ross mash-up of Lincoln’s wisdom, Washington’s dignity, FDR’s brilliance, Churchill’s defiance, but better than all these because it gets Kim Kardashian ratings (huge!). That’s a good state to be in, so he must be well pleased with where we’re at. Some in the audience, though, were clearly not getting that picture. Seats in the House chamber seemed to be exerting some sort of massive gravitational pull on Democratic butt cheeks. That’s a big contrast with Republicans, who spent an hour-and-a-half doing jack-in-the-box applause burpees, a jump-up-and-clap marathon synchronized to insure the president wouldn’t have to talk longer than an average tweet. It looked like a real cardio and glute workout. “LYIN’ TED” Cruz was sucking wind toward the end, but the “ineffective” “disloyal” Paul Ryan didn’t even break a sweat. Must be all that P90X-ing he does.

Throughout all this vigorous GOP huzzah-ing Democrats stubbornly remained in a state of amoebic high dudgeon. Except for “wacko” “very sad!” Bernie Sanders. He sat in his usual state of high curmudgeon. Anyway, the Dems looked like exactly what they are—impotent onlookers to a political state that displeases them mightily. To get help them get back on track they drafted a young, good looking Kennedy — there always seems to be an endless supply of them — to deliver their party’s official response. The basic precis of that was, “character counts.” It obviously doesn’t, of course. Right after the speech, a porn star was on Jimmy Kimmel Live basically fessing up to bonking the prez and taking hush money to keep it all under the sheets.  Honestly, you’d think a Kennedy, of all people, would know what character counts for in politics.

Anyway, for all the huffing and puffing triggered by this extended piece of political theater, the president’s state of the union revealed nothing that we did not already know about, well, the state of union. Trump and his backers are still in a state of schadenfreude bliss, and everyone else is still in a state of blistering pique and vexation. Trump’s words and “weak on crime” Nancy Pelosi’s sour lemon phiz didn’t change any of that a lick. It just clarified the agreement on our disunion, the unanimity of our dedication to political partition. And that’s a terrible state to be in.

*Everything in quotes in this post is an actual public insult delivered by the president about the person in question. To see a comprehensive accounting of who he’s insulted and how click here. It’s a long list.

Democrats Lose the Gotcha Bowl

Sen. John Kennedy, R-LA, wins this week’s award for most pithy summation of the state of contemporary politics: “Our country was founded by geniuses,” he said, “but it’s being run by idiots.” *

As a fully paid-up member of the ruling establishment, Kennedy is better positioned than me to evaluate the Republic’s latest wobble from democracy towards idiocracy. Given the events of the last week, though, it’s hard to disagree. Congress got itself into such a state of the partisan snits that it shut down the government. And, such is the state we’re in, pretty much nobody noticed.

Partly this was because it took place over a weekend when most of us had better things to do than pay attention to politicians doing something ill-advised. We can do that anytime. Pretty much like we can watch the Patriots win the AFC any old year. On the other hand, you only get to see the Vikings fold like a cheap accordion in the NFC championship game maybe once every decade (they’re usually pre-folded before the post-season). Bottom line: The NFL playoffs put most of us in a cheap beer and Cheetos coma, with little intellectual wattage left for dealing with the latest DC disaster. By Monday most of the populace was still glumly coming to terms with Shady Brady and his band of annoyingly brilliant Foxboro fraud flingers going back to the big dance. The only thing they could be bothered to ask about the shutdown was, “Who won?”

We political science profs usually despair over the electorate reducing politics to the equivalent of a playoff game. We really should not be treating politics with the same scoreboard mentality as sporting events, even if the metaphor is apt given that immigrants, sick children, and the paychecks of millions of federal employees were being used as political footballs. The stakes here really are more serious than a superannuated quarterback getting to hoist the Lombardi Trophy (again) and say “Thpppt!” to Roger Goodell. I know, I know. Whatever. Who got the W?

Well, the winner of this month’s Gotcha Bowl–the re-match is already scheduled–is clearly the congressional Republicans, especially Mitch McConnell. Their proposal is the one that passed, and it passed because the commitment of Senate Democrats collapsed faster than the Blake Bortles dream of Super Bowl glory. Dems wanted an immigration deal and triple-dog dared the GOP to either give them one or shutter the gummint. The thinking was that, worst case scenario, the GOP caves on immigration after the public has a j’accuse hissy when national parks start closing the bathrooms.

Didn’t happen. The Dems not only did not get what they want, their hasty capitulation has their base hopping mad, and the whole mess managed to make congressional Republicans look reasonable and moderate. Even for Democrats, that’s a jaw dropping, self-inflicted penalty. Why did the Senate Democrats do this? Why bother making immigration a red line negotiating demand if you’re going to swoon into the arms of Republican preferences at the first whiff of partisan gunpowder?

Simple. It basically came down to brutal and heartless political arithmetic. The Dems genuinely want a good deal for the Dreamers, immigrants illegally brought into the country as minors. These are roughly 800,000 people facing deportation even though the United States is the only home they’ve ever really known. You have to be pretty stone-hearted not to have sympathy with these folks and lots of people–including many GOP members of Congress–want to get them out of their appalling legal limbo. This is exactly what the Dems demanded as the price of ending the shutdown. In doing so, though, they somehow forgot that they are also defending 10 Senate seats in Red States this year (i.e. states won by Donald Trump). In those states, holding the government and children’s healthcare hostage to force a deal that benefits non-citizens is a political loser. The equation doesn’t balance in plenty of other states either, but Democratic senators from those ten states were motivated to work out the math quicker. Once they figured out voters weren’t going to pat them on the back for seeking permanent legal status for immigrants by holding up paychecks for the troops, the jig was up. Democrats being Democrats, it took them two days to realize this. Belatedly, they realized their grand gamble was a pig’s breakfast and sounded the retreat.

It required no high-level feat of cognition to see all this coming before any of it happened. Basic political sentience and a minimal dot connecting capability should have been enough to put it in the forecast, but apparently these are skill sets in short supply among the Democratic Party’s leadership ranks. Just how bad was the Dems’ performance in the Gotcha Bowl? Well, let’s just say they could teach Tom Brady a thing or two about deflated balls. You don’t necessarily need geniuses to run a republic, but it sure helps to have people whose game plan is not the political equivalent of punting on first downs and whining to the ref.

*NOTE: Kennedy said this, but it’s not original–variants of this quip have been floating around the internet for at least five years .  Yet as original thinking or, heck, even just basic connect-the-dots cognition, is not exactly a hallmark of current politics, the Kennedy summation is not only an on-point observation, it does double duty in highlighting the problem addressed in this week’s post.

 

It’s Not The Economy. Maybe It’s The Stupid.

Republican lawmakers are currently defying one of the most widely accepted laws of political thermodynamics: for every economic motion there is a parallel and sympathetic political reaction. Or, as the Cajun Clinton whisperer James Carville put it, “it’s the economy, stupid.”

Okay, so it’s not exactly a law. But what’s good for the economy is good for whatever crew is running the government–especially the White House division–has proven a pretty good rule of thumb. As has its reciprocal. If the Dow Jones skitters down a gopher hole it’s a good bet the president’s approval rating is also going subterranean. Just ask Bush 43. Or Bush 41.

Which is why the GOP currently seems to be defying political gravity. By just about any measure the economy is rocking. The stock market sizzles, unemployment is 4 percent, GDP growth is a robust 3.2 percent, and a tight labor market has wages on the rise, which is good news for the lunch pail sectors that repeatedly got the shaft while the one percenters expanded their goldmines. When the git-yer-jollies-on money machine cranks up pols instinctively know there’s credit to be claimed in them thar dividends. So given all the economic positives, the piggy backers, windbags and horn blowers in charge should be huffing through a victory lap, throwing humblebrags to the voters, and sailing toward comfortable reelections.

Yet our GOP overlords seem to be reaping little of the political reward that normally accrues to lawmakers lucky enough to rule at the hilly end of the business cycle. Indeed, as measured by popular approval ratings, they are getting slammed. Forget rodent holes. Republican poll ratings are so low they have to look up to see gopher butt. Donald Trump’s approval ratings are stuck in the 30s, which is historically terrible, but still nearly double that of Republicans and their leaders in Congress (Mitch McConnell’s public approval is roughly the same as the tatometer rating for Showgirls which is, well, not good). Dozens of Republican members of Congress aren’t even waiting for the voters to render a verdict on their record of governance. So many have announced retirement there’s been a run on gold watches. What in the name of Milton Friedman is going on?

It’s a multi-variate world and there’s more than one reason why the economy is going up while the GOP’s popularity sinks lower than gum stuck to a submariner’s shoe. Certainly the, um, character issues of the president have something to do with it. There are many ways to ding your party’s reputation, and certainly doing stuff like referring to vast swaths of the planet as “shitholes” and paying hush money to porn stars is right up there. Especially if you already have a permanent case of the tweet trots and spent the past a year cementing a reputation as a chaos artist. True believers please feel free to insert here the obligatory all-purpose, all-caps snappy comebacks here. FAKE NEWS!!! WHAT ABOUT HER EMAILS!! Persuasive stuff, as always.

Now that’s out of the way, let me say I don’t think it’s just Trump’s coarse and immature shenanigans that has the Republicans in trouble (though it sure hasn’t helped). A big part of the problem is that Republicans continue to govern as if they swept into office on the back of a clear mandate, and they weren’t. According to the Federal Election Commission,  there were roughly 180 million votes cast for Democratic candidates in 2016 (this is the combined total for president, Senate and House), and about 168 million cast for Republican candidates.* In other words, as a whole the American electorate had a slight, but clear, preference for the Democratic Party. And it got a wholly Republican government.

There’s nothing wrong or suspicious or nefarious about this. The whole federal electoral system is based on state and sub-state constituencies, there is no nationally elected office (the president is elected by the states through the Electoral College, not the people), and parts of it are wildly malapportioned (the United States Senate). So the way the math works out, it’s not exactly a shocker that one party can be elected to control government even though, overall, it has less support among voters than the party consigned to the minority. The GOP won fair-sies square-sies and those still whining to the contrary just don’t understand the system.

Yet winning isn’t enough to make a go of governing. I’ve made this basic point before, but it bears repeating: the weird situation of a party controlling a democratic government when it was opposed by most voters at the polls means governing style really matters. Writing laws in secret (and employing industry hacks as ghostwriters), bending norms and rules to avoid bipartisan engagement (or even debate) might work if a sizeable majority is cheering you on. The problem for the GOP is they have no such constituency. And they’re unlikely to get one if they keep doing what they’re doing. Indeed, a plurality of the electorate (perhaps even a majority) already seems to view them less as agents for the American people, but as a group that sold its soul–not to mention its dignity–for power. That creates a big legitimacy problem.

Specifically, it translates into a lack of public approval, economy be damned. An ill-advised approach to process, treating indefensible proclamations from the party chief with situational amnesia, vacuous appeals to alt-facts, etc., etc., all this starts to catch up. Smart conservatives–and there’s still plenty around–have been shouting about this for a while (David Brooks, Jeff Flake, Charlie Sykes, even Ben Shapiro). It’s just that their own side isn’t listening.  And they should, because at some point it’s not the economy, stupid, that’s the issue. Sometimes it’s just the stupid.

*There were also about 18 million votes cast for non-major party candidates.

 

Okay, So Now What?

The Republican Party has notched its first big legislative win of this Congress, and has cranked the hyperbole machine to redline in celebration of their achievement. For President Trump it’s a down payment on making America great again. To Mitch McConnell it’s sweet, sweet relief. It appears to have given Paul Ryan a policy-gasm, an Atlas-mugged-while-having-an-Ayn-Randian- eye-roller sort of scenario.

The cause of all the giddy bluster and gloat is, of course, passage of the tax bill, a hugely complicated piece of legislation that, even now, few people have actually read and whose consequences are fully grasped by no one. Certainly not the legislators who voted for it, up to and including the self-satisfied magnificoes currently taking a victory lap and getting their boast on. It’s a dead certainty it rewards corporations with fattened profit margins, and there’s no doubt that it will give swells like our president more of the gravy. Those of us whose position in the proportional distribution is not within hailing distance of the one percent will get a few crumbs for a few years, but then it all goes away and our taxes start going up again.

While we know, at least in rough outline, that much about the tax bill, it’s just a smidge of what the furious midnight scribblings of a thousand lobbyists have actually wrought upon our economy, the government’s fiduciary position, and our personal finances. The bill is shot through with pecuniary pork for the favored water haulers of the GOP. Senator Bob Corker, for example, was shocked—shocked I tell you—that people thought he flipped his vote just because of a last minute addition to the bill that would personally enrich him. Riiiight. The entire bill is a stew of Corker kickbacks seasoned with ideological wishful thinking and held together with ambiguity and Oxford commas. Once touted as a simplification drive that would shrink tax returns to a post card, in reality this legislative stinker could have been more accurately called the Tax Accountant Full Employment Act. It’s all exception and deception, loop and hole, and TurboTax’s coders are going to be putting in overtime to get their algorithms around it all.

While we really don’t know what the tax bill does, we do know what the governing party has done in order to pass it. They have written a law in secret, shoved it through a legislature by running roughshod over procedural norms and bipartisan collegiality, and are engaging in a festival of self-congratulatory whoop-dee-doo behind a smoke screen of sophistry.

What’s truly odd about all this is that nobody outside of GOP patricians seems to care. True, public opinion is clearly against the legislation, with a majority of Americans viewing it as something primarily designed to benefit the rich. There’s no real groundswell of anger and opposition, though, certainly nothing on the order of the backlash that put the kibosh on Obamacare repeal. The best summary of public reaction to the tax bill, even among Trump supporters, is “meh.” The GOP is using the government as a scoop to shovel more coin into the pockets of the gilded and the glamorous? Shoving stuff down our throats even though a clear majority of us clearly don’t want it? Shrugs-ville. The public no longer seems to be shocked or upset at the GOP doing that sort of thing, it’s what they expect the Republican Party to do. In other words, act as an agent for affluent, willing to cut whatever corners needed to bring tribute to its corporate sponsors.

That’s a pretty dangerous position for a political party—especially a governing political party—to be in. If public opinion polls are to be believed (admittedly, a debatable proposition), the GOP’s first big legislative “win” is being viewed as an act of fealty to a privileged minority, something done in defiance of the will of the people and with contempt for the norms of lawmaking. Flushed with success, the Republican leadership is now promising to go on to bigger and better things. But what might they be? What can the GOP get done when with its only big legislative score has left the public cold, made a mockery of the legislative process, shredded bipartisanship, and produced a law that nobody really understands? Well, you got me.

Messrs. Trump, McConnell and Ryan, have taken a bow, crowed some crow and patted each other’s backs raw. Okay, so now what?

A Poll of Scorn Flakes

Remove the electoral horizon from a Republican member of the United States Senate these days and the result is an astonishing ocular descaling. With no next election occupying the majority of their visual field such legislators are finally free to take a clear-eyed look around them. As Jeff Flake, Bob Corker and John McCain are making abundantly clear, they don’t like what they see.

Because of voluntary retirement (Flake and Corker) or serious health issues (McCain), this trio is in the unusual position of not giving a hoot about the alt-right persecution platoons flitting through the fevered primary nightmares of their elected GOP brethren. Nor do they have to fear a 140-character Trump dump flushing their political careers down the Fox hole. They no longer have to worry about looking good to the right donors or the right special interest groups.

With their political peepers released from the need for the constant short-term vigilance on anything that might affect their chances in the next election, they’re staring hard at something else: Their own political party.  And, ouchie-mama, if you believe these guys, things ain’t looking good.

In the past week or two, they’ve certainly not been shy about reporting the perspective from their own-side eyeballing. The report basically boils down to this: “Hey, has anyone noticed? Our party just got a louche, unqualified bully elected president! We’re piddling on principle in our pursuit of power! We’re pushing half-baked policies with fibs and fabulation! Has anyone else noticed how surly and loutish we’ve become?” I’m paraphrasing, of course. But this is the general sentiment emanating from Flake’s extraordinary denunciation of his president (and party) from the Senate floor, Corker’s ongoing campaign of I-call-bull on the Donald and his inept minions, and McCain’s full-throated condemnation of the cockeyed populism hijacking the GOP.

Reactions to this have been mixed. The White House is in full there is no-way-they-can-see-the-emperor’s-unmentionables-through-so-many-layers-of-clothing mode. Democrats and lefties have suddenly rediscovered their respect for principled conservatives, making much noise about honorable men elevating values and comity over partisan point scoring. GOP colleagues in the Senate have mostly been silent, which can only be interpreted as “we can see the emperor’s junk clear as day, but we’re keeping mum in hopes of keeping our jobs, kudos to you guys for saying what we’re all thinking.”

Well, fair enough. Agree or disagree with them, not many these days have the onions to proclaim that their own side is two turnips short a full measure of root vegetables. Yet before anyone gets too misty eyed about the Mr. Smith goes to Washington performances or too choleric about their turncoat tirades (and, let’s face it, your perspective matters here), it is worth taking a look at how their actions correlate with their words. News flash: the concordance is pretty itty-bitty.

The curtain call caucus might lay a lot of harsh words on the president, but where the support of a senator really matters—the yea and nay of legislation—they’re all pretty rock solid Trump guys. FiveThirtyEight keeps a running tally of support of the administration’s legislative agenda in both chambers of Congress, and by that measure Flake, McCain and Corker are high-level yes men. Flake—the hero du jour of the anti-Trump GOP wing—votes with the administration 90 percent of the time. Corker clocks in with 86 percent support and McCain is at 84 percent. The words may be all maverick-y, but those voting records look pretty party line.

The scruples trio, for example, have all expressed disappointment in one way or another with the competence—specifically, the lack thereof—of the Trump administration. Yet they helped put it in place. Confirm someone as a department head who reveals at her hearing she’s innocent of even the basic details of her agency’s policy portfolio? How about someone who doesn’t seem to know exactly what his agency does? Or someone who knows the legal mandate of his agency and has vowed to torpedo it from within? The three principled amigos all voted for Betsy DeVos (Education) and Rick Perry (Energy), Flake and Corker both voted for Tom Pruitt (EPA), and McCain probably would have joined them if he’d cast a vote that dy. Excuse me if I take these guys’ anguished hand-wringing over the government’s ineptitude with a healthy pinch of salt.

And where these guys have broken with the Trump administration, it’s hard to see any high falutin’ principle-over-politics motivation. Flake and Corker bucked the Trump administration to vote against disaster relief for Puerto Rico, a piece of legislation that passed with a large bipartisan majorities. They also voted against raising the debt limit and extending relief for Hurricane Harvey, which was supported not just by the White House but pretty much all the grownups on both sides of the aisle.

McCain actually did cast one big vote that bucked the president and his party—he voted against the hot mess of the Obamacare repeal legislation. And, fair enough, that really was a big stand and a big deal. The GOP and Trump really felt that, and even if the bill in question was truly awful (it was) it can’t have been easy to provide the smack down ballot on something his party so desperately wanted.  The vast majority of the time, though, McCain’s votes reliably support the desires of the Republican Party and the Trump administration.

I guess the big test of whether the rhetoric on scruples will actually align with action is on the upcoming tax bill. No one is exactly sure of the specifics of this proposal or its likely consequences—Republican leadership and the Trump White House really don’t want anyone to know, they just want it enacted toot suite because they really need a win. It’s pretty certain it’ll favor the well off and liberally splash red ink onto the government’s ledgers, but outside of that who knows.

It’ll be interesting to see if Flake and Corker’s concerns about government debt translate into no votes. Will they stick to the core anti-deficit values they’ve been fervently espousing, or say pooh to principle and vote yea because the president and, especially, the Republican Party have to get a W? And what about McCain, is he actually willing to cock a snoot on a second major legislative priority?

Nothing is certain, of course, but political scientists know that the best predictor of future legislative behavior is past legislative behavior. On that basis, the odds are 10 to 15 percent that the say-do ratio for these three will balance out. The odds are way higher—85 to 90 percent history is any guide—they’ll say no and press yes. Their words have been harsh, even scornful. Polling their votes, though, reveals three pretty dutiful Republican loyalists. And actions should speak louder than words.

A Very Uncivil War

William Tecumseh Sherman famously argued that war is an unpleasant, bloody slog, and to pretend otherwise is fudge and folly. The optimal policy is not to fight a war in the first place, especially a civil war. If war it is to be, however, the best option is to ruthlessly rain harm on the other side as much as possible as fast as possible. If the gloves come off, get in there and mercilessly punch your opponent’s mug to a pulp, even if that means taking a few nasty licks yourself. “War is cruelty,” he said. “The crueler it is, the sooner it will be over.”

It’s a brutal philosophy, but as any Southerner stuck between Savannah and Atlanta in late 1864 can attest, an effective one. It works in politics, too. Intramural fights within political parties can be just as vicious and nasty as the most ferocious throw-downs between them. The most malevolent of these internal shootouts can devolve into Cain and Abel sorts of situations, ideological death-matches where the goal is not to lead your partisan brother to the light, but to stick a shiv in his back and put him and his movement down for good. If the ideological or policy split within a party is big enough–historical examples in the United States include slavery, trust busting and civil rights–you get the political equivalent of a full-blown civil war. As Sherman said, it is best not to get into that position in the first place. If there’s no avoiding it, though, hit first, hit hard, and don’t stop hitting until you see white flags from the other side.

Of course, all this metaphorical pugilism is presumed to serve a larger strategic goal. In other words, you commit savagery on behalf of a principle, a creed or a value so sacred it justifies do-or-die, or at least a good social media bitch slapping of people on your own side. But what if the whole point of carrying out that civil war is the sheer sport of carrying out spiteful and rancorous assaults? How do you bring that to a rapid and reasonably amicable end?

If you have a good answer to that question, the Republican Party will be (or at least, should be) glad to hear from you. The GOP is currently engaging in a particularly nasty and vicious civil war. It’s gone way past the usual jockeying for power and position of competing factions of a political party. That typically involves a lot of back-stabbing and double-crossing, but it’s mostly done behind closed doors and almost never gets to the point where the combatants are in the streets howling for each other’s heads. But that’s exactly where the GOP seems to be finding itself.

There seems to be no overarching ideological or policy goal motivating this fight. The media mostly portrays it as a conflict between the establishment wing of the Republican Party and the populist wing of the Republican Party. And, I guess, it is. The people involved certainly seem to think so. Stephen Bannon, relishing the part of Republican Party Dr. Evil, has publicaly declared “a season of war against the GOP establishment.”  The Bannon banner-men lose no opportunity to call the establishment fuddy-duddies “RINOs”, “cucks”, “booger heads,” and “snot lickers.” Okay, I made the last couple up, but some of it does smack of a 10-year-old’s you’re-not-the-boss-of-me foot stamping.

The establishment isn’t standing for it. Bob Corker and Susan Collins have wagged serious fingers (heavy on the middle digit) at Donald Trump. Secretary of State Rex Tillerson lost his temper and called his boss–the president of the United States–a moron. Dubya and John McCain are doing their best stern dad impressions, giving lectures along the lines of, “You dern kids need to stop foolin’ with all this newfangled Trumpism and listening to those hippity-hop nationalists.” Meanwhile the Republican leaders of the two houses of Congress can barely get along with each other, can barely stand the president, and seem helpless to prevent their party–the party that won everything in 2016–going into the next election bare-assed.

The end result is that Republicans keep doing inadvisable things with their own feet–shooting them, masticating them, and planting them in each other’s butts. At the center of this meltdown is President Trump, who is, hands down, the party’s champion mug-puncher. The list of sore-jawed include Paul Ryan, Mitch McConnell, pretty much his entire cabinet (notably Tillerson and Jeff Sessions), and most GOP members of the United States Senate (McCain, Marco Rubio, Ted Cruz, Lyndsey Graham, Bob Corker, Ben Sasse and on and on and on). Of course Trump has not limited his slugging to Republicans. Or even Democrats. He gets licks in on, of all people, hurricane victims and Gold Star families.

The bottom line is there is a lot of extremely nasty infighting going on within the political party that controls all the major power centers of the national government. The collateral damage could get ugly. Some of the major combatants (one in particular) do not seem to be fighting for principle. They just seem to like meanness for its own sake. The goal doesn’t seem to be to end the fight quickly but to prolong it as much as possible. Then start a new one.

Given that, I can’t hazard a guess at which side of the GOP civil war is going to win. I am pretty sure, though, which of those sides is going to lose: Both of them. War, as Sherman so eloquently put it, is hell.

 

The Know Nothing Voter

Figuring out why people vote the way they do has been one of the great obsessions of political science. And, after more than fifty years of sustained scholarly effort dedicated to cracking the code of electoral choice, we’re pretty sure that Democrats vote for Democrats and Republicans vote for Republicans. Outside of that, lots of people seem to vote for lots of candidates and causes for lots of reasons. Why? Damned if we know.

This has not been quite the colossal exercise in academic futility the last paragraph implies. True, we’re still mostly at the head scratching stage of a general explanation of how decision making really goes down in the ballot booth. Along the way, though, we’ve managed to expose the most obvious and common rationales for why people vote the way they do as so much bunk. While no one was looking, political scientists have repeatedly and convincingly demonstrated that democracy–or at least democratic elections–do not work as pretty much everyone assumes they do.

Classic democratic theory presumes voters will take their civic duties seriously and cast their ballots on the basis of reasonable due diligence. In other words, there’ll be a good deal of gathering information on candidates and issues, weighing pros and cons, and cogitating on the consequences to the commonweal of backing Joe Blow or Jane Doe. While allowances are granted for slippage between theory and practice, there’s a general assumption that voters more or less know what they are doing when they show up to the polls to pin the tail on the democratic donkey.

It’s a nice story, sovereignty of the people, wisdom of the crowd and all that. Politicians and civics teachers still enthusiastically repeat the tale. And nothing wrong with the story. I like it too. The problem is it’s mostly fiction. Back in the 1950s Angus Campbell, Philip Converse and Warren Miller crushed the idea that the foundation of our democracy was an informed, judicious civitas. They did this using a lot of survey data and an early form of computer (i.e. a bunch of grad students with adding machines). Their classic study, The American Voter, reported that most citizens know diddly about the substance of who or what they are voting for. Instead, they treat politics like beer. They are loyal to a party brand even though in a blind policy-taste test they couldn’t pick a Clinton Pale Fail from a Trump Lout Stout.

Though The American Voter is now nearly 60 years old, its essential conclusion has held up. Umpteen other studies have data-dived the question to death and arrived at the same basic inference: most people are pig-ignorant about policy and politics. Once they decide–often without much in the way of conscious and reasoned deliberation–that they are a Republican or Democrat, or at least lean one way more than the other, that’s pretty much it. People will often pay attention to politics enough to justify their vote, but more in the sense of rationalizing it than coming up with an actual rationale. In general citizens are remarkably innocent of even the most basic facts and knowledge about politics and the political system, and what they do “know” is often just a mish-mash of dodgy first principles, ersatz ideological whinging, logical fallacy, and political fairy tales. It’s all held together with little more than bumper sticker clichés and social media outrage. To a large extent, that’s what our democracy stands on. Scary, huh?

As you might imagine, broadcasting news of general political illiteracy from the ivory tower is not exactly an exercise calculated to endear political science to the masses. How dare the pointy-headed professoriate cast their elitist aspersions upon the wisdom of masses? And what the heck do we know anyway? People don’t really base their voting decisions on little more than an emotional attachment to the letters “R” or “D” printed on their ballots, do they? Surely issues matter? Isn’t that what all the gum flapping in election campaigns is about? And there’s no way the good burghers of this great nation are shallowly treating elections like some sort of intramural sporting event where Ws and Ls matter more than the fate of the Republic? Sorry to send the broken record of my discipline spinning through one more revolution, but the answers to these questions are: Yes. Mostly no. Mostly not. And, sure as shootin’.

There’s little question that in terms of political IQ the vast mass of the electorate is in Forest Gump territory. Political life is like a box of chocolates with this crew, endless consumption of sweet, sticky carbohydrates that leave you feeling sick. Three-quarters of Americans cannot accurately identify the three branches of government in their own political system. One in three freshman in my introduction to American politics class cannot pass a basic citizenship test (the students who tend do the best on this test tend to be, of all things, Eastern Europeans. Go figure). Shoot, one in five Americans believes the sun revolves around the earth. These Einsteins have either studied the matter in-depth and have a logical rationale and sufficient evidence to reject heliocentrism, or science since the Enlightenment just ain’t their thing.

I’m guessing the latter. Alarming numbers of voters on the right deny evolution and poo-pooh climate change, and just-as-alarming numbers on the left believe vaccinations cause autism and genetically modified plants are bad because, I dunno, Franken-corn or something. Anyway, there’s little doubt that given the choice between the conclusions of the best available science and the spewing of the worst of the confirmation bias commentariat there’s no contest. Huge numbers of Americans choose the latter.

So, the bottom line is we haven’t really figured out why people vote the way they do, but we remain pretty gobsmacked about what voters get up to and the far-out (il)logic deployed to justify it. Along the way, what we have figured out is why government is often so screwed up, from left to right and top to bottom. That government is, fair and square, founded on the choices of voters. Given what we do know about how those choices are made, government dysfunction is not surprising. It’s practically guaranteed.

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.