End of the party
Commentary by ADAM TANOUS
Increasingly, the two party system we have
lived by for all these years resembles more an awfully long pennant race—a
particularly rancorous one like the Yankees and Red Sox—rather than a way to
organize political thought and instill debate in the political process.
Certainly there are still two sides participating in the political process. But
they are distinguishable more as a means for keeping score of who is winning and
losing than any kind of measure of coherent political thought.
What does it mean exactly to be Republican
or Democrat? Traditional points of departure are harder to define than even 20
years ago.
If a president were to impose tariffs (up
to 30 percent) on imported steel what would you call him—liberal protectionist?
Or, say one that ran the government at deficit of $300 billion—big-government
Democrat? Then there’s a president that pledges $15 billion to the Global Fund
to fight HIV and AIDS? A bleeding heart Democrat ignoring more pressing concerns
at home?
How about a president going to the United
Nations looking for money and troops in an effort at—to use the verboten
phrase—"nation building"?
We could look at things from the other
side as well. What side of the isle would a president fall on if he spent most
of his political capital on passing the North American Free Trade
Agreement—pro-business, anti-union Republican?
Or what about a politician arguing in the
Supreme Court about election law and federalism? Is it in keeping that a
Democrat argues for states’ rights? This, of course, is a reference to the
presidential election of 2000. Were not the parties on the wrong sides of their
political fences?
In one regard the lines have blurred
between the parties. They cross over, appropriate each other’s issues,
triangulate the voters.
This is not to say there aren’t still some
definable differences between the parties. The balance between environmental
protections and business interests still seems to divide the parties fairly
predictably. And then there is the incendiary arena of social issues.
But social issues—abortion, affirmative
action, capital punishment, issues associated with sexuality don’t really sift
out in terms of political philosophy but break along religious lines. And this
divide isn’t necessarily between the religious and nonreligious. It has more to
do with degree of conviction: how fundamentalist in nature one’s faith is.
In simple terms, fundamentalism is strict
adherence to the texts of a given religion, whether that text is the Koran,
Torah or the Bible. It is to subsume human reason and judgement to the
as-written commandments of God, regardless of social, legal or political
context.
Of course the religious population in this
country is vast and diverse; the number of strict fundamentalists is not that
great in relation to the whole. However, the faithful exist on a spectrum, with
the fundamentalists on one end and the agnostic on the other.
But it occurs to me that one reason these
social issues are so intractable on a political level is they touch on the
tender chord of religious conviction—a place where reason and judgment—the tools
of political and legal discourse—have little sway. When differing religious
views are at the base of an argument rarely is the issue resolved. Debate
degenerates into heated emotional invective. Religious and spiritual views—no
matter how strong or weak, no matter what kind—are not conducive to political
debate, which assumes some degree of compromise in the end. It is rare, and
probably oxymoronic, that religious conviction would ever be compromised.
It seems obvious that the framers of the
Constitution prefigured this dilemma in their drafting the First Amendment and
its call for separation of church and state.
It is also no wonder that many of the
social issues mentioned above sooner or later run their course through the
political world and end up in the Supreme Court.
But what does all this mean?
It means that the decisions the electorate
makes will increasingly be made on factors other than the general political
inclinations of a candidate’s party and more on the individual’s character.
To refine the point, consider the
Democratic presidential race. Does anyone really expect to distinguish among the
gaggle of 10 on political terms?
The candidates triangulate the electorate
on just about every issue—of course carefully avoiding the deadly social
issues—in order to garner votes of soccer moms and NASCAR dads. In the tangled
web of principles the candidates present, what are we left to judge them with
but character, and perhaps intelligence.
If we were to throw out the candidates’
stances on all political issues—whether genuine or not—we’d still have plenty to
evaluate.
Consider our recent history of presidents.
Reagan was certainly a leader with integrity and political acumen, but never
seemed to fully grasp the complex issues before him. Bush senior was apparently
bright enough for the job, but not a very dynamic, nor charismatic leader.
Clinton was intellectually sharp but failed in the integrity department.
So, if we vote purely on qualities that
can’t be manipulated by handlers or pollsters—intelligence, integrity, charisma,
ability to lead through difficult decisions—we might actually end up with a
president we respect and trust.
The danger in this approach to voting is
that we might end up voting purely on name recognition. Witness the surge of
Schwarzenegger in the California gubernatorial race. How much of his popularity
is due to his perceived character traits—leadership, honesty, wits,
integrity—and how much is due to the fact that just about everyone in the
universe has likely seen at least one of the brawny fellow’s movies?
To appreciate the danger of slipping away
from voting on character to voting for a name we recognize, consider a film of
Arnold’s that was actually somewhat compelling: "Total Recall." Arnold’s
identity flips inside out at more than one point in the movie. Even by the end,
we’re not quite sure who is who or was who.
I’d hate to see that happen in California,
and even more would hate to see it happen on the national level.
Personality in politics is great—if you
have one—and only one.