Off Center,
Death by a Thousand Cuts
2 book
reviews by Eyal Press
The Nation magazine, January 2,
2006
Something strange has happened in the
year since conservatives celebrated the re-election of George
W. Bush. The Republican Party, free at last to run the country
as it sees fit, is fast becoming an object of popular loathing.
First came the Bush Administration's plan to privatize Social
Security, which sparked unease in the red and blue states alike.
Then came the GOP's intervention in the Terri Schiavo case, which
three-fourths of Americans deemed inappropriate. There was the
threat to "go nuclear" in order to insure Democrats
wouldn't filibuster right-wing judicial nominees, withdrawn after
it became clear the public didn't appreciate such talk. And we
haven't mentioned Iraq, "Scooter" Libby or Hurricane
Katrina yet. In an October poll, six in ten Americans said President
Bush does not share their priorities; well over half now believe
the Iraq War was a mistake; fewer than one-third feel the nation
is on the right track.
It's enough to make you think that losing
the 2004 presidential election was the best thing that could have
happened to the Democrats. Why, then, does the prospect of a bold
liberal resurgence seem so farfetched? Why, even as Bush's approval
ratings plunge to record lows and charges of ethical misconduct
hover over figures like Bill Frist and Tom DeLay, do the Democrats
appear so feckless? Why is it all too easy to imagine the GOP
riding out its recent troubles and holding on to power in the
midterm elections next year?
In their new book, Off Center, political
scientists Jacob Hacker and Paul Pierson argue that the answer,
at least to the last of these questions, rests in the emergence
of a Republican political machine that has managed to undermine
and subvert the mechanisms of accountability in our democracy.
Like many pundits and political commentators, Hacker and Pierson
take as their starting point the conventional assumption that
in American politics the balance of power lies in the center--with
the so-called swing voters, whom both parties assiduously courted
last year and who, in a closely divided electorate, ought to be
able to prevent politicians on either side from drifting too far
to the extremes.
The recent behavior of the Democrats, at least, bears the maxim
out. The party's leaders get anxious when anyone so much as utters
a word that might be perceived as veering too far to the left.
If the Republicans are upbraiding anyone in their ranks, by contrast,
it's for signs of moderation. Again and again in recent years,
Hacker and Pierson show, the GOP has enacted policies--assaults
on workplace health and safety regulations; tax cuts that overwhelmingly
benefit the rich; the rollback of environmental laws--whose thrust
is unabashedly radical. Despite commanding razor-thin majorities,
Republicans have pursued an agenda that caters to their increasingly
right-wing base without paying a political price. They have gotten
away with this not because America has grown rabidly conservative--in
fact, as Hacker and Pierson demonstrate through polling data,
a majority of citizens oppose the GOP's agenda on everything from
the environment to Social Security to the minimum wage--but because
the bonds between ordinary voters and elected officials have grown
increasingly frayed.
Some of the developments Hacker and Pierson
document to buttress this claim--rule changes in Congress that
have centralized power in the hands of reactionaries like Tom
DeLay; policy shifts achieved through executive orders that slip
below the media's radar; legislation written behind closed doors
with no public debate--will be familiar enough to readers of this
magazine. What is new is the connection the authors draw between
the machinations of a fiercely determined Republican elite and
the erosion of our civic institutions. On the one hand, they note,
the institutions that are supposed to help citizens stay abreast
of what elected officials are doing--"traditional news organizations,
widespread voluntary organizations...locally grounded political
parties"--have grown increasingly anemic. On the other, Republican
elites "craft rhetoric and policies to make it difficult
for even the well informed to know what is going on." Tax
cuts are thus front-loaded with provisions that aid middle-income
families, while the benefits to multimillionaires are disguised
and delayed. Massive corporate giveaways are woven into legislation
on issues (prescription drug legislation, an energy plan) the
public generally wants the government to take action on. If you
are highly educated and have enough free time on your hands, sorting
through the details to determine exactly who the winners and losers
are is certainly possible. But lots of people don't, and given
the media's growing fixation on drama and brevity, even those
who make a sustained effort might remain unapprised. Consider
Bush's 2001 tax cut, arguably the most important piece of domestic
legislation of the past five years. Hacker and Pierson were among
a team of researchers who examined every story that ran in the
nation's top-circulation daily, USA Today, on the issue in 2001.
Of the seventy-eight articles that appeared, the vast majority
examined the politics surrounding the plan, a mere six focused
on its contents and only one looked at its distributional effects.
The results were not much better in the New York Times, where
just seven stories explored the distributional effects.
It is hard to read Off Center without
concluding that the capacity of political elites to manipulate
public perception has come to overwhelm the ability of the average
overworked, infotainment-saturated citizen to understand what
is being done in his or her name, a depressing thought when one
considers that democracy can't really function without an informed
citizenry. But is deception the main reason our politics has veered
off center? It's not as though Karl Rove and Tom DeLay invented
lying and manipulation, after all. Richard Nixon and Henry Kissinger
were equally skilled practitioners of the craft and no less Machiavellian.
Of course, back in Nixon's day the Republican Party still had
a substantial number of moderates in its ranks. There were also
plenty of Democrats around who didn't automatically roll over
when conservatives tried to bully them. A striking thing about
the litany of radical legislation catalogued in Off Center, from
tax cuts to the energy plan, is how frequently Democrats in Congress
caved in or went along, something Hacker and Pierson acknowledge
but play down in their analysis. Their book offers one of the
more original and thought-provoking takes on American politics
in recent years. But the disparity they highlight between what
voters say they want and what the GOP gives them is not due solely
to zealots like DeLay; equally important has been the absence
of an opposition party willing to stand up and fight for an alternative.
***
The story Michael Graetz and Ian Shapiro
tell in their recent book, Death by a Thousand Cuts, vividly illustrates
the problem. Graetz, a law professor at Yale University, and Shapiro,
a political scientist at Yale, set out to unravel what on the
surface appears a mystery: how the drive to repeal the estate
tax, a measure that affects just 1 to 2 percent of the population
and that is paid predominantly by the superrich, fueled a grassroots
campaign that ended up throwing Democrats on the defensive. In
a typical year the estate tax brought in enough revenue to fund
one-half of the spending of the Department of Homeland Security
or of the Education Department, or twice the amount of money spent
on Pell grants (the largest federal program to help nonwealthy
students attend college). It was, in other words, a tax the vast
majority of Americans had a vested interest in keeping on the
books, a point the Democrats should have had an easy time making.
Why didn't they? The simple explanation
is that Republicans employed deception, renaming the estate tax
the "death tax" to make it sound like something that
affected everyone and trotting out people like Chester Thigpen,
an African-American tree farmer from Mississippi and a grandson
of slaves. (Not for the first time, color-blind Republicans managed
to recover their vision when trying to put one over on Americans.)
In 1995 Thigpen testified before Congress about how the estate
tax was going to rob his family of the American dream. "We...want
to leave the Tree Farm in our family," he explained. "We're
not rich people." His story was promptly featured in a Heritage
Foundation report, "Death Tax Devastation: Horror Stories
from Middle-Class America." One detail not mentioned is that
Thigpen didn't actually come to Washington on his own initiative
or write his testimony--he was recruited by a man named Jim Martin,
a GOP activist and Bush supporter who heads a seniors organization
that was pushing for estate-tax repeal. Also omitted was that
Thigpen's estate was not, in fact, taxable--he really wasn't rich,
and so, as with the vast majority of family farmers and small-business
owners, the measure wasn't going to cost him a nickel.
Even so, Graetz and Shapiro make a convincing
case that propaganda was not the chief reason the campaign to
repeal the estate tax gathered steam. A far more important factor
was that throughout the 1990s, the only people in Washington making
impassioned moral arguments about it were antitax conservatives,
a committed network of true believers determined to convince Americans
that it was wrong on principle for the government to tax anybody's
assets when they died. Had there been voices on the other side
arguing that levying a tax on inherited wealth in a nation where
people pride themselves on self-reliance is both right and fair,
the passion and energy of the repeal forces might have been neutralized.
But there weren't. Democrats for the most part ignored the issue.
When they finally got around to thinking about it, they weren't
sure what their position should be, let alone how to frame it
in compelling moral language. Not surprisingly, they were easily
outmatched. "Talking to the strategists from both sides,"
write Graetz and Shapiro, "left the indelible impression
that the Democrats facing the repealers were like the Yale football
team trying to take on Ohio State."
This is what happens in politics when one side makes clear what
it is fighting for and the other side does not, a seemingly self-evident
point that has somehow been lost on the Democratic Party's leading
strategists. Again and again during the 2004 presidential campaign,
the swing voters so coveted by the Kerry campaign told pollsters
and reporters that while they weren't crazy about Bush, at least
they knew where he stood and what he believed. Even Kerry's most
ardent supporters were hard-pressed to say this about him. The
effort to tar Kerry as a "flip-flopper" worked in part
because on issues like Iraq, eyes glued to the polls, this is
exactly what he was...
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