Oratorical Animal

Gingrich and Churchill

As the star of Gingrich rises slowly in the Republican field, a good many people have tried to understand why an adulterous, disgraced former Speaker of the House has become the frontrunner. Here's my weird and speculative answer: Winston Churchill.

For at least the past forty years, American conservatives have worshiped at the shrine of Churchill and that devotion only intensified in the wake of the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks. George W. Bush and his speechwriters consciously used Churchill's public address as a model and reported falling in love with the Englishman's "rolling triads." 

More important, perhaps, is the extraordinarily powerful interpretive frame shared by many--probably a majority--of American conservatives since at least the election of Bill Clinton and probably before. It goes something like this: The United States of America they knew is nearly gone. Liberals, minorities, feminists, activist judges, homosexuals, the mainstream media, the Democratic Party and, lately, the black, foreign socialist in the White House have destroyed the American economy and coarsened American culture nearly beyond redemption. Only a small, faithful band of conservatives remain, holding the candle of civilization high and beset on all sides by Islamic presidents and terrorists. In more serious forms, of course, this is a classic use of the locus of the irreparable--the argument that we are nearly at the point of no return. American life is on the precipice and will soon fail, if something is not done--a situation precisely like that of Great Britain in 1939.

Enter Newt Gingrich. Gingrich plays to the narrative better than any other Republican. Like Churchill, Gingrich is an intellectual; he writes history, fiction, and policy. Like Churchill, he's switched positions (heck, Churchill switched parties). Like Churchill, he's endured his time in the wilderness.In fact, Gingrich has been a prophet in the wilderness and is only returning to politics now to face down the appeasers, those who would lead our country into the darkness. For instance, he said this the other night: “Rick Santorum’s consistency and courage on Iran has been a hallmark of why, if we do survive, it will be in part because of people like Rick who’ve had the courage to tell the truth about the Iranians for a long time.” He's lauding Santorum here for his willingness to "stand up" to the Iranians as they develop a nuke, but what's striking here is the throwaway clause : "if we do survive." Gingrich sees Iran as Churchill saw Germany--an existensial threat to the nation's survival. That makes no sense, but it accords with Gingrich's prime narrative. If Gingrich is Churchill, then Iran must be Nazi Germany.

It's difficult, I think, to overstate the grip of this narrative on the conservative mind: they are alone, beleagured, and surrounded by appeasers. It's ridiculous, of course--when you own a television network, for example, you're not particularly beleagured and they constantly have to square the fact that they lay claim to this status while also asserting a majority of Americans are conservative. But this interpretive frame, judging by the near-constant talk of appeasement, of cultural decline, of a massive liberal media and conspiracy, is the way into their worldview.

Of course, there are obvious differences between the two men. Churchill was smart, monogamous, and drunk. Gingrich is not. But he plays Churchill better than anyone out there. Next to "Churchill," Romney is weak tea, indeed--in fact, he looks like one of those aristocratic appeasers, with his long face and perfect hair. Gingrich gets the Republican electorate. He understands their fear and exploits it with ruthless precision.

 

Occupational Psychosis, Drew Westen, and Obama's Passion

Never have I seen so many of my Facebook friends, particularly my communication colleagues, link to a piece the way they have linked to Drew Westin's "What Happened to Obama?" (This is the print edition title). I can see why. I agree with much of it. It's clear, compelling, and appeals to much that is in all of us. And that's precisely the problem with the enthusiasm. Three reservations to consider.

First, Westen makes stories--rhetoric--absolutely central to political success. He believes the human brain is hard wired to love stories. In Weston's judgment, Obama has failed to tell a good story. Ergo, he struggles politically. The fact that Westen's "story" is a syllogism (Major premise--human brain hearts stories. Minor premise: Obama sucks. Conclusion: Obama struggles) should caution us about the universality of the sweeping claims he makes. Equally important, he plays to our prejudices--"our" meaning liberal rhetoric professors like me--in two ways: 1) Rhetoric is the most important thing in the whole world. 2) Obama should have governed as a full-bore liberal. As Aristotle pointed out, it's easier to praise Athenians in Athens than it is to praise Laecedemonians. No wonder every liberal comm professor is posting this.

More important, perhaps, is the fact that, while we like stories, narrative alone makes for dangerous politics. Bill Lewis taught that to us in his magnificent 1987 QJS essay on Ronald Reagan. Narratives need evaluation in terms of their evidence and argument. Even if you grant that we are "hard-wired" to like narrative, we should learn argument. As we should have discovered even in the past few months, facts are useful. 

Second, Westen nicely--and slickly--disclaims his expertise: "As a practicing psychologist with more than 25 years of experience, I will resist the temptation to diagnose at a distance, but as a scientist and strategic consultant, I will venture some hypotheses." The second half of this sentence negates the first; he resists temptation nearly as well as Hef. Westen uses his expertise as a psychologist to explain the behavior of a person he has never met. Dr. Drew awaits!

I am always dubious about "experts" who 1) venture well outside their areas of expertise and continue to use the tools of that expertise; and 2) disclaim their expertise while using their expertise. If Westen believes Obama has failed to "resolve his identity," that is, um, a psychological evaluation. Honesty is the best policy. Look, Westen thinks Obama should have tacked farther to the left, that he should have denounced the moneychangers in the temple. Great. I agree. But don't claim, even implicitly, that expertise in psychology guarantees the success of this recommendation.

Connected to that is the utter lack of context--he makes sweeping claims about the nature of the human brain, he generalizes his personal reactions to Obama to the population at large, and, shaped by his training, he assumes the problem is in Obama's head. Kenneth Burke refers to that as "occupational psychosis," or, to use the vernacular, if you're a hammer, every problem looks like a nail.

And that's the final reservation I have. Look, for those of us old enough to remember politics clearly, you could substitute "Clinton" for "Obama" throughout this op-ed and you'd have a lovely example of the sort of thing that appeared throughout 1995. The last two Democratic presidents have run inspiring, vaguely populist campaigns that promised to right the wrongs of the Republicans. Each, then, has tacked strongly to the center, if not the right, once they landed in the presidency. Liberals screamed angrily about each one as a result.

This suggests that the problem rests not in Obama's head, but in the state of American politics--in the partisan divide (twice as many people say they are conservative as liberal), in the traditions of speech the men have inherited, in the cultural definitions of liberalism, in the economic divide that plagues the country, in the lack of a liberal infrastructure analogous to the conservative one, etc. It is a problem with multiple dimensions.

I believe rhetoric matters. I think this article makes some good points, particularly when he discusses Obama's habit of contradicting himself. But the fact that the last two Democratic presidents--both superb orators--have both struggled in precisely the same sorts of ways suggests that a pretty story, a misplaced nostalgia for the past, will not make our boo-boo better. 

The Bipolarity of Power in the Republican Party

As a number of previous posts indicate, I've been thinking a good deal about the Republican Party and its likely nominee in 2012. Most of the time, I focus on specific speeches or political developments. Lately, I've been trying to think through the big picture. In recent years, I believe, a bipolar order of power characterizes the Republican Party. What makes the upcoming election year less than predictable is that neither power center has thus far put forward its most logical candidate. It may be that they will or that one of the current candidates will unexpectedly fill one of these roles. But it hasn't happened yet and that's why the race has become so illogical and unpredictable.

The first major faction in the party traces its lineage to the immediate postwar period. For lack of a better term, let's call them Reagan Republicans. They believe. They've adopted the words of Richard Weaver as their slogan: "Ideas have Consequences." They believe the primary force influencing U.S. politics is the power of ideas. In their view, the Republicans have held a virtual monopoly on this power since the late 1950s. Historically, these Republicans have mobilized around politicians such as Barry Goldwater, Ronald Reagan, and Jack Kemp. They generally dominate conservative print media, such as the Wall Street Journal editorial page, National Review and Human Events, as well as some think tanks, such as the Heritage Foundation and direct mail efforts. At times, they have developed a close alliance with those disaffected liberals known as neo-conservatives, represented by The Weekly Standard, but that alliance is an uneasy and intermittent one. They like a small government, a strong defense, traditional standards of morality, and, occasionally, innovative conservative ideas for addressing "liberal" problems--enterprise zones to fight poverty, for instance, or school vouchers, or market solutions to pollution. 

The second major faction in the party traces its lineage to the Nixon campaigns for president. For lack of a better term, let's call them Bush Republicans. They believe in power, business, and the business of power. They believe the primary force influencing U.S. politics is money, often manifested by control of the news cycle and media agenda. Historically, these Republicans have mobilized around politicians such as Richard Nixon and the two Bushes (H.W. was chair of the RNC during Watergate). Perhaps more important, however, they live through a "family" of consultants and media personalities stretching back to Nixon's 1968 campaign: Roger Ailes, Lee Atwater, Mary Matalin, Karl Rove, and more. These operatives can generally raise a vast amount of cash. They dominate television, particularly Fox News, their factional organ. They are primarily interested in winning and holding power, which allows them to do favors for friends and indulge in crony capitalism. They are willing to bend their ideas to achieve political power--witness the "evolution" of H. W. Bush. They adopt ideas partly because they like them, but mostly for their political impact. School vouchers are a good idea, they feel, but more significant is the fact they'll destroy public teachers' unions, a key constituency for the Democratic Party. The political effect of policy matters more than policy.

Over time, this faction has come to carry more weight in the party, but in no sense is there complete dominance. The Reagan Republicans often have, at minimum, veto power.

Unfortunately or fortunately for Republicans, the two men who most clearly represent these two power centers are Paul Ryan and Jeb Bush. For the past several years, Paul Ryan has been the "idea man" of the Republican Party. That image has captivated the national media, despite considerable evidence that his numbers never add up. Meanwhile, as Kevin Phillips and some conservatives have lamented, the Bush family has come to dominate the other pole of the Republican party, much as Kennedy=liberal for some considerable time in the Democratic Party, and Jeb is the most obvious representative for this faction.

I believe, then, that part of the reason most have had such difficulty predicting a winner--or even a favorite--is the fact that the current field simply doesn't represent the major centers of power. For instance, the Bush faction has not tipped its hand--no rush of fundraisers, no movement of consultants, no tip of the hat from Roger Ailes, no name dropping from Mary Matalin, just a bland acknowledgement of the "fine qualities" of all. Meanwhile, the ideological Republicans have fallen positively in love with Paul Ryan; a neo-con, former VP Cheney, "worships" the ground he walks on. That ground, at least so far, is not leading to a presidential campaign.

In terms of the current field, Mitt Romney is desperately trying to win the endorsement of the Bush faction. He has consistently indicated his willingness to pay any price, bear any burden, abandon any principle that will lead to the survival and success of his candidacy. You name it; he'll become it. Tim Pawlenty is trying to become the Paul Ryan of the presidential race; that seems a tall order for an oft-confused goofball.

This is why there's such room to run for outliers like Ron Paul, Michelle Bachman, Newt Gingrich, and Herman Cain. In normal years--think 1988 or 2000--the power and money of the Bushies would squash them like a bug and, once John McCain handed over his backbone, that happened the last time around as well. But something about Mitt (health care?) and Tim (too little blood lust?) puts them off. I don't know how this'll end up, but I'd bet that, if Jeb Bush jumped in, it'd be over in an instant.

T-Paw Enters the Race

Former Minnesota Governor Tim Pawlenty announced his candidacy for the presidency this week. It's a bland speech that generally follows the generic rules for a challenger: Announce your candidacy, indict the status quo, establish yourself as the fresh alternative, embody that alternative in your life's story, and close with a bad rendition of "I Have a Dream." But three choices are worthy of note.

First, Pawlenty defines himself as the truth-teller in this race--he'll tell the nation the hard truth about tough choices. To say the least, this is not a new persona in presidential campaigns. In the postwar period alone, Adlai Stevenson called on his party to "tell the truth to the American people" in his 1952 presidential nomination acceptance address and a long line of generally Democratic Party candidates has followed in this tradition. In recent years, they've included figures such as Jimmy Carter ("I will never tell a lie"), John Anderson, Bruce Babbit, Paul Tsongas, and others. Judging from the success enjoyed by these candidates, the American people don't much like the truth.

Equally important, perhaps, it's the common solution to a recurrent problem: Like all of the above candidates, Pawlenty worries about his reputation as a wimp. In a party that reveres hard, manly men chopping brush on ranches or blasting buckshot into their friends' faces, much less even tougher manly women shooting animals in Alaska, T-Paw, well, offers his paw. He has the same problem as the Cubs logo--a nice, friendly lil bear. Hi. I'm a bear. Hug me. So, like H. W. Bush, T-Paw wants to talk tough. I suspect he'll soon declare his love for pork rinds; he's already tried out a southern accent. The gender politics of the Republican Party do not work well for T-Paw.

Second, in a manner akin to Carter in 1976, Pawlenty opens himself to charges of hypocrisy. There's nothing the media likes better than such a challenge. So, when T-Paw declares that he will tell the truth, they immediately begin digging for the numerous "misstatements" he makes in the announcement in which he claims he will tell the truth. Oh my. It's a bit like the challenge offered by Gary Hart in 1988--I don't fool around on my wife, he said. Follow me, he said. That'll show you. It did.   

Finally, I suspect Pawlenty has adopted the "truth" strategy for two reasons. Initially, he's probably already anticipating that he'll have to endorse some form of the deeply unpopular Ryan budget; it's become GOP orthodoxy. So, he's trying to frame that disaster as a test of character; real men, real politicians cut entitlement programs. It's not a question of policy, of prudence: does this budget work and, if so, how? Rather, it's a question of character, of credibility: are you willing to stand up and be counted? The chattering class in Washington thinks this way, so he's probably hoping to get away with a pretty disastrous policy choice and, by framing the issue as character, he again reaffirms his manliness.

In addition, he clearly believes that his only real opponent will be Mitt Romney. T-Paw has chosen a theme that appears positive ("I'll tell the truth") but is negative at its very core. It's designed to contrast to Romney, the liberal Massachusetts flip-flopper. Every time Pawlenty says he'll make the hard choices, he implies that Romney never will. The theme plugs into popular perceptions of Mitt and thus becomes a negative attack without ever saying much in the way of negative words. Of course, it doesn't work against anybody but Mitt--and that may be an issue if Sarah Palin decides to enter the race.

It's not a particularly impressive announcement but, in light of the current field, Pawlenty may well be right in his assessment of a two man race. If so, his attack on Romney's character could be just the political insurance T-Paw needs. A mandate, if you will.

The Republican Field/The Republican Rhetoric

I'm befuddled. I don't often feel that way about political developments (as opposed to automobile repair or home improvement), but I simply do not understand the shape of the Republican primary field. With recent announcements (Pawlenty) and withdrawals (Barbour, Huckabee,Trump, and Daniels), the "frontrunning," respectable candidates as anointed by the media this morning appear to be former Governors Mitt Romney, Tim Pawlenty, and Jon Huntsman. The first was, in effect, a moderate Democratic Governor of Massachusetts, the second was the incompetent and charisma-challenged Governor of Minnesota, and the third was the devil's (Obama) ambassador to the 2nd ring of Communist-inspired hell (China). In 2008, would I have ever voted for a Democratic candidate who served in Bush's Administration? No. No, I would not and I cannot believe Republicans will act any differently.

I'm shocked at what's missing. In the past several decades, the Republican Party has rooted itself in the south, denounced government, extolled Christian fundamentalist values, and, after Bush II, became increasingly dubious about those beyond our borders, not to mention those trying to cross our borders. None of these three candidates meet any of those standards; all would probably have to waste a VP slot on a person (Barbour? Rubio?) who could shore up their geographic home and 2 of the 3 are Mormon, a disquieting fact for at least a good third of the base. What then could happen? Let me offer a rhetorical forecast, one admittedly based not on current polling, etc., but rather based on three constitutive elements of the Republican rhetoric. Let's be clear: I don't know who will win the nomination, but I have a sense of the sort of candidate who will win the hearts of the party faithful.

1) The Republican Party hates government: Notice that I did not write "big" government. The strong, seemingly fringe, emphasis in recent years on the 10th amendment, on "federalism" as "right-thinking" conservatives understand it, on state's rights, much less the multiple discourses of business leaders objecting to financial regulation, NRA activists touting all manner of pro-gun laws, and Tea Party activists screaming about taxes marks a noticeable shift in conservative discourse. It's not enough to argue, as former governors do--as Reagan did--that one knows how to run a smaller, smarter, better government. One must strangle government.

2) Except when it comes to "appropriate" social norms: A few months ago, Governor Mitch Daniels proposed a "truce" on social issues so that leaders could concentrate on fiscal responsibility. The howls of outrage across Republican circles were so loud that Daniels quickly signed into law legislation that revoked state Medicare contracts with Planned Parenthood, thus relieving thousands of poor women of their primary health care provider. No matter. Planned Parenthood also provides abortion services. So much for the truce. In fact, the new Republican House majority has spent an inordinate amount of time on such issues since January. None of the "frontrunners" can be characterized as a cultural warrior. In fact, Pawlenty cannot be characterized as a warrior of any sort.

3) And also the policing of our borders and the distrust of aliens, both those willing to stay home and those trying to come here and those inhabiting the greater Milky Way: In all seriousness, the Republican base has become increasingly insular or, to borrow a term from Walter Russell Mead, increasingly Jacksonian. They don't want to think much about foreign nations, they don't much trust them, they don't much want to trade with them (a fault line between the Tea Party base and the elites), and will only stomp them flat when US interests are directly and clearly threatened. I suspect, but cannot prove (although my own Congressman is a good example), that a sort of Buchananite disgust with those beyond our borders is the result of Bush II's administration. The US has spent better than a decade giving the lives of our boys and those people still can't get their act together, or so goes the argument. To hell with them.

So, is this the whole of the Republican party? No. There is a huge chunk, perhaps even a small majority, who would not sign onto any of these statements and more yet who would not endorse one or another. But this is by far the most active, the most alive segment of the party, just as the McGovern Left was the most energized part of the Democratic Party in 1972. They'll want a candidate. There is an opening for a candidate who can clearly articulate these premises, who doesn't look or act like the three white guys, who hasn't been tainted with the messy fact of public administration, who can live off the land, off the church network, off internet fundraising, and who draws media attention like moths to a flame, thus multiplying the oomph of scarce campaign dollars. Hello, Representative Bachmann.