From: pierce@lanai.cs.ucla.edu (Brad Pierce)
Subject: Re: Bankruptcy 1995 (part 1)
Organization: UCLA, Computer Science Department
Date: Mon, 16 Nov 92 05:36:00 GMT

[Reprinted *without* permission from the Los Angeles Times Opinion
Section, Sunday, November 1, 1992, pp. M1,M8.]

Political Pandering: A Time-Honored Tradition in the All-American Way

By Guy Molyneux

[Guy Molyneux is president of the Next America Foundation, an
educational organization founded by Michael Harrington.]

A new orthodoxy has emerged in recent years among the nation's
chattering classes. One hears it from the press, policy experts, even
leaders of both political parties. It has attained the status of
conventional wisdom. It tells a story, if you will, of the nation's
current predicament.

The story goes like this: Americans have lived beyond their means,
consuming too much. We have avoided the tough choices, running up a
huge national debt. We must now tighten our belts and sacrifice to get
the nation back on track.

Standing in the way of this virtuous path are politicians, who pander
to voters' self-interest instead of making these tough decisions.
George Bush and Bill Clinton are shining examples, crisscrossing the
country promising whatever they think will get votes. If only leaders
would do what is right, instead of what people want, all would be
well.

It's become a familiar tale, this New Elitism. Its moral
high-mindedness makes it seductively persuasive. But in reality, it is
nothing more than a particular - and highly questionable - economic
analysis masquerading as objective truth. Still worse is the notion
that we suffer a crisis of too much, rather than too little, public
accountability. At a time when the nation desperately needs a
reinvigorated political life, our leaders betray a profound contempt
for democracy itself.

This story is fundamentally a morality play. Its lesson concerns the
dangers of "pandering" - defined as a shrewd vote-getting tactic,
wherein a politician takes a position thought to be shared by average
people. This ostensibly reflects said politician's deep cynicism. A
corrupt cycle is set in motion, as officials shamelessly seek to
improve people's lives in hope of gaining reelection.

Pandering is a uniquely political notion. Companies, for example, do
not "pander" when they offer a product people want. That's good
business. But while people are presumed competent to choose blue jeans
or automobiles, they apparently can't be trusted to choose the public
policies that shape their future.

The true villains are thus the voters. It is a story of virtuous - if
occasionally weak - elites, and selfish masses - the "pandees." To the
New Elitism, this means such people as union members, women, the
elderly and veterans - the dreaded "special interests" who feast
greedily at the public trough.

This represents a truly Orwellian inversion of political language. Once
upon a time, "special interests" referred to powerful economic forces,
such as large corporations and trade associations. Now, the agenda of
such groups - such as the capital-gains tax cut - is thought to be
synonymous with the "public interest." In the perverse lexicography of
the New Elitism, it is millions of votes, not dollars, that denotes a
special interest.

The New Elitism distorts history as well as language.  Consider some
famous historical panders: the eight-hour day, rural electrification,
the national park system, urban mass transit, Medicare and most of the
nation's infrastructure.  It is no exaggeration to say that pandering
lay behind most of our great public improvements. Without it, ordinary
people wouldn't get anything of value from government.  Economic
elites, on the other hand, will always get their share.

The antonym for "pandering" in the New Elite dictionary is "political
leadership." This can only be demonstrated by embracing widely
unpopular positions. A model of this leadership style is Paul "I'm No
Santa Claus" Tsongas, a kind of high priest for the New Elitism. During
his presidential run, Tsongas routinely faulted other candidates for
saying "what people want to hear, instead of what they need to hear."

Well, Tsongas certainly didn't do the former. Although it is now
commonplace to talk of his strong showing, Tsongas was badly crushed in
Democratic primaries outside New England.  What support he did get came
from affluent, well-educated voters. His trouncing confirmed the
elite's contempt for the voters, and reaffirmed their own moral
superiority. Having followers is no longer required for leadership - in
fact, it's a disqualification!

In this upside-down view, popularity and correctness are not simply
unrelated attributes - already a rather striking challenge to
democratic theory. They are actually polar opposites. Good policy will
be unpopular, by definition.

This stands the entire theory of representative democracy on its head.
We surrender tremendous power to politicians only because they
periodically have to solicit our support. It is that incentive system
that, however crudely, eventually translates our preferences into real
policies. Why else would we trust officials to pursue our interests?
Without pandering, we have no democracy.

And just what is the program that voters are rejecting? The favored
phrase is "tough choices," like these recently suggested by the New
York Times: "The only way out is for most people to pay higher taxes,
for popular government programs to be cut and for medical care to be
rationed." Lower wages and further loss of manufacturing jobs are often
prescribed as well. Tough choices - and its folksier cousin
"belt-tightening" - are really polite ways to say austerity.  Echoing
the best and brightest of another era, today's elite aims to save
America's standard of living by destroying it.

In fact, pain is not merely an unfortunate byproduct, it is the mark of
good policy. Clinton and Bush are criticized for offering only
"painless, inadequate" solutions - painless and inadequate being
synonymous in the new discourse. No pain, no gain. While America's
chattering classes have become ecumenical in recent years, admitting
many non-WASPs, a Protestant sensibility apparently must still be
absorbed before entry is allowed. The New Elitists always have one
question: Have we stopped having fun yet?

Behind this call for pain is an assumption about the past decade: It
has been one of indulgence. To the fortunate top 20%, the decade was
indeed kind. But for most of America, it has been a time of stagnant
incomes. Profits have risen, but not wages. The Dow Jones is up, but
leisure time is down.  Taxes on the wealthy have shrunk, but actually
rose for average income earners.

In fact, for 20 years the standard of living for large segments of
American society have stayed flat or declined.  When the elite say, "We
have lived too well," most Americans respond as modern-day Tontos:
"What you mean 'we,' rich man?" Their belts are plenty tight.

This disparity explains the public's skepticism regarding frequent
elite calls for "shared sacrifice." It hasn't been shared so far, so
why now? Looking at the agenda of the new consensus, this doubt appears
merited. It calls for higher taxes on "consumption," lower taxes on
"investment." Left unmentioned is that there's no way to do this
without exacerbating the nation's growing income inequality.

We also don't hear much about raising inheritance taxes, an obvious
deficit-reduction step targeted at a group that can afford to
sacrifice: the dead rich. Perhaps that's because the chattering classes
- many of them baby boomers or a little older - are about to be on the
receiving end of the greatest wealth transfer in the world's history.
As their parents die, they stand to collectively inherit $4 trillion.
Taxing gasoline or beer is courageous political leadership, but try to
take a chunk of Daddy's estate and you're a demagogue. How shared is
this sacrifice?

In fact, most American families make tough choices all the time. Some
are small: Will they see a movie or eat dinner out - they can't afford
both. Some are large: Can Mom afford to stay home with the new baby?
For those who don't face such choices, to suggest that they alone are
fit to make the hard decisions is chutzpah of awe-inspiring
proportions.

You would think a leadership class that has presided over two decades
of economic stagnation might rethink its ideas.  But they offer the
same old stuff: deregulation, incentives for "capital formation," more
reductions in living standards. And you would think leaders who have
consistently failed to see emerging problems - rising income
inequality, the savings-and-loan fiasco - might show some humility. But
they seem more concerned with blaming the public than engaging in the
reassessment their failures warrant.

Americans are not rejecting the idea of making choices, or even of
sacrifice. They are rejecting the "false choices" offered by their
leaders. They are asked to pay more for rationed health care - yet
Americans already pay more for less inclusive health care coverage than
any other industrialized nation. They are told to accept lower wages
and short-term job loss for the good of the economy - though this same
strategy has been in place for nearly two decades, to little avail.

The question today is not when will the public awaken to the real
problems, but when will the leaders start the "tough" job of fashioning
better choices. Voters are demanding universal health care at
reasonable prices. They are asking for more efficient delivery of
government services. They are looking beyond symptoms like the deficit,
to core issues like improving education and rebuilding the
manufacturing base. And they seem prepared to politically reward anyone
who can offer those things.

Let those up to the task step forward, and let democracy work. And may
the best panderers win.

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