A Single Issue Candidate?

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by Jason Stanley

On February 11th, in the democratic debate between Hillary Clinton and Bernie Sanders in Milwaukee, Clinton introduced a new criticism of Sanders that has since become one of her campaign’s central themes. Sanders is a single issue candidate, focusing on the problems caused by Wall Street, big financial interests, insurance companies and other wealthy and powerful business interests to the exclusion of other, equally important and structurally central issues.

There are, refreshingly, legitimate philosophical disagreements at issue in the democratic primary. However, I will present strong reasons to reject Clinton’s position. The Sanders’s campaign addresses significant issues that speak to a large, diverse, and important number of social and political ills, made worse by the lack of significant campaign finance reform. Most importantly, Clinton’s campaign strategy and arguments for it give us reason to suspect that they are problematically influenced in a way that strengthens, rather than minimizes, Sanders’s concerns.

Bernie Sanders could not be more explicit about his central political concern. It is wealth and income inequality. On his website, it is the first issue listed. It is described as “the great moral issue of our time…the great economic issue of our time, and…the great political issue of our time.” His view about how to tackle the problem is also clear. We must “take on the enormous economic and political power of the billionaire class.” This is a stark contrast with Hillary Clinton. In a recent article, Thomas Frank writes, “income inequality has little role in the grand sweep of her political career.”

Clinton introduced the charge that Sanders is a “single issue candidate” in Milwaukee:

Yes, does Wall Street and big financial interests, along with drug companies, insurance companies, big oil, all of it, have too much influence? You’re right. But if we were to stop that tomorrow, we would still have the indifference, the negligence that we saw in Flint. We would still have racism holding people back. We would still have sexism preventing women from getting equal pay. We would still have LGBT people who get married on Saturday and get fired on Monday. And we would still have governors like Scott Walker and others trying to rip out the heart of the middle class by making it impossible to organize and stand up for better wages and working conditions.

Clinton here blames the crisis in Flint on “negligence”, which is a failure of individual responsibility (presumably, the governor’s). The “racism holding people back” has nothing to do with “Wall Street and big financial interests, along with drug companies, insurance companies.” These are notions of racism, sexism, and homophobia detached from oppressive economic structures.

One model of racism, sexism, and homophobia treats them as problematic attitudes that individuals have. Clinton attributes Governor Scott Walker’s assault on the labor movement to his lack of empathy, also a problematic individual attitude. I begin by responding to Clinton’s arguments, using this individualist interpretation of Clinton’s examples.

Clinton is fair to describe Sanders’s mission in terms of a battle against the excessive influence of “Wall Street and big financial interests, along with drug companies, insurance companies, big oil”. Clinton clearly thinks this is not serious enough to be the basis of a presidential campaign. Her campaign strategy is to minimize the problems these institutions pose to our social and political system.

Many of us agree that racism, sexism, homophobia, Flint, and Scott Walker are serious problems. Clinton presents them as clearly outside the scope of Sanders’s single issue, the “excessive influence” of the billionaire class and the institutions they control. Instead, she attributes these problems to individual failings. Let’s take the problem of racism as a test case of this view. Is the problem of racism mainly or centrally a problem of individual racist attitudes? Or is racism substantially interrelated with the practices and institutions Sanders targets?

In “The Case for Reparations”, Ta-Nehisi Coates builds a case for reparations for Black Americans. One of his central examples of a historical racist harm reparations should address is the 20-1 wealth gap between white and Black Americans. Is the wealth gap mainly a problem of individual attitudes?

Coates argues that a central mechanism in the maintenance of the wealth gap is homeownership. At the heart of his analysis are the structural practices of mortgage lending at the intersection of government housing policy, banks, and other lending institutions. His argument for reparations culminates in an account of the predatory lending practices of financial institutions during the recent subprime mortgage crisis, which as have been well-documented, reinforced and increased the racial wealth gap. In short, he argues that in explaining a chief racial harm, the 20-1 wealth gap, one must appeal to the structural practices of the apparatus of mortgage lending, practices at the heart of the financial industry.

The practices of finance are mainly guided by the view that pure profit seeking is in the public good. The poor have no choice but to accept high interest rates. So when such practices are applied to a group that has been historically disenfranchised, their effect is to support and maintain that disenfranchisement. These are essential mechanisms in the support and maintenance of the racial wealth gap. After a certain point, the mechanism can even be self-sustaining. After all, even if everyone working in those institutions suddenly adopted antiracist views, practices that already target poor populations would not substantially change.

I have represented Clinton’s argument with the use of individualist notions of racism and sexism. But the argument cannot be saved by appeal instead to structural ones. There is no notion of structural racism that is entirely devoid of economic oppression of the sort Coates discusses (mutatis mutandis for the structural effects on race of the health industry and the energy industry). Similar points can be made about structural sexism.

Clinton has spoken movingly and incisively about structural sexism. But in this campaign, Clinton has repeatedly represented calls for significant structural reform as juvenile or pointless. This suggests an ideology that minimizes the effects of structural oppression. Clinton tends to propose policies that support the ideal of enhanced individual opportunity. The rhetoric of individual opportunity suggests a picture of social and political reality as consisting simply of array of individual citizens. It supports general enhancement of opportunities as a natural policy goal. But this is dangerous political illusion.

Suppose one group fails to benefit from a policy intended to benefit all. A picture of political reality that omits structural barriers to a group will leave its members as the only visible source of fault for policy failures. When a policy fails because of the structural barriers the group faces, its failure will instead be attributed to character flaws of members of that group. A correct picture of social and political reality must include not just individuals but also the significant structural barriers between them.

Sanders’s agenda in running for President is to reform institutions and practices responsible for the maintenance of structural barriers between groups, with the structural barriers erected by wealth and income inequality as his focus. He emphasizes “the billionaire class”, by which he means those who control and direct streams of capital, out of suspicion that their practices bear outsized responsibility for maintaining unjust social and economic distinctions. The individuals and institutions provide mechanisms through which historical structural injustices become self-reinforcing. I have used Coates’s explanation of how mortgage and lending practices are mechanisms in the maintenance of the racial wealth gap to illustrate Sanders’s point. In our society, much structural injustice runs through the mechanisms that control flows of money. They are far from the only mechanisms supporting the diversity of kinds of structural injustice, but given our economic system, they are the ones that have the widest application.

Why did Hillary Clinton choose the general campaign of minimizing concern for the causes of wealth inequality? Why not instead coopt the Sanders agenda, combining it with her indisputable policy expertise, experience, and brilliance? This would show respect for Sanders’s concerns, while making a powerful case that she is the best candidate to address them. It’s implausible to attribute this campaign strategy to a decision about electoral strategy; indeed her campaign strategy has widely been taken as the cause of Sanders’s shocking upset in Michigan. As a short-term plan, her campaign strategy was unwise. This has not been addressed in recent discussions. It requires explanation.

Two examples Clinton prominently used of real problems that would not be addressed by Sanders’s concerns and reforms are crucial to discuss in explaining her choice of campaign strategy. These are the examples of Scott Walker’s policies, and the disaster in Flint, Michigan. Her choice of these two examples is concerning. On closer inspection, it supports Sanders’s views about the moral and political threat posed by “the billionaire class”.

Is the cause of Scott Walker’s anti-labor policies lack of empathy? Or is it rather that he is, in the words of a prominent national politician, just getting “his marching orders from the Koch brothers”? The Koch brothers are the nation’s premier financial supporters of politicians whose policies reinforce structural barriers due to wealth inequality. Their relationship to Scott Walker is one of the most salient examples of the “enormous economic and political power of the billionaire class”. And Hillary Clinton is undeniably aware of the duplicity involved in using this example; after all she is the “prominent national politician” quoted at the start of this paragraph.

Far more worrying, however, is Clinton’s use of the water disaster in Flint, Michigan as a problem that would be left completely unaddressed by Sanders’s “single issue” reformist agenda. Clinton attributes the cause of the crisis to a failure of individual responsibility. This is an egregious misrepresentation. There are two central causes of what occurred in Flint. One cause is Michigan’s Emergency Manager laws, which were used to replace democratically elected mayors with “emergency managers” who were then in complete control of financial decisions. Racism played a significant role here, as claims of emergency seemed to suspiciously correlate with majority Black cities. These “emergency managers” then made undemocratic decisions, which seemed to serve the “billionaire class” at the center of Sanders’s concerns, rather than the citizenry.

The second central cause of the disaster in Flint is the swap contract the banks engineered with Detroit Water and Sewerage Department (DWSD). DWSD had to pay $537 million simply for a swap contract termination fee. DWSD was forced to raise its fees drastically. Since Detroit sits on the world’s largest body of fresh water, it is quite obviously not because of a resource poor situation. It is because of a swap contract that was, to say the least, ethically deeply troubling.

The first nationally reported effect of these deeply problematic financial industry contracts was the widespread water terminations in Detroit. It was predictable then that there would be additional victims of the combination of undemocratically appointed “emergency managers” with financial industry practices of offering absurd swap contracts to “protect” municipalities and public utilities from drastically rising interest rates that never arrived. The general consensus is that the EM’s decision to switch Flint’s water source away from DWSD was to avoid high rates for water paid by customers of DWSD. If so, the cause of the Flint emergency is the disastrous swap contract that the banks negotiated with DWSD, i.e. a direct result of bank practices that Sanders’s campaign targets.

In recent weeks, newly uncovered emails have suggested an alternative motivation for the switch from DWSD to the Flint River. According to the Detroit Metro Times, the emails suggest the motivation for the switch was instead [Governor Rick] “Snyder’s desire to privatize and break up DWSD or maybe Snyder’s goal of opening up fracking opportunities around the new KWA pipeline.” After all, removing Flint, an important source of revenue for DWSD, obviously adds to the financial woes caused by its deal with the banks, and strengthens the claim to sell it into private hands.

This too squarely places the blame on the agendas of the “billionaire class”. DWSD is a public utility with access to the world’s greatest supply of fresh water, the Great Lakes. There are many wealthy and powerful interests who would wish to own such a unique resource and use it for profit, and its debt is used in the argument to privatize it. The entire story about Flint is one about the “billionaire class” jockeying for money and power; the only question is which exact interests are the cause. None of it involves “negligence”. Quite the contrary, it involves careful strategic planning.

Why has Clinton’s campaign strategy taken the form of minimizing the problem of wealth inequality? To deepen the mystery, why use examples that underscore the importance of the issues at the heart of Sanders’s campaign, in an effort to minimize them? What follows, of necessity, involves speculation about motivations.

The water crisis in Flint has attracted international attention. A shady financial industry deal with a public water utility is generally agreed be its cause (a point oddly absent from the national press narrative). The situation raises serious concerns for the financial industry. Flint is an obvious example to use to build public pressure for a general reformist agenda that would address the problem of shady municipal loans. Perhaps the whole practice of such contracts with public utilities and municipalities might be drastically reformed, well beyond what already has occurred in Dodd-Frank.

The second concern is that Flint could be employed to extract a record settlement as well as lawsuits against the banks (conservative estimates of costs of repairing the water system start at 1.5 billion). JP Morgan Chase offered a swap contract to the public water and sewer utility in Jefferson County, Alabama, which almost led to the country’s largest municipal bankruptcy. The SEC leveled a 722 million dollar fine against JP Morgan Chase for overcharging on swaps. The state of Michigan is Jefferson County writ large.

As Wallace Turbeville documents in an important 2013 piece in Demos, the “risky financial deals” Wall Street sold to Detroit in 2005 and 2006 play a large role in its financial problems. DWSD’s rate hike due to a problematic swap contract led to the water crisis in Detroit last year. The water crisis in Flint is also directly connected to the debts DWSD incurred from this Wall Street contract (even the argument for privatizing DWSD is based on its thus incurred debt). At some point, even the national media might recognize that there is a stream of problems in Michigan connected to water. It is but a short step to trace them to the public utility supplying it, and to recognize that its problems are due to an ethically dubious swap contract arranged by Wall Street. A good deal of the work of Snyder’s “emergency managers” has been to obscure and prevent such an outcome, by directing the blame elsewhere (e.g. pensions), and keep revenue streams flowing to the banks. But if the national media were somehow (miraculously) to draw the connections, there could be strong public pressure for settlements and lawsuits of historic proportions.

The above facts raise the possibility that Clinton disconnected the crisis in Flint from its actual causes in a highly prominent television moment as part of an agenda to protect the interests of Wall Street.

Hillary Clinton has received 2.9 million dollars in speaking fees from speeches to financial institutions between 2013 and 2015. She has many other connections, and is the recipient of much campaign support from them. These facts lead her to be less critical about these institutions and their practices, to minimize their harms, including the influence of their lobbying on politicians. And isn’t that exactly the problem Sanders’s reformist agenda seeks to address?

“The billionaire class” directs vast flows of cash at our politicians. We have seen strong evidence that is has influenced Clinton’s recent rhetorical strategy, whose purpose after all is to minimize concerns about the influence of “the billionaire class”. The very campaign strategy she has taken is in fact its own best self-refutation.

Stanley jacketJason Stanley is the Jacob Urowsky Professor of Philosophy at Yale University. Most recently, he is the author of How Propaganda Works. Read more on his website, here.

Paula S. Fass: Young Americans need required national service

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Hillary Clinton has advertised her concerns for children and has a long track record of supporting policies on their behalf, and almost all Democratic candidates as well as President Obama have urged that college be made more affordable. But no candidate has addressed a critical question: What do young Americans between 18 and 21 need? Indeed, the absence of the problems of youth from the campaign is notable. But youth’s increasing frustration with business as usual has emerged in this long campaign season in a variety of ways, not least in their unhappiness with establishment candidates. Candidates who are even semi-conscious of the problems faced by America’s youth have all put their emphasis on more schooling (President Obama), free tuition at public colleges (Bernie Sanders) or more generous Pell Grants (Hillary Clinton). I want to propose that this presidential election cycle is missing the point and seriously out of touch with the problems of youth.

Schooling is not the solution and while the current proposals may create slightly more opportunity, it is still the same game – a schooling game that is in many ways the basis of the problem. Most young people today see schooling as rigged; something to be manipulated by them or against them; something that often leads nowhere. Schooling goes on forever and makes them dependent on their parents for a long time. It does not necessarily lead to jobs they value.

Young people – let’s call them young adults—are eager for meaning, for something to help define them as mature. They are eager for work. Yes, work. Only in the last one hundred years have we assumed that work is bad for young people. And certainly for seven or eight year olds or even fourteen year olds, to work in factories or sweat shops is very bad. But work that brings a sense of personal reward, camaraderie, and a means to cut through what many young people see as the boredom of school-based abstraction, is just what most American young people need.

Of course, it has to be the right kind of work that will result in more equality, not less, the kind that gives its participants a sense of genuine achievement. So I am proposing that our presidential candidates consider two years of required national service for all young Americans between 18 and 21 years of age. Some of these youth will elect to go into the armed forces, some could help to preserve and enrich the natural environment (as they did during the New Deal); others could serve as tutors in schools and community centers. Some might even feel that their time and energy might best be served by building houses for the poor or good water pipes in communities whose infrastructure is crumbling (think Flint). Others could help old people learn how to use the web. We know that we as a society need these services. I would argue that young Americans would be given a sense of maturity and competence by providing them. Instead of sending high school students out to do community service to pad their resumes, or juvenile prisoners out to clean the highways, let’s give young people a sense of common purpose.

This service should, of course, be paid. Young people like to earn money and this would provide them with a means to gain a certain measure of independence from their parents. They could then use the money to pay for tuition, invest in a business, save for a down payment on a house or apartment – all things that will give them independence. But the monetary benefit is only one of its many results. Young people would meet others from very different class, racial and ethnic backgrounds. National service would help to level the field (away from advantages provided by parents) and make the young much more aware of what they share with those who are not privileged. This was one of the objectives behind the development of common schools. Today’s young inherit too much from their parents – both advantages and disadvantages. National service would serve as a leveler of parental advantages and a liberator from dependence on parents.

There is another type of equality that national service would provide too often overlooked: It would allow non-academically inclined students to shine in ways that today’s emphasis on schooled skills has completely obscured. Many young people have real talents though they are not good at sitting still. No amount of Ritalin can deal with the differences of temperament and inclination that are common to youth. Active work in which building a house is seen as quite as valuable as tutoring math or writing would allow for talents of all kinds to be acknowledged as a social good, and rewarded at a point in life when this can be an extraordinary boost to personal growth.

I know that many people will contend that there are all kinds of obstacles to this plan, but I think it is so important to address the many serious problems of today’s young people – some of them the result of the way we have organized schooling—that these can be overcome with enough imagination and skill. National service will benefit young people, our society, and our future.

FassPaula S. Fass is professor of the Graduate School and the Margaret Byrne Professor of History Emerita at the University of California, Berkeley. The author of Kidnapped and Children of a New World, she recently edited The Routledge History of Childhood in the Western World. Her most recent book is The End of American Childhood: A History of Parenting from Life on the Frontier to the Managed Child. Fass lives in Berkeley, California.

Jonathan Zimmerman: Hillary Clinton and the Perils of Authenticity

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Bernie Sanders thumped Hillary Clinton in the New Hampshire Democratic primary, winning almost 60 percent of the vote. But among voters who said that the candidate quality mattering most to them was “honest and trustworthy,” Sanders took an astounding 91 percent of the vote.

What’s up with that? Clinton critics will point to her long record of secrecy and dissembling, from Whitewater right up to the recent email-server scandal. But I’d like to suggest a different explanation: Clinton’s own generation made personal honesty and authenticity into a sine qua non for politics itself. And now it’s coming around to haunt Clinton, especially among voters in the generations after hers.

To get a sense of this, have a look at the 1969 commencement address by Wellesley College’s first-ever elected class speaker: Hillary Diane Rodham, later to become Hillary Rodham Clinton. Rodham had been preceded at the podium by Massachusetts Senator Edward Brooke, who denounced “coercive protest” on college campuses. He also chided student demonstrators as a “curious hodgepodge” of radical elements, “irrelevant . . . to the realities of American society in our time.”

Nonsense, Rodham replied. Campus protest actually contained a strong “conservative strain,” which called the country back to its “old virtues”—especially, the student said, the ideal of “human liberation.” By protesting America’s deviations from that goal, both at home and abroad, student protesters had revived—not rejected—the nation’s founding principles. And they had even set an example for the rest of the globe, which was likewise struggling to implement the universal ideals at the heart of the American dream. “It’s such a great adventure,” she said. “If the experiment in human living doesn’t work in this country, in this age, it’s not going to work anywhere.”

At first, Rodham’s speech seems to highlight the differences between her generation of campus activists and our own. Rodham doesn’t flinch from criticizing America (or from calling out a patronizing U.S. Senator!), but her remarks communicate a sense of national possibility—even, of national greatness—that’s often missing from today’s college conversations. What drew people to Rodham then—and, I think, now—is her unwavering optimism, her cheerful insistence that Americans could build a better country and a better world.

But there’s also a part of her speech that’s concerned with individual identity and especially “authentic reality,” as she called it, not just political power and social justice. To Rodham, it isn’t enough to bring down the poverty rate or to help more minorities go to colleges like Wellesley, two goals she mentioned in her speech. Americans needed to develop a whole new way of being, she said, rooted not in greed and accumulation but in honesty, trust, and respect. “Our prevailing, acquisitive, and competitive corporate life, including tragically the university, is not the way of life for us,” Rodham explained. “We’re searching for more immediate, ecstatic, and penetrating modes of living.”

That raised the stakes considerably, because you needed to be good rather than simply act good. And, ironically, it has also become a stake in the heart of Hillary Rodham Clinton. Polls show that even people who share her politics often don’t believe in her. They think she’s a poser, a fake, a phony. She isn’t what she seems..

With Sanders, of course, it’s the opposite. Whether they agree with him or not, almost everyone thinks Sanders is real. Bernie is gruff, Bernie is rumpled, Bernie is plain-spoken. You might not like what he says, but you don’t doubt that he means it.

Sanders was a product of the student Left, too, but he came of age a few years before Hillary Rodham did. And timing is everything in these things. In the early 1960s, when Sanders was staging sit-ins against segregation, there was less overall concern with questions of individual authenticity. The most urgent task was to fight social injustice, not to find new forms of interpersonal communication and connection.

But the late 1960s had a different spirit. If you look again at her speech, you’ll see that Hillary Rodham was in some ways more radical than Bernie Sanders was. She urges us to fight injustice, too, but she doesn’t stop there. She imagines a society with more honest and meaningful human relationships, not just with a more equitable distribution of resources.

But it’s hard to create a stable or meaningful politics on those terms. How do you know what’s really going on inside of someone else? The quest for authenticity in some ways harkens all the way back to the Puritans, who said that political leadership should be reserved for people who had cleansed their souls. And their own society became unglued (see: Salem Witch Trials) when nobody could figure out—for sure—who was truly holy, and who wasn’t.

You can hear a similarly Puritan tone in some of the recent campus protests, which likewise insisted that our universities purge themselves of sin—mainly, the sin of racism. In “listening sessions” and other events, stone-faced administrators proclaimed their commitment to “diversity,” “inclusion,” and so on. But many protesters demurred. Their leaders were empty suits, students said, mouthing platitudes and homilies to placate the crowd. They weren’t real.

Hillary-haters who read her Wellesley speech will probably focus on her comments about acquisitiveness and corporate greed, and then say something snarky about her Wall Street speaker fees. But I think they’re missing the main point here. The reason we’re arguing about who Hillary Rodham Clinton “really” is has nothing to do with her politics, as we used to understand that term. It’s because her own generation made authenticity the measure of all things. And we still haven’t figured out a way to measure it.

zimmerman jacketJonathan Zimmerman teaches education and history at New York University. He is the author of “Too Hot to Handle: A Global History of Sex Education,” which was published in 2015 by Princeton University Press.

Q&A with Kenneth Scheve and David Stasavage on Taxing the Rich

Taxing the RichWho to tax, how much to tax, and what the taxes should pay for are questions sure to elicit an array of responses in today’s politically charged climate. Kenneth Scheve and David Stasavage combine forces on this comprehensive history and reflection on how the rich have (or haven’t) been taxed. Taxing the Rich: A History of Fiscal Fairness in the United State and Europe tackles what is sure to be a hot election topic using an approach that manages to showcase both sides of the often contentious issue. Recently the authors took the time to answer some questions on their book.

Why did you write this book?

KS & DS: Taxing the rich is a subject of considerable political conflict today. There has been a great deal of debate about what government should do in this area, but we know far less about the reasons why some governments actually do tax the rich and others do not. We think answering this question requires a long run historical perspective, and one that doesn’t just look at developments in the United States. Our book considers income, inheritance, and other taxes from 1800 to the present in a set of twenty countries.

What’s your main argument?

KS & DS: Countries tax the rich when the public thinks the state has failed to treat citizens as equals and in so doing has privileged the rich. [a more colloquial version: Countries tax the rich when people think the deck is stacked in favor of the wealthy and the government has done the stacking.]

Debates about taxation revolve around self-interest (no one likes paying taxes), economic efficiency, and fairness. We argue that fairness considerations center on what it means for the state to treat citizens as equals in income tax policy. Historically, there are three main fairness arguments that have been used for or against taxing the rich. Equal Treatment arguments claim that everyone should be taxed at the same rate just like everyone has one vote. Ability to Pay arguments contend that states should tax the rich at higher rates because they can better afford to pay when compared with everyone else. Compensatory Arguments suggest that it is fair to tax the rich at higher rates when it compensates for unequal treatment by the state in some other policy area. We argue that over the last two centuries compensatory arguments have been the most powerful arguments in favor of taxing the rich.

What are examples of compensatory arguments in history?

KS & DS: Compensatory arguments were important in the early development of income tax systems in the 19th century when it was argued that income taxes on the rich were necessary to compensate for heavy indirect taxes that fell disproportionately on the poor and middle class. But the most significant compensatory arguments over the last two centuries have been arguments to raise taxes on the rich to preserve equal sacrifice in wars of mass mobilization. These conflicts, particularly World War I and World War II, led states to raise large armies, often through conscription, and citizens and politicians alike adopted compensatory fairness arguments to justify higher taxes on income and wealth. Mass war mobilization led governments of both left and right to tax the rich.

When have countries taxed the rich?

KS & DS: Well, one thing our book shows is that governments haven’t taxed the rich just because inequality is high, nor have they done this simply because the poor and middle class outnumber the rich when it comes to voting. The main occasion when governments have moved to tax the rich is during times of mass mobilization for war, especially in democracies in which the norm of treating citizens as equals is held more strongly. The real watershed for taxing the rich for many countries came in 1914. The era of the two world wars and their aftermath was one in which governments taxed the rich at rates that would have previously seemed unimaginable.

How do we know that the effect of wars was due to changes in fairness considerations?

KS & DS: We show in the book that when countries shift from peace to war, or the reverse, there has also been a big shift in the type of fairness arguments made in favor of taxing the rich. During times of peace debates about whether it is fair to tax the rich center on competing equal treatment and ability to pay arguments. During times of war supporters of taxing the rich have also been able to make Compensatory arguments. If the poor and middle class are doing the fighting, then the rich should be asked to pay more for the war effort. If some with wealth benefit from war profits, then this creates another compensatory argument for taxing the rich. These compensatory arguments had the biggest impact in democracies that are founded on the idea that citizens should be treated as equals. The fact that war had a much bigger impact on taxes on the rich in democracies than in autocracies also suggests that the rich weren’t being taxed out of simple necessity. It was because war determined what types of fairness arguments could be made.

What are the implications for future tax policies in the United States?

KS & DS: Don’t expect high and rising inequality to necessarily lead to a return to the high top tax rates of the post-war era. What really matters is what people believe about how inequality is generated in the first place. If it is clear that inequality has risen because the government failed to treat citizens as equals in the first place, then there is room for convincing compensatory arguments. Today, in an era where military technology favors more limited forms of warfare — drones rather than boots on the ground — the wartime compensatory arguments of old are no longer available. Absent new compensatory arguments, we expect some to argue for taxing the rich based on ability to pay, but this probably won’t suffice to produce radically higher tax rates. More politically plausible reforms include those that involve increasing taxes on the rich by appealing to the logic of equal treatment to remove deductions, exemptions, and cases of special treatment.

Kenneth Scheve is professor of political science and senior fellow at the Freeman Spogli Institute for International Studies at Stanford University. He is the coauthor of Globalization and the Perceptions of American Workers. David Stasavage is Julius Silver Professor in the Wilf Family Department of Politics at New York University. He is the author of States of Credit: Size, Power, and the Development of European Polities (Princeton). Together they wrote Taxing the Rich: A History of Fiscal Fairness in the United States and Europe.

Leah Wright Rigueur: Rand Paul’s failed appeal to black voters

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Racial Blunders and Disappointment Surround
Rand Paul

By Leah Wright Rigueur

Rand Paul was supposed to be different.

But now, with news of Paul suspending his struggling campaign in the face of disappointing Iowa caucus results, an uncomfortable question looms large: what happened?

There are many well-documented reasons for Paul’s political disappointments – namely Republican voters’ rejection of the Kentucky senator’s brand of libertarianism. But aside from his tea-party-ish approach to politics, Paul’s appeal was also supposed to be rooted in his two-year effort to broaden the Republican tent.

The “unconventional” Republican candidate, pundits and scholars alike touted Paul as the politician that would finally bring black voters into the GOP fold. African Americans, Paul often argued, were an integral part of his strategy to reach the White House. Since 2013, he has publicly courted black voters, using his policy positions on mass incarceration, criminal justice reform and the militarization of the police as entryways into broader conversations with black communities. He’s been outspoken about the Republican Party’s need to court racial minorities, criticizing the GOP’s repeated failure to speak and listen to black voters.

But “Big Tent” rhetoric is nothing new; calculated GOP strategists have been endorsing minority outreach since 1936, when Republicans first lost the black vote. Embracing this trend in 2013, the Republican National Committee’s autopsy report observed that the party had to perform better among racial minorities, or it risk losing future presidential elections. When pressed, most of the Republican presidential candidates will admit as much, even when their policies and talking points undermine their claims. As ridiculous as it may sound, Donald Trump’s campaign, for example, has declared that he intends to win “100% of the black vote.”

These are relatively superficial endeavors, however. In contrast, Paul has emerged as different for two reasons: first, his willingness to play the long game – he’s been actively pursuing the black vote for over two years. Second, he’s gone beyond shallow rhetoric by sponsoring actual policies like the REDEEM Act, which he co-introduced with New Jersey Senator Cory Booker. Paul’s work in this regard has drawn praise from a diverse cross-section of black communities, from grassroots activists to political elites. The NAACP, which once challenged Paul to a debate over his controversial comments over the 1964 Civil Rights Act, applauded Paul’s outreach efforts and met with him in Ferguson, Missouri in late 2014. Less than two months ago, Paul grabbed headlines for an on-the-ground meeting with black clergy, chief among them Rev. Jamal Bryant of Empowerment Temple AME in Baltimore. Paul, Bryant has repeatedly declared, is a politician that “gets it” (the other candidate to earn high praise from Bryant? Bernie Sanders).

And to some extent, black voters seem to be far more receptive to Paul than they once were. Take for instance, a spring 2014 poll from Kentucky: 29 percent of black respondents indicated that they would support Paul over Hillary Clinton if he were the Republican presidential nominee. But local politics – especially in one’s home state – is a far cry from the national stage where polls tell a very different story. One national survey from spring 2014 found that only 17 percent of black respondents viewed Paul favorably, while 44 percent held unfavorable views. More than a third had never heard of him. Another poll, this one from 2015, seemed to suggest that Paul would gain a mere 3 percent of the black vote if pitted against Hillary Clinton. Polls are notoriously fickle and there may be many reasons for this perplexing information. For one, few pollsters actually asked black voters about Paul; another explanation may be that black voters – like the rest of the country – simply couldn’t imagine Paul as president.

But I’m more convinced that Paul’s inability to translate outreach into tangible black support has to do with his actual programs and policies, beyond criminal justice reform. Among black voters who know of Paul, there’s an obvious wariness. Most of the black people who praise Paul’s outreach are also quick to list the areas where they disagree with him: abortion, gun control, vaccines, minimum wage, voter ID, taxes, healthcare, discrimination law, and much, much more. According to PEW, 78 percent of African Americans believe the federal government should play an active role in reducing poverty – a position directly at odds with Paul’s limited government approach. In this respect, Paul is not unlike his father, Ron Paul; in 1978, a black Republican consulting firm shied away from helping the elder Paul, privately railing that his “positions on the welfare system, minimum wage, and health care were too far to the right to offer the type of sensitivity Black voters were looking for.”

And though Paul has clearly distanced himself from his father’s abhorrent racial history, the younger politician continues to have his share of public racial gaffes; the Baltimore comment in April, the Cliven Bundy meeting in June, and the “All Lives Matter” moment in August are just a few of the recent incidents that come to mind. These are not insignificant incidents; for many African Americans, moments such as these make Paul’s previous outreach efforts appear insincere. Racial blunders add a layer of mistrust and confirm pre-existing skepticism. Whenever Paul stumbled, it was easy for critics to suggest that his behavior was part of a long pattern of anti-black hostility. Or in other words, to accuse Paul of being just another “typical Republican.”

Therein lies the central dilemma: in order to win over black voters, Paul would have had to fully transcend black suspicion and cynicism about the modern Republican Party. That’s a herculean task, not only because of the party and Paul’s history, but also because of the GOP’s present-day antagonisms on matters of race. But this is a marathon, not a sprint, and Paul still has time – and opportunity – to rehabilitate his image and strengthen his relationship with black voters. He is, after all, an active candidate in the Kentucky senatorial race, where black voters will surely play an important role.

The Loneliness of the Black RepublicanLeah Wright Rigueur is assistant professor of public policy at the Harvard Kennedy School of Government. She is the author of The Loneliness of the Black Republican: Pragmatic Politics and the Pursuit of Power.

Philosopher Jason Stanley on Donald Trump and mass incarceration

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Donald Trump and Mass Incarceration

by Jason Stanley

Donald Trump’s support is in large part due to the fact that he gives explicit voice to ideologies that are outside the bounds of public respectability. It is natural to think that the problem then is not Trump, but rather the prevalence of these ideologies. Indeed, you might think that in some sense Donald Trump couldn’t be the problem. A candidate giving voice to such ideologies would only attract support to the extent to which those ideologies have underlying support. If so, much of the criticism that has been directed at Trump’s candidacy is misguided. Perhaps we should even be grateful to Trump for making explicit what is so often present yet hypocritically denied.

And yet it is a powerful thought that the very mark of a demagogue is precisely their willingness to exploit the ideological spaces left firmly outside the sphere of “respectable” public discourse. Hannah Arendt writes:

…the spokesmen for totalitarian movements possessed an unerring instinct for anything that ordinary party propaganda or public opinion did not care or dare to touch. Everything hidden, everything passed over in silence, became of major significance, regardless of its own intrinsic importance. The mob really believed that truth was whatever respectable society had hypocritically passed over.[1]

Arendt is quite clear that Trump’s campaign strategy is the favored choice of democracy’s worst enemies. But she does not explain how giving public voice to disreputable ideology is a greater threat to democracy than the fact of its existence.

The prevalence of xenophobia, Islamophobia, racism, and commitment to harsh retributive justice is undeniably a problem that is independent of Donald Trump. But Trump’s political strategy poses an additional threat to democratic practice. Even when fundamentally illiberal ideologies are publicly repudiated, they serve as barriers to fair democratic deliberation, as politicians appeal to them with the use of coded language (“inner city”, “welfare”). As long as the public ethos against them remains firmly in place, there is a strategy to combat coded appeals to illiberal ideologies, colloquially known as “calling it out”. But Trump is not denying he holds these ideologies; he rather advertises it. In so doing, he legitimizes these ideologies in the public domain. When illiberal ideologies are rendered legitimate, it is no longer clear what strategy to employ to combat them.

In a healthy democracy, democratic deliberation is guided by a norm of impartiality, in the sense that policy makers at least take themselves to be responsible to such a norm, others take them to be responsible to this norm, etc. In political philosophy, there are disputes about which notions of impartiality should be at the basis of liberal democracy. The most important aspect of impartiality is what has come to be known as reasonableness. To be reasonable in one’s conduct towards others is a matter of being open to these other perspectives.

The norm of reasonableness has a long history in democratic political thought. The most well-known contemporary formulation is due to John Rawls:

Persons are reasonable in one basic aspect when, among equals say, they are ready to propose principles and standards as fair terms of cooperation and to abide by them willingly, given the assurance that others will likewise do so. Those norms they view as reasonable for everyone to accept and therefore as justifiable to them; and they are ready to discuss the fair terms that others propose. (John Rawls, Political Liberalism, p. 49)

It could hardly be fair to expect some citizens to comply with a policy if it was devised without their perspectives in mind. Policy that is genuinely fair must come from deliberation that takes every reasonable perspective into account. The stability of democracy as a system therefore depends upon a citizenry who are not sealed off from the perspectives of their reasonable co-citizens by fear, panic, or hatred. A general belief that Jews are out to deceive will undermine reasonable public discourse, as it will lead citizens to discount the actual perspective of their Jewish co-citizens in forming policy. It would be no surprise to discover in such a society policies unfair to Jewish citizens.

Problematic ideological divisions do not immediately disappear in a society even when wars are fought to overcome them. But in the presence of a public ethos that repudiates them, it becomes unacceptable to endorse them in public. As Tali Mendelberg has brilliantly described, this does not mean that the problematic ideological fissures become politically neutralized. It rather means that politicians who seek to exploit them must do so in a way that does not undermine the public’s view of them as reasonable public servants. This dialectic, applied to the ideological fissure of racism in the United States, is aptly reflected in a 1981 interview with Lee Atwater, later to lead George H.W. Bush’s 1988 presidential campaign, with the notorious Willie Horton ad:

You start out in 1954 by saying, “Nigger, nigger, nigger.” By 1968 you can’t say “nigger”—that hurts you, backfires. So you say stuff like, uh, forced busing, states’ rights, and all that stuff, and you’re getting so abstract. Now, you’re talking about cutting taxes, and all these things you’re talking about are totally economic things and a byproduct of them is, blacks get hurt worse than whites.… “We want to cut this,” is much more abstract than even the busing thing, uh, and a hell of a lot more abstract than “Nigger, nigger.”

When a politician uses language that explicitly represents a group in negative terms, it undercuts the social norm that keeps such ideological fissures part of the private sphere. Since it is assumed that legitimate public discourse is guided by a norm of reasonableness, it gives an aura of reasonableness to the description of Muslims as terrorists, Mexican immigrants as “rapists”, or climate science as “bullshit”.

Certain ideologies subordinate by targeting a group, and representing the perspectives of its members as unworthy of consideration in the formation of policy. In the extreme case, such ideologies dehumanize its targets. When ideologies that subordinate or dehumanize a group are legitimated in public debate about policies governing members of that group, democratic deliberation about policy is placed into crisis. We can see this process quite clearly at work by considering the effects of public discourse about US criminal justice practices from the late 1980s through the 1990s.

Violent crime declined continuously and steeply throughout the 1990s, beginning in 1991. But the debate about criminal justice policy and practice during this time was ideologically removed from this reality. Criminal justice policy had become a proving ground for politicians to demonstrate their perceived toughness. Debate was infused by an ethos that frowned on expressions of empathy for perpetrators. Dehumanizing vocabulary targeting those caught up in the criminal justice system was commonplace, and many of the words were racially coded (“super predator”, “thug”, “gang member”, though not “sex offender”). Rehabilitation is hard to envisage for those described as “thugs”, “super predators”, or “gangsters”. These are words that describe persons whose characters are resistant to any such method. Criminal justice practices became harshly retributive as a consequence.

Though the precise mechanisms continue to be a matter of debate, it is widely agreed that the culture surrounding crime policy had an effect on criminal justice practices that was both rapid and extreme. The U.S. Incarceration rate hovered around the norm for liberal democracies of 100 per 100,000 for many decades until the late 1970s. Then it started to rise; the current rate of 756 per 100,000 in prison or jail is by far the highest in the world. The United States has also developed a culture of policing marked by a level of fear and lack of empathy that is without parallel in liberal democracies (a 2015 headline of an article in the Guardian states “By the Numbers: US Police Kill More in Days than Other Countries do in Years”). Nor is the unprecedented decrease in crime since 1991 tightly connected to the intensely punitive criminal justice path the United States chose to take in the 1990s. Canada has experienced a similarly unprecedented drop in crime during this same time period, without following the US path into mass incarceration.

The harshly punitive criminal justice practices that emerged from the American public culture of the 1990s have harmed the United States morally and fiscally, as well as its standing in the world. Rhetoric in the public sphere that describes immigrants as “rapists” and “terrorists” can be expected to have a similar effect on immigration policy. And since Trump uses all opportunity for political debate as a means to signal toughness, the realization of the electoral power of his political strategy poses a broad challenge to democratic practices.

Let us return to the comparison between a political climate in which politicians must cleverly conceal an appeal to (say) racism so it is noticed only by fellow racists, on the one hand, and one in which politicians feel free to loudly proclaim it, on the other. A plausible moral to take from the politics of criminal justice policy and practice in the United Slates in the late 1980s and 1990s is that there is a significant additional policy cost in the latter climate. Politicians signaled their toughness to voters by flaunting their lack of empathy for those accused of crimes. The criminal justice practices that grew out of this were harshly cruel and socially and economically destructive.

American politicians typically avoid rhetorical strategies that explicitly dehumanize even widely disparaged groups. In the 1980s and 1990s, this mechanism of protection evaporated in the debate surrounding criminal justice. American politicians eagerly trolled for votes by employing incendiary rhetoric to describe criminal offenders. The result is the current crisis.

Trump’s candidacy is focused on policy debates whose structure parallels that of the criminal justice debate, where there is a clear “friend/enemy” distinction exploitable for political gain, such as immigration and terrorism. His rhetoric emulates the dehumanizing tropes of the late 1980s and 1990s criminal justice debate. This is no accident, as Trump developed this rhetorical style during these very debates. Indeed, any history of the rhetorical excesses of that debate must include the full page advertisement Donald Trump published in several New York city newspapers in 1989, during the trial of the Central Park Five, the five teenagers on trial for the brutal rape of a jogger in Central Park, entitled BRING BACK THE DEATH PENALTY BRING BACK OUR POLICE”. It said the “crazed misfits” causing crime in city streets “should be forced to suffer, and when they kill, should be executed for their crimes” (the teenagers were later discovered to be innocent). In the current campaign, criminal justice is again central. Trump urges the country, in language evoking that previous era, “we have to get a lot tougher on crime.” One of this signature campaign issues is broadening the use of the death penalty. His “tough on crime” rhetoric has already been credited with threatening to undermine the bipartisan consensus that there is a crisis of incarceration.

Trump is also increasingly experimenting with the most extreme dehumanizing representations, ones that have pre-genocidal associations. His first national advertisement, released this week, showed Mexican immigrants as insects scurrying and scattering like an infestation. It would be nice to dismiss such representations as unlikely to affect public debate. History suggests that this is wishful thinking. The representation of targeted groups as insects or vermin is a theme in Nazi propaganda about Jews; in the buildup to the Rwandan genocide, Hutu ethnic radio pride radio stations began calling Tutsi, “inyenzi”, meaning “cockroach”. Recent US history with the criminal justice debate suggests we may even be particularly vulnerable.

In the late 1980s and throughout the 1990s, politicians across the political spectrum seemed to tacitly agree that reasonable criminal justice policy would have to be sacrificed for electoral expediency. Debate about criminal justice became a way of appealing to the worst appeals to fear and voters’ desire for revenge, without fear of social sanction by the media or the public. Democrats could freely use it to enact the flawed masculine ideal of a complete lack of empathy. The case of US criminal justice policy shows that when democratic deliberation breaks down in this way, it is not just the democratic process that is lost. Trump’s campaign promises to broaden this to every policy debate. Its success is already leading to broader emulation. More than just our democracy is in peril.

[1] Hannah Arendt, The Origins of Totalitarianism (Harcourt Brace and Company: San Diego, 1973), p. 351.

Stanley jacketJason Stanley is the Jacob Urowsky Professor of Philosophy at Yale University. Most recently, he is the author of How Propaganda Works. Read more on his website, here.

Jason Stanley discusses democracy and demagogues in The New York Times

stanley jacketJason Stanley, author of How Propaganda Works, had a popular op ed in the New York Times this weekend on democracy and demagogues, containing references to both Plato and Trump.

On Trump’s well known comments on Mexican immigrants and Ben Carson’s recent claim that he “would not advocate that we put a Muslim in charge of this nation”, Stanley writes in the NYT:

Liberal democratic rhetoric is supposed to unify citizens with diverse perspectives and backgrounds, and make visible previously discounted perspectives (for example, the perspective of women during the struggle for women’s right to vote). Trump’s and Carson’s comments are explicitly antidemocratic. The fact that they seem to have been rewarded — at least in immediate improvements in poll standings — confronts defenders of the American political system with two questions. There once was a facade of equal respect that required political strategists to use code words to avoid accusations of violating it. What has caused it to crack? And what are the risks for our democracy?

According to Stanley, two of the causes are the need to court donors, and the fact that politicians feel compelled to appeal to voters who don’t share democratic values. Read the rest of the piece here and the introduction to How Propaganda Works, his acclaimed examination of how propaganda undermines democracy and particularly the ideal of equality, here.

Jason Stanley is professor of philosophy at Yale University. He is the author of Knowledge and Practical Interests, Language in Context, and Know How.

An interview with Edmund Fawcett about “Liberalism: The Life of an Idea”

Fawcett jacketIs liberal democracy in need of a serious overhaul? As we release the paperback of Liberalism: The Life of an Idea, (which includes a new preface), Edmund Fawcett took the time to answer some questions about his book, including whether liberalism means different things in Europe than it does in America, where exactly liberal democracy comes from, and what about it is in need of repair.

Why liberalism and why a history?

EF: My book’s topical for a simple reason. Where liberal democracy exists, it badly needs repair. Where it doesn’t, it is losing appeal. Nobody disputes that. What’s harder is to say what liberal democracy is and why it matters. Oddly, few books tell us. Mine does both. We need to see where liberal democracy come from. We need to see what we risk losing. As history, my book looks ahead by looking back.

What makes your book on liberalism different?

EF: It looks past disputed, misleading labels like “freedom” or “the individual” to what liberals really care about and aim for. It combines history and ideas. It foregrounds French and German liberals, too often ignored. It handles tricky academic disputes–in politics, economics and philosophy–in a readable, non-academic way. It holds a complicated, 200-year story together through lives and thoughts of exemplary thinkers and politicians.

Don’t Europeans and Americans mean different things by “liberal”?

EF: Not really. On the American right, it’s true, “liberal” is a term of abuse. On the European left, “liberal” means a lackey of neo-capitalism. We can’t, though, let sloganeers hog the argument. France, Germany and the US are liberal democracies. China and Russia are not. Everybody understands what those two sentences mean. Nobody seriously disputes that they are true. The meaning problem with “liberal” is a side issue.

Some reviewers found your liberal tent too big, your idea of liberalism too loose.

EF: Funny complaints for a book on liberalism. It’s not a sect or creed. Inclusiveness ought to be a liberal virtue. Seriously, Liberalism set out four key ideas that unite liberals and tell them apart from their rivals, then and now: resistance to power, faith in progress, equal respect for people and acceptance that social conflict was inevitable, but containable. I distinguished liberalism from democracy, often confused, and described how in the 20th century liberal democracy grew out of historic compromises between the two.

In your big cast of more than 50 characters, name some favorites.

EF: In the 19th century, the thinker John Stuart Mill, for trying hardest to hold together liberal conflicting elements together. Lincoln for his power of liberal words. In the 20th century, Lyndon Johnson for the liberal capacity to change and Germany’s Willy Brandt for the ability to admit national wrong. And now? It’s hard to see one’s own time. Giants are only visible looking back. A fair guess: today’s liberal giants won’t all be white, US-European and male.

What is new in your preface to the paperback?

EF: I answer criticisms, some fair, some not fair. I clarify points of mine that led to misunderstandings. I stress that why I wrote the book–challenges to liberal democracy from inside and out–strikes me as even more pressing now than when I began. I explain that I left out critics and alternatives to liberalism from right and left. Those topics were too vast for one book, though I’m turning to conservatism now.

Edmund Fawcett worked at The Economist for more than three decades, serving as chief correspondent in Washington, Paris, and Berlin, as well as European and literary editor. His writing has also appeared in the New York Times, the Los Angeles Times, and the Guardian, among other publications.

Ethicist Jason Brennan on why smart politicians say dumb things

Jason BrennanEthicist Jason Brennan, whose posts on the ethics of voting for our 2012 Election 101 series were enormously popular, will be writing a series of posts for the PUP blog offering unique perspectives on ethics, voting, not voting, democracy, public policy and strategy. He is currently Flanagan Family Associate Professor of Strategy, Economics, Ethics, and Public Policy at the McDonough School of Business at Georgetown University, and is writing Against Politics, under contract with Princeton University Press. We’re excited to have him back, and to kick it off with his first post. –PUP Blog Editor

Saying stupid things to would-be voters is a very smart thing to do.

The Onion jokes: Donald Trump is “an eccentric, megalomaniac billionaire still more relatable to average Americans than anyone willing to dedicate life to politics”. Every other day, he says something outrageous or blatantly false, and yet he continues to grow in the polls. He seems to be getting by on empty slogans, with no well thought out policy ideas.
 When you see a politician saying something outrageous or blatantly false, you might be tempted to decry the quality of our politicians. If only someone better came along.

But there’s a reason we have the kind of politicians we do, and it’s not because no one better is willing to step up to the plate. Nor is it because great and evil villains (insert the Koch Brothers or George Soros, depending on your political predilection) are keeping our saviors down. Donald Trump may or may not be an eccentric megalomaniac, and he has indeed said many substantively stupid things. But he’s not a stupid man, and saying stupid things to would-be voters is a very smart thing to do.

Politicians are trying to win elections. To win elections, they need to get the most votes. To do that, they need to appeal to as many voters as possible. In an election, what every smart politician is trying to do is behave in ways that he or she hopes will appeal to the typical voter. Politicians are like this because they respond rationally to the incentives democracy creates.

 If voters were well-informed, dispassionate policy-wonks, then political campaigns would resemble peer-reviewed economics journals. But few voters or potential voters are like that. As I’ll document at greater length in future blog posts here, most voters are poorly informed, passionate, biased, overconfident, and tribalistic. Most non-voters are not dispassionate truth-seekers; rather, they just don’t care much at all.

Voters are like this because they respond rationally to the incentives democracy creates. The problem is that our individual votes count for very little. Economists and political scientists debate just how to calculate the probability that your vote will make a difference. Still, even on the most optimistic estimate in the literature, your vote (in a presidential election) has a 1 in 10 million chance of making a difference, but only if you live one of handful of swing states and vote Democrat or Republican. Otherwise, your vote has no real chance of mattering. Polls show that citizens more or less realize this.

Voters do not consume much information, nor do they discipline themselves to think rationally about the information they consume, because their votes make little difference. As economists like to say, voters are rationally ignorant. Consider, as an analogy. Suppose a billionaire offers you a million dollars if you can ace the Advance Placement Economics and Political Science exams. You’d probably be willing to learn basic economics and political science for that price. But now suppose the billionaire instead offers you a 1 in 20 million chance of earning that million dollars if you ace the exams. Now it’s not worth your time—it doesn’t pay to learn economics or political science.

Indeed, it’s not clear that voters are even trying to change the outcome of the election when they vote.  One popular theory of voter behavior is that voters vote in order to express themselves. Though the act of voting is private, voters regard voting as a uniquely apt way to demonstrate their commitment to their political team. Voting is like wearing a Metallica T-shirt at a concert or doing the wave at a sports game. Sports fans who paint their faces the team colors do not generally believe they will change the outcome of the game, but instead wish to demonstrate their commitment to their team. Even when watching games alone, sports fans cheer and clap for their teams. Perhaps voting is like this.

When you see politicians saying dumb things, remember that these politicians are not fools. They are responding rationally to the incentives before them. They say dumb things because they expect voters want to hear dumb things. When you see that voters want to hear dumb things, remember that the voters are only foolish because they are responding rationally to the incentives before them. How we vote matters, but for each individual person, how she votes does not. Thus, most individuals vote as if very little is at stake.Trump’s popularity is an indictment of democracy, not a conviction (yet). Democracy may make us dumb, but that doesn’t mean that in the end, democracies always make dumb decisions.

Jason Brennan is Flanagan Family Associate Professor of Strategy, Economics, Ethics, and Public Policy at the McDonough School of Business at Georgetown University. He is the author of Markets without Limits, with Peter Jaworski (2015), Why Not Capitalism? (2014), Compulsory Voting, with Lisa Hill (2014), Libertarianism (2012), The Ethics of Voting (2011), and A Brief Hisotry of Liberty, with David Schmidtz (2010). He is currently writing Against Politics, under contract with Princeton University Press, and Global Justice as Global Freedom, with Bas von der Vossen.

Presenting Richard Bourke’s new video discussion of “Empire and Revolution: The Political Life of Edmund Burke”

Bourke jacketEdmund Burke was arguably one of the most captivating figures in turbulent eighteenth-century life and thought, but studies of the complex statesman and philosopher often reduce him to a one dimensional defender of the aristocracy.

Richard Bourke, professor in the history of political thought and codirector of the Centre for the Study of the History of Political Thought at Queen Mary University of London, has written a multifaceted portrait that depicts Burke as a philosopher-in-action who evaluated the political realities of the day through the lens of Enlightenment thought. The book also reconstructs one of the most fascinating eras in the history of the British empire, a period spanning myriad imperial ventures and three European wars. PUP is excited to present this new video in which Bourke discusses Empire and Revolution: The Political Life of Edmund Burke:

 

New Politics 2015 Catalog

Our Politics 2015 catalog is now available.

k10627 In Sailing the Water’s Edge, Helen V. Milner and Dustin Tingley analyze how the different tools of foreign policy, including foreign aid, international trade, and the use of military force, have been used by the US since World War II. They shed light on the different forces at play that have helped to shape our foreign policy, particularly the relationship between the president, Congress, interest groups, and the public.
k10423 Be sure to check out The Rise and Fall of Classical Greece by Josiah Ober. Ober brings to the table new sources in making his argument that ancient Greek superiority was no accident—it can be explained by innovations in politics and economics. You can read chapter one here and a Q&A with the author here.
k10567 Finally, don’t miss Empire and Revolution by Richard Bourke. At 1032 pages, this ambitious work cuts through many misconceptions about Edmund Burke and his ideas using a wide range of sources. Readers will be left with a thorough understanding of one of the preeminent statesmen of the late 18th century. We invite you to read the introduction here.

For more information on these and many more titles in political science, scroll through our catalog above. If you would like to receive updates on new titles, you can subscribe to our email list.

Book Fact Friday – The Few vs. The Many

From chapter 1 of The Birth of Politics:

The elites in ancient Greece called themselves hoi aristoi, or the best men. It is from this term that we get the word ‘aristocracy.’ They also called themselves hoi oligoi, or the few, as opposed to hoi polloi, the many. The assumption was that there would only be a few rich families and the rest of the people would be poor, an idea that we can see playing out today.

The Birth of Politics: Eight Greek and Roman Political Ideas and Why They Matter
Melissa Lane
Introduction

k10422In The Birth of Politics, Melissa Lane introduces the reader to the foundations of Western political thought, from the Greeks, who invented democracy, to the Romans, who created a republic and then transformed it into an empire. Tracing the origins of our political concepts from Socrates to Plutarch to Cicero, Lane reminds us that the birth of politics was a story as much of individuals as ideas. Scouring the speeches of lawyers alongside the speculations of philosophers, and the reflections of ex-slaves next to the popular comedies and tragedies of the Greek and Roman stages, this book brings ancient ideas to life in unexpected ways.

Lane shows how the Greeks and Romans defined politics with distinctive concepts, vocabulary, and practices—all of which continue to influence politics and political aspirations around the world today. She focuses on eight political ideas from the Greco-Roman world that are especially influential today: justice, virtue, constitution, democracy, citizenship, cosmopolitanism, republic, and sovereignty. Lane also describes how the ancient formulations of these ideas often challenge widely held modern assumptions—for example, that it is possible to have political equality despite great economic inequality, or that political regimes can be indifferent to the moral character of their citizens.