#Election2016: And then we came to the end

Our Election 2016 blog, active since last January, has featured our authors discussing everything from oration styles, to the particulars of populist rhetoric, to the politics of motherhood. And now, gratefully, for many an exhausted blogger and policy wonk, it’s a wrap. Time to get to the polls! If you’ve forgotten the location of your polling place, you can find it on Vote411 by entering your address.

 

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James May: What would Cicero think of oratorical style in election 2016?

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by James May

For me, it’s always a good thing to see references to Rome’s greatest orator, Marcus Tullius Cicero, in the contemporary press. Indeed, those of us living in the twenty-first century stand to learn much from him and other great thinkers and writers of antiquity. In that regard, I thank Ms. Zauzmer for drawing a comparison between some of Donald Trump’s rhetorical techniques and those that Cicero recommends in his theoretical works on rhetoric and oratory in her recent article in the Washington Post entitled, Donald Trump, the Cicero of 2016.

To be sure, Trump, like most people who attempt to persuade others, resorts to the use of many standard, rhetorical devices—such as praeterition, rhetorical question, and others mentioned by Zauzmer—devices that were the staple of not only Cicero’s technical writings on rhetoric, but those written by the Greeks centuries earlier, which inspired and influenced him. In fact, as I pointed out a few weeks ago in a piece entitled How Donald Trump Wins Arguments, Trump seems to be following Ciceronian advice by grounding most of his attempts at persuasion in arguments based on the presentation of character, what the Greeks and Romans called ethos, (his own, but mostly the denigration of his opponent’s character), and on stirring the emotions of his audience (i.e., pathos). But, having spent a half-century reading and studying the works of Cicero, I must paraphrase an erstwhile vice-presidential candidate when I declare, I knew Cicero, and Donald Trump is no Cicero.

From boyhood on, Cicero’s entire life and education were spent in preparation for the Roman forum, i.e., the political arena of ancient Rome. As a youth, he studied not only rhetoric and oratory, but also poetry, literature, history, law, and philosophy. He wrote extensively in several of these genres. And while it is true that he broke into Roman politics as an outsider (what the Romans called a novus homo), his political aims, what we might call his “platform,” was to preserve the tried and true customs of Rome, what the Romans called the mos maiorum, or the tradition of the ancestors; rather than breaking the system, he wanted to restore and uphold it.

In oratorical terms, Cicero would gasp to have one of his polished orations compared to a speech by Trump (or for that matter, a speech by Ms. Clinton). The care, polish, and near perfection of a Ciceronian oration is a beauty to behold, and sadly few public utterances today can come close to its eloquence. And it is not only in terms of “courtesy,” as Ms. Zauzmer certainly tongue-in-cheek indicates in her conclusion, that Trump and Cicero differ. Consider what Cicero has to say about one of the virtues of oratorical style, appropriateness:

The foundation of eloquence, just as of everything else, is wisdom. In a speech, just as in life, nothing is more difficult than to discern what is appropriate…The speaker must pay attention to appropriateness not only in his thoughts but also even in his words…Although a word has no force apart from the thing, the same thing is still often either approved or rejected depending on its being expressed by one word or another. And in all cases, the question must be, ‘How far?’ For, although each subject has its own limits of appropriateness, too much is generally more offensive than too little.

That said, Cicero’s use of negative character description to describe his opponent can cross the line as inappropriately as do some of the utterances of today’s politicians about their opponents. Consider what he says about his enemy, Mark Antony, in his Second Philippic:

But let us pass over his acts that are of a more hardy sort of wickedness; rather let’s talk about his most profligate brand of worthlessness. You, with those jaws of yours, those sides of yours, and with that overall bodily strength similar to a gladiator’s, guzzled so much wine at Hippia’s wedding that you were forced to vomit the next day in the sight of the Roman people. Oh, a disgusting thing not merely to see, but even hear about! If this had happened to you at dinner in one of your drinking binges, who would have not thought it scandalous? But in an assembly of the Roman people, while carrying on public business, a master of the horse, for whom it would have been disgraceful even to belch, vomited up chunks of what he had been eating that stunk of wine, filling his own lap and the whole tribunal.

“Crooked Hillary” seems rather tame in comparison. Perhaps Donald Trump did learn a few tricks from Cicero!?

CiceroJames M. May is professor of classics, the Kenneth O. Bjork Distinguished Professor, and former provost and dean at St. Olaf College. An award-winning teacher, he is a widely recognized expert on Cicero and classical rhetoric and has written and edited many books on these topics. He is the translator of How to Win an Argument: An Ancient Guide to the Art of Persuasion by Marcus Tullius Cicero.

Adam Seth Levine: Does Populist Rhetoric Undermine Itself?

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by Adam Seth Levine

The 2016 presidential race features no shortage of populist rhetoric. While scholars and commentators disagree about the extent to which candidates such as Donald Trump or Bernie Sanders are truly populists, there is no doubt that they have frequently employed rhetoric that contains two essential features: first, a critique of contemporary political and economic life and, second, a call for broader participation by the people that will set things right in response to an elite held responsible for these problems.

At first blush, these two features would seem to be perfectly compatible with one another. However, a growing body of research shows that they often are not. In fact, the sharper the critique of contemporary life—and, in particular, the more it is phrased in terms that are personally relevant—the more likely it is to undermine people’s desire to heed the call to action. In short, populist rhetoric is often self-undermining.

This line of research uses experiments to randomly assign people to receive populist rhetoric (or not) and then measures their level of political engagement. The general conclusion that emerges is that, when rhetoric reminds people about critiques of economic and political life that relate directly to their personal financial concerns and/or ways in which our democracy fails to be responsive the wishes of the citizenry, then such rhetoric often reduces rather than increases their willingness to spend scarce resources on activism. At the same time, however, it does increase people’s concern about the issues and willingness to express support for remedies. So, it satisfies one goal while at the same time undermining another. This pattern is important because, while public opinion can impact the shape of the political agenda and the likelihood of policy change, that link is not automatic. Such change is more likely to arise when there is also organized activism pushing for it.

For instance, in my 2015 book, American Insecurity: Why Our Economic Fears Lead to Political Inaction, I conducted a series of experiments in which some participants were randomly assigned to receive general information about a civic organization along with populist appeals related to its work to address health care costs or education costs, while others just received the general information. I found that when the populist rhetoric reminded people about financial constraints they were personally facing (e.g. students with education loans, or people without health insurance facing large health care costs), then it reduced their willingness to donate money to the organization. If they were in the labor force, it also reduced their willingness to spend time by joining the organization. Yet, in all cases, people become more concerned about the issue at hand and were more likely to consider it a political priority. In short, reminding people about their financial constraints often does not motivate them to want to spend money or time on politics, even if it heightens concern about the problem.

What about critiques of contemporary political life? During the 2016 race, both Trump and Sanders have repeatedly warned that citizens’ voices are not being heard and that the election is rigged. Robyn Stiles and I recently tested the effect of this kind of rhetoric on people’s willingness to be electorally engaged. We found that in each case messages about elections being rigged or the wealthy buying elections reduced electoral engagement, even though they increased the degree to which people expressed increasing concern about the problem. In short, telling people that their voice may not matter does not make them want to spend scarce resources exercising it, even if it makes them more likely to support policies that would reduce political inequality.

While these two experiments by no means cover the full range of populist rhetoric, they do highlight the central point: there is often a critical and unrecognized tension within the two main goals of populist rhetoric. What to do? One answer is that sparking activism in response to people’s concerns about contemporary economic and political life will often require tapping into motivations other than the issues themselves. After all, people get involved in politics for many reasons that are not solely about the personal grievances and policy goals they hold, such as motivations tied to social influence and other social goals (e.g. the desire to respond affirmatively to a friend). Invoking these motivations is not always easy, but at the same time holds greater promise for sparking activism in situations where the rhetoric itself is self-undermining.

Levine

Adam Seth Levine is an assistant professor in the Department of Government at Cornell University. He has published in a variety of outlets such as the Journal of Politics, Political Analysis, Review of Behavioral Economics, and Political Communication. His work has won numerous awards, including the 2011 E. E. Schattschneider Prize. This prize is the highest dissertation award in the field of American government and is given annually by the American Political Science Association. He is the author of American Insecurity: Why Our Economic Fears Lead to Political Inaction.

Luke Mayville: Is money-making an art or a mania?

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by Luke Mayville

“I don’t do it for the money,” reads the opening line of Donald Trump’s The Art of the Deal. “I’ve got enough, much more than I’ll ever need. I do it to do it. Deals are my art form. Other people paint beautifully…or write wonderful poetry. I like making deals.”

Contrary to the efforts of Elizabeth Warren and others to castigate Trump as a money-grubber—someone monomaniacally obsessed with accumulating wealth—the Trump campaign has sought to present him less as a money-maker than as an artisan and a master-builder whose greatness lies not in his wealth but in the structures he has built.

“In our business,” proclaimed Ivanka Trump in her speech at the RNC, “you’re not a builder unless you’ve got a building to show for it, or in my father’s case, city skylines.” Donald Trump’s ruling desire, the story goes, is not merely to accumulate but to build and create—jobs, skylines, deals.

This persona is in keeping with a story that Americans have long told about private ambition and the desire to get rich. Consider Ayn Rand, a writer who is idolized by Fortune 500 CEOs and who may be peerless in her influence on American culture. The heroes of Rand’s novels are not maniacal money-grubbers but rather inventors and architects. Howard Roark, the heroic protagonist of The Fountainhead (and a character whom, by the way, Donald Trump strives to emulate), is described by Rand not as a greedy egoist but as a man who “struggles for the integrity of his creative work against every form of social opposition.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson spoke for an American tradition when he insisted that the pursuit of wealth was driven by something much nobler than greed, ostentation, or a lust for power. “Men of sense,” wrote Emerson, “esteem wealth to be the assimilation of nature to themselves, the converting of the sap and juices of the planet to the incarnation and nutriment of their design.”

Emerson’s suggestion is that the Donald Trumps of the world should be recognized as master craftsman who repurpose the raw stuff of nature into ingenious works of art.

But as we learned in July, Trump’s Art of the Deal was ghostwritten. The real Trump, according to ghostwriter Tony Schwartz, is motivated not by the passion of the craftsman but by an insatiable desire for “money, praise, and celebrity.” What Schwartz revealed is that the career of Donald Trump does not fit the mold of America’s romantic ideal of money-making. Instead, Trump’s character and motives are better explained by an alternative strain of American commentary.

John Adams, who was the second President of the United States and also a shrewd critic of America’s emerging commercial culture, believed that the pursuit of wealth was driven by a raging passion for social distinction. The desire for riches was akin to political ambition, which Adams described as a motive that “strengthens at every advance, and at last takes possession of the whole soul so absolutely, that a man seeks nothing in the world of importance to others or himself, but in his object.” The desire for riches, which was merely one variety of the desire for praise and distinction, was maniacal because it was ultimately insatiable. “The love of gold,” wrote Adams, “grows faster than the heap of acquisition; the love of praise increases by every gratification, till it stings like an adder, and bites like a serpent; till the man is miserable every moment when he does not snuff the incense.”

Martin Luther King Jr. echoed Adams when he described Americans’ love of money as a variety of the “drum-major instinct,” a desire “to be out front … to lead the parade … to be first.” The desire to stand out was not a bad thing in itself. In fact, King believed that the instinct should be harnessed to motivate service to humanity. But much more common was the case of the avaricious man who, moved by the drum major instinct, buys a fancier car and builds a bigger house than the next man, all in an effort to out-do the Joneses.

Among the revelations of Trump’s ghostwriter was that the depiction of Trump as a passionate artisan—someone who crafts real estate deals in the same way that a poet writes poetry—was merely a cover-up used to hide his true ruling passion: to get rich and, beyond that, to prove “I’m richer than you”—to be distinguished and celebrated for his wealth.

Surely, not all money-making is driven by such self-absorption. Riches have often been the reward of the bourgeois virtues of thrift, saving, timeliness, and industriousness. Much of America’s wealth can in fact be traced to extraordinary feats of invention and ingenuity. But the phenomenon of Donald Trump reminds us that the idea of money-making as craftsmanship—even if it contains a substantial part of the truth—is also readily deployable as a self-serving myth. And the problem is not just that the myth excuses the greed of those billionaire politicians who wish to govern us. It also flatters the pervasive yearning for riches among the broader public, the same yearning that motivated droves of Americans to buy The Art of the Deal.

MayvilleLuke Mayville is a postdoctoral fellow at the Center for American Studies at Columbia University. He is a contributor to Commonweal and the author of John Adams and the Fear of American Oligarchy.

Christopher Loss: Will higher education be free?

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By Christopher P. Loss

Higher education will figure more than ever in the coming presidential battle between Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump. Once a political afterthought, higher education has become a major policy problem of great consequence in recent elections. This one will be no different.

The candidates have their choice of issues from which to choose, from state disinvestment and affordability to access and free speech. But the only one that’s going to matter come November will be Clinton’s vow to make public college free for families who earn less than $125,000 and Trump’s determined opposition to it.

The idea of “free college” is not new. In 1947 President Truman favored it. The recent discussion of it, however, was sparked by President Obama in 2015 when he proposed America’s College Promise—at $60 billion plan modeled on Tennessee’s free community college program of the same name. Late in his second term, Obama’s proposal flamed out in Congress but became a touchstone of Senator Bernie Sanders’ upstart presidential bid and, ultimately, part of the Democratic Party’s platform.

The “free college” issue will be central to both campaigns. Trump, who has yet to put forth a higher education platform, has the easier task. He will do what he can to portray Clinton’s plan as just another big ticket, big government giveaway that the country cannot possibly afford—a wasteful bailout for the under-performing, outmoded higher education sector. Among fiscal conservatives and the “poorly educated” whom Trump has actively courted, this will be all they need to hear.

For her part, Clinton will press hard on the Trump University debacle for as long as she can, though at some point she will have to make her case for government action in what would be a colossally complicated and hugely expensive undertaking. The specter of Clinton’s failed effort at healthcare reform in the 1990s also looms large. For years that failure was used by her opponents as exhibit A of big government run amuck.

In the aftermath, if not afterglow, of the Affordable Care Act, however, Clinton has been partially redeemed as a politician ahead of her time. Will the American people get behind Clinton on the free college issue? Is she a sage or just another political opportunist willing to say and do anything to win over the college-educated voters who abandoned her in the spring but that she needs in the fall? This is the question heading into November.

Which begs a series of other related questions: First, is the college cost crunch the big issue that Clinton and others in the media have made it out to be?

The answer to this question is a qualified yes: the cost of college is a daunting burden for many students, but especially for poor students. Yet it’s also true that there is an enormous amount of misinformation about the “real” cost of college, as William Bowen and Michael S. McPherson detail well in their new book, Lesson Plan: An Agenda for Change in American Higher Education (Princeton University Press, 2016). Using data from the College Board, they put college costs in perspective, noting that 61 percent of college students graduate with some debt and that the average debt per graduate is around $26,000. They dig deeper to make sense of exactly what it means, since 39 percent of indebted graduates owe less than $10,000 and another 28 percent owe between $10,000 and $25,000. Only four percent of students owe more than $100,000. These data may surprise readers who have relied on anecdotal news articles and misleading documentaries for their information; for Bowen and McPherson, these data suggest that the affordability problem might well be “overblown” and that there are bigger issues like college completion that need to be addressed.

For the sake of argument, let’s agree that rising tuition and fees and associated debt represents a problem of some magnitude. This leads to the second question: if Clinton is elected—and most prognosticators seem to think she will be—is the wholesale reconstruction of the federal-higher education student aid model politically feasible? I wouldn’t count on it. Although it is clear that we long ago entered an era where a college diploma is necessary for upward mobility and global competitiveness—when the social and economic benefits of education beyond high school are beyond doubt—a total overhaul the federal aid model seems farfetched. Not only are there real issues with the associated costs and administrative challenges of implementation, as Kevin Carey noted recently in the New York Times, the likelihood of continued Republican control of the House as well as the Senate would make it difficult if not impossible to pass such a law.

Where does this leave us? More than likely it leaves the higher education system in exactly the place that it is today, with students left to navigate the existing aid system in order to go to school.

LossChristopher P. Loss is associate professor of public policy and Higher Education and associate professor of history at Vanderbilt University. He is the author of Between Citizens and State: The Politics of of American Higher Education in the 20th Century (Princeton University Press, 2012), which won the  2013 American Educational Research Association Outstanding Book Award.

Brexit, voting, and political turbulence

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Helen Margetts, Peter John, Scott Hale and Taha Yasseri

On 23rd June 2016, a majority of the British public voted in a referendum on whether to leave the European Union. The Leave or so-called #Brexit option was victorious, with a margin of 52% to 48% across the country, although Scotland, Northern Ireland, London and some towns voted to remain. The result was a shock to both leave and remain supporters alike. US readers might note that when the polls closed, the odds on futures markets of Brexit (15%) were longer than those of Trump being elected President.

Political scientists are reeling with the sheer volume of politics that has been packed into the month after the result. From the Prime Minister’s morning-after resignation on 24th June the country was mired in political chaos, with almost every political institution challenged and under question in the aftermath of the vote, including both Conservative and Labour parties and the existence of the United Kingdom itself, given Scotland’s resistance to leaving the EU. The eventual formation of a government under a new prime minister, Teresa May, has brought some stability. But she was not elected and her government has a tiny majority of only 12 Members of Parliament. A cartoon by Matt in the Telegraph on July 2nd (which would work for almost any day) showed two students, one of them saying ‘I’m studying politics. The course covers the period from 8am on Thursday to lunchtime on Friday.’

All these events – the campaigns to remain or leave, the post-referendum turmoil, resignations, sackings and appointments – were played out on social media; the speed of change and the unpredictability of events being far too great for conventional media to keep pace. So our book, Political Turbulence: How Social Media Shape Collective Action, can provide a way to think about the past weeks. The book focuses on how social media allow new, ‘tiny acts’ of political participation (liking, tweeting, viewing, following, signing petitions and so on), which turn social movement theory around. Rather than identifying with issues, forming collective identity and then acting to support the interests of that identity – or voting for a political party that supports it – in a social media world, people act first, and think about it, or identify with others later – if at all.

These tiny acts of participation can scale up to large-scale mobilizations, such as demonstrations, protests or petitions for policy change. These mobilizations normally fail – 99.9% of petitions to the UK or US governments fail to get the 100,000 signatures required for a parliamentary debate (UK) or an official response (US). The very few that succeed usually do so very quickly on a massive scale, but without the normal organizational or institutional trappings of a social or political movement, such as leaders or political parties. When Brazilian President Dilma Rousseff asked to speak to the leaders of the mass demonstrations against the government in 2014 organised entirely on social media with an explicit rejection of party politics, she was told ‘there are no leaders’.

This explosive rise, non-normal distribution and lack of organization that characterizes contemporary politics as a chaotic system, can explain why many political mobilizations of our times seem to come from nowhere. In the US and the UK it can help to understand the shock waves of support that brought Bernie Sanders, Donald Trump, Jeremy Corbyn (elected leader of the Labour party in 2015) and Brexit itself, all of which have challenged so strongly traditional political institutions. In both countries, the two largest political parties are creaking to breaking point in their efforts to accommodate these phenomena.

The unpredicted support for Brexit by over half of voters in the UK referendum illustrates these characteristics of the movements we model in the book, with the resistance to traditional forms of organization. Voters were courted by political institutions from all sides – the government, all the political parties apart from UKIP, the Bank of England, international organizations, foreign governments, the US President himself and the ‘Remain’ or StrongerIn campaign convened by Conservative, Labour and the smaller parties. Virtually every authoritative source of information supported Remain. Yet people were resistant to aligning themselves with any of them. Experts, facts, leaders of any kind were all rejected by the rising swell of support for the Leave side. Famously, Michael Gove, one of the key leave campaigners said ‘we have had enough of experts’. According to YouGov polls, over 2/3 of Conservative voters in 2015 voted to Leave in 2016, as did over one third of Labour and Liberal Democrat voters.

Instead, people turned to a few key claims promulgated by the two Leave campaigns Vote Leave (with key Conservative Brexiteers such as Boris Johnson, Michael Gove and Liam Fox) and Leave.EU, dominated by UKIP and its leader Nigel Farage, bankrolled by the aptly named billionaire Arron Banks. This side dominated social media in driving home their simple (if largely untrue) claims and anti-establishment, anti-elitist message (although all were part of the upper echelons of both establishment and elite). Key memes included the claim (painted on the side of a bus) that the UK gave £350m a week to the EU which could instead be spent on the NHS; the likelihood that Turkey would soon join the EU; and an image showing floods of migrants entering the UK via Europe. Banks brought in staff from his own insurance companies and political campaign firms (such as Goddard Gunster) and Leave.EU created a massive database of leave supporters to employ targeted advertising on social media.

While Remain represented the status-quo and a known entity, Leave was flexible to sell itself as anything to anyone. Leave campaigners would often criticize the Government but then not offer specific policy alternatives stating, ‘we are a campaign not a government.’ This ability for people to coalesce around a movement for a variety of different (and sometimes conflicting) reasons is a hallmark of the social-media based campaigns that characterize Political Turbulence. Some voters and campaigners argued that voting Leave would allow the UK to be more global and accept more immigrants from non-EU countries. In contrast, racism and anti-immigration sentiment were key reasons for other voters. Desire for sovereignty and independence, responses to austerity and economic inequality and hostility to the elites in London and the South East have all figured in the torrent of post-Brexit analysis. These alternative faces of Leave were exploited to gain votes for ‘change,’ but the exact change sought by any two voters could be very different.

The movement‘s organization illustrates what we have observed in recent political turbulence – as in Brazil, Hong Kong and Egypt; a complete rejection of mainstream political parties and institutions and an absence of leaders in any conventional sense. There is little evidence that the leading lights of the Leave campaigns were seen as prospective leaders. There was no outcry from the Leave side when they seemed to melt away after the vote, no mourning over Michael Gove’s complete fall from grace when the government was formed – nor even joy at Boris Johnson’s appointment as Foreign Secretary. Rather, the Leave campaigns acted like advertising campaigns, driving their points home to all corners of the online and offline worlds but without a clear public face. After the result, it transpired that there was no plan, no policy proposals, no exit strategy proposed by either campaign. The Vote Leave campaign was seemingly paralyzed by shock after the vote (they tried to delete their whole site, now reluctantly and partially restored with the lie on the side of the bus toned down to £50 million), pickled forever after 23rd June. Meanwhile, Teresa May, a reluctant Remain supporter and an absent figure during the referendum itself, emerged as the only viable leader after the event, in the same way as (in a very different context) the Muslim Brotherhood, as the only viable organization, were able to assume power after the first Egyptian revolution.

In contrast, the Leave.Eu website remains highly active, possibly poised for the rebirth of UKIP as a radical populist far-right party on the European model, as Arron Banks has proposed. UKIP was formed around this single policy – of leaving the EU – and will struggle to find policy purpose, post-Brexit. A new party, with Banks’ huge resources and a massive database of Leave supporters and their social media affiliations, possibly disenchanted by the slow progress of Brexit, disaffected by the traditional parties – might be a political winner on the new landscape.

The act of voting in the referendum will define people’s political identity for the foreseeable future, shaping the way they vote in any forthcoming election. The entire political system is being redrawn around this single issue, and whichever organizational grouping can ride the wave will win. The one thing we can predict for our political future is that it will be unpredictable.

MargettsHelen Margetts the Director of Oxford Internet Institute and professor of society and the internet at the University of Oxford. Peter John is professor of political science and public policy at University College London. Scott Hale is a data scientist at the Oxford Internet Institute and a faculty fellow of the Turing Institute. Taha Yasseri is a research fellow in computational social science at the Oxford Internet Institute, a faculty fellow at Turing Institute, and research fellow in Humanities and Social Sciences at Wolfson College, University of Oxford. The four collaborated on the book Political Turbulence: How Social Media Shape Collective Action.

Paula S. Fass: Hillary Clinton and the politics of motherhood

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By Paula S. Fass

It was clear from the beginning of Hillary Clinton’s 2016 campaign that the “woman issue” was going to play a large part, with an emphasis on shattering glass ceilings. What was not clear until the convention was the degree to which this would be centered on mothers and mothering. The Democratic National Convention showcased many things, including American multiculturalism and patriotism, but nothing was as prominent as the emphasis on mothers and motherhood.

In many parts of the convention, the mothers of young people who were either victims or heroes were a featured part of the proceedings. Clinton’s most personal discussion in her acceptance speech was about her mother, Dorothy. Chelsea Clinton’s introduction was all about Clinton’s role as a mother and grandmother. The video introducing Mrs. Clinton showcased her work with the Children’s Defense Fund. Motherhood was everywhere in the convention – a glowing and effusive tribute not to women per se but to women as mothers. Not since the early twentieth century, when women’s public presence and their striving for the vote was geared toward the protection of children and families, has motherhood been so prominently featured in politics. Drawing on this older tradition, through which women influenced public affairs, Clinton spoke to ideals of protection for families and social inclusion. Clinton and her campaign hope to make these ideals just as appealing today.

Donald Trump made this an easy choice for Clinton and the Democratic Party. He has presented himself as someone who is not only self-consciously macho, but who wants to serve as a kind of disciplinarian for the society, a law and order candidate who strives to take command, and an authoritarian father who will fix what ails us as a nation. In a contrary symbolic move, Hillary Clinton presentation of herself in the guise of motherhood and her emphasis on the softer, more inclusive aspects of national culture became an almost predictable response.

But more than symbolism is at stake. As Donald Trump was increasingly portrayed during the Democratic National Convention as not in tune with American values, as ignorant of American history and untutored in constitutional principles, Democrats emphasized the degree to which our family values are also our national values. And here they had a substantial base to work from. Since the beginning of the American republic, American child rearing has encouraged a much more democratic ethos between the generations, one that saw children as having not only a role to play, but the right to a voice in family deliberations. In the family as well as in the society, Americans de-emphasized hierarchy and saw children as resourceful and independent. In a democracy, children would learn early to guide their own futures.

Since the early nineteenth century, mothers have played a much more conspicuous part in family affairs. Americans rejected patriarchy in their family relationships since almost the start of national identity and, ever since, have inscribed these views of family life as a basic resource of national life. This does not mean that there were not families where fathers emphatically ruled and were authoritarian and dictatorial, but these traits were rejected as norms of the culture. In the nineteenth century, mothers, not father were believed to guide their children toward morality and social conscience in an individualistic society; in the twentieth, child rearing advisors believed that mothers could be enlisted to make sure that children were healthy and psychologically well adjusted. In an individualistic society, with an emphasis on competition and winning, the family provided necessary ballast.

Hillary Clinton and the Democratic National Convention have used this history to great effect, showcasing an American tradition of family democracy and making the strong connection between American family life and American political life. The resonance was clear in the enthusiastic reception at the convention. It will also provide the late summer and fall campaign with a substantial basis for appealing to Americans across the country. It is revealing that the first woman seriously to be considered for the American presidency (and the likely first female President) will have chosen to appeal to the public on the basis of this fundamental national experience rather than the overt feminism that she embraced as a First Lady with an office in the West Wing. Donald Trump made Hillary Clinton’s choice easy, but American history made it obvious.

FassPaula S. Fass is professor of the Graduate School and the Margaret Byrne Professor of History Emerita at the University of California, Berkeley. She is the author of The End of American Childhood: A History of Parenting from Life on the Frontier to the Managed Child.

 

Highlights from the Election 2016 Blog: What’s next?

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This election season, Princeton University Press has been featuring discussion from a variety of authors on the candidates and issues. Here is an overview of the fantastic posts we’ve featured to date. Is there something you’d like to see discussed here? Tweet your suggestions to @PrincetonUPress

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Paula S. Fass wrote on Why Hillary Clinton Doesn’t Get the Youth Vote as well as why she thinks that Young Americans need required national service.

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Amy Binder addresses the surprisingly inciting tactics of Republicans in the past in The Provocative Politics of the Republican Party.

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George C. Edwards III explicates the important traits and knowledge necessary to any candidate in What do We Really Want in a President?

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Thomas Knock lists major books about presidents and politics in his article, Classic Presidential Reads.

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Lynn Vavreck examines John Kasich’s campaign and the power of television ads in Can Kasich Accentuate the Positive?

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Wendy Schiller talks about how other elected positions will affect the winning candidate in her article, The Supreme Court and the battle for the U.S. Senate.

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Jason Stanley discusses how Clinton has accused Sanders of being A Single Issue Candidate and in another article speaks on Donald Trump and Mass Incarceration.

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Simon Reich looks at each of the major candidates and their experience on foreign policy in his article, Does it matter who wins the election when it comes to the Middle East?

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Jonathan Zimmerman contrasts the secrecy and unreliability that follow Hillary Clinton against the undeniable authenticity of Bernie Sanders in his article on Hillary Clinton and the Perils of Authenticity.

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Zoltan L. Hajnal discusses how despite creating controversy and outrage over his racist and sexist remarks, Trump has only gained popularity, in his article on how Trump’s strategy is nothing new for the GOP.

The Loneliness of the Black Republican

Leah Wright Rigueur discusses the disappointing suspension of Rand Paul’s campaign in Rand Paul’s failed appeal to black voters.

When Movements Anchor Parties

Daniel Schlozman questions why all of the Democratic party’s support has gone to Hillary Clinton in Why Bernie Sanders is getting movements’ cold shoulder.

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Jason Brennan insists that our notions about democracy are completely unreliable in his article, Our relationship to democracy is nonconsensual.

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Ellen Wu on the issue of a ‘model minority’ and Nikki Haley’s current position in that political stereotyping in her post, Nikki Haley and the American Dream.

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Nancy Woloch speaks about women’s healthcare and the laws currently being considered that may negatively affect women nationwide in The Explosive Potential of the Whole Women’s Health Case.

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Nicholas Bloom discusses poverty housing programs and how presidential candidates have recently been addressing these areas in The Perilous Politics of Housing Poor People.

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Chirstopher Kutz points out how loudly the silence of candidates’ speaks on drone strikes and taking responsibility for them in his article Drone warfare: The real moral debate.

 

Jason Stanley: How free market ideology perverts the vocabulary of democracy

Election_Blog_Series_Banner2[1]By Jason Stanley

This essay appears simultaneously in Aeon Magazine and is republished with permission in our Election 2016 series

Citizens of the United States are quite taken with the vocabulary of liberal democracy, with words such as ‘freedom’ and ‘democracy’, which conjure key democratic values and distance the nation from the Old World taint of oligarchy and aristocracy. It is much less clear, however, that Americans are guided by democratic ideals. Or that ideology and propaganda play a crucial role in concealing the large gap between rhetoric and reality.

In truth, the Old World systems have proved extremely difficult to shrug off. In their 2014 paper, Martin Gilens and Benjamin Page argue that, as in an oligarchy, ordinary US citizens have no ‘substantial power over policy decisions [and] little or no independent influence on policy at all’.

Moreover, the US regularly subscribes to a form of managerial aristocracy. In Michigan, Governor Rick Snyder successfully replaced the mayors and city councils of several cities with ‘emergency managers’ supposedly able to negotiate financial emergencies better than elected officials. In the current presidential race, Hillary Clinton advertises her managerial expertise via the language of policy, while Donald Trump parades his via the language of business. Neither language is democratic. Neither invites self-governance.

Why is there no outcry about these oligarchical and aristocratic methods? Is it because plutocrats have power over the mechanisms of representation and repression? Is it, in short, about power? In my view, power can’t explain why voters are so enthusiastically voting for the very people who promise the least democratic outcomes. Nor are Americans knowingly rejecting democratic ideals. Instead, I see an anti-democratic ideology at work, inverting the meaning of democratic vocabulary and transforming it into propaganda.

Consider the example of mass incarceration in the US. Black Americans make up around 13 per cent of the population, but around 40 per cent of country’s ballooning prison population. Even if we assume, falsely, that black American crime rates justify this disparity, why is the state so punitive? Shouldn’t citizens instead be motivated to address the underlying socio-economic conditions that lead to such dramatic differences in behaviour between equals?

In The New Jim Crow (2010), Michelle Alexander argues that a national rhetoric of law and order has long justified mass incarceration. President Richard Nixon used it to crack down on black Americans under the cover of an epidemic of heroin use; this continued in the 1980s, as a merciless ‘war on drugs’ whose victims were all too often black men. In the US, the ideology of anti-black racism takes the view that blacks are violent and lazy, thereby masking the misapplication of the ideals of law and order.

Compare the ‘war on drugs’ to the current heroin crisis among middle-class white Americans, which has led to a national discussion of the socio-economic distress facing this class. Law and order doesn’t come into it. ‘The new face of heroin’ is new because, unlike the old face, it calls out for an empathetic response, rather than a punitive one. Now that heroin is ravaging white communities not black ones, the language of law and order (deemed appropriate to keep blacks in their place) has been retired. More significant still is that while the ideals of law and order preclude their unequal application, the propaganda of law and order does not: Americans were thus prevented from seeing the disguised gradient of law and order by racist ideology.

But what is the flawed ideology masking the misapplication of democratic ideals? Let’s bring it out by exploring the most cherished US democratic ideal, the ideal of freedom – popularly embodied in attacks on ‘big government’. Voters are repeatedly told that ‘big government’ is the primary source of coercion that limits freedom, which it certainly sometimes does, as the Patriot Act reminds us. But corporations also limit civic freedom in significant ways.

For example, corporations are leading direct attacks on the freedom to collectively bargain. Via outsourcing, free trade agreements allow corporations to move jobs to countries where labour is cheap; meanwhile, as a result of pressure from the conservative non-profit Citizens United, corporations can fund political candidates, thereby increasing corporate control of government. The weaker a government is, the more power corporations have over it. Across the political spectrum, there is anger that government is too influenced by industry lobbyists.

Voters concerned about government – as opposed to corporate – constraints on freedom are under the grip of what I will call a free market ideology. According to that ideology, the world of capital is by its nature free. All other substantial freedoms, including political freedom and personal freedom, are made possible by the freedom of markets.

Why do citizens who cherish freedom as an ideal vote to constrain their own freedoms by increasing the power of corporations? It’s because free market ideology masks the ways in which corporations deploy undemocratic modes of coercion. When a corporation bans employees from expressing, outside of work, opinions it disapproves of, this is seen as a legitimate protection of its economic interests. If workers have to sign non-disclosure contracts that silence them after they are employed elsewhere, it’s accepted as the cost of doing business.

The contradictions here are telling. If our most basic freedoms are self-expression and choiceful action, then corporations frequently limit our most basic freedoms. In liberal democratic theory, it is government that is regarded as the protector of such rights. But it’s precisely because government is attacked in the name of freedom that corporations have vastly greater power to constrain and shape it.

Free market ideology uses democratic vocabulary as propaganda, obscuring a non-democratic reality. Take education. In a liberal democracy, education equips citizens with the tools and confidence to weigh in on policy decisions and play a role in their own self-governance. Hence, democratic education is at the very centre of democratic political philosophy, as the philosophies of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, W E B Du Bois, John Dewey and Elizabeth Cady Stanton attest. But the US rhetoric surrounding education is explicitly anti-democratic. Citizens prefer ‘efficient’ education systems that train children to perform vocational tasks, rather than education that fosters community, autonomy and civic participation.

The rhetoric politicians use when running for office is usually explicitly anti-democratic. Managerial culture is paradigmatically undemocratic: a CEO is like a feudal lord. But if markets are zones of freedom, then CEOs ought to be its representatives. Free market ideology also explains why, when politicians with great wealth run for office, voters are not put off by the threat of oligarchy: wealth is acquired in markets – which are the source of freedom. Finally, free market ideology explains why voters so easily give up their right to hold institutions accountable to experts who promise ‘efficiency’. Efficiency is the ideal of business, and business is the engine of the market – again the source of freedom.

Free market ideology has perverted democratic vocabulary, transforming it into propaganda that, in turn, obscures an anti-democratic reality. Yet there’s hope that voters have wised up to this and begun to challenge party elites. Such moments of awareness feel dangerous but offer great opportunities. Voters are using the proper tool – elections – to make their concerns heard. Will anyone listen?

Stanley jacketJason Stanley is the Jacob Urowsky Professor of Philosophy at Yale University. He is the author of Knowledge and Practical Interests, Language in Context, and Know How. His latest book is How Propaganda Works, recently released by Princeton University Press.

Nicholas Dagen Bloom: The Perilous Politics of Housing Poor People

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By Nicholas Dagen Bloom

The rolling disaster of America’s urban poverty housing programs is evident in the packed homeless shelters, tent encampments, high rent burdens, lead poisoning, frequent evictions, and public housing disinvestment featured widely in American newspapers, books, and television shows. The differences in housing conditions that once separated big American cities (such as New York from Los Angeles) are much less important than they were a decade or two past.

To shore up their urban base, the Democratic presidential candidates even made quick visits to public housing developments in New York City, an acknowledgement of a new urban housing crisis in both the quantity and quality of housing. The candidates showed genuine concern, looked earnestly at the damage caused by decades of federal disinvestment, and reminded voters of their generous housing platforms.

Both candidates know that it won’t be easy. Liberals with national ambitions and power who support housing programs have wrestled with the issue of housing poor people for decades. They want to help, but they understand that most Americans distrust direct federal housing programs for the poor. And housing the poor, on its own merits, comes with many liabilities.

President Franklin Roosevelt, under intense pressure from his New York base, may have created the first permanent public housing multifamily program in the United States (the Housing Act of 1937) for the third of the population that was “ill housed”, but he also believed most “families should have individual homes . . . however modest.” His public housing program, attacked by conservatives as “creeping socialism,” thus remained comparatively small and stingy. Roosevelt’s Federal Housing Administration proved, in time, nationally popular as it made single-family homes more affordable, operated in an indirect manner on the housing market (mortgage insurance), left private builders and owners almost entirely to their own devices (redlining), and focused almost exclusively on the lower/middle class rather than the urban poor. The success of the FHA in helping build suburbia in the 1940s and 1950s undermined the mass support for public housing because most of the middle-class got their dream homes.

Roosevelt’s successor, President Harry Truman, made public housing a national priority in the context of a temporary postwar housing shortage, winning the Housing Act of 1949 that called for 800,000 public housing units. Yet the Korean War emergency, which slashed public housing subsides dramatically, stretched those targets out over a decade. As the postwar housing shortage eased in the 1950s, as private builders created miles of affordably priced suburban single-family homes, it was primarily in big cities where residual support for public housing remained, often for purposes related more to commercial redevelopment than humanitarianism.

Even many dedicated liberals wavered in their faith as the public housing towers rose in the 1950s and 1960s. Liberal Republican Governor Nelson Rockefeller (R-NY), in an address to the NAACP in 1962, admitted that subsidized housing “has been building up social and economic problems even more serious that the problems it was expected to solve” including racial and social segregation. And while Rockefeller himself remained committed to big government housing programs, building more housing than any New York Governor then or since, subsidized housing figured very little in his national appeal. Most of his state housing programs, even for the poor, also relied on public/private partnerships.

By the 1960s, the “projects” had taken on their full range of negative connotations even though in cities like New York they provided a necessary form of permanent low-cost housing for the urban poor and working class (and still do today). Most American politicians of both political parties ran from programs like public housing, substituting a complicated mix of subsidies for private interests in the low-income housing field.

Many of these new public/private programs proved, in many respects, quite successful. Richard Nixon ended new public housing in 1973 and introduced vouchers (Section 8) in private housing to de-concentrate poverty concentration. Ronald Reagan slashed direct housing programs but signed off on the new Low Income Housing Tax Credit (LIHTC) which gave tax breaks to corporations who invested in new affordable housing serving income levels generally higher than public housing. The 1990s and Bill Clinton will best be remembered for the Hope VI program which paid for the knocking down and redeveloping public housing as privately run, mixed-income communities.

Even the meltdown of the private housing market during subprime financial crisis in 2007 did not lead to a new era of direct government housing despite the fact the poor, or those just above the poverty line, were far more likely to be victims of predatory schemes and evictions. Presidents Bush and Obama secured trillions to stabilize the big private or semi-private players in housing market (the FHA, Freddie Mac, Citibank, Bank of America, etc.) so that the private market could continue as the primary housing provider for all American households.

Americans on the whole today thus remain well served by the private housing market, but the poor, and those living in expensive cities in particular, face a bleak housing future in the privatized affordable housing system.

Hillary Clinton, now the presumptive Democratic nominee and the only liberal likely running this fall, has endorsed a mix of portable Section 8 vouchers, additional tax credits for affordable housing, home ownership subsidies, and renovation of urban housing. These notable initiatives share in a well-worn path of minimizing direct federal involvement. And tested programs like these are likely to improve the lives of many poor people, particularly those lucky enough to use these programs to find housing in higher-income neighborhoods. But American politicians, even liberals, have yet to face the hard truth that to do right by the poor may take a lot more than more subsidies of private interests.

There is a large and growing population in and around cities that needs permanent, basic housing as a prerequisite to getting their lives in order. Existing large-scale low-cost government run housing for the poor such as public housing (or supportive housing with social services on site) is complicated to manage, a public relations quagmire, and often very expensive to build right and preserve. Yet we are already paying embarrassing amount to house the homeless and poor in “temporary” institutional settings such jails, hospitals, and shelters. Preserving what public housing is left (such as the 178,000 units of public housing in New York) and building more decent, very low-cost housing remains a standing invitation for federal officials—should they accept the responsibility.

BloomLasnerNicholas Dagen Bloom is associate professor of social science and director of the Urban Administration program at New York Institute of Technology. His books include Public Housing That Worked: New York in the Twentieth Century. His most recent book is from Princeton University Press is Affordable Housing in New York: The People, Places, and Policies That Transformed a City.

Christopher Kutz on drone warfare: The real moral debate

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By Christopher Kutz

Despite all the sound and fury of the Presidential primary campaign, the candidates have been effectively silent on one issue: our use of drone strikes as the central tool of security policy. Perhaps they could watch Eye on the Sky, by director Gavin Hood. The film vividly imagines two nations’ officials confronting a classic military dilemma, whether to kill an enemy at the risk of civilian life. In the movie, British officials, using drone-based cameras, have identified the home of two al-Shabbab terrorist leaders (one of whom is a British woman) in Kenya as they prepare young militants for a suicide terrorist mission. Given al-Shabbab’s history, which includes the attack on a Tanzanian shopping mall, the British officials have good reason to suspect an attack against large numbers of civilians. Because local forces are unable to storm the compound, the officials request support from an American drone with a Reaper missile.

The movie’s theme is that while drone technology appears to make war ethically easier, by reducing risks to civilians and soldiers, it mainly shifts the scene of responsibility, from the battlefield to the conference room and control center. The movie gains its dramatic power by reintroducing the dilemma, in the form of a little girl who comes to sell bread outside the compound during the crucial moments. The British and American officials and drone operators must now decide how to weigh the likely death of this concrete and identified girl against the unidentifiable civilians who might be killed in a terrorist attack. The film very effectively personalizes this debate by foregrounding a few of the officials and soldiers with clear views, for and against the strike, against the majority of officials who seek only to refer judgment to other layers and departments in government. (The movie indulges in a – perhaps accurate – stereotype of Americans as callously decisive and Brits as hand-wringingly nuanced and unsure.)

Eye on the Sky is right to remind us that the ethical dilemmas of war survive the shift to drone warfare. But I believe it makes a dangerous mistake about the real ethical problem with drones. The real problem is not that officials are too rarely courageous or principled. The problem is that we citizens have given up our own responsibility for the choices of war. What ought to be a wrenching decision for a democracy, about when to kill foreigners in pursuit of its interests, has been confined within the consciences of a few.

Few doubt that a state can use lethal force in the classic circumstances of national self-defense, with an invader at the border or missiles and bombs raining in. But drone campaigns are not like this: they involve decisions made through national security bureaucracies about killing people (or categories of people) identified through disparate intelligence as members of hostile networks, whose hostilities are often directed not at the US but at local and temporary allies of US security policy. According to public information, far from strapping suicide vests onto would-be martyrs or assembling dirty bombs, most of the targets identified in intelligence or surveillance reports are, essentially, young men with rifles. What used to be a strategic decision to go to war, with Congress involved and citizens rallied, has become a matter of executive decision making at the tactical level, made by the President and his security team, and the director of the CIA.

The personalization of the decision to kill is not unique to the drone program: special forces killing teams have been part of US security policy for decades. But the emergence of drone warfare has both let the policy of secret killing come out of the shadows on the one hand, while keeping it even more deeply in the shadows in another respect, placing it largely within the confines of the CIA, with White House oversight. While even former CIA Director Michael Hayden acknowledges the myth of the surgical strike, since inevitably non-combatants, including women and children are killed, the lesson we citizens are asked to accept is that these are difficult but reasonable choices for the President, not for us.

We should fear the loss of our accountability as citizens more than the myth of the surgical strike. Presidents and CIA advisors, not to mention drone operators, may well agonize over the potential deaths of innocents. But I fear our own complacency, in wanting these dilemmas to be theirs, and theirs alone. The deaths of civilians and militants alike belong to us as citizens, and we must be prepared as citizens to deliberate about our killing policy, and accept its consequences. Instead, the complicity of the media in personalizing drone warfare keeps us citizens in a fraudulent innocence.

How can we stop the fraud we are perpetrating on ourselves? We must put ourselves in the imaginary position of the drone warriors, and come to think of ourselves as making the decision when to kill. President Obama has done little to make good on his promises of greater transparency in the drone program. To the extent the primary candidates have addressed the issue at all, Bernie Sanders has said only that he would seek to use drone strikes rarely, while Hillary Clinton has praised drone strikes as a critically effective counter-terrorism tool. Meanwhile, the rhetoric of Ted Cruz and Donald Trump, on “carpet bombing” and killing terrorist families, does not suggest much reticence on their parts. Only John Kasich has offered a specific position that moves in the right direction: to effectuate the transfer of the drone program from the CIA to the Pentagon — a shift that was promised two years ago by President Obama but later abandoned. Such a move would work to increase accountability for drone killings, and to locate decisions within an institution historically better suited to considering legal and ethical limitations on the use of force. (Recall that the use of torture in interrogation was much more firmly resisted by military than CIA officials.)

We need to force our candidates, and our media, to do better than this, to discuss what we citizens must know if we are to take honest responsibility for the deaths of the children and other bystanders in our security policy. While Eye on the Sky does a terrific job of provoking a debate on the way out of the movie theatre, we need a debate that extends all the way to the voting booth.

kutz on war and democracy jacketChristopher Kutz is the C. William Maxeiner Distinguished Professor of Law and director of the Kadish Center for Morality, Law, and Public Affairs at the University of California, Berkeley. He is the author of Complicity: Ethics and Law for a Collective Age.