By David K. Shipler
According
to Sir Isaac Newton’s third law, for every action there is an equal and
opposite reaction—a principle of physics, of course, but also true in politics
and policy, at least currently in the United States. The country is moving in
two directions simultaneously, as if two revolutions in thinking and practice are
taking place, one progressing into a new era mobilizing government for economic
and social reform, the other pushing hard into an old indifference to social
injustice marked by blatant racial and class discrimination.
Although
the two revolutions frame their respective arguments around the size and role
of government, they are driven by more fundamental clashes of concept. At root
is the question of how inclusive a democracy should be, what problems it can
solve, how the common good should be defined, and how near or distant the
horizon of vision should be drawn.
Joe Biden, the 78-year-old
Washington insider, did not raise radical expectations when he took office just
over two months ago. He was forecast as a caretaker president who would
decompress the political atmosphere with boring normalcy. Instead, he has
quickly emerged as the unlikely catalyst of the most imaginative Democratic
movement in at least a generation, perhaps since the New Deal of Franklin
Delano Roosevelt. His aspirations are broad and intensely sophisticated,
forming an agenda that would apply expansive ideals in mobilizing the nation’s
expertise and financial power against the most vexing problems of race, class,
health, education, climate, environment, energy, communication, low-paid work,
elderly care, aging transportation networks, and just about every other failure
in the American landscape.
The opposite revolution would leave all the failures in place, unresolved, and would add to them. It is more than a counter-revolution, led by Republicans who have become more than the Party of No. They go beyond saying no to every advance—no eased voting, no true help for malnourished children, no cleaner air or water, no safer workplaces, no better health care, no sufficient funding for schools, no mandatory wages high enough to support families. The new Republicans—for they are new in the history of the Republican Party—do not merely stand still and block. They are moving at speed back in time.
Take access to the ballot box, now caught
up in the two competing revolutions. Last November, more Americans voted
in absolute numbers than ever before: 159,633,396, a 66.7 percent turnout, the
highest in 120 years. That was prompted not only by the high stakes of the
election, but also by the broadened opportunity that had been put in place over
decades and enhanced because of the risks of going personally to the polls
during the pandemic. Easier registration, early voting, mail-in ballots, and drop
boxes encouraged citizens to participate.
American history is pockmarked with
voting denials—aimed at women, at Blacks, at felons, at the poor. Breaking down
those obstacles has been part of a revolution that modern Democrats are continuing,
as illustrated in their voting rights bill passed by the House and stuck in the
divided Senate.
The more Americans who vote, the
less chance Republicans have of winning elections. That is the party’s obvious
calculation in introducing dozens of bills in state legislatures aimed at
making voting harder. Many strip power from local election officials who stood
as bulwarks against Trump’s effort to overturn his loss. Some, such as those
recently passed in Georgia, are so obviously designed to suppress the turnout
of Blacks that Biden has called them a return to the Jim Crow era, when legal
segregation included poll taxes, absurd intelligence tests, and outright
intimidation to prevent African-Americans from exercising their most basic
right.
The Republican-appointed majority
on the Supreme Court opened the door to this reverse revolution in 2013 by effectively
throwing out Section 5 of the 1965 Voting Rights Act, which required pre-clearance
by the Justice Department of any changes in voting procedures by states and
localities listed as having a history of discrimination. If the new laws
survive the conservative Court’s scrutiny, democracy would be severely wounded.
The Republican revolution is
pedaling backwards in many other areas. When it comes to fighting poverty, the
party retreats under the flag of victim-blaming, implying that the poor (most
of whom are white, by the way) are immoral and irresponsible and don’t want to work.
This stereotype underpins the patronizing and punitive approach of government
programs, and Democrats haven’t been immune to its pernicious effects. Witness
President Bill Clinton’s signature on the 1996 welfare bill that required
recipients to seek, train for, or obtain jobs, even when they weren’t available
or paid little.
But the moral fantasy resonates
more now with Republicans than Democrats. It’s why Republicans cheered when Donald
Trump imposed onerous obstacles to getting benefits such as SNAP, the food card
that keeps hungry Americans just barely afloat. It’s why congressional
Republicans opposed Biden’s additional $300 in weekly unemployment benefits,
arguing without evidence that recipients wouldn’t look for jobs—jobs that might
pay decently if Republicans hadn’t also refused to raise the federal minimum
wage, which has been $7.25 an hour since 2009. The old Soviet joke comes to
mind: We pretend to work, and they pretend to pay us.
That American Rescue Act, which
barely passed over unanimous Republican opposition, contains the seeds of a revolution
in itself: a $3,000 to $3,600 per year payment per child, even if you don’t
earn enough to pay taxes. The benefit begins to phase out at income levels of $112,500
for the head of a household and $150,000 on joint tax returns. It lasts only
one year, but if extended will mark a new role for government in providing a
guaranteed income minus the red tape that accompanies SNAP, housing subsidies,
and other programs.
Indeed, affordable housing would be
the single largest item--$213 billion—in Biden’s proposed $2 trillion
infrastructure plan, which would engage government in the broadest repair and
reform effort in generations. It would put federal dollars into promoting
electric vehicles; fixing decaying roads, bridges, airports, and ports; improving
public transit; expanding high-speed broadband; workforce development; and on
and on.
This is an unusually sensible time to borrow
money for such projects, with interest rates on government bonds ridiculously
low. If you need a new roof and have to get a loan, you know that this is the
moment. Why wait until rates go up, as they inevitably will? Yet Republican
Senate leader Mitch McConnell says without reading the legislation that every
Republican will vote no. One suspects that he and his colleagues don’t want
Biden to chalk up any achievements that will please American voters.
To be fair, there is a conservative
principle buried in the swamp of political rhetoric. Conservative Republicans
say they want to shrink government, make it less intrusive—unless governmental
power extends into a woman’s body by opposing her right to an abortion.
Conservative Republicans say they worry about the federal debt—except when they
don’t worry about it, by slashing taxes for the wealthy and the corporations as
they did gleefully under Trump, raising the debt by $7.8 trillion during his
four years. Conservative Republicans say they care about the future of children
and grandchildren—except when they don’t, by tolerating child malnutrition and poorly
funded schools.
And of course Republicans say they
care deeply about democracy—except when they don’t, by coddling the
anti-democratic extreme right and trying mightily to impede voting by American
citizens who they think will vote against them.
It’s anybody’s guess which revolution
will win. The United States is at a tipping point in its democratic norms, its
compassion for the less fortunate, its crumbling infrastructure, its millions
of untrained workers, its confrontation with embedded racism and misogyny. It
is a fateful hour.
Beautifully stated, Dave. I always wish that the Republicans would read your columns but I suspect they just can't bring themselves to do it!! In any case, this is a well-written, well-stated argument for moving forward. Let us hope that the Republicans fall into line at some point. But I guess they probably won't. It's sad. So long as the Dems can keep moving forward with Biden's amazingly progressive program, without McConnell and other Republican leaders, then all is pretty good, I guess - for now. Let us hope that they can keep moving forward. Thanks for this piece.
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