There has been a lot of discussion within progressive circles
recently about whether Barack Obama’s candidacy poses a real threat to
the political establishment. Of course, he has won the hearts and minds
of the grass roots liberal and progressive communities, but can a person
who has advisers like former national security advisors Zbigniew
Brzezinski and Anthony Lake, former assistant secretary of state Susan
Rice, and former navy secretary Richard Danzig really be that much of a
revolutionary? I use this excerpt from Wolves,
to remind us that the threat isn’t necessarily the candidate, but the
flow of political reformist insurgents they bring into the party
apparatus.
“The two-party system was never anything, just two
political factions fighting over jobs, money, influence and power. We
have only one political party, the Party of Property, which has two
right wings: Republican and Democrat, and that’s it. There are no great
differences.”
Many of you will be familiar with this verbiage, long has it been the
mantra of the great American novelist and political commentator, Gore
Vidal. This is the way he put it to me during our interview just a year
after George Bush began his second term in the White House.
Vidal’s indictment of the American political system does not exist in
a vacuum of conspiratorial anti-establishmentarianism. In fact, it is
exactly because of the way that Democrats and Republicans have ganged up
on third party candidates that “bipartidism,” the academic term used to
describe a two-party system, has evolved into a pejorative.
The bipartidism critique focuses on the control of the two-party
system by a myth in which Democrats are supposedly the party of the
people, while Republicans are the agents of establishment power. The
parties, critics assert, use hot button or wedge issues like abortion or
health care reform to compartmentalize the political discourse, while
ultimately supporting economic policies that favor their true
constituents, the wealthy and corporate elites in the country. Writing
in his book Contours
of Descent, economist Robert Pollin noted dryly, “the general
requirement of product differentiation in an electoral market entails
that, at the margin, any Democratic president will offer more social
concessions than a Republican of the same cohort. But we should be
careful not to make too much of such differences in the public stance of
these two figures, as against the outcomes that prevail during their
terms of office.” Pollin’s book targets the supposed ’90s “boom” under
Bill Clinton, explaining that, even while Clinton was seen as a friend
of the poor, his policies actually did more to harm average workers
whose wages stagnated as they faced more job insecurity than under his
Republican predecessor, Bush Sr. So, the theory goes, while modern day
political leaders trade off their party’s conservative or liberal legacy
to keep voters entranced, in reality, as country music legend Waylon
Jennings once said, “There ain’t a dime’s worth of difference between
them.”
That wouldn’t have surprised American historian and political
economist Walter Karp, who analyzed a century of collusive political
scheming in his hard-to-find volume Indispensable
Enemies. Karp’s book exposes a political system run at both
state and federal levels by “party bosses” whose sole mission is to
maintain control of their party organization. With their power and
wealth dependent on the measure of influence these bosses exert on their
parties, Karp explains “every elected official is a potential menace.”
Thus, American political history can be viewed through a radically
different lens, especially in those instances when, as Karp alleges,
bosses have purposely lost elections in order to protect themselves from
internal threats in the form of “insurgent” candidates. Citing examples
that span from the late 1800s right through to the early 1970s, Karp
argues that once reformist candidates win office, they often turn their
attention to the corrupt party machine itself.
With the support of the electorate, there is nothing to stop them
from “attempting to oust local party leaders, from bringing new men into
the party ranks, from passing reforms that weaken the party
organization, from winning public support so strong that the
organization cannot deny him renomination… There are times, therefore,
when losing an election becomes an absolute necessity.”
Extrapolating these Machiavellian tactics to the broader state and
national political scenes, where Republicans and Democrats portray
themselves as ideological enemies, Karp is no less thorough in his
deconstruction. Looking back over seventy years of political action, he
points to the fact that in most states the relative power — ie. minority
or majority status — of each party had remained virtually unchanged.
How can this be, he asks, if the sole purpose of each party organization
is presumably to do all they can to win elections? Can the party
organizations in their respective districts simply fail that
consistently to field winning candidates without a major overhaul?
According to Karp, it’s common sense. For party bosses whose real
concern is not winning, but maintaining power, it is far more important
to strike alliances with their supposed opposition so that they can
collaborate in maintaining and protecting each other’s base of power.
Karp uses the failed insurgency of Democratic Senator
Eugene McCarthy to illustrate this dynamic. After the assassination
of Robert
Kennedy, the Democratic Party bosses had a problem. McCarthy
stepped into the campaign and channeled the energy of the Kennedy
delegates into his own reformist campaign. Young students and hippies
traveled across the country, cutting their hair and going door-to-door
for their candidate under the slogan “Get clean for Gene.” Worried about
the destabilizing influx of new party activists, Karp contends, the
bosses decided to push “party hack” Senator
George McGovern, who would put forward his own reformist agenda to
splinter McCarthy’s rank and file. Then, using their power at the party
convention to engineer the Democratic presidential nomination for Hubert
Humphrey, despite the fact he had not won a single primary, the bosses
threw the election to stem the tide of reformist idealism that was
sweeping through the party. As Karp explains, a victory “could only make
genuine insurgency more promising to many and encourage yet more
newcomers to enter active politics. On the other hand, a defeat… would
strengthen the party oligarchy considerably. Newcomers to active
politics would be crushed with disappointment, branded as losers and
quickly returned to private life.”
Beyond their mutual need to protect each other’s control of the party
organization, the party bosses must ensure that the economic support
base—namely, their wealthy and corporate donors, many of whom spread
their charity to both parties—is not harmed by a reformist candidate.
Karp even goes as far as saying that since the authority for policing
elections and operating election machinery is left to the state
parties—who are assumed to be rivals—the opportunity for colluding in
vote fraud, in the case of an upstart victory, is very real.
Of course, many of America’s best-loved presidents have campaigned
and won on a tide of populist hope. But Karp spills a good flow of ink
to show how programs like FDR’s New Deal and LBJ’s Great Society were
powerful rhetorical vehicles that, upon reaching Congress, were
subjected to a scheme of self-sabotage in which one wing of the
victorious party — the obstructionists — would play the role of bad cop
to the reformist wing’s good cop, thus shutting down much of the
original value of the platform.
While much of Karp’s analysis involves specific examples of
skullduggery and planned outcomes of various state and federal
campaigns, he also posits a larger, more far-reaching assertion about
the intent of these collusive political tactics. Karp was an
anthropologist and, in applying a macro lens to the phenomenon he was
exposing, discovered that, in order to protect its power, the
fundamental mission of the party machine was “to eliminate the political
condition that breeds independent ambition.” In other words, to
engineer in the electorate a sense of apathy or, as he puts it, a
“gratitude for small favors and a deep general sense of the futility of
politics.” While this claim is the most difficult to prove, it is
interesting to note that around the same time that Karp was writing Indispensable
Enemies, Harvard intellectual and foreign policy analyst Samuel
Huntington generated a report for the Trilateral Commission which warned
that the rise in radical consciousness and civil unrest during the
1960s would have long- term effects on the governability of American
society. More, he warned, it had endangered the establishment authority,
which was “based on hierarchy, expertise and wealth.” Aptly titled The
Crisis of Democracy, Huntington’s report reminded its readers
that “the effective operation of a democratic political system usually
requires some measure of apathy and noninvolvement on the part of some
individuals and groups.”
We don’t need to look much farther than the statistics on American
voter turnout to see that, whether inculcated by elites or from a
widespread sense of boredom, political apathy has always been a fact of
nature in U.S. politics. Addressing the media one week before the 2004
presidential election, Curtis Gans, the director of the Committee for
the Study of the American Electorate, told reporters that Americans are
“now 139th out of 172 democracies in the world in our level of voter
turnout…” In fact, the highly contentious 2000 election inspired a
turnout of approximately 106 million people, representing 54 percent of
the eligible voters. Comparing the turnout of voters to that of the
sixties era, he cited a long list of factors including “a lower level of
trust in our leadership than perhaps at any time” in American history.
Yet, while professing a general sense of pessimism about the future of
voting patterns, he did predict that the 2004 election would yield a
marked surge in people 30 and under. As it turned out, he was right.
[According to the Census Bureau, nearly half of all eligible voters
18-24 came out in 2004; up from 36 percent in 2000. With an increase of
over five percentage points, the youth were the biggest gainers of all
age groups. It’s no surprise, considering the heavy pressure on the rap
fans to “Vote or Die,” as a high profile national billboard campaign
featuring Hip Hop gangsters and divas warned. At election time, it was
the Democrats who ruled Generation Y with Kerry taking 56 percent of
votes cast by people aged 18-24, while Bush earned 43 percent.]