Shame on who

I hate to be doing this. Really, I do. One of the major gripes I've always had with the American left — of which, philosophically, I consider myself a member — is its tendency toward self-flagellation. It can seem like (and maybe is) the pitiful legacy of voguish socialism: enormous energy spent correcting the ideological "errors" of one's allies, precious little on countering the enemy. However. I am forced (forced, I tell you) to revisit Nicholas Kristof of the New York Times. I give you the following paragraph, from his column of November 17, 2004:

The central question of President Bush's second term is this: Will he shaft his Christian-right supporters, since he doesn't need them any more, and try to secure his legacy with moderate policies that might unite the country? Or, with no re-election to worry about, will he pursue revolutionary changes on the right?

In its own small way, this is a stunning passage. And so by way of response I offer the following comment from a friend:

For whom, exactly, is this a question?  Note the assumption inherent in “secure his legacy with moderate policies”: that moderate policies are in fact the stuff of securing one’s legacy.  How much more evidence does Kristof need to be convinced that George W. Bush is the Christian right, and that he fervently, unironically (was there ever a politician with less of a sense of irony?) believes that his hard right policies are what God wants and the American people (present and future) need, bitter medicine or no?  Kristof’s brand of thinking was forgivable back in 2000, when all the pundits announced, “With such a tenuous hold on the Presidency, given the electoral and popular vote, Bush will obviously have to lead an administration of great moderation (huff, chuff)... a sort of centrist ‘coalition government’ if you will (ahem, ahah)....”  Positing the same sort of hoo-hah in 2004 falls into “Fool me once, uh... shame me twice, er... no... shame me once... fool on me...” territory.

Kristof seems like a nice guy. An unbelievably nice guy — the kind who would, for instance, use personal funds to buy a teenage prostitute her freedom: downright saintly. But the latitude he's given both Bush and Bush supporters pushes "nice" to the territory of "chump." Anyone who witnessed Condi Rice's testimony before the 9/11 commission can't call her "honest" without having watched through some deeply rose-colored glasses. More to the point, there's something Pollyanna-ish about the question Kristof's posed here. Was there ever any doubt about the theme of a Bush second term?

Not among the evangelicals. They came out for the election, then they came out to strut — to let the rest of us know, in no uncertain terms, that they'd won the election for Bush (not necessarily true, but it's the stuff of myth now, so never mind), that they'd acquired sizeable IOUs in so doing, and that they fully intend to collect. The sanctimony has been thick.

The mistake Kristof makes — and he's not alone — is in thinking Bush was adopting a pose when he catered, during the campaign, to the right-wing evangelical base. This was not the pose. The pose was what he adopted to cater to moderates; "compassionate conservatism" — that was the pose. The first term, especially the first term post-9/11, revealed this pretty vividly. It's true that the Bush campaign trundled out the tired wheelbarrow of moderate promises for electioneering; and it's true that mainstream media, liberal and right-wing alike, dutifully assisted in sprucing up that wheelbarrow and making it roll. None of this changes the reality that was being disguised, and that should have been (and really, honestly, was) obvious to anyone paying attention.

This has been a revolutionary regime from its beginning. Note my friend's recollection of the punditry after the 2000 election: given the contentiousness of the process, conventional wisdom predicted moderation and centrism. It made sense if one assumed genuine intentions (a) to govern effectively, and (b) to build a national consensus. The actual intention was (c) to intensify and broaden the right-wing conversion experience of this nation. Appointments of Rumsfeld, Wolfowitz, Card, Rice, and Ashcroft telegraphed this; nominations to the federal bench confirmed it. (And one man's obstructionism is another man's principled stand against — hate to say it — an activist judiciary.)

Powell and No Child Left Behind provided window-dressing through the first term, as did occasional fictive references to the middle class in discussions of tax cuts. All were well and amply deployed — to the point, at least in Powell's case, of depletion. The pretense to moderation returned when it served political expedience; it was received and disseminated with credulity by a press desperate to counter blatantly partisan accusations of partisanship; and then it was tossed aside. This continued right up until the day after this year's election, when Kerry conceded and Bush flashed his gilded tease of an olive branch. The next morning, it vanished for good. "We'll work with those who support our goals," Bush announced, telling the truth at last.

So he has. So he will. Perhaps Kristof — spun, like the rest of us, so relentlessly by this administration — thought he was being twirled across the dance floor one more time. No such luck.

I would suggest the following, to Kristof and the rest of us: no more second chances. No more benefits of the doubt. More than ever, these men are what they are. While you wonder about their "legacy," they're off, in the words of one of their own, "creating new realities." Which is to say they're not catering to the revolutionaries, they are the revolutionaries.

The only real question is this: in four years, just how bad can it get? It would seem we're about to find out.