Democrats’ choice: keep campaign promises or keep the filibuster

Gordon L. Weil

The Democrats are afraid.

They hold the presidency and control both houses of Congress. Yet they are afraid.

They fear passing their bills over the objections of united Republicans and exercising what history calls the “Tyranny of the Majority.”

Some voters, including supposed independents, say they favor compromise.  It the parties could agree, the threatened tyranny could be avoided. The federal government could produce broadly accepted policies.

But what if the minority party – right now, it’s the Republicans – chooses not to compromise but insists on opposing.  They may believe they could win the next election by steadfast opposition.  Compromise might help the Democrats, jeopardizing their chances.

Wait a minute.  The minority can simply be voted down if necessary and the Democrats can pass their proposals.  That’s the essence of majority rule in a democracy in which the people elect leaders to carry out their proposed agenda.

But that’s not the real system.  The Senate majority needs 60 senators to end debate on a bill and vote on it.  Forty-one senators can block a bill by a filibuster. No supermajority, no final vote.  The filibuster amounts to “Tyranny of the Minority.”

Some Democrats accept the filibuster, recognizing that someday they will be in the minority and they will want the same protection.  They cling to a weak version of majority control.  They accept minority control of major bills, even if the result can be gridlock, a failure of the political process.

A few members of either party may occasionally break ranks. For example, Sen. Susan Collins and a handful of other Republicans voted to end debate on a bill creating an independent commission to investigate the January 6 Capitol insurrection. By then, the GOP had obtained all of its demands on the bill.

But some GOP senators declared that no matter how satisfactory the bill, they would not support it.  The findings might make their former president and party look bad just before the next congressional elections. They filibustered successfully. Party before principle.

On the other side, at least a couple of Democratic senators promised to block a move to end the supermajority requirement.  They fear offending the Republican voters they need to get re-elected. Party before principle.  Maine’s Angus King is on the fence.

Still, the filibuster is fading. The Senate has eliminated it for judicial and other top level administrative appointments and many spending bills. Each party cut back selectively when it was in control.

Both sides seem to believe that the voters won’t care what they do either way. Congress may be held in low esteem as an institution, but its members keep getting re-elected.

Some senators suggest there’s no need to prevent minority rule, because sometimes compromise happens.  Or a “gang” – a small, bipartisan group often including one or both Maine senators – tries to draft a deal that can gain majority support.  Gang-built bills risk ultimate failure, because they may gain a majority but not 60 votes.

Compromise is impossible on issues like the Capital invasion, where it’s a yes-or-no choice.  And some bills, like voting rights, may be dead on arrival, because there’s no hope of getting to a supermajority vote.

Opinion in the U.S. is now deeply and sharply divided.  Both sides say they want to compromise, but that may mean in practice that the other side has to agree to their position.  That makes supposed bipartisanship a sham, not a joint effort to find a creative way of solving problems.

In the past, each house of Congress passed its own version of a bill and sent it to a formal Conference Committee composed of representatives of both parties from each house.  That meant the majority and minority parties might take part in extended negotiations to produce what would be a new bill.

Because there is no hope for a negotiated bill in a situation in which one party’s core policy is to oppose virtually anything proposed by the other party, the Conference Committee is a politically endangered species.

President Biden seems to get all this.  He pledged to seek compromise with the Republicans.  On the infrastructure bill, he has already cut about $500 billion from his original proposal.  The GOP counterproposal was for even less than former President Trump said was needed, not a basis for a bipartisan deal.

Next year’s campaign may focus on Biden saying, “Well, I tried to compromise, but I was blocked” and the Republicans taunting him with, “He didn’t keep his promise to compromise.” 

Biden tries to take advantage of his party’s control to enact a Democratic agenda on the theory that last year’s elections should have consequences. That may not happen on key bills without the Senate ending minority control. 

The question for the Democrats, who could kill the filibuster, is whether passing the Biden agenda is worth overcoming their fear of using their majority power. 

What ‘Black Lives Matter’ means depends on your politics

Gordon L. Weil

Quiz. The phrase “Black Lives Matter” means;

            (1) Blacks matter more than Whites or, alternatively, only Blacks matter.

            (2) Blacks matter as much as Whites.

            (3) Blacks matter at least somewhat.

It means Option (2) for many who believe that Blacks are entitled to as much respect as Whites, which they have not received, most glaringly at the hands of the police.   The phrase would also have worked as “Black Lives Matters, Too.”

Some are angered that the phrase suggests to them Option (1), that only Blacks matter or they count more than Whites, especially the police who place themselves in danger.  They offer a seemingly fair response that everybody matters equally – “All Lives Matter.”  

That’s what the Declaration of Independence said, though its drafters could not agree on stating, that Blacks matter at all, Option (3).  Later, the Supreme Court decided that Blacks by nature did not matter.

As the result of today’s differing definitions of the phrase, it has become politicized.  At the same time, it has increased sensitivity about how words, even when used without ill intent, may affect listeners or readers.  It’s not so much what you intend as what the listeners think you mean.

The word “woke” has come to mean becoming aware of the need to put an immediate stop to historic discrimination by government and community leaders.  Words from the past, which do not square with this recently expanding awareness, must be rejected.

That a racist or demeaning word was formerly a common expression should not shield its user from criticism. The sin of slavery was understood in 1776, so unrepentant slave owners back then are fair candidates for “woke” attention.

“Woke” has been challenged in the belief that a retroactive judgment is by its nature unfair.  Unless the person should have known they erred at the time, it’s not fair to condemn them now.  The split over the notion of “woke” has become political, if not partisan.

The huge English vocabulary is a further complication.  Increasingly, the absolutely correct choice of words is critical.  Some words may not fade slowly but may quickly disappear, because they cannot be used in any context.

In her excellent book entitled Words Matter, Sally McConnell-Ginet tells the story of an 88-year-old White man who used the word “Negro” in praising a Black baseball star from the past.  He revealed a lack of sensitivity to the audience and had to apologize for using a disappearing word he formerly spoke without hesitation or criticism.

The subtitle of McConnell-Ginet’s book is “Meaning and Power.”  We may pay too little attention to the power politicians give words and language.  Even brutal dictators Hitler and Stalin understood and used that power.

The phrase “Black Lives Matter” has power – for both sides. Those three words not only frame a national debate, they stimulate action.  Similarly, “antifa,” a fabricated word defining an organization that does not exist, is used to counterbalance the extreme right wing, composed of several organizations that do exist.

Words can have enormous power.  Take statements by U.S. Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene, a Georgia Republican right-winger.  She insists that the mandate to wear masks for a few months during the Covid-19 pandemic is just like the Holocaust that killed six million Jews.

Her intent is to agitate opponents of wearing masks by making them feel as though they were subject to an historic atrocity.  Not only did she ignorantly and dangerously appropriate somebody else’s history, but she has attempted to arouse civil conflict. All by the use of one word.

The common use of even a single word to send a political message, though much more benign, is illustrated by Maine’s U.S. senators.

Sen. Susan Collins benefits greatly from being called a “moderate.”  While she is less conservative on some issues than many of her fellow Republicans, does her occasional vote against the Republican Party line make her truly moderate or just slightly less extreme?  It may depend on which issues matter most to a voter.

Sen. Angus King is an “independent” because he belongs to no party.  Is he actively independent of the two major parties in the Senate?  While independent Mainers may like his label, he is in fact a member of the Democratic caucus, a practical necessity for his gaining good committee assignments.

The First Amendment protects Americans from government control over our words and what we do with them. Rep. Greene can say what she wants and, outside the limits of public safety, government can’t stop her.

But language belongs to the people, so words gain meaning from how we use them. Words can be powerful, and political leaders use them to be constructive, misleading or dangerous.

An unstated and obviously correct Option (4) for our quiz might be: “Words Matter.” 

Nationalism grows as world shrinks, undermining democracy and international agencies

 

Gordon L. Weil

As Covid-19 begins to wane, much speculation is devoted to the “new normal” that will emerge as life without hyper-caution returns.

But, on a grander scale, the world, which had accepted a new normal, is shifting back to the old normal.  Though that may seem beyond the daily lives of average people, it directly affects us.

After the World War II defeat of nationalistic and aggressive dictatorships, the winners began a movement to liberal democracy, in which the people rule, and toward cooperation among nations through international organizations.

The result was the growth of democratic governments, most notably in Western Europe, where two world wars had begun, and in parts of Asia.  The new normal worked as both Germany and Japan could achieve prosperity without military domination of other countries.

The United Nations began to function as a peacekeeping organization and Europe worked toward an economically interconnected community that would make impossible future wars among neighbors. The U.S. backed these efforts. 

American policy was based on the premise that prosperous democracies would be good partners and good customers, both helping to maintain a stable world order.  With strong allies, the U.S. could contain the Soviet Union, which otherwise would try to extend its authoritarian rule.

The new normal saw democracy rising, cooperation functioning and a group of nations, led by the U.S., able to reduce, though not eliminate, local wars. The high point of this international system came with the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991.  One philosopher concluded that the world had reached “the end of history.”

If there was ever an incorrect observation, that was it. There were countries and people the new normal simply did not suit.

China, with the world’s largest population in the fourth largest territory, rejected a militarily weak and economically poor position.  Increasingly, its authoritarian government became more assertive, financing its efforts at expansion using American dollars it had earned in trade.  It pursued more territory and more power.

Russia, the chief remnant of the Soviet Union, was offered the chance to join the community of democratic states.  Instead, its leaders lamented the loss of their power in world affairs. The government increasingly took outlaw steps to undermine the U.S.

The European Union made great progress toward integrating national economies, but its increased powers created some unhappy participants.  Cooperation slowed and national forces resisted regional decision-making. Trump scorned it, and the community weakened when the U.K. unwisely chose to withdraw, even at great cost to its economy.

That withdrawal, commonly known as Brexit, is symbolic of the rise of nationalism in many countries.  It grew partly from dislike of major domestic decisions made by foreign leaders and international organizations. Nationalism had not disappeared even while cooperation had grown.

Finally, in many countries, the prosperity that resulted from the new order left many people out.  The rich got richer, but many people became populists, believing themselves denied the benefits of the booming economy.

The U.S. remained the model of democracy. It was recognized as the only superpower, able to project its influence anywhere and at will.  Then, to its surprise, when Americans thought stability had been achieved, the U.S. suddenly found itself again at war as the result of the terrorists of 9/11.

Faced with the threat of terrorism and the aggressiveness of China and Russia, the U.S. joined in the trend toward nationalism.  Its revival became obvious under the Trump presidency, as international accords were abandoned. “America First” almost went as far as “America Alone.”  Healthy patriotism was being overwhelmed by unhealthy nationalism.

Support for Trump’s approach was sometimes written off as racist.  While it was clear his policies gave racists comfort, he capitalized on populism that readily blended with nationalism. People believed their country was exploited by other nations at America’s expense, failing to understand that world leadership imposes a cost.

President Biden is now seeking to revive the post-war new normal by rejoining the international community and trying to address the economic disadvantages of the middle class and poor.  Future elections will reveal if he can succeed.

Why does all this matter?

Thanks to the Internet and the airplane, the world has become a smaller place.  As much as globalism is under attack, it is inevitable.  Dictators, even in North Korea or Syria, can cause events that affect Americans.  What happens anywhere may have effects everywhere.

What people pay for clothing or electronics or taxes to support a huge defense effort are determined by global conditions.  When major nationalist powers rub against one another, the friction creates the risk of war.  Wars leave temporary winners and volatile losers, preventing stability.

The world is too small to allow for American withdrawal.  Nationalism is not the solution.