Under the Surface: Resonant Themes in American Political Culture
Certain resonant themes in American political culture cut across the ideological spectrum and across a variety of issues. They reflect widely held, deeply felt, sets of beliefs or values on the part of the public – and therefore represent a powerful means of shaping debate on public policy.
Accountability
Consider some of the big issues in the media during the past two years. The Enron scandal. The Catholic Church scandal. Federal budget deficits. Corporate access to elected officials. The abuse of Iraqis in Abu Ghraib prison. One common denominator in the public response to each of these topics is a concern with accountability, and an insistence that the holders of power act responsibly. Part of what’s driving this concern is a fear that the institutions of society – both corporate and governmental – have become so complex that it’s hard to know what’s going on behind closed doors. More fundamentally, the idea of accountability draws on a deep cultural tradition in which our political leaders are supposed to be answerable, ultimately, to the people who put them in office. Increasingly, Americans also want to know that their political leaders can be relied upon to keep the non-elected powerful accountable for their actions.
As
both an ethical principle and a practical matter of good governance,
accountability is thus a potent theme tying together some of the issues
on which people will base their voting behavior. A 2002 Democracy Corps
analysis < http://www.democracycorps.com/
Fairness
Few offenses are more offensive to the American spirit than unfairness. One of our central cultural ideals is the belief that people should be treated equally before the law, and that the things in life we can’t control (like ethnicity or gender or place of birth) shouldn’t be held against us. That ideal is routinely violated, of course, but the conviction that fairness really does matter remains unshaken. Kids learn it on the playground, employees expect it at work, juries try to uphold it in the courtroom, and voters – at some level – take it into account when evaluating candidates for political office. Countless organizations have named themselves after it: Fairness and Accuracy in Reporting, Workplace Fairness, Internet Tax Fairness Coalition, Fairness in Child Support, and many more. In public opinion polls, fairness consistently ranks among the highest virtues that Americans would like to see exercised by their elected leaders. Indeed, ethicist Sissela Bok has found that concern about fairness, however defined, is a common element in almost all cultures, as she described in her book,
Common Values.
Yet there are two related problems here. First, it’s not always clear what fairness really entails as a matter of public policy. Second, the reality of complex policies can easily get lost in the mist of rhetoric surrounding them. And since nobody has a monopoly on fairness, the theme can cut both ways for the political parties, depending on the issue in question, and how that issue is approached.
Affirmative action is a good example. Originally designed as way to help level the educational and professional playing fields, affirmative action garnered broad support because it appealed to people’s sense of fairness. In recent years, however, the pendulum has begun to swing the other way because opponents of affirmative action have been able to represent it as unfair to those it does not benefit. Are race-neutral or race-sensitive policies more fair? Good people can disagree on that question, but people can also use the rhetoric of racial fairness cynically. For that reason, it’s all the more important for the public to have reliable information and meaningful ways of making sense of that information.
A less ambiguous example – and a much more potent one this year – involves the ongoing cascade of corporate scandals. In this case, investors and employees (i.e., the little guys) got treated unfairly by corrupt executives and accountants, and politicians of all stripes are now jockeying for the high moral ground. The political consequences of this mess will turn in part on how effectively the broader context is communicated to the public. In general, conservatives have sought to minimize understanding of that broader context and to suggest that the scandals simply resulted from the bad decisions and malfeasance of a limited number of people. Progressives, by contrast, have tried to emphasize the bigger picture, citing a pattern of industry deregulation dating back to the Republican takeover of Congress in 1995 and pointing to a political culture that favors the well-connected rich. After all, it’s not just cooking-the-books that we’re talking about here. It’s the tax breaks, legal loopholes, and political access corporations enjoy that are making ordinary people believe the deck has been stacked against them.
A lot depends on where one locates the primary source of the unfairness – in the greed and short-sightedness of individuals, or in a political and regulatory system that has allowed those vices to flourish. It would be nice, of course, if human venality did not exist, but history provides little cause for optimism. Rather, the progressive position is to say that we need to improve the system to make it more equitable, to protect the little guy, and to hold accountable those who abuse their power or position. Articulating this position clearly and forcefully is not just good politics, but good for the country. It’s called fairness. We learned it in the school room and the living room – now let’s try to make sure it’s upheld in the board room and the corridors of power.
Trust
It's well known that polls
have shown, ever since the 1960s, a gradual decline in the American
public's trust in government and the media. The reasons for this decline
are complex, but the usual suspects include Vietnam lies, Watergate
lies, and the relentless anti-government rhetoric of modern conservatism.
Corporations have generally fared better (with the exception of the
occasional big scandal) but this year, clearly, the public's trust in
Wall Street has been badly shaken. It's not just that the markets and
regulatory systems didn't function properly, but that people feel betrayed
by other human beings. It's personal. But what does it portend? What
does it mean?
Consider it from this angle. The opposite of trust is suspicion, or
least a clear-eyed skepticism. These can be healthy attitudes in a society
where it sometimes seems that everybody's either trying to sell you
something or concealing their own motives and interests. Much good has
come from the work of investigative journalists, cultural critics, and
others who get beneath the surface of things by refusing to take what
they're told at face value. And to the degree that the general public,
in its wariness, avoids getting snookered by charlatans and con-men,
so much the better.
But an excess of suspicion is not good. In the first place, to be overly
suspicious is, oddly enough, to be naïve. Tossing out the whole barrel
because of a few bad apples (to use a metaphor currently in vogue) means
that a person is making a leap of faith, that they haven't bothered
to figure out what's really going on and what they can do about it.
In the second place, suspiciousness tends to have a corrosive effect
on society, alienating people from each other and from their representatives,
and thus undermining the ability of a democracy to function properly.
Trust is no less vital a quality in a republic than it is in a family.
It enables people to make sound decisions, to cooperate, and to contribute
to the common good.
So how are we supposed to walk the line? Which institutions, organizations,
or public figures should we trust? How far should we trust them? On
what criteria do we base such decisions? The answers, as they do in
one's personal life, all come back to two basic issues: experience and
information. Trust has to be based on long familiarity, built up over
years of observation and interaction. Only that kind of experience allows
one to understand another person's (or group's) motives, interests,
habits, and decision-making processes. One can then weigh this knowledge
against mere words. Does Exxon really care about the global enviroment?
Hmmm. At the same time, a receptivity to information provides a crucial
mechanism for checking whether our trust has been well placed. Lipstick
on the lapel? Time to reevaluate. The tricky thing with public figures
or impersonal entities like corporations is that, unlike friends or
family members, we only known them in a highly remote and mediated form
- except, perhaps, when they'Trust can leave people vulnerable, but
it's our best social bond and should not be lightly discarded. For a
complete loss of trust in our public institutions may pose a graver
threat to American democracy than do those who have proven themselves
unworthy of our trust. Those people in positions of power - journalists,
elected officials, business leaders - should step up to the plate and
take responsibility for creating and maintaining a system that we CAN
trust.
Security
For obvious reasons, the overriding political issue of the last year has been security – both national security and economic security. It is a remarkable paradox that the citizens of the world’s wealthiest and militarily strongest nation are showing feelings of deep insecurity: When and where will the next terrorist attack occur? How will my retirement account weather the next corporate scandal? Is the government doing all it can to protect my well-being – and what does that really mean? It is the insecurity of the king of the mountain, of those who by virtue of their success have the most to lose – like the glutted Roman general dimly fearful of assassination or reassignment to the Germanic frontier. At the same time, many Americans have immediate, more personal reasons for feeling insecure: unemployment, inadequate health care, discrimination, or poor local schools, to name just a few.
A desire for security – in the broadest sense of the word – may help to explain why President Bush’s approval numbers remain high, despite the fact that most of his policies remain unpopular and that the campaign against terrorism has met with only limited success. People need something to believe in, and when even baseball and Martha Stewart have been badly tarnished, the patriarchal figure of a “stern but caring” president seems an inviting place to repose our faith. In that sense, Americans’ insecurity might be likened to that of a privileged yet nervous child, seeking fatherly strength from one who will protect the home(land) – confronting intruders, admonishing the neighbors, reassuring us of our worth and safety. Though this country was born of a revolt against patriarchal authority, the desire for father figures has played a central role in our national culture, reasserting itself in times of crisis. Often those figures have been Presidents; but they have also included sports heroes (Joe DiMaggio), journalists (Walter Cronkite), preachers (Billy Graham), local politicians (Rudolph Giuliani), and others.
President Bush has two important advantages in this regard. One is institutional: our system of government has evolved to permit a strong executive, which means that all the ceremonial trappings and the real power of the office can be brought to bear in establishing his fatherly authority. The second is Bush’s personal inclination toward moral and philosophical simplicity. That can be more comforting than trying to negotiate a complicated reality with all its complicated problems and complicated solutions. Bush’s forte is that an analytical, thoughtful approach to interconnected systems and interdependent relationships is not his forte.
But actual security – on which psychological security has to rest – requires both us and our leaders to address the real complexity of our geopolitical and economic circumstances. We cannot play checkers (to borrow a useful cliche) in a world designed for chess, and to the extent that simplified political rhetoric produces simplistic approaches to the challenges we face, that is exactly what we are doing. The desire for security is natural and healthy – but not if it inhibits understanding. Thinking long-term, and acting in the here and now, have to go hand in hand. If we try to avoid the complexities of functioning in today’s world, we may find ourselves as individuals and as a nation less secure in the long run.
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