March 24, 1999
Democratic Unity
Masks a Hollow Core
By Peter Beinart, a senior editor at The New Republic.
Ever since the November elections, the conventional wisdom has been that the Democrats are up and the Republicans are down. The Republicans dislike the American public, and the feeling is mutual; the president's acquittal shattered their self-confidence; in a post-Cold War, postcrime, postwelfare America, they have no agenda. The Democrats, on the other hand, haven't been in such good shape in decades. In a post-Cold War, postcrime, postwelfare America, they have no liabilities.
In the meantime the Democratic and Republican presidential fields have taken shape. Yet hardly anyone seems bothered by the incongruity. How come the weak and demoralized Republicans have 11 contenders for their nomination, while the buoyant Democrats have two or maybe three?
The obvious explanation--that the Democratic field is tiny because a sitting vice president is in the race--doesn't explain much. When George Bush ran in 1988, he faced five primary opponents. Mr. Bush, like Al Gore, entered the race with all the advantages inherent in being second-in-command to a popular, if scandal-plagued, president. But heavyweights like Bob Dole, Jack Kemp and Pat Robertson took him on anyway, partly because they had the stature and political organization to make an upset thinkable (Mr. Dole and Mr. Robertson did beat Mr. Bush in Iowa), and partly because they represented constituencies willing to fight for their interpretation of the Reagan legacy. Contrast that with the Democrats of today. Mr. Gore has so few primary opponents because his party has barely any politicians of national stature, and because its liberal base is too weak and insecure to contend for the Clinton legacy.
President Clinton is credited with making the Democrats winners again, but his presidency has not done much for the party's bench. Most serious presidential candidates come from the Senate or the governors' mansions. Since Mr. Clinton took office, the Democrats are down 12 in the former and 13 in the latter. Popular revulsion at a year of Washington scandal and gridlock has created an opening in both parties for a 2000 presidential challenger from the states. That is part of the reason George W. Bush is leading the GOP pack; and if he hadn't jumped in, it's likely that Michigan Gov. John Engler, New York's George Pataki or Wisconsin's Tommy Thompson would have. And on the Democratic side? Nobody. The Democratic governor with the closest thing to a national reputation is Vermont's Howard Dean.
The story isn't much better in the Senate. Bob Kerrey thought about running, and having done so in 1992, he had at least the beginnings of an organizational and financial base. But he probably would have run to the right--attacking Mr. Gore for his refusal to bite the bullet on Social Security and Medicare reform. And running against American liberalism's sacred cows in a Democratic primary dominated by liberal activists would have been an exercise in masochism.
Just as the challenges in 1988 came from Mr. Bush's right, the obvious challenges to Mr. Gore lie on his left, from candidates willing to counter his New Democrat establishmentarianism with a dose of old-time religion. In particular, Mr. Gore's focus on suburban concerns, his support for the welfare-reform bill, and the administration's relentless cozying up to Wall Street leave him vulnerable to an opponent who charges him with abandoning the party's obligation to the poor. This is where Minnesota Sen. Paul Wellstone was heading last year with his Robert Kennedy-esque trip to Mississippi. And if Jesse Jackson runs, it will be his turf as well.
But considering that left-liberals still represent the Democratic Party's base, those are remarkably weak candidates. Mr. Wellstone (who decided not to run) is unknown nationally, and barely won re-election in 1996. Mr. Jackson (who is still deciding) is a respected party elder, but clearly past his prime as a candidate.
The lack of high-quality contenders is symptomatic of the party's basic weakness. If the grassroots were truly as confident and energized as the conventional wisdom suggests, they would have thrown up more rising stars during the Clinton years. In House Minority Leader Richard Gephardt the left actually had a potential candidate with the stature and resources to make a credible run. Yet it appears that labor was not willing to go all out for him in the primary. It has basically acquiesced to Mr. Gore's nomination, even though he stands for a pro-globalization agenda that it loathes. Bill Bradley, a New Democrat with an ideological profile similar to Mr. Gore's, seems to be basing his challenge more on personal style than on a battle over issues.
As the 1988 Republican primaries was a referendum on what Reaganism meant, the 2000 Democratic contest should be a battle over Mr. Clinton's legacy. Was that legacy the early Clinton attempts to expand the welfare state, or the later Clinton willingness to roll it back? Was it human rights or free trade? That debate is unlikely to take place.
The press, predisposed to view all public disagreement within a party as a sign of weakness, will likely see that as a sign of "unity." Yet it is actually a sign that, impeachment notwithstanding, the Democrats are still on the defensive. The party's liberal base is still not contesting Mr. Gore on the issues; six years of Clintonism have caused the party to lose its appetite for an ambitious agenda. Winning elections has become an end in itself.
By contrast, the Republican primary is likely to be noisy and caustic, with feelings hurt and dirty linen aired. The eventual nominee may be driven too far to the right and the convention may be unruly. But the GOP's willingness to host public battles over big issues--trade, immigration, taxes, abortion--means that the party feels a responsibility to do more than simply nibble around the edges of the status quo. And that suggests that the GOP is still the majority party, no matter what the polls of the moment may say.
interactive.wsj.com |
