Paul Waldman

Paul Waldman is a weekly columnist and senior writer for The American Prospect. He also writes for the Plum Line blog at The Washington Post and The Week and is the author of Being Right is Not Enough: What Progressives Must Learn From Conservative Success.

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The Inequality of Water

(AP Photo)

People stand outside Detroit City Hall, protesting thousands of residential water-service shutoffs by Detroit's water department, during a rally in Detroit, Thursday, July 24, 2014.

Posted by guest-blogger Sam Ross-Brown.

Late last month, the City of Baltimore began notifying thousands of residents that their water may soon be shut off due to lack of payment. As Sarah Lazare reports for Common Dreams, residents owing more than $250 in payments going back at least six months were notified that they had 10 days to pay their bills in full or have their taps shut off. The number of residents who received a notice last month nears 25,000, though Food & Water Watch estimates that a full 75,000 Baltimore residents are in danger of losing running water in their homes.

What’s worse, the shut-offs serve to deepen the racial and economic divisions in a deeply unequal city. Baltimore’s poverty rate is nearly twice the rate nationwide while the cost for utilities like water has jumped more than 40 percent over the past three years. The shut-offs are set to disproportionately impact Baltimore’s large non-white majority, despite the fact that a few hundred businesses collectively owe more than $15 million in unpaid water bills to the city.

Baltimore’s threat to shut off its residents’ water supply echoes a similar move by the City of Detroit in the summer of 2014. As Kristen Doerer reported for the Prospect last August, city officials in Detroit shut off running water to some 17,000 residents who were behind on their payments, most of them poor and non-white. After an international outcry, and an unprecedented warning from the United Nations that the shut-off violated basic human rights, the city backed off. As in Baltimore, households represented the vast majority of water shut-offs, despite private businesses owing more than ten times as much on average.

Although the water crises in Baltimore and Detroit are not climate-based, the experiences of these cities have a lot to say about how the politics of scarcity may play out on a rapidly warming planet.

A case in point is California, which is now in Year Four of the worst drought it’s ever recorded. In response, state officials have mandated a 25 percent across-the-board cut in water use. But oddly, the new mandate exempted industries like agriculture and even fossil-fuel extractors, which together account for more than 80 percent of the state’s water consumption. As in Baltimore and Detroit, residents in California make up a small share of the state’s water footprint—around 20 percent—and yet they’re the ones making the largest sacrifices.  

And while mainstream coverage has spilled a lot of ink over how the cuts will impact the pristine lawns of Pasadena and Orange County, those most impacted will likely be the farm workers of the Central Valley, many of whom are undocumented immigrants. As Julia Wong writes for In These Times, the drought has already led to job losses in the tens of thousands, and threatens thousands more. It’s also led a steep spike in water prices for small towns like Cantua Creek near Fresno, leading many residents to fall behind on payments, risking dry taps. (Sound familiar?) “Farmworkers are not getting any support from the growers,” UFW organizer Antonio Cortes told Wong. “The growers have support from the governor and the federal government, but the farmworkers get nothing.”

What this strategy also means, reports Mark Hertsgaard for The Daily Beast, is that California’s water scarcity will likely just get worse. With reservoirs and mountain snow-packs shrinking faster every year, farmers in the Central Valley are now drilling deeper and deeper to access a limited supply of groundwater. This agricultural version of an arms race not only privileges some of the nation’s largest agribusinesses—the ones that can afford to drill deeper and faster than everybody else—it also threatens the state water system’s last lifeline. “This is the real potential doomsday scenario in California,” Hertsgaard told Democracy Now! A barren aquifer doesn’t mean more cutting back—it means collapse.

In a sense, the real danger of California’s drought, and climate change as a whole, is not that it’ll force us to cut back or make sacrifices. (Imagine an FDR-era response to exceptional drought; this stuff is doable.) It’s that the structural barriers and inequities of our 21st century economy and political system don’t allow for the kind of mass, emergency action that a warming planet demands. As Naomi Klein writes in her latest book, This Changes Everything, climate change is approaching at the worst possible historical moment: At a time when the planet is demanding radical change, “the only kind of contraction our current system can manage is a brutal crash, in which the most vulnerable will suffer most of all.”  

Another way to look at it is that we’ve reached a point where two of the most immediate water crises the country now faces—Baltimore and Detroit—have nothing to do with climate. They exist entirely within a broken economic and social system, and yet they’re every bit as dangerous to public health and human rights as California’s record-breaking drought. Responding to climate change in a serious way not only means taking a hard look at our energy systems and lifestyles. It also means addressing how the politics of water and carbon impact the realities of inequality and injustice.   

Rand Paul's Millennial Outreach, Now with Flip-Flops

Posted by guest-blogger Amanda Teuscher

With the news that presidential candidate Senator Ted Cruz’s affiliated super-PACs have raked in $31 million in less than a week, it looks like Senator Rand Paul is going to have to sell a lot of beer koozies.

Paul, who announced his candidacy on Tuesday, is already facing skepticism from conservatives and libertarians alike. As Paul Waldman noted here last week, the senator is likely to lose his distinctiveness as he toes the standard GOP line in preparation for the primary—especially as fear of ISIS displaces lessons learned from the Iraq War and the conservative base gets more hawkish. With CNN already wondering whether Paul “missed his moment,” the Paul campaign—complete with logo that looks more like an energy company than a campaign button—needs to brand his candidacy with a distinctive look. And as The Wall Street Journal noted, Paul’s online campaign shop features some unique, Brand Rand merchandise.

There’s a $15 “RAND” webcam blocker for those who haven’t discovered tape; multiple iPhone, Macbook, and iPad cases for those who worship the brand of Apple; and a $35 set of 12 “freedom paddles” for those who want “the next leader of the free world on a stick” (and don’t have a printer or access to popsicle sticks).

But there’s also something distinctly collegiate about the curation of items, as well as the very un–J. Peterman-like copy: “Look good listening to your jams with Rand Paul.” “Here’s to a 6-pack of freedom.” And there’s a “Don’t Drone Me, Bro!” T-shirt that, as the description says, combines “the Rand Paul filibuster for privacy with an Internet meme of a person yelling at police, ‘Don’t taze me bro.’”

Apparel-wise, there are skull caps, hoodies, and burnout tees (the patterns on which I think are more likely to induce debates about aesthetic taste than about civil liberties). And of course, there are flip-flops. My own personal opinions about flip-flops aside (they are terrible and should only be worn at the beach), someone on the Paul campaign clearly figured out that the vast majority of college students consider these two pieces of plastic acceptable footwear for every occasion.

Paul wants to be the cool candidate, and the idea seems to be to tap into the same grassroots energy that propelled the cool Obama, with a record share of the 18-29 vote, to the White House in 2008. The models in Paul’s campaign store are young, and for sale are Rand beer koozies and beer steins displaying a sunglasses-wearing, American flag–holding Jack Russell terrier. And, of course, there’s the quintessential swing-state lawn game, cornhole. (Rand’s website refers to it as “bag toss,” clearly reluctant to mention the word “cornhole,” but I’m from Ohio and I’m not afraid to call it by its proper name.)

None of this millennial outreach, though, is surprising. In the Fall issue of the Prospect, Adele M. Stan noted that Paul is directing his message of liberty to a very specific slice of that generation:

But if you drill down to look at which part of the millennial cohort expresses a belief in smaller government, it’s mostly white people, and the percentage varies according to how the question is asked. A March report by Pew Research found that overall, some 38 percent of millennials, not half, favored smaller government and fewer services. But when looked at through the prism of race, 52 percent of white millennials did, while 71 percent of non-white millennials favored bigger government and more services—numbers that likely speak to just which segment of the millennial generation Paul is aiming for.

As Stan writes, Paul’s libertarian cast masks a states’-rights philosophy that allows semi-local majorities to decide on matters that millennials are liberal on, such as same-sex marriage—a philosophy he’ll likely hold onto in his appeals to right-wing conservatives. Of course, maybe us millennials won’t notice that if he can convince us he’s just a liberty-loving dude who likes lawn games and brews.

Perhaps my favorite part of the Brand Rand shop is the short, phoning-it-in copy for one of the cornhole sets: “Have fun, make a difference,” is all it says. If only it were that easy.

North Charleston Murder Stems from American Tradition

 

Posted by guest-blogger Adele M. Stan

An unarmed man shot in the back. An innocent man released after serving 30 years on death row. The centennial of Billie Holiday’s birth. These are the stories that emanated from my radio yesterday, and all bear a common thread: the devaluing of black life.

The biggest news, of course, came from North Charleston, South Carolina, where Walter Scott, an unarmed black man, was shot in the back by a white police officer after fleeing on foot from the scene of a “routine traffic stop”—also known in some parts as “driving while black.”  One difference this time: The cop was charged with murder after a damning cell-phone video, shot by a bystander, was provided to state authorities, and then posted on the website of the Charleston Post and Courier.

Scott was shot eight times. The video shows the officer, Michael T. Slager, dropping an object, which appears to be his Taser stun-gun, next to Scott’s body. Slager told his bosses that Scott had grabbed the Taser from him. In truth, it seems that what Scott was killed for was not any threat he posed to the officer's life, but rather to ego of a white cop who couldn't bear to have his authority defied by a black man. Think about Michael Brown and Eric Garner. Isn't that ultimately why they died?

It may seem that police killings of black people—and general harassment of African Americans by law enforcement—are on the rise, but chances are that they are not. Chances are better than good that this is the way it’s always been. It’s just that citizens are now able to shoot videos with their phones, and to take to social media to howl about injustice the moment it occurs.

Take the case of Anthony Ray Hinton, 58, just released from Alabama’s death row after spending half his life there for two 1985 murders he didn’t commit. His conviction was based on police assertions that the bullets found at the scene of the crime matched a gun found in his mother’s house. But, when both were tested decades later, they didn’t. Here’s how Hinton explained his predicament to the BBC:

He said he was told by police the crime would be "put on him" and there were five things that would convict him.

"The police said: 'First of all you're black, second of all you've been in prison before, third, you're going to have a white judge, fourth, you're more than likely to have a white jury, and fifth, when the prosecution get to putting this case together you know what that spells? Conviction, conviction, conviction, conviction, conviction.' He was [right] and that's what happened."

He said: "I think if I'd have been white they would have tested the gun and said it don't match and I would have been released, but when you're poor and black in America you stand a higher chance of going to prison for something you didn't do."

Yesterday also brought human-interest stories marking 100 years since the birth of the great jazz innovator, Billie Holiday—meaning that, if, like me, you listen to the kind of radio that celebrates America’s classical music (because that’s what jazz is), you may have caught the iconic strains of Holiday’s brutally graphic tour de force lament of lynching, the centuries-old practice of white mobs hunting down a black person, torturing and mutilating that person, and then usually hanging the body from a tree. For those unfamiliar, here are the opening lines (lyric by Abel Meeropol):

Southern trees bear a strange fruit

Blood on the leaves, and blood at the root

Black body swingin’ in the Southern breeze

Strange fruit hangin’ from the poplar trees

But you should really listen to the whole thing. Every American should. In fact, it should be part of the Common Core curriculum. Because until we understand this legacy—our national legacy—it’s hard to see how things will ever truly change, except, perhaps, by matter of degree.

 

A Reminder About Netanyahu, Iraq, and Iran

Just a few weeks ago, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu looked like a figure with huge influence in American politics. There he was addressing Congress, with Republicans practically carrying him into the House chamber on their shoulders. He was on every American television show he wanted, delivering his dark warnings of the second Holocaust to come if an agreement was signed with Iran. And now? Even after winning re-election, as Dan Drezner argues, Netanyahu has become irrelevant to the Iranian nuclear debate. There's no one left for him to persuade.

And even though his argument always verged on the nonsensical—that any agreement to restrain Iran's nuclear program "paves Iran's way to the bomb," whereas if we just walked away then Iran would abandon such ambitions and everything would turn out great—it is now becoming almost comical. He's now demanding that Iran recognize Israel as a condition of any agreement, which as Josh Marshall notes would certainly be nice, but is completely irrelevant to the question of whether Iran has nuclear bombs or not. The agreement will succeed or fail, no matter what Benjamin Netanyahu thinks of it.

At the risk of piling on, I want to draw your attention to this piece by J.J. Goldberg of the Forward, which reminds us of just how spectacularly wrong Netanyahu has been on questions like this in the past:

In early January 2002, four months after the September 11 attacks, Israeli national security council director Uzi Dayan met in Washington with his American counterpart Condoleezza Rice. She told him—to his surprise, he later told me—that President Bush had decided to invade Iraq and topple Saddam Hussein. A month later Dayan's boss, Prime Minister Ariel Sharon, met with Bush in the White House and offered some advice, based on decades of Israeli intelligence.

Removing Saddam, Sharon said, according to three sources with direct knowledge, will have three main results, all negative. Iraq will implode into warring tribes of Sunnis, Shiites and Kurds. You'll be stuck in an Iraqi quagmire for a decade. And Iran, a far more dangerous player, will be rid of its principal enemy and free to pursue its ambitions of regional hegemony. Bush didn't agree.

Israeli leaders continued pooh-poohing Iraq all spring. Dismissal turned to alarm in August, when Iranian dissidents released evidence that Iran was pursuing nuclear weapons. In September Sharon told his cabinet to stop discussing Iraq. It was annoying the White House.

On September 12, however, a different Israeli voice visited Washington: ex-prime minister-turned-private citizen Benjamin Netanyahu. A longtime Sharon rival, closely allied with Washington's neoconservatives, he'd been invited to address the Republican-led House as an expert on Iraq. Baghdad, he said, was hiding mobile centrifuges "the size of washing machines." Moreover, "if you take out Saddam, Saddam's regime, I guarantee that it will have enormous positive reverberations on the region." Throughout the Middle East, including Iran, populations will be inspired to topple their own dictators.

Bush, of course, listened to Netanyahu and the neocons, not Sharon and his generals. Alas, Sharon was right. Iraq imploded. Iran surged. The invasion had reverberations, but hardly positive. The rest is history.

I sometimes feel like as a country we're already beginning to forget what a spectacular catastrophe the Iraq War was. It was probably the single biggest mistake in the history of American foreign policy, and part of what made it so maddening was the insistence of its boosters that it was going to be not just easy but the source of unending joy and happiness for the United States, the Middle East, and the world. They mixed their frenzied fear-mongering with the assurance that anyone who raised any doubts was a Saddam-coddler who didn't really want our Arab friends to receive the blessings of democracy, prosperity, and peace that were sure to result from our invasion. They didn't say, "This is going to be difficult and unpleasant, but we have to do it"; instead, they said, "This is going to be great!"

And today, the conservative narrative is that, sure, a couple of things went slightly wrong along the way, but if Barack Obama hadn't come along and screwed everything up, today Iraq would be thriving and peaceful and it all would have turned out just as they predicted in 2002. That belief forgives them for their part in the calamity, of course.

Bibi Netanyahu wasn't an "expert" on Iraq, and he isn't an expert on Iran. Perhaps after the last couple of months, we can finally put to rest the idea that we should take his opinion on anything into account as we're considering what we should do.

Why Republicans Won't Convince the Electorate That Hillary Clinton Is a Radical

One of the persistent conservative narratives about Hillary Clinton is that her identity as a supposedly moderate Democrat is a ruse, meant to conceal her radical leftist intents. If and when she reaches her long-held goal of becoming president, the mask will be removed and the true horror of her socialist scheme will be revealed.

That is, of course, assuming we reach January 2017 with Barack Obama having failed in his own plan to turn America into a dungeon of Stalinist oppression and misery. But the idea that Clinton is, like her husband, a moderate Democrat, is something that many conservatives have trouble abiding, particularly when the prospect of her becoming president becomes more salient.

So lest Republicans become complacent about the prospects for a second Clinton presidency (a real danger, no doubt), Liz Mair argues in the Daily Beast that Republicans shouldn't fool themselves into thinking that the former secretary of state is much like the first President Clinton:

...tying Hillary Clinton to her husband is an act of political malpractice that ignores the fact that on economic issues, she was—during his presidency, during her 2008 campaign, and still today—significantly to the left of him.

For whatever else one may say about him, Bill Clinton was and is a centrist. His presidency is remembered for the taming of the deficit, his advocacy for free trade, his signature of welfare reform, his legislation cutting the long-term capital gains tax rate, and perhaps most famously, his declaration that "the era of big government is over."

That would not have been true if Hillary had had it her way. And if she has her way now—and if she makes it to the White House—a very un-Bill-like big government will remain in the cards for some time.

Even if her bill of particulars is pretty weak, Mair is right insofar as Hillary Clinton is running in 2016 and Bill Clinton left office in 2001. In the time since, the Democratic Party has itself moved to the left in some ways, and a party's nominee is always going to reflect the party's consensus (with some small variation). If Bill Clinton were running now, he wouldn't be the same candidate he was then. It isn't that Hillary has been waiting for two decades to let her socialist freak flag fly, as I'm sure many conservatives believe; it's that her party has evolved, and she's evolved along with it. For instance, to be a Democrat now means to believe in full marriage equality and to question the War on Drugs, which wasn't true in 1992. At that time there was a comprehensive debate about the party's ideological direction, which Bill Clinton led; now there's a remarkable degree of ideological unity.

There are still ways in which Hillary Clinton is to the right of the median Democrat; she certainly retains more hawkish instincts in foreign affairs, and I don't know if she has abandoned her previous support of the death penalty (though that's something presidents don't do anything about). However you might judge her, we sometimes forget when we try to make such an assessment that it isn't necessary for a president to be an ideological radical for him or her to be a disaster in office. Richard Nixon was something of a moderate, but that made him no less corrupt. There are ways in which George W. Bush was less than a right-wing ideologue; that mitigates the disaster he wrought at home and abroad not at all.

The real things conservatives dislike about Hillary Clinton have little to do with ideology. They think she's a power-hungry, dishonest, overly secretive conniver who has no scruples. Someone could be all those things, and believe almost anything about policy.

This is something both liberals and conservatives will argue about when it comes to the Republican candidates, too. I tend to think that the actual policy differences between those candidates are tiny, and it's the attitudinal differences that are significant. If you actually went down a list of every issue you could come up with, you'd find that Jeb Bush and Ted Cruz disagree on only a couple of things, but Cruz presents himself as a proud far-right ideologue, while Bush doesn't.

Many conservatives believe that Bush is actually some kind of liberal simply because he talks about immigrants as though they were human beings and supports Common Core (which many other Republicans used to like before they decided it's some kind of communist indoctrination program). My guess is that Bush looked closely at Mitt Romney's ham-handed attempts to convince primary voters that he was actually a doctrinaire right-winger ("I was a severely conservative Republican governor") and concluded that the best course is to not fight too strongly against the notion that he's a moderate, despite what little truth there may be to it.

In any case, this kind of ideological name-calling is a feature of nearly every presidential campaign: each candidate says, "I'm mainstream, and my opponent is a radical." Sometimes it's true and sometimes it isn't, but I suspect Republicans are going to have a hard time convincing the electorate that Hillary Clinton is an ideological extremist, whatever they tell themselves.

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