View from Puerto Varas, southern Chile, of a high column of ash and lava spewing from the Calbuco volcano, on April 22, 2015. Chile's Calbuco volcano erupted on Wednesday, spewing a giant funnel of ash high into the sky near the southern port city of Puerto Montt and triggering a red alert. Authorities ordered an evacuation for a 10-kilometer (six-mile) radius around the volcano, which is the second in southern Chile to have a substantial eruption since March 3, when the Villarrica volcano emitted a brief but fiery burst of ash and lava. (Giordana Schmidt/AFP/Getty Images)
Today, President Obama revealed that a drone strike in Pakistan killed two aid workers who were being held by al Qaeda, one an American named Warren Weinstein, and the other an Italian named Giovanni Lo Porto. This is obviously generating news because there was an American killed, while the accidental deaths of innocent civilians don't usually merit notice here. As we note what a terrible tragedy this was, we shouldn't forget that this is the kind of war on terror we asked for.
Even as he ended the war in Iraq and began winding down the war in Afghanistan, Obama greatly increased the use of drones. Thousands of people have been killed in these strikes, and the number of civilians killed is in the hundreds. Perhaps because many people see drones as the only alternative to large-scale military operations where death tolls are much higher, support for the strikes has remained high, so long as they're occurring in foreign countries and not targeted on Americans. For instance, here's a Gallup poll from 2013:
As it happens, this strike did kill an American member of Al Qaeda, Adam Gadahn, or so the administration says. My suspicion is that the number of people who fall into the majority in that second category—opposing drone strikes against a U.S. citizen living abroad who is a suspected terrorist—would be lower once you personalize it in one individual who proclaims his membership in al Qaeda, as opposed to a hypothetical American who might or might not be guilty.
It's also important to know just how despised the American drone program is around the world. Take a look at this graph from the Pew Research Center:
The only countries where a majority approve of the strikes are the U.S., Kenya, and Israel. Why are people around the world so opposed to a program that most Americans would say is justified and restrained? It's the civilian casualties, but I think it's probably also something else: the idea that the United States retains for itself the right to rain down death from above on anyone anywhere at any time. To people in other countries, that represents America's arrogance and disregard for the sovereignty of other countries. You can say, "Well, isn't it better than us invading them?", but they don't find that very convincing.
Yesterday, The New Yorker's George Packer pronounced himself bored with the 2016 campaign in particular and American politics in general, and though I think he's wrong, I understand where he's coming from. But if those of us who have devoted our lives to politics can't find enough about it to sustain our interest, what hope is there for the citizens who have better things to do with their time? This isn't an easy question to confront, but I'll give it a shot.
First, this seems pretty understandable:
American politics in general doesn't seem like fun these days. There's nothing very entertaining about super PACs, or Mike Huckabee's national announcement of an imminent national announcement of whether he will run for President again. Jeb Bush's ruthless approach to locking up the exclusive services of longstanding Republican political consultants and media professionals far ahead of the primaries doesn't quicken my pulse. Scott Walker's refusal to affirm Barack Obama's patriotism doesn't shock me into a state of alert indignation. A forthcoming book with revelations about the Clintons' use of their offices and influence to raise money for their foundation and grow rich from paid speeches neither surprises me nor gladdens my heart.
I know what he means; I confess that I found myself feeling something between gloom and despair after the seventh or eighth shutdown/default crisis, like we were trapped in an endlessly repeating and miserable cycle, and it wasn't easy to do my job of examining the situation and writing something both informative and interesting about it. But that passed. And the thing is, it's up to those of us who write about politics to make it interesting. That's what we're here for.
Would a Clinton-Bush matchup lack novelty? In some ways, sure. But there are still things that make each of them, familiar though they might be, interesting characters. Their paths to this point and what voters think of them now tell us a lot about American politics and America itself. And this election will be hugely consequential. The next president is probably going to shape the Supreme Court's path for decades to come (there are four justices over the age of 76). The fate of the Affordable Care Act, and the health of tens of millions of Americans, hangs in the balance, as does the question of whether we're going to have another war in the Middle East and whether we're finally going to address decades of rising inequality.
Elections can be interesting (or even fun) for a lot of reasons. It becomes interesting if it's close, as this one is almost sure to be; the uncertainty of a conflict's outcome always heightens the dramatic tension. Beneath even the most practiced and cautious candidate lies a complex party with factions and internal divisions that can be explored. Every presidential campaign features uses of technology to reach voters that didn't exist four years before. Yes, the daily repetitive grind of the campaign trail and the latest micro-scandal or "gaffe" can enervate the spirit. But there's plenty more going on if you're willing to go deeper.
Maybe what's eating Packer is the lack of a collective sense of fun about politics and the campaign. I suspect this may be a hangover from 2008, which for liberals was, and probably always will be, the most interesting and fun campaign of their lives. You had a charismatic new candidate who got liberals excited and motivated to cast off the ennui that had overtaken them after eight years of George W. Bush, and in the midst of a horrible economic crisis it seemed like the future was filled with hope and possibility. Many of the elite liberals I know are now greeting the Clinton candidacy with an attitude of, "Well, I guess so." And if the people you know don't seem excited, it can be hard to get excited yourself.
I'm sure George Packer has plenty of other things he can write about if the campaign isn't grabbing his fancy. But if you're going to write about it and it doesn't yet look interesting, then you just have to look a little harder.
This is a Central Japan Railway maglev train returning to the station after setting a new speed record of 603 kilometers per hour, or 374 mph. And you pay extra to get on a pokey Acela just to get to New York 15 minutes faster.
We spend an awful lot of time in campaigns talking about a set of personal qualities candidates may or may not possess that revolve around honesty. Is the candidate truthful, honest, sincere, candid, authentic? The New York Timesasked yesterday whether Hillary Clinton's focus on inequality was sincere: "the former secretary of state must persuade voters that she is the right messenger for the cause of inequality, not simply seizing on it out of political expedience." My colleague Greg Sargent argued that if it represents a change in emphasis for Clinton, it's only because her party's agenda has evolved, and that's what the process is for. Matt Yglesias said that it's absurd to think that anyone who understands and agrees with Clinton on the issue of inequality isn't going to vote for her because she's been talking about it more lately than she used to. Jonathan Bernstein agreed, but argued that sincerity could matter for primary voters:
The primary campaign is a different story. A voter who agrees with a candidate's positions down the line may defect to another contender who is more convincing as a true believer. Nominations often involve candidates who seem identical. Can you tell Scott Walker from Marco Rubio from Bobby Jindal from Rick Perry based only on what they've said about where they stand on the issues?
Primary voters as well as the party actors who are involved in a campaign's earlier stages need to find a way to choose. They might see experience as the best indicator of who might be the most effective president. Or they might use ethnicity, gender or other demographic traits as a guide, or something to identify with the candidate personally. They might be drawn to the best speaker or debater, either because they are inspired or because they assume those skills will produce the strongest general-election candidate.
So it wouldn't be unlikely if primary voters look for the candidate who is most likely to stick to his or her promises and discount promises that seem targeted for transient electoral appeal.
I agree that some number of voters will make their choice this way, but I'd argue that doing so is foolish. As we know well, presidents tend to keep the vast majority of the promises they make while campaigning, and most of those they don't keep are merely the ones they tried and failed to do. The actual number of broken promises, a la "Read my lips: no new taxes" is incredibly small. If a candidate says he's going to do something, he's probably going to at least try to do it. This is particularly true when the thing he's proposing is of vital importance to his party. And it's true even if it was something he wasn't all that enthusiastic about, but adopted out of political opportunism.
That isn't to say that sincerity is completely irrelevant—a president will pursue some goals with more zeal than others depending on what he or she cares most about—but if primary voters have managed to extract a promise from every candidate to do something, they can probably consider their work on that issue done, and base their decision on something else. For instance, every Republican is going to say he wants to cut taxes. If you're a Republican, should you waste your time figuring out which of them is more deeply, emotionally, fundamentally committed to cutting taxes? Probably not. The next Republican president, no matter who he is, will try to get a tax-cutting plan through Congress. You'd do better to figure out who has the best shot of winning the White House and who might have the skill to guide that tax-cut plan into law. You don't need a president who's sincere, you just need one who'll do the things you want.
It's a little strange that Rick Perry has gotten so little attention so far in the presidential race. OK, so his 2012 run was kind of a disaster, but the guy was the governor of the country's second-biggest state for 14 years, and he's as conservative as they come. Why should he get less notice than, say, Ted Cruz?
Well RickPAC, the totally non-affiliated and non-coordinating organization that exists to help conservatives like Rick Perry, though, legally speaking, not Rick Perry in particular, is hoping to change that. They just came out with a slick video that gives a hint at where Perry is coming from. Do you like Enya? Then you'll love this:
The theme here seems to be that if his predecessor George W. Bush was The Decider, Rick Perry is going to be The Connecter. "I grew up 16 miles from the closest place that had a post office, in a house that didn't have running water," he says. "If I can't get down there and connect with the blue-collar worker, then no one can. That's where I came from."
We then see a headline touting Perry's ability to connect with the business and tea party wings of the GOP, and we see him connecting with all sorts of people who apparently are hungry for connection. Old folks, young folks, men and women, black, white and Hispanic, Rick Perry is connecting with them all. He's shaking their hands, laying a comradely hand on their shoulders as he passes, putting his arm around them, connecting, connecting, connecting. And also walking quickly — but not too quickly to connect! — suggesting that a Perry White House might have some of that "West Wing" walk-and-talk feel to it.
Does this foreshadow the theme of the upcoming Perry campaign? "Rick Perry: People Person"? After all, Jeb Bush likes to tell people he's an introvert, so while he's back in his house poring over wonky think tank reports, Rick Perry can be out there connecting with people. I guess there are worse things to build a campaign around.
This photo was taken from the International Space Station by astronaut Barry Wilmore. You can see Lake Michigan in the upper left hand corner; those lights at its edge are Chicago. Courtesy of nasa.gov.
Assuming Hillary Clinton is the Democratic presidential nominee next year, we already know that the Republican candidate will be younger than the Democrat, maybe by just a few years (if it's Jeb Bush or Rick Perry, both in their 60s), but maybe by quite a bit. Marco Rubio is not only just 43, he also likes hip-hop (as he never tires of letting people know). Is it possible that the Republican Party will actually have a nominee who's cool? Or at least cooler than the Democrat? Conservative columnist Matt Lewis thinks so:
Like the products we purchase, the candidates we support say something about who we are (or, at least, who we want people to think we are). We might want to believe that our preference has to do with a candidate's policy positions, and in many cases it does. But it's also at least partly about cultural signaling. We all want to be seen affiliating with a cool brand, and we interpret what that cool brand is by means of our tribal identities.
In this sense, Republicans are faced with both a challenge and an opportunity. If a demographic shift has made it vital for Republicans to sell conservatism to more millennials and urban, cosmopolitan voters—and I believe it has—it makes sense to go for cool. Marco Rubio—who is young, handsome, and fluent in Spanish, sports, and pop culture—is cool. Especially compared to Hillary Clinton. Grandmothers (and grandfathers!) may be a lot of wonderful things, but "cool" isn't typically one of them, at least in the popular imagination.
And it's not just Rubio. Rand Paul is kind of cool, particularly among millennials who are socially liberal but wary of the intrusiveness of big government. Indeed, there might never be a better time for the GOP to steal the "cool" mojo from Democrats—who have tended to "own" the cool factor for the better part of the last 50 years.
I'd argue that the only genuinely cool presidents we've had in the last century were Kennedy and Obama, though you could throw in Clinton (although really dude, "I didn't inhale"? Not cool). But it depends on what standard you're using, because cool is complicated. There's the kind of cool Barack Obama embodies, which is all about emotional control, never being too high or too low. There's the cool that comes from just being young, in a culture where youth is inherently desirable. In any case, Lewis is right that voting is an act of cultural affiliation. It can be about the candidate in particular; I've said before that one of the things that made Obama's 2008 campaign so powerful for liberals was that they saw him as everything they wanted to be—youthful, erudite, cosmopolitan, his multiracial identity a tribute to their own open-mindedness, and so on. Republicans portray Democrats as weak and effeminate in part to convince male voters that a vote for such a candidate might say something about the person casting the ballot, too.
But when we're talking about politicians, who are inherently uncool, there's only so cool they can be. And it's enough to know that all the cool people are voting a particular way, even if the person they're voting for isn't particularly cool. Maybe Rubio can drop a few more Tupac references and pull a few votes from young people here and there, but his coolness factor is inevitably going to be pulled down by the fact that he's a member of the GOP, the party where some of the uncoolest people can be found.
For some time now, the smart money in political circles has been on Scott Walker becoming the Republican nominee for president—even though primary voters hadn't yet thought much about him. If you look at primary polls, up until October of last year, Walker was at around 5 percent support, which is essentially nothing. Then as the media started to focus more on the race after the midterm elections were over, Walker began a steady rise, and he's now second to Jeb Bush. And he just got what could be the most important endorsement of all:
On Monday, at a fund-raising event in Manhattan for the New York State Republican Party, David Koch told donors that he and his brother, who oversee one of the biggest private political organizations in the country, believed that Mr. Walker would be the Republican nominee.
“When the primaries are over and Scott Walker gets the nomination,” Mr. Koch told the crowd, the billionaire brothers would support him, according to a spokeswoman. The remark drew laughter and applause from the audience of fellow donors and Republican activists, who had come to hear Mr. Walker speak earlier at the event, held at the Union League Club.
Two people who attended the event said they heard Mr. Koch go even further, indicating that Mr. Walker should be the Republican nominee. A spokeswoman disputed that wording, saying that Mr. Koch had pledged to remain officially neutral during the primary campaign.
But Mr. Koch’s remark left little doubt among attendees of where his heart is, and could effectively end one of the most closely watched contests in the “invisible primary,” a period where candidates crisscross the country seeking not the support of voters but the blessing of their party’s biggest donors and fund-raisers.
We should be clear on two things. First, the Kochs may not actually invest in a candidate in the primaries, whatever their feelings are. Second, even if they did, the money they spent probably wouldn't sway the outcome. In 2012 Sheldon Adelson spent $20 million trying to make Newt Gingrich the nominee, and we saw how that worked out. The other candidates will be amply funded as well; there are other billionaires out there who will make sure that Bush, Marco Rubio, and possibly others will have more than enough money to keep up.
But in the "invisible primary," the Koch's nod of approval can be a powerful symbol. When the Republican Party's biggest funders—who plan to spend nearly a billion dollars on the 2016 campaign—say that Walker is their guy, it will almost inevitably make a lot of other people important to the primary process think very seriously about him. That includes other funders, party officials, key operatives, and the kind of state and local organizers and endorsers who can be so critical in early contests. The main reason Walker has seemed like he has such potential is his ability to appeal to both sides of the central divide in the GOP, between the establishment and the grassroots. But if the Kochs are supporting him, even informally, all of a sudden he seems like nearly as much the establishment candidate as Jeb Bush.
My own opinion is that despite what many in the party will say, you'd much rather be the establishment candidate than the scrappy insurgent. But what is it about Walker that the Kochs find so attractive? We can't read their minds, of course, but like all of us they probably believe that their own personal favorite is the most electable candidate. Walker's core primary message—that unabashed conservatism with a hard partisan edge is not only right but politically shrewd—is surely as appealing to them as to any other Republican.
And while all the Republican candidates are committed to laissez-faire economics, Walker has already demonstrated the missionary zeal he brings to crushing unions and working for the interests of the wealthy and corporations. Perhaps the Kochs look at Jeb Bush and see someone who might someday feel the stirrings of a troubling noblesse oblige and go soft on the unwashed masses. But Scott Walker? Never.
In 2008, John McCain, straight-talking principled maverick that he was, got into a Republican primary and saw that a position in favor of comprehensive immigration reform was causing him problems, so he disavowed the reform bill he had co-authored not long before, going so far as to say that if it came up again in the Senate, he'd vote against it. And now Marco Rubio, who like McCain attempted to pass a bipartisan comprehensive reform bill, is doing something similar. When the "Gang of Eight" bill Rubio championed passed the Senate in 2013 but died in the House, Rubio was skewered by tea partiers as a sellout and a traitor. So he changed his position, saying that he now advocates "securing the border first, " just like every other Republican.
But there may be less of a flip-flop here than meets the eye. In fact, I'd argue that many of the Republican contenders are less conservative on immigration than they're pretending to be. Here's what happened when Rubio got asked yesterday on "Face the Nation" about whether he'd vote for his own bill:
"That's a hypothetical that will never happen," he says, which is probably true, even if it's a way of dodging the question. But when you listen to him outline his actual position on immigration, it doesn't seem to have changed from the Gang of Eight bill, and indeed, it doesn't sound all that different from what many Democrats advocate. Rubio may not like the term, but he advocates a path to citizenship for undocumented immigrants: he describes a lengthy process that goes from a provisional status to a legalized status including a work permit to eventual citizenship, and involves things like paying back taxes, but that's what Democrats want too.
Rubio could frame an answer to the question in a reasonable way if he wanted; he could say, "We tried to pass comprehensive reform and we couldn't, so what I'm proposing now accomplishes the same goals piece by piece and therefore has a better chance of satisfying my party's right wing because the 'tough'-sounding stuff comes first." Of course he wouldn't put it that way, because all the incentives in the primaries encourage candidates to say, "Grr, no amnesty, border security first!" There's a premium put on channeling the emotions of the Republican electorate on this issue, including anger, resentment, and fear. But the details of what Rubio is advocating are pretty moderate.
And it isn't just him. Jeb Bush has aroused conservatives' ire by talking about undocumented immigrants like human beings, and though he too now stresses the "tough" parts of his immigration plan, he has long supported a path to citizenship. Scott Walker has been a bit muddy on the question, but he has allowed that there could be a way to give the undocumented citizenship (after the border is secure, of course). He says he's against "amnesty," but doesn't say that he opposes any path to citizenship ever. Rand Paul supports a path to citizenship, even if he doesn't want to call it that. Bobby Jindal supports a path to citizenship. Mike Huckabee wants citizenship for DREAMers. In fact, the only major candidate I could find who has unequivocally ruled out any path to citizenship is Ted Cruz, and even he advocates some kind of legal status that would allow undocumented immigrants to stay in the country and work.
So what we have here seems to be a bunch of candidates who want to convince Republican primary voters that they're more conservative on immigration than they actually are.
Let's be clear that in practice, "Secure the border first, then we can get to what to do with the undocumented" can be and often is a way of saying that we'll never get to comprehensive reform. Almost no one who says this has a clear idea of what a "secure" border means — is it zero undocumented people getting in? — and so no matter how many miles of fence we build or how many thousands of new Border Patrol agents we hire, some people will always say the border isn't yet secure and therefore all the other elements of reform have to wait. And I'm not naïve enough to think that someone like Scott Walker would be working hard to get comprehensive reform accomplished if he became president. But it's revealing that even this group of extremely conservative candidates embraces many of the liberal goals of immigration reform — even if they don't really want to talk about that part of it until the primaries are over.