Paul Waldman

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Photo of the Day

KOBANI, SYRIA - JANUARY 28: A member of Kurdish armed group stands guard among the wreckage left by fighting on a street in the center of the Syrian town of Kobani (Ayn al-Arab) on January 28, 2015 after it has been freed from Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (ISIL) forces. (Photo by Esber Ayaydin/Anadolu Agency/Getty Images)

News From Elsewhere

In my column today at The Week, I wonder if we can finally dispense with the ritual in which presidential candidates say that they can bring Republicans and Democrats together to solve problems:

So imagine if a candidate in the general election, or a president in his inaugural speech, said, "This is my program. I realize that the folks in the other party don't like it. There may be a few places where we can compromise, and if so, that would be terrific. But I'm going to treat the voters like adults and tell them that I'm not expecting a whole lot of cooperation. I'm going to fight for what I promised to do when I ran, and if you don't like the results, you can turn me out in four years."

That would at least be honest, and nobody would be disappointed when the result is partisan fighting.

And at the Plum Line, I gave three reasons why the administration and Republicans in Congress will work out a budget deal. Here's the last one:

The single most important priority for congressional Republicans right now is to get a Republican president elected in 2016. If they can do that, it’ll be like walking into the public policy version of Willy Wonka's chocolate factory, where rivers of delicious tax cuts flow and everlasting gobstoppers of environmental deregulation are waiting to be sucked on until everyone passes out on a cotton-candy bed of abortion restrictions. So they don't want to do anything to screw that up, and a government shutdown fight late this year would demonstrate once again that Republicans can't be trusted to govern.

Why We Need to Know More About All the Presidential Candidates' Religious Beliefs

Among the things we're learning about the New Romney, concerned for the downtrodden and bristling with authenticity, is that he'll be talking more about his religion. I think this is a fine thing for him to do—in fact, I want to hear from other candidates about the subject, too. Not only that, they should get more specific about their beliefs and practices than candidates normally do. I'll explain why in a moment, but here's a piece of an article the other day in the Post:

If he runs again in 2016, Romney is determined to rebrand himself as authentic, warts and all, and central to that mission is making public what for so long he kept private. He rarely discussed his religious beliefs and practices in his failed 2008 and 2012 races, often confronting suspicion and bigotry with silence as his political consultants urged him to play down his Mormonism.

Now, Romney speaks openly about his service as a lay pastor in the Mormon Church, recites Scripture to audiences, muses about salvation and the prophet, urges students to marry young and "have a quiver full of kids," and even cracks jokes about Joseph Smith's polygamy.

This is a good start, but he should go even farther. The reason I think it's important for candidates to talk about their religion is that they say it's so important to them. Ask any one of them, and they'll tell you that faith is their guiding light, the bedrock of their lives, the foundation of everything they know and imagine. If that's really the case, then we sure ought to understand exactly what it is they believe.

Of course we don't want presidential campaigns to turn into theological debates. But we should understand all the ideas that they claim guide them, whether they come from the New Testament or The Wealth of Nations or The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. If, for instance, you sincerely think that only people who believe in your god are saved while every other human who has ever lived or will ever live is doomed to an eternity of well-deserved suffering and pain, then that's something voters should know, because it could well affect the decisions you make as president. And saying, "Well, that's above my pay grade, ha ha" when you get asked about that particular belief is a cop-out.

And whether he likes it or not, Mitt Romney has a particular obligation to talk about his religion, because most Americans know very little about Mormonism. If another candidate says he's a believing Catholic, most non-Catholics have a basic understanding of what that entails—going to mass, accepting the divinely authorized authority of the Pope, giving up something for Lent, and so on. But only a tiny number of non-Mormons actually know what it means to be a Mormon. This isn't about finding details in the religion that sound exotic or silly and making fun of them, it's about knowing what actually motivates Romney. He's a hugely influential figure in the the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (the Mormon Church), and Mormonism has defined his life. While there was some good reporting on the topic in 2012 (see here, for instance), it's important for voters to understand how he thinks about the relationship of his religious beliefs to his earthly endeavors.

And not just him, but all the candidates. There isn't a candidate running this year who doesn't portray himself or herself as a person of deep, abiding religious faith. Yet most of the time when candidates for national office talk about their religion, it's a feel-good version designed to alienate as few people as possible—a few inspiring lines from scripture, the idea that everything has a purpose, some ideas that no one of any religion or none would disagree with (care for others, work hard, have hope). They tell us, "This is one of the most important things about me," then all but refuse to detail anything useful about it.

One day, we'll have a president (or even a contending presidential candidate) who says that religion isn't particularly important to their daily lives and their understanding of the world. Until that day, however, we ought to know everything we can about candidates' religious beliefs, whatever they are.

Photo of the Day - Nomination Hearing Edition


This is from the confirmation hearings for Loretta Lynch to be Attorney General; that's her in the center. I think Cruz is saying to himself, "Can I be president and serve on the Supreme Court at the same time? I don't think the Constitution says otherwise. Yeah, that'd be real nice..." 


The Terrifying Political Power of the Upper Middle Class

Today's Plum Line post concerns the plan to eliminate the tax benefit of 529 plans, which the Obama administration proposed and then withdrew in the face of opposition from both Republicans and Democrats:

The Republicans who are crowing about the White House's retreat ought to remind themselves that this is yet another illustration of a dynamic they often bemoan: that it's easy to give people a government benefit, but much harder to take it away once it’s in place. And while they sneer in disgust at the moochers who get food stamps or Medicaid, the program they're now celebrating is a government giveaway, too, just one that is mostly given away to people who don't need it.

Here’s the real lesson from this whole affair: If you want to create a politically bulletproof government benefit, like the 529 program or the mortgage interest deduction (which costs the government about $70 billion a year), just make sure it’s technically open to anyone, but that the chief beneficiaries will be people who are doing well. They'll squawk if it ever gets threatened, and it's an absolute certainty that their representatives in Congress—Democrat and Republican alike—will hear them loud and clear.

The lesson of this retreat is clear: don't mess with the government benefits that the upper middle class gets. They're wealthy enough that Congress cares about them, and numerous enough that they constitute a significant voting bloc. 

For Republicans, Medicaid and Medicare Are Mirror Images

Yesterday, Indiana governor and possible presidential candidate Mike Pence—a conservative's conservative by any measure—announced that he had come to an agreement with the federal government to accept the Affordable Care Act's expansion of Medicaid. Like other Republican governors, he wanted to change the plan a bit, just to make sure poor people knew that getting health coverage for free would be bad for their moral fiber. So the Indiana plan will charge small premiums—up to 2 percent of an individual's income—which will make only a tiny impact on the state's balance sheets, but will send a clear message to those layabouts; Pence talked about giving people the "dignity to pay for their own health insurance." (I'm sure that Pence declines to take a government  handout in the form of the mortgage interest deduction, because that would undermine his dignity.)

While even a small premium can impose a hardship on people who are extremely poor—and there are other concessions Pence insisted on that will have the effect of making the coverage more stingy and giving the state the ability to throw people off—this is still extremely good news, because hundreds of thousands of people in Indiana who couldn't afford coverage before will now get covered. But Pence doesn't want anybody to get the idea that he doesn't hate Medicaid. As Dylan Scott explains, Republican governors always seem to find different names to call their Medicaid programs when they accept the Affordable Care Act's expansion, and they never utter the vile word "Obamacare," even though that's the source of the money they're taking:

But Pence might have been the boldest yet. His office effectively portrayed his state's plan as a blow to Medicaid and government-funded health care.

"With this approval, Indiana will end traditional Medicaid for all non-disabled Hoosiers between 19 and 64," Pence's office said, "and will continue to offer the first-ever consumer-driven health care plan for a low-income population."

This is actually the inverse of the way Republicans talk and act when it comes to Medicare. These Republican governors want to expand Medicaid for very practical reasons: having huge numbers of uninsured poor citizens creates a less healthy workforce, imposes costs on the state through uncompenstated care, and is generally an economic drag. Under the ACA, the federal government will pay nine out of ten dollars for expanding it, so you have to be an idiot not to take it (there are still quite a few such idiots left, of course). But in public, ideology demands that they claim that Medicaid is awful and they want nothing to do with it; in the extreme case, you get someone like Pence trying to convince people that he's striking a blow against the program by expanding it.

When it comes to Medicare, however, it's exactly the opposite. Republicans actually dislike it, precisely because it's a huge government program that works. But because it's so popular, they have to pretend in public that they're its greatest defenders. Here, for example, is an ad run by Indiana senator Dan Coats in his last election:

You've got to love that—his opponent voted "to force seniors into Barack Obama's government-run health care program, reducing the protection Medicare provides." Utterly nonsensical? Sure. But "Dan Coats will fight to strengthen Medicare," I guess by protecting it from the government. Or something.

You'll notice that every attempt by Republicans to privatize or other undermine Medicare is presented as a plan to "strengthen" it, the mirror image of how GOP governors now say they're weakening Medicaid by expanding it. Maybe someone should propose moving poor people into Medicare, which Republicans say they love so much. Then they'd have no idea what to say. 

Photo of the Day, British Silliness Edition

The photo of this guy swimming with a Dalek on his head was apparently taken at some sort of whimsical British swimming competition, but the context is really irrelevant. The point is, this is a guy swimming with a Dalek on his head. Godspeed to you, good sir.

The Kochpublican Party

In my Plum Line post today, I take a look at the announcement that the Koch brothers and their allies plan to spend $889 million (an awfully specific number) on the 2016 elections. My guess is they'll blow through that and make it to $1 billion, what with their can-do American entrepreneurial spirit and all. What strikes me about this isn't the sums involved—their combined worth is over $80 billion, so it isn't like they're going to have to lay off any of the household staff because of their political spending—it's the fact that they've obviously decided that there's no reason to be shy about this anymore. And they're probably right:

So the Kochs appear to have concluded that the efforts by Democrats (especially Harry Reid) to turn the Koch name into a symbol of everything that’s wrong in American politics have failed. No longer must they cower in their mansions and take pains to conceal their political spending, fearful of the piercing barbs aimed by liberal politicians and commentators, when all they want is for Americans to fully appreciate the majesty of laissez-faire economics. Free at last, free at last, thank Citizens United, they’re free at last.

If you were expecting journalists to express much consternation at the idea that a group of the super-wealthy are openly announcing their intention to buy the next election, you’ll be disappointed. Instead, the news is being reported more like that of a record-breaking contract for a professional athlete: wonder at the sums involved, but precious little moral outrage. That’s mostly because political reporters tend to believe that election campaigns are already nothing but a parade of deception and manipulation, an enterprise that’s inherently corrupt. So what’s a little more corruption?

Read the rest here.

Bobby Jindal's Doomed Crusade

Flickr/Gage Skidmore

Bobby Jindal has been something of an odd man out in the emerging 2016 presidential race. While people like Rand Paul and Marco Rubio (not to mention Jeb Bush and Mitt Romney) get headlines for their every contemplation of the race, Jindal is largely ignored by the national media. Yet for years he was touted as a future presidential candidate, precocious and ambitious, an Indian-American who speaks with a Southern drawl and who could be a compelling national figure.

While no one is going to put Jindal on a list of the nation's most successful governors, he has a longer resume than most of the field, and his list of blasphemies against the ever-evolving conservative creed are few. Yet with the relative lack of attention, maybe he decided he needed an angle. But the choice that he seems to have made, at least for the moment, is an awfully curious one. Jindal is positioning himself as the most Christian of all the candidates, and one ready to lead a clash of civilizations to boot.

You might say, well, isn't that good strategy? Aren't evangelicals the very heart of the GOP? Yes, they are. But consider: there's always a competition for their votes, and one or two candidates usually make religion central to their candidacy. And they never get the nomination. Before we get to what Jindal is doing now, let's have a little reminder from the past. Here's a Rick Perry ad from 2012:


He's not ashamed to admit he's a Christian! So brave. But keep that idea in mind. Now here's Mike Huckabee from 2008:

When this ad aired there was a weird discussion about whether the lines in the bookcase behind Huckabee were supposed to be a cross, as though a hidden subliminal message were necessary in an ad in which Huckabee, an ordained Baptist minister, says, "What really matters is the celebration of the birth of Christ." In any case, you'll recall that Huckabee, like Perry, did not actually become the Republican nominee. Nor did Gary Bauer in 2000, or Pat Buchanan in 1988 and 1992, or Pat Robertson in 1988. With the exception of George W. Bush, the actual GOP nominees of recent years—Romney, McCain, Dole, George H.W. Bush—have not been the most religious; indeed, many of them were greeted skeptically by evangelicals. Yet they ended up winning.

So why Bobby Jindal would think that being not just the most devout but the most, shall we say, aggressively Christian would be the path to victory is kind of hard to understand. This isn't about whether he's sincere in his religious beliefs, which I'm sure he is. But a more thoughtful politician wouldn't send out an invitation to a prayer rally on government letterhead reading, "Jesus, Son of God and the Lord of Light, is America's only hope." And then send a letter to the 49 other governors inviting them to come, and saying of the rally, "There will be only one name lifted up that day—Jesus!" (h/t Peter Montgomery) And then say triumphantly at the rally, "Our god wins!" That's not exactly a message of inclusion.

What differentiates Jindal from prior candidates is that he's advancing a theory that is widespread yet almost never embraced by anyone with national political ambitions: that we are in a war both cultural and religious, and the enemy is Islam. He wouldn't state it quite that baldly, but when he's out there warning that fictional Muslim "no-go zones" are coming to America and proclaiming "Our god wins!" there isn't much doubt what sentiment he's playing to.

In contrast, four years ago Rick Perry was tapping into Christians' sense of persecution, the belief that they're losing a war in which the enemy is secularism. Without question, that's a war Jindal wants to fight as well. But he's going farther in portraying Islam as the enemy than anyone else in the race. If history is any guide, making himself into the crusader candidate isn't going to do the trick. 

Charts of the Day, Declining Deficit Edition

If you're like me, you can't wait for an excuse to head on over to the historical tables of the president's budget and grab some data to make a couple of graphs. O.K., so you're not like me in that respect, because you're not a weirdo. But I am, so when I saw that the Congressional Budget Office had come up with its latest budget projections, I knew it was graph time.

The good news is that the deficit in 2014 was $483 billion, or 2.8 percent of GDP. While that would be a lot of money to have in your bank account, it's the lowest deficit since 2007, and lower than the average of the last 40 years. It's also a spectacular reduction since its height in 2009, when it was $1.4 trillion and almost 10 percent of GDP. Now...on to the graphs! (A note: I've used the CBO's assumption of 2 percent inflation over the next decade to obtain the figures for real dollars.) We start with the deficit in dollars, then as a proportion of GDP.

Keep in mind that the projections could be right or wrong; for all we know, there could be a world war in 2020 or the virtual reality economy could explode in 2022, bringing an unprecedented era of wealth and tax revenue. But on the whole, things are looking pretty good, given where we were a few years ago.