A Cry from the Far Middle

by P. J. O'Rourke

  GR: We’ll have to agree to disagree about rates of taxation. But you must admit our tax system is a mess. The U.S. tax code is now four million words long. If you printed that out and dropped it on a taxpayer it would squash him flat.

  GD: Yeah, he’d be road kill. You could peel him off the highway and sail him like a Frisbee.

  GR: We’ve got to do something about that.

  GD: We sure do. I’ve got some specific ideas about how to do it.

  GR: So do I. Let’s discuss them.

  And the debate would continue in just such a manner­—substantive but good-natured—for exactly one hour.

  Because, no matter how good presidential candidates are, an hour of listening to them is all we can stand, even in our dreams.

  At the end of the debate the Good Republican would say to the Good Democrat, “You obviously care about people. If I’m elected I’m going to appoint you secretary of health and human services—and of education too, because, to save money, I’m gong to eliminate that cabinet post and put it back into the Department of Health, Education, and Welfare.”

  The Good Democrat would say to the Good Republican, “You’re obviously sharp about fiscal and monetary policy. If I’m elected I’m going to appoint you secretary of the Treasury.”

  And then they’d hug.

  Now I’ll wake up and wipe the drool off my face.

  A License to Drive (Me Crazy)

  We should license politicians. Every other profession has some form of accreditation or certification. There are hundreds, possibly thousands, of politicians in Washington, none with any formal qualifications for the job. Yet in the District of Columbia more than 125 other occupations require a license.

  We license lawyers, doctors, teachers, accountants, plumbers, real estate brokers, marriage counselors, dental hygienists, cosmetologists, beauticians, and barbers. But a politician has the power to cause more damage and expense than even the worst hair stylist.

  As the behavior of lawyers in Washington law firms shows, licensing is no cure-all. Most politicians are lousy. A license to practice won’t make them better. But creating complicated and time-consuming regulatory barriers to becoming a politician might, at least, limit the number of louses.

  Politicians should be rigorously educated and highly trained. At college they need to study subjects pertinent to their field. Just eight semesters of abnormal psych may not be enough.

  But let’s not send them to our best schools such as Georgetown, Yale, Columbia, or Penn. We’ve tried this before, with mixed results. Is Trump University still open?

  Perhaps future politicians should study political science. Ha. Ha. Ha. No. If politics were a science it would have been tried on lab rats first.

  More important are the academic disciplines that proto-politicos need to avoid.

  Mathematics One look at the federal budget would make a mathematician’s head explode.

  Logic Putting a logical person in politics is like putting an astrologer in charge of the Hubble Space Telescope.

  Literature and English Composition Have you read the memoirs by successful politicians after they’ve left office? They didn’t achieve preeminence by knowing how to recognize literary skills in a ghost writer.

  The most promising candidates in the making will concentrate on campus social life, especially in the dining hall. A vital skill in running for office—especially during presidential primaries—is, as previously noted, the ability to eat six pancake breakfasts and five spaghetti dinners a day at town halls, volunteer fire departments, VFW Posts, Elks Lodges, the Junior Chamber of Commerce, Rotary, Kiwanis, Lions Clubs, American Legion, Knights of Columbus, and B’nai B’rith.

  Between meals students can gain additional experience in practical politics by standing on a chair and reciting the same twenty-minute piece of rote gibberish over and over, then taking questions from classmates. (One of which is sure to be “Why don’t you sit down and shut up?”—an existential query that anyone who wants to be a politician ought to ponder deeply.)

  And the advantages of the fraternity and sorority system should not be neglected. Some day a secret handshake (or an embarrassing pledge stunt photo, especially if the pledge happens to be in a fraternity or sorority other than one’s own) could be worth millions in campaign fund-raising.

  Still one shudders to think what a “political” Animal House would be like—“Toga! Toga! Toga!” Except practicing with real knives, to be a real Brutus, in a real Senate.

  On the other hand, political students should avoid student politics. Student politics consist of either donning black ski masks and chasing guest lecturers off campus or tying bow ties and finding pairs of George Will horn-rims to wear to Young Americans for Freedom meetings. This is excellent training to be a lousy voter. But the point is to be a lousy politician.

  We have a long history of lousy politicians in this country. America wouldn’t be the nation that it is today without the likes of—to name just a few—Aaron Burr, Millard Fillmore, Warren Harding, Huey Long, Richard Nixon, and James Michael Curley (who served as mayor of Boston while in a federal penitentiary).

  We need a rigorous test to ensure that our politicians meet (but do not exceed) America’s traditional standards of lousiness. It should be something like a bar exam or, maybe, in this case, a “low bar” exam.

  There would be an essay question. “Say nothing of substance in 5,000 words or more. Extra credit for saying less at greater length.”

  And a fill-in-the-blanks section.

  Define the Following

  Boodle _______

  Graft _______

  Jobbery _______

  Pork Barrel _______

  Gerrymander _______

  Logrolling _______

  Carpetbagging _______

  Wire-Pulling _______

  Gravy Train _______

  And multiple choice.

  Circle the Correct Answer

  A.The gloves are off in this election.

  B.I will do what it takes to win.

  C.Really. I mean it. Bring on the dark money. Unleash the scare ads. Hello, foreign troll farms. I promise every American a $50-an-hour minimum wage and a free service animal.

  D.All of the above.

  There will be no true/false section in the test, however. True and false are simply not political concepts. It will have to be a false/false test instead.

  “I will bring new ideas to Washington.”

  U False U False

  “I look forward to building bipartisan support for my programs.”

  U False U False

  “I didn’t do it.”

  U False U False

  “And I’ll never do it again.”

  U False U False

  “I have the full support of my loving spouse and family.”

  U False U False

  The Founding Fathers Have Some Words With Us

  Our partisan political conflict has turned into the kind of ugly, brutal, and merciless persecution that filled the Roman Colosseum during the time of the emperor Nero, but where are the Christians? We have a murderous spectacle where vicious, bloodthirsty wild animals roam the arena in Washington. However, none of their victims are faithful, innocent, brave, or good.

  Let us turn away our eyes from this unholy gore and look instead for some wisdom and advice from our Founding Fathers.

  The Founders were not, of course, invariably wise advisers. They could be silly. Thomas Jefferson predicted “there is not a young man now living in the United States who will not die a Unitarian.”**** (Current membership of American Unitarian Universalist congregations: 154,704.)

  And the Founders could be wrong. After James Madison had served in the Virginia legislature he wrote a 1787 memorandum, “Vices of the Political System of the United States,” expressing shock at the po
rk-barreling, logrolling, horse-trading nature of practical politics. As if practical politics ever had any other nature.

  John Adams argued, “The law . . . will not bend to the uncertain wishes, imaginations, and wanton tempers of men.”***** Yes it will.

  In fact, the Founders could be very wrong indeed. Alexander Hamilton, in Federalist no. 84, dismissed the need for a Bill of Rights.******

  Jefferson, in his 1785 Notes on the State of Virginia, said, “Those who labor in the earth are the chosen people of God”—a statement that would have surprised the slaves who labored in the earth on Jefferson’s plantation. And to whom did Jefferson expect to sell the fruits of this earth? He was always ready to insult those who engaged in trade. “Merchants have no country,” he wrote in a letter to an admiring colleague,******* going on to impugn the patriotism merchants feel for “the mere spot they stand on” compared to the spot “from which they draw their gains.” No wonder Jefferson died deeply in debt to a whole bunch of merchants.

  But the Founders did possess sound good sense about intransigent political ideology and rabid political partisanship. They’re crap.

  Being men of the eighteenth-century Enlightenment, the Founders put their thoughts more eloquently. But Benjamin Franklin was almost that blunt about the dangers of falling in love with one’s own opinions and deciding to be the smartest person in the room (especially after everyone else has left). And George Washington, on the subject of party politics, sounds like he’s one fuck short of a fuck you.

  Below is what they had to say.

  On the last day of the Constitutional Convention, September 17, 1787, Benjamin Franklin was concerned that too many delegates would be unwilling to sign a Constitution that had resulted from so much—often strongly disputed­—­compromise. He wanted to make a short speech urging the Constitution’s adoption. Franklin was too weak and ill to give the speech himself. It was delivered on his behalf by fellow Pennsylvania delegate James Wilson and recorded in James Madison’s notes on the convention. (Which, one trusts, were more coherent than the notes I took in Government 101: “How a Bill becomes a Law—Cong. propose markup something something subcommittee something vote conference vote veto or something.”)

  Franklin’s speech is concise—by the standards of the day. It’s worth salving our itchy little modern attention span to read the text in full. Besides, Franklin was one of the few, if not the only, Founder to publicly display a sense of humor. (Although Founding Mother Abigail Adams was good at privately teasing her self-serious husband, John: “Whilst you are proclaiming peace and good will to men, emancipating all nations, you insist upon retaining an absolute power over wives.”********)

  Benjamin Franklin

  Mr. President [Franklin was formally addressing the Constitutional Convention’s president, who happened to be our other admonitory Founding Father George Washington], I confess that there are several parts of this constitution which I do not at present approve [Franklin, wisely, did not list them, though he preferred a unicameral legislature and thought the chief executive had too much power and should be replaced by a committee, etc.], but I am not sure I shall never approve them: For having lived long, I have experienced many instances of being obliged by better information, or fuller consideration, to change opinions even on important subjects which I once thought right, but found to be otherwise. It is therefore that the older I grow, the more apt I am to doubt my own judgment, and to pay more respect to the judgment of others.

  Most men indeed as well as most sects in Religion, think themselves in possession of all truth, and that wherever others differ from them it is so far error. Steele******** a Protestant in a Dedication tells the Pope, that the only difference between our Churches in their opinions of the certainty of their doctrines is, the Church of Rome is infallible and the Church of England is never in the wrong. But though many private persons think almost as highly of their own infallibility as of that of their sect, few express it so naturally as a certain french lady, who in a dispute with her sister, said “I don’t know how it happens, Sister but I meet with no body but myself, that’s always in the right—Il n’y a que moi qui a toujours raison.********”

  In these sentiments, Sir, I agree to this Constitution with all its faults, if they are such; [and, given the “three fifths of all other Persons” clause of Article I, Section 2, they were such, as Franklin, an ex–slave owner who had become an abolitionist, well knew] because I think a general Government necessary for us, and there is no form of Government but what may be a blessing to the people if well administered, and believe farther that this is likely to be well administered for a course of years [twenty-five years to be exact, until the stupid War of 1812], and can only end in Despotism, as other forms have done before it, when the people shall become so corrupted as to need despotic Government, being incapable of any other. [One shudders to think what Franklin’s opinion of the election of 2020 would be.] I doubt too whether any other Convention we can obtain, may be able to make a better Constitution. For when you assemble a number of men to have the advantage of their joint wisdom, you inevitably assemble with those men, all their prejudices, their passions, their errors of opinion, their local interests, and their selfish views. [Lie down with dogs, get up with fleas.] From such an assembly can a perfect production be expected? [Irony is not a twenty-first-century invention.] It therefore astonishes me, Sir, to find this system approaching so near to perfection as it does; and I think it will astonish our enemies, who are waiting with confidence to hear that our councils are confounded like those of the Builders of Babel; and that our States are on the point of separation, only to meet hereafter for the purpose of cutting one another’s throats. [Which we would do in 1861.]

  Thus I consent, Sir, to this Constitution because I expect no better, and because I am not sure, that it is not the best. The opinions I have had of its errors, I sacrifice to the public good. I have never whispered a syllable of them abroad. Within these walls they were born, and here they shall die. If every one of us in returning to our Constituents were to report the objections he has had to it, and endeavor to gain partizans in support of them, we might prevent its being generally received, and thereby lose all the salutary effects & great advantages resulting naturally in our favor among foreign Nations as well as among ourselves, from our real or apparent unanimity.

  Much of the strength and efficiency of any Government in procuring and securing happiness to the people, depends, on opinion, on the general opinion [MSNBC? Fox News?] of the goodness of the Government, as well as of the wisdom and integrity of its Governors [except in Illinois, where they’ll all go to jail]. I hope therefore that for our own sakes as a part of the people, and for the sake of posterity, we shall act heartily and unanimously in recommending this Constitution (if approved by Congress & confirmed by the Conventions) wherever our influence may extend, and turn our future thoughts & endeavors to the means of having it well administered.

  On the whole, Sir, I can not help expressing a wish that every member of the Convention who may still have objections to it, would with me, on this occasion doubt a little of his own infallibility, and to make manifest our unanimity, put his name to this instrument.

  The speech worked. Only three delegates refused to sign—Edmund Randolph and George Mason of Virginia and Elbridge Gerry of Massachusetts. Call them our “Founding Stepfathers,” and note that their names are not invoked in the same way as those of, for example, Washington or Jefferson. No person or policy is ever deemed “Randolphian,” “Masonian,” or “Gerrytonian.”

  George Washington’s “Farewell Address” was not an address in the sense of a speech that he gave. It was a “goodbye and good luck” letter to the public published in pamphlet form and in newspapers across the United States in 1796 when Washington had served two terms as president and was adamantly refusing the offer of a third.

  Washington was no great prose stylist and knew it. The address wa
s mostly written by Alexander Hamilton (who favored electing a president-for-life). But ghostwriter notwithstanding, the words have a measured, stern, and august tone that is wholly Washingtonian.

  The document, at more than six thousand words, is too stately an exercise in eighteenth-century declamation to escape being condensed. What follows is the part most pertinent to current events: Washington’s unsparing condemnation of “the spirit of party.”

  The complete “Farewell Address” contains equally timely warnings against reckless government borrowing, loose interpretations of the Constitution, erosion of the separation of powers, and the kind of nasty regionalism that results in certain Americans being labeled a “basket of deplorables” by someone who not only wasn’t offered three terms as president but couldn’t even get elected to one.

  There is also Washington’s often—perhaps too often—cited warning against “foreign alliances, attachments, and intrigues.” He was cautioning a new, small, and militarily insignificant nation against involvement in the seemingly never-ending conflict between Britain and France (which started in 1066 and may break out again with Brexit). This is not to say that Washington would have shrugged off the attack on Pearl Harbor or looked askance on NATO membership.

  The Father of our Country was not perfectly prescient. But he had a sad and accurate foresight about political faction and all its lies and all its empty promises.

  George Washington

  Let me now . . . warn you in the most solemn manner against the baneful effects of the spirit of party.

  The alternate domination of one faction over another, sharpened by the spirit of revenge natural to party dissension . . . has perpetrated the most horrid enormities [and] is itself a frightful despotism.