By Luke Thompson
Monday, July 25, 2016
Hillary Clinton is the standard-bearer of a party
coalition explicitly constructed to deny her access to the office she now seeks
as its leader. She has become the face of the very amalgamation of groups that
eight years ago handed her the worst defeat of her career. At the same time, a
significant portion of her former support has forsaken her party and turned
against her personally with bristling hostility. What are we to make of this
peculiar arrangement, and how will it shape Clinton’s agenda should she attain
the White House?
For much of the last century, the white working class was
the Democratic party’s base, a force to be reckoned with in any contested
Democratic primary. Republicans golfed; Democrats bowled. George W. Bush’s
administration shifted the party coalitions somewhat, pulling many blue-collar
churchgoers into the GOP while pushing away some socially moderate northern
suburbanites. Labor unions have weakened steadily since their apex a half
century ago. Nonetheless, when Clinton faced off against Barack Obama in the
2008 Democratic primaries, blue-collar whites were most likely the largest
section of the Democratic primary electorate.
That year, the Democrats divided neatly on both foreign
and domestic policy, on the Iraq War and illegal immigration. Obama was a dove
on Iraq and sided with New York governor Eliot Spitzer’s decision the previous
year to grant illegal immigrants access to driver’s licenses. Clinton fumbled
the license question badly in a debate, but came to robustly oppose Spitzer’s
policy as a point of distinction with Obama, whom she did her best to portray
as too reflexively dovish abroad and too permissive at home.
Both candidates crafted their primary coalitions with
this divide in mind. Clinton built her campaign on an alliance of working-class
white voters and moderate suburbanites favorably disposed toward her husband’s
tenure in office. Facing a steep uphill climb in the primaries, Obama crafted
an alliance between the ideological Left and minority voters. The former won
him Iowa; the latter, South Carolina. Thanks to some timely and significant
missteps by Clinton, Obama was able to ride this coalition — the “rising
electorate” — to victory in the primaries. With the housing market in freefall
come November, and two wars grinding on, the general election was never really
a contest.
Surprising as it may seem in retrospect, Clinton’s
positions were much more within the Democratic mainstream than Obama’s. Fully
29 out of 50 Democratic senators voted in favor of the Iraq War. The bulk of
the Democratic Senate caucus, including both Clinton and Obama, supported
comprehensive immigration reform in June 2007, but most Democrats reacted to
Spitzer’s actions with considerable suspicion, and in many cases with downright
hostility. Even in blue New York, it was one of the least popular decisions
Spitzer took as governor that didn’t involve the Mann Act.
So Clinton’s coalition should have put her over the hump and secured her the nomination.
Her alliance of white-collar centrists and blue-collar whites voted reliably
and was well distributed geographically. The nomination was Clinton’s to lose.
It took diligent incompetence on her part to do so; yet lose Clinton did.
Obama’s primary victory thus had significant implications
for the Democratic coalition once he reached the Oval Office. His policy
priorities have been those of his primary supporters, priorities that have in
some instances come directly at the expense of Clinton’s blue-collar backers.
Five policy areas in particular have distanced the Obama administration from
working-class whites: gay rights, free trade, illegal immigration,
environmentalism, and Obamacare.
Obama’s gay-rights agenda, initially an afterthought,
quickly became a politically expedient means of endearing him to white-collar
social liberals underwhelmed by his economic and foreign-policy track record.
By contrast, working-class whites, including the unchurched, have looked on
these efforts with indifference at best. On free trade and illegal immigration
— both incorrectly blamed for wage stagnation by many working-class whites —
Obama is indistinguishable from his Republican predecessor. On gay rights and
trade, Clinton and Obama largely agree.
But on illegal immigration, Obamacare, and
environmentalism, genuine differences between Clinton and Obama existed in
2008, and her primary coalition would have pushed her in a strongly divergent
direction from his had she won. Clinton lacks Obama’s grand appetite for policy
change, and a Clinton presidency looking to working-class whites for political
support would have run as fast as possible away from Obama’s amnesty edicts.
Similarly, as Thomas Edsall has pointed out in the New York Times, the political calculus behind Obamacare cut
directly against Clinton’s blue-collar supporters: In the face of wage
stagnation, the comparatively “benefit rich” white working class reacted with
predictable hostility to a health-care scheme that disrupted the provision of a
basic good. That the scheme caused disruption with no immediate payout in
return only enhanced this sense of grievance. And finally, while Obama’s
kowtowing to Tom Steyer and other anti–Keystone XL fundamentalists might seem
positively Clintonian in its unabashed enthusiasm for campaign contributions,
it is not. If the Clintons have shown a strength at anything, it has been at
raising lots of money from a wide array of sources. The radical greens are a
narrow, affluent constituency with zero opportunity for support among
conservatives; recognizing this, Clinton would hardly have allowed them to keep
her from promoting a wildly popular infrastructure project.
***
Because Clinton lost in 2008, Obama has been able to
remake the Democratic party in the image of his primary coalition. To the white
working class, his administration has seemed fixated on parochial social
issues, overly permissive of “job-killing” immigration and trade policies,
openly hostile to the hydrocarbon industry, and reckless with the health and
future well-being of a population that has not seen its income grow in two
decades.
The political costs, for the Democrats, of this
coalitional change have been obvious. Obama has stood by, seeming almost blasé
at times, as his party’s conferences in the Congress have been painfully
culled. Democrats are arguably at their weakest at the state-government level
since the end of the Civil War. Democrats have an Obama coalition, yes. But
without the white working class, do they have a Democratic party in any meaningful
sense? It is inconceivable that Clinton would have overseen such a political
slaughter with the same indifference as Obama has.
To the Left, this is the best argument against Clinton:
She is unwilling to pay the political price required to make real change. That
is the subtext of Bernie Sanders’s jeremiad in favor of a “political
revolution.” And with the white working class now largely expelled from the
Democratic primary electorate, the ideological Left has not been this powerful
relative to other factions within the party for almost a century. Clinton was
saved only because minority voters, with a more sophisticated appreciation of
the virtues of incrementalism than the ideologues backing Sanders, came home to
Clinton.
It is ironic that Clinton has inherited this new
Democratic coalition — that she is now the symbol of a version of the
Democratic party she tried to strangle in its crib. They, candidate and party,
need each other. Yet there is little love lost between jockey and racehorse. In
respect of this mutual disdain, at least, she differs little from Trump.
And as for the blue-collar whites left behind by the
Democratic party? Hell hath no such fury. They view the Democrats with all the
affection and warmth of an ardent apostate. West Virginians exemplify this
shift. Bill Clinton carried West Virginia twice. Democrats continue to enjoy a
16-percentage-point party-registration advantage statewide. In 2008, Clinton
won West Virginia by a whopping 41-point margin over Obama. Indeed, it was in
the heat of the West Virginia primary that she infamously warned that Obama’s
support was slipping among “hard-working Americans, white Americans.”
In the general election, West Virginia chose John McCain
over Obama by more than 13 points. Four years later, the state went for Mitt
Romney by nearly 27 points. It is now one of only two red states in which Trump
consistently polls better than Romney’s 2012 general-election vote share. This
staggering swing played out again in this year’s Democratic primary. Clinton
lost West Virginia to a mathematically eliminated Sanders by 15.6 points. If
not strictly unprecedented, this sort of tectonic shift in candidate allegiance
is rare. A reliable blue-collar establishment state, indelibly shaped by New
Deal liberalism, overwhelmingly threw in its lot with an insurgent socialist
with no realistic prospect of victory rather than back the party’s presumptive
nominee.
Thus, Clinton’s camp faces a choice: once in the White
House, use policy to bring blue-collar whites back into the Democratic fold —
or give them up as lost. Those in Democratic circles opposed to reconciliation
have a few powerful arguments in their favor: Contrary to much conventional
wisdom on the right, Obama did not lose considerable chunks of the white vote
vis-à-vis his Democratic predecessors. True, his 39 percent vote among whites
was slightly on the low end; but he compensated for losses in the white working
class with gains among young whites and white college-educated professionals.
Moreover, many blue-collar white Democrats had already been voting Republican
in presidential elections for several cycles.
Clinton may have signaled her disposition on the matter
in March when, taking a stage in Ohio, she declared that “we’re going to put a
lot of coal miners and coal companies out of business.” A far cry from
“hard-working Americans, white Americans,” Clinton’s statement doubtless
contributed to the hostile reception she received in Appalachia. With it, she
ratified the Obama administration’s war on the hydrocarbon industry and
seemingly put herself on the side of a bourgeois, technocratic vision of
liberalism better suited to San Francisco than to the Mountain State.
***
Yet Clinton is not Obama. Because she cannot trust the
affections of Obama’s coalition, she will need to broaden her base in order to
defend her party in Congress and secure her prospects for reelection. Her
technocratic stylings may appeal to suburban moderates, but these voters will
look dimly on her ethical problems and tendency to exacerbate rather than
ameliorate polarization. Whereas Obama has persuaded many quarters that blame
for Washington dysfunction rests with congressional Republicans, Clinton is
flypaper for controversy. She cannot count on the indulgence of middle-class
types; she will likely see her popularity slip very shortly after she is
inaugurated.
Clinton may be the personality least well suited to
handle such a slip. Plumbing the depths of individual psychology usually
detracts from political analysis, but it cannot be avoided entirely when it
comes to the personalized, brand-heavy, and awesomely powerful presidency we
have today. Much as we might wish otherwise, the office is now more than ever
an extension of the person holding it. Presidents less and less grow into the
Oval Office; today, the Oval Office conforms to their vices.
Clinton’s personality has two conflicting yet conspicuous
elements that are relevant to politics. On one hand, she can be paranoid, a
tendency accentuated by her bevy of court parasites. She sees enemies in dark
corners and tends to ascribe adverse events to malice aforethought. On the
other hand, her ideological promiscuity is so pronounced as to be almost
admirable. The mind searches in vain for an issue on which she seems impervious
to change.
To stave off political headwinds, she will need to
simultaneously reinforce her base and broaden her appeal with precisely the
working-class whites she has managed to alienate so thoroughly. She will look
for a deal that does both. Unlike Obama on health-care exchanges, she will not
look to the Republicans. She distrusts them in her very bones, will suspect
that their ideas are laden with poison pills, and, having just vanquished them
at the ballot box, will despise them. Her aides will reinforce these views, and
so she will look to her own coalition’s ideas in search of a mast to which she
can affix her colors.
Two realistic answers will present themselves:
infrastructure spending and an increased minimum wage. The 2009 stimulus ran
aground precisely because the federal government makes it hard for itself to
build anything — so she will probably see the “Fight for 15” as the best chance
to pull together the Left, her dogged minority supporters, and the vestigial
tail of the white working class.
In 2014, non-college whites voted for the GOP by 64 percent
to 34 percent. Yet these same voters overwhelmingly supported ballot
initiatives to raise the minimum wage in Alaska, Arkansas, Nebraska, and South
Dakota. She can deploy her husband’s considerable retail political skill to
sell the issue. The former president has always been more comfortable talking
pocketbook issues than he has been tiptoeing around the combustible lines of
identity politics. While the minimum wage didn’t bolster Democratic
legislators, perhaps this time will be different. (Never mind the disastrous
economic side effects of the policy.)
Finally, Clinton finds herself in a truly unprecedented
position in terms of the Democratic party’s self-understanding. For the first
time, a political party self-consciously on the left of the ideological
spectrum will have nothing to do with the conditions, aspirations, and
struggles of what was once quaintly called the proletariat. Yes, working-class
people will remain a considerable part of the Democratic coalition, but chiefly
via the service industry or as employees of the state. The central engine of
Marx’s historical materialism — the struggle between labor and capital for
control of the means of production — will happen almost entirely outside the
ranks of, and policy priorities championed by, her party.
Arguably, Obama has been in the same position since his
first election and the mass defection of blue-collar workers described above.
But Obama’s theory of history is anchored by a notion of historical redemption
that Clinton does not share. For Obama, the arc of the moral universe bends
inexorably if unevenly toward justice as the sins of our collective past are
brought forward, acknowledged, and atoned for in one manner or another.
Marginalized groups come “out of the shadows.” We have one “national
conversation” after the next — typically about our need to have a national
conversation rather than about the subject of that conversation itself. For
Obama, if not for his coalition, politics is about recognition first and
redistribution second.
For all her rhetoric about shattering a glass ceiling,
Clinton is not driven by the same sense of historical mission as her
predecessor is. Indeed, it is unclear that she gives a damn about elevated
notions of “history” at all — one of the very few things that recommend her.
Yet if not for the working man, what becomes of the Democratic party? The
ideological Left has long since abandoned the class struggle as a major part of
its psyche, preferring to fight battles over culture and identity politics
instead. Those blocs that cling to the old teleology of labor and capital
despise Clinton utterly. She returns the favor.
Can a cartel party exist in full and unflinching
knowledge of itself as merely a distributive coalition of convenience? Can
Clinton give them something to believe in other than checks every month? One
suspects, given her insularity and severely limited political skills, that the
answer is “no.” In this sense, and this sense alone, the Democratic coalition
will come to fully mirror its unloved leader: They will be held together
largely by acquisitive purpose and externally directed loathing.
Loveless marriages can limp on for a long time and,
outside the ideological Left, Democrats have a limited appetite for rebellion.
Nonetheless, the foundations of the Democrats’ coalition are easily as feeble
as those of the Republicans’. At least Republicans will have sufficient company
in this dismal age.
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