The Same Old Political Circus

Aren’t you glad the Georgia primary is finally over? The mudslinging was so bad that I had to change shirts every time I opened the mailbox. I know what every candidate for governor is against, but I can’t figure out what any of them are for. I’m reminded of Will Rogers’ quip: “The more you read and observe about this politics thing, the more you’ve got to admit that each party is worse than the other.”

I’ve always been wary of the political class, but not half as skeptical as some of my favorite writers. George Bernard Shaw observed: “He knows nothing; and he thinks he knows everything. That points clearly to a political career.” Mark Twain was more brutal: “Suppose you were an idiot, and suppose you were a member of Congress, but I repeat myself.” There is also that old cynical chestnut, so often misattributed to Twain: “Politicians and diapers must be changed often, and for the same reason.” The most acerbic—and funniest—was H.L. Mencken: “A good politician is quite as unthinkable as an honest burglar.” And none of these guys had social media or cable news.

The Founders tended to frame public service as a civic duty rather than a profession. I still suspect that, with rare exceptions, wanting political office is the surest sign you shouldn’t have it. Why would rational people place themselves under such intense scrutiny? I don’t see the reward of power compensating for endless criticism. Maybe I underestimate the ecstasy of seeing one’s name on yard signs all over the county.

So, what is the winning campaign strategy? It seems to be fear. Mencken noted: “The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence clamorous to be led to safety) by menacing it with an endless series of hobgoblins, all of them imaginary.” This seems perniciously true. Ernest Benn echoes these sentiments less harshly: “Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it everywhere, diagnosing it incorrectly, and applying the wrong remedies.” He forgot to add that you then run for reelection on the platform of cleaning up the messes you made, while blaming them on others.

If that sounds abstract, consider a recent race closer to home. A Fayette County Commission candidate ran on the promise to save us from data center proliferation, even though the county commission has no regulatory power over the cities that approve the data centers—a perfect illustration of how fear beats facts nine times out of ten. It turned out to be a winning strategy. This confirms Ambrose Bierce’s assertion: “The most gifted politician is the one who can make the most people believe the most preposterous lies.” 

A line often attributed to Winston Churchill candidly describes candidate dexterity: “A politician is able to foretell what is going to happen tomorrow, next week, next month, and next year—and to explain afterward why it didn’t happen.” I couldn’t even look in a mirror and pull this off; they don’t even blink for the camera.

Imaginary hobgoblins rarely make me shudder, but sowing dissension in our Republic gives me the willies. Henry Adams was succinct: “Politics, as a practice, whatever its professions, has always been the systematic organization of hatreds.” That stings. Robert Heinlein showed how politicians exploit this odium: “You can sway a thousand men by appealing to their prejudices quicker than you can convince one man by logic.”

That kind of prejudice gives me pause. I can lament my country’s polarization and curse my county’s inability to spot a charlatan, but hating our fellow citizens is a recipe for disaster. Perhaps Shaw is correct: “Democracy is a device that ensures we shall be governed no better than we deserve.” 

My ideal candidate doesn’t exist. He would be drafted against his will into running, eschew a political party, avoid campaign promises, and govern using common sense. He would not be a politician at all. He would be a statesman. 

And for what it’s worth, every quote in this column is at least seventy years old—proof that our political circus hasn’t changed its acts, only its costumes.