The National Review spent last week expending an appropriate amount of mental energy on the things that really matter — like, is Obama a dangerous radical, because he knew black people? To the publication’s credit, David French answered in the negative, arguing, reasonably, that people change over time: “Law school Obama is not our president, and I’m not sure that the videos tell us much at all about the man who sits in the [O]val [O]ffice.”

Naturally, that’s not the last word on the issue. Conspiracy-theory-machine Andrew McCarthy takes his point, but still sees a radicalized Obama whose life path somehow disqualifies him from high office. To him, the President is a product of that toxic environment of liberal subterfuge — law school — and so remains a dangerous “other.” McCarthy, on the evils of the academic bar: 

I was interviewed by a reporter earlier today about the Gitmo bar’s infiltration of the Obama Justice Department. The reporter made the same point David does: While mostordinary Americans may think it radical for a lawyer to volunteer his services to file offensive lawsuits on behalf of the enemy against the United States in wartime, this is not considered radical in the legal community — there, it is “mainstream.” Well, okay … but that the radicals think of themselves as mainstream does not make them mainstream — they are still radicals. And what’s the upshot of all of this? Lawyers who thought our enemies were worth volunteering to help are now the lawyers who make counterterrorism policy for the country — something so radical as to have been inconceivable just a short time ago, but something that is happening in the Obama administration. And by working it from the inside, these lawyers are incrementally but noticeably moving the mainstream in a radical direction.

I grant that law students and faculty both occupy the far left of the mainstream political spectrum. When I started at NYU Law, coming from evenly-split Rice University in Texas, I found myself shocked (and deeply impressed) by how boldly NYU’s entire faculty staked out a progressive position on gay rights. Here was a school that apologized to its students for losing a Supreme Court case that forced them to permit recruiters from discriminatory employers (to wit, the Armed Forces Judge Advocate General) on campus, or lose >$20m worth of university-wide funding. Personally, I was more impressed that they fought the case at all, against such staggering, ultimately impossible odds.

At the time, bold opposition to the armed forces for its failed personnel policy — “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” — was extreme. Today it seems prescient: NYU’s storied Dean Revesz and his legendary practicing professor, Burt Neuborne, prefigured the repeal of DADT and the new, stable status quo by just five years. This is “extremism” in the way that progressives are always extreme: anticipating and leading the charge for valuable social changes, like desegregation, that wouldn’t happen without us.

Similarly, it’s well-known that many major law firms and professors happily joined the “Gitmo Bar.” (Though for the record, I had more professors whose prior careers involved fighting terrorism than professors who worked to exonerate detainees wrongfully imprisoned for the same.) But the product of the “Gitmo Bar’s” collective efforts was a Supreme Court decision that, in ringing terms, upbraided President Bush for effecting an end-run around the most fundamental of our rights as Americans — habeas corpus — and provided detainees with the “radical” right to a fair trial. Kennedy’s opinion for the Court makes quite clear that the true “extremists” in counterterror policy, those outside of the mainstream, working actively and efficiently to subvert basic constitutional freedoms and change the very face of our country, were the Republicans in charge of the White House, who somehow read their non-existent mandate as a license to rule like a king over anyone loosely suspected of terrorism. Here, too, the liberal legal establishment’s chosen position wasn’t “radical” — it was anti-radical, and firmly in line with what would be, soon enough, established law.

This is to say, we should never allow our positions to be styled as “radical,” or non-mainstream, especially when a five-Justice majority of the U.S. Supreme Court clearly states that we were, in fact, right all along. And to the extent that the legal academy finds itself on the periphery of the mainstream, the answer isn’t to apologize, retreat, and dutifully support the status quo. The answer is to wait. We in the legal elite live in a world of facts, precedent, and consequence, and concern ourselves with what’s right, not what’s popular. So, if history is any guide, we’ll be right soon enough.

Especially in the culture war era, many of our disagreements stem from a lack of understanding, and preconceptions about what it means to be liberal or conservative, northern or southern. Both sides of the aisle are equally guilty of building up the narrative of “difference”; take Senator Hatch’s recent, senseless dig against (I think) Brooklyn, or Obama’s unequivocally tone-deaf comment about southerners “clinging” to guns and religion. Similarly, I’ve traveled in enough liberal circles to hear honestly-felt redneck and “flyover” jokes, and enough conservative circles to hear honestly-felt suspicion about anyone who lives in New York City. I’ve also seen homophobes from small-towns become passionately pro-gay rights after actually meeting someone who is gay, and northerners give up their suspicion of the South after living there and getting to know the people (I’ve walked the latter path myself).

This is to say, the surest antidote to sociocultural biases is shared experiences. We’re not actually as different as partisan leaders would make us out to be (as the Republican Party’s losing gamble on contraception seems to prove). Bridging the cultural divide may be as easy as building a mechanism that brings us closer together, by confronting us with that central truth. A few novel ideas, then:

• High-speed rail: a population is its transportation network. Rome was its roads, the Hegemony was the farcasters, and the greater New York City area is essentially a creation of the rail companies that serve it. The LIRR and MetroNorth create the suburbs of Westchester and Long Island, enabling New Yorkers to live in one area while working in another, and forging a larger community in the process. The farther out those connections radiate, the stronger they bind the periphery to the center, changing both center and periphery along the way.  Massive infrastructure investment and its attendant benefits are far from foreign concepts to Americans — Eisenhower’s interstate system allowed Americans to explore far-flung parts of the country, and essentially spawned the idea of middle-class tourism.  Similarly, true national high-speed rail would enable us to live in distant parts of the country, and so put an end to a politics where Southerners can rail against Northerners (or vice versa) based on myths, rather than actual experience.
• Internal exchange programs: as countries go, especially compared to Europe, the United States is huge, and remarkably diverse.  The same notion that justifies foreign exchange programs — a single person, with knowledge of far-flung locales, can communicate respect and understanding to his home on return — could animate an American exchange program, where talented high school students receive scholarships to study “abroad” in California from Texas; in Atlanta from New York; in Iowa from Baltimore; etcetera. Such programs would surely draw upon private (rather than public) financing, but ideally, accomplish a real public service.

One side of the aisle disproportionately gets away with setting us against ourselves; they’ve practically built campaigns on it. But both sides are wrong to engage in the politics of social division. If we’re going to raise the level of public discourse in this country, we should start – not end — by appreciating where each of us is coming from, and spreading that message in our communities.

The notion of the legislator as a small-scale Cincinnatus, taking up the reins of power as needed but retiring thereafter to his farm, is an ideal realized by Texas, where it’s ingrained in the constitution, but approximated by many other states. (Only ten states have true, full-time legislatures, though at least in New York, the most effective legislators treat their positions as full-time.) And especially in Texas, it’s proved an unmitigated disaster. Ordinary men and women simply cannot be expected to both manage independent lives, and keep up with the realities of governing large-scale polities in the increasingly complex modern era.

Just so, it’s impractical to expect the legislator’s function to be discharged competently by laymen. That’s the theory of a recent lawsuit against the state of Colorado’s process of budgeting-by-referendum, where, plaintiffs contend, taxpayers seem unwilling to either vote the legislature the money it needs to do its job, or allow cutbacks on state obligations (like the PTA in that Simpsons episode). To no-one’s surprise, the motivating goal of modern Republicanism — to “starve the beast” — just doesn’t work, at least in Colorado.

These distinct problems are bound together by a common solution: better ethics rules, and renewed respect for the work of diligent, professional, educated politicians. Government corruption, and the disproportionate influence of lobbyists, are both true threats to American democracy. But ending the profession of civil service, or trading representative for direct government, are both extreme overreactions, akin to killing a patient to cure their cancer. I’ve had the pleasure to work for several politicians who modeled the values of true civil service, working twenty hour days, eschewing high-dollar contributions, and rigorously enforcing a true separation between the work of government and the work of politics. We need to encourage these kinds of servants, and put them in positions of power where they can make a difference, rather than relegating them to the role of the insurgent reformer.

That process starts with reversing Citizens United‘s narrow view of corruption — where only payments directly to the politician, rather than through intermediaries, evidence regulable misconduct — continues with genuine ethics reform, and ends with an electorate that recognizes and values talent in its elected officials, rather than condemning it as “elitism.”

We might frame Gingrich’s rise as the result of two competing trends in the Republican Party. On the one hand, the classical conservatism that trusts the knowledge of the “common man” over that of the educated elite, as drawn from William F. Buckley and, well, Stephen Colbert (YouTube — 1:40-2:25). And on the other hand, the new vein of Tea Party thought that fetishizes any knowledge of the founding era, especially dimly understood, disconnected, and self-serving anecdotes. If the latter trend trumps the former, Gingrich’s success makes sense, and explains why moments like his braggy promise to teach a history course from the White House don’t sink him. (As a counterfactual, imagine the Republican reaction if President Obama promised to teach a constitutional law course from the White House: “Egotistical fascist pledges to indoctrinate children,” the National Review headline would read.)

But maybe it’s simpler than that. Gingrich’s “understanding” of history manages to validate each erroneous Tea Party hunch about American history and its relevance to the modern era, marshaling an impressive set of out-of-context quotes to justify each deeply flawed plank of their theoretical platform. As an example, the Supreme Court, Gingrich explains in one “white paper” (pdf), was always meant to be weak! It’s all there in the Federalist Papers:

Whoever attentively considers the different departments of power must perceive, that, in a government in which they are separated from each other, the judiciary, from the nature of its functions, will always be the least dangerous to the political rights of the Constitution; because it will be least in a capacity to annoy or injure them. [. . .] It may truly be said to have neither FORCE nor WILL, but merely judgment; and must ultimately depend upon the aid of the executive arm even for the efficacy of its judgments.”

… So long as you imagine Hamilton was proposing rather than describing, trade the underlined “will” for a “must” or a “should,” and ignore context.

By this reading, all Gingrich has done is invent a new way to pander to the Tea Party demographic, a group already primed to accept shoddy history by pundits like Glenn Beck, and by a field equally ignorant of constitutional history. And so long as he uses his professorial persona to further their cause, he can walk the line between “constitutional scholar” and “elitist” without offending either side of the Republican coalition.

There’s a lesson here, too: if earned knowledge isn’t dangerous or “elitist,” except where it disagrees with Republican dogma, it seems to me that Republican anti-intellectualism isn’t a first principle, a deeply-held article of faith, or derived from any sort of respect for the common man. It’s just a coping mechanism, to ignore, stigmatize, or defeat a Democratic Party that’s, on the whole, better at the science of governing. Knowledge isn’t wrong; liberal knowledge is wrong. Good to know.

The root of Gingrich’s appeal is (apparently) his “intellectual,” well-thought out, and detailed explanations of his particular beliefs. From the influential PowerLine blog:

But beyond handicapping the primary campaign dynamics, Newt is doing something interesting and maybe profound: he is trying to run for president according to an older model that stresses substance over sound bytes and gimmicky, targeted campaign strategy.  (Hence the emphasis on Lincoln-Douglas style debates that de-emphasize the place of the media questioners, among other things.)  It is a bid to see whether presidential politics can still be conducted along the line of the old republic that would be more familiar to the Founders, to the style of public argument more akin to what Hamilton had in mind in talking about “refining and enlarging the public view” through “reflection and choice” in Federalist #1.

That’s certainly how Gingrich sees himself, with his promise of daily debates against Obama. Now, granted that Newt can string a thought together, support his beliefs with the appearance of evidence, and speak coherently on matters of national importance — all of which puts him head and shoulders above Perry and Cain. But that basic competence, the absolute minimum we should expect of all candidates for elected office, is also the limit of the disgraced Speaker’s depth. You might as well report a crime to a guy dressed as a police officer at a Halloween party (or to Gob Bluth) as ask Newt Gingrich for smart solutions to America’s problems.

Remember, this is a candidate who believes exactly as many crazy things as the rest of the field. His only accomplishment, and exclusive distinction from the rest, is that he attempts to ground the same hopelessly flawed arguments in a distorted picture of history. Gingrich still wants to functionally end the Supreme Court as we know it (pdf), by abrogating the power of judicial review as somehow contrary to the founding generation’s vision for the country (actual quote: “There is no Supreme Court in the American Constitution.”). He still thinks American values have absolutely no bearing on how we conduct ourselves in the war on terror. He would happily repeal (or somehow urge states to “nullify”) everything from Social Security to the Endangered Species Act. He still uses race to divide the country and says patently offensive, inflammatory things about the President at every turn — he just uses polysyllabic words to do it. He pioneered the tactic of casting one’s political opponents as traitorous, un-American scum, which is certainly clever, but it’s also evil. And he compares everyone and everything everywhere to Hitler. Seriously. Here’s a list.

In Newt Gingrich, the Republican Party has absolutely found the advocate most able to cloak a backwards, revisionist, extremist social agenda in convenient, plausible lies. Maybe his patented mix of distortion and ignorance passes for knowledge in this primary field, but it shouldn’t pass for intellectualism. Republicans like Gingrich have made a cottage industry of talking about history and the law, but that doesn’t make them scholars, just as Bill O’Reilly’s hilariously flawed “history” of Lincoln doesn’t somehow put him on the same footing as Doris Kearns Goodwin. Concerning yourself with serious things is not the same thing as actually knowing what you’re talking about.

The pledge also unduly burdens a president’s ability to appoint the most qualified individuals to a broad array of key positions in the federal government. I would expect every one of my appointees to carry out my policies on abortion and every other issue, irrespective of their personal views.

Emphasis mine. “Undue burden” is the rubric used by the Supreme Court to evaluate the constitutionality of restrictions on abortion ever since Casey. And, that decision came out well after Mitt graduated law school in 1975. We talk about dog whistle racism, but what about dog whistle intellectualism? Mitt’s a smart guy, we know; maybe this is his nod to supporters that, even though he can’t act smart, he actually knows what he’s talking about. Whether he’d act that way as President, well…

I’ve since come to dread this question, and learned to either hedge, or lie. Because with my answer – Buckhead – the conversation ended. You see, Buckhead is a wealthy neighborhood, and infamous for producing smarmy, entitled types. Neither I nor my family fit that mold, but it didn’t matter. I’d suddenly become a new person in the eyes of our line companions. The stereotype trumped an interaction that had been, until then, quite pleasant.

Similarly, leaving Texas yesterday afternoon, I was absolutely unable to convince a flight attendant that, yes, I was sad to be returning to New York. I miss my college friends! And Texas beauty is something that New York can’t replicate, for all of its charms. But she was having none of it. What could a New Yorker see in Texas?! Best hurry back to the big city… with an implied, “where you belong.”

It’s axiomatic that stereotypes are sad, limiting, and never do justice to the individuals they describe. But they’re also persistent, and very real. This, I think, is what’s always bothered me about the “culture wars” — “real” vs. “fake” America, and red meat appeals to small-town vs. big-city values. The more we’re told we’re different, the more we become different.

Safe to say this guy isn’t getting Carl Kassel’s voice on his home answering machine. But he’s also wrong, for two reasons.

First, his argument seems to be premised on a fallacy. If NPR exists only because of government money, such that pulling government funding would kill the network, this seems to be a concession that the “quality” broadcasting model isn’t sustainable on private funds alone. If that’s true, NPR is preventing precisely no profitable businesses from entering the market, because the necessary predicate to the argument, that NPR fails on private money alone, proves that the author’s business model is simply not sustainable. Maybe the paltry amount of money NPR receives from the government is enough to give the network a competitive edge it’s able to leverage to keep out competitors. But that’s not the argument that’s being made here, and it’s separately wrong.

Second, regardless of the amount of money NPR needs from the government, the network’s ability to avoid the free market, in part, is probably uniquely responsible for its ability to provide the kind of quality content our author purports to be interested in offering. Faced with the corrosive influence of the Fox model, and the need to appeal to the lowest common denominator, very few businessmen will be able to, or even try to, resist the temptation to pander. Quality, nonbiased reporting is quite possibly one of those rare commodities for which the public will not pay, but which it desperately needs: if we can’t legally regulate speech content whatsoever (even through network ownership caps or “fairness doctrines”), the unavoidable conclusion is that the vigorous American first amendment has turned  “good journalism” into a public good. Private actors have no incentive to produce it; therefore, the government must.

Public broadcasting, then, is the best of several bad solutions to a very serious problem. How does a free nation remain free, when that very liberty depends on its citizens doing something that many would rather not do — remain informed about world events — and the government can neither force nor incentivize citizens towards that goal? The right’s feeble constitutionalism, possibly by design, can offer no answer to this difficult question.

Oh, and a closing note: to the author’s passing criticism, that the Public Broadcasting Act may fall outside of Congress’ enumerated powers, the general welfare clause (Art. I, § 8, cl. 1) sweeps pretty broadly. And besides, no private actor would have standing to challenge the Act’s constitutionality. Even a prospective competitor’s interest — the closest one gets to a cognizable, redressable injury here — is by definition prospective and therefore insufficient.

First, the Republican’s headliners this year (Palin, Boehner, the others spotlighted by the article) are ignorant, and that is dangerous. Second, those candidates, and others, embrace the label in a truer way than even Andrew Jackson did. And third, such condescension, if it exists, is not exactly one sided. Liberals look down on conservatives for not thinking policies through beyond the visceral level (often a fair point); conservatives look down on liberals as un-American monsters either ignorant of the country’s uniqueness, or happy to sell it for a slice of Old World glamor. The former is a debating point; the latter, an attempt to actively divide the nation; and neither, of course, is fair. But why is it that the right gets a free pass, daily, when it writes us off?