In conventional analysis, one of our political parties is in favor of a very strong military and in favor of government imposition of particular standards of comprehensive morality but opposed to government regulation of the economy and the other party favors a (somewhat) weaker military and more vigorous civil liberties, but greater economic intervention. Libertarians like to make fun of this. Neither party makes any sense!, they say. One party supports economic but not social liberty, while the other supports social but not economic liberty. Neither party has genuine internal philosophical cohesion, they say.
I say, that is only true if, like most libertarians, you insist upon framing every single issue in terms of the word "liberty." It's a perfectly good word. In general, more liberty is a good thing. But the thing is, there are other ways to see the world. And there's one alternative way to view politics that makes the standard partisan division in most every liberal democracy look a lot more sensible: power.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
The Strange Obsession With Federalism
The Seventeenth Amendment, which made Senators elected by direct popular vote rather than selected by state legislatures, was a bad, bad thing, we are told. By drastically weakening the influence of the state governments upon the national government, the 17th Amendment threw American federalism all out of whack. Ever since then, there has been no effective power in the national government favoring the preservation of the power of state governments, and so the federal government has been appropriating more and more power onto itself. And this is bad, we are told.
Why is it bad? The Senators elected directly by the people are willing to vote for an overall federal policy that has the federal government exercising more power than a Senate chosen by state governments would. Okay. To me, as someone who believes both in democracy in general and in making democracy relatively non-convoluted, it strikes me that the problem is obviously on the side of the pre-17th Amendment-style Senate. Roughly speaking, "the Senate elected by the people" is the will of the people. So saying that the post-17th Amendment Senate has acquiesced to large expansions of federal power is saying that the people have made that acquiescence. Is there a problem here? If the American people tire of the old balance of power between the states and Washington, is there a principled reason why they shouldn't be allowed to change it? Should we bake in an institutional bias into the system that always over-accounts for the interests of state governments?
As an aside, it's not entirely true, necessarily, to say that federal power has expanded. Usage of federal power has expanded, there's no doubt about that. Say the federal government started exercising a lot more power beginning in 1937, the year the Supreme Court ratified the Second New Deal as Constitutional, and let's also say that the Court would not have upheld similar usages of federal power pre-1937. There are three possibilities. The first is that the Court would have been wrong in striking down the New Deal pre-'37. The second is that the Court has been wrong in allowing the New Deal and its progeny post-'37. The third is that something about the true, underlying constitutional order changed in 1937. There are a lot of people who believe that Door #2 is in fact the correct answer, and at least one of them is on the Supreme Court. Most, though, tend to think that the Court was mainly wrong in striking down parts of the New Deal before 1937, and that in truth most of the modern federal government is constitutional. But if you think that, then those things have been Constitutional forever, it's just that the federal government chose as a matter of policy not to do them. (Forever, or until as far back as you need to go to find a Constitutional Amendment that makes a difference.)
If you assume that the underlying true constitutional order does not actually change when the Constitution is not amended, then I would actually assert that the 17th Amendment, while it definitely changed the structure of American federalism in and of itself, did not create a climate that further eroded federalism. The net changes to the Constitution since 1913 have been either expansions of the franchise (which is admittedly a restriction on state power, but I think it's one most people would consider good) or relatively federalism-neutral things like fixing Presidential succession and establishing term limits for the President. Yes, the directly-elected Senate has probably been more willing to use the power the federal government is now generally admitted to possess. And it's possible that an indirect Senate like that of the old regime would have had a bias against confirming Justices who would interpret the Constitution in the way we typically consider correct nowadays. But that's a bug, not a feature.
Why is it bad? The Senators elected directly by the people are willing to vote for an overall federal policy that has the federal government exercising more power than a Senate chosen by state governments would. Okay. To me, as someone who believes both in democracy in general and in making democracy relatively non-convoluted, it strikes me that the problem is obviously on the side of the pre-17th Amendment-style Senate. Roughly speaking, "the Senate elected by the people" is the will of the people. So saying that the post-17th Amendment Senate has acquiesced to large expansions of federal power is saying that the people have made that acquiescence. Is there a problem here? If the American people tire of the old balance of power between the states and Washington, is there a principled reason why they shouldn't be allowed to change it? Should we bake in an institutional bias into the system that always over-accounts for the interests of state governments?
As an aside, it's not entirely true, necessarily, to say that federal power has expanded. Usage of federal power has expanded, there's no doubt about that. Say the federal government started exercising a lot more power beginning in 1937, the year the Supreme Court ratified the Second New Deal as Constitutional, and let's also say that the Court would not have upheld similar usages of federal power pre-1937. There are three possibilities. The first is that the Court would have been wrong in striking down the New Deal pre-'37. The second is that the Court has been wrong in allowing the New Deal and its progeny post-'37. The third is that something about the true, underlying constitutional order changed in 1937. There are a lot of people who believe that Door #2 is in fact the correct answer, and at least one of them is on the Supreme Court. Most, though, tend to think that the Court was mainly wrong in striking down parts of the New Deal before 1937, and that in truth most of the modern federal government is constitutional. But if you think that, then those things have been Constitutional forever, it's just that the federal government chose as a matter of policy not to do them. (Forever, or until as far back as you need to go to find a Constitutional Amendment that makes a difference.)
If you assume that the underlying true constitutional order does not actually change when the Constitution is not amended, then I would actually assert that the 17th Amendment, while it definitely changed the structure of American federalism in and of itself, did not create a climate that further eroded federalism. The net changes to the Constitution since 1913 have been either expansions of the franchise (which is admittedly a restriction on state power, but I think it's one most people would consider good) or relatively federalism-neutral things like fixing Presidential succession and establishing term limits for the President. Yes, the directly-elected Senate has probably been more willing to use the power the federal government is now generally admitted to possess. And it's possible that an indirect Senate like that of the old regime would have had a bias against confirming Justices who would interpret the Constitution in the way we typically consider correct nowadays. But that's a bug, not a feature.
The Conventional Wisdom Is Wrong, Part N
Jose Reyes has often seemed like one of the best lead-off hitters in the game. For several years he blew away the rest of the league in terms of stolen bases, and on top of that he routinely racked up double-digit triples and a similar number of home runs. And he played shortstop. A great, great player, right? Well, there was just one problem: his on-base percentage. For his career it's just .335, which is not very high when you come right down to it. Even in his best years, 2006-08, he only put up a .355 OBP. And people say that OBP is really the most important thing for a leadoff hitter: you're supposed to get on base and let the big bats behind you drive you in. Steals are nice, but they're ultimately just the frills; on-base percentage is really what makes a great leadoff hitter. And .355, the thinking is, just isn't that good an OBP for a supposedly-great leadoff hitter.
But is that last bit even remotely correct? Well, consider the following: suppose that the Mets had had nothing but the '06-'08 Reyes leading off for them last year, with a .355 OBP. Among the 30 Major League teams, that would have ranked them 5th in terms of the OBP of their leadoff position, and just fractionally behind the other four. A Derek Jeter/Brett Gardner combo for the Yankees posted .358, with Gardner significantly boosting Jeter's performance. Ichiro Suzuki had .360 for the Mariners, aided by a .315 average. Rickie Weeks led the Brewers to .361. Finally, an amalgam of Stephen Drew, Chris Young, and Kelly Johnson in Phoeniz put up .368, which I think might have a little something to do with the ballpark they play in. That's it.
So why, again, do we think that .355 OBP for a guy with genuine power and the ability to steal 50 bases routinely is not good enough? Oh, Reyes, you're only in the top-5 in the league among leadoff hitters in this one thing, while being far and away the best at this other thing that's also kind of important. That's just not good enough. Like, seriously? That's ridiculous. Now, if Reyes can't recover his peak form and toodles along as his career .335-type guy, well, that would make him 10th in the league, still distinctly top half but not really much better than average. And that would be unfortunate. Likewise, it would be amazing if he could improve on it; if Reyes plays every day with a .380 OBP, I can tell you right now he would deserve to be league MVP.
The point is, I think, that people compare him to the .401 OBP career from Rickey Henderson. But here's the thing: there's a reason Rickey is the best lead-off hitter of all time by a large margin. He had something, some magic. Reyes is not as good a hitter as Rickey Henderson was. It's a shame. If he were, I think he might be looking at making a run for Rickey's steals record. But he's not. That doesn't mean, however, that he can't be the best lead-off hitter in the game today with his .355 on-base percentage. He absolutely can.
But is that last bit even remotely correct? Well, consider the following: suppose that the Mets had had nothing but the '06-'08 Reyes leading off for them last year, with a .355 OBP. Among the 30 Major League teams, that would have ranked them 5th in terms of the OBP of their leadoff position, and just fractionally behind the other four. A Derek Jeter/Brett Gardner combo for the Yankees posted .358, with Gardner significantly boosting Jeter's performance. Ichiro Suzuki had .360 for the Mariners, aided by a .315 average. Rickie Weeks led the Brewers to .361. Finally, an amalgam of Stephen Drew, Chris Young, and Kelly Johnson in Phoeniz put up .368, which I think might have a little something to do with the ballpark they play in. That's it.
So why, again, do we think that .355 OBP for a guy with genuine power and the ability to steal 50 bases routinely is not good enough? Oh, Reyes, you're only in the top-5 in the league among leadoff hitters in this one thing, while being far and away the best at this other thing that's also kind of important. That's just not good enough. Like, seriously? That's ridiculous. Now, if Reyes can't recover his peak form and toodles along as his career .335-type guy, well, that would make him 10th in the league, still distinctly top half but not really much better than average. And that would be unfortunate. Likewise, it would be amazing if he could improve on it; if Reyes plays every day with a .380 OBP, I can tell you right now he would deserve to be league MVP.
The point is, I think, that people compare him to the .401 OBP career from Rickey Henderson. But here's the thing: there's a reason Rickey is the best lead-off hitter of all time by a large margin. He had something, some magic. Reyes is not as good a hitter as Rickey Henderson was. It's a shame. If he were, I think he might be looking at making a run for Rickey's steals record. But he's not. That doesn't mean, however, that he can't be the best lead-off hitter in the game today with his .355 on-base percentage. He absolutely can.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Does No One Remember the Southern Strategy?
Jon Chait has a piece arguing that, while the Tea Party genuinely does not pursue a racist political agenda, Tea Party members do hold a distinctive and deeply regressive set of opinions about racial issues. They think, for example, that anti-white racism is as big a problem as anti-black racism much more than other people, or that too much has been made of the problems facing black Americans. But, Chait says (and as far as I know he's right about this), they don't push the racial part of their ideology very much at all as a part of their public agenda.
Uh, obviously.
That's the whole point of the Southern Strategy. When Nixon decided to make an explicit play for white Southern racist voters in '68, and especially in '72, the point was not to talk about race. Rather, it was to talk about other things like welfare or crime or whatever. To the untrained ear, this sounded like it was just Nixon pursuing his conservative, law-&-order agenda. But to the racist, it sounded like what it was meant as: "let's go get those welfare-dependent, law-breaking ******s!" Dog-whistle politics. The way to do racist politics is to not talk about race, but subtly hint, in a way that those who are racists themselves will recognize, that you will pursue anti-black policies, or just that you sympathize with the racists, or something.
So consider the Tea Party. Its members hold anti-black views much more than the general populace does. Their leaders like to spend a lot of time talking about how our President, who was born in Hawaii and spent most of his life in places like Chicago, is actually a foreigner and there's been a massive conspiracy to pretend he's an American. Or that our President, who both describes himself as Christian and appears to be much more comfortable than other recent Democrats when discussing his own faith, is in reality a secret Muslim. Both are claims that would never ever in a billion years be made against a white President. Sure, people made crazy accusations against Clinton, like the whole "murder" thing, but you can tell by the fact that the specific tone of Obama's crazy accusations that they're racially derived.
Finally we have the Tea Party's agenda. The thing about the Tea Party's agenda is that it's incoherent. The only constant that I've ever seen is that anything at all that President Obama supports is evil wicked socialism that will destroy the world, and must be opposed to the utmost. Giving states increased flexibility to implement health-care laws three years earlier than would otherwise happen, a proposal that there is literally no coherent argument against? Nope. Oppose it. Never mind that it literally is a Republican proposal, right now, let alone in 1994 or even two years ago. It's all a part of the creeping tyranny. To my mind, that kind of agenda suggests strongly a personal animus against Obama himself, and a very strong one. Hmmm, what might that animus be?
And, of course, to the extent that the Tea Party does actually have an agenda or an ideology, it's a carbon copy, if not a distillation, of the same old dog-whistle issues. To the brain of a racist, "let's cut government spending" means "let's cut government handouts to black people."
The birtherism stuff is racist. The "party members" themselves are relatively speaking racist. The agenda is designed to appeal to racial animus. In what way is this not a racist movement?
(Standard disclaimer: many who identify with the Tea Party are not racist at all; it's a large movement (in absolute terms) and therefore contains a large amount of variety and, well, okay, not much diversity, but you get the point. I'm talking in the aggregate here.)
Uh, obviously.
That's the whole point of the Southern Strategy. When Nixon decided to make an explicit play for white Southern racist voters in '68, and especially in '72, the point was not to talk about race. Rather, it was to talk about other things like welfare or crime or whatever. To the untrained ear, this sounded like it was just Nixon pursuing his conservative, law-&-order agenda. But to the racist, it sounded like what it was meant as: "let's go get those welfare-dependent, law-breaking ******s!" Dog-whistle politics. The way to do racist politics is to not talk about race, but subtly hint, in a way that those who are racists themselves will recognize, that you will pursue anti-black policies, or just that you sympathize with the racists, or something.
So consider the Tea Party. Its members hold anti-black views much more than the general populace does. Their leaders like to spend a lot of time talking about how our President, who was born in Hawaii and spent most of his life in places like Chicago, is actually a foreigner and there's been a massive conspiracy to pretend he's an American. Or that our President, who both describes himself as Christian and appears to be much more comfortable than other recent Democrats when discussing his own faith, is in reality a secret Muslim. Both are claims that would never ever in a billion years be made against a white President. Sure, people made crazy accusations against Clinton, like the whole "murder" thing, but you can tell by the fact that the specific tone of Obama's crazy accusations that they're racially derived.
Finally we have the Tea Party's agenda. The thing about the Tea Party's agenda is that it's incoherent. The only constant that I've ever seen is that anything at all that President Obama supports is evil wicked socialism that will destroy the world, and must be opposed to the utmost. Giving states increased flexibility to implement health-care laws three years earlier than would otherwise happen, a proposal that there is literally no coherent argument against? Nope. Oppose it. Never mind that it literally is a Republican proposal, right now, let alone in 1994 or even two years ago. It's all a part of the creeping tyranny. To my mind, that kind of agenda suggests strongly a personal animus against Obama himself, and a very strong one. Hmmm, what might that animus be?
And, of course, to the extent that the Tea Party does actually have an agenda or an ideology, it's a carbon copy, if not a distillation, of the same old dog-whistle issues. To the brain of a racist, "let's cut government spending" means "let's cut government handouts to black people."
The birtherism stuff is racist. The "party members" themselves are relatively speaking racist. The agenda is designed to appeal to racial animus. In what way is this not a racist movement?
(Standard disclaimer: many who identify with the Tea Party are not racist at all; it's a large movement (in absolute terms) and therefore contains a large amount of variety and, well, okay, not much diversity, but you get the point. I'm talking in the aggregate here.)
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
And So It Begins
First Newt Gingrich and now Trent Franks (R-AZ) have stated in public that they think Barack Obama's decision to stop defending the constitutionality of the Defense of Marriage Act in federal court is an impeachable offense. Never mind that this is perhaps the single most absurd claim anyone has ever made. If Obama were planning on ceasing to enforce the law before it was even struck down, then you could construct an argument that this was a breach of the responsibility to "take care that the laws be faithfully executed." Even in that case, though, there have been lots of people through history who argued that the President may stop enforcing a law he thinks is unconstitutional. These people tend to be advocates of executive power, which is something that has by and large been a right-wing thing of late (although it does vary by who the executive is at any given time). The Eisenhower Justice Department filed an amicus brief in Brown expressing support for the plaintiffs (a.k.a. the good side). It's routine for the current Administration to argue in court that a law is unconstitutional. Hell, Bush routinely just refused to implement a law he didn't like, and Republicans loved it. The idea that this is an impeachable offense is just ridiculous.
But, as I said, that is not the point. The point is that I have been saying for a while now that Obama would be impeached by this Congress. And not because anyone in the party hierarchy wants to impeach him, or thinks it would be a good strategic move. No. He would be impeached because something would happen, some sort of mini-scandal or whatever, and some Republicans would decide it was impeachable. And then, given the fact that no Republican is ever allowed to say anything that's any more reasonable than anything any other Republican has said, even more Republicans will get on the bandwagon. And suddenly it will become the single most pressing demand of the Republican base. After all, it makes perfect sense: if Obama's an evil socialist Muslim Kenyan whose entire Presidency is unconstitutional, then, hey, why haven't you impeached him for that already? And then John Boehner will have very little choice but to accede to the tide of popular sentiment.
So here we have our first little mini-scandal, except that it's not even a scandal at all, and we see both a leading Presidential candidate (who knows a little something about frivolous impeachments) and a member of the House Judiciary committee calling for Obama's impeachment over it. If this goes all the way to the Senate (where the trial would really just be for show, because there's no chance in hell they'd convict), you heard it here first.
But, as I said, that is not the point. The point is that I have been saying for a while now that Obama would be impeached by this Congress. And not because anyone in the party hierarchy wants to impeach him, or thinks it would be a good strategic move. No. He would be impeached because something would happen, some sort of mini-scandal or whatever, and some Republicans would decide it was impeachable. And then, given the fact that no Republican is ever allowed to say anything that's any more reasonable than anything any other Republican has said, even more Republicans will get on the bandwagon. And suddenly it will become the single most pressing demand of the Republican base. After all, it makes perfect sense: if Obama's an evil socialist Muslim Kenyan whose entire Presidency is unconstitutional, then, hey, why haven't you impeached him for that already? And then John Boehner will have very little choice but to accede to the tide of popular sentiment.
So here we have our first little mini-scandal, except that it's not even a scandal at all, and we see both a leading Presidential candidate (who knows a little something about frivolous impeachments) and a member of the House Judiciary committee calling for Obama's impeachment over it. If this goes all the way to the Senate (where the trial would really just be for show, because there's no chance in hell they'd convict), you heard it here first.
A Little Respect, Please?
Ruben Tejada led the Mets in hits in Spring Training last year, at the age of twenty. He's one off the pace so far in Spring Training this year, with his four hits (through eight at-bats for both) trailing only Fernando Martinez's five. Three of his four singles have driven in runs, so together with Russ Adams he leads the Mets in RBI at this stage. On his Minor League career, his basic hitting stats are .273/.343/.353, and the results in AA and AAA the last two years have been comparable to that pace at worst. (Note that another young, exciting Mets middle-infield prospect put up minor league numbers of .284/.337/.422, which are a total of .010 away from Jose Reyes' major-league .286/.335/.434 line.) Last September and October Tejada hit .284/.364/.433 in 79 PA, a very Reyes-like performance minus the blinding speed. So I ask you, whence the general sense that he is not someone who will be able to handle Major League pitching, now or ever?
I guess it must be from the fact that in his other 176 PA last year, which you'll note is not a much larger sample, Tejada hit just .181/.279/.215. But why would we believe that small sample, as opposed to the small samples that say he actually can handle himself decently and the slightly-bigger sample that suggests that he'll be able to handle himself decently once he matures? No, Ruben Tejada will never be Albert Pujols, but a brilliant defensive middle infielder who can put up decent 8-hitter-style numbers at the plate? Isn't that the kind of player who could be distinctly useful for a team? I hear he's even bulked up a little bit and is showing a bit more power right now. The Mets are what ought to be a fairly heavy-hitting team; the Reyes/Pagan/Wright/Beltran/Bay/Davis lineup is really quite intimidating if they're all there and playing remotely like themselves. If Tejada were our second baseman, we'd be one of the elite defensive teams in the league, I think. Are we really so sure that Daniel Murphy is a categorically better hitter, anyway? In his only full year of play, which was also his only year playing from CitiField, Murphy hit .266/.313/.427. I think it's obvious that Luis Castillo would be worse than Tejada both offensively and defensively. So if Tejada continues to play well this spring, I hope Terry Collins has the sense to realize that there's no reason to think he can't hold his own in the big leagues.
I guess it must be from the fact that in his other 176 PA last year, which you'll note is not a much larger sample, Tejada hit just .181/.279/.215. But why would we believe that small sample, as opposed to the small samples that say he actually can handle himself decently and the slightly-bigger sample that suggests that he'll be able to handle himself decently once he matures? No, Ruben Tejada will never be Albert Pujols, but a brilliant defensive middle infielder who can put up decent 8-hitter-style numbers at the plate? Isn't that the kind of player who could be distinctly useful for a team? I hear he's even bulked up a little bit and is showing a bit more power right now. The Mets are what ought to be a fairly heavy-hitting team; the Reyes/Pagan/Wright/Beltran/Bay/Davis lineup is really quite intimidating if they're all there and playing remotely like themselves. If Tejada were our second baseman, we'd be one of the elite defensive teams in the league, I think. Are we really so sure that Daniel Murphy is a categorically better hitter, anyway? In his only full year of play, which was also his only year playing from CitiField, Murphy hit .266/.313/.427. I think it's obvious that Luis Castillo would be worse than Tejada both offensively and defensively. So if Tejada continues to play well this spring, I hope Terry Collins has the sense to realize that there's no reason to think he can't hold his own in the big leagues.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
The Coolest Analysis I've Seen In A Long Time
Nate Silver just published a piece about the probability distribution of voting patterns in the U.S. based on demography. It's fascinating. The charts with specific subgroups highlighted toward the bottom is especially cool.
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