Wayne O'Leary

Working the Middle

Although the main threat to Joe Biden’s Democratic recovery program is portrayed in the media as the Republican extreme right, the Trumpian hard core personified by the likes of conspiracists Matt Gaetz and Marjorie Taylor Greene, the real danger to economic renewal lies elsewhere. It resides in the ranks of the much-celebrated congressional centrists, most of them members of the president’s own party.

As presently defined, a centrist is someone who values bipartisanship above all else, who eschews all ideology (assuming centrism itself is not an actual ideology); who favors preemptive compromise; who believes political deals should be the ultimate aim of democratic government; who will accept a half-loaf or a quarter-loaf or even a few crumbs, if only party amity and institutional harmony can be preserved; who could just as easily wear the other side’s colors, given the right circumstances. In a world of blue and red, a centrist aspires to the color purple in its various hues.

Centrists are people who ascertain the political lay of the land, picking a party affiliation as they would a suit of clothes — on the basis of style. If they reside in a Democratic state, they’ll usually be Democrats; if identifying Republican is the easiest avenue to public office, they’ll typically be Republicans. The party label is just a flag of convenience. This approach can get centrists into trouble at times; it’s produced the scorned acronyms RINO (Republican in name only) and DINO (Democrat in name only). Centrists have to tread carefully to avoid alienating their party base.

Another characteristic of centrists is a desire to “cross the aisle” in search of bipartisan alliances. Democratic officeholders in conservative states can chalk up brownie points with their majority constituency at home by cultivating the other side in Congress, thereby appearing reasonable and ideologically moderate. Similarly, Republicans running in liberal states can curry favor with progressive voters by suggesting they are less conservative than they really are.

Breaking ranks with one’s own party, either rhetorically or by casting contrary votes, is also a time-honored way to establish an independent image with the folks back home, especially in the current environment characterized as it is by broad public distain for party politics and for anyone seen as a professional politician. Ironically, the prevailing demand for politicians who appear not to be politicians fits nicely with the bipartisan shuffle most centrists have mastered.

Certain states are particularly conducive to centrism as an operating philosophy. Joe Biden’s Delaware is home to two centrist Democratic senators, Chris Coons and Thomas Carper, both of whom voted against inclusion of a $15/hr. minimum wage in the American Rescue Plan Act, not unexpected considering Delaware’s reputation as a finance-friendly state with lenient laws on business incorporation and corporate taxation. New Hampshire, the most conservative state in the liberal Northeast (one reason why it shouldn’t host the first Democratic presidential primary) is another case in point. Its two Democratic senators, Jeanne Shaheen and Maggie Hassan, also opposed the increased minimum wage. In addition, Shaheen partnered with fellow party centrist Joe Manchin of West Virginia to weaken benefits in the president’s stimulus package.

One of the things that sets centrists of both parties apart is a very pro-business attitude; centrists are not “socialists.” Among GOP senators, whose party has virtually been the activist arm of the US Chamber of Commerce for decades, this stance is unsurprising. The bipartisanship of Republican centrists tends to be limited to social issues; Corporate America is where their fundamental sympathies lie, and on economic policy they’re almost without exception down-the-line conservatives. Alaska’s Lisa Murkowski, for example, is a champion of the oil industry and an enthusiastic longtime supporter of drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.

Similarly, fellow GOP “moderate” Susan Collins, whose background includes a stint teaching business at a Maine college, voted for the 2017 Trump corporate tax cut and recently announced her strong opposition to the Biden-endorsed Protecting the Right to Organize (or PRO) Act aimed at strengthening unions, calling it bad for business. For most of the Obama years, Collins was the leading practitioner of Senate centrism, the prima donna whose key vote the Democratic president had to cultivate and secure to accomplish anything. This continued into the Trump years, when her vote became crucial for Senate Democrats trying to prevent the worst of Trump’s depredations.

Collins, like most centrists, loves the attention, loves being courted; she is forever on the fence (supposedly) agonizing over decisions, forever “concerned.” But in the end, especially on the big issues (the tax cut, the Kavanaugh nomination), she votes the GOP party line. This is the established pattern for Maine’s successful Republican centrists running statewide in a blue-trending state; that is, cast sufficient high-profile votes against their party’s positions to appear moderate, then vote the party position on most important matters. Collins, for instance, supported Trump 70% of the time between 2017 and 2020.

Now, however, the wheel has turned. In the era of Biden, there are two new centrist prima donnas in town, and they’re Democrats with Trump-supporting resumes. West Virginian Joe Manchin gets most of the media attention, but Arizonan Kyrsten Sinema is just as problematic for the Biden program. With a 50-50 Senate, the president needs them both, and they know it.

Like Susan Collins, both Democrats have educational backgrounds in business — Manchin was a college business administration major; Sinema taught business law — and both have a soft spot for corporate interests and the wealthy. They each dislike the $15/hr. minimum wage and the PRO Act, although Manchin, feeling pressure in a heavily unionized state, has reversed his opposition to the latter. Manchin also rejects the administration’s proposed hike in the corporate income tax, preferring to keep it among the lowest in the world.

Sinema, a former Green Party critic of capitalism, discovered working the middle as a pro-business centrist Democrat was a better career move in affluent, increasingly purplish Arizona and the route to Collins-like influence in Washington. This epiphany led eventually to House and Senate votes against the Green New Deal, for repeal of the estate tax, and in favor of making the 2017 Trump individual tax cuts permanent. Most critical, Sinema, like Joe Manchin, is firmly opposed to filibuster reform, no doubt pleasing Mitch McConnell and frustrating Joe Biden.

With Democratic friends like these, who needs Republican enemies?

Wayne O’Leary is a writer in Orono, Maine, specializing in political economy. He holds a doctorate in American history and is the author of two prizewinning books.

From The Progressive Populist, June 15, 2021

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