There’s an ancient dilemma here. Government should reflect the will of the people, but often what the people want isn’t good for them. The Founding Fathers recognized and feared this quandary. They strove to create a government strong enough to be effective and restrained enough to avoid recklessness. They placed some hope in enlightened legislators who might “refine … the public views " to “discern the [country’s] true interest, " as James Madison wrote in “The Federalist, " No. 10. Much of today’s political frustration stems from the failure of our leaders to attain Madison’s lofty ideal.
Government now generally gives people what they want. Americans rebel against both higher taxes and fewer government services. The result: the staggering budget deficits that Rudman deplores. But why, then, are people mad at their politicians? The answer is that Americans intuitively grasp Madison’s message, even if they haven’t read the Federalist Papers. Our elected leaders are supposed to make choices, even at some risk to themselves, that we can’t make for ourselves.
Their dilemma is genuine. Up to a point, politicians should reflect public opinion and constituents’ demands. How else can government be made responsive to popular gripes and hopes? How else can people protect themselves against arbitrary actions or loony bureaucrats? Nor can politicians easily alter public opinion to persuade people to sacrifice their immediate interests to serve some larger, vaguer public good. Anyone (like me) who writes about contentious subjects appreciates this firsthand.
In general, people aren’t open-minded. Their opinions are typically changed by harsh experience, not gentle reason. Evidence and logic don’t count for much. Whenever I suggest even modest curbs on spending for the elderly, I’m called by Mr. Jackson, an irate reader. He berates me for ignorance and insensitivity. No amount of information on the well-being of many of the elderly or their growing share of federal spending (now about a third, rising toward a half) can shift his views.
What I get in small doses, politicians receive in huge torrents. Their hard task is to maintain a crude balance between popular pressures and a larger concept of national interest. Our predicament today is that the balance has been all but lost. A healthy respect for public opinion has become a slavish devotion, motivated by the desire to be re-elected. This, I surmise, is what finally exasperated Rudman.
You can see the results in much of Washington’s handiwork. Consider the House of Representatives’ recent debate of the Higher Education Act, which provides about $21 billion annually in grants and federally guaranteed loans to college and trade-school students. This is a subject about which I’ve written repeatedly. Government should, I argue, require students to pass a minimum test to qualify for aid. It’s an educational benefit, and students ought to prove they’re ready for college, community college or trade school. (Standards should vary.)
This approach would prod students to work harder in high school. It would also reduce loan defaults among the least-prepared students. In 1991, defaults cost the government $3.6 billion. But Congress won’t condition college aid on student merit. Two brave members proposed modest academic standards. Rep. Paul Henry, Republican of Michigan, urged requiring a high-school diploma or an equivalency degree. His amendment was defeated 385-28. Democratic Rep. William Ford of Michigan, the bill’s main sponsor, argued against the proposal on the ground that the default rate among students without a high-school diploma is a mere 56 percent. Another proposal for standards by Rep. Dave McCurdy, Democrat of Oklahoma, was also rejected.
The Higher Education Act has become disconnected from its public purpose-improving education–and dedicated to satisfying two constituencies: students and parents (who have to pay college bills); and colleges, universities and trade schools (which want to maximize enrollments and revenues). The House bill does this. Eligibility for college grants is expanded so that a family of four with up to $49,000 of income might qualify. The guaranteed-loan program is liberalized so that any family, regardless of income, can qualify. Whether students deserve aid or get much from attending college are larger questions that Congress ignores. To be fair, so does the Bush administration.
By Madison’s standard, both the Congress and the president have abdicated their responsibility to “discern the true interest of their country. " The trouble here is not (as often imagined) that our political leaders are too remote from public demands. Quite the opposite: political leaders are so sensitive to every twitch of public desire that they’ve committed government to many goals that are contradictory, undesirable or unobtainable.
You can debate why this has happened. In a recent book ( “The United States of Ambition “), Alan Ehrenhalt argued that the breakdown of party power has turned elected officials into an independent class of “political entrepreneurs " obsessed with staying in office. Without parties to guarantee re-election, there’s no protection against taking unpopular decisions. Political scientist Edward Banfield contends that the dilemma-meeting popular demands risks inept government-is inherent in our system.
Whatever the cause, all of us are caught in a paradox. The efforts of the political process to satisfy the public’s immediate (and inconsistent) wishes inevitably create future disappointment. This future is already upon us, and it undermines popular faith in government. But denying people’s present wishes does the same. The result is the stalemate that has sent Warren Rudman packing. Politicians won’t attend to the nation’s long-term needs, even supposing they know what the needs are. Being on the horns of a dilemma means it hurts either to stay or to dismount.
