Tragedy, Not Pattern

Photo by North Charleston

A video of a horrifically unjustified police shooting has thrown fuel on the already inflamed public discourse about alleged police racism and the use of excessive force against black males. On April 4, Walter Scott, a 50-year-old resident of North Charleston, South Carolina, was stopped by a local police officer for driving with a broken taillight. Scott bolted from his Mercedes Benz and ran off—actions captured by the police cruiser’s dashboard camera. When a cell-phone video shot by a bystander starts up several moments later, police officer Michael Slager has caught up to Scott in a grassy field and has already used his Taser against him. Scott and Slager scuffle, before Scott runs away again. Slager unholsters his gun and fires eight rounds at Scott’s back, initially from a distance of half a dozen yards. Scott falls. He dies at the scene.

Since 2013, Scott had been wanted on an arrest warrant for $18,104 in unpaid child support. His Mercedes was unregistered. It’s widely assumed that he fled during the car stop for fear of being jailed on the warrant, as he had been previously for similar nonpayment.

The Scott shooting is a sickening display of police power run amok. Officer Slager shot Scott when he posed no imminent risk of harm. Even if Scott had wrested Slager’s Taser from him, as Slager allegedly reported through an attorney, and even if Scott had tried to use it against him, Slager had no ground for shooting Scott in the back as he fled. Immediately after the bystander video was released, the North Charleston Police Department fired Slager and the local district attorney charged him with murder.

After Michael Brown was shot by police officer Darren Wilson in Ferguson, Missouri, last summer, protesters concocted a narrative in which Brown had been trying to surrender to the officer but was shot in the back for his trouble. The “hands up, don’t shoot” narrative proved to be made up by bystanders, some of whom did not even see the shooting. In North Charleston, however, someone shot in the back. And the same players—activists and media like—who illegitimately turned the Brown shooting into a symbol of ubiquitous police brutality against black men are now back at it, using the Slager shooting as definitive proof of their longstanding claims about racially predatory police forces. Their main lines of argument are the following: First, innocent minority men are routinely mowed down by the police; second, the police routinely lie about their encounters with minority men; and third, assertive policing in minority neighborhoods is the ultimate culprit behind the alleged epidemic of police homicides. None of these claims is borne out by the evidence.

We don’t know how many people police kill each year. According to the FBI, there are about 400 justified police homicides annually. But reporting to the federal government is voluntary on the part of local police agencies, whether regarding police shootings or crime data. It’s not even known how many agencies report their police homicides to the FBI; one calculation puts that number at around 750, out of approximately 18,000 police departments. Other estimates are higher. The vast majority of departments that report no police homicides to the FBI undoubtedly have no homicides to report. The Bureau of Justice Statistics, using complex statistical sampling rather than actual reports of homicide, has estimated about 1,000 police killings a year from 2003 to 2009—a number that seems high in light of verified reports from actual agencies such as the New York Police Department.

Saying anything definitive about police shootings is therefore difficult. Historically, somewhat less than half of the 400 police homicides reported to the FBI each year have black subjects. This is consistent with the black crime rate. Blacks make up over half of all homicide perpetrators in the country; in 2013, they were 42 percent of all cop-killers, despite being merely 12 percent of the population. From 1980 to 1998, young black males murdered police officers at almost six times the rate of young white males. According to Gary Kleck, a criminologist at Florida State University, police officers are less likely to kill a black suspect who threatens or attacks them than they are to kill a white suspect who threatens or attacks them. Admittedly, Kleck is working with incomplete data, but his findings comport with other research on officer behavior. A 2007 study in the found that police officers were no more likely to shoot unarmed black men than unarmed white men in video simulations of encounters with armed and unarmed suspects. A 2014 simulation study from Washington State University found that officers waited longer to assess the situation when confronted with black suspects than they did with white suspects.

Data from New York City, where the police maintain highly detailed records on officer use of force, match Kleck’s findings. In 2011, New York officers fired at 41 suspects and killed nine of them—an astonishingly low number in light of New York’s population (over 8 million) and the size of its police force (35,000 uniformed officers). Blacks were 22 percent of those fatalities; whites were 44 percent of police fatalities. Yet blacks were 67 percent of all suspects who fired at the police; no white suspect fired at the police. Moreover, blacks made up 73 percent of all shooting perpetrators in the city in 2011, according to the victims of, and witnesses to, those shootings, though blacks are only 23 percent of the population. Whites committed less than 3 percent of all shootings, though they are close to 35 percent of the city’s population.

It is possible, but unlikely, that a complete data set on police shootings would radically change the picture regarding police shootings. But for now, there is no evidence to show that black men are killed disproportionately to their rate of crime and their rate of threatening officers.

The anti-police activists are also claiming that without the bystander video, the Scott shooting would have been deemed justified—emblematic, they say, of countless other unrecorded officer shootings of blacks that are wrongly deemed justified because the officers lied about them and got away with it. These claims are groundless. It’s not clear from press accounts what exactly Officer Slager said about the Scott shooting in his official report. But the facts would have come out about the Scott shooting with or without the video. The same forensic process that discredited the Michael Brown hoax would have revealed what happened in North Charleston. The autopsy would have shown that Scott was shot in the back; shell casings from Slager’s gun and the location where Scott fell would have shown the distance at which he was shot—crucially, at close range.

There is no reason to think that officers lie more about their encounters with civilians than vice versa. In fact, the opposite is likely the case. The more cameras taping police-civilian interactions, the better—and to the extent that those videos provide a complete record of police encounters, they will vindicate officer accounts far more often than civilian ones. The Michael Brown saga was a particularly public display of the routine civilian lying about police stops in the inner city. Actress Taraji Henson recently apologized to the Glendale, California, police for falsely claiming that the department racially profiled and mistreated her son during a traffic stop. Evidence discredited columnist Charles Blow’s claim that his son was abused by Yale University police. In New York City, the Civilian Complaint Review Board, which hears complaints about the New York Police Department, substantiated only 7 percent of the complaints it received in 2014; the vast majority of complaints are ungrounded.

Finally, the Scott shooting is inevitably being used as a cudgel against assertive policing. In fact, the press and the advocates are now portraying virtually enforcement action against a black person—including for traffic violations—as illegitimate. North Charleston has had one of the highest rates of violent crime in the nation; the local department reportedly had stepped up its enforcement efforts in response. Not so fast, say the and other eternal cop critics. The shooting represents “a crime strategy gone awry,” the announced last week. The paper and a bevy of activists made the identical claim against broken-windows policing in the wake of the Eric Garner death. The broken-windows policing philosophy itself was responsible for Garner’s death, the activists alleged, rather than faulty tactics used during Garner’s stop. Therefore, the argument goes, the police should back off of public order enforcement in minority communities.

This logic is faulty. There has been no more successful government program for saving black lives than assertive policing. In New York City, over 10,000 minority males are alive today who would have been dead had homicide levels stayed at their early 1990s level. And it was proactive policing that lowered the New York homicide rate. In 2012, police departments across the country made over 12 million arrests, issued even more summonses, and had many times more encounters with the public that resulted in neither a summons nor an arrest. A fraction of those encounters will go awry, sometimes tragically, with lethal consequences. But far more minority lives are saved by proactive policing than are wrongly taken by it.

Every year more than 6,000 blacks are homicide victims, more than the number of white and Hispanic homicide victims combined, even though blacks make up only 13 percent of the national population. They are killed not by cops, but by other blacks. For that reason, the press ignores these killings.

On March 11 of this year, as protestors once again converged upon the Ferguson, Missouri, police headquarters demanding the resignation of the entire department, a six-year-old boy name Marcus Johnson was killed a few miles away in a St. Louis park, the victim of a stray bullet fired in a dispute. There were no mass protests over his killing; Al Sharpton did not call for a Justice Department investigation. Few people outside St. Louis even know the boy’s name.

By all means, we must do everything possible to make sure that police departments use force only as an absolute last resort. But let’s spend at least as much energy trying to make sure such killings as that of Marcus Johnson are as rare as the unjustified force used by Officer Slager against Walter Scott.

City Journal

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A Tale of Two First Ladies

As Hillary Clinton again undertakes a run for the presidency, it might be a good time to apologize—not for her decision to delete State Department e-mails, but for one of the first public statements she made on the national stage.

In 1992, as charges first emerged about her husband’s alleged extra-marital affairs, both Clintons appeared together on CBS’s . Their goal? To defend Bill and to assert Hillary’s independence. She told interviewer Steve Kroft, “I’m not sitting here some little woman standing by my man like Tammy Wynette. I’m sitting here because I love him and I respect him.”

It’s certainly true that the late country singer Tammy Wynette was best known for her mega-hit “Stand by Your Man.” But Hillary’s statement was wrong on two counts. In her own life, the thrice-married, twice-divorced Wynette actually did not stand by her men. Hillary, by any measure, has. In fact, Wynette might be considered a paragon of feminist courage and independence, while Hillary, to win the White House, will have to prove that she has what it takes to accomplish great things on her own.

Here’s some of what Hillary apparently didn’t know about the life of Tammy Wynette. From a start picking cotton on her grandfather’s farm in Itawamba County, Mississippi, Virgina Wynette Pugh rose to become the acknowledged First Lady of country music even she ended up marrying its king, George Jones. Married as a teenager, she overcame a divorce from her often-unemployed, construction-worker husband to raise three children on her own. To do so, she earned a beautician’s license and worked as a hairdresser, all while singing at night in clubs. Even after becoming a star she kept the license up to date, lest her luck run out.

Success came for Wynette only after she quit her job and, without securing a place to live for herself and her children, moved to Nashville to pursue what country star Alan Jackson once described as “that neon rainbow” of music stardom. Her big break came in an audition with legendary Nashville producer Billy Sherrill. Sherrill understood Wynette’s capacity to transmit a breathtaking depth of emotion. If, like Hillary, you’re too quick to conclude that Wynette doesn’t understand both the bitter and the sweet, listen to the brilliant “The Ways to Love a Man.” You might change your mind.

It’s beyond doubt that the combined themes of hard times and personal risk informed a song style that deeply moved Wynette’s audience—and conveyed genuineness that Hillary can only wish she could project. Sincerity requires emotional honesty.

One way Clinton could start, however, to make amends for her insult to Wynette—and probably boost her electoral prospects—would be to travel to Tremont, Mississippi. The tiny town (population 390) is working, with modest support from the state government, to build a museum honoring its hometown girl. Perhaps the Bill, Hillary, and Chelsea Clinton Foundation might add some support of its own.

If she were to speak in Tremont, Hillary might want to recall the actual lyrics of “Stand by Your Man.” She just might recognize herself:

Sometimes it’s hard to be a woman
Giving all your love to just one man
You’ll have bad times, and he’ll have good times
Doin’ things that you don’t understand
But if you love him, you’ll forgive him
Even though he’s hard to understand
And if you love him, oh be proud of him
‘Cause after all he’s just a man.

City Journal

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Rahm’s Reprieve

Photo by Daniel X. O’Neil

As expected, Chicago mayor Rahm Emanuel handily won his runoff election against Jesus “Chuy” Garcia. Getting reelected might prove to be the easy part. Now Emanuel must confront a host of formidable problems, including severe crime, a deeply divided population, and America’s worst big-city finances.

Emanuel based his campaign on the argument that only he was capable of dealing with these challenges. Chicago will find out if he’s right. So far, former mayor Richard M. Daley has received much of the local blame for bad decisions that buried the city in debt. But the locus of responsibility is shifting to Emanuel. He might not have been the one who broke it, but now he owns it.

Much of the coverage of Emanuel focuses, perhaps understandably, on his style. It’s reasonable to ask whether someone whose operating principle is polarization can unite a city that has long been divided—especially when his approach appears to be working electorally. An early test of his effort to adopt a gentler style will be whether he can reset relations with the press, which he has alienated consistently.

And yet, the focus on Emanuel, in keeping with Chicago’s “great man” political tradition, obscures the role of other players in the current mess. Chicago’s vaunted business community has fallen in line with Emanuel, rarely if ever challenging him. It was equally supine before Daley, even as he signed bad union deals, foolishly pursued the Olympics, and racked up huge debts. What were the Commercial Club and the rest of the city’s business elite doing while this was going on? Feting Daley, the same way they now sing Emanuel’s praises.

In fact, Chicago’s high-end business community benefitted enormously from Daley’s largesse, which he lavished on the city’s commercial center. When started to blow the whistle on the city’s finances back in 2010, the paper fittingly headlined its exposé: MAYOR DALEY RUNS UP BIG DEBTS BUILDING HIS GLOBAL CITY; WHAT ABOUT THE REST OF CHICAGO? The same question hung in the air during this election. Along with Daley and Emanuel, Chicago’s “global city” businesses deserve to take some of the heat for the city’s fiscal extremis and social divisions.

Boosters have long argued that having a strong mayor and united business and civic leadership was an advantage for Chicago because it could get things done when other cities stay mired in endless debate. The Chicago style may be efficient, in a narrow sense, but it also carried the city to the brink of fiscal ruin and left many citizens feeling disenfranchised along the way. Rahm Emanuel may indeed need to change his personal style. More broadly, Chicago needs to change its go-along-to-get-along political and civic culture, in which dissent carries a high price and the establishment marches in lockstep with the mayor.

City Journal.

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No Bonus for Taxpayers

Photo by Frédéric​ Bisson

As the city of Detroit’s financial condition deteriorated, its employee-pension funds made hundreds of millions of dollars in bonus payments to retirees. Those extra checks swelled the city’s retirement debt and played a role in the Motor City’s eventual bankruptcy. Yet Detroit’s struggles haven’t stopped the retirement systems of other cities and states—including some with severely underfunded pensions—from continuing to dole out bonuses.

The Philadelphia school system, with less than half the assets it needs to meet its future obligations, is set to hand out $62 million in bonuses, sometimes referred to as 13th checks, to its retirees this year. The payments are authorized by 2007 legislation that grants the extra checks when the pension system exceeds its investment projections, regardless of the system’s debt. Rising retirement costs—up from $55 million in 2011 to $154 million last year—have aggravated a financial crisis in the city’s schools. Despite a state-approved $60 million boost in cigarette taxes last year to bolster their finances, Philly schools project an $80 million deficit next year, partly because of another $34 million spike in pension costs. Still, the Philadelphia city council has refused to rescind the 2007 bonus law, arguing that the extra retiree payments this year will be only a small component of the system’s $5 billion in debt. Mayor Michael Nutter, by contrast, has called the payments irresponsible and tried to stop them.

Extra pension payments also remain a problem in some communities surrounding Detroit. Wayne County’s finances, for example, are so shaky that Moody’s has downgraded the government’s debt rating to junk-bond status. County executive Warren Evans recently released an audit showing that the county could run out of cash by June, raising the prospect of a state takeover or bankruptcy. But the county’s retirement system, which is only 45 percent funded, keeps handing out extra pension checks from a bonus pool, established by county ordinance in 1985, which receives money when investment gains beat projections. The checks cost the county $16 million annually. In 2010, the county began taking money out of the bonus pool and transferring the cash into its underfunded pensions. Retirees sued to stop the practice, and a state appeals court backed them. A Michigan court had similarly blocked Detroit officials from suspending its bonus program before the city entered bankruptcy court. Eventually, federal bankruptcy judge Steven Rhodes allowed Detroit to stop the 13th checks and revamp its troubled pension system.

In some cases, employee-dominated pension-fund boards are handing out bonuses against the wishes of government officials. The pension trustees of the police and fire funds of the city of Hollywood, Florida, sent out bonus checks in 2013 averaging $19,000 for retired firefighters and $6,400 for retired cops. But the city’s pension funds have less than half the money they need to pay future obligations, according to a recent Fitch Ratings report, and they owe nearly $500 million. City officials complained to the state’s retirement board about the checks. The board ruled last summer that it was illegal for the pension trustees—themselves members of the pension system—to distribute the money when the system had such large debts.

Retirees and elected officials who support these payments argue that pensioners should share in a system’s gains during good investment years. But critics point out that the additional monies that pension systems earn when their returns are better than forecasted are supposed to be used to offset times when returns do well. In a seriously underfunded system, siphoning off investment gains makes it virtually impossible for a fund to climb back to financial health—except by tapping taxpayers for big new contributions.

Arthur Levitt, former chairman of the Securities and Exchange Commission, summed up the problem when he was called to investigate the finances of San Diego’s pensions a decade ago. In a comment on the city’s practice of paying out bonuses to retirees when investment returns exceeded 8 percent, Levitt noted: “Designating earnings in excess of 8 percent as Ωsurplus≈ made it look as if the City could grant additional benefits without providing a funding source for them. This impression was (and is) misleading.” In 2012, San Diego residents voted for reforms that instituted a new pension system and eliminated the bonuses for incoming workers. But retirees in the current system still get the extra payments. In 2013, reports the San Diego , the pension system handed out $5.5 million in bonuses, even though it is saddled with $2.3 billion in debt.

Illinois residents face pension debt of $100 billion, according to state estimates—and twice that much, in the view of some independent analysts. Yet the Illinois Municipal Retirement Fund (IMRF) still pays retirees a 13th check every year and sends local governments the bill. The bonuses amounted to $41 million in 2013. The IMRF, retirees say, is better funded than other pension funds in the state. But with retirement costs rising for local governments thanks to Illinois’ huge pension liabilities, the additional money for the bonus program puts a further squeeze on already-pinched Illinois budgets.

Some governments provide retirees 13th checks in lieu of annual cost-of-living adjustments. But unwinding the bonuses has proved difficult. For years, Mississippi has bundled cost-of-living adjustments into a single check paid out to retirees at the end of the year. But Mississippi’s pension system is now in trouble, with funding levels at about 60 percent of what’s necessary to meet future obligations. Last year, some Mississippi officials urged the state to freeze the growth in the 13th checks, or eliminate them entirely for retirees under 65. But the state legislature balked, arguing that the checks are really cost-of-living adjustments, not bonuses. Still, many other states with underfunded pensions—including Colorado, New Jersey, and Rhode Island—have already eliminated or suspended such adjustments. Whether one calls them bonuses or cost-of-living adjustments, they’re an expensive feature of any pension system, especially one sunk in debt.

Detroit’s bankruptcy, in which retirement debt played such a prominent role, was supposed to be a cautionary tale for state and local officials. But not everyone was watching closely, it seems.

City JournalShakedown: The Continuing Conspiracy Against the American Taxpayer.

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Moynihan’s Mistake and the Left’s Shame

Photo by Marion S. Trikosko

, by Stephen Hess (Brookings Institution Press, 150 pp., $24)

, by Greg Weiner (University Press of Kansas, 208 pp., $27.95)

, by Shelby Steele (Basic Books, 208 pp., $25.99)

Daniel Patrick Moynihan, the four-term senator from New York who died in 2003, was that rare soul who was both a political and intellectual giant. Stephen Hess, who worked in the early Nixon White House as an aide to Moynihan, was the rare individual friendly with both Moynihan and Richard Nixon. is a short but revealing memoir-cum-narrative of Moynihan’s service in the executive branch.

What brought Nixon and Moynihan together was a tectonic shift of the political plates. Nixon won the presidency in 1968 thanks to the backlash against the riots that had ripped through America’s cities. What made Moynihan a Democrat of extraordinary insight, willing to serve a Republican president, were his reactions to those riots—and to the excesses and wrong turns of American liberalism.

Today, 50 years after its issuance, some liberals “bravely” acknowledge that 1965’s so-called Moynihan Report, in which the future senator warned about the dire future consequences of the collapse of the black family, was a fire bell in the night. But at the time, and for decades to come, Moynihan was branded as a racist by civil rights leaders, black activists, and run-of-the-mill liberals. “One began to sense,” Moynihan wrote, that “a price was to be paid even for such a mild dissent from conventional liberalism.”

His capacity for irony notwithstanding, Moynihan came close to a nervous breakdown and “emerged changed” from the experience. He came to feel “that American liberalism had created its own version of a (i.e., the worse the better) . . . in which evidence had been displaced by ideology.” His fear that the empirically oriented liberalism of his youth was under assault from racial and cultural nihilists intensified after the 1967 riots that burned through Cleveland, Newark, and Detroit, where 43 died. “The summer of 1967,” Moynihan wrote at the time, “came in the aftermath of one of the most extraordinary periods of liberal legislation, liberal electoral victories and the liberal dominance of the media . . . that we have ever experienced. The period was, moreover, accompanied by the greatest economic expansion in human history. And to top it all, some of the worst violence occurred in Detroit, a city with one of the most liberal and successful administrations in the nation; a city in which the social and economic position of the Negro was generally agreed to be far and away the best in the nation.”

In the wake of the riots, a candid Moynihan, notes Hess, addressed the liberal stalwarts of Americans for Democratic Action, an organization created as an anti-Communist counterpoint to the philo-Soviet liberals of the 1940s. “The violence abroad and the violence at home” was “especially embarrassing for American liberals,” Moynihan told his ADA listeners, “because it is largely they who have been in office and presided over the onset of the war in Vietnam and the violence in American cities . . . [which] must be judged our doing.” But the liberal media and establishment didn’t see it that way, shifting the blame on to the shoulders of Richard Nixon and the blue-collar voters who supported him. Fearing that America was headed toward a crack-up, Moynihan told his fellow ADA liberals that they needed to look, at least temporarily, to an alliance with conservatives to head off the breakdown.

Inside the Nixon White House, Moynihan, says Hess, proved “to be an amazingly agile bureaucratic player,” and he charmed the president with his fount of anecdotes and insights. “Pat saw that Nixon, who had experienced extreme poverty in his youth, was open to a sweeping measure that could do away with the vast ‘service’ apparatus of the poverty industry that had been created by the Great Society,” Hess writes. “Tory men and liberal measures” could shake up Washington, Moynihan told the president. He translated that approach into the Family Assistance Plan (FAP), which would have provided a guaranteed income to families in poverty. But FAP, despite Nixon’s support, was defeated not by the predictable right-wing critics like Arthur Burns, the thoughtful but dour chair of the Council of Economic Advisors who thought it too costly, but by intemperate liberals, who insisted on even more spending.

As an aide to Nebraska senator Bob Kerrey in the 1990s, Greg Weiner knew Moynihan, and he picks up on the crosscurrents that made the senator such a fascinating figure in . Weiner describes how Moynihan distinguished between two types of liberalism. Pluralist liberalism, with which Moynihan identified, emphasized situation and circumstance in making policy. This was the position, Moynihan wrote, “held by those, who with Edmund Burke . . . believe that in . . . the strength of . . . voluntary associations—church, family, club, trade union, commercial association—lies much of the strength of democratic society.” But Moynihan saw another kind of liberalism developing, one caught up in an “overreliance upon the state.” This statist liberalism produced the bureaucratic “chill” that “pervades many of our government agencies” and has helped produce “the awesome decline of citizen participation in our elections.” That decline has continued to the present day, producing record-low turnouts in the recent New York and Los Angeles elections.

The two liberalisms also diverged in their view of America. Moynihan’s older liberalism identified deeply with America even as it acknowledged its failings. It respected facts and evidence. But the new liberalism, the radicalism of the late sixties that captivated educated elites, was shot through with an irrational anti-Americanism. “Radical politics,” explained Michael Novak at the time, “is so much the province of the affluent . . . that it fairly reeks of class bias,” a bias against “middle America.” Moynihan feared that “a society suffused with the alienation of its elites” would be “a society that courts—if not totalitarianism, at least statism.” He saw “totalitarian seeds in the new politics of who thinks what, and who feels how.” Moynihan understood that anti-Americanism was a useful lever for liberal elites who insisted that their inclinations be propitiated lest they undermine American society from within. But after being scorched by critics of the Moynihan Report and his Nixon-era comments about the need for “benign neglect” when it came to racial policy, Senator Moynihan confined his criticism of liberalism to occasional forays, such as his memorable 1993 essay “Defining Deviancy Down,” prompted by the frightening failures of the Dinkins mayoralty in New York.

By then, Moynihan had become an outlier whose personality and intellect insulated him from the changes that had corroded ADA liberalism. The “boodlers” Moynihan had warned Nixon about were organized into the powerful public-sector unions, whose statist aims came to define political liberalism. Obsessed with race and gender, modern liberalism has no use for Burke’s “little platoons,” among which the family stands as the central institution of social stability. Nor, with its emphasis on “narrative” as opposed to empiricism, has contemporary liberalism shown much interest in facts. The protesters screaming that “black lives matter” even as police killings of African-Americans reached new lows represent an ideological fervor whose grievances can never be sated.

In 1988, a Moynihan-sponsored welfare reform bill opened the way for state-level experiments and eventually made possible the successful bipartisan welfare reform bill of 1996. But sadly, Moynihan’s most enduring impact remains his advice to Nixon against cutting back the Great Society programs. Moynihan identified with the New Deal’s support for social insurance as opposed to the Great Society’s provision of social services. The services strategy, he argued, diverted money from low-income taxpayers to middle-class social workers—a version of feeding the horses to nourish the sparrows. Yet Moynihan helped save the Great Society from Nixon’s budgetary axe. He warned Nixon: “All the Great Society activist constituencies are lying out there in wait, poised to get you if you try to come after them, the professional welfarists, the urban planners, the day carers, the social workers, the public housers. . . . Just take [the] Model Cities [program], the urban ghettos will go up in flames it you cut it out.” Ironically, Moynihan spared the forces he rightly feared as a threat to American well-being.

The farrago of interests and organizations spawned by the Great Society became, by way of public-sector unions, the organizational backbone of Obama-era redistributive liberalism. Today’s liberalism is nearly unrecognizable by Moynihan’s egalitarian standards. Liberals in New York and California are increasingly comfortable with a stratified society governed by crony-capitalist political elites. Their idea of reform is to make the lives of those in poverty more comfortable, even as they import cheap labor and reduce wages for working-class blacks.

Moynihan was baffled by what had become of liberalism. “A simple openness to alternative definitions of a problem and a willingness to concede the possibility of events taking a variety of courses. This ought to be the preeminent mode of liberalism, and yet somehow it is not,” he wrote. That “simple openness” was blocked by an architecture of indignation built not on evidence, as Moynihan understood it, but rather on what Shelby Steele calls “poetic truths,” which insist, among other things, on the persistence of racial repression. The new shape-shifting structures of micro-oppression (and microaggression) guarantee explanations for why blacks are still held back by white subjugation, even as the symbols of that oppression—such as “hands up, don’t shoot”—have to be manufactured out of whole cloth.

Steele’s new book, , explains why Moynihan’s fears of statist liberalism have been realized and why Moynihan has had no political or intellectual heirs. While generations of immigrants have passed African-Americans on their way up the social ladder, black leaders continue to excel at trying to leverage grievances into more entitlements. African-Americans, explains Steele, courageously won their freedom only to sell themselves into a new sort of bondage—to perpetual victimization and federal subsidies. The doors to modernity, which demand that individuals make something of themselves so as to advance in the marketplace, opened for blacks in the wake of the civil rights movement—only, explains Steele, to have blacks retreat into a group identity based on cultivating grievances.

When blacks balked as they approached the promised land of equality before the law, they engendered a new multicultural ideology to explain away America’s achievements in finally confronting its racial sins. Black nationalists, along with the new upper-middle-class white radicals, insisted on the permanence of racism, and politicians black and white used the specter of racism to expand their political influence. Anti-Americanism became “a new and legitimate source of moral authority,” Steele contends, as blacks “found a recognizable home in grievance. Here we knew ourselves and felt empowered” by supposedly ongoing oppression in America. The new liberalism tragically asked “minorities to believe that the inferiority imposed on them is their best leverage in society—thus making inferiority the wellspring of their entitlement and power even as it undermines their incentive to overcome it.”

Postmodernism and multiculturalism similarly rendered intelligent attempts to deal with social problems impossible. The stuttering uncertainty of postmodernism nevertheless supplied rituals of repentance for white liberals ever anxious to shed their “privileges,” even as they expanded their power. But postmodernism offered no map to help blacks escape the pathologies of inner-city life. Multiculturalism has given liberalism a litany of racial and gender complaints that prove impervious to evidence.

Many accounts of Moynihan’s career overemphasize the failure of FAP and his later overwrought criticism of Bill Clinton’s 1996 welfare bill. They overlook the enormous influence he wielded while close to the seat of power. Moynihan’s great mistake—allowing the self-serving panoply of government programs to survive—helped displace the Burkean liberalism that he otherwise tried to preserve. Statist liberalism’s half-century of efforts and trillions in expenditures, Steele rightly observes, has produced a society fit for continued second-class citizenship.

City JournalThe Revolt Against the Masses: How Liberalism Undermined the Middle Class

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An Engineered Drought

Photo by Cowgirl Jules

California governor Jerry Brown had little choice but to issue a belated, state-wide mandate to reduce water usage by 25 percent. How such restrictions will affect Californians remains to be seen, given the Golden State’s wide diversity in geography, climate, water supply, and demography.

We do know two things. First, Brown and other Democratic leaders will never concede that their own opposition in the 1970s (when California had about half its present population) to the completion of state and federal water projects, along with their more recent allowance of massive water diversions for fish and river enhancement, left no margin for error in a state now home to 40 million people. Second, the mandated restrictions will bring home another truth as lawns die, pools empty, and boutique gardens shrivel in the coastal corridor from La Jolla to Berkeley: the very idea of a 20-million-person corridor along the narrow, scenic Pacific Ocean and adjoining foothills is just as unnatural as “big” agriculture’s Westside farming. The weather, climate, lifestyle, views, and culture of coastal living may all be spectacular, but the arid Los Angeles and San Francisco Bay-area megalopolises must rely on massive water transfers from the Sierra Nevada, Northern California, or out-of-state sources to support their unnatural ecosystems.

Now that no more reservoir water remains to divert to the Pacific Ocean, the exasperated Left is damning “corporate” agriculture (“Big Ag”) for “wasting” water on things like hundreds of thousands of acres of almonds and non-wine grapes. But the truth is that corporate giants like “Big Apple,” “Big Google,” and “Big Facebook” assume that their multimillion-person landscapes sit atop an aquifer. They don’t—at least, not one large enough to service their growing populations. Our California ancestors understood this; they saw, after the 1906 earthquake, that the dry hills of San Francisco and the adjoining peninsula could never rebuild without grabbing all the water possible from the distant Hetch Hetchy watershed. I have never met a Bay Area environmentalist or Silicon Valley grandee who didn’t drink or shower with water imported from a far distant water project.

The Bay Area remains almost completely reliant on ancient Hetch Hetchy water supplies from the distant Sierra Nevada, given the inability of groundwater pumping to service the Bay Area’s huge industrial and consumer demand for water. But after four years of drought, even Hetch Hetchy’s huge Sierra supplies have only about a year left, at best. Again, the California paradox: those who did the most to cancel water projects and divert reservoir water to pursue their reactionary nineteenth-century dreams of a scenic, depopulated, and fish-friendly environment enjoy lifestyles predicated entirely on the fragile early twentieth-century water projects of the sort they now condemn.

It’s now popular to deride California agriculture in cost-benefit terms, given that its share of state GNP (anywhere from 4 percent to 8 percent, depending on how one counts related industries) supposedly does not justify its huge allotted consumption of state water (anywhere from 65 percent to 80 percent). But note the irony: California supplies a staggering percentage of the nation’s fresh vegetables and fruits; it’s among the most efficient producers in the world of beef, dairy, and staple crops. One can purchase an iPhone 6 or a neat new Apple watch, but he still must eat old-fashioned, pre-tech food. There are no calories in Facebook, and even Google can’t supply protein. On the other hand, I can live without an iPad. Who is to say which industry is essential and which isn’t? Insulin and antibiotic production constitute a micro-percentage of GDP, but is their water usage less important than Twitter’s? Is a biologist who studies bait-fish populations in the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta really more important than a master tractor driver whose skill gives broccoli to thousands?

We’re suffering the ramifications of the “small is beautiful,” “spaceship earth” ideology of our cocooned elites. Californians have adopted the ancient peasant mentality of a limited good, in which various interests must fight it out for the always scarce scraps. Long ago we jettisoned the can-do visions of our agrarian forebears, who knew California far better than we do and trusted nature far less. Now, like good peasants, we are at one another’s throats for the last drops of a finite supply.

City Journal

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Piketty’s Logic Gap

Photo by Universitat Pompeu Fabra

Thomas Piketty is in favor of small government, after all—but only when it doesn’t matter. Over New Year’s, the French economist and author of last year’s much-discussed airily turned down his country’s highest award, the Legion of Honor. “I do not think it is the government’s role to decide who is honorable,” Piketty explained.

Almost everyone accepts government honors when they’re offered; Piketty’s refusal puts him in the company of Jean-Paul Sartre. You’d think Piketty would have been proud to stand in the company of this year’s 690 other honorees, including two British World War II veterans, an American painter, and a French nurse who survived Ebola. Apparently, Piketty thinks that his government isn’t smart enough to do two things at once. “They’d be better off concentrating on boosting growth in France and Europe,” he said.

But if government can’t give out awards and nurture the economy at the same time, how can Piketty be confident that the government can competently carry out his complex policy prescriptions? In an update to his book, Piketty stands by his proposed fixes for the economy: “a progressive tax on labor income and a progressive tax on inherited wealth.” Of course, Western countries already have progressive taxes on wages. Piketty’s vision of a tax on inherited wealth is enormously complicated. What he calls a “simple rule of thumb” would involve “adapt[ing] the tax rates to the observed speed at which the different wealth groups are rising over time.” If the people on the list are getting richer, faster, the government should tax them at a higher rate—“as large as 5% per year, and possibly higher,” he suggests—to “stabilize the level of wealth concentration.” Piketty notes that figuring out how rich people really are would require “more financial transparency,” “better information about income and wealth dynamics,” and “better international fiscal coordination.”

That’s daunting enough, and it doesn’t come close to accounting for all the complexities that would arise. What if a wealthy individual has assets tied up in a company that doesn’t trade publicly and that would lose value if its owner sold it suddenly? Should it matter if a wealthy individual is already giving his money away to charity—and, if so, do the specific charities matter? Given his view of the government’s ability to bestow awards, it’s odd that Piketty has such confidence that it can figure out an ever-changing, optimal level of wealth taxation without causing more problems than it solves.

Piketty may have a more prosaic reason for rejecting the Legion of Honor: to disassociate himself from French president François Hollande’s flailing economic policies. Yet Hollande ran for office pushing a Piketty-like 75 percent income tax on the wealthy—a tax he has now abandoned because it didn’t bring in enough money, failed to end the country’s economic stagnation, and ran into legal difficulties. Hollande is now turning to less statist solutions, such as allowing shops to open their doors 12 Sundays per year instead of the current five. Whatever Piketty’s reasons, though, it’s striking that he can’t accept his government’s highest compliment—while he urges that same government to dig into people’s pockets more obtrusively than ever before.

City JournalAfter the Fall: Saving Capitalism from Wall Street—and Washington.

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