Whether it be actual violence or the mere threat of violence, it is clear that the health care debate has taken a turn for the worse. Instead engaging President Obama in an open and intellectually honest debate about one of the most pressing issues of our time, the right seems to think that shrill shouts of "JUST SAY NO!" will be enough to "win" on health care.
The right is betting that people will see the fervor and anger on their side and assume, "Well, the Republicans must be right. They sure are passionate!" Rush Limbaugh, et al, is betting that the American people will side with whoever screams louder in this debate.
History says they will lose this bet.
In 1970, everything seemed to be going right for President Richard Nixon. With the midterms fast approaching, Nixon thought that he had finally managed to break up the New Deal Coalition. His strategy was cunning: by pitting working-class whites against minorities and students, and framing the Democratic Party as the Party of social unrest, he thought that he would destroy FDR's coalition forever.
Indeed, the Silent Majority seemed ready to assert itself. But its leader was anything but silent. 1970 was to be Vice-President Spiro Agnew's coming out party. It was, as author Rick Perlstein called it, "Agnew's Election."
Agnew's Election was to be won by identifying liberals with radical leftists. Said Agnew, liberalism "translates into a whimpering foreign policy, a mulish obstructionism in domestic policy, and pusillanimous pussyfooting on the critical issue of law and order....The troglodytic leftists who dominate Congress..work themselves into a lather over an alleged shortage of nutriments in a child's box of Wheaties[, but] cannot get exercised over that same child's constant exposure to a flood of hard-core pornography that could warp his moral outlook for a lifetime."
That was the frame. Liberals are cowards who hate America, disdain law and order, and don't care about morality. Agnew went around the nation, barnstorming for Republican candidates and blasting the Democrats. Everywhere he went, liberals were denounced as "ultraliberals" supporting their own "4-H club--the hopeless, hysterical hypochondriacs of history."
Agnew's attacks were dirty, and they were personal. A liberal Republican in New York, Senator Charles Goodell was running for a full-term (having been appointed to fill the late Robert Kennedy's seat). Goodell had been a vocal opponent of Nixon's handling of the War in Vietnam, and it was a top White House priority to defeat him. Agnew called him "the Christine Jorgensen of the Republican Party," after the celebrity transsexual. This was the rule, not the exception, when it came to Agnew's attacks in 1970.
It appeared to be working, too. Spiro Agnew's frame looked like it was succeeding in luring blue-collar workers from the Party of FDR. Prognosticators expected substantial Republican gains. Everything seemed to be falling into place for President Nixon and Vice-President Agnew. That is, until election eve.
On election eve, each party bought fifteen minutes of television time on all three networks. The Republicans, of course, gave their time to Richard Nixon. The program did not go well. Rick Perlstein described it as the catastrophe that it was:
It jerked around mercilessly; the sound levels shifted abruptly; a background hum, and the enthusiastic Goldwaterite audience in the echoey jumbo-jet hangar, obscured the words. The thing was an unholy mess.
Stylistically, it presented a noisy image of the GOP. Even in substance, Nixon was angry and hostile. "For too long," Nixon growled, "we have appeased aggression here at home, and as with all appeasement, the result has been more aggression and more violence." One thing was clear from the tape: the Republicans were the Party of Noise. This was particularly obvious when contrasted with the Democratic response.
Delivered by a man already known to have a conciliatory presence, the Democratic response struck a pitch-perfect note. Senator Edmund Muskie of Maine took the floor right after President Nixon finished speaking, and the contrast could not have been starker. Everywhere Nixon was hostile, Muskie was cordial. Everywhere Nixon was abrasive, Muskie was smooth. Everywhere Nixon was angry, Muskie was calm.
Speaking softly, Muskie carefully picked apart every lie lobbed at the Democrats. He called the Republicans out for besmirching the Democratic Party, "which led us out of depression and to victory over international barbarism; the party of John Kennedy, who was slain in the service of the country he inspired; the party of Lyndon Johnson, who withstood the fury of countless demonstration in order to pursue a course he believed in; the party of Robert Kennedy, murdered on the eve of his greatest triumph. How dare they tell us that this party is less devoted or less courageous in maintaining American principles and values than they are themselves?" He called them out softly.
Muskie then hit a truly masterful note. He called the Republicans on their attempts to scare the American people. Republicans "really believe that if they can make you afraid enough or angry enough, you can be tricked into voting against yourself." In the fifteen minute speech, Muskie never raised his voice. He never denounced the Republicans--except through the softer tone of his policy and tactical criticisms. He calmly debunked every myth Agnew and his crowd had been spewing, and he did it all "relaxed, in an armchair in his summer home."
Come election day, Spiro Agnew and Richard Nixon's Silent Majority failed to assert itself. What was supposed to be an historic victory for the White House and a personal triumph for Spiro Agnew ended up as a Democratic day. The Republicans picked up a very modest two seats in the Senate, and lost twelve seats in the House. Though Nixon put on a brave face, he was extremely upset about the results.
The lessons of 1970 are clear. Noise doesn't win.
Richard Nixon had forgotten his own lesson of his 1968 victory: the political power of quiet. He was right: Americans were tired of shouters. But now Nixon and Agnew were shouting the loudest of them all.
As Perlstein wrote, the Silent Majority failed to assert itself because it wasn't silent. The American people weren't looking for hysteria, they were looking for reassurance.
There is a profound lesson to be learned here, as right wingers attempt to shut down every town hall in the nation by disturbing the peace. The most important lesson is that they are not helping their cause. Every time an astroturfer screams "LIAR!" at a Congressman, they are painting themselves as the Party of Noise. They are giving the Democrats a golden opportunity, and we cannot pass it up.
President Obama needs to present himself as the calmest man in the room. The people already no him as "No Drama Obama," and he needs to remind them of that. He needs to be Ed Muskie--poised, calm, and intelligent.
A Presidential Address would be a great way to facilitate this: President Obama, sitting behind the Resolute Desk, quietly debunking every myth the Republicans have put forward. The President should mention the Screamers and the astroturf behind them--and tranquilly debunk their fanatical claims. If presented with a choice between the fanciful screams of "Euthanasia!" from one side and the reassuring presence of a Commander-in-Chief from the other, is there any doubt whom the center of America will choose?
That goes for everyone. Every Democrat--from President Obama to Speaker Pelosi to Senator Reid to the State Party Chairs to the average voter--must put on a calm face. We must not try to fight fire with fire; we must not try to outscream the Screamers. Congressmen, when faced with Screamers, must simply turn the other cheek and try to calmly explain their position. How do you think Middle America will react when they see a Congressman being violently denounced while trying to answer a question calmly? We must be the side of calm--indeed, the side of law and order.
For that reason, I get nervous when I hear of labor organizing counter protests. They could be extremely effective, if done right. If the protesters are clean cut, respectful and there to demonstrate sheer public support, the AFL-CIO could do health care reform a great favor. But if the counter protests turn as ugly as the protests, if there is a confrontation, if there is a single scuffle--we will be giving up the moral high ground and our greatest political asset.
"Speak softly and carry a big stick," President Roosevelt warned us. We must heed his advice. This is a crisis, and the American people want neither Spiro Agnew nor Abbie Hoffman. The American people don't want to side with the Party of Noise nor a similarly shrill Democratic Party. We need to give them an alternative.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________Rick
Perlstein's Nixonland was the primary source of research for this diary. Wikipedia's resources on the 1970 midterms for the 1970>House and States_Senate_elections,_1970>Senate were also invaluable.