I keep wondering how a political party can sell itself as the embodiment of strength while explaining, at every available opportunity, that it is powerless.
Powerless against Democrats in the minority. Powerless against Democrats who have left office. Powerless, apparently, against Democrats whose administrations are now old enough to qualify as historical exhibits.
At some point, I think a name change is in order.
The Republican’t Party.
Can’t fix it. Can’t deliver it. Can’t overcome it. Can’t possibly be expected to accept responsibility for it.
But it can find a Democrat to blame. For that particular task, its resources appear inexhaustible.
The astonishing power of people who aren’t in charge
If I accepted these excuses at face value, I would have to conclude that Democrats are the most formidable political organization ever assembled.
They can allegedly govern from the minority, administer the country from retirement, and sabotage the present from somewhere deep in the past. Their influence apparently survives elections, changes of administration, and the ordinary passage of time.
What magnificent sorcery.
And what an embarrassing explanation to offer when your own sales pitch is strength.
If your opponents can stop you while holding fewer seats, fewer offices, or no office whatsoever, why should I believe your promises to master the next crisis? You have just described yourselves as people who can be defeated by a photograph of Barack Obama.
Does he live in the thermostat? Is there a secret Biden lever behind the refrigerator? Have Democrats installed a remote control in the Constitution?
I am being ridiculous, of course. But there is something ridiculous about demanding credit for leadership while insisting that the actual power belongs to somebody else.
Opposition comes with the job
Yes, minority parties can obstruct. Yes, Senate rules can make a minority consequential. Yes, courts can block government actions. And yes, decisions made years ago can have effects that last for decades.
None of that is a surprise buried in the employment contract.
It is the job.
If you campaign to govern the United States, you are campaigning to govern a country with opposition parties, competing interests, legal limits, and an enormous collection of people who do not share your priorities.
Negotiating with those people is part of governing. Persuading them is part of governing. Writing policies that survive scrutiny is part of governing. Explaining what you can realistically accomplish is part of governing.
You do not get to promise mastery of the system and then demand an exemption from accountability because the system contains other participants.
If your plan works only after every opponent surrenders, your plan is a fantasy with a fundraising link.
How long does the previous owner remain responsible?
I understand inherited problems. Anyone who has bought an old house understands inherited problems.
But imagine owning that house for years, repeatedly promising to repair the roof, and continuing to blame the previous owner every time it rains in the kitchen.
Eventually, somebody is going to ask why you keep buying campaign signs instead of shingles.
That is where I find myself with the Republican’t Party.
How many opportunities does a party need before its promises become obligations? How much time must pass before “we inherited this” becomes “we have chosen how to handle this”?
An inherited problem can explain your starting position. It cannot provide an eternal excuse for your performance.
And if a problem truly cannot be solved by the powers you possess, say that before you promise to solve it. Explain the limits. Explain the alternatives. Let voters evaluate something more substantial than a declaration that everything will be wonderful once the right people are in charge.
Personal responsibility, apparently, is for other people
The part that really gets under my skin is the sermonizing.
Personal responsibility. Accountability. Stop making excuses. Take charge of your life.
Fine. Apply it.
An ordinary American does not get to miss the mortgage payment and explain that an old supervisor made an unfortunate decision in 2011. The bank expects payment. The employer expects work. The family expects someone to deal with the leaking roof.
But political leaders want a special arrangement.
Their successes demonstrate their brilliance. Their failures demonstrate their opponents’ wickedness. Their unfulfilled promises demonstrate why they need another chance, more authority, and another contribution.
Under that arrangement, there is no possible result that requires them to admit they performed poorly.
It is accountability with every exit door propped open.
Stop asking me to admire helplessness
I do not expect miracles. I expect leaders to understand the difference between a campaign promise and a governing result.
Tell me what you attempted. Tell me which obstacle stopped it. Tell me what you changed in response. Tell me what you accomplished with the authority you actually had.
Specific explanations deserve consideration. A permanent grievance deserves exhaustion.
And accountability should apply to Democrats, too. The standard does not change with the letter beside a candidate’s name. That is precisely why Republican lectures about responsibility should come back around to the Republicans delivering them.
You cannot keep demanding the steering wheel while insisting that someone who got out of the car years ago is still doing all the driving.
At some point, you have to own the direction, the speed, and the ditch.
Until then, Republican’t seems entirely appropriate.
An immense political machine, thundering about strength, collecting money on promises of rescue, and explaining every disappointment with the same exhausted refrain:
We would have done it.
We could have done it.
We were absolutely going to do it.
But Democrats.
For a party so devoted to telling everyone else to take responsibility, it is an astonishingly elaborate way of saying, “Don’t look at us.”
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