Visiting A Place Called Hope

By Michael Kinsley

During the recent conservative era in America, circa 1980-1992, liberals were often accused of hoping for things to go badly. There was some justice in this accusation. As conservatives are now discovering, the psychology of political opposition is complicated. Of course, for reasons both patriotic and selfish, you don't want calamity to befall the United States of America. On the other hand, it is hard not to relish a certain gloomy anticipation of seeing your predictions of doom come true. And as a practical matter, bad times are the + usual way the out-of-power side gets back in.

But the psychology of political ascendance turns out to be complicated as well. Liberals these days are called upon to perform the novel, and surprisingly arduous, exercise of hoping for a President to succeed. Some aren't up to it. American liberals have basically been in opposition mode since around 1966, halfway through L.B.J.'s second term (except perhaps for a week or two in 1977 at the beginning of the Carter Administration). For most, that period covers their entire politically aware lives. Many are too young to have experienced firsthand the euphoria of J.F.K.'s Camelot, but are now too old and world-weary to join the twentysomethings who swoon unselfconsciously without shame for Bill Clinton.

These pathetic souls have wandered for years in the political desert. Now they stand outside the promised land -- a Place Called Hope -- yet they cannot enter. What blocks their way? Four things.

First, knee-jerk iconoclasm. The habit of a lifetime is hard to break. The very phrase "the President's economic plan" starts the facial nerves twitching into the formation of a cynical sneer. As proposals for reform of everything under the sun come cascading out of the Administration, the first instinct is to assume there is something wrong with each of them.

Second, there is the phenomenon known as "the narcissism of small differences." Liberals and left-wingers are enthusiastic sectarians. Some are ready to denounce Clinton for not being a "real Democrat" whenever he compromises or takes a moderate position. Others are equally quick to denounce him for not being a "new Democrat" whenever he holds firm to some traditional liberal principle they would rather see abandoned.

We all have our political hobbyhorses. One of mine, for example, has been tax reform: eliminate loopholes and lower the rates. Clinton's tax plan undoes much of tax reform. It not only raises rates but also reintroduces a variety of (in my view) stupid tax breaks for this or that business activity. But I ask myself, Is tax reform more important than curbing the deficit and reinvigorating the government? I swallow hard and say no.

A third guardian at the gates of hope is a fear of seeming boosterish. Naked sincerity and enthusiasm can be embarrassing. One must protect one's reputation for skepticism. One doesn't want to be thought of as a cadre or a Moonie, like those absurd Reaganites of the early- to mid-1980s. Nor does one want to be associated with the real Clintonite swooners, not all of whom are youths in their 20s.

These three are all respectable motivations, up to a point. The instinct to oppose whatever those in power happen to be proposing is democratically healthy. A reluctance to compromise shows intellectual principles. The practice of jumping out of the way of bandwagons is morally superior to the practice of jumping onto them. But a fourth roadblock to hope is less admirable. That is complacency or mental laziness.

Many who are cynics about the Clinton presidency and its agenda seem to think they deserve some sort of prize for their refusal to succumb to hope, as if this were a particularly brave or difficult trick to pull off. In fact, there's nothing easier than maintaining a cynical, opposition stance. After all these years, we liberals can do that in our sleep.

It's easy to preserve your integrity in opposition, and tempting to hoard it by remaining in opposition under any circumstance. Scarier and indeed riskier is engaging your integrity by investing hope in flawed politicians operating in an imperfect world. The cheap pleasures of cynicism are always in plentiful supply. Abandoning them is like going on a diet or giving up smoking. Hope, in other words, is the thing that takes work.

It takes work, in part, because the politicians will constantly disappoint. Believing in a Place Called Hope means something different from what Bill Clinton intended in that brilliantly mawkish convention speech line. Hope is required precisely because Clinton himself is so flawed. Otherwise, we could simply swoon, and hope would be superfluous. But Clinton is a dissembler, like all (successful) politicians. He is a reckless maker of incompatible promises that destine every subgroup of his supporters to feel betrayed about something. He is wrong about some issues, cowardly about others, right on fewer than any individual supporter might wish.

But those who never invested any hope in Ronald Reagan and George Bush, and who now are withholding that investment from Bill Clinton, must start to ask themselves what hope they hold for American democracy. Are they going to spend their entire lives sneering for fear of a mistaken swoon? For liberals especially, Clinton is something of a last chance -- and an unexpected chance at that. Under these circumstances, hope seems almost prudent.

A Place Called Hope. I certainly wasn't born there, and wouldn't really care to live there full time. But it's a nice place to visit.