“Money, sex and power.” When asked how his kids turned out so well, my father was fond of sharing the important life values he had passed onto his children. I was fond of telling my dad he had gotten the order wrong.
There was a deeper message though, a deceptive honesty in his humor. Depending upon our relative position in society, we often find ourselves holding our head high and feign passion for whatever moral code happens to be on the agenda that day. That may result in a show of disapproval; we wag our finger at the candidates, their rich and powerful patrons, criticizing them for doing or saying what we might do or say.
That feels good. We fabricate a standard of lofty moral behavior and then impose it on others. When I do it, it makes me feel more powerful. When on occasion we are confronted with a politician’s raw, seamless honesty, the recipe gets jumbled. We like it, but sacrifice the power rush that comes with righteousness.
Can you imagine Donald Trump being asked why he wants to run for president and him replying, “I love power, lots and lots of power, always have. It felt great in 2016, and am now on the verge of a powerful feeling that will be unbelievable.” Such an admission, in his case, would be superfluous, but no less humbling for us moral backseat drivers. Nor do I kid myself into thinking that Kamala Harris would be immune to a similar emotion, the seductive charm of being America’s first female president.
More to the point however, if either of them were to step forward with that level of honesty, they would likely win the respect of those that truly run this country, the 1% who actually call the shots. Feudal lords such as Elon Musk and Timothy Mellon would wire transfer over $100 million into their super PACs — come to think of it, that’s already been done. They would reminisce about the time David Rockefeller, as CEO of Chase Manhattan Bank, was asked if he would consider running for president. Perplexed, Rockefeller replied, “Why would I want a demotion?”
He very neatly summed-up a hard-to-swallow reality: This country is far adrift from most all the ideals we associate with democracy, if in fact that form of governance means being governed by the collective will of its common citizens. Under plutocracy, which describes far more of the behavior we see, the illusion that the average American wage serf has any significant say in federal legislation can be dispensed with. Take away the mirage and you would no longer have the moral license to wag your finger.
Political power today is better understood with metaphors: Let’s say we have a village consisting of a hundred villagers. A single villager, whom we shall name Muskzos, owns the largest 20 residential properties, the village inn, the blacksmithing shop and granary, along with the local bank — all told about 40% of the village wealth. The next nine wealthiest villagers own another 30 properties and more than half the shops along Main Street. The bottom 50 villagers own nothing save the clothes on their back and a meager savings that collectively amounts to 3% of village wealth. The top 10% do not directly serve on the town council; they select favored villagers to serve on their behalf.
Martin Gilens, a political scientist, examines the relationship between economic inequality and political power in America. While at Princeton, his research looked at 2,000 policy issues from 1981-2002 and resulting legislation. His team collected surveys in order to get citizen preferences on a broad range of these issues. The responses were then segmented by income level. The results? The poor had “no effect on policy changes” and surprisingly, it was the same for middle-class earners — no impact whatsoever. Unsurprisingly though, a correlation was clear between the policy preferences of the top 10% of incomes and resulting legislation.
As for me, alongside the plutocrats and the set of questionable values I’ve inherited (money, sex and power), I cherish my steadfast freedom to write so freely. As does Bill Moyers, who aptly describes our current system: “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus, but he has run off with all the toys.”
After years of globetrotting, Todd J. Broadman finds himself writing from his perch on the Palouse and loving the view. His policy briefs can be found at US Resist News: https://www.usresistnews.org