GIL TROY

The media increase the political nastiness while distancing voters from those clashes. Citizens become spectators. ­Headline-­driven news emphasizes the extremes, the fights, the hysteria, the sensational. Political reporters, trying to appear objective by quoting two opposing sides to almost every story, mostly sharpen the differences, slighting any centrist position.

The antidote to frenzied partisanship won’t be found in politics as usual but in problem-solving leaders who govern from the center.

Primary season highlights the parties’ debility, reducing them to the role of referee among contenders. Then the winner takes over the party structure, frequently installing new leaders while commandeering party fundraising lists. The nominees function much like new sheriffs who swagger into town and dominate the scene for a dramatic but fleeting moment rather than like local deputies who rise through the system and ­last.

Since the rise of television in the 1950s, the media have become the central forum for American politicking, and increasingly today that role is being played by the blogosphere. With the blogger and the viewer replacing the pamphleteer and the parader, politicians focus on marketing themselves and their causes to passive consumers rather than mobilizing passionate soldiers. The new language of politics sounds like this: Spin doctors stage photo ops as pollsters survey voter preferences, spawning celebrity candidates.

Today’s festering unhappiness with politics is a product of the plummeting faith in politicians and political institutions that pollsters have tracked since the 1970s and the escalating spiral of cynicism and despair that has accompanied it. Intense partisanship among politicians, vicious political battles in the media, and nasty electoral campaigns coexist with extensive citizen apathy and pathetically low voter ­turnout.

With most Americans living on farms or in very small towns, and even ­city ­dwellers residing in ­close-­knit neighborhoods, everyone knew who belonged to which party and, even more important, who could deliver the goods. Party officials were true community leaders, not strangers with fancy titles. And these leaders ­made good—­to reformers’ eternal frustration. The infamous “Boss” William Marcy Tweed of New York was typical. In the 1870s, Tweed busily lined his and his buddies’ pockets while also passing out constituent services personally and spectacularly, ranging from Christmas turkeys for the needy to roads, buildings, and parks to transform Manhattan.

American politics’ many military metaphors—the standard-bearer rallied the troops, telling the rank-and-file that this was a do-or-die campaign—testified to this intensity of party activity, not just party affiliation.

Despite the forces pulling politicians to the extremes, Americans must remember that the United States is not Europe. The American political tradition is pragmatic and centrist.

Leaders willing to demand centrist government and less alienating politics are rare. Moderation is not considered sexy; bipartisan initiatives are frequently deemed boring. Ironically, it has been left to a media celebrity to fill part of the yawning gap in the middle.

As has been the case with almost every new technology, from the telegraph to television, the rise of the Internet fed false expectations that it would create a new, more democratic, interactive politics. But blogging’s harsh, unfettered nature has coarsened politics. The fact that so many bloggers are essentially anonymous allows them to spew rancor, rumor, lies, and obscenities. Increasingly, the ­MSM (mainstream ­media) ­appear by contrast staid, centrist, boring, even responsible. ­Deadlines—­once daily, now without limit in the age of the Internet—­demand a constant stream of stories, diluting the quality and upping the rhetorical ante in the effort to grab ­attention, In an ­ever-­escalating rhetorical spiral, political discussion in the media and the blogosphere becomes harsher, sleazier. At the same time, the stories that stand out are the sensational and polarizing ones rather than the constructive, ­bridge-­building ones. A variation of Gresham’s law applies: Just as bad money drives out the good, bad rhetoric and sleazy politics drive ­out—­or at least eclipse and ­obscure—­the ­good.

The antidote to frenzied partisanship won’t be found in politics as usual but in problem-solving leaders who govern from the center.

Today’s festering unhappiness with politics is a product of the plummeting faith in politicians and political institutions that pollsters have tracked since the 1970s and the escalating spiral of cynicism and despair that has accompanied it. Intense partisanship among politicians, vicious political battles in the media, and nasty electoral campaigns coexist with extensive citizen apathy and pathetically low voter ­turnout.

With most Americans living on farms or in very small towns, and even ­city ­dwellers residing in ­close-­knit neighborhoods, everyone knew who belonged to which party and, even more important, who could deliver the goods. Party officials were true community leaders, not strangers with fancy titles. And these leaders ­made good—­to reformers’ eternal frustration. The infamous “Boss” William Marcy Tweed of New York was typical. In the 1870s, Tweed busily lined his and his buddies’ pockets while also passing out constituent services personally and spectacularly, ranging from Christmas turkeys for the needy to roads, buildings, and parks to transform Manhattan.

American politics’ many military metaphors—the standard-bearer rallied the troops, telling the rank-and-file that this was a do-or-die campaign—testified to this intensity of party activity, not just party affiliation.

Primary season highlights the parties’ debility, reducing them to the role of referee among contenders. Then the winner takes over the party structure, frequently installing new leaders while commandeering party fundraising lists. The nominees function much like new sheriffs who swagger into town and dominate the scene for a dramatic but fleeting moment rather than like local deputies who rise through the system and ­last.

The rise of media politics has spawned a new breed of freelancing politicians who excel at demanding attention rather than working behind the scenes to get things done. These showboaters entertain or scare voters, often by affirming their common political identities. ­Problem ­solving invites reason, compromise, and, ultimately, mutual respect; ­identity ­building invites posturing, passion, and, ultimately, ­intolerance.

Since the rise of television in the 1950s, the media have become the central forum for American politicking, and increasingly today that role is being played by the blogosphere. With the blogger and the viewer replacing the pamphleteer and the parader, politicians focus on marketing themselves and their causes to passive consumers rather than mobilizing passionate soldiers. The new language of politics sounds like this: Spin doctors stage photo ops as pollsters survey voter preferences, spawning celebrity candidates.

In Delaware, citizens still celebrate the day after Election Day as “Return Day.” In some counties, rivals parade together and in others they bury a ceremonial hatchet. Especially in small-town America, the post-campaign reconciliation was as routine as the pre-election combat. These rituals, once widespread, restored civility by shifting everyone’s identity as active partisans to their more transcendent identity as patriotic Americans.

As has been the case with almost every new technology, from the telegraph to television, the rise of the Internet fed false expectations that it would create a new, more democratic, interactive politics. But blogging’s harsh, unfettered nature has coarsened politics. The fact that so many bloggers are essentially anonymous allows them to spew rancor, rumor, lies, and obscenities. Increasingly, the ­MSM (mainstream ­media) ­appear by contrast staid, centrist, boring, even responsible. ­Deadlines—­once daily, now without limit in the age of the Internet—­demand a constant stream of stories, diluting the quality and upping the rhetorical ante in the effort to grab ­attention, In an ­ever-­escalating rhetorical spiral, political discussion in the media and the blogosphere becomes harsher, sleazier. At the same time, the stories that stand out are the sensational and polarizing ones rather than the constructive, ­bridge-­building ones. A variation of Gresham’s law applies: Just as bad money drives out the good, bad rhetoric and sleazy politics drive ­out—­or at least eclipse and ­obscure—­the ­good.

The media increase the political nastiness while distancing voters from those clashes. Citizens become spectators. ­Headline-­driven news emphasizes the extremes, the fights, the hysteria, the sensational. Political reporters, trying to appear objective by quoting two opposing sides to almost every story, mostly sharpen the differences, slighting any centrist position.

Our greatest presidents led from the center, seeking the golden path of national unity. George Washington inspired Americans to rally around their “common cause.” Even at the nation’s moment of maximum political extremism, Abraham Lincoln moderated the abolitionists’ ­anti­slavery fervor to keep the wavering border states fighting for union. Franklin D. Roosevelt’s big-tent New Deal incorporated some changes radicals demanded while preserving capitalism. These leaders understood that a democracy, resting on the consent of the governed, requires citizens to buy into politics. They were not ­namby-­pamby wafflers, but muscular moderates, rooted in core principles but nimble, confident, and patriotic enough to compromise when ­necessary.

Despite the forces pulling politicians to the extremes, Americans must remember that the United States is not Europe. The American political tradition is pragmatic and centrist.

Leaders willing to demand centrist government and less alienating politics are rare. Moderation is not considered sexy; bipartisan initiatives are frequently deemed boring. Ironically, it has been left to a media celebrity to fill part of the yawning gap in the middle.