Jennifer Rubin describes a process we’ve all noticed recently, in which moderate Democrats who ought to know better risk their chances of re-election (or actually give them up) in order to fall in line when Party leaders crack the whip:
…[W]hen confronted with legislation their constituents hated and that defied the fiscal conservative line on which they had ridden into office, they readily complied with their liberal leadership, in no small part because they perceived the risk of crossing the president and their Democratic colleagues to be greater than the risk of angering moderate voters. This was especially true for those who would not face the voters this year. (Only Bayh and Lincoln will.)
That’s what happened, all right. Rubin explains their behavior, at least in part, by saying that their fiscal conservatism was probably just a cynical ploy to begin with, rather than a deeply held principle; she refers to them as “phony centrists.”
Although that may be quite true, it still doesn’t explain something I’ve long wondered about: even if a member of Congress isn’t compromising his/her own deeply held principles on the issues themselves—still, why capitulate to the leadership in situations when such an act would amount to political suicide? In other words, what are those terrible threats that Pelosi and Reid (or, if Republicans happen to control Congress, their Speaker and Majority leader) hold over members in the name of party discipline that could override the desire to get re-elected?
Rubin leaves the details of that part of the story out; we are left to speculate.
I suppose it’s possible that some of these members of Congress don’t want the job anymore. But it’s difficult to believe they’ve suddenly grown tired of the power and perks involved, especially for the long-termers among them.
Power and perks involved—now, therein may lie a hint as to what’s going on. The leaders’ threats to uncooperative members probably include loss of influence, and loss of chairmanships and other highly-anticipated and long-promised appointments. If these members of Congress have been safely ensconced in the favored inner circle, they will now be in the reviled outer one if they defy the party. Ostracism is even possible, effective although perhaps not total; after all, despised party traitor Joe Lieberman still caucuses with the Democrats.
But still, wouldn’t it be better for these members to stay in Congress, even as pariahs, rather than be tossed out by the voters? Apparently not. If a member of Congress falls on his/her sword for the Party and loses an election as a result, there are probably some might cushy jobs ahead. But those who defy the party powers that be may receive a warning that they are on their own when they leave—or, even worse, that influential people may try to stop them from landing the types of cushy and powerful jobs they’ve come to expect on their retirement (forced or otherwise) from Congress.
If a member does defy the party and votes against the legislation despite all of this, and then runs for re-election, there’s another hurdle: fund-raising. The party holds some fairly heavy purse strings, and can be extremely helpful in the fiscal sense. Even with name recognition, a great deal of money is generally needed to mount a successful campaign these days, and the party can be of immense help—or harm.
There are exceptions, of course. Joe Lieberman did it mainly without party help, as did newcomer Scott Brown. But those were highly visible elections with powerfully motivated voters and a great deal of publicity (Brown received contributions from all over the country because of strong interest in his becoming the 41st vote against health care reform). Others can’t count on similar interest and support.
So ordinarily there’s a huge risk in going it alone. In the absence of strong principles it must hardly seem worth it, and so they go along to get along and hope for the best.
But in the case of health care reform, those “phony centrists” appear to have greatly underestimated the strength of the rage their betrayal would engender in the voters. After all, Scott Brown had not yet been elected. Now they’re fearful that their gamble will not pay off—except, perhaps, in those golden parachutes the party will provide to cushion their landings when they fall.


