Not quite. Even in chaos and near collapse, the Republicans still had a message that was coherent and popular: reduce the size and intrusiveness of government. The Democrats have no such thing. They remain – with few exceptions – confused, divided, defeated. The most interesting exception may be House Minority Whip David Bonior of Michigan, who has spent the first weeks of the new era road-testing incendiary populist rhetoric. On Jan. 5, as Bill Clinton and Newt Gingrich emerged from a White House love-in, proclaiming “a very real willingness to … work together,” Bonior predicted compromise unlikely. “We have major differences in who we represent,” he said. “They represent the wealthy of this country … the millionaires, the people that clip coupons.” Asked if he regretted such language, Bonior told me: “The coupon-clipping part was unfortunate. It makes it sound like Republicans are sitting at the kitchen table, trying to save money "
Bonior, 49, is something of a surprise. He is not a hothead. He is quiet, contemplative, a former seminarian – and University of Iowa running back. “He is more centered more ideological than [House Minority Leader Richard] Gephardt,” says a colleague. “He doesn’t stick a finger to the wind to find out what he believes. Unfortunately, the things he believes aren’t very forward-looking.” In fact, Bonior tends toward two somewhat contradictory – and clearly waning – political movements: economic populism and Roman Catholic liberation theology. He has sold this mixture in a most unlikely place: the Detroit suburb of Macomb County, much studied (by political scientists) for its newly conservative working class. They’ve been returning Bonior since 1976. “They like someone who stands for something, left or right,” he says. “They’ll give you the benefit of the doubt if they think you’re coming from the gut.”
No doubt true: Bonior’s reputation for extreme decencv and hard work has saved him. But the Republican message – cultural outrage – still hits closer to home for Macomb’s blue-collar suburbanites (who watch the anarchy in Detroit on the evening news each night than Bonior’s assaults on corporate greed and free trade with Mexico. “We’ve got to refocus their fury onto the people who are sending jobs overseas,” he says. “They see their own wages stagnating while there are golden parachutes and enormous salaries at the top. They see the downsizing, laying off 10,000 people at a time. They understand the inequity of it.”
But there’s a growing body of evidence that middle-class Americans aren’t nearly so resentful as he thinks. A recent study by liberal academics Joel Rogers and Richard Freeman showed that an overwhelming majority of workers are more interested in cooperating with the boss than confronting him. It may be they’re afraid that management will move their jobs elsewhere if they push too hard – but that would only make them less receptive to incendiary class-war politics. The populist dogma about hard-working folks slipping behind economically isn’t quite true either. Average household income has been stagnant for 20 years. But what’s average? A lot of “households” have fragmented; there are more single-parent families now. That beloved Democratic talisman – the “forgotten” middle class of stressed-out, maxed-out families where both mom and dad “have” to work – includes too many people mad as hell because they can’t upgrade their recreational vehicle. Such disappointments are real, but relative. They are probably too slight a foundation for a political crusade. “We are not seeing the pauperization of the middle class,” says Robert Shapiro, an economist with the Progressive Policy Institute. “It just hasn’t been a time of massive upward mobility.”
And so, Bonior is playing to a chimera – a vague sense of insecurity that isn’t nearly so compelling as the hard anger at wasteful government and the immoral poor festering at the heart of the Republican canon. His economic populism seems a tortured response to cultural populism, an attempt to deflect middle-class anger in a more “appropriate” direction. But this role, especially the anger, is at odds with Bonior’s own better instincts. He appears uncomfortable making the purely economic argument. He wanders his district and sees driveways filled with new cars, garages filled with toys – and he senses the real crisis may be more spiritual than economic. “The Republicans are giving them a spiritual content we Democrats haven’t begun to address,” he admits. “We have to communicate there’s more to life than the buck … We should be out with Habitat for Humanity, building houses for the poor-showing people by example the importance of giving.” No doubt, the republic would have been better served last week if Congress had gone home and built houses rather than argue over Newt Gingrich’s book contract. And compassion for the poor would seem a more admirable message than resentment of the rich. But neither is likely to make much dent on a very self-absorbed middle class, which is David Bonior’s dilemma and his party’s as well.
