I'll take mandates for $400, Alex
Columnist E. J. Dionne of the Washington Post states plainly a theme resonating among many in the newly faith-based Democratic Party this week:
That, dear reader, is the most inside of inside political knowledge. Who among us, even after burning much midnight oil in law school, popping No-Doz like candy, poring sentence by sentence over 650 pages of God-damned Federalist Papers essays, can say the same?
The agile mind might even be forgiven, in a moment of such humiliation, for descending briefly into the cynical suspicion that Mr. Dionne's actual definition of a mandate is simply one more vote than the winning Republican candidate receives.
But this is an unworthy thought. And unnecessary, as it turns out. The historical record can now reveal to us just how the Framers of our system of government thought on this weighty issue.
For example, untranscribed Dictaphone audiotapes have recently been unearthed from the files of Princess Leia Organa, whose unpaid service as transcribing secretary to the Constitutional Convention of 1787 has long been ignored by historians to whom only the contributions of white male Earth-born participants were worthy of study.
These audiotapes have been authenticated by a team of experts assembled by CBS News and the New York Times, and the one most pertinent to our inquiry consists of a recording made in a private room at the City Tavern in Philadelphia, during September of 1787, as the final form of the Constitution was being decided.
The voices have been identified by handwriting experts as those of James Madison, principal architect of the Constitution, Alexander Hamilton, first Secretary of the Treasury, patriot Benjamin Franklin, and a serving wench of unknown provenance but evident pulchritude:
Let's listen in:
[crackling noises]
Hamilton: James, there's something bothering me about your otherwise elegant draft. Here in Article II you enumerate the powers of the President --
Serving Wench: And here we are, gents! That's a pint of our best for Mr. H, another for Jimmy dear, and a nice cuppa for Mr. Franklin.
[sound of glass tipping]
Franklin: Oi, wench! Mind the parchment!
Wench: Sorry! I'll fetch a rag directly.
Madison: Never mind, dear. It's only a draft. But Colonel Hamilton, I should think the President's powers are clear enough. He's to be Commander in Chief, appoint judges, make treaties, et cetera, all of which we talked over last week.
Hamilton: Yes, I recall. But James, who do you mean by "the President"?
Madison: Ah, you want the previous section, then, on the selection of the President. See it says here: "Each State shall appoint, in such a manner as the legislature thereof may direct, a number of Electors. . ."
Hamilton: By in such manner you probably mean an election, I daresay?
Madison: Why, yes, that would be the general idea.
Franklin: Easier to toss a coin. Probably as well, too, among the Southern states.
[general laughter]
Hamilton: To be sure, aged forefather. I've long suspected General Washington was drunk at the time he allowed those self-righteous, gun-totin', military-lovin', sister-marryin', abortion-hatin', gay-loathin', foreigner-despisin', non-passport-ownin' rednecks to join our glorious Revolution. But, James, have you given thought to how one must understand the results of an election?
Madison: Why, no. Should I? Surely 'tis clear? One candidate receives the greater number of votes, and is therefore the winner, entitled to the votes of the Electors and thereafter to the powers of the Presidency?
Franklin: What about ties?
Wench: Eeek!
Madison: Tut, tut. Let me help you re-tie that bodice, my dear. And remember you need to watch Mr. Franklin's hands at all times. . .
[general laughter]
Hamilton: No, no, gentlemen. 'Tis not ties about which I fret. Imagine, if you will, a candidate stands for election and receives no more than 51 votes out of each 100 cast, whilst his opponent receives but 48.
Madison: 'Tis clear he is the winner, then. Unless some votes be fraudulent?
Hamilton: No, no, let us suppose them all genuine. And of course the man is the winner, I do not deny it. But how much of a winner, eh? Surely he is not comparable to another winner, and should not wield the same powers as another President, who received 52 or 55 or even as much as 60 votes from each 100 cast.
Franklin: Why on Earth not? Surely a winner is a winner? Can a man be barely dead? A woman be slightly pregnant? Can a ship set only partly to sea? What possible difference can it make whether Mr. Madison barely or overwhelmingly chooses to drink another beer?
Madison: Oh, shut up, Ben. I've only had four. And none of your "Poor Richard" simplicity here. This is statecraft, damn it. No doubt scholars will need to explain it to our descendants. Perhaps in newspaper columns. What 'tis it you suggest, Colonel? Should we enumerate the powers to be wielded by the President, in proportion to the number of votes he commands? Say, if he receives less than 52 of each 100 votes cast, he may only command officers in the Army below the rank of Sergeant, whereas receiving between 53 and 55 of each 100 votes cast he may command officers up to the rank of Colonel, and so forth? 'Twill mean a great deal more writing, I fear.
Franklin: This is insane. If the President does not wield these powers, because he is not a compleat President, who shall wield them?
Hamilton: Of course he shall wield them. He shall be a compleat President. But. . .he must wield them gently.
Madison: Gently?
Franklin: He should say please much more often, you think? Speak softly?
Hamilton: No, no, he should certainly act naturally. . . but with due regard for the opinion of others.
Franklin: Which others? The voters who supported him? Surely he would do that anyway.
Hamilton: No, not them. They've had their say -- their guy got elected. I meant with due regard for the opinion of voters who opposed him.
Madison: But. . .but surely, they will always have a low opinion of the actions his judgment and character would naturally incline him to take, since they opposed his election.
Hamilton: Naturally, yes.
Madison: Then how might a President give due regard to the opinions of his opponent's supporters?
Hamilton: Why, by acting less in the manner which is own judgment would recommend, and more in the manner in which their judgment would recommend.
Madison: You mean, essentially in the manner of his opponent?
Hamilton: Exactly so.
Madison: Ah. So, if a man be elected President by a majority but not by. . .er. . .not by. . .
Hamilton: Not with a mandate.
Madison: . . .not with, as you say, a mandate, then when President he must exert himself to follow the wishes of his opponents' supporters. To act, in short, as if he were his opponent. . .
Franklin: Why not just replace him with his opponent, hey? Simpler all around. Surely the opponent himself would do a better job of representing his supporters.
Madison: Don't be daft, Franklin. His opponent lost the election, remember?
Franklin: Oh, right. I forgot.
Hamilton: Look, it would be an important way to heal the country after a particularly divisive election, don't you see? People will more quickly gain trust in the President's integrity when he betrays the people who elected him, which is to say, that majority of the people who prefer him.
Franklin: Well, obviously. Now, a man could win election by as much as 70 or 80 votes out of 100 if his opponent were a complete imbecile, a farce, so terrible to contemplate in power that reasonable voters have no choice but to vote for the eventual winner, even if they find him largely repellant. In such a case quite a number of the winner's supporters, perhaps even a majority, may disagree with him in many important essentials. What then?
Hamilton: Clearly the winner has a mandate, and may act without constraint.
Franklin: Excellent! How clearly you put things. And, by contrast, when a man wins a hard-fought election, in which the people have a very plausible alternative available, so that there is no doubt that those who do support him support him with powerful conviction?
Hamilton: Why then, the majority will probably be slim. . .
Franklin: . . . and the winner should be most careful to act in ways contrary to the expectations of those who supported him, that is, he should be at pains to ignore the wishes of the majority!
Hamilton: Naturally! How else can he restore the people's faith in democracy?
Franklin: Astonishing. Do you know, I had never thought of this?
Madison: Nor I, frankly. It's good we had this discussion, Colonel Hamilton. I fear we were in danger of enshrining something very like majority rule in this new democracy of ours.
Hamilton: A grave mistake, indeed, fortunately now avoided.
Franklin: Gentlemen, let us celebrate the triumph of common sense. Another round?
[further crackling noises]
"Begin with the facts: A 51-48 percent victory is not a mandate."One can be forgiven for being momentarily stunned by this evidence that the erudite and influential Mr. Dionne is very well connected indeed when it comes to politics, because he knows how many votes constitute a mandate.
That, dear reader, is the most inside of inside political knowledge. Who among us, even after burning much midnight oil in law school, popping No-Doz like candy, poring sentence by sentence over 650 pages of God-damned Federalist Papers essays, can say the same?
The agile mind might even be forgiven, in a moment of such humiliation, for descending briefly into the cynical suspicion that Mr. Dionne's actual definition of a mandate is simply one more vote than the winning Republican candidate receives.
But this is an unworthy thought. And unnecessary, as it turns out. The historical record can now reveal to us just how the Framers of our system of government thought on this weighty issue.
For example, untranscribed Dictaphone audiotapes have recently been unearthed from the files of Princess Leia Organa, whose unpaid service as transcribing secretary to the Constitutional Convention of 1787 has long been ignored by historians to whom only the contributions of white male Earth-born participants were worthy of study.
These audiotapes have been authenticated by a team of experts assembled by CBS News and the New York Times, and the one most pertinent to our inquiry consists of a recording made in a private room at the City Tavern in Philadelphia, during September of 1787, as the final form of the Constitution was being decided.
The voices have been identified by handwriting experts as those of James Madison, principal architect of the Constitution, Alexander Hamilton, first Secretary of the Treasury, patriot Benjamin Franklin, and a serving wench of unknown provenance but evident pulchritude:
Let's listen in:
[crackling noises]
Hamilton: James, there's something bothering me about your otherwise elegant draft. Here in Article II you enumerate the powers of the President --
Serving Wench: And here we are, gents! That's a pint of our best for Mr. H, another for Jimmy dear, and a nice cuppa for Mr. Franklin.
[sound of glass tipping]
Franklin: Oi, wench! Mind the parchment!
Wench: Sorry! I'll fetch a rag directly.
Madison: Never mind, dear. It's only a draft. But Colonel Hamilton, I should think the President's powers are clear enough. He's to be Commander in Chief, appoint judges, make treaties, et cetera, all of which we talked over last week.
Hamilton: Yes, I recall. But James, who do you mean by "the President"?
Madison: Ah, you want the previous section, then, on the selection of the President. See it says here: "Each State shall appoint, in such a manner as the legislature thereof may direct, a number of Electors. . ."
Hamilton: By in such manner you probably mean an election, I daresay?
Madison: Why, yes, that would be the general idea.
Franklin: Easier to toss a coin. Probably as well, too, among the Southern states.
[general laughter]
Hamilton: To be sure, aged forefather. I've long suspected General Washington was drunk at the time he allowed those self-righteous, gun-totin', military-lovin', sister-marryin', abortion-hatin', gay-loathin', foreigner-despisin', non-passport-ownin' rednecks to join our glorious Revolution. But, James, have you given thought to how one must understand the results of an election?
Madison: Why, no. Should I? Surely 'tis clear? One candidate receives the greater number of votes, and is therefore the winner, entitled to the votes of the Electors and thereafter to the powers of the Presidency?
Franklin: What about ties?
Wench: Eeek!
Madison: Tut, tut. Let me help you re-tie that bodice, my dear. And remember you need to watch Mr. Franklin's hands at all times. . .
[general laughter]
Hamilton: No, no, gentlemen. 'Tis not ties about which I fret. Imagine, if you will, a candidate stands for election and receives no more than 51 votes out of each 100 cast, whilst his opponent receives but 48.
Madison: 'Tis clear he is the winner, then. Unless some votes be fraudulent?
Hamilton: No, no, let us suppose them all genuine. And of course the man is the winner, I do not deny it. But how much of a winner, eh? Surely he is not comparable to another winner, and should not wield the same powers as another President, who received 52 or 55 or even as much as 60 votes from each 100 cast.
Franklin: Why on Earth not? Surely a winner is a winner? Can a man be barely dead? A woman be slightly pregnant? Can a ship set only partly to sea? What possible difference can it make whether Mr. Madison barely or overwhelmingly chooses to drink another beer?
Madison: Oh, shut up, Ben. I've only had four. And none of your "Poor Richard" simplicity here. This is statecraft, damn it. No doubt scholars will need to explain it to our descendants. Perhaps in newspaper columns. What 'tis it you suggest, Colonel? Should we enumerate the powers to be wielded by the President, in proportion to the number of votes he commands? Say, if he receives less than 52 of each 100 votes cast, he may only command officers in the Army below the rank of Sergeant, whereas receiving between 53 and 55 of each 100 votes cast he may command officers up to the rank of Colonel, and so forth? 'Twill mean a great deal more writing, I fear.
Franklin: This is insane. If the President does not wield these powers, because he is not a compleat President, who shall wield them?
Hamilton: Of course he shall wield them. He shall be a compleat President. But. . .he must wield them gently.
Madison: Gently?
Franklin: He should say please much more often, you think? Speak softly?
Hamilton: No, no, he should certainly act naturally. . . but with due regard for the opinion of others.
Franklin: Which others? The voters who supported him? Surely he would do that anyway.
Hamilton: No, not them. They've had their say -- their guy got elected. I meant with due regard for the opinion of voters who opposed him.
Madison: But. . .but surely, they will always have a low opinion of the actions his judgment and character would naturally incline him to take, since they opposed his election.
Hamilton: Naturally, yes.
Madison: Then how might a President give due regard to the opinions of his opponent's supporters?
Hamilton: Why, by acting less in the manner which is own judgment would recommend, and more in the manner in which their judgment would recommend.
Madison: You mean, essentially in the manner of his opponent?
Hamilton: Exactly so.
Madison: Ah. So, if a man be elected President by a majority but not by. . .er. . .not by. . .
Hamilton: Not with a mandate.
Madison: . . .not with, as you say, a mandate, then when President he must exert himself to follow the wishes of his opponents' supporters. To act, in short, as if he were his opponent. . .
Franklin: Why not just replace him with his opponent, hey? Simpler all around. Surely the opponent himself would do a better job of representing his supporters.
Madison: Don't be daft, Franklin. His opponent lost the election, remember?
Franklin: Oh, right. I forgot.
Hamilton: Look, it would be an important way to heal the country after a particularly divisive election, don't you see? People will more quickly gain trust in the President's integrity when he betrays the people who elected him, which is to say, that majority of the people who prefer him.
Franklin: Well, obviously. Now, a man could win election by as much as 70 or 80 votes out of 100 if his opponent were a complete imbecile, a farce, so terrible to contemplate in power that reasonable voters have no choice but to vote for the eventual winner, even if they find him largely repellant. In such a case quite a number of the winner's supporters, perhaps even a majority, may disagree with him in many important essentials. What then?
Hamilton: Clearly the winner has a mandate, and may act without constraint.
Franklin: Excellent! How clearly you put things. And, by contrast, when a man wins a hard-fought election, in which the people have a very plausible alternative available, so that there is no doubt that those who do support him support him with powerful conviction?
Hamilton: Why then, the majority will probably be slim. . .
Franklin: . . . and the winner should be most careful to act in ways contrary to the expectations of those who supported him, that is, he should be at pains to ignore the wishes of the majority!
Hamilton: Naturally! How else can he restore the people's faith in democracy?
Franklin: Astonishing. Do you know, I had never thought of this?
Madison: Nor I, frankly. It's good we had this discussion, Colonel Hamilton. I fear we were in danger of enshrining something very like majority rule in this new democracy of ours.
Hamilton: A grave mistake, indeed, fortunately now avoided.
Franklin: Gentlemen, let us celebrate the triumph of common sense. Another round?
[further crackling noises]
posted by Quadraginta at 3:26 AM
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