You can lose when you're doing something important

One conspicuous symptom of our miserable times is the number of politicians leaving careers in defeat or being written off well before their next election. Most noted has been the defeat of some 54 incumbents in the November US congressional elections.

But political exile is common elsewhere. In Canada, Gordon Campbell, the Premier of British Columbia, was effectively chased out of office for expanding the tax base. Nationally, Stephane Dion, the Liberal Party’s former leader, summarily lost his job after unsuccessfully advocating a carbon tax to fight climate change.  Today, in London, Nick Clegg, leader of the Liberal Democratic Party has, in one season, gone from being Britain’s most liked politician to “Nick Clegg, Dick Head!”

A great deal of human capital has been forcefully withdrawn from public service and many good people are finding themselves with fewer friends.

Today, with so many really smart people, with high incomes, dependent on the favourable opinions of voters, defeat causes many to shudder like seeing a bat at dusk. Increasingly, consultants treat defeat as a medical illness; insisting that with the proper application of market intelligence and personal discipline other politicians can avoid the same fate.

However, political defeat is not a medical condition or a freakish occurrence. It is a good politician’s unshakable companion. Competent representative democracy could not carry on without it.

We know stories about Presidents and Prime Ministers who stood by their convictions. However, an equally relevant and inspiring book on the subject of political courage was written by an American historian about Winston Churchill’s followers in the House of Commons in the 1930s. Lynne Olsen, in “Troublesome Young Men,” tells the story of the handful of back-benchers who defied Chamberlain’s policy of appeasement, risking their careers and social standing against a massive majority in Parliament and in the country. What is striking about these mavericks was their youth, savvy and ambition. Individually, most all of them rightfully aimed for high political office. (Two, in fact, eventually became Prime Ministers.) Despite their personal ambitions, they stood against the professionals and with Winston Churchill, a loner, a has-been, a bore to many, who appeared to lack the humility and discipline to tack or make new friends.

The contemporary political victims noted earlier are not amateurish or arrogantly disdainful of the preferences of their constituents either. By and large, they are hard working representatives, not especially disputatious or headstrong. Their unpopularity was born in conscious efforts to tackle important challenges, to serve an urgent public interest.

Furthermore, they see themselves as moderates and pragmatic; their positions were unpopular even though they were often compromises as well.  Nevertheless, on climate change, fiscal stability and universal healthcare, these modern politicians recognized that a viable response to the problem at hand required their support, whether that response was popular yet or not.

If there is anything inspiring about 2010 to take into a bracing New Year it is not the public’s ability to rage, but the continuing ability of a goodly number of politicians to pay for their principles.

Uncertain Americans should vote too

You lucky citizens of the world who can vote in tomorrow’s mid-term elections: suck it up and get it done.

We know that half of you don’t plan to show up. Watching from the outside, we understand why: $4 billion of campaign money has cheapened the issues, given clowns and neophytes an even chance, and—as important—invited the uncertain and the turned-off to feel good about staying home. While many of us elsewhere in the world shake our heads in agreement, you’ll let your country, and the rest of us, down if you don’t vote.

The anti-politician crack—“Don’t vote; it only encourages them”—isn’t a joke on politicians. It’s their bread and butter. They don’t want you to show up. Those who work North American politics for a living, who shape elections and trim the ambitions of democratic governments, concentrate on the votes they already hold as each campaign comes to a close. They bolster opinions that are already passionately held, and largely dismiss the undecided. (A Toronto pollster calculated recently that it probably takes three times more time and money to persuade an undecided voter to support a candidate than it costs to stir up the base.)

Relying only on those who need to be absolutely sure of their opinions and who believe that the others are rednecks or sissies, however, leads to bad government. The philosopher, Michael Oakeshott is right: in politics, there is no agreed starting point or contract with the past, no destination charted by the gods for our taking. The larger the share of actual voters that have the integrity and sense of humor to accept that the candidate of their choosing doesn’t have all the answers, the closer the United States will get to the promise of responsive, effective government. And sometimes, on this fortunate continent, we need government smart enough to manage problems that lesser governments put off.

Political scientists shrug: the undecided will fall in line much like the rest, their turn-out won’t make a difference. But this is not only a static-numbers game. Watering down the dominance of political junkies and fanatics holds the possibility of improving the overall tone of politics and the future calculations of each political party. If the winners rediscover that pragmatists, skeptics, and even pessimists vote too, they may find it safer, as well as wise, to act responsibly. They’ll know at least one thing: a whole lot of you don’t understand. How can you vote for more for seniors and more for defense, be for lower taxes, and be for financing trillion-dollar deficits with low interest loans from China—and take your grandchildren to patriotic rallies?