Obama's refusal of federal funding

Obama's refusal to accept the $85 million standard offer of federal funding for presidential candidates (the first time it has been turned down by a presidential candidate since it was put in place after Nixon's Watergate) is another sign of Obama's distrust of central government, and a further suggestion he is not a typical big state, high tax, high spend liberal. 

The presidential campaign subsidy was created with the laudable aim of generating a level playing field for presidential candidates, and reducing the dependence on lobby groups. However, the sum may be augmented by supporting campaigns from political parties. This is where Obama, perhaps justifiably, identifies bias in the system. Currently the Republican party has $20 million in its coffers, whereas the Democratic party only has $2 million.

Obama's solution is radical, but not entirely surprising. Given the circumstances in which he finds himself, he prefers to raise his presidential campaign finance from private donations. This follows his unprecedentedly successful fundraising efforts for the Democratic nomination, during which he raised more than twice as much primarily from small donors ($265 million) as the formidable Clinton machine ($115 million). Is his preference for the free market in raising funds, as opposed to government subsidy, indicative of future policy? 

This question has been obscured by the recent criticism levelled at Obama in media such as the New York Times and Washington Post for reneging on an assurance which he gave last year that he would abide by the federal election funding scheme set up after the 1974 Watergate scandal. Obama argues that the well-funded Republican party "has mastered the art of gaming" what he calls a "broken system", for example by mounting supporting campaigns for its candidate such as the "swift boat" campaign which so damaged Kerry. If Obama committed himself to accepting the subsidy,  he would forgo the advantage of raising up to $400 million for his presidential campaign from private donors. He would thus throw away a major campaign advantage over McCain, who has not been able to remotely match him in direct fundraising from supporters. In the interests of reaching the presidency, and against the current criticisms of the New York Times and Washington Post, Obama's decision is not only understandable but reflects the tactical clarity and occasional ruthlessness which has characterised his entire campaign. 

There are two strands in Obama's thinking which support the conclusion that his preference for market fundraising reflects a deeper attitude than limited tactical campaign advantage. In his book The Audacity of Hope Obama constantly praises the free market, and cites its role as a key difference between the successful US economy and other countries, such as Indonesia, in which he has lived in or (in the case of Kenya) has consistently visited. The second strand is Obama's "outsider" status, his dislike of the federal government machine and its association with the "old" politics. This leads to the question: if Obama instinctively seeks solutions outside the federal machine for raising his own campaign finance, is he not equally likely to seek non-centrist solutions in managing the economy?

This orientation is present in Obama's campaign rhetoric. Hillary Clinton, a classic big tax, big spend centrist, often speaks of being the people's champion, which is code for imposing policy decisions through central government. By contrast Obama's campaign appeal is geared towards individual aspiration, towards encouraging the individual to overcome obstacles, so that groups of empowered individuals can make a difference ("Yes we can"). It could be said that Clinton, a policy wonk to her fingertips, prefers to rule, whereas Obama prefers to enable.

In an impressive article in the Times, the historian Tristram Hunt has analysed Obama's political gestation in the city of Chicago. Hunt points out that Chicago is the crucible of American socialism, but also that its formidable university (where Obama lectures in law) is perhaps most famous for the "Chicago school" of revolutionary free-market economists, whose leading lights included Milton Friedman and Friedrich von Hayek. 

Perhaps significantly, Milton Friedman's son David, a libertarian, has recently pronounced himself an Obamacon partly because he believes Obama supports school vouchers, but also because Obama's objectives of withdrawing from Iraq and reining back the Patriot Act fulfil libertarian ideals.

A combination of left wing social ideals (popular with the liberal audience) and small state economic radicalism (more acceptable to America's large libertarian wing than, say, Clintonite centralism) would be a formidable platform for gathering votes from both the left and right. Let us see whether these broad predictions are fulfilled over the next few months as Obama tacks to the centre and begins to assemble his presidential support.

David Davis part 2

Following the resignation of David Davis from Parliament over the issue of civil liberties, and his precipitation of a local constituency election, a number of commentators have pointed out that there is a significant difference in the response between those in the "Westminster village", who have largely been hostile to Davis, and the blogosphere and wider public realm, where the response has been strongly supportive.

One of the central claims of the Westminster village — that Davis's action will damage the Conservative party — already shows signs of being ill-founded. The latest opinion polls, taken after Davis's spectacular resignation, indicate an increased Conservative lead over Labour. If anything, the public seems to like politicians who act out of principle and against the interests of their own career.

In my last posting, I proposed that a key benefit of the Davis resignation and local election is that it demonstrates the fundamental divide between libertarians and authoritarians — a division which is arguably more important than that between the increasingly imprecise "right" and "left". Adding to this welcome new political theatre, the doughty maverick Labour MP Bob Marshall-Andrews, an anti-Iraq War protester and general thorn in the side of New Labour, has thrown his support behind Davis.

Who will stand against Davis, and champion the case that in the present international environment security should take precedence over liberty? It is a position profoundly worth arguing, and ideally it demands a polemicist of the highest order. Will one of the New Labour heavyweights step into the breach? Or perhaps a big Tory beast, like Michael Heseltine, who was one of the first to voice criticism of Davis's resignation?

We suspect not. In this respect, Davis has already demonstrated that his critics in the Westminster village may be happy to question his motives and his sanity from the sidelines, but when the opportunity arises to make their case in open and fair debate, all we have heard so far is the sound of shuffling feet.

David Davis and the emergence of the new politics

It is fascinating to observe the fallout from the resignation yesterday from Parliament by David Davis, the shadow foreign secretary and runner-up to David Cameron in the Conservative leadership election of two years ago. The resignation, on what appears to be a matter of deepest principle, has induced in the reporting classes something close to collective nervous breakdown.

Those who make their living by commenting on politics always seek, by instinct, to look beneath the action for an ulterior motive, preferably one which is self-serving and venal. Psychologists call this “projection”. In Davis’s case, that community simply cannot bring itself to believe Davis’s explanation — namely, that he was so disgusted by the recent narrow vote in favour of extending detention without trial to 42 days, and the background whipping and bribing which seems to have taken place to ensure that narrow majority, that he felt obliged to resign his Parliamentary seat and hold a local election on the issue of civil liberties. Davis has said the vote was the last straw for him in a long decade of the erosion of civil rights under Labour, including the recent legislation for identity cards and the installation of one public surveillance camera for every 14 people in the country.

With superb cynicism, Harriet Harman, Labour’s deputy leader, claimed that the resignation was the result of internal tensions within the Conservative party. This might sound plausible enough, but Davis and Cameron are both in strong agreement in their opposition to the extension to 42 days.

Members of the commentariat have variously assumed as Davis’s motive uncontrolled egotism, a rush of blood to the head, the frustrations of acting as second fiddle to David Cameron, various hypothetical (and largely unsupported) divergences of political view within the shadow cabinet — anything, that is, but what appears to be the actual motive, which is to bring to public view the central issue of Labour’s systematic attack on civil liberties through the admittedly dramatic intervention of a local election precipitated by Davis’s resignation.

Something else may surprise the commentariat when it has recovered from its hysteria over the fact that a politician is capable, for once, of acting out of principle. It is a feature which, so far as we know, has not been commented upon. This emerges from the fact that Nick Clegg, the leader of the Liberal Democrats, has refused to allow his party to compete for the seat because he believes that the issues on which Davis are resigning are more important than simple party advantage. Clegg emphasises that he does not agree on much else with Davis, who is in favour of capital punishment for certain offences and has somewhat draconian views on the restriction of immigration. But this only serves to emphasise the point. The resignation episode is one of the first signs of the radical reordering of politics into libertarians and centralists. The “right-wing” Davis and the “centre-left” Clegg have found an issue of principle — the defence of civil liberties against an overbearing state — on which both, in their own ways, are prepared to make a stand. Meanwhile, while allowing time for the commentariat to recover from their collective hysteria about Davis’s motives, let us prepare ourselves for a remarkable few weeks of much-needed debate on a crucially important subject until the local election takes place.

Borges/di Giovanni republication

In an earlier post last month I outlined the case that the definitive Borges/di Giovanni translations of Borges’ work into English are now largely no longer in print as the result of the actions of Maria Kodama, Borges’ widow. Motivated by what appear to be entirely pecuniary interests, she has effectively replaced them with grossly inferior English translations by Andrew Hurley. The object of the exercise appears to have been to create alternative translations in which she has 100% ownership.

One eccentric individual’s pecuniary motive is not surprising in itself. What is truly shocking, however, is the pusillanimity of both our publishing and literary establishments in allowing this literary outrage to proceed.

Meanwhile, di Giovanni has a strong legal case for republishing the Borges/di Giovanni translations on his own authority. He possesses numerous signed contracts with Borges in which he has joint and equal copyright over the translations. It is clear, indeed inarguable, that Borges wished to conduct these definitive translations entirely on the basis of joint ownership.

In Britain and America, a great raft of mercantile law supports the notion that the surviving equal partner in any enterprise has a moral right to earn a living by his own work. Di Giovanni’s case as the surviving partner — should he wish to authorise the republication of the Borges/di Giovanni translations — is therefore strong, perhaps unanswerable, in law. Any attempt by another party to prevent that publication is likely to be considered in restraint of trade.

There are, in addition to the legal case, clear moral precedents. As I set out in my earlier post, Borges not only collaborated with di Giovanni in minutely overseeing the translations, but in the process of that collaboration Borges took advantage of the opportunity to revise his Spanish originals. The Borges/di Giovanni translations therefore not only represent Borges’ determined attempt to create definitive English translations of his major works, but there is a strong case for believing that the Borges/di Giovanni translations represent Borges’ final revision of the major body of his oeuvre.

Borges is amongst the most influential writers of the twentieth century. His poetic conciseness, in combination with his philosophical and metaphysical range, have had a huge effect on subsequent writers. If Britain and America possessed a strong and healthy literary elite, rather than a collection of literary celebrities promoted by large publishing corporations, there would be widespread and public outrage at this literary felony. Instead, a number of those figures who admire the Borges/di Giovanni translations and who might be enlisted to help — for example Martin Amis and Salman Rushdie — are also represented by Andrew Wylie, the same agent who has colluded with Maria Kodama to replace the original definitive translations with the grossly inferior Andrew Hurley versions.

A melancholy symmetry pervades the story. Borges’ full international reputation was first established with the publication of the Borges/di Giovanni translations in the New Yorker between 1969-72. Before their publication he was considered an obscure Argentine master. After their publication he was elevated to one of the dominant figures of twentieth century writing. The Hurley translations, which first appeared in 2002, have effectively reversed this process. They have already helped to reduce Borges’ international reputation, and in due course, without access to the definitive Borges/di Giovanni translations, that reputation will continue to decline to its original position before the publication of the Borges/di Giovanni translations.

Given the story, and the legal and moral precedents involved, one would assume that major publishers would beat a path to Norman Thomas di Giovanni’s door, compete to seek his permission to republish the works, and enjoy the glory of returning to print arguably one of the most important bodies of post-war writing in the English language. The fact that this has not happened is, unfortunately, testament both to the nature of that publishing establishment and the nature of those who enjoy its patronage.

A constant refrain of this blog is that corporate publishers and editors tend to be somewhat pusillanimous creatures, driven by their marketing departments on the one hand and by a narrow vision of commercial imperative on the other. The case of the Borges/di Giovanni translations illustrates, to a remarkable degree, the literary bankruptcy of the English language publishing establishment, and the shallowness of those writers whom that establishment seeks to promote. At the most brutal level, it is a literary establishment manifestly incapable of protecting its most important heritage.

In the absence of a publishing industry worth the name, one of the options which di Giovanni will consider is whether to publish the Borges/di Giovanni translations on the internet, perhaps supplemented by print-on-demand editions. At the very least this would give access to a younger generation of readers. And it may even have the unexpected benefit of shaming our publishing establishment into behaving responsibly at last, and into putting its weight behind a new edition of some of the most important and seminal works in the English language.

Obama's foreign policy triumph

There is a superb article in the Guardian today by Michael Tomasky, the Guardian's American editor, on Obama's powerful counterstrike against the criticism leveled at him by George W Bush. Bush recently took advantage of a visit to the Israeli Knesset to launch an attack on Obama's proposed policy of talking without preconditions to America's enemies. Tomasky takes up the story:

Last Thursday, speaking before the Knesset in Jerusalem, George Bush compared "some" Democrats to those who thought in 1939 that war might have been avoided if we'd just been able to sit down with Hitler and talk some sense into him. This was, despite some White House demurrals, a clear shot at Obama, who has repeatedly announced his intention to negotiate personally as president, and "without preconditions", with the likes of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and Hugo Chávez.

John McCain, that same Thursday morning, was giving a speech in part about the need to move beyond the partisan bickering of the last decade. Within an hour or two, following Bush's lead, McCain attacked Obama: "What does he want to talk about with Ahmadinejad, who said Israel is a stinking corpse?" The Obama campaign emailed reporters accusing Bush of launching "a false political attack".

Tomasky argues that earlier Democratic contenders, such as Kerry, would have simply ducked this one, while Bill Clinton would have attempted to turn the agenda back to the economy. Hillary, if her own foreign policy had been questioned, would have merely reiterated a more hawkish position, such as her recent assertion that under certain circumstances America could "obliterate" Iran. Obama is unique in hitting back powerfully and coherently to defend his own position, at the same time pointing out that McCain had also stated in 2006 that he would talk directly to Hamas. Wittily, Obama also proceeded to emphasise the difference in foreign policy between the younger and older Bush as presidents, suggesting he preferred the less aggressive and intrusive foreign policy of the older Bush. Tomasky says - correctly in my view - that Obama won this initial confrontation, a first for a non-hawkish Democrat in the traditional republican "stronghold" area of foreign policy.

For those who have predicted that the future presidential campaign will revolve around the McCain/Republican claim that Obama cannot be trusted with America's security, this initial confrontation suggests a novel new turn. After losing the first engagement, the Republicans should not too easily assume their natural chief weapon against Obama is security and foreign policy.

This is the second time in the last few months that Obama has demonstrated his uniquely powerful intellect as a liberal Democratic candidate. The first was his historic speech of March 18 asserting that if America's racial problems were to be healed, the country must face up to the fact that a significant number of black Americans, especially of an older generation, viewed America as their oppressor and would be inclined to sympathise with the underlying anger, if not the precise extremist expressions, of his former pastor Reverend Wright.

Tomasky's coverage of the American election has been unfailingly excellent. He and Andrew Sullivan, of the Sunday Times, have provided a continuous commentary of superb quality to a British readership increasingly aware of the extraordinary and perhaps unprecedented political developments that are taking place in America in the dying year of the Bush administration.

This blog is deeply interested in Obama not least because of his remarkable literary credentials. In our view, he is the most literate (in the fullest possible meaning of the term) of American presidential candidates since the political giants of the Enlightenment. 

By contrast, for a typically lucid account of McCain's candidacy, it is worth reading Andrew Sullivan's most recent Sunday Times article on McCain's adoption of Cameronian techniques to detoxify the Republican image in the wake of George W Bush's two terms. Even more conservative Republicans are beginning to recognise that McCain's version of compassionate conservatism is the only strategy which can compete effectively against Obama for the unusually large proportion of centrist or "uncommitted" voters. The forthcoming battle between Obama and McCain will explore entirely new territory, is likely to significantly redefine left and right, and promises to be fascinating.

Does Obama need the Democrats? (part 2)

Last month, on 24 March, I posted an article called Does Obama need the Democrats? Perhaps, after Hillary Clinton's Pennsylvania win, it deserves another airing.

The article proposed that if the Democratic party superdelegates decided in due course to overrule the pledged delegates and prefer Clinton as the presidential candidate, the Democrats might find that Obama responded by declaring himself the moral victor and running for president as an independent. Obama has far fewer ties to the Democrats than the Clintons, and has consistently decried the polarisation into "red" and "blue" states. His reasons for running as an independent would therefore be highly consistent with his previous statements and policies.

In other words the Democrats, by choosing Clinton, might unleash circumstances in which their own candidate faced not one but two formidable opponents. More than this, they might do so under circumstances in which Obama would take from Clinton a considerable proportion of the Democratic vote. If this were so, choosing Clinton over Obama, far from increasing the chances of the Democrats winning the presidency, might be the equivalent of jumping from the frying pan into the fire.

Meanwhile, Clinton's camp is arguing that the Pennsylvania result demonstrates that Obama cannot win the white working class vote which they believe will be essential to a successful campaign for the presidency. It's an unusually good argument from a candidate who until recently has been mainly clutching at straws. However, perhaps we should hold back our judgement for the time being on whether Hillary Clinton's argument is correct. An alternative explanation of Obama's lack of success in Pennsylvania is that not that the white working class is inherently biased against Obama, but that amongst the various electoral groupings it is simply the most "conservative" with a small "c". This could mean that it is likely to be slower than the other groups, such as middle class and educated whites, blacks and latinos, to arrive in numbers at the Obama banner. It will be interesting to see whether Indiana, which contains another large white working class population, continues to hold out so steadfastly against Obama.

Against this, there is little doubt that Obama created significant difficulties for himself in suggesting that the poorer sections of the working class were often embittered and turned for consolation to guns, religion, and prejudice against others. There is surely an element of truth in assertions from the Clinton camp that he is something of a liberal elitist (even though it applies perhaps more to Clinton). As liberal elitists go, however, he is a very fine one -- preternaturally lucid, graceful in argument, incisive of mind.

This blog is interested in Obama for a number of reasons, not least for what it shows about shifting public opinion in America. Joe Klein, whose novel Primary Colours was a brilliant evocation and satire of a presidential candidate closely resembling Bill Clinton, asks on the cover of Obama's autobiography Dreams from my Father whether it is not the finest ever autobiography from a politician. Taking that as a cue, it this blog's view at any rate that Obama represents the most gifted intellect to approach the presidential elections since the Enlightenment. That does not, of course, mean that he will win, or indeed that these are the same talents that make a fine president. Meanwhile, it is certainly interesting to watch his progress through the minefields of the Democratic nomination, whose startling shifts and transformations surely make it one of the most complex, exasperating and fascinating political contests of all time.

Mugabe and my South African past

As brief personal background, I was born in South Africa in 1948. My father, Robin Collins, wrote a series of novels under his own name and the nom-de-plume of Robin Cranford. One of these novels, My City Fears Tomorrow, set in Johannesburg, was banned by the apartheid regime because it described, with considerable precision, how black Africans had no civil rights and could be arrested and tortured by the police effectively without redress. Not long afterwards my father, who was a liberal, decided he would prefer to take advantage of his dual British citizenship, and the family settled in England in 1960. We greatly preferred Britain's settled tolerance to South Africa's institutionalised racism.

I retain vivid memories of South Africa, and have been haunted by her history and that of her neighbours. I remember as a child that parks had chairs which had blankes (whites in Afrikaans) and nie-blankes (non-whites) written on them. As part of my South African childhood, it was an extraordinary experience to travel north in the late 1950s on holiday to Rhodesia (as Zimbabwe then was ) and go into hotel bars where white barmen were serving prosperous black businessmen. Compared with South Africa, Rhodesia was then a model of racial toleration. To my eyes, it is a special tragedy that subsequently, under the Smith regime, Rhodesia was forced to undergo a brutal civil war between white settlers and African freedom fighters, a war which has had profound consequences in shaping Zimbabwe's subsequent history. Perhaps the most tragic of these is that nearly three decades after achieving independence, Mugabe's administration continues to live in the past, invoking an imaginary threat from Britain to justify its right to rig elections and use violent repression against the democratic majority.

Considering the moral and political support which is currently being given to Robert Mugabe by the South African president Thabo Mbeki, I have written a commentary on the most recent events in Zimbabwe on my Warwick Collins blog.