Television People

Notwithstanding the “outsider” shtick favored by right-wing populists in Washington and, on the other side of the political spectrum, progressives’ penchant for waving the “everyday people” banner, the average American sees an unbridgeable chasm between themselves and those who debate the issues that ultimately decide the economic fate of Main Street.

Every evening across the country, working people turn on their televisions or scroll through their social media feeds and see politicians, academics, experts and pundits blaming each other for this or that societal ill, and without fail, each and every one them claims for themselves the mantle of “the American people.” The discussion is often refereed by anchors caked in makeup, who likewise claim to represent the interests of the public.

It’s true that Americans trust some politicians, economists and experts more than others, and the same goes for anchors, some of whom (like Tucker Carlson) are vastly more influential than their guests. That trust and influence has virtually nothing to do with the veracity of any evidence presented, and everything to do with partisan affiliation. But by and large, when Americans watch the news, either on television or via clips posted to social media, they see an argument to which they aren’t a party, and depressingly, the outcome of that argument has the potential to impact their lives, despite their having no seat at the discussion table. The idea of representative democracy in America is a sad joke, unless by “representative” you mean special interests. This perpetuates a cycle of disaffection and disengagement, which only makes the situation worse, and it’s also conducive to the latent build up of anger.

The television arguments are resolved or they aren’t, and most regular people’s daily lives aren’t affected in the very near-term. That’s problematic enough on its own. Ideally, policymaking should have a perceptible positive impact on the lives of those for whom policy is made, and people shouldn’t have to wait around on it forever. But the real issue is that the cumulative effects of the decisions made by a relatively small cadre of politicians, academics, economists and corporations have been absolutely ruinous for Main Street over the long-term.

On rare occasions, the television people make decisions that are near-term ruinous, which is what’s on the verge of happening with the US debt ceiling. I’ve lamented the absurdity of this “Capitol offense” repeatedly. This is the issue du jour for the television people, and Americans are currently being subjected to an especially contentious round of finger-pointing and an especially disingenuous cacophony of fiscal and social virtue signaling.

At some point over the next eight or nine months, America could fail to meet its dollar-denominated financial obligations, an outcome so absurd that it should be impossible. In a philosophical sense, you can’t “default” on financial obligations payable in a currency that you issue, and in the US case, that truism is even truer because other than happiness, there’s nothing in the world that US dollars can’t buy. In short, the US government is now so broken that the sheer quantum of ineptitude concentrated inside the Beltway is powerful enough to overcome the rules of logic.

On Friday, two-dozen Republican senators sent a letter to Joe Biden emphasizing that “any increase in the debt ceiling must be accompanied by cuts in federal spending of an equal or greater amount as the debt ceiling increase, or meaningful structural reform.” “We do not intend to vote for a debt-ceiling increase without reforms,” the lawmakers said, grandstanding.

Mitch McConnell has variously insisted this isn’t the Senate’s problem. Instead, he claims, it’s an issue to be resolved by Biden and Kevin McCarthy. That’s not entirely true, but even if it were, it’s problematic because in order to secure the House gavel, McCarthy made a laundry list of concessions to his far-right flank, most of whom evidence nothing in the way of appreciation for the gravity of the debt ceiling discussion, just as they evidenced nothing in the way of appreciation for why peaceful transfers of power are important in a democracy.

For his part, Biden has taken to calling Republicans the party of “chaos and catastrophe,” which is objectively true, but unhelpful for at least three reasons. First, he’s one of the television people, and Americans who identify as Republicans don’t enjoy being called anarchists by the president. Second, McCarthy is beholden to the “chaos and catastrophe” contingent, so if negotiating with him is imperative, it’d be better not to publicly castigate the anarchists. Third, and mostly importantly, if the White House does indeed fear “chaos and catastrophe” and is serious about not allowing the country to be taken hostage via the default threat, one way to expedite a fix is to tell the American people, unequivocally, that in the event the situation isn’t resolved in time, Biden will simply instruct the Treasury department to pay, in full, the country’s existing obligations both domestic and foreign-facing, legislation or no legislation.

If you’re inclined to say that latter suggestion isn’t possible, I’d be inclined to tell you that it certainly is from a technical perspective, and further, that if Biden were to make such a promise to the American people (say, in a prime time television address to the nation) and explain, in simple terms, what’s at stake, that’d put both Republicans and Democrats in Congress in a very difficult position. Assuming Treasury went along with what — I guess — would be a technically illegal decree, lawmakers would have to decide whether to save face by striking a deal ahead of time, or else impeach Biden for the “high crime and misdemeanor” of preserving the country’s full faith and credit, averting a global financial meltdown, paying the military and making good on financial obligations to America’s elderly and veterans. My guess is that, faced with such a decision, Congress would make a deal.

Of course, the White House would never do such a thing. The brinksmanship in D.C. around the debt ceiling will continue. Politicians, economists, pundits and anchors will stand on their soapboxes. And Americans with either stare vacantly at the poisonous rhetoric and petulant sniping or engage in some themselves on social media, because that’s what counts as political participation in the era of Twitter and Facebook.

At the end of the day, the television people don’t care. Why would they? Right-wing media provocateurs; high-profile Democrats; rich businessmen-turned Republican lawmakers; famous left-leaning public intellectuals with lucrative writing gigs and book deals; titans of finance preaching ESG one day and flirting with oil-rich autocrats the next; the living, breathing paradox of the millionaire “progressive”; C-suite suits making 300 times the salary of the people who actually make the widgets; all of them. They all live in the same neighborhoods. Figuratively, but also literally. They walk their dogs together, they have coffee together, they attend HOA meetings together and they have cocktail parties together.

Let’s be clear about something: It’s not a conspiracy. That’s the line the right-wing media provocateurs feed you during the day while they’re monetizing your time. Later on that evening, they have dinner with the left-wing academic down the street. I can attest to that dynamic personally. I had several dinners in the heart of Manhattan with a right-wing provocateur. He knew of my left-leaning views but, as he patiently explained, “It’s not about that. It’s about making us rich.” So no, it’s not a conspiracy. It’s a cooperative kleptocracy cynically masquerading as a competitive political duopoly.

The system is broken for everybody but the television people, and they have every reason to assume that regardless of how any given debate turns out, their positions in government, academia and the C-suite are safe and secure, gated away from the near- and long-term outcomes of the decisions they make. Decisions made with no actual, real, direct input from a thoroughly disengaged populace. Despite recent events, the television people are oblivious to the tail risk of a disengaged populace suddenly becoming highly engaged as a result of some near-term ruinous decision or indecision.