THE VIRGINIA ELECTIONS PART I: DEMISE OF THE DEMOCRATS? NOT SO FAST!

                                                             

A Republican victory in Virginia’s off-year elections (and a closer than expected win by incumbent Democrat Phil Murphy in New Jersey’s governor’s race) prompted a spate of media stories about the Democratic Party’s supposedly dismal

electoral prospects. Coupled with President Biden’s falling poll numbers, the loss by former Governor Terry McAuliffe to Glenn Youngkin and GOP gains in the Virginia legislature generated rampant speculation about Democratic prospects in the 2022 midterms and through 2024.  Some

pundits suggested it’s a foregone conclusion we’ll have a Republican Congress in 2023 and a Republican in the White House in January 2025.   We don’t subscribe to the hype, but we recognize the Virginia outcome merits discussion of where Democrats stand and what they must do so they can keep a sufficient numerical advantage.

The question takes on so much importance because

of our fractured political landscape. Republicans seem bent on destroying Democracy. Only the Democratic Party obstructs the way. It’s essential, therefore, to evaluate where Democrats stand with the electorate

and understand how the country maintains this precarious equilibrium and doesn’t buy into the Republican zero-sum game.

 

The Narrative

Virginia has trended increasingly Democratic in

recent years. Biden won the state 54-44 in 2020. George W. Bush, with a 53-45 victory over John Kerry in 2004, was the last Republican presidential candidate who won the state.  Both Virginia’s Democratic senators, 2016 vice presidential nominee Tim Kaine and Mark

Warner, easily won reelection the last time they ran (Kaine, 57-41 in 2018 and Warner, 56-44 in 2020). In 2017, in addition to the 53-45 gubernatorial victory of Ralph Northam, Democrats won majorities in both houses

of the Virginia legislature. A year later, they flipped control of the state’s congressional delegation. Because of these outcomes, the view of Virginia as a swing state eroded. Before the 2021 elections, many observers saw it as safe Democratic territory.

                                              

That prognosis, however, masked another truth

about Virginia. In its quirky odd-year races that follow election of a new president, the candidate of the party that lost the presidency usually wins the Virginia governor’s chair the next year. That happened when Northam won in 2017 following Donald Trump’s 2016 presidential victory. After Barack Obama won the White House in 2008, the next year Republican Bob McDonald took the Virginia governor’s race. In 2001, after George W. Bush’s 2000 presidential triumph, Warner captured the Virginia governorship. Republican George Allen won in Virginia in 1993 after Bill Clinton took the White House in 1992. Democrat Doug Wilder, the state’s first black governor, won in 1989 after George H.W. Bush captured the 1988 presidential election.

Virginia’s voters apparently like this arrangement, since they’ve engineered it so often. Perhaps analysts need not look beyond the history books for an understanding of the 2021 outcome.    

 

The Other Explanations             

Despite the history, however, political observers offered other explanations for Youngkin’s win and McAuliffe’s defeat:

·    The fact House Democrats didn’t pass the bipartisan infrastructure bill before the election. They approved it a few days later, but Warner asserted McAuliffe might have won if he could have campaigned on the roads, bridges, and other improvements the state would receive under the bill.

·    The Critical Race Theory boogey man. Despite no evidence any Virginia school district teaches Critical Race Theory or anything like it, Youngkin capitalized on the concerns of white parents about what’s being taught about race in public schools. McAuliffe made things worse with a tone-deaf comment that he didn’t “believe parents should be telling schools what they should teach.”

·    Biden’s performance as president. This explanation begins with the messy Afghanistan exit. McAuliffe tied himself closely to Biden. Some conservative commentators argued that as Biden’s poll numbers fell in the wake of the bad Afghanistan optics, McAuliffe suffered some of the fallout.

·    Economic anxiety. Even if the economy is doing reasonably well in bouncing back from the pandemic, fears about inflation have ramped up. Some thought that hurt McAuliffe as well.  

 

Virginia and Malcom Gladwell

We’ve taken note before of the work of social commentator Malcom Gladwell who observed in

his 2008 book Outliers: The Story of Success, that one thing seldom causes an airplane crash. Instead, most air disasters result from a cascading series of events piled on top of each other. We think that also applies to political outcomes. Races one candidate should win but doesn’t – as happened with McAuliffe – usually have many explanations, not one.

Our list of what may have created the Virginia result probably isn’t all inclusive. Other things could have played a role.  But the cause is important in light of the question we began with: What does the Virginia outcome say about where the Democratic Party stands with the electorate as the 2022 midterms and the 2024 presidential cycle approach?

We adhere to Gladwell’s basic principle – one thing seldom causes a disaster. We point to the things we’ve listed and raise the possibility that winning

in 2022 and 2024 requires that Democrats look at the question in an entirely different way. While not ignoring the list of  possible reasons for the 2021 Virginia loss, perhaps Democrats should focus on the broader question of what policies they must offer that will insure their

standing with the electorate in the upcoming elections. Just on the politics, the Virginia outcome suggests Democrats are not now in a good place with voters. In our next post, we’ll offer suggestions about how they might rectify that situation. 

                                      

BACK TO THE DOLLARWAY SYNDROME: A WORK IN PROGRESS

In 2019, Rob began previewing the book he’s writing about what he calls “The Dollarway Syndrome” – the proclivity white Americans have for treating individual black Americans with kindness, civility, and compassion while, at the same time, supporting and espousing political and social policies that retard black progress. In this post, he relates more about how The Dollarway Syndrome works.

I’ve organized the book into three parts. The first three chapters comprise a memoir in which I relate basic facts about me and report incidents and stories that describe the Dollarway  Syndrome. These incidents and

stories mostly occurred during my time at Dollarway, the small, Pine Bluff, Arkansas high school from which I graduated in 1969. Part two explores the connection between geography and race in America and some basic human behavior concepts. It serves as a bridge between the memoir section and part three, the portion of the book in which I offer explanations for the Dollarway Syndrome, what it means in our broader racial context, and how we might minimize its negative effects. Part three connects the Dollarway Syndrome with ideas about race discrimination offered by scholars, journalists, and others who focus on racial issues.

Today, I relate part of a story from the memoir chapters that harkens back to a political campaign in which Henry, Woodson, and I all took great interest – the 1966 Arkansas governor’s race between moderate

Republican Winthrop Rockefeller and the Democratic nominee, arch segregationist state supreme court Justice Jim Johnson. Rockefeller, who won and for whom Henry later worked, vigorously courted black voters

while Johnson reportedly regularly tossed round the n-word.  The encounter I describe with one of my white classmates left a lasting impression because it shook me and represented my first experience with the duality of the Dollarway Syndrome.

Reading Partners

I arrived at Dollarway as a sophomore in 1966, attending under a freedom-of-choice desegregation plan that lets students pick their school. Only a handful of blacks (three in my class) elected Dollarway. Most remained at all-black Townsend Park High.

One of my white classmates noticed I carried around paperback books that weren’t on our English class reading list. He shared with me that he was also an avid reader and fan of the Erle Stanley Gardner Perry Mason  novels

he’d noticed me reading (the popular television series starring Raymond Burr had just ended). For several weeks, this student and I cultivated a friendship based on our mutual affinity for those novels, whispering back and forth and passing notes in study hall about the latest one we’d started reading.

I felt this student and I developed a genuine friendship based on mutual respect and trust.

Unlike other white Dollarway students, he never used racial slurs. We interacted in a way that made me feel his equal. For a few weeks, I thought of him as the best friend I had at Dollarway, white or black. That’s why I felt betrayed by what happened a little later.

A Locker Room Conversation

Besides English class, this student and I took physical education together. One day in October, with the hot gubernatorial election nearing its climax, as we dressed after gym class, he asked me, “Hey, Wiley, you think ol’ Rockefeller’s gonna win the election?”

I hesitated. Should I make known my

intensely pro-  Rockefeller views? I wondered how being honest with him would affect our friendship, since I knew many white Dollarway students favored Johnson.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know who’ll win. I know who I hope wins.”

I hung back, acknowledging the first part of his statement, but ignoring the second part. “I can’t say now who’ll win. It’s close, real close from what I hear.”

“I don’t like Rockefeller.”

My heart sank a little with his words, but I only nodded and waited for his reason. I lifted my eyebrows but remained silent in the moment.

“Johnson will be stronger,” he continued. “You know, tougher. Rockefeller seems weak to me.”

“I don’t know,” I said, buttoning my shirt,

picking up my gym bag, and moving toward the door. “I guess we’ll just have to see how it turns out.” I left before he could say more. Later, I reflected on his last words. They nagged at me.

After thinking about it a long time, really until after things white people said during the 1968 elections two years later, I realized what my reading partner probably meant. He meant ‘stronger’ and ‘tougher’ on blacks. I’ve always believed he preferred not saying that to me, given the time we’d spent together and the decency he’d shown toward me. I assume he knew talking in overt racial terms would jeopardize the friendship. For his own reasons, I imagined he didn’t want that.

Far worse instances of white people engaging in racially insensitive behavior after befriending me occurred during my Dollarway years. This one stung so much because it was the first.

This student and I remained friends for most of the rest of that school year. We drifted apart over the remaining two years of high school. The relationship was never the same after what happened in the fall of ’66. As I saw it, being for Jim Johnson and recognizing racial equality wasn’t possible. By being friends with me and supporting Johnson, was he saying it was? I’d never considered such an idea and I’m still troubled by people who’d suggest that. One thing was clear after that locker room conversation. I’d seen something I never had before. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.  

 

THE MID-TERMS: SOMETHING FOR EVERYONE?

Is the country moving from red, white, and blue to Black, Brown, Red, Yellow, and White?

People from all political persuasions could celebrate something and lament something about this week’s mid-term elections, dubbed the most important in several generations. And, they’re not over. Too-close-to-call races in Arizona and Florida, and a late November runoff in Mississippi, mean the final makeup of the United States Senate remains uncertain. Continued vote counting in California leaves the ultimate size of the Democratic majority in the House of Representatives undecided. Remaining absentee and provisional ballots, and possible court action, prevent resolution of Georgia’s historic gubernatorial race. The wild ride goes on.

Democratic Joy

Whether Democrats could flip the House got much of the pre-election attention. They did, gaining perhaps 40 seats, depending on the outcome in California where tabulation of mail-in and absentee ballots continues. Democrats picked up seven governorships, including several in the upper mid-west, where Hillary Clinton’s 2016 campaign

cratered. Of the states that touch the Great Lakes, all but two, Ohio and perpetually Republican Indiana, now have Democratic governors. Democratic chief executives will lead battleground states Wisconsin, Michigan, and Pennsylvania, likely helping the party’s 2020 presidential nominee.

Democrats can celebrate the ethnic and cultural diversity of their wining candidates. Kansas and New Mexico sent the first Native-American women to Congress. Michigan

Deb Haaland & Sharice Davids/PhotoCred: Bustle.com

   

and Minnesota elected the first Muslim congresswomen.  Massachusetts chose its first African-American U.S. Representative. New York’s 14^th district picked the youngest member of Congress ever, a 29-year old Puerto Rican from the South Bronx. Democrats elected an openly gay governor in Colorado, re-elected an openly gay U.S. Senator from Wisconsin, and re-elected an avowedly bisexual governor in Oregon.

Close doesn’t really count in politics, but Democratic hopes for the future soared because Texas senatorial candidate Beto O’Rourke took Republican Ted Cruz to the

wire, aiding Democratic state legislative victories in the process. Andrew Gillum apparently fell short of becoming the first black governor of Florida, though late tabulated votes might throw that race into a recount. In Georgia, at this writing, Stacey Abrams continues her quest to become the first African-American woman ever elected governor of an American state. These close calls provide inspiration, and roadmaps, for future Democratic wins.

Republican Success

The GOP not only held the Senate, it expanded its majority, possibly gaining three seats. Republicans ousted Democratic Senators in Missouri, Indiana, and North Dakota, all states Donald Trump won big in 2016. Trump campaigned relentlessly in those states (and in Montana, where Democrat Jon Tester barely survived). Trump also concentrated on Florida, where Gillum appears to have lost the governor’s race and Bill Nelson, the incumbent Democratic senator, trails and probably can win only through a recount. Trump’s campaigning, based mostly on fear of immigrants, held together the Republican base. Going into the 2020 election, the GOP’s dominance of small town and rural America presents the biggest obstacle for Democrats in their effort to oust Trump from the White House and recapture the Senate.

No Unmitigated Happiness

Though both parties can celebrate, both should curb their enthusiasm. Democratic failures this year make flipping the Senate in 2020 less likely, though the map looks more favorable. Democrats have a problem in senatorial races in the middle of the country (and the South) where rural areas and small towns overwhelmingly vote Republican and Democrats haven’t convinced rural and southern white voters their policies benefit them and they haven’t generated a stronger turnout in the cities. Nothing in the 2018 results suggests that problem has gone away.

In many states, Democrats faced, and did not overcome, the two – headed monster created by the disaster of the 2010 mid-terms – gerrymandering and voter suppression. Democrats may win the popular vote in this year’s House races by six to eight points, depending on the California totals. Except for gerrymandering perpetuated by Republican governors and state legislatures, many elected in the 2010 mid-terms, such a popular vote victory might have yielded 60 House seats, not the currently projected 40. Voter suppression, the other legacy of the 2010 elections, remains a problem, limiting the black vote in southern and mid-western states, and keeping Latinos from being a bigger factor in Texas, the West, and Florida. 

Republicans shouldn’t jump for joy either. Despite keeping the Senate, they lost their advantage in the upper mid-west because of defeats in gubernatorial races there. More broadly, with health care, Democrats found an issue for which Republicans seemingly have no answer, at least not one that satisfies both their donor class and citizens clamoring for expanded coverage and protection for pre-existing conditions.

High turnout of young voters (who favored Democrats by 35 points), the GOP’s perpetual problem with blacks, a Democratic trend in the fast growing Asian-American demographic, and continued erosion of Republican support from white women (who split 49-49 in House races this year, while having voted 55-43 for GOP House candidates in 2016) cannot encourage Republicans thinking about the future. Things may appear fine now with Trump and his base firmly in control. But a day of reckoning is coming for the GOP when changing demographics overwhelm the party, even in southern states. The razor thin wins in Florida and (possibly) Georgia might not happen in four years.

The lesson for both sides from the 2018 mid-terms: Offer leadership to more, not fewer citizens.