Matt Yglesias observed earlier this week that Sarah Palin tends to do fine in situations where she can pivot from the question to her own talking points and a cobweb of faux-folksy generalities. She does poorly when the questioner tries to get her to answer the original question. Katie Couric did this. Gwen Ifil didn't. So Sarah Palin got to respond to a question on Bush's Israel policy by chiding Joe Biden for talking about George Bush. She got to answer the gay rights question by talking about her gay friends - though she couldn't bring herself to say the words. She got to handle the economic questions by rhapsodizing about her pretend middle class lifestyle (she must agree with John McCain's definition of low-seven-figures income as middle class).
Watching tonight's debate should make it clear for anyone who wondered why the McCain campaign wanted so badly to limit the time each candidate got to talk and the time they got to interact with each other. Palin had shown in the past that she could do a fine job with rules like this; it's unfortunate that the competent job she did tonight will draw attention away from the ways she's embarrassed herself over the past couple weeks. Overall, she came off as more polished tonight, but Biden clearly knew better what he was talking about. Biden let himself get somewhat frustrated and flustered, but I think he managed to stay within the lines imposed on him not to sound mean to Palin, and the moments where he vented some of that frustration ("John is no maverick on the issues that people sit around the kitchen table worrying about") were his best.
Dahlia Lithwick notes the mendacity of choice language on abortion from anti-choice politicians like McCain and Palin:
In announcing that her 17-year-old daughter was pregnant last week, GOP vice presidential hopeful Sarah Palin used this puzzling locution: "We're proud of Bristol's decision to have her baby." Pundits were quick to point out that Bristol's "decision" must have been at least somewhat constrained by her mom's position--as articulated in November 2006--that she would oppose an abortion for her daughters, even if they had been raped...So what exactly, one wonders, was young Bristol permitted to decide?
These rhetorical somersaults are, as Lithwick notes, the same ones John McCain employed in talking about a hypothetical Meghan McCain pregnancy eight years ago. There's no mystery here: Americans like choice more than they like abortion. Republicans know this, so they dress up their hard-line anti-choice positions as though they were just about choosing against abortion, while never conceding that there should be a choice at all (in my college days the student anti-choice group was called Choose Life At Yale; they published an ad comparing voting for John Kerry - who also advocates choosing life but is pro-choice - to voting for Jefferson Davis). And the media too often plays along, as when the New York Times profiled women in an abortion clinic making painful choices that weighed medical, religious, economic, and social factors; the Times held up these women, who were doing exactly what the pro-choice movement defends women's right to do, as representing a middle ground in the abortion debate.
I'd add that watching Palin's gymnastics on choice is probably the most interesting part of the 2006 gubernatorial debate re-aired on C-SPAN over the weekend. For someone who wants the government to criminalize a woman's choices about her future, Sarah Palin's rhetoric is awfully "personal." She answers the first question on choice - about whether as a public official she would attend a public event to publicly support legislation banning abortion - by saying that she's pro-life and "I don't try to hide it and I'm not ashamed of it." When asked whether a rape victim should be able to choose abortion, she objects that it wouldn't "be up to me as an individual" whether that woman was forced to carry the fetus for nine months - leaving unsaid that if she had her way, it wouldn't be up to the woman as an individual either. But Palin makes clear that she'd force the rape victim to carry the fetus by specifying only the life of the mother as acceptable grounds for abortion. Then she answers the follow-up question by saying rape is "a very private matter also, but personally, I would choose life." The hypocrisy here is glaring: if Sarah Palin indeed wants that woman's choice to be private, she should oppose government outlawing it. But she doesn't.
So it should come as no surprise a minute later when she addresses euthanasia with the same rhetorical sleight of hand: "This is a very personal and private and sensitive issue and I do respect others' opinions on it, but personally I do believe that no, government should not be sanctioning or assisting taking life."
The dissidents' proposals represent a blue-print with at least the potential to bring real change to a federation in deep need of it. It's a shame that a leader like John Wilhelm won't get a shot at implementing it within the AFL-CIO structure, at least for now. Hopefully, even now that he's secured the votes to guarantee re-election, John Sweeney will continue to feel and respond to the pressure to build a federation which leads its member unions to revived power by prioritizing aggressive organizing facilitating effective cooperation, and encouraging tactics which work.
The AFL-CIO, unfortunately, has not been working for a long time, in part because too often its approach has looked more like the narrow approach of the old AFL than the agressive broad-based approach of the CIO. There's plenty to fear about a potential breakaway from the federation. The kind of union raiding which the reformers have identified as a challenge to labor's effectiveness could become uglier were some or all of these unions to move outside of the structure of the AFL-CIO. And the red-baiting and purging of early post-war period can be pinned in part on the division between the AFL and the CIO. But that said, the same competition between the federations also sparked a great deal of tremendous organizing which, if not for the CIO's existence as an independent organization, might very well never have taken place. Unions like SEIU and UNITE HERE have a model which is working, though certainly imperfectly, and it's a model which has has achieved some impressive successes despite the failure of the federation to effectively serve the functions they've rightfully called for it to execute. If pulling out means a renewed ability to marshall resources for maximum efficacy in organizing, to build stronger coalitions with other progressive organizations with shared worldview, to more effectively hold politicians accountable (good cop, bad cop, et al), and to press the AFL-CIO from the outside to reform, it could be more than worthwhile.
The narrow lense through which this has all been read in the Times and Post and such, unfortunately, is "Labor = Democratic Turnout Machine" and ergo "Division in labor = peril for Democrats." This slant is both short-sighted and wrong-headed. What the Democratic party needs, and should be doing much more to foster, is a reversal of the decline in American union membership. Any change that leads to more effective organizing broadens the Democratic constituency. Internal debate about how to make that happen is certainly healthy; if a split is effective in making union membership a reality for the millions of Americans who want it, then that spells great things for the Democratic party. If it can't accomplish that, then it's already a terrible move. But there's no reason to assume that two federations would be fatally less effective at political turnout than one. The Democratic politicians who really have a reason to be afraid are the ones coasting on their partisan affiliation without keeping promises to American workers. If these newspapers are committed to assessing what a split would mean for the Democratic party, first they'll need to engage the conversation on what it means for the labor movement.