The Republican Party has a lot of problems, and if there’s one that doesn’t get enough attention, it’s the party’s broad appeal to provocateurs, faux martyrs, and grifters. Just look at the speakers list for the Republican Leadership Conference, which began on Thursday. There’s Donald Trump, the man who made “birtherism” a national cause; Herman Cain, whose presidential run was a glorified book tour; Dinesh D’Souza, who just pleaded guilty to a felony campaign finance violation, and Phil Robertson, the Duck Dynasty star who—like Cliven Bundy—believes black Americans were better off under racist oppression.
JAMELLE BOUIEIn fairness, I’m sure Robertson despises slavery. (Bundy, by contrast, wondered if blacks weren’t “better off as slaves, picking cotton and having a family life and doing things.”) He just thinks it wasn’t so bad under Jim Crow. “I never, with my eyes, saw the mistreatment of any black person,” said Robertson, discussing his childhood in Louisiana. “The blacks worked for the farmers. I hoed cotton with them. I’m with the blacks, because we’re white trash. We’re going across the field. … They’re singing and happy.”
But whereas Bundy was condemned by every Republican under the sun— “Bundy’s comments are completely beyond the pale,” said Reince Priebus, chairman of the Republican National Committee—Robertson became a conservative hero. Of course, the main difference is that Robertson got in trouble for his views on gays. “Start with homosexual behavior and just morph out from there. Bestiality, sleeping around with this woman and that woman and that woman and those men,” he said.
On the right, this language isn’t beyond the pale. Or at least, it’s seen as a matter of religious expression, not bigotry. As such, conservatives defended Robertson as a victim of political correctness and religious intolerance. At National Review, Mark Steyn compared anti-Robertson activists to Soviet totalitarians: “Everything must be gayed. There must be Five-Year Gay Plans for American bakeries, and the Christian church, and reality TV.” Louisiana Rep. Vance McAllister brought one of Robertson’s sons to the State of the Union. At this year’s Conservative Political Action Conference, Robertson was celebrated and Sarah Palin canonized him for conservative America. “His fight was our fight and we pushed back and we won. And now everyone is happy, happy, happy,” she said.
If all of this sat in equal proportion to serious policymaking, it wouldn’t be a big deal. Annoying for liberals, but not a cause for concern. Unfortunately, in our world, the energy of the conservative movement—and thus the Republican Party—is geared toward these people. If you want money and attention, you could do worse than become a conservative provocateur. Right-wing resentment—stoked by impossible promises and harnessed through donations—built a fortune for Glenn Beck, a political career for Texas Sen. Ted Cruz, and a burgeoning media empire for the late Andrew Breitbart.
Even if you think these lawmakers and activists are sincere—and I do—it’s hard not to see the whole operation as a perpetual swindle. Take the Affordable Care Act. With the re-election of President Obama, odds of repeal were slim-to-none. But rather than abandon the call for Obamacare repeal, conservative groups—and their allies in Congress—pushed further. Not because they thought it could happen, but because it was lucrative. As Robert Costa described for National Review at the time, “Business has boomed since the push to defund Obamacare caught on. Conservative activists are lighting up social media, donations are pouring in, and e-mail lists are growing.”
Republican Leadership Conference: The GOP’s speakers lineup is a problem.
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