. . . The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
--"As You Like It," Act II, Scene 7
WITH THE INSTALLATION of Howard Dean as Democratic party chairman, modern American liberalism enters its dotage. As Jaques says in As You Like It, this age resembles "second childishness and mere oblivion." In Dean, we see the last bloom of baby boom liberalism, reverting to its 1960s type, but "sans taste, sans everything"--including a sense of the moment. Today's liberals are too mired in their childhood traumas to focus on what is their party's main chance: domestic issues surrounding middle-class concerns in an era of social and economic instability, the rising challenge posed by China and India, and the cloudy prospects facing the next generation. These problems point to the failings of the political status quo; constant reminders of this failure include the nation's creaking infrastructure, dysfunctional educational system, and ever-expanding trade and balance of payments deficits. These phenomena represent a threat to continued American preeminence. Rising to meet the challenge would seem perfectly natural to a nationalist progressive of the last century: a Theodore Roosevelt, Al Smith, Fiorello LaGuardia, Franklin Roosevelt, or Hubert Humphrey. Such men would have risen
to the challenge with something akin to martial virtue. FDR, in his first inaugural, compared the challenge of the Depression to "every stress of vast expansion of territory, of foreign wars, of bitter internal strife, of world relations." He called not for self-pity, weakness, or redress, but for the "frankness" and "vigor" that he considered "essential to victory. "
The senile liberalism speaking through today's Democratic party--in "childish treble, pipes and whistles in his sound"--shares none of this robust patriotism. The Vietnam-era orientation of its baby boom elite reeks of ambivalence about a strong America. Even the best of contemporary liberals dare not speak in the harsh, uncompromising terms of national power or security but only appeal to abstract ideals.
Arguments about Wilsonian idealism among the Washington-pundit wing of the Democratic party--while more attractive than Deaniac isolationism--will not rally middle-class voters. A far better approach would be to support a strong American military but with the understanding that, for the foreseeable future, defense and security will not constitute the party's strongest suit.
Domestic issues provide far more fertile ground for Democrats. The vast majority of Americans, according to the most recent Wall Street Journal poll, want their government to concentrate on domestic issues rather than foreign concerns. It is here where the Republicans, and the conservative movement in general, are most vulnerable.
THE BROADEST AREA of opportunity for Democrats lies in a series of domestic issues that, for reasons ranging from ideology to class interest, Republicans are ill-suited to tackle with passion or skill. These revolve around factors affecting America's global competitiveness, both as an economic and technological power, in the new century.
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