Paul Jenkins: Along Came Caroline. And Andrew. And Beau.
[Born in London and raised in Geneva, Paul Jenkins studied international relations and political science in Switzerland, while working as a journalist at news agency AFP. ]
Speculation about Hillary Clinton's successor in the Senate will soon be moot, but the debate about America's political dynasties is hopefully just starting. This year's newly open Senate seats were particularly revealing, with the leading contenders in New York, Delaware, Colorado and Illinois all including the kin of prominent politicians.
This is nothing new: as recently as 2000, the presidential election offered the choice between the son of a former president and grandson of a Senator, George W. Bush, and the son of a Senator, Al Gore. And, of course, long before that, the Adams' had been the first father and son US presidents. But rather than disappearing as one would expect in a more mature, diverse democracy, the habit seems to be intensifying.
For all the commotion around Caroline Kennedy's credentials, she is hardly the first, the last, or the only, member of an American political dynasty to be hand picked for a plum job. Have we already forgotten that, had everything gone according to plan, Hillary Clinton would be sworn in as President in a couple of weeks? And that although she, who had never run for political office anywhere, had the decks cleared for her in New York state's 2000 primary? She did have to face a Republican in the general election (actually, two Republicans, as Rudy Giuliani dropped out), but in one of the most Democratic states in the country, that was unlikely to be an impossible hurdle.
By most standards, Clinton has been an able or even outstanding Senator, and hopefully will be a great Secretary of State, but her electoral credentials in 2000 were non-existent, and her political ones limited to her proximity to the outgoing President, and to the access that provided. In that respect Kennedy is not unlike Clinton, and is certainly no less qualified, if slightly less articulate.
There has been less focus on two other political scions positioning themselves for the Senate: Andrew Cuomo and Beau Biden, both Attorney Generals in their respective states of New York and Delaware. Both owe their careers to their fathers, Mario Cuomo, former governor, and Joe Biden, future vice president. Both are somehow given a pass because they have been elected (once each, in 2006), and because, in the case of Biden, his father arranged for his 70 year-old chief-of-staff, Ted Kaufman, to be a caretaker for a couple of years; few doubt the 2010 Democratic primary in Delaware will feature anyone other than Beau. You would think that even in a state as small as Delaware, there would be at least one other qualified person who is not the son of a Biden, or has not worked for a Biden. But perhaps not.
Before the Illinois Senate replacement "process" turned into such a mess, one of the front-runners for the nomination to Barack Obama's seat was Jesse Jackson Jr. Of all the names quoted heretofore he was perhaps the most qualified, having served in the House for 13 years. Nonetheless, he too owes his position to his father: it is unlikely that a 30-year-old unknown, no matter how talented, would have comfortably won the special congressional election free-for-all that launched his electoral career in 1995. In any event, it appears that at least in the Senate, dynastic rules don't apply to African-Americans: Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid does not want Jackson in the US Senate, under the reasoning that he is less likely to win statewide in 2010 than a white candidate (this in a state that has elected the only two black Democratic Senators since Reconstruction).
In Colorado, Gov. Bill Ritter surprised everyone by picking Michael Bennet to succeed Sen. Ken Salazar, appointed Secretary of the Interior. The presumed front runner there had been two-term Congressman John Salazar, Ken's older brother.
While filling seats vacated by Cabinet nominees and indicted politicians is a favorite of the dynastically inclined, regular elections are not immune to the phenomenon. This year's Senate races saw the victory of not one but two Udalls, Mark and Tom, respectively son and nephew of the late Arizona Democratic Congressman Mo Udall. A third cousin, incumbent Senator Gordon Smith, narrowly lost in Oregon.
Beyond this year's crop, the Senate is rife with legacies that span geography, gender and party. Some are truly sordid, such as GOP Alaska Sen. Lisa Murkowski's succession to her father's seat: he arranged for the timing of his resignation to allow him, newly elected governor, to name the new Senator, who happened to be his daughter. Others are more humdrum, such as Democratic Arkansas Sen. Mark Pryor, dumb as a doornail, who succeeded his father David, a formerly well-respected pillar of the Senate. Some have been in the Senate for so long, that it is easy to forget they got a jumpstart in life thanks, usually, to their fathers. Connecticut Senator Chris Dodd, for instance, is the son of, well, Connecticut Senator Thomas Dodd. Indiana Senator Evan Bayh is the son of Indiana Senator Birch Bayh. Etc, etc.
Taken individually, these cases do not always appear as egregious as, say, the Murkowski saga, or as depressing as the Pryor succession. But it is in the aggregate that the dynastic nature of American politics is most striking. One in six Senators, for instance, is closely related by birth or marriage to Presidents, Congressmen, Governors or Cabinet members; this proportion has doubled in the past 20 years. The numbers are even starker among Democrats: fully 20% of the incoming Senate Democrats are connected in this way. For these families, politics is a business, and elected office is family property, usually under the guise of continuing a proud history of public service. We have come to accept this situation for a variety of reasons: we are starstruck, we fall for the family brand appeal without realizing it, we assume the relative is as strong as the original and that their connections will benefit their constituency, the force of an entire family political apparatus is too strong to withstand, we are too lazy to properly research other candidates. The phenomenon bears eerie resemblances to the brand extensions prized by marketers: the investment in using the same brand for a variety of products, usually with some qualifier (Crest Whitening with Cinnamon! Kahlua ice-cream!), is far lower than having to launch a whole new name and logo. With Kennedy, Clinton, Biden or Cuomo on the ballot, there is really little more to explain or sell. You would think this should work in reverse, for example that any Bush is now doomed to make a living in private enterprise. But no: Jeb Bush is an early favorite for the Florida Senate seat opening up in 2010.
Whatever the reason for which we keep electing sons and daughters of the politically famous, the result is the same: a growing number of elected officials owe their positions to family connections. The fact that this sounds self-evident, even naive, is a testament to how inured we have become to nepotism. This may be an extension of the broader American acceptance of extreme income inequality and weakening social mobility. We assume that the rich and famous, political or otherwise, have such a leg up that it is not even worth questioning the premise of their power to openly control the political process.
That Democrats are the guiltiest of this, at least in the Senate, is shameful. Of course, many of us happily cooperate: for instance, we like Joe Biden and we are hopeful that he will be a good vice president, but this does not mean we cannot criticize his bold-faced move to bequeath his Senate seat to his son. The older Biden is surely not the best-equipped person to decide whether his own progeny is able or not to succeed him. In the best case scenario, he only wants what's best for Beau, not an unnatural sentiment; in the worst case, though, he is arrogantly treating Delaware as his own political and personal fiefdom.
The alternative, of course, is not to turn to wealthy candidates, another growing trend. The net worth of a Senator now stands at $1.7 million, 2000% of the average net worth in the United States. There are 62 Senators with a net worth of $1 million or more, out of 100, versus 15 in 1988. Only 3% of Americans are worth more than $1 million. Half a dozen Senators are probably worth over $100 million, all of them Democrats. Caroline Kennedy, were she to be named to the New York seat, would join this latter group, which also includes her uncle Ted.
There is nothing inherently wrong, in what is after all a capitalist society, with being rich, famous, or well connected. However, when nearly half of all Senators are either political legacies, or worth over $10 million, or both, the time has come to put a little more thought into whom we elect and why. Either that, or the time has come to stop complaining that economic, social and foreign policies are completely aligned with the interest of the tiniest of minorities: those who are rich, famous or well connected.
There is, however, a glimmer of hope in these depressing statistics. In recent times of economic upheaval, the country has turned to chief executives who, besides not being Bushes, are political self-made animals, from modest, single-parent households whose net worth was more likely to be negative than positive. Yes, Bill Clinton has grown fabulously wealthy thanks to politics, and Obama will no doubt too, but at least we will be able to look back at both men's early time in office and say that, for a brief shining moment, they could relate.
Read entire article at Huffington Post (Blog)
Speculation about Hillary Clinton's successor in the Senate will soon be moot, but the debate about America's political dynasties is hopefully just starting. This year's newly open Senate seats were particularly revealing, with the leading contenders in New York, Delaware, Colorado and Illinois all including the kin of prominent politicians.
This is nothing new: as recently as 2000, the presidential election offered the choice between the son of a former president and grandson of a Senator, George W. Bush, and the son of a Senator, Al Gore. And, of course, long before that, the Adams' had been the first father and son US presidents. But rather than disappearing as one would expect in a more mature, diverse democracy, the habit seems to be intensifying.
For all the commotion around Caroline Kennedy's credentials, she is hardly the first, the last, or the only, member of an American political dynasty to be hand picked for a plum job. Have we already forgotten that, had everything gone according to plan, Hillary Clinton would be sworn in as President in a couple of weeks? And that although she, who had never run for political office anywhere, had the decks cleared for her in New York state's 2000 primary? She did have to face a Republican in the general election (actually, two Republicans, as Rudy Giuliani dropped out), but in one of the most Democratic states in the country, that was unlikely to be an impossible hurdle.
By most standards, Clinton has been an able or even outstanding Senator, and hopefully will be a great Secretary of State, but her electoral credentials in 2000 were non-existent, and her political ones limited to her proximity to the outgoing President, and to the access that provided. In that respect Kennedy is not unlike Clinton, and is certainly no less qualified, if slightly less articulate.
There has been less focus on two other political scions positioning themselves for the Senate: Andrew Cuomo and Beau Biden, both Attorney Generals in their respective states of New York and Delaware. Both owe their careers to their fathers, Mario Cuomo, former governor, and Joe Biden, future vice president. Both are somehow given a pass because they have been elected (once each, in 2006), and because, in the case of Biden, his father arranged for his 70 year-old chief-of-staff, Ted Kaufman, to be a caretaker for a couple of years; few doubt the 2010 Democratic primary in Delaware will feature anyone other than Beau. You would think that even in a state as small as Delaware, there would be at least one other qualified person who is not the son of a Biden, or has not worked for a Biden. But perhaps not.
Before the Illinois Senate replacement "process" turned into such a mess, one of the front-runners for the nomination to Barack Obama's seat was Jesse Jackson Jr. Of all the names quoted heretofore he was perhaps the most qualified, having served in the House for 13 years. Nonetheless, he too owes his position to his father: it is unlikely that a 30-year-old unknown, no matter how talented, would have comfortably won the special congressional election free-for-all that launched his electoral career in 1995. In any event, it appears that at least in the Senate, dynastic rules don't apply to African-Americans: Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid does not want Jackson in the US Senate, under the reasoning that he is less likely to win statewide in 2010 than a white candidate (this in a state that has elected the only two black Democratic Senators since Reconstruction).
In Colorado, Gov. Bill Ritter surprised everyone by picking Michael Bennet to succeed Sen. Ken Salazar, appointed Secretary of the Interior. The presumed front runner there had been two-term Congressman John Salazar, Ken's older brother.
While filling seats vacated by Cabinet nominees and indicted politicians is a favorite of the dynastically inclined, regular elections are not immune to the phenomenon. This year's Senate races saw the victory of not one but two Udalls, Mark and Tom, respectively son and nephew of the late Arizona Democratic Congressman Mo Udall. A third cousin, incumbent Senator Gordon Smith, narrowly lost in Oregon.
Beyond this year's crop, the Senate is rife with legacies that span geography, gender and party. Some are truly sordid, such as GOP Alaska Sen. Lisa Murkowski's succession to her father's seat: he arranged for the timing of his resignation to allow him, newly elected governor, to name the new Senator, who happened to be his daughter. Others are more humdrum, such as Democratic Arkansas Sen. Mark Pryor, dumb as a doornail, who succeeded his father David, a formerly well-respected pillar of the Senate. Some have been in the Senate for so long, that it is easy to forget they got a jumpstart in life thanks, usually, to their fathers. Connecticut Senator Chris Dodd, for instance, is the son of, well, Connecticut Senator Thomas Dodd. Indiana Senator Evan Bayh is the son of Indiana Senator Birch Bayh. Etc, etc.
Taken individually, these cases do not always appear as egregious as, say, the Murkowski saga, or as depressing as the Pryor succession. But it is in the aggregate that the dynastic nature of American politics is most striking. One in six Senators, for instance, is closely related by birth or marriage to Presidents, Congressmen, Governors or Cabinet members; this proportion has doubled in the past 20 years. The numbers are even starker among Democrats: fully 20% of the incoming Senate Democrats are connected in this way. For these families, politics is a business, and elected office is family property, usually under the guise of continuing a proud history of public service. We have come to accept this situation for a variety of reasons: we are starstruck, we fall for the family brand appeal without realizing it, we assume the relative is as strong as the original and that their connections will benefit their constituency, the force of an entire family political apparatus is too strong to withstand, we are too lazy to properly research other candidates. The phenomenon bears eerie resemblances to the brand extensions prized by marketers: the investment in using the same brand for a variety of products, usually with some qualifier (Crest Whitening with Cinnamon! Kahlua ice-cream!), is far lower than having to launch a whole new name and logo. With Kennedy, Clinton, Biden or Cuomo on the ballot, there is really little more to explain or sell. You would think this should work in reverse, for example that any Bush is now doomed to make a living in private enterprise. But no: Jeb Bush is an early favorite for the Florida Senate seat opening up in 2010.
Whatever the reason for which we keep electing sons and daughters of the politically famous, the result is the same: a growing number of elected officials owe their positions to family connections. The fact that this sounds self-evident, even naive, is a testament to how inured we have become to nepotism. This may be an extension of the broader American acceptance of extreme income inequality and weakening social mobility. We assume that the rich and famous, political or otherwise, have such a leg up that it is not even worth questioning the premise of their power to openly control the political process.
That Democrats are the guiltiest of this, at least in the Senate, is shameful. Of course, many of us happily cooperate: for instance, we like Joe Biden and we are hopeful that he will be a good vice president, but this does not mean we cannot criticize his bold-faced move to bequeath his Senate seat to his son. The older Biden is surely not the best-equipped person to decide whether his own progeny is able or not to succeed him. In the best case scenario, he only wants what's best for Beau, not an unnatural sentiment; in the worst case, though, he is arrogantly treating Delaware as his own political and personal fiefdom.
The alternative, of course, is not to turn to wealthy candidates, another growing trend. The net worth of a Senator now stands at $1.7 million, 2000% of the average net worth in the United States. There are 62 Senators with a net worth of $1 million or more, out of 100, versus 15 in 1988. Only 3% of Americans are worth more than $1 million. Half a dozen Senators are probably worth over $100 million, all of them Democrats. Caroline Kennedy, were she to be named to the New York seat, would join this latter group, which also includes her uncle Ted.
There is nothing inherently wrong, in what is after all a capitalist society, with being rich, famous, or well connected. However, when nearly half of all Senators are either political legacies, or worth over $10 million, or both, the time has come to put a little more thought into whom we elect and why. Either that, or the time has come to stop complaining that economic, social and foreign policies are completely aligned with the interest of the tiniest of minorities: those who are rich, famous or well connected.
There is, however, a glimmer of hope in these depressing statistics. In recent times of economic upheaval, the country has turned to chief executives who, besides not being Bushes, are political self-made animals, from modest, single-parent households whose net worth was more likely to be negative than positive. Yes, Bill Clinton has grown fabulously wealthy thanks to politics, and Obama will no doubt too, but at least we will be able to look back at both men's early time in office and say that, for a brief shining moment, they could relate.