Opinion
A man's perspective on why engagement rings are a joke
A diamond is forever' is genius marketing with no basis in relationship reality. My love isn't proportional to a ring size
Most of us are adult enough to know magic doesn't exist. And yet we're the same species that thinks fat rings are fairy-tale items which somehow "secure" another person's love, one step away from a "happily ever after".
They're expensive, useless and, worse, are insulting to notions of actual love. As anyone who's been in a serious long-term relationship knows, you don't need geology to proclaim (let alone justify) said love.
Before you take me for a cheapskate who just doesn't want to spend the money on a ring, let me explain a bit more. Many of us, especially men, have strapped our feet to the commercialised notions of what constitutes relationships. We've turned into zombies, hungry for all things red and supposedly lovey dovey. We buy into the baffling displays of romance like the nauseating crimson heart-shaped horror show we call Valentine's Day. Or the flowers and boxed chocolates we're supposed to deliver on anniversaries to celebrate monogamous tolerance and the disbelief you haven't murdered each other.
We speed through our finances and morals, enjoying the exhilaration of fitting in to societal expectation, as opposed to reflecting on whether our actions are warranted or justified. And our partners seem all too ready to go along with it.
Engagement rings – specifically expensive diamond ones – are often prime examples of this unthinking mindset. The problem isn't the rings themselves, but the justifications – or the lack of justifications – behind their acquisition.
We mustn't confuse engagement rings – given, usually to a woman, when a proposal is accepted – and wedding rings – given on wedding day. (Already, we should recognise how strange it is to need two different kinds of rings.)
Whatever the long history of engagement items – I've heard claims of it dating from ancient Egypt or Rome, for example – the focus on engagement rings should really start with De Beers, in the 20th century.
After large diamond mines were discovered here in South Africa around 1870, the mines' major investors amalgamated their interests to form De Beers Consolidates Mines. They recognised that due to diamonds having little intrinsic value, they would need to create demand via (the illusion of) scarcity and pretend worth. So began one of the most successful marketing and public manipulation campaigns of the 20th century, originating from four words: "A diamond is forever".
By convincing men their love for their future wife is directly proportional to the expense of the diamond ring, and convincing women to expect love in the form of shiny stone, De Beers and their marketers, NW Ayer, began a tradition so embedded we forget it's a marketing ploy. Genius marketing, to be sure, but marketing nonetheless.
And guess what? The prices keep going up, as if we are really loving more and deeper these days. According to the XO Group Inc 2011 Engagement Engagement & Jewelry survey, the average engagement ring cost $5,200. If you think that's bad, consider that nearly 12% of US couples spend more than $8,000 for an engagement ring. Of course, we should take such stats with some measure of scepticism, as Will Oremus highlights. Nonetheless, these are the prices at a time when the average American family earns less than it did in 1989.
The American bias of these stats shouldn't negate the overall point: diamonds – and therefore diamond rings – are expensive and the demand was created artificially for an item that's only property here is shininess (it decreases in value as soon as you walk out the store).
Any remotely logical person can see that spending several thousand on actually important items for a new couple like a place to live or putting money in an investment account will serve them far better in the future (and likely help with romantic and/or wedded bliss).
That engagement ring purchases tend to be for women – not by women – is also insulting to the cause of not viewing women as objects to be acquired. Consider that this is worthy of a headline in a respected US magazine at the beginning of this month: "Women Now Paying for Their Own Engagement Rings".
Many people will say that engagement rings are symbolic of love and devotion. Ignoring that this idea is itself manufactured by the profiting businesses, it also gives an arbitrary definition of "symbol": why can't a beautiful home be a symbol? Why can't long-term investments be a symbol? Indeed, would it not be more impressive to show off a house than a finger rock?
Tradition is another assertion when discussing almost anything to do with monogamy and marriage. But, like nature, tradition is a description not moral justification. Just because we've always done a particular action, doesn't mean it's always (or ever was) justified. Pointing to tradition means pointing to the mistreatment of different races and sexes, human sacrifices, and so on. Longevity, too, doesn't give moral immunity, or automatic goodness, to anything.
Engagement rings aren't even used to show one is married: they're used before the wedding even occurs. Indeed, even helping avoid awkward social encounters isn't aided, since there are other (and cheaper) ways of showing you're "in a relatinship" (not to mention just telling people trying to hit on you).
If you need a ring to prove your love, it's not your lack of a ring that's the problem.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News and Media 2013
Want to end corporate welfare for McDonald's? Raise the minimum wage
You've got to feel for McDonald's. Every time the misunderstood corporation tries to offer its' low-wage employees a hand, it backfires. First the fast food giant was ridiculed this past summer for dispensing helpful budgetary advice to its struggling workers (in a nutshell: get another job). Now the company is in hot water again after a recorded call to its' McResource helpline, in which an employee who reported not being able to make ends meet was advised to sign up for food stamps and other government assistance programs, went viral online. Strangely though, the very people who ought to be most upset about this state of affairs – small government loving republicans who don't want anyone relying on federal assistance for anything – have raised little or no objection.
When Nancy Salgado, the employee at the center of this latest storm, called the McResource line to tell them she was having to ration food and couldn't take her kids to the doctor, the helpful employee on the other end of the line didn't offer to raise her wages or sign her up for health benefits, but advised her instead about the various federal government programs she could avail of. While it's not news that hugely profitable corporations like McDonald's are only too happy to rely on the American taxpayer to subsidize the non-living wages they pay their workers, (Salgado earns $8.25 an hour) the blasé nature of the phone call still sparked considerable outrage, but not from budget conscious Republicans.
Perhaps I'm being unreasonable, but it seems to me that when Republicans are so vocal about how much they hate government programs like SNAP benefits (aka food stamps) and Medicaid and indeed anything that makes life a little more feasible for low-income or no-income Americans, they should surely be able to work up a small sweat at such a blatant example of the system being gamed. Just last month congressional Republicans voted unanimously to cut $39bn from the food stamp program, and I surely don't have to waste words here outlining their opposition to any form of government subsidized healthcare. Why then, when they have made their objection to welfare programs abundantly clear are they seemingly okay with hugely profitable corporations exploiting these programs while they underpay their workers?
McDonald's have tried to do damage control on the phone call, claiming that the recording was "not an accurate portrayal of the resource line" because it was "very obviously" edited. The full 14-minute version of the call was provided to numerous medial outlets, however, and the facts remain unchanged: Salgado was told to seek out government assistance instead of being given a raise.
It doesn't help McDonald's case either that just a week or so before the phone call, the UC Berkeley Labor Center and the University of Illinois released a joint study on the public cost of low-wage fast food jobs. They found that 52% of the families of front line fast food workers are enrolled in one or more public assistance program compared to 25% of the workforce as a whole. Overall, subsidizing the wages and benefits of employees of highly profitable fast food chains costs the American taxpayer nearly $7bn per year.
The seeming indifference to this giant corporate welfare program that low wage employers like McDonald's and most of its' competitors in the fast food world are happy to avail of might be easier to understand if the companies were struggling but the opposite is true. McDonald's 2012 annual report(pdf) was a glowing affair – in which the company enthusiastically announced a 3.1% growth in global sales, a 5% earnings per share growth, worldwide expansion plans and billions in profit. Does a company this healthy (I use the term lightly) really need federally funded public assistance programs to stay in business? Hardly, but that doesn't seem to bother the very people who generally loathe any kind of handout.
If congressional Republicans are serious about their claim that cutting government spending is their highest priority, why are they so indifferent to this flagrant abuse of federally funded benefits? The reason can only be that if they were to raise serious objections to what is effectively a corporate welfare program for the fast food industry, they might be forced to do something that would be an even bigger violation of conservative principles – raise the minimum wage.
Since 2009, the federal minimum wage has been stuck at $7.25 an hour for non exempt employees, a figure so low that it doesn't qualify as a living wage in any state. Even Republicans acknowledge that it's simply impossible to cover basic living costs with wages this low, yet they voted unanimously earlier this year against a modest increase to $9 an hour. It seems that conservatives would rather demonize low-wage workers and find ways to blame them for their poverty instead of facing up to the fact that the only way to not be poor is to be paid more.
So for now we are stuck with a situation where one set of American workers has to subsidize the wages and benefits of another set of workers just so that certain corporations can keep their low end labor costs down and their profits way up. Fast food workers have actually come up with the most feasible way out of this unsustainable situation. They are asking their employers to raise their wages to $15 an hour, up from the average of $8 an hour. Needless to say McDonald's and their fast food counterparts will happily stick to the cozy arrangement they have going as long as their enablers in congress allow them to. They may soon find, however, that the American taxpayer is not quite so easily played.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News and Media 2013
[Image via Tomasz Bidermann / Shutterstock.com]
No, people who choose to write on the Internet for free are not 'slaves'
For the sake of humor, I am generally a big fan of hyperbole. Miley Cyrus is cheaper than a half-off sale at the flea market. The Chicago Cubs are more futile than a company that builds igloos in Hell. See? When you're trying to be funny, hyperbole…
["Young Indonesian Woman Sitting On The Couch And Using A Laptop For The Internet" on Shutterstock]
Book Review: 'I Am Malala' by Malala Yousafzai
In Arabic, "revolution" is a feminine noun. This is fitting, as without women revolutions are sterile. They have no movement, no life, no sound. Urdu, a distorter of tongues, pilfering as it does from Persian, Hindi, but largely Arabic, uses the masculine word for coup d'etat – inqilab – for revolution, rather than the accurate feminine: thawra. Perhaps that's why the Taliban were confused. Perhaps that's why they imagined that shooting a 15-year-old girl would somehow enhance their revolution.
I Am Malala, Malala Yousafzai's fearless memoir, co-written with journalist Christina Lamb, begins on Malala's drive home from school on the day she was shot in the head. "Who is Malala?" the young gunman who stopped the Khushal school van asked. None of the girls answered. But everyone in the valley knew who Malala was. Ten years old when the Tehrik-e-Taliban Pakistan came to the beautiful Swat Valley, once the home of ancient Buddhist kings, 11 years old by the time she had established herself as an international advocate for girls' education in Pakistan, Malala was targeted by the Taliban for "spreading secularism".
Ghostwritten books pose a constant difficulty – you are never sure whose voice is leading whose. Malala's voice has the purity, but also the rigidity, of the principled. Whether she is being a competitive teenager and keeping track of who she beat in exams (and by how much) or writing about the blog for the BBC that catapulted her on to the international stage – "We were learning how to struggle. And we were learning how powerful we are when we speak" – or talking about Pakistan's politicians ("useless"), Malala is passionate and intense. Her faith and her duty to the cause of girls' education is unquestionable, her adoration for her father – her role model and comrade in arms – is moving and her pain at the violence carried out in the name of Islam palpable.
It's hardly an exact science, guessing when the ghostwriter's voice takes over from the author's, but in the description, for example, of the scale of Pakistan's devastating 2005 earthquake, the reader is told that the damage "affected 30,000 square kilometres, an area as big as the American state of Connecticut", and the stiff, know-it-all voice of a foreign correspondent resounds.
It is Malala who touches the heart of Pakistan's troubles. Speaking of Swat, she writes that it was some 20 years after partition that the Wali of the Valley renounced his power and brought his kingdom into Pakistan. "So I was born a proud daughter of Pakistan," she writes, "though like all Swatis I thought of myself first as a Swati and Pashtun, before Pakistani."
What it means to be from Pakistan – a country of 300 languages, diverse cultures, religions and identities – when real power is restricted to one province is a debate that has always raged in this country. The army and bureaucracy and indeed the functioning power are centralised in the Punjab, while the remaining three provinces – Sindh, Balochistan and Khyber Pukhtun Khwa – are unequal shareholders in the idea that is Pakistan.
Until power is fairly shared among the four provinces the threat of secession will be a cloud hanging over the country. Malala writes of her beloved father, Ziauddin, wearing a black armband on Pakistan's 50th anniversary "because there was nothing to celebrate since Swat joined Pakistan", presciently foreshadowing a deepening ethnic imbalance so profound that only an extraordinary common enemy could distract from it. The burgeoning power of the Taliban in today's Pakistan should not be much of a surprise to those who understand, as Malala does, the need to redress these ethnic wounds.
Though feted around the globe for her eloquence, intelligence and bravery, Malala is much maligned in Pakistan. The haters and conspiracy theorists would do well to read this book. Malala is certainly an ardent critic of the Taliban, but she also speaks passionately against America's drone warfare, the CIA's policy of funding jihadi movements, the violence and abductions carried out by the Pakistani military, feudalism, the barbarous Hudood laws, and even Raymond Davis, the CIA contractor who caused a diplomatic meltdown between America and Pakistan when he killed two Pakistanis in broad daylight in Lahore – "Even we schoolchildren know that ordinary diplomats don't drive around in unmarked cars carrying Glock pistols."
I Am Malala is as much Malala's father's story as it is his daughter's, and is and a touching tribute to his quest to be educated and to build a model school. Malala writes of her father sitting late into the night, cooking and bagging popcorn to sell so that he would have extra income for his project. She quotes him on all matters – from the ban on The Satanic Verses to the environmental problems facing the Swat Valley – and teases him for his long-winded speeches.
Yet, even as Malala says she does not hate the man who shot her, here in Pakistan anger towards this ambitious young campaigner is as strong as ever. Amid the bile, there is a genuine concern that this extraordinary girl's courageous and articulate message will be colonised by one power or other for its own insidious agendas. She is young and the forces around her are strong and often sinister when it comes to their designs on the global south. There is a reason we know Malala's story but not that of Noor Aziz, eight years old when killed by a drone strike in Pakistan; Zayda Ali Mohammed Nasser, dead at seven from a drone strike in Yemen; or Abeer Qassim Hamza al Janabi, the 14-year-old girl raped and set on fire by US troops in Mahmudiyah, Iraq. "I wasn't thinking these people were humans," one of the soldiers involved, Steven Green, said of his Iraqi victims.
It will always be more convenient for the west to paint itself as more righteous, more civilised, than the people they occupy and kill. But now, Malala's fight should be ours too – more inclusion of women, remembrance of the many voiceless and unsung Malalas, and education for all.
• Fatima Bhutto's novel The Shadow Of The Crescent Moon is out from Viking next month.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News and Media 2013
The Sun has cooled, so why are the deep oceans warming?
Posted on 28 October 2013 by Rob Painting Key Points: In keeping with scientific expectations, the ongoing emission of greenhouse gases from human industrial activity is causing the Earth to build up heat - a process known as the increased (enhanced…
North Korea is treated as a joke, but the reality is a repressive regime the world must no longer ignore
Kim Song-ju sought to escape the living hell of North Korea, but after crossing a freezing river into China was returned, like so many other defectors. He was sent to a prison camp, where he shared – with 40 other unfortunates – a cramped cell that had to be entered on all fours through a tiny door less than two feet high. They were starved – their watery soup often containing stones – and routinely beaten by guards, who told them they were no longer human.
Kim's mother died in the prison, handcuffed to her bed. Her body was never returned to her family, who fear it was used for medical experiments. Eventually Kim escaped again, and now lives in Surrey's serene suburbia. Last week, he was in Westminster Central Hall, in London, one of several witnesses telling their horror stories to a United Nations commission of inquiry investigating the hermit state's atrocities. "In North Korea the words 'human rights' do not exist," he said.
Other defectors told of hunger and torture, of forced marriage and abortions. One woman had to leave her Chinese-born son when sent back to North Korea, fearing he might be killed, given the regime's obsession with racial purity. She was chained to three other women and made to haul heavy loads after being returned. The panel has also heard of mothers forced to drown children in buckets, of men seeing brothers executed, and of families eating lizards and grass in order to survive.
North Korea is often seen as something of a joke: a strange, secretive place in the grip of cartoon communism and under the thumb of crazed dictators. Rare glimpses behind the bamboo curtain fuel the fascination, with images of mass games, military parades, rocket launches and a ski resort built by its Swiss-educated young ruler. Or there are the buffoonish antics of US basketball star Dennis Rodman, drinking tequila with Kim Jong-un and saying the "dear leader" only wants the world's most repressed people to be happy.
The UN inquiry, due to release initial findings this week before giving its full verdict early next year, will hopefully challenge such complacency. If it finds there are crimes against humanity – and it is hard to envisage any other conclusion – then there could be the establishment of a special prosecution by the international criminal court (ICC).
Such a move might be only symbolic, since North Korea is not a signatory to the treaty that created the court, and its vainglorious leaders will not risk their liberty by travelling anywhere that might hand them over to justice. But it would demonstrate belated determination to confront what is without doubt a hideously despotic regime, and put some pressure on China to stop protecting its client state and neighbour.
It would also shore up a crucial court, established to prosecute the world's worst crimes but facing unprecedented pressure over its relentless focus on African offenders. There is rightful outrage all those indicted are from Africa. But now this is being used to press for the deferral of charges against Kenya's new president, Uhuru Kenyatta, and his deputy over their alleged roles in 2007 election violence. These calls are shamefully being supported by some western nations, which fear a diplomatic rift could damage their war on terror in east Africa.
There should be no illusions over North Korea: it is a quasi-fascist state, ruled along racist lines by a highly corrupt elite. It has run giant gulags holding an estimated 120,000 people in the most inhumane conditions imaginable for half a century – yet how often do we hear them condemned by either politicians or celebrities? One camp is 31 miles long – and, as Amnesty International will reveal next month, satellite images show they are expanding.
The only exit usually is death – and it is thought that four in 10 inmates at one prison died from malnutrition. Uniquely, this is a country in which not only is life totally controlled, with circumstances dependent upon the actions of your forebears in the Korean war, but with collective punishment. If someone commits a crime, such as watching a banned soap opera or possessing a Bible, their family, friends and even children can be deemed to share guilt. So there are thousands born into slave labour who know of no existence beyond the barbed wire and brutality.
I visited North Korea last month in the guise of a tourist. The propaganda is relentless, from endless portraits of the regime's two dead leaders to a vast mausoleum holding their bodies, built of finest marble and the size of a small airport in a nation where millions are impoverished, hungry and without healthcare. Workers march to their jobs behind red flags and posters exhort people to work harder, yet this bankrupt nation is propped up by aid, black markets and China.
Throughout my trip I was escorted by two "guides" who even stayed in my hotel; they were members of the elite trusted to mix with foreigners. Their explanations for the lack of cars on the roads or goods in shops were farcical, but they were friendly and funny; one night we got drunk together in a karaoke bar. Yet despite their elevated status they had not heard of the Beatles, hip-hop or even South Korean superstar Psy – and my attempted explanation of his YouTube hit foundered on their lack of knowledge of the internet.
It was a surreal experience, like visiting a Stalinist theme park – and so baffling that I left with more questions than when I arrived. But visitors do not see the death camps, dreadful famine or grinding poverty, which has stunted growth of North Koreans by three inches and shortened life expectancy by a decade. This is an entire country imprisoned by ghastly rulers, a state of affairs both intolerable and unsustainable. The world has stood by and done nothing for too long.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News and Media 2013
Ten steps you can take right now against Internet surveillance
One of the trends we've seen is how, as the word of the NSA's spying has spread, more and more ordinary people want to know how (or if) they can defend themselves from surveillance online. But where to start? The bad news is: if you're being personally…
[Spying laptop via Shutterstock]
Responsibility for Healthcare.gov's IT problems lie with dot gov
This was a management not a technology failure. Obama's error was not to empower technologists to tell him the truth
The launch of Healthcare.gov has not gone well. This is the Obama administration's fault.
In the immediate aftermath of the 1 October launch, it looked as if the problems were caused by a surfeit of interest. As the days went on, however, the problems persisted. The site's most basic interactive operation was creating a new account. This was required for all subsequent uses of the insurance market, but something like nine out of ten attempts failed. By the middle of the month, Consumer Reports was telling its readers "Stay away from Healthcare.gov for at least another month if you can", because the site could not perform, even under the conditions its designers imagined.
Much of the resulting "What went wrong and what now?" conversation has focused on the difference between the world-beating mastery of technology for Obama for America (OfA)'s re-election effort v the subsequent administration's considerably more plodding use of technology after taking office.
Several people central to OfA have pointed out that their work was, in many ways, easier than Healthcare.gov's. They could start from scratch, did not have to coordinate with as many outside entities, and could hire anyone they wanted, and work in any way they liked. Everything about the way the government builds large technical projects contrasts unfavorably, from specification to procurement, to hiring, to management.
But the most important distinction between OfA and Healthcare.gov isn't about how each project dealt with technology. It's about how each project dealt with reality.
Obama's re-election team developed new technology, which they tested early, often, and aggressively (very aggressively). The team working on Healthcare.gov tested it late, infrequently, casually. Most importantly, when testing at OfA showed something was broken, they fixed it. When the little testing they did showed parts of Healthcare.gov were broken, they launched it anyway.
Building a bad website is a technology failure. Launching a bad website is a management failure.
Many people in Democratic politics-tech circles are now suggesting that Healthcare.gov is the best anyone could have hoped for, by pointing out how cumbersome rules for procurement, hiring, and management are inside the government. All of these problems are real, but every one of those difficulties existed the day the Affordable Care Act was signed. (As Rusty Foster pointed out at the New Yorker, IT disasters aren't late-breaking events. The people working on the project know how its going.) Henry Chao, a deputy CIO at Health and Human Services and one of the only people with a clear-eyed view of the problems, had understood what was happening, and not happening, by March this year; yet, his superiors are said to have downplayed his concerns.
And it's visibly not true that the government is destined to fail. As Merici Vinton of the Consumer Financial Protection Board points out, when you have a process that prevents you from launching a big, critical site all at once, you just don't launch it all at once. Knowingly building a key part of an important initiative using a process you believe will fail is almost the definition of a bad decision.
It's possible to argue that in the current partisan atmosphere, denying the Republicans any fodder for complaint during the design of the insurance exchange was paramount. It is not possible, however, to argue that this strategy worked well. The same techniques used to avoid small early failures, like delaying specifications or avoiding partial rollouts, were the very things that created the large, late failures of the launch. The political strategy created a larger version of the very problem it was designed to avoid.
So, now what?
The obvious thing is to fix the site so that it performs its core functions. This work is already underway, though expectations of a "tech surge" are overblown. One of the most widely understood dynamics of complex software projects is that adding more workers tends to delay things, as the complexity of additional communications swamps the boost from having extra help.
But even after the site works, the underlying management problems are still there, and those should alarm us Democrats. The lesson from this launch isn't just about technological management; it's about the ability of officials to receive and act on bad news – surely, a core function.
Before Obama's remarks on launch day, someone should have said:
Hey, chief, say it's a soft launch, or the first day of public testing. Say we need feedback, or that the we're going to fine-tune it. Say anything but "Come and get it."
That, of course, didn't happen. Instead, Obama compared the site to Amazon.com – an irresponsible comparison, even if things were going well – and invited all comers to take a look. ("You don't have to take my word for it.") As bad as the site was on the morning of 1 October, Obama made it worse that afternoon, by raising both expectations and traffic.
Why would he do something that counter to his own interests? Because no one was in a position to warn him not to. Chao had been worrying, for over six months, that the experience was going to be "third world", but (as we now know from the first congressional hearing) responsibility was so diffuse, and the people who knew it was going badly lacked either the authority or the access to tell the president otherwise.
An organization paralyzed by the inconvenience of reality is having more than just procurement problems.
One obvious response is that the president of the United States shouldn't have to spend his time dealing with the launch of a website. But Obama and his team will now spend more time in the next 90 days talking about Healthcare.gov than they would have spent over the last 90 days, if they'd taken more time to understand how it was going. You can't make a piece of technology central to the most important achievement of your administration, and then let people run it without telling you the truth about its progress.
The business of government, from information-gathering to service delivery, will be increasingly mediated by the internet. As that becomes clear, we are at last having a conversation about how the government can get good at that. But as long as senior management believes that postponing failure is the same as avoiding it, and that not talking about a problem is the same as solving it, all the talented programmers and flexible work rules in the world won't be enough.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News and Media 2013
Ted Cruz isn't the only Tea Party nut. There's plenty more of them
It's instructive to remember that when the Tea Party first began to gather steam, the name referred to a "party" in the celebration sense – the Boston Tea Party, specifically: an event of planned chaos, a protest that masqueraded as an Indian attack. Over time, the name has lost its punny puckishness much as the movement has steadily shifted from a proudly anarchical – even populist – response and rebellion within the GOP to a smoothly functioning alternative to it. The government shutdown proved that attempts by the GOP establishment to co-opt the Tea Party as a source of energy just created a network of political sleeper agents. With its own mechanism for drafting (and supporting) candidates, its own agenda, and its own media eco-system, the Tea Party is a third party by almost any criteria but ballot affiliation – and leadership. The absence of any official organizational structure might be one reason the Tea Party has remained so lively despite a terrible national reputation and negligible policy achievements. When something goes wrong, those identified with the failure fade for a time and the attention of Tea Party-identified voters shifts smoothly to someone else. There's also no demand for positive policy victories or signature legislation: no one has to win a debate, just spoil the outcome. Thus it's no surprise that Ted Cruz is the current face of the Tea Party: All his achievements are proudly in the negative, all his goals are set resolutely in the past. But the Tea Party's fickle and hive-like nature virtually demands that Cruz cycle out of the spotlight eventually. He will either fail to stop something from happening or, perhaps worse, accidentally cause something to get done. For when that happens: here's a look at some of the Tea Party's once and perhaps future leaders. The don't-call-them comebacks: politicians and activists who've tasted Tea Party's adoration and haven't given up on a second sip. These are primarily hacks who clawed their way on stage at some point and are now biding their time in minor-media purgatory with the hope that they'll be able to fake-controversy themselves into relevance once more. Herman Cain: the one-time front-runner for the GOP presidential nomination sputtered into the national conversation just this week, asserting the accusations of sexual harassment that sealed the end of his campaign were the work of "a force bigger than right": the Devil. He is an aggressive and peppy Twitter user and turns up on Fox Business to predict disaster on a regular basis.
Former Congressman Allen West (Florida): the former congressman who compared the Democrats to Josef Goebbles and worried about Obama supports being a "threat to the gene pool" last month left his post as the director of programming for the conservative news aggregator Pajamas Media under allegations of anti-Semitism. He claimed that he was moving on voluntarily "to pursue political aspirations." So keep an eye out.
Congresswoman Michele Bachmann (Minnesota): she's leaving Congress even as an ethics investigation against her continues; if she is seeking a quieter life you wouldn't know it by the bombs she keeps throwing: In the last month, she proclaimed the government reopening to be "a very sad day" and said that Obama's presidency was a sign of the end of the world. Miley Cyrus played her in an SNL sketch.
Congressman Paul Ryan (Wisconsin): former vice-presidential candidate currently in some kind of witness protection program, but he did manage to smuggle out a Wall Street Journal op-ed that was mostly ignored. He's in a gym somewhere, waiting. Waiting.
Former Governor Sarah Palin (Alaska): will not be ignored, even though people try to: Her trippy word-salad appearance on Fox during the shutdown prompted an uncharacteristic reining in of the Wasilla wildwoman, with Megyn Kelly desperately trying to stop the crazy train: "Let me jump in! Let me jump in! But I want to ask you a question governor!"
Joe "the plumber" Wurzelbacher: His 15 minutes of fame ticks inexorably on, strung out by Wurzelbacher's proud adoption of the Misunderstood White Guy cause. He popped into consciousness last month for re-posting a rant about "wanting a white President." He is also available to act as a plumber. Most likely to succeed: Sarah Palin. She combines lack of self-awareness with a contradictory but well-honed sense of what makes good clickbait. Reporters will never, ever tire of her. The junior varsity class: They have yet to capture the Tea Party's full attention, but could bound onto centerstage at any moment.
Senator Mike Lee (Utah): Right now probably best known as the guy still willing to sit next to Ted Cruz in the Senate cafeteria, Lee was one of the first candidates to stage a "Tea Party" challenge to a sitting Republican senator. Despite a narrow victory in that primary (that included placing second at the official nominating convention), Lee has legislated like a man who believes he's got the mandate of a movement. He was at Cruz's side, literally, during most of the shutdown and echoed the fiery rhetoric of the most extreme conservatives (he compared the campaign to shutdown the government to the Revolutionary War). Utahans are reportedly unhappy about this – all the better to move to a national stage!
Congressman Tom Cotton (Arkansas): Cotton has racked up an impressive amount of national attention as a fresh Republican face, and he's done it without saying anything especially insane. He did quote John Wilkes Booth approvingly once, but has reserved his extremism more for policy than punditry – he wanted to extend sanctions on Iranian human rights violators to family members (in violation of the Constitution's prohibition against conviction on the basis of "corruption of blood") and was among those to vote for stripping food stamp provisions from the Farm Bill (this despite representing a third of Arkansas' over 500,000 food stamp recipients). He's challenging a conservative Democrat, Mark Pryor, rather than a moderate Republican in the state's Senate race; a win could put him at the mean girls table with Lee and Cruz.
Matt Bevin: Bevin is the Kentucky hedge-fund manager mounting a populist primary challenge to that RINO squish Mitch McConnell (the current Senate Republican leader). McConnell's refusal to champion Tea Party causes – he didn't speak about the government shutdown until its third day – has made Bevin attractive to far right fundraisers and activists. Based more on disappointment in McConnell than Bevin's promise (or crazy talk), his otherwise quixotic campaign (unseating a five-term minority leader) has gotten national attention and support from the likes of the Senate Conservative Fund (early backers of Cruz and Lee, as well as Cotton) and Palin. Most likely to succeed: I've got my eye on Cotton. He's currently beating Democrat Mark Pryor by four points in the US senate race matchup. Pryor has already put up ads tying Cotton to the shutdown, but the tactic might not succeed as well as it could in other races – not because Arkansas voters liked the shutdown much more than anyone else, but because Cotton was savvy about moderating his support of it. In the end, in fact, he was one of the few House Republicans who voted to end it. Could that cost him national Tea Party support? It didn't even cost him the support of the Club for Growth, who has been running ads on his behalf. As for the Tea party base, once Cotton is in the Senate he won't have to answer to voters as often or as quickly and can take the same cost-free extreme stands that other Tea Party senators do. The models of false-modesty: these elected officials have been lauded as Tea Party leaders despite professed reluctance and unsure attachment. They have political positions that make for an occasionally uncomfortable fit but seem willing to tailor them if the Tea Party mantle comes with extra large pockets and a presidential berth. Governor Chris Christie (New Jersey): despite his notorious post-Sandy embrace of Obama, Christie's bullying personality echoes favorably among Tea Party supporters. He casts his history of bipartisan negotiation as a form of steamrolling practicality, and many of his actual policies, save regarding gun control, fit comfortably within the far right framework. It's chic now for the hard right to denounce him: he didn't fight gay marriage hard enough, for instance. But if he can roll out enough insults to Democrats and pal around with more conventional Tea Party heroes such as Steve Lonegan (the erstwhile GOP NJ senate candidate), Christie could convince the conservative base he has their best interests at his large heart.
Senator Marco Rubio (Florida): Rubio was a relatively minor player in the shutdown theater, but he stands to benefit enormously from it as far as Tea Party support goes, as it has weakened the chances that the immigration debate will return to front-and-center. Rubio's valiant effort to craft a message on immigration that could appeal to the deeply skeptical conservative fringe shook up what had been a masterful Jenga-like tower of mixed positions: a little Tea Party here, a little GOP careerism there. He now looks more careerist than ever. Perhaps more problematic is Rubio's attempt to distance himself from the shutdown in retrospect: He now says, "I was never in favor of shutting down the government," a story that seems tailored to make him seem reasonable, which won't do at all.
Senator Rand Paul (Kentucky): Paul's weak spot is foreign policy—not so much that he doesn't have any experience (few Tea Party darlings do) but that he sounds an isolationist note that can register to many self-proclaimed patriots dangerously like weakness. Paul has been sly about positioning on this, however; at the Value Voters conference earlier this month, Paul gave a rousingly xenophobic speech heavy on Biblical allusions to Muslims' perfidy… he just declined to say we should bomb them. He thundered, "I will not rest" until Christian pastor Saeed Abedini is released from Iranian prison, but was cagey about what his wakefulness entailed: "everything within our power, within our voice, from the White House, from the State Department, from our government" stops conspicuously short of military intervention. That base covered, or at least shaded, Paul's other positions (pro-life, pro-gun, against NSA surveillance, Obamacare, regulation in general) need little protective coloring in the deep red climes of Tea Party nation. What's more, his genial stiffness and shy self-awareness give him a kind of awkward dignity compared to the preening smugness of Cruz. Most likely to succeed: Rand Paul. I suspect he'll continue to stand to Cruz's side for awhile longer, collecting speaking engagements and offering Cruz fulsome praise until Cruz's moment ends. The only important variable is when that moment comes; I'm betting that Rand hopes it lasts until sometime in the fall of 2015.
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