All Politicians Lie.
Yes, I know; that’s a shocking revelation. But from a game theoretical position, politicians must lie. It’s the only rational course of action.
Let me outline why.
Say, I’m running for office for a state representative seat in the fictional state of West Dakota, a state that is presently dominated by Republicans but is swinging Democrat is some urban centers.
First rule of politics: being a politician is a job.
So the problem is if I want to run for office, my political party is picked for me: either (a) I have been involved in politics for so long with my party that I’m hand-picked by the current office holder as his successor, or (b) I want to go into politics, at which point I must run against the incumbent for the other political party.
And that has NOTHING to do with my political beliefs. That has everything to do with the logistics of the election, and the default political system in our country, where there are two political parties: the party of the incumbent, and the party of the opposition.
Now, I may have a wide array of beliefs: some which align with the Republican platform, and some which align with the Democratic platform. But then we run up against the second rule of politics:
Second rule of politics: political parties are about power, not about beliefs.
This, by the way is a good thing. You may read this as a cynical ploy, but it really has to do with the fact that if a local party organization wants power, it must model best the beliefs of the voters in that local area, and do so in a way which matches the national organization’s own attempts to model the beliefs of the nation in a seemingly consistent way.
That is, think of this as “capitalism” applied to politics: each party is trying its hardest to tailor itself to the needs and desires of the voters.
So if I am sincere about the job of representative in West Dakota, I pick a party out of convenience.
It’s not that I don’t have political beliefs: of course I do. But some of my beliefs may be core to me, some of them I may not care as much about. On a (simple) diagram it looks like this:
For example, I may care deeply about abortion rights, but on international trade, I may not care all that much.
I know this is an extremely simple two-box model for a very complex idea, but the simplification is intentional, because things are about to get very complex.
Meanwhile, my voters also have issues they care about deeply, and issues they don’t care about, just like the graph above. But worse: I may or may not agree with my voters about an issue.
So let’s add the complexity to our diagram:
This three dimensional grid allows me to plan a strategy for how I will lie to my constituents.
Yes, lie.
For example, I may have an opinion on international trade, but honestly, I don’t really care all that much about international trade. Here in West Dakota, we have a lot of widget manufacturers exporting stuff–so my constituents may have a strong opinion on things. So really, in that right box–it becomes pretty simple: tell the voters what they want to hear. That means if I agree, tell the truth. If I disagree, lie like a cheap rug.
On the things I care about, the equation is different. Clearly on things voters don’t care about, I can reveal my honest heart-felt position. But where the voters and I have strong feelings but where we disagree–since they are electing me, it’s in my best interest to lie.
Let’s fill in the blanks, shall we?
Oh, but wait; it gets even more complicated than this!
Because when I get to the legislature, because I was such a good liar, I now have to deal with other folks who may have other political positions. And of course I have to deal with the political positions of my “party”–that is, the collective set of positions that they supposedly believe in.
So let’s add all that in, shall we?
Yes, it gets far more complex, because not only are there things I agree with my party on and things I don’t agree with my party on, but there are things the party actually believes, things the party pretends to believe and things the party does not care about.
That means on any one issue there are 48 possible different strategies I can employ.
Within this matrix of positions–and there are dozens if not hundreds of different policies on which these positions may hold–there are countless different strategies that may be employed.
Within this matrix comes “horse trading.” For example, there may be an issue my voters do not hold strongly to, but which I’ve advertised as having a strong opinion about–even though I don’t. I may use that strong position on an issue to “compromise”–that is, I may “horse trade” that issue for another issue that I actually do hold strongly for.
(For example, I may not strongly care about international trade with outer Mongolia–and I may know my voters, while they strongly care about international trade, don’t give a fig about outer Mongolian trade. But I’ve advertised this as a strong point of contention. I may use that idea to pretend to “yield” with other politicians for something I do care about–say, I care deeply about deregulating manufacturing. Or I may trade it for something I don’t care about but I know my voters do care about–like trade with Europe.)
That means not only are there 48 different potential outcomes for each individual policy position–but there are also different ways in which these policy positions intermingle.
And if I’m a smart politician, I can look ahead at how my positions will play out in the legislature–so I may, during the elections, stake out strong positions in areas I know I don’t care about or my voters don’t care about, simply so I can have some cards to trade when I win office.
FREE TRADE WITH OUTER MONGOLIA!!!
Now you may say “you should always tell the truth, that’s the best policy!”
But no, it’s not. Because (a) I risk alienating my voters, by disagreeing with what they want, and (b) I become a transparent representative, who ultimately has no power because I have noting to trade: no positions to sacrifice, no cards to give up.
It’s why honest, transparent people are destroyed by the political process–and why, if you join a political party to earnestly promote values you believe in, you will never be able to rise past the position of paid community organizer, or perhaps dog catcher.
On the other hand, this process actually creates better representation for the voters. Why? Because my lies are always tailored to what makes my voters happy, while not utterly and completely compromising my own personal values. Because I know what things I care about–and can advocate for them as best as I can within the matrix of possible outcomes–while at the same time giving my voters what they want.
But it does mean there are some odd, perverse outcomes in all of this.
I mean, have you ever wondered why, even when Republicans have a majority in both houses of Congress and in the White House, and even sympathetic jurists in the Judicial branch, somehow they just never really seem to get around to eliminating abortion rights?
Because it’s NEVER as simple as “the GOP opposes abortion, and they are now in power, so abortion will get eliminated.”
Remember: there are over 500 congress critters floating around in Congress, each with their 48-box matrix, each of them experts in horse trading, all of whom have lied to you about what they personally believe.
So how do you pick a politician when they’re all lying?
At some level, in a real sense, it doesn’t matter. That is, in a real sense, because of the way our government is structured, there is very little any single politician can do to move the needle. Further, politicians are, more or less, constrained by the structure of party politics, by the conflicts with other members of the legislature, and the need to drive a consensus just to get anything done.
Now that doesn’t mean your vote doesn’t matter or that your voice doesn’t matter. Your voice is deeply important. Your vote matters. But it matters in a different way than you think.
Because your vote and your voice helps inform politicians how you (and other voters in your district) think: what is important to you, what you believe. And at the bottom of the stack, the ability of politicians to actually listen to what you think–despite the incentives they have not to actually listen–is what keeps them in a job.
For example, I may think you don’t care about trade with outer Mongolia. But that last election–I damned near lost it because a whole bunch of people were pissed about my position on outer Mongolia. Time for a course correction.
And the willingness of politicians to listen and to engage the voters in their district and listen to the voting results is what allows them to inform their decisions in the various halls of power–which, ultimately, is what allows them to keep their jobs.
(Addendum: Note I don’t even get into “things that can be changed” and “things that can’t.” For example, I may actively support something that I know can’t be changed because it looks good. Nor do I go into the possibility that a valid strategy is for me to appear to support a cause, but deliberately sabotage it from the inside. But my point was made: politicians lie, they have to, and it serves a sort of public good.)
Fuzzy little things that I find interesting. 