Freedom Line Blog

The first Republican presidential debate is set for Thursday night. Fox News on Tuesday announced the lineup, which includes the top 10 of 17 GOP contenders based on an average of national polls.

In: Donald Trump; former Florida Gov. Jeb Bush; Wisconsin Gov. Scott Walker; former Arkansas Gov. Mike Huckabee; retired neurosurgeon Ben Carson; Texas Sen. Ted Cruz; Florida Sen. Marco Rubio; Kentucky Sen. Rand Paul; New Jersey Gov. Chris Christie; and Ohio Gov. John Kasich.

Out: former Texas Gov. Rick Perry; former Pennsylvania Sen. Rick Santorum; Louisiana Gov. Bobby Jindal; former Hewlett Packard CEO Carly Fiorina; South Carolina Sen. Lindsey Graham; former New York Gov. George Pataki; and former Virginia Gov. Jim Gilmore.

What to make of this motley crew? H. L. Mencken made an art of skewering politicians. Although he would describe himself over the years as an “enlightened tory,” an “extreme libertarian,” a “reactionary,” and a “whig,” he was a lifelong Democrat who revered Grover Cleveland and hated Woodrow Wilson and Franklin D. Roosevelt. And although Mencken judged practically every president after George Washington as inferior to the task, he directed some of his best barbs at the presidency itself. Here’s what he had to say about the sort of men who seek the Oval Office ahead of the 1924 election:

Let us turn from such specially bred men [as kings] to the sort of fellows who constitute the common run of Presidents under democracy — the Franklin Pierces, Tafts, Eberts, Poincares, Chester A. Arthurs, Benjamin Harrisons, John Tylers, Rutherford B. Hayes and so on — mainly ninth-rate politicians, petty and puerile men, strangers to anything resembling honor. It is my contention that even such preposterous worms, if they were turned into kings, would make relatively honest and competent administrators — that, at worst, they would be better than any Presidents save a miraculous few. . . . The point is that . . . [their] good qualities are now under constant adverse pressure — that they can be given free play only by heroic efforts, too often beyond the man’s strength. If he were absolutely free, as the responsible head of a great state ought to be — if he could devote his whole energies to administering the government according to his best skill and judgment, instead of spending nine-tenths of his time engaging in obscene devices to enchant the mob or humiliating bargainings with villainous politicians — then the chances are that he would run the state . . . competently . . . and so give us a government a great deal better than any democracy deserves, or will ever get. His job does not require genius; it requires only industry, honesty, courage and common sense. But how can a man harbor such qualities and at the same time make votes? What chance has he got against the nearest mountebank? (The Baltimore Evening Sun, April 2, 1923)

Three years earlier, as the Age of Wilson was winding down, Mencken famously wrote:

The Presidency tends, year by year, to go . . . to mediocre men. As democracy is perfected, the office represents, more and more closely, the inner soul of the people. We move toward a lofty ideal. On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their heart’s desire at last, and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron. (The Baltimore Evening Sun, June 26, 1920)

The reader is left to judge whether Mencken’s sobriquet applies to any of the current crop of candidates, Republican or Democrat.

Over the weekend, Alexandra Petri had a fun little opinion piece over at the Washington Post about “Mitt Romney’s First-World Problems.” It’s an entertaining meditation on why Romney’s life — which is something approaching the American ideal — doesn’t make for a great campaign season narrative. The most effective passage, however has nothing to do with Romney:

Some professions make peculiar demands. The ideal life for a president is full of bootstrap-pulling and high drama. It runs something like this: You were born on a mountaintop in Tennessee, greenest state in the land of the free, raised in the woods so’s you knew every tree, and were offered the choice to kill a bear but did not take it when you were only 3. You spent the next 15 years studying and working in your all-American town and somehow wound up at an institution of higher learning that was prestigious — but not offputtingly prestigious. Then you became a war veteran. Next you governed a state whose priorities aligned exactly with those of your party, and during this time you created tens of thousands of jobs. Also, you are capable of stringing together a sentence without looking excruciatingly pained.

That described Rick Perry until the last clause.

That is brutal — and totally correct. It’s a reminder of how different this election season could have been if Rick Perry had come loaded for bear. And it’s also a helpful lesson for voters: even the most enticing biography won’t save a candidate whose performance on the stump leaves voters unable to picture him in the Oval Office. Thus does Rick Perry take his seat alongside Fred Thompson and Wesley Clark in the “It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time” club.

A few months ago, I noted how Indiana Governor Mitch Daniels is shaping up to be one of the most impressive stars in the GOP’s 2012 firmament. Though Daniels has gotten some literary love from a wonky contigent of Washington’s columnist corps, he’s never received quite as extensive a profile as in Andrew Ferguson’s cover story in the new Weekly Standard.

The whole (very lengthy) piece is worth reading for its portrait of Daniels as an unpretentious midwesterner, aggresive manager, and possible antidote to the Age of Obama (the piece — coming close on the heels of his PAC’s first high-profile Washington fundraiser — is an obvious attempt to rollout a campaign narrative). Among the nuggets that make a Daniel’s candidacy worth consideration:

He’s quicker on his feet than a garden-variety pol:

We were having lunch one day at a favorite spot, the St. Louis Street Soda Shop in Vincennes, on the Wabash River. Having resisted the Fried Bologna Sandwich ($3.49, with chips, pickle extra), Daniels was washing down a quarter-pound Coney Island dog with a large butterscotch milkshake—“the best in the state,” he assured Dolly, the delighted owner—when a reporter from the local radio station appeared. She pressed him on the education budget cuts too. She told him the local school board had just laid off nine teachers and an administrator.

“What would you say to those people?” she asked.

He visibly flinched, just as he had on MitchTV.

“I’d say it should have been nine administrators and one teacher. There are 20 things that school board could do before it had to lay off one teacher.”

He has an economic record about as sharply in contrast to Obama’s as is imaginable:

When Daniels took office, in 2004, the state faced a $200 million deficit and hadn’t balanced its budget in seven years. Four years later, all outstanding debts had been paid off; after four balanced budgets, the state was running a surplus of $1.3 billion, which has cushioned the blows from a steady decline in revenues caused by the recession. “That’s what saved us when the recession hit,” one official said. “If we didn’t have the cash reserves and the debts paid off, we would have been toast.” The state today is spending roughly the same amount that it was when Daniels took office, largely because he resisted the budget increases other states were indulging in the past decade.

No other state in the Midwest—all of them, like Indiana, dependent on a declining manufacturing sector—can match this record. Venture capital investment in Indiana had lagged at $39 million annually in the first years of this decade. By 2009 it was averaging $94 million. Even now the state has continued to add jobs—7 percent of new U.S. employment has been in Indiana this year, a state with 2 percent of the country’s population. For the first time in 40 years more people are moving into the state than leaving it. Indiana earned its first triple-A bond rating from Standard and Poor’s in 2008; the other two major bond rating agencies concurred in April 2010, making it one of only nine states with this distinction, and one of only two in the Midwest.

And — most astonishingly — he’s such an effective governor that he even got the DMV (actually BMV in the Hoosier State) transformed into a customer-centered operation:

The state Bureau of Motor Vehicles, another patronage sump that was routinely ranked one of the worst in the country, was drastically reorganized. “He likes metrics,” [Indiana OMB Director Ryan] Kitchell said. “He likes to measure outcomes.” Every line item in the state budget has at least one objective formula attached to it to indicate how well each service is being delivered. Regulatory agencies track the speed with which permits and variances are granted. The economic development agency has to compare the hourly wage of each new job brought to the state with the average hourly wage of existing jobs. In the case of the BMV, the two most important metrics were wait times and customer satisfaction. Now each receipt is stamped with the time the customer arrives and the time his transaction is completed. Wait times have dropped from over 40 minutes to under 10 minutes. Surveys put customer satisfaction at 97 percent.

A new generation of reformers is beginning to develop outside of Washington. Dare we hope for a Mitch Daniels/Chris Christie ticket in 2012 (in either order)?