The notion of bipartisanship hovers balefully over the American political landscape. For some time, I’ve been struggling to conceptualize exactly why it’s such a bogus, indeed harmful, ‘ideal.’ I thought I might organize my thoughts by writing around a passage in Mill’s On Liberty that I find enraging. In a famous passage from chapter II, speaking of the importance of free speech, Mill writes “A party of order or stability, and a party of progress or reform, are both necessary elements of a healthy state of political life.” So far, so good. But later in the chapter, he adds to this that “it is not on the impassioned partisan, it is on the calmer and more disinterested bystander, that this collision of opinions works its salutary effect.” His picture seems to be that the partisans of the two parties do their thing, each blinded by their partiality and prejudice, while the calm and disinterested citizen, what we now call the “independent” voter, watches them as she would a half-comic, half-serious wrestling match, and derives a benefit, a moderate amalgamation of the good bits of each of the partisan views, from the spectacle. This is enraging because it casts the partisan necessarily as a fool and elevates the disinterested spectator to the position of the only one capable of deriving benefit from the political culture in which she lives.
This, I think, is the view that today lauds, in equal measure, bipartisanship and the independent voter. When the parties are not acting in concert with each other, the picture goes, necessarily they act as partisan fools. The only benefit they have to offer is by ‘finding common ground’ and appealing to the independent voter, who becomes the only one whose role in the spectacle counts. (There’s something I’m not getting quite right here. Do they find common ground to appeal to the independent voter, or does the independent voter find the moderate position by seeing them fight without finding common ground? I’m mixing these up, but I don’t see how to disentangle this yet.) This model does apply, of course, to the legal system. The adversarial jury trial is exactly this: a staged contest between contestants who are acknowledged to be partisan, each presenting a case, from which the jury, the agents who ultimately matter, are supposed to derive a balanced view of the truth. But it seems a great mistake to apply this to the political system, as Mill does and as the common wisdom about the virtues of bipartisanship seems to do.
In order to get a better handle on these matters, I turned to Richard Hofstadter’s The Idea of a Party System, which charts the emergence of political parties, and the theory of political parties, from 1780 to 1840. The Founding Fathers emerge from an 18th century tradition of great hostility to parties. (Of the century’s important thinkers, only Burke saw the virtues and importance of parties.) But with the new republic that they fashioned, they found themselves forced to confront the existence of parties and the need to separate organized opposition to the government from sedition and treason. (Struggling with these issues led to some missteps, like the notorious Aliens and Sedition Act of 1798 by which the Federalists attempted to crush the opposition rather than live with it.)
Unfortunately for me, either these early Americans didn’t discuss the concept of bipartisanship, or if they did, Hofstadter did not feel it of interest to report their thoughts on it. I’m pretty sure it was the former. After all, what opposed partisanship, for them, was non-partisanship, not bipartisanship. But some of the 18th century anti-party ideas are certainly mixed up with the Millian justification of parties I described above. When Obama discusses bipartisanship, he seems to use it not as the emergence of a wise moderation from the foolish extremes, but as a stepping stone to a position, for him, above the party fray. He is not (in his own estimation, I guess) the independent voter learning from the spectacle, but Bolingbroke’s ‘Patriot King’: “a monarch of surpassing virtue, competence, and political dexterity, a king so benign that opposition would no longer exist” (Hofstadter, p. 20). The Patriot King can “defeat the designs, and break the spirit of faction, instead of partaking in one and assuming the other…. [He can] render [the union of his subjects] so general as to answer all the ends of good government, private security, public tranquility, wealth, power, and fame” (Bolingbroke).
I can’t say I have ended up, having read this book, with a clear sense of how this all works. A lot depends on what you take a party to be, something which is discussed throughout by Hofstadter but to which he does not give direct attention. Sometimes a party is a faction, a clique, an interest group. Sometimes it embodies a political principle or ideology. And sometimes parties differ over “measures and men” though not over principles. (I should say, Hofstadter is not at all confused; rather the authors he discusses have very different opinions, and the course of opinion develops through the period he deals with. What I miss in his book is a sense of how the justifications for the party system work better or worse depending on which conception of party is held.) But the book is invaluable for providing rich source material for thought on this subject. If and when I do try to write about this, I shall certainly do it better for having read this book.