Local politics' perverse incentive problem
When residents complain about the nastiness of politics, they should look in the mirror and take account of the role they’ve played in driving up the heat.
“Our national politics rivals the three stooges. You cannot run for office right now and think you’re going to Washington to do anything substantive. It’s all performative.”
I’ve been saying that a lot lately, especially when watching state and national politics online, or listening to one of several podcasts covering politics. It’s a clown show on both sides. Republican politics, especially, is entirely performative. It’s not about doing the work of the American people; it’s about being as nutty (see MGT) and as outlandish (see Matt Gaetz) as you can. Consequences be damned.
U.S. Rep. Mike Lawler (R) of New York said it best, when describing fellow Republicans ready to shut the government down while knowing the entire party will be blamed for the disastrous event.
“Circus performers” is how Lawler characterized them, in a quote he shared with The Dispatch. I concur.
The real issue, and we see this playing out nationwide, is that there is no incentive for either party to work with the other, lest they be seen as selling out, in which case their constituents will punish them—by threatening to withhold votes or supporting a challenger during the primary—when they are up for re-election. This was on display nationally with the border bill and the near-shutdown of the federal government. But It plays out in ways large and small locally as well.
A hard lesson learned
Not long after I was elected, in 2019, I had numerous conversations with fellow conservatives who challenged my coziness with so-called liberals. I told them what I tell my everyone.
“I am who I am. I don’t care about anyone else’s politics. I’m here to represent the entirety of the community, and that includes people who neither voted for me nor like me—and there are many in that camp.”
I’m not sure how persuaded they were, but that’s where I stood then and now. I’ve often said that a huge benefit to having grown up in rural South Mississippi is the experience of living alongside folks who didn’t like you even though they didn’t know you. In their minds, you represented a cohort they didn’t like, so you were treated similarly.
It’s no different now, but for entirely different reasons: Many people don’t know you but, because they don’t like your politics, they don’t like you. I’d have to use all of my fingers and toes to count the number of times I’ve been accosted in a grocery store parking lot or after an event by someone having a scowl on their face, shooting daggers from their eyes, and with anger dripping from their lips.
One of the most incandescent interactions: “Don’t you ‘hi’ me! You are a poor excuse for a human being. And you—you, of all people. You disgrace me. You should be ashamed of yourself for not standing up for what’s right… .” I’ll leave it to your imagination to guess what their idea of standing up for what’s right was.
Sad as these interaction are, they happen far too often. We’re all to blame.
Fighting the other side has become a sport
In early 2020, shortly after my election, I sat down for coffee with a seasoned elected official. I couldn’t wait to ask one question that had been on my mind since campaigning earlier that year.
“What’s the deal with folks not wanting politicians to be seen as working with the other side?” I asked. “What I mean is, I don’t get the push back from politicians who say ‘Don’t seem too cozy with folks on the other side (Dems in my case).’”
He held up three fingers.
“We’ve done extensive research on this, and it tracks consistently over the years,” he said. “Of the top five issues that Republican voters care about, among them taxes and the border situation, always inside the top three is ‘fight the other side.’ They universally and consistently care about that. They want to see us fighting back against the other side’s agenda.”
Upon hearing this I thought of a concept called Value Capture that was introduced by University of Utah professor Thi Nguyen. It refers to when a metric becomes the primary driver for an activity or behavior. It occurs, for example, when you share images or videos on Instagram, not because you want to share them with family and friends, but because you’ve become infatuated with the attention, engagement or impressions you receive.
What began innocently enough becomes a mindless activity you do instinctively for the metrics, not the genuine interest.
That’s what’s happening when politicians go on Facebook or X/Twitter and, instead of genuinely engaging with their audience, they seek to garner likes and comments by attacking those on the other side while knowing their audience will join the fray and the clicks/views/traffic will come rolling in.
The cobras are loose.
I have another phrase for it, however: Our cobra problem.
First coined by economist Horst Siebert, the Cobra Effect refers to a fictional account of India during British rule, when the government, concerned about an infestation of cobras in Delhi, offered rewards for dead cobras. At first, large numbers of the snakes were killed, but eventually people started breeding cobras to attain the reward. Soon, the government found out, ended the program, and the breeders released the snakes, which created an even bigger problem.
As you might guess, this is a classic case of perverse incentives.
Today, in communities throughout the country, we get so mad at neighbors or family members who vote for the other side that we cannot stand to engage them in conversation. We judge them not for the people that they are and that we know them to be but by what the candidate they vote for represents in our minds.
In turn, political candidates, incentivized to garner as much support as possible, gin up the animus knowing they’re mobilizing their side to contribute to their campaigns or support their agenda.
Next thing you know, cobras are loose everywhere, and there is little incentive to rein them in. Think about that the next time you’re tempted to attack a politician from the opposite party. What have you done to rid the street of cobras?