The Illusion of Inclusion - Republican National Convention

The word from both the Democrats and Republicans--and even among participants at the "shadow conventions"--is that the old politics of left and right is dead. Long live the new politics of "inclusion." What the hell does that mean?

The Democrats discovered the P.R. value of inclusive language long ago. Like corporations that turn protest songs into advertising jingles, the Republicans have finally caught on to the strategy of embracing and subsuming the opposition.

Among the myriad corporate sponsors of the Republican Convention was Dale Carnegie and Associates, Inc. Reporters covering the convention received a little golden booklet with pearls of wisdom from the late granddaddy of American salesmanship and author of How to Win Friends and Influence People. Tip number one in the list of principles on how to "Become a Friendlier Person" is "Don't criticize, condemn, or complain."

The Republicans took that one to heart. All controversy, debate, and ideology were squeezed out of the proceedings.

"Bienvenidos! Welcome!" said the sign over the head of Latino pin-up boy George P. Bush, who took the stage and did a little dance to the strains of "La Bamba." Later, he introduced his uncle, George W. Bush, at a Latin-theme rally on the steps of the Philadelphia Art Museum. It's a "nuevo dia" for the Republicans, said the twenty-four-year-old Mexican-American whom W. calls "el hombre guapo" (the good-looking guy). He went on to tell the crowd that his uncle is, of all things, the rightful heir to Cesar Chavez, co-founder of the United Farm Workers.

"One day Cesar Chavez passed away," George P. said, "and my mother came to me, and she was crying, and she said `hay que buscar lideres que nos representan' (`We have to find leaders who represent us') ... and that person is my uncle."

There were loud cheers for George W. from the crowd of mostly Anglo college kids. UFW President Arturo Rodriguez, Chavez's son-in-law, was not as excited. "We question whether George W. is that leader, based on his record," he said. The UFW points out that the minimum wage for farm workers in Texas is $3.35 an hour compared with $5.75 in California. And Bush has supported changes in workers' comp that make it harder for farm workers to get disability benefits.

But those details were lost on the crowd in Philadelphia. Swaying to the electric drumbeat of a treacly love song by Jon Secada, the group directly in front of the stage waved placards with Spanish slogans.

"We're with the Minnesota College Republicans," said John Thompson, a tall, blond kid holding a sign that read "Viva el Texano." Melissa Jackson, a sophomore at St. Olaf, was waving a sign that said "Juntos Si Se Puede." "I don't have a clue what it means," she admitted. The fifty Minnesotans were given the signs by event organizers, Thompson and Jackson explained. Parker Hamilton, executive director of the National College Republicans and also a blond Nordic type, was holding a "Latinos for Bush" sign. "We wanted to have a lot of young people here to show how much we support Bush," she said. She helped the campaign by recruiting 300 College Republicans to come.

W. arrived and spoke a few words of Spanish to this group. "Como estas?" he asked. "Vamos a ganar. Poco a poco vamos a cambiar este pais por los que riven en este pais" ("We're going to win. Little by little, we're going to change this country for those who live in this country"). As he left the stage, the Minnesotans joined in a rousing cheer of "Viva Bush!"

Transparent as it is, the illusion of inclusion is a winning strategy. Look how far it got the Democrats. In 1996, they invited anti-poverty activists to embrace welfare reform, arguing that we have to do away with anti-poverty programs in order to save them.

This year, the New Speak is even more dizzying.

At a panel on "Religious Leadership in the Public Square," co-hosted by the liberal Brookings Institution and the conservative Manhattan Institute, Republicans, Democrats, and civil rights activists all used the same terminology to describe their views.

"In the past, there was a naive view that government should just get out of the way," said Stephen Goldsmith, the Republican mayor of Indianapolis. "In Indianapolis, the problems of people whom prosperity has left behind are severe enough that the churches just couldn't take care of all their food needs, their shelter needs, their job training needs, and so on." Sounding like a cross between George W. Bush and Paul Wellstone, he declared, "Compassionate conservatism recognizes the need of government to provide the resources" to local groups that know best how to serve people.

The Reverend Eugene Rivers, an African American minister from Boston and an adviser to President Clinton on stopping gang violence, got cheers from black congregates at the Greater Exodus Baptist Church in Philadelphia when he denounced the Democrats for giving his community "crumbs." "The party in whose basket we put all our eggs ends up taking us for granted," he said. "Our end game must be changing children's lives, not playing partisan politics."