The single most universal truism in politics is that all politicians lie.

But the truth, no pun intended, is that the reality is far murkier than a profession that simply attracts the wrong type of people.

Don’t get me wrong—there are many politicians that flat out lie.  And not in the “we-all-do-it-white-lie” kind of way, but in the “lose-your-job-and-never-return” kind of way (see: Weiner, Anthony).

But this is not about those types of lying liars (credit: Al Franken). This is about the everyday needle-threading that occurs in politics, and how we as citizens see it through a singular lens.  And, hopefully, it is about how we can limit the cycle of dissembling that permeates all levels of government—if only in a small way.

How a Politician Works

We’re taught in grade school that there are essentially two models of how elected officials represent us.  The first is that we choose a leader based on their stated goals and principles.  We look at all of the available options, see which candidate is in most agreement with our own views, and vote for that person.  We then provide them with power and deference to make decisions based on that initial assessment, with a periodic review in the form of a re-election campaign.

The second is more of a small-r republican form of representation.  We elect someone to channel our collective will, whatever that may be.  They are simply the vessel by which that will is delivered into the policymaking process.  Taken to its most extreme, this could be done without a physical individual and instead with some form of instant universal referenda on every issue of substance.

As much as automation has taken over parts of the economy, we still haven’t chosen to send robots or algorithms to Washington, so we must deal with the human element.  Most elected officials seek office in order to achieve some particular basket of goals: maybe it’s to provide funding for some personal interest; maybe it’s to change a particular policy to send society into a different direction; or maybe, sadly but truly, it’s simply to gain power and the potential to accumulate wealth.  Whatever their motivations, they end up in public office with an internal task list of things to accomplish.

To the incumbent official, the ability to complete things on that task list is paramount; so too, by extension, is the need to remain in office.  Without the trappings and power of public office, there can be no success in any of those areas.  And therein lies the rub—does one keep their office by acting merely as a conduit for the vox populi, or by believing they have been empowered by the people to make their own, best judgment?

In general, with respect to how a politician actually votes, the truth is that we as voters hold politicians more to the small-r republican standard; they should vote as a majority of their constituents want them to vote.  But with respect to how much trust we place in them, we tend to apply the other, more personal standard.

So what is a politician to do?  

They are left to contortions that would make a pretzel jealous.

The most obvious examples of this are on issues where candidates have made significant positional changes.  Take same sex marriage.  Many prominent Democrats, including President Obama and Hillary Clinton, had long-held positions that marriage was between a man and a woman, and that same-sex couples had a right to the same civil protections of marriage, but not by the same name.  Given their positions on other LGBT and civil rights issues, many assumed that their opposition to marriage equality was one of political expediency; that once the general public was on the side of marriage equality, they finally felt the courage to express their support.

Whether or not they truly evolved on the issue is not necessarily pertinent at the moment.  On the one hand, it is difficult to buy into the idea that given their histories they ever truly opposed marriage equality.  On the other hand, I can personally see my own evolution on the matter from the early 2000s to today, and can actually believe that they too may have felt that way.  The point is the response to these positions illustrates the tension between these differing ideas of representation.

The principled politician is supposed to be one that has unchanging ideas.  The sky is blue, has always been blue, and will always be blue.  So too is their ideology.  Any change is seen as a self-serving “flip-flop” whose sole purpose is to cynically tell voters what they want to hear.  The representative politician is supposed to be listening to their constituents and doing their bidding.  We like to think that, as a society, we prefer the representative.  But the truth is we react to all politicians as if they are the principled type.  Any flip-flip is treated with disdain as opportunism, leaving no benefit of the doubt that the politician may actually be trying to follow the will of the people.  It must be said, though, that certainly there is some small degree of opportunism inherent here—losing an election prevents one from having the ability to make change in the future, so doing what one can to keep office is paramount.

This dynamic is further muddied by the increasing polarization of our political process.  There is a lot of new research that shows how much of the beliefs of partisans themselves are shaped by the leaders who have the red or blue jerseys on, regardless of previously-held principled beliefs.  This is a topic for more in-depth consideration in a future post, but one that cannot be ignored.

Lawyerly Precision

In addition to the tension between the representative models and how they shape a politician’s actions and our reactions to them, there is also the matter of how the source of most politicians—the legal profession—creates more assumptions within the electorate of untoward actions among our elected officials.  This is not to denigrate lawyers…but it is certainly the case that some of the very qualities that make for a good lawyer are also the qualities that cause non-lawyers to view their truth-telling with a skeptical eye.

The precise use of words can be viewed as conveying a falsity when they are simply attempting to thread a very tight needle that is technically true.  The fact that something is “technically true” is in and of itself reason enough to think there is some subterfuge going on.  The most clear recent example of this phenomenon is the interpretation of Senator Ted Cruz’s “poison pill” amendment to the comprehensive immigration reform bill (details found here).  In 2013, Cruz appeared to be open to the bill by offering an amendment that would deny citizenship for undocumented  immigrants but still provide for a path to legalization.  At the time it was unclear how the CIR bill would play out, and with the possibility that it could become law and be popular, Cruz was seen by many as trying to not oppose popular legislation.  But by the time he was running for president in 2015, and immigration reform was clearly a negative issue among Republican primary voters, he was able to use his same words and same actions to convey that he was actually trying to kill the bill.

Precise language can impart as much meaning as the speaker chooses, and politicians try to maximize meaning as much as possible.

Policy Efficacy in a World of Checks and Balances

One last, significant barrier to the trustworthiness of politicians is their ability to keep campaign promises.  In a political system with many checks and balances, this can be a problem fraught with landmines.  Checks and balances (at least in a healthy, operating system) naturally lead to compromise.  One side wants x, the other side wants y, and so together they work out z.  Each side gets some of what it wants, and both can claim victory.

But what of those campaign promises?  The candidate promised she would do x, and yet was only able to deliver z.  In the real world consequence, this is a victory.  But the truth is in returning to their voters, elected officials rarely come out and say “I promised you x, but the best I could do was provide z.” That is a recipe for a challenger the next election cycle, and voters will gladly throw out the old bum so that the new bum can provide x as promised.

To avoid this political conflict, the elected official will instead engage in a bit of revisionist history, attempting to redefine the original promise so as to appear to have delivered exactly what was promised.  This may come through a lawyerly parsing of their previous words, or an outright fabrication.  In any event, it is used as a survival technique.

To Thine Own Self Be True

So what are we to do?  Are we supposed to find more trustworthy characters and convince them to run for office?  Should we bar lawyers from being politicians?  Should we pay elected officials more in order to incentivize Regular Joes and Josephines to run?

Maybe.  But I think before we do any of that, we have to take a look inward.

First, we should be more open to the republican model of representation, and understand that our elected officials will have some disagreements with us, even if we belong to the same political party.  The idea that strict adherence to a political orthodoxy is a requirement for officials pigeonholes politicians into positions on issues that they would not necessarily hold themselves in private life, and also contributes to our ever-more-polarized climate.

Second, we as citizens need to recognize all of these points and how we react to actions by our elected officials.  If someone promised x but delivered z, how should we hold them accountable?  If what they provided is still within the principles by which we elected them, maybe our response should be to support their actions, rather than treat them as if they violated our trust.  That may then provide sufficient leeway for them to actually maintain our trust rather than undertaking some sort of revisionist history. 

The key here is the solution is with us.  We empower representatives to sort out the difficult issues of the day for us.  So we need to actually empower them to do the things that are necessary, and provide them enough leeway that they are not forced into threading a verbal, legal needle that comes across as, at best, twisting the truth and at worst, outright lying.