By Paul Waldman
Columnist
Today at 1:28 p.m. EDT
Listen to article
5 min
Now that it has ended, one way to look at Texas Gov. Greg Abbott’s scheme to require extra inspections of commercial trucks crossing the southern border is that it was a disaster, inane in its design and nearly catastrophic in its effects.
Sign up for a weekly roundup of thought-provoking ideas and debates
But when seen in combination with another governor’s attack on what conservatives used to reverentially call “free enterprise” — Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis’s war on Disney — it looks more like the beginning of a new paradigm for Republican political economy.
Central to this shift is a genuine change: Republicans are no longer accepting as a given that state actions that harm the economy — even intentionally — are necessarily politically risky.
Nevertheless, Abbott’s move, which required a second inspection of trucks performed by the state after one by federal Customs and Border Protection agents, was one of the most remarkable policy face-plants in memory.
Abbott claimed the action was necessary because the Biden administration wasn’t stopping the flow of drugs and migrants over the border. So how many undocumented immigrants and pounds of drugs did the extra inspections intercept? Zero. Not a single immigrant, not a speck of drugs.
They did, however, cause massive backlogs at the border. Produce rotted in trucks, orders were delayed, and the effects cascaded out to the rest of the country. According to a Texas-based economic analysis firm, Abbott’s stunt cost the state’s economy more than $4 billion; the cost to the U.S. economy was estimated at $9 billion.
In this case, the damage was vivid and immediate. That might have hastened the moment when he decided the political costs outweighed the benefits for him in demagoguing about the border, something tough-talking poseurs such as Abbott have long relished. But doing it in the first place showed a willingness to do harm to his state’s economy to make a political point.
It’s hard to overstate how reluctant politicians ordinarily are to do such a thing. There’s a shared belief among Democrats and Republicans that if anything they do comes to be seen as an economic drag — such as letting a factory close, or raising the sales tax — then voters will punish them ruthlessly.
But now look at DeSantis, who has waged his vendetta against Disney for opposing his "don’t say gay" legislation with an almost manic glee.
The effects of the bill DeSantis signed to revoke a special self-governing arrangement enjoyed by Disney World are still unclear, but it’s likely to mean hundreds of millions of dollars worth of new obligations for the surrounding counties. That could mean a hike in property taxes.
Even though the revocation doesn’t take effect until next summer, and might be struck down by the courts (legal analysts say it’s blatantly unconstitutional), what’s new and striking is the governor’s willingness to attack the state’s most iconic corporation, one that employs tens of thousands of Floridians and brings in billions of tourist dollars to the state every year.
But DeSantis clearly believes that not only can he get away with it, in the end it will be good for him. There must be some threshold of economic damage he can do to the state that the voters will not tolerate, but wherever it lies, he thinks this won’t reach it. While in the past the threat of economic damage acted as a brake on a governor’s willingness to use state power to attack his enemies, that’s less true today.
It’s possible for DeSantis to make that calculation for a few reasons. First, at a moment of extreme polarization and intense culture war politics, some people might accept economic harm to themselves and their state if it serves another goal they have, such as "owning the libs."
Second, people have a remarkable ability to conclude that anything good that happens with the economy can be attributed to their own party, and anything bad can be attributed to the other party, even if any reasonable assessment of the facts would prove otherwise.
Advertisement
Finally, Republicans are showing that they don’t actually believe in the economic principles they claimed to hold for so long. Once you cast them aside, you’re liberated to be as vindictive as you like.
Republican antagonism toward what they now call “woke corporations” has gone from bitter grumbling to state action. Critically, what arouses their ire is almost entirely brand-management efforts that involve public displays of sympathy for liberal social ideas.
Which is why they’re going after corporations one at a time, not changing their fundamental views on capital. They’re still all for corporations being able to spend unlimited amounts to influence elections, the narrowest possible regulations on companies befouling the environment, the lowest corporate taxes, nonexistent enforcement of worker safety laws, and any efforts to crush collective bargaining. Such privileges, however, can and will be withdrawn from a specific corporation unless they either stay quiet or support conservatives and their vision of social retrogression.
Advertisement
But this is all relatively new, and the limits of the acceptable are still being tested. Abbott found that broad sabotage of his state’s economy was a terrible idea. Perhaps if he had just gone after a few “woke” avocado importers he might not have had to pull back so quickly. DeSantis, meanwhile, is basking in the glow of nationwide conservative adoration.
Rest assured, other Republicans are watching carefully as they contemplate which companies they might attack in their own states. This trend is just getting started.
Columnist
Today at 1:28 p.m. EDT
Listen to article
5 min
Now that it has ended, one way to look at Texas Gov. Greg Abbott’s scheme to require extra inspections of commercial trucks crossing the southern border is that it was a disaster, inane in its design and nearly catastrophic in its effects.
Sign up for a weekly roundup of thought-provoking ideas and debates
But when seen in combination with another governor’s attack on what conservatives used to reverentially call “free enterprise” — Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis’s war on Disney — it looks more like the beginning of a new paradigm for Republican political economy.
Central to this shift is a genuine change: Republicans are no longer accepting as a given that state actions that harm the economy — even intentionally — are necessarily politically risky.
Nevertheless, Abbott’s move, which required a second inspection of trucks performed by the state after one by federal Customs and Border Protection agents, was one of the most remarkable policy face-plants in memory.
Abbott claimed the action was necessary because the Biden administration wasn’t stopping the flow of drugs and migrants over the border. So how many undocumented immigrants and pounds of drugs did the extra inspections intercept? Zero. Not a single immigrant, not a speck of drugs.
They did, however, cause massive backlogs at the border. Produce rotted in trucks, orders were delayed, and the effects cascaded out to the rest of the country. According to a Texas-based economic analysis firm, Abbott’s stunt cost the state’s economy more than $4 billion; the cost to the U.S. economy was estimated at $9 billion.
In this case, the damage was vivid and immediate. That might have hastened the moment when he decided the political costs outweighed the benefits for him in demagoguing about the border, something tough-talking poseurs such as Abbott have long relished. But doing it in the first place showed a willingness to do harm to his state’s economy to make a political point.
It’s hard to overstate how reluctant politicians ordinarily are to do such a thing. There’s a shared belief among Democrats and Republicans that if anything they do comes to be seen as an economic drag — such as letting a factory close, or raising the sales tax — then voters will punish them ruthlessly.
But now look at DeSantis, who has waged his vendetta against Disney for opposing his "don’t say gay" legislation with an almost manic glee.
The effects of the bill DeSantis signed to revoke a special self-governing arrangement enjoyed by Disney World are still unclear, but it’s likely to mean hundreds of millions of dollars worth of new obligations for the surrounding counties. That could mean a hike in property taxes.
Even though the revocation doesn’t take effect until next summer, and might be struck down by the courts (legal analysts say it’s blatantly unconstitutional), what’s new and striking is the governor’s willingness to attack the state’s most iconic corporation, one that employs tens of thousands of Floridians and brings in billions of tourist dollars to the state every year.
But DeSantis clearly believes that not only can he get away with it, in the end it will be good for him. There must be some threshold of economic damage he can do to the state that the voters will not tolerate, but wherever it lies, he thinks this won’t reach it. While in the past the threat of economic damage acted as a brake on a governor’s willingness to use state power to attack his enemies, that’s less true today.
It’s possible for DeSantis to make that calculation for a few reasons. First, at a moment of extreme polarization and intense culture war politics, some people might accept economic harm to themselves and their state if it serves another goal they have, such as "owning the libs."
Second, people have a remarkable ability to conclude that anything good that happens with the economy can be attributed to their own party, and anything bad can be attributed to the other party, even if any reasonable assessment of the facts would prove otherwise.
Advertisement
Finally, Republicans are showing that they don’t actually believe in the economic principles they claimed to hold for so long. Once you cast them aside, you’re liberated to be as vindictive as you like.
Republican antagonism toward what they now call “woke corporations” has gone from bitter grumbling to state action. Critically, what arouses their ire is almost entirely brand-management efforts that involve public displays of sympathy for liberal social ideas.
Which is why they’re going after corporations one at a time, not changing their fundamental views on capital. They’re still all for corporations being able to spend unlimited amounts to influence elections, the narrowest possible regulations on companies befouling the environment, the lowest corporate taxes, nonexistent enforcement of worker safety laws, and any efforts to crush collective bargaining. Such privileges, however, can and will be withdrawn from a specific corporation unless they either stay quiet or support conservatives and their vision of social retrogression.
Advertisement
But this is all relatively new, and the limits of the acceptable are still being tested. Abbott found that broad sabotage of his state’s economy was a terrible idea. Perhaps if he had just gone after a few “woke” avocado importers he might not have had to pull back so quickly. DeSantis, meanwhile, is basking in the glow of nationwide conservative adoration.
Rest assured, other Republicans are watching carefully as they contemplate which companies they might attack in their own states. This trend is just getting started.
