The New York Times editorial board’s decision on Sunday to hand out dual endorsements—to Sens. Elizabeth Warren and Amy Klobuchar—was notable not just for its indecisive nature but also for the reasons offered in declining to support others in the Democratic field.
The Times was kind in its non-endorsement of Joe Biden, stating merely that his recipe for political restoration was not enough to address our current malodies. The paper’s take on Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-VT) was much harsher but also—inexplicably—ill-informed.
Sanders, the editorial board wrote, was an “over-promising, divisive figure” akin to the man he was seeking to replace: Donald Trump. “He boasts that compromise is anathema to him,” the explanation went. “Only his prescriptions can be the right ones, even though most are overly rigid, untested and divisive.”
ADVERTISEMENT
Questions of Sanders’ “divisiveness” have always been tricky. A self-described, unapologetic democratic socialist certainly seems like the cutout of a candidate who would alienate a good chunk of the country. And yet, Sanders is one of the consistently more popular Democrats in America. The popularity may be owed to the reluctance Sanders’ primary opponents have had with attacking him. But while his favorability numbers have dipped this cycle, they remain on par with, if not better than, others running.
Where the Times really missed, however, was with the notion that Sanders is uncompromising in nature. Indeed, Sanders’ history in Congress is that of an ideologue who, time and again, manages to either get to yes or, ultimately, get out of the way.
During the crafting of Obamacare, for instance, Sanders remained committed to the proposition that single-payer health care made the most logical outcome for reform. But he never was nihilistic about it. As the legislation was crafted, he held out his vote, pushing for a public option for health-insurance coverage. And when that didn’t come, he demanded money for community health clinics instead. Through it all, the White House never seriously considered him a threat to torpedo the entire enterprise if he didn’t get his way.
“He committed late but the assumption always was that he was negotiating for the best deal he could get and would be there at the end,” recalled David Axelrod, Obama’s chief strategist at the time.
Indeed, in leadership circles, Sanders was viewed as more of a team player than the centrists in the party. “Say what you will about Senator Sanders but he never blindsided the Democratic leadership, not once,” said Jim Manley, former Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid’s top comms hand during Obamacare’s crafting and passage. “I think it is fair to say that Senator Reid had to worry more about some folks, like Senator [Ben] Nelson and [Joe] Lieberman, than Senator Sanders.”
Another case of Sanders staking out a maximalist position only to make some accommodation came during the same year as Obamacare’s passage. A bipartisan deal to extend the Bush tax cuts had been negotiated by then-Vice President Joe Biden and then-Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-KY) and Sanders took to the Senate floor to rail against its passage. The resulting filibuster became grist for the senator’s progressive star turn; casting him as one of the few non-accommodationists in the party ranks. In reality, Sanders had privately worked with leadership to ensure that his protest didn’t spill over into something much larger.
“He drew a hard line in the sand and then made a compromise with Senator Reid to avoid a shutdown,” Manley recalled. “In a conversation with Senator Reid in the cloakroom he agreed to stand down because he didn’t want to be accused of shutting down the Senate.”
When Democrats lost their majority in the Senate in 2014, legislative productivity stalled. But even in this climate, Sanders managed to author one of the few bipartisan breakthroughs. In the backdrop of a national scandal over wait times at VAs, he and Senator John McCain (R-AZ) put together a reform package that allowed veterans greater options for accessing private insurers—an outcome anathema to Sanders’ ideological disposition and one that Trump himself has routinely (and erroneously) claimed credit for.
Reflecting on it in 2015, Sanders called himself a “pragmatist,” a description that McCain largely endorsed.
“Negotiating with Bernie was not a usual experience, because he is very passionate and he and I are both very strong-willed people and we spend a lot of time banging our fists on the table and having the occasional four-letter word,” McCain told me. “But at the end of the day, Bernie was result-oriented.”
After Trump’s election, Sanders has found himself at the vanguard of some unorthodox bipartisan foreign policy measures, including a partnership with Sen. Mike Lee (R-UT) on ending U.S. involvement in Yemen’s civil war. And as he has expanded his national profile further he has done so with an eye on not creating more headaches for his political allies.
During the summer months of 2017, he held off on plans to barnstorm for Medicare for All legislation after Minority Leader Chuck Schumer (D-NY) asked him to instead help keep the party’s focus on beating back Obamacare repeal efforts. Notably, Sanders became one of the few caucusing Democrats to go into Republican states to defend the ACA.
This, of course, is hardly the work product of a lawmaker who—in the New York Times’ editorial board’s telling—believes that “only his prescriptions can be the right ones.” But, to a certain degree, the paper could be excused for making the mistake. After all, the senator himself has carefully crafted a persona as someone who won’t bend on matters of morality—of which, he stresses, public policy is made. And his supporters don’t just echo his absolutism, they amplify it, casting everyone who falls short of Bernie (and, in this world, everyone falls short) as a corporate shill or an establishment hack.
During this campaign, for instance, Sanders has chastised his opponents for not embracing Medicare for All, calling measures like a public option insufficient half-measures. Left unmentioned is that Sanders’ co-sponsored a state-based Medicaid public option measure just a few years ago, only to take his name off the bill before launching his presidential bid. (Warren, by contrast, continues to be a co-sponsor despite having advocated for Medicare for All as well).
Sanders’ posture makes sense in the context of a primary campaign, which can often become ideological purity tests. But it’s not without its risks. Those risks aren’t just seen in the loss of newspaper endorsements (which have limited value, if any at all). Elsewhere in the party, Sanders decision to cast himself as an unbending progressive—while glossing over the compromises he’s actually made—has sparked serious backlash. There is eye rolling at the perceived sanctimony of it all, of course. But there is also fear that Sanders is setting up a large swath of voters for massive disappointment: either in his loss or in the legislative compromises he will inevitably have to make should he end up actually being elected president.
