Must Have a Code

Two weeks ago, Sen. Joseph Lieberman used the lives of thousands of Americans as a bargaining chip. Of course, he did not phrase it that way. Instead, he threatened to join a Republican filibuster of any health-care reform bill that includes the choice of a government-run insurance plan, or “public option.” This could very well destroy the reform process entirely. Given that even Sen. Olympia Snowe, the most liberal Senate Republican, will likely filibuster such a bill as well, such a vote would defeat the proposal in the Senate.

As even the most conservative bill under discussion would provide health insurance for 29 million more people, it is reasonable to blame politicians who defeat any bill for these people’s lack of insurance. These spoilers would thus bear some responsibility for the 45,000 deaths associated with a lack of health insurance that would continue each year after.

One would think that Lieberman’s superiors in the Democratic caucus would punish an action this blatantly immoral. One would be wrong. Majority Leader Sen. Harry Reid has “respect for [Lieberman’s] views,” fellow Sen. Tom Carper told The Hill. “I don’t even know if this is a punishable offense,” an anonymous Senate Democratic aide mused.

What is, then, an offense worthy of reprimand for today’s congressional Democrats? Ask Rep. Alan Grayson ’78. The freshman Florida congressman has striven to inject a strong sense of morality into the health-care debate and other floor fights. He famously characterized the Republican approach to health care as “don’t get sick, and if you get sick, die quickly,” and has continually used his floor speeches to highlight the deaths that result from America’s lack of national health insurance.

As one would expect, he was bombarded by Republican criticism and calls to apologize. But rather than defending one of their own, some Democratic leaders piled on. “I would encourage Alan to apologize,” Democratic Caucus Chairman John Larson told Politico. “Is this news to you that this guy’s one fry short of a Happy Meal?” asked Rep. Anthony Weiner, who is, if anything, to the left of Grayson on health care. To their credit, Speaker of the House Rep. Nancy Pelosi and the White House refused to condemn Grayson, but the damage was already done.

Such is the role of morality in the health-care debate. While most intuitively understand that a world with universal health insurance would lead to fewer deaths, bankruptcies, and other misfortunes than the status quo, politicians like Grayson who emphasize this fact are dismissed by colleagues as crazy. Those who wish to entrench the current system—or ,perhaps worse, those like Lieberman who are willing to entrench it if to do so serves their own ends—are above reproach. Their opinions are “respected.” Their cravenness is not even a “punishable offense.”

To be sure, there is a place for number-driven, dispassionate discourse in debates such as this. If we did not have congressional aides and independent analysts to provide cost and impact estimates, it would be impossible for legislators to make informed, moral decisions. Indeed, the American discourse on foreign policy has shown the costs of a focus on supposed morality at the expense of actual consequences. For example, the Bush administration’s refusal to negotiate regularly with the Iranian government, while grounded in a generally sound moral judgment of that government’s character, had the practical effect of allowing the Iranian nuclear program to progress substantially. Insofar as dispassionate factual analysis prevents this sort of moral indignation as policy, it is worth encouraging.

A problem arises when these analyses come to be appreciated for their own sake instead of as a means to a greater moral end. When Lieberman tells reporters that he opposes a public option because it will “end up increasing the national debt,” he not only spouts incorrect facts—the CBO estimates that a strong public option would save $150 billion over ten years—but he also misses the point. An increase in national debt does not in itself lead to negative moral consequences. If the goals of the spending—such as providing health care to the currently uninsured—are sufficiently worthwhile, the net result is almost certainly positive. But Lieberman is not interested in these kinds of moral discussions. An increased national debt is worth avoiding for him, regardless of that spending’s real effects on the lives of Americans.

The problem with this kind of statistical fetishism is not the craven dishonesty. Lieberman does not care a whit about the national debt, of course, but political disingenuousness is too common to provoke real outrage. The danger lies in the systemic politeness that allows it to fester. Politicians who embrace this amoralism deserve rebuke from their leaders, not the nonchalance with which the Democratic leadership met Lieberman’s actions. And those like Grayson who challenge it deserve better than to hear their moral seriousness condemned as madness.

Dylan R. Matthews ’12, a Crimson editorial writer, lives in Kirkland House. His columns appear on alternate Tuesdays.