Improvements on Dickens

Apparently Hollywood agrees with at least some of my criticisms of A Christmas Carol, because among the many variations on this done-to-death movie are two that (to my mind) significantly improve on its shortcomings. One is Ms. Scrooge, starring Cicely Tyson. The other is Scrooged, starring Bill Murray. Both have modern-day settings.

Aside from the novelty of a black, female Scrooge (Ebenita instead of Ebeneezer), Ms. Scrooge vastly improves on showing the title character's past and how she became what she is today. (It also avoids the foolish conceit of pretending all important events in her past took place on Christmas and simply shows her past in general). She begins as a poor black girl growing up in the South. Her father gives her a puppy for Christmas and she thinks she is the luckiest girl in the world. He is a veteran of WWII and hopes between his savings and a GI loan to start a gas station. Benita (short for Ebenita) innocently offers all her allowance she has been saving up. Thus we learn she was attached to money from a very young age, though not yet pathologically so. We see him boycotted, harassed and threatened by white neighbors who don't want a black man to succeed, and then Ebenita says, "No, spirit, don't make me see this." The spirit shows her the day her father's gas station was fire bombed and he was killed.

As soon as she is old enough Ebenita flees as far from the South as she can -- to Minneapolis in her case. She arrives flat broke with no family or friends in town, desperate for any job and walks into the clutches of Maude Marley. This is the only version of the story I have seen that really explores Scrooge's relationship with Marley. Its take is revealing. Marley is a predatory lender who squeezes the poor. At first she is going to turn Scrooge away, but Benita begs for a job and says she is good with money, why her father used to call her "stingy Bingy." That interests Marley. Besides, Marley sees how desperate Scrooge is an squeezes her as ruthlessly as she squeezes her clients. Scrooge hates her. And we get to see the old Scrooge watching her young self, remembering for the first time in years just how shabbily Marley treated her and just how much she hated her -- and now she has become just like her.

And we actually get to see Scrooge becoming like Marley over time. She squeezes the poor, at first because she has no choice if she wants a paycheck, but over time she starts putting more conviction in it. Marley notices, recognizes Scrooge might take her talents elsewhere, and starts giving her promotions. Scrooge starts liking her promotions, even if she still hates Marley. Her boyfriend begins to be concerned, doesn't like what she is becoming, asks her to marry him and move with him to Atlanta. And we see this really is the turning point in Scrooge's life when she gives up love for money, and when she chooses to be just like Marley.

The present and future are not significantly different than the original and add nothing to our insight. But actually seeing Scrooge become Scrooge and watching her relive the process, realize how much she once hated what she has become, and recognize what she has missed -- all this makes her conversion much more believable than Dickens' version.

Bill Murray's version focuses less on generosity to the poor than on putting one's loved ones and relationships ahead of money, but the story works reasonably well on that level. Bill Murray is a cold, hard-fisted TV executive put in charge of broadcasting a live version of A Christmas Carol. The live broadcast is wildly implausible, but is a necessary excuse why the studio can't cut him off when he interrupts the show at the end to give his maudlin lecture on the real meaning of Christmas. It does a much better job than the original of integrating past, present and future into one continuing stream.

For one thing, the present is not just something Scrooge goes on a tour of; it is something he is living right here and now. That is to some degree the case in the original; we have to see Scrooge in action to know what he is like, after all. But in Scrooged, the tours the spirits offer take up only part of our protagonist's time; in between he is busy with the business of everyday life. And we see a man who is hard-hearted and greedy, but not totally lost to human feeling. His younger brother is trying to stay in touch, but he is making that difficult. And Bill Murray himself looks up his old girlfriend Claire, who has not married someone else, and who now works at the homeless shelter, and finds that she still thinks of him as an old friend. So even without the intervention of the Spirits, Scrooge is not altogether dead to feeling; there are still two people who he loves.

In our tour of the past, we see his past with the two. We see his childhood, how he protected his younger brother from their tyrannical father, how his brother called him, "the best brother a kid ever had." We see how he met Claire, how they met, how they were happy together for a time, and how he lost her, as well as that she is still fond of him. We see that in the present, he is really poised on a knife's edge. What he does may determine whether he and his brother drift apart altogether, and whether he can get back with Claire. And in the future -- well, we see Dickens' old routine about dying alone and unmourned. And we see him drifting apart from the people he still loves. But we also see something worse, and the more powerful because it is unexpected. We see that Scrooge's worst fate isn't losing Claire -- it's corrupting her and making her as cold and uncaring as he is. Now there's a horror that he is truly ready to go to any length to prevent. And seeing his reformation come from the fear of losing -- or worse, corrupting -- the two people he still loves gives it a continuity or character, and a plausibility utterly lacking in the original.

When we get close to the end of January, I will have to do a post on Groundhog Day as A Christmas Carol done right.

Why I Hate A Christmas Carol

The most done to death movie in all Hollywood must be Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol. A new version comes out every Christmas season, so done to death that producers desperately look for some new twist to give it some hint of originality. The reason it is so done to death is obvious -- its seasonal nature makes it a natural to keep redoing. But if Hollywood has to do a movie to death, couldn't they start out with one that had some life to begin with?

So what's the problem with A Christmas Carol? More than anything else, every time I see it, I come away with the feeling that Dickens has done poor old Scrooge a great wrong – he’s violated his character. Every time the latest version ends up with the cuddly, lovable Scrooge at the end, I keep missing the mean guy at the beginning. Flat and cardboard cutout as he was, the mean Scrooge at least seemed more genuine than that awful impostor. The mean Scrooge was at least himself.

This may seem like an odd criticism. After all, aren’t some of the best works of literature about people undergoing character development and becoming someone better and more human at the end than they were at the beginning? Yes, but that’s not what happened to Scrooge. To undergo character development, you have to have some depth and texture of character to begin with. Now, granted, some fictitious characters who undergo development initially seem as cardboard as Scrooge. Part of their character development is discovering that the cardboard cutout is just a facade, that they are a lot more complex than they appear on the surface. This, in turn, leads to an exploration of why they have chosen to present such a two-dimensional front to the rest of the world, to rediscovery, in many cases, what they have hidden even from themselves. It means breaking through their defense mechanisms, and discovering why the rewards of their three-dimensional self outweigh whatever advantage they saw in presenting only two dimensions to the world.

This is precisely what does not happen with Scrooge. He does not develop any depth or texture; he simply flips over from a cardboard cutout curmudgeon to a cardboard cutout saint. There is nothing really wrong with having cardboard cutout characters; there simply is not enough room in fiction to give most characters the complexity of a real person, after all. But if you are going to draw characters as cardboard cutouts, then they have to stay fixed and unchanging. To flip them over into a new cardboard cutout is not character development at all, just character violation.

Furthermore, really convincing character development necessarily takes place slowly over time, with the character taking an active role in his or her redemption. Scrooge does nothing of the kind. He starts out as a simple caricature of a mean old miser. When the three Spirits come along, he sits as essentially a passive audience to their Christmas pageant, and then emerges as a totally different character. In fairness to Dickens, Scrooge is allowed some minimal reaction to what he is seeing, and we do see his turning point. He greets Marley’s ghost and the Spirit of Christmas Past with hostility, but after seeing his past, he is duly stricken with remorse. From then on, he humbly approaches the other spirits, eager to learn whatever lesson they may have for him.

Most productions of A Christmas Carol therefore give more attention to Christmas Past than Christmas Present and Christmas Yet to Come, and rightly so. It is by understanding Scrooge’s past that we can understand how he got to be what he is today and how he can change. Only Dickens does nothing of the kind. Instead of allowing us to understand how Scrooge became what he is today, which would have given him some depth and texture and made his conversion more plausible, Dickens simply shows us four set-pieces, each with its neat little moral for Scrooge to learn. First we see him as a poor boy. (Moral: The poor are people too). Second, we see good master Fezziwig throw a real Christmas party. (Moral: This is what you should have done). Third, we see Scrooge's girlfriend leave him over his greed. (Moral: This is what you lost because of your greed). Finally, we see her happily married with many children the night Marley died. (Moral: This is what you could have had if you had made other decisions). What we don’t see is any indication how Scrooge really got to be Scrooge.

Furthermore, Scrooge’s past shows no apparently connection with his present.* His present admittedly does logically lead to his future. But what future is he supposed to fear? When we first meet Marley's ghost, the implication is damnation, being doomed to wander the earth as a ghost in chains. Later on, we see a more secular doom -- the prospect of dying alone and unmourned.** That's all right so far as it goes, but it is, after all, just a more secularized version of warning Scrooge to mend his ways or face the hellfire. Either way, he is being brought to change by threats, the most superficial form of character development. Real character development would come not from the threat of some terrible future, but from Scrooge looking at his present and seeing just how empty it really is -- and realizing that the future holds nothing but more of the same. Once a character realized that, we can say he has experienced real development.

In short, we are shown a cardboard cutout caricature of a miser and misanthrope, shown four neat little skits of his past, each with a lesson, and threatened with dying alone and unmourned unless he mends his ways. He then flips over into a totally different, but less convincing, cardboard cutout and they all live happily ever after. No wonder Hollywood gets tired of that same story each year! In my next post, I will discuss two modified versions that (I think) significantly improve on the original, and have no doubt much influenced the above post.

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*The one exception is his nephew, who is the son of Scrooge's sister, now deceased, who we met in the first skit of his past.

**Scrooge is rather annoyingly obtuse about the unnamed man who has just died alone and unmourned. On the other hand, denial can be a powerful thing, so maybe that part is more plausible than I give it credit for.

Has Goldwater Been Vindicated?

It’s an honest question because, not being old enough to remember Goldwater’s run for President, I really don’t know. Conventional conservative wisdom is that, sure, Goldwater lost by a landslide to Lyndon B. Johnson, but he has since been vindicated as his social vision of limited government and foreign policy belligerence (anybody see a contradiction there?) was later adopted under Ronald Reagan and now stands triumphant everywhere. Conventional liberal wisdom isn't all that different. But is it true?

Here is where I could use some perspective from people who remember Goldwater. My impression is that what alarmed people so much about Goldwater was three things, (1) he opposed Civil Rights legislation, (2) he thought we were too squeamish about using nuclear weapons, and (3) he wanted to escalate the war in Vietnam. So, has he been vindicated? Well, on civil rights, definitely not. There seems to be a general consensus that, whatever his merits on other issues, Goldwater was dead wrong about civil rights. On nuclear weapons, given that we have not used them since, and that we nonetheless managed to win the Cold War, I don’t think anyone could say he was vindicated.* On Vietnam, we ended up taking Goldwater’s advice and escalating, and it didn’t go so well. To this day, people dispute whether that means that escalation was a mistake in the first place, or whether it just shows we didn’t escalate enough, and Goldwater would have done it right. So if these were Goldwater’s three big issues, he got two wrong, while one remains controversial. That hardly seems like vindication.

But what about limited government? Well, our top tax rates have gone down since 1964, but government revenue and spending as a share of the economy has not. I don’t honestly know if Goldwater promised to roll back the New Deal, but I do know that both Ronald Reagan and Newt Gingrich essentially promised that and neither got very far. Those New Deal Era programs like Social Security, deposit insurance, farm subsidies, the SEC and so forth are still there, and most of them remain popular, even among people who hate “government.” Nor did Goldwater triumph even over Johnson’s Great Society enacted in the wake of his victory. After all, Medicare, Medicaid, Food Stamps were Great Society programs, and neither Reagan nor Gingrich succeeded in rolling them back, either.** One possible triumph Goldwater may claim was in the rollback of much “economic” regulation, in the sense of regulations of routine economic decisions like hauling rates for trains or trucks and fares for planes. But there had been a parallel increase in environmental and consumer protection regulation, so ultimately our economy is neither more nor less regulated than in 1964, but merely differently regulated.

So I don’t really see Goldwater as being vindicated in the sense that any of his policy preferences as of 1964 being enacted. I will concede he has been vindicated in the sense of being an early signal of a change in mood. “Liberal” has become a dirty word. “Government spending” is considered the ultimate evil to be massively cut, even if no one has yet figured out how to make any actual cuts palatable. And boasting how much you will hurt and punish everyone who is not like us has shown itself to be a highly successful electoral strategy. But how much of that is really a vindication of Goldwater?

So far as I can tell, two main factors have been at work in creating our more conservative mood. One is a reaction against the excesses of the ‘60’s. Opponents of the Vietnam War really did engage in a lot of unpatriotic behavior that offended a lot of people’s deep seated values and created a serious backlash. (Are you listening, Occupy Wall Street?) The other was the rise of the Religious Right. And few people were so sharply critical of the Religious Right than Goldwater. Goldwater strongly disapproved legislating religious views. He said all good Christians should kick Jerry Falwell in the ass. He saw no reason to deny gays equal rights to serve in the military. He favored medical marijuana. He even opposed restrictions on abortion. Today's conservatism quite simply means strong leanings toward theocracy. Goldwater's conservatism meant nothing of the kind.

Ultimately, therefore, it seems a stretch to me to say that Goldwater has been vindicated. But I am open to opposing arguments.

Are Professors Humble or Arrogant?

A large part of Newt Gingrich's appeal among the anti-intellectual wing of the Republican Party appears to be (surprisingly) that he's an intellectual, or at least can play one on TV. They eagerly look forward to him beating Obama at his know-it-all game. This raises two obvious questions -- Why to right wingers hate intellectuals so much? And, given that they do, why do they want an intellectual as their champion. This commentator thinks it is a failure to understand the humility of real intellectuals. "In fact, anyone who actually has met (say) a college professor knows that most are earnest, deeply knowledgeable in their field while cautious about the inherent limits of human knowledge, open to differing opinions while instinctively skeptical toward crackpot ideas. Of course there are exceptions but as a rule true scholarship leads to humility, not arrogance."

With all due respect, that shows a certain lack of reality about how ordinary citizens encounter college professors and other experts. Ordinary citizens don't see someone being humble about their knowledge outside their field, or humbly and painstakingly peer reviewing with professional colleagues. Ordinary citizens claiming the mantle of expertise in their given field and dismissing the views of non-experts as worthless. Ordinary citizens see their gut-level intuition distained as lacking rigor. Ordinary citizens see experts saying I am right and you are wrong as a matter of scientific fact. They don't see the humble process of investigation and research in reaching these conclusions. only the final outcome, and the contempt experts have for people who haven't put in the work they did in reaching their conclusions. And, yes, it does come across as arrogant.

A fine example of this sort of arrogance might be:

An argument that judgment matters but knowledge does not is profoundly anti-intellectual. It implies that we do not need ever to learn anything in order make mature decisions. We can just proceed off some simple ideological template and apply it to everything. This sort of thinking is part of what is wrong with this country. We wouldn’t call a man in to fix our plumbing who knew nothing about plumbing, but we call pundits to address millions of people on subjects about which they know nothing of substance.

Or, to take a milder version, consider Jon Stewart's remark, "Is that not the purpose of education vis a vis belief structures? To replace your belief structure with facts?"

Yet at the same time, the Republican base is very eager to have one of these arrogant know-it-alls as their standard bearer. This leads me to believe the right wingers' real objection to intellectuals is not their offensive sense of intellectual superiority, but the fact that that offensive sense of intellectual superiority is always employed against conservatives and never for them. Obviously right wingers do respect scientific expertise (hence the constant attempt to dress, say, creationism, up in scientific garb). And they eagerly look forward to having it in their corner for a change.

Which does lead me to one suggestion about how to soften right wing hostility toward intellectuals. As we all know, conservatives greatly value hard work and achievement. That is why they are great champions of wealth -- the rich earned their wealth; they deserve to keep it. Well, then, why not pitch knowledge and expertise as a form of wealth. After all, some people are born into wealth, but everyone is born with a knowledge base of zero.* Experts worked hard for their knowledge and deserve to be respected for it. Don't just stand on your credentials; explain the sort of work that went into them. And not just studying so many years at such and such a university; explain the lab experiments you did, the archives you investigated, or whatever. And if you are offering an expert opinion on a subject, explain all the work you did to reach it. Claims to expert knowledge will be less resented if you can prove they are earned.
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*I know, it's not that simple. Being born into an intellectual family and community that encourages learning is a major head start. But we're talking about people who can't acknowledge that wealth might be anything other than a reflection of merit. Is it so much to ask the same respect for knowledge?

How Much Do Debates Tell Us?

Clearly we have gotten to the point where election campaigns are defined largely by debates. This is a venerable American tradition, going back to Lincoln-Douglas. It also has the advantage of at least being better than 30-second ads. Other than that, how much are debates worth? Are they simply demonstrations of verbal facility, or do they show something more substantive?

I suppose my answer would be both. Skill at public speaking has not always been an essential trait in a President. Thomas Jefferson was both brilliant and a master of language (as his writings show), but he was shy about public speaking. During two terms, he gave two public speeches -- his first and second inaugural addresses. Nor did he address Congress directly or hold formal public receptions. He tried as much as possible to stay out of the public eye, considering it un-republican for an executive to make a display of himself. Yet he was quite probably our strongest and most influential President ever because he had extraordinary moral authority with his party and could count on it to do whatever he suggested. No modern-day President could possibly govern in this fashion. Giving public speeches, offering symbolic leadership, and using the bully pulpit have been part of the President's job since Teddy Roosevelt's day. Any modern day President who behaved like Jefferson would be considered derelict in his duties. So some public speaking ability is essential to a modern-day President.

But, as Republicans love to point out, any idiot can read off the teleprompter. Debate is more spontaneous than giving a formal public speech. How important is it? To take a far less grandiose example than Jefferson, the senior Bush was every bit as inarticulate as his son, but no one ever thought he was stupid. So what is it we are testing in a debate? And how important is it?

I believe the answer is that we want a President who understands the foremost public issues of the day (at least in their broad outline) and can formulate intelligent policy responses to them. The debates are based on the assumption that anyone who understands the foremost issues and can develop intelligent policy responses should be able to articulate that understanding and response. Furthermore, to show that the candidate is not just reciting someone else's canned phrases, we put them into a not-entirely-rehearsed format and ask the candidate to respond to challenges.

Now I will grant, there may be flaws to this approach. It is at least theoretically possible for a candidate to have a good grasp of policy but be poor at putting it into words. Although in that case, we might worry, not just about how such a President would communicate with the public, but also with subordinates. And more importantly, a candidate might have a good policy understanding and just not be good at thinking fast on his (or her) feet. It is by no means clear to me that thinking fast on your feet is an important quality in a President. But just as asking candidates to articulate their understanding of policy is the best test we have of whether they have it, asking them to think on their feet is the best test we have for weeding out candidates who are just reading the teleprompter.

There may be a better format for this than debates. If so, I would love to hear it.

A Stroll Down Memory Lane

At the risk of dating myself, this post will be about my economics text book my freshman year of college. The copyright dates are 1979 and 1982. What it says about macroeconomics is interesting.

The primary viewpoint is simple Keynesian. There is a tradeoff between inflation and unemployment. We can choose what we want that tradeoff to be. The best way to counteract the business cycle is by increasing or decreasing government spending. (On what gets little emphasis). The tradeoff between inflation and unemployment is on the demand side. It does acknowledge the possibility (at the time, the reality) of stagflation from supply side shocks, specifically increases in oil prices.

As a sort of counterpoint, it also introduced the monetarist theories of Milton Friedman. Friedman emphasized nominal, rather than real, GNP (that’s gross national product; gross domestic product was not generally accepted at the time), which was determined by money supply times velocity. It also ended up sort of walking back the tradeoff between inflation and unemployment. There is a natural level of unemployment. Measures to bring unemployment to that level cause very little inflation. Any attempt to lower beyond that does no good and just causes inflation.

The book focuses a lot on inflation. This was at the end of the ‘70’s, after all, and inflation was a big problem. It ends up concluding that high inflation is here to stay, that there is not much we can do about it, and discusses strategies for coping. As interesting as what my text discusses is what it does not discuss. Its entire discussion of deflation is a single paragraph saying that deflation no longer happens and it is not sure why. There is no discussion of asset bubbles or credit bubbles. In the 1970’s stock prices were stagnant and bubbles were the last thing on people’s minds. Besides, at the time most people held the illusion that bubbles (at least serious ones) were a thing of the past, and that we had conquered them by tough financial regulation.

I will also recount my reaction to all of it. By and large, it was very enlightening because I didn’t have most of these concepts before. In particular, I did not have the concept that a recession or depression is an economy falling below capacity, or even shrinking. I knew that everyone was getting poorer, but was utterly stumped where the wealth was going. Nor did I have the concept that inflation results when an economy strains against its capacity. I certainly did not have the concept that constraint on money could hurt the real economy.

Interestingly enough, the one concept I did sort of have was velocity. In puzzling over the Great Depression and wondering where all the money went, one thought that did occur to me was that it just was still there, just not circulating so fast. Basically true. It did also confirm two things I knew anyhow from high school economics. One was that the economy suffers if people stash their money under the mattress instead of putting it in a bank where it can be loaned out and invested. The other was one I figured out in response to teachers who said Germany and Japan had the “advantage” over us of having their industrial base blown up in WWII, so they could start out with newer plant. My thought was, couldn’t you get equally good results by less drastic methods, like regularly investing in upgrades. The answer, of course, was yes.

Given the choice between Keynes and monetarism, I preferred Keynes. The most obvious reason was because that was what we had learned and it was uncomfortable rearranging the furniture in my head. Another reason was that I really didn’t understand money and finance; the workings of the real economy just seemed more, well, real. Also, Keynes focused on real GNP and Friedman on nominal GNP. I couldn’t understand why anyone cared about nominal GNP; wasn’t it what was really produced that mattered? Friedman said the central bank could always expand the nominal GNP by printing more money. But everyone knew that. What good was nominal GNP expansion if it just consisted of inflation?

We were expected to write a term paper about a macroeconomic subject. I wrote about the causes of the Great Depression because it was a subject that had long baffled me. In researching the subject, I read four works representing two outlooks. One was a left wing outlook that the Depression was caused by income inequality. Economic growth was concentrated too heavily at the top and therefore went disproportionately into investment instead of consumption. This led to lots of stuff being produced and not enough people who could afford it. The speculative bubble arose when productive investment stopped paying off, and was not a sign of economic health, but a symptom of illness. (I do not remember the names of the authors or the publications).

The other two were far right views. I read Murray N. Rothbard’s America's Great Depression. Rothbard was an Austrian school economist and (I would later learn) an extreme one at that. The other was by British economist Lionel Robbins, who was not an Austrian, but shared their general outlook. Their viewpoint was that too-easy credit led to a lot of bad investments that had to be shaken out, and that any attempt to counter the process merely prolonged it. Like the lefties, they regarded the stock bubble as a symptom that the underlying economy was in trouble. Indeed, they did not see the bust as pathological at all. The boom was the pathology; the bust was merely recovery.

In the clear light of hindsight, I regret not reading the views of two more mainstream economists, although they may not have been seen that way at the time. One was our friend Milton Friedman's The Great Contraction. Friedman's theory was that the Great Depression was caused by monetary constraint, and that the proper remedy was monetary expansion (Ben Bernanke's much-mocked comment about dropping money from a helicopter originated with Friedman).

The other was the debt deflation theory of Irving Fisher. Fisher believed that depressions were caused by too much debt building up in the system and then all being called in at once. When everyone tries to pay down debt at once, it causes the economy to become deflationary, which makes the debt burden worse than ever. His remedy was “reflation.” This, by the way, clears up the mystery of why Milton Friedman should care about the nominal economy. Debt burden cannot exist relative to the real economy, only to the nominal economy. Nominal growth that consists mostly of inflation is beneficial in an over-indebted economy because it shrinks the debt burden.

Friedman, as I mentioned, was mentioned in our text, but mostly as an afterthought and a challenge to the accepted view. Neither Fisher nor his debt deflation theory were ever mentioned in our economics text at all. They may not have seemed as mainstream then as they do now. But Friedman's ideas were gaining ascendance, especially as they were being successfully used to tame the doubt digit inflation that seemed unstoppable. And Fisher is only now becoming fully appreciated.

Clueless, but Not Stupid

Paul Krugman has a column on why the Republican field is such a mess. Of course, we all know the answer. The Republican base holds a large number of counter-factual beliefs and makes a large number of contradictory demands on its candidates. And, as Krugman says, "There are only two ways to make the cut: to be totally cynical or totally clueless."

Romney has taken the totally cynical option. He just tells the base whatever lies they want to hear without believing a word of it. Or, as Krugman says, " He isn’t a stupid man — but he seems to play one on TV. Unfortunately from his point of view, however, his acting skills leave something to be desired, and his insincerity shines through." I prefer to believe that the base, though ill-informed or even clueless, is not stupid. They know when they are being played for suckers. And there are few political sins so unforgiveable as playing your constituents for suckers.

So, the Republican base seeks out sincere candidates in the form of Bachman, Perry and Cain, all of whom are clueless. But, remember, the Republican base, although clueless, is not stupid. They know cluelessness when they see it (except in the mirror), and they don't want it in a President.

Krugman, like most people, has dropped Donald Trump's short-lived front runner status down memory hole. Trump, I have no doubt, was cynical, even more cynical than Romney. (He may also be pulling a two-fer by being clueless too). He played the birther card because he thought it would be a winning one with the base. However, it quickly transpired that Trump was seeking to play the base for suckers and really didn't understand them at all. The base abandoned him as soon as that became apparent.

That leaves Gingrich. Is he cynical or clueless? Given that he has endorsed single payer, proposed action against global warming, and taken other positions anathema to the Republican base, I am inclined to say he is cynical. But he is much better at it than either Romney or Trump. Or, as Krugman says, "[E]ven when he knows what he’s saying isn’t true, he manages to believe it while he’s saying it." In other words, he's so cynical he may successfully fool the base because he even fools himself. And, because he really isn't clueless even if he convinces himself of some clueless things, the base will not abandon him for his cluelessness. Of course, this is a very hard tightrope to walk, and he may yet fall off.

The point, though, is that the reason the Republican primary has become such a circus is not that they are appealing to a clueless base. They are appealing to a base that is clueless but not stupid.