Oct. 30, 2004, 7:29PM
Scary how fear is being used to keep us in line
By COREY ROBIN
Since Sept. 11, many on the left have accused the Bush
administration of manipulating the fear of terrorism for political
gain. Democrats denounce Karl Rove for drawing from a slush fund of
popular anxiety to bankroll the president's re-election. Liberals decry
the USA Patriot Act, arguing that Attorney General John Ashcroft has
exploited widespread feelings of vulnerability to reverse decades of
progress in the realm of civil liberties. Progressives generally agree
the White House has tried to turn national security into a mute button,
muffling criticism with charges of insufficient patriotism and warnings
about demoralizing the troops. But fear in the United States is not a government-run
monopoly. It's a joint venture between the public and private sector.
Sometimes employers benefit from this collusion, cashing in on the fear
of terrorism to restrain combative unions and dissident employees.
Other times the government benefits, for employers can do what public
officials cannot: punish men and women for their political views. Like
so much else in the United States, fear has been outsourced, and the
price is paid in freedom.
While color-coded alerts have little effect on most
people's lives, fear can have a real impact when leveraged by an
employer. In spring 2002, for example, shipping companies on the West
Coast braced for a bitter showdown with their dockworkers' unions at
the negotiating table. Hoping to blunt labor's ultimate weapon -- the
strike -- the shipping companies joined forces with the Gap, Mattel and
Home Depot, which rely on imports from East Asia, and met with
officials from the Office of Homeland Security and the departments of
Commerce, Labor and Transportation. Sympathetic to their concerns, the Bush administration
declared the impending strike a threat to security and threatened the
unions with a declaration of national emergency and the use of federal
troops. Though Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld failed to cite any
evidence that stopping imports of children's toys from the Philippines
would harm the nation's safety -- and the dockworkers' unions promised
to load and unload military shipments even if the ports were closed --
the invocation of national security worked. Talk of a strike ceased,
and the unions eventually capitulated. While in that instance the government mustered the public's
fears on behalf of private interests, it has also relied upon private
fears -- in the workplaces of even the most high-minded employers -- to
pursue its goals. In August, the New York Times reported that the
American Civil Liberties Union had signed an agreement promising the
government not to employ anyone appearing on official watch lists of
suspected supporters of terrorism. Not convicted or even suspected
terrorists, but terrorism's suspected supporters, whose only crime
might have been to donate money to humanitarian groups alleged to
support terrorism -- or to share a name with someone who had. (Both
Sen. Edward Kennedy and Georgia congressman John Lewis found themselves
on the list at one point. In one of those bizarre moments when Kafka
becomes comedy, ACLU Executive Director Anthony Romero discovered he
was on the list, too.) Why had the ACLU made this promise? It wanted to participate
in a government program allowing federal employees to make charitable
donations to nonprofit organizations through payroll deductions, and
the Bush administration had made refusing to hire anyone on the watch
lists a condition of the nonprofits' participation. As soon as The Times exposed the agreement, the ACLU rescinded
it. But that didn't end the matter. As Romero said later on National
Public Radio, some 2,000 nonprofit organizations -- including NPR --
receive money through the same contribution program and were expected
to sign the same agreement to police their employees. Though some might take delight at seeing the nation's premier
civil liberties organization hoist on its own petard, the ACLU's
collusion with the government reveals the dark side of American
freedom. For all the legal constraints the Constitution puts on the
government, we rarely recognize the ironic byproduct of those
constraints: the subcontracting of coercion to the private sector. In
its search for those who might be conspiring to attack the United
States, the government lacked the evidence required by the Bill of
Rights to prosecute individuals with suspicious associations and
beliefs. So what did the government do? It asked private employers to
use their power of hiring and firing -- which is not subject to the
Bill of Rights -- to punish these individuals instead. It's not just the war on terrorism that drives coercion into
the workplace. Employers punish their employees for all sorts of
political opinions. Just ask Lynne Gobbell. Last month, Slate reported
that Gobbell's boss, Phil Geddes, owner of an Alabama company that
makes insulation, fired her for driving to work with a Kerry-Edwards
bumper sticker on her car. Gobbell never proselytized on the job, but Geddes was a Bush
supporter who had distributed a flier to his employees explaining why
they should re-elect the president. Geddes wasn't bothered by his
double standard, which allowed him but not Gobbell to campaign. The
work site, after all, was his private property. Nor was he legally in
the wrong, although bad publicity apparently led him to offer, through
an intermediary, to rehire her. (Gobbell declined.) Strange as it may
sound in the land of free speech, employers are generally entitled by
law to hire and fire people on the basis of their political views. At the dawn of American democracy, Alexander Hamilton
acknowledged that economic sanctions could be a powerful weapon for
suppressing unpopular views. "A power over a man's subsistence amounts
to a power over his will," he wrote in the Federalist Papers.
More than two centuries later, Hamilton's insight still applies.
And all of us suffer: When we aren't allowed to voice their heterodox
beliefs without fear of retribution in the workplace -- according to
the latest polls, only 22 percent of Alabama's voters support John
Kerry -- we are deprived of the information and diverse views that are
critical to democratic deliberation. There's nothing really new or particularly Republican about
this collaboration between the public and private sector. In the 1830s,
as Alexis de Tocqueville traveled around the country, he asked a
distinguished physician in Maryland why his colleagues publicly
professed their belief in God when they so obviously had "numerous
doubts on the subject of dogma." The man replied that if any doctor
admitted he was an atheist, his "career would almost certainly be
broken." Local ministers would warn parishioners that their doctor was
an "unbeliever," and his practice would soon be finished. In the early years of the Cold War, employers regularly used
the fear of communism to stifle unions. Company supervisors kept track
of the political beliefs of millions of employees (about 40 percent of
the work force) and liberal groups swapped political information about
their members with the FBI. So routine -- and bipartisan -- is this
collusion between the public and private sector that we can give it a
name: Fear, American Style. Fear, American Style is neither part of a nefarious conspiracy
nor a diabolical plot, but the result of people pursuing their
interests. It's just business as usual, another day at the office, Adam
Smith's Invisible Hand quietly -- and perversely -- at work.
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