Every morning, I open my copy of the newspaper at the country club, and I am instantly assaulted by the same hysterical refrain: the Supreme Court has left us in a dangerous place. To hear the mainstream pundits and the activist class tell it, the recent ruling in Louisiana v. Callais is the final, fatal blow to our republic. They claim it will drive America’s politics to an even more precarious place of partisan tension. They weep openly about the impending ideological Balkanization of our great nation.
But after sharing a rather delightful sea bass with a senior member of the conservative legal movement at the Cosmos Club last Thursday, I have come to a comforting realization. This "dangerous place" we supposedly find ourselves in is actually quite pleasant, provided you have the right zip code and a properly diversified portfolio.
The panic over Louisiana v. Callais—for those of you who obsess over such tedious administrative details as congressional representation—centers on the Court's decision to allow a contested voting map to stand, while simultaneously signaling they might strike it down later. The critics cry out that this creates "chaos" for election officials and "disenfranchisement" for certain demographics. They warn that the Supreme Court is actively fracturing the country into isolated, fiercely partisan fiefdoms where fundamental rights vary wildly from state to state.
To which I say: yes, and isn't it wonderful?
Balkanization has such a terribly negative connotation. It brings to mind messy historical conflicts and people in unfashionable woolen garments shouting at each other across borders. I prefer to think of our current era as a move toward a bespoke jurisdictional experience. Why should the enlightened residents of my gated enclave in Connecticut be forced to share a unified federal reality with the people who live at a rest stop in Louisiana? We have different needs, different tax brackets, and entirely different understandings of what constitutes a human right.
The Supreme Court, in its infinite wisdom, has simply recognized that forcing a vast, unequal nation to adhere to a single set of voting laws is a form of tyranny. By ensuring that the rules of democracy change depending on which side of a county line you happen to be standing on, the justices are fostering a vibrant, competitive marketplace of civil liberties.
During my lunch with the justice—whose name I will omit to protect his privacy, but whose recent luxury RV trips suggest a man deeply in touch with the American open road—he seemed entirely unbothered by the so-called precariousness of our national politics. He was, however, deeply concerned about the precariousness of the club's wine list, which had inexplicably run out of the 2015 Bordeaux. It was a stark reminder that true leadership requires focusing on the things that actually matter.
People complain about "partisan tension" as if tension is inherently bad. But tension is what keeps the sails of my yacht taut. Tension is the architectural force that holds up the suspension bridges connecting my various properties. In the political realm, partisan tension ensures that the lower classes remain far too exhausted by their daily struggle for basic representation to ever unite and demand a wealth tax.
I was discussing this very phenomenon with a colleague on the board of a prominent public policy institute, and he framed the situation perfectly.
The true beauty of a fractured republic is that it keeps the electorate perpetually busy fighting over congressional district lines, which leaves them entirely without the energy to look closely at corporate deregulation.
Arthur is entirely correct. The genius of the Louisiana v. Callais ruling is not just in what it does to the map, but in what it does to the mind. It creates a state of permanent, low-level exhaustion among the populace. When you are forced to spend every election cycle wondering if your district even exists anymore, you have very little time left over to wonder why my capital gains are taxed at a lower rate than your labor.
I, too, have felt the sting of a divided America. Just last week, a dinner party of mine was entirely ruined when a guest—the plus-one of a junior partner at my firm—rudely brought up the erosion of the Voting Rights Act before the appetizers had even been cleared. The partisan tension was palpable. The ideological Balkanization was so severe that I was forced to have the butler show them to the door. So please, do not tell me that I am insulated from the consequences of the Court's actions.
We must all learn to adapt to this new, heavily gerrymandered reality. Instead of weeping over the loss of a cohesive national identity, we should embrace the thrill of the unknown. Will your vote count this November? Will your congressional district look like a salamander, or perhaps a slightly crushed bowtie? It is this very element of surprise that makes American democracy the greatest show on earth.
A small request to the people who actually have to live under these newly volatile voting maps: please stop complaining. Your relentless whining about "disenfranchisement" and "democratic backsliding" is creating a very negative energy in the financial sector, and it is making my morning read incredibly depressing.
The Supreme Court has done exactly what we asked of them. They have safely sequestered the chaos of the American electorate behind impenetrable legal walls, allowing the adults in the room to get back to the business of generating shareholder value. So let us raise a glass to the dangerous place we find ourselves in. I, for one, have never felt safer.