Debate Reactions Are Part of the Republican 'Brand'
Ta-Nehisi Coates

In official Washington there's been quite a bit of consternation over the reactions elicited by the Republican primary debates. For those sane enough to do something besides watch the pregame show for Iowa, New Hampshire and South Carolina, a quick tally will suffice.

On Sept. 7, the crowd applauded the fact that Texas is, by far, the most accomplished dispenser of the death penalty in the country. On Sept. 12, portions of the crowd loudly endorsed the notion of letting the uninsured die. Then, last week, a few members of the audience booed a gay soldier who had the temerity to ask about "Don't Ask Don't Tell." In the latter instance, I found Rick Santorum's actual answer -- that the revocation of DADT constitutes "special privileges" -- more disturbing than the crowd. Moreover, fairness compels me to mention that each crowd response varied in intensity.

Nevertheless, it's worth considering what the reaction would be if, as writer Rod Dreher posited, the audience at a Democratic debate applauded a rise in abortion rates, or booed a soldier for asking a question. My expectation is that it would not merely be the kiss of death, but of particular interest to those charged with crafting attack ads.

The larger point for me is the shock evinced by pundits at the crowd's reaction. In the instance of the death penalty, it's worth pointing out that capital punishment retains its support among Americans at large, and among the GOP base in particular. I oppose the death penalty in all cases -- from child killers to terrorists -- but it's long been clear to me that this is a minority position. As for health care for the uninsured and Don't Ask Don't Tell, the GOP has spent much of the past decade alternating between attacks on gays and attacks on "socialist" health care.

Opposition can take various forms, and the particular opposition brandished at the debates -- booing a gay soldier, cheering execution -- is not merely in line with the goals of the modern GOP, but with the tactics of its base. A movement whose leading media figures denounce health-care reform as reparations (that would be Glenn Beck), and whose presidential candidates claim that "The Lion King" is pro-gay propaganda (that would be Michele Bachmann) should never be surprised when its membership takes cues.

What frightens pundits isn't simply the propaganda, but the prospect of mob. We have come to expect that some of our candidates will be outrageous. But the notion that that outrageousness reflects the feelings of actual Americans, and that the wild words of politicians might stoke those feelings, is harder to contemplate.

And for good reason. The capital punishment system in Texas is a legitimate social justice issue. Texas executes more prisoners than any other state in the nation, and does it in rather haphazard fashion. (A Chicago Tribune story in 2000 found that nearly one-third of public defenders in Texas death penalty cases that took place while George W. Bush was governor had been publicly sanctioned by the state's trial board.) Rick Perry didn't author Texas' capricious machinery of death, but he has heartily endorsed it and repressed attempts to investigate some of its most grievous errors.

In similar fashion, Rick Santorum and Michelle Bachmann didn't invent homophobia. But they consistently endorsed efforts to restrict the rights of gays. This is not merely a matter of gay marriage. Santorum believe that gay sex, specifically, should be illegal. "If the Supreme Court says that you have the right to consensual (gay) sex within your home, then you have the right to bigamy, you have the right to polygamy, you have the right to incest, you have the right to adultery. You have the right to anything," Santorum told the Associated Press in 2003. Bachmann has referred to homosexuality as "sexual dysfunction" and "part of Satan."

But the GOP field represents an actual electorate, one that has actual views about gays, the uninsured and the criminally accused. What all of these groups have in common is their vulnerability. Gay families do not enjoy the same legal protections as the rest of the country, while the uninsured and criminally accused disproportionately hail from some of the nation's poorest communities. Taken together, what you see is a brand of tribalism directed at people who are without power and are outside of the "norm."

It's a brand the Republicans have endorsed, because it's the brand of their base. Convincing yourself that homosexuality is "part of Satan" is the hard part. Once you're convinced of that, booing is an all too natural reaction.

(Ta-Nehisi Coates is a writer and senior editor for The Atlantic)