As a reference point for America, or even American politics, the U.S. Senate seems to have a glaring defect: it's inherently non-representative. It is the counterbalance built into the Constitution by the founding fathers to assure that big states would not overwhelm little ones. After all, at the end of the Revolutionary War, Virginia was a population bully--12 times the size of Delaware. Without the Senate, the good folks of Delaware could be lost in the shuffle.
Today, the disparity is even worse. We have a Vice President from Delaware, which certainly would not have happened if big states were allowed to fully exercise their populous muscle. Delaware simply wouldn't matter. California today contains 68 times as many people as Wyoming. In fact, California is home to more folks than 21 other states combined.
Still, I think studying the Senate explains American politics. Largely because voters look at Senate candidates in a more sober, studied way than those for any other office. After all, they are making a six year commitment--longer than they devote to a college choice, a car loan, or most romantic relationships. Those six years give a sense of familiarity that is seldom associated with any Congressman. While Presidential races are characterized by a numbing overload of pomp and circumstance, from declaration all the way through inauguration day, those who would be Senator are seen through a lens more sharply focused on reality.
And it is because of this, I believe, that those Tea Partiers who saw themselves as Senators--Miller in Alaska, Angle in Nevada, Raese in West Virginia, Buck in Colorado, and O'Donnell in Delaware--went home without trophies this time around. In the end, they were not judged Senate-worthy.
In fact, statistically the Senate seems precisely aligned with the sentiments of America. This fall, among those voters who were willing to declare a party affiliation (leaving the independents aside), 52% said 'Democrat' compared to 48% for 'Republican'. It appears the new Senate will include 52 Senators caucusing with Democrats...compared to 48 with the Republicans. A perfect match.
But beneath the surface, there are two central currents running through the Senate that help explain America's political divide better than 24 straight hours of any political punditry.
True, in general Republicans are richer and Democrats less so; Democrats more progressive and Republicans more conservative. The GOP is whiter, while the Dems get more female votes. But working against the stereotypes are jarring exceptions: there are two very moderate female GOP Senators representing the state of Maine, each assailed by members of their own party as 'liberals' for their positions on social issues; on the Democratic side of the aisle, that party can take nothing for granted from Blue Dog members who would logically support the progressive policies designed to provide better times for their relatively poorer constituencies.
What explains this?
Isolation...and religion.
There are 13 states in America where population density is more than 200 people per square mile. They don't seem to have much in common: Massachusetts, Florida, Ohio and Hawaii are not close together. California houses four of the nation's 12 biggest cities. The densest state--New Jersey--doesn't even include one in the top 60.
But people in those states have one thing in common--contact with a lot of other people. They cross paths. They interact. They find out about each other. They have no choice. They have to share--roads and school rooms and open spaces. They are the answer to Rodney King's plea--yes, they all can just get along.
However, does this constant contact make them anxious and angry...or more forgiving? Do they end up wanting to help their fellow men...or punish them? Maybe a good test would be to study who they elect as Senators. Do they want 'help your fellow man' Democrats? Or 'every man for himself' conservatives?
Here's the breakdown for those 26 elected officials: 21 are Democrats...and only five Republicans. When people have to get along, they do. Isolation breeds desolation. Familiarity would seem to breed consideration for your fellow man. Perhaps close contact promote appreciation for the fundamental liberties our first patriots envisioned.
The other definitive fissure in American politics is religion. On one side of the chasm you have good, God-fearing Christians. On the other, there's your collection of atheists, agnostics, Muslims, Buddhists, witches, cultists, devil-worshipers, and those who spend their Sunday mornings on golf courses that may or may not have been created by intelligent design.
How does the Senate scorecard play out here? Of the ten states where church attendance is lowest, fourteen senators are Democrats, and only six Republicans. Not worshipping there is not fatal to a political career.
But in the ten states where people most often attend Sunday services, a whopping 17 Senators carry the GOP banner, compared to three lowly Democrats. Here, it is definitely advisable to be seen consulting the Good Book.
Over the next two years, the legislative engine of Congress will most certainly seize. It's hard to see either side giving an inch (if the Democrats have learned even a modicum of reality). And into that void, the media will jump, yabbering about what they really want to talk about anyway--Sarah Palin.
As a resident of the state with the most open space...and already clearly comfortable with the concept of Messiah...Ms. Palin seems perfectly suited to play to her base.
But it's not yet clear that her act will play as well where Americans really have to interact and assess strangers every day...where more faith is placed in human beings than supreme beings.
Yes, she is blissfully isolated and vocally devout.
But could America ever see her as a Senator...much less a President?