A Taxing Reality

FROM an oratorical standpoint, Walter Mondale gave the best speech of his life that night. The crowd at the 1984 Democratic convention in San Francisco (admittedly, a partisan audience) was hanging on his every word. Even though he was following Mario Cuomo, Jesse Jackson and Geraldine Ferraro, the lead-toungued Minnesotan was thrilling the audience.

And then he made the worst political mistake of his life--he told the truth. Mondale told the convention and the nation, "Mr. Reagan will raise taxes. So will I. He won't tell you. I just did." His resounding defeat in November, largely attributable to that pledge, reaffirmed the sad fact that honesty with the American electorate is political suicide.

Bruce Babbitt made the same mistake in this year by candidly telling voters that he would impose a few carefully planned tax increases. Although pundits gave him kudos for his candor, the voters cudgelled him at the polls.

The American electorate has a remarkable tendency to hear only what it wants to. And when the unwanted message comes, America's swiftness in dispatching the messenger is unmatched.

The other candidates have learned this lesson well. George Bush unequivocally rules out a tax increase, saying that he will cure our budgetary ills with spending cuts. Mike Dukakis plans to raise revenue with a tax amnesty program and tougher enforcement. Pat Robertson has even suggested holding a "jubilee" every fifty years when all debts would be forgiven.

IN all likelihood, every candidate secretly realizes that the 41st President will somehow have to find additional revenue. But they still disguise their intentions behind pledges to raise taxes "only as a last resort." Next to Babbitt, Paul Simon came closest to the truth when he revealed that this "last resort" effort would probably come during his first year in office.

Even when the candidates publicly consider tax increases, they never call them that. Instead, tax increases become "revenue enhancers." Can "negative refunds" be far behind? Confronted with the paradox that playing it straight with the voters equals electoral disaster, Presidential aspirants have understandably chosen to hide behind euphemism and obfuscation.

Babbitt's "stand-up campaign" dramatized the fact that while none of us want reduced services or higher taxes, neither do we want high deficits bequeathed to our children. Our desire for a gain-no pain cure has left us looking like a whiny child, unwilling to swallow the bitter, restorative fiscal medicine. We have entrusted the economic health of the nation to Dr. Feelgood and have demonstrated a willingness to forgive deception and punish forthrightness.

THERE is a Chinese story by Lu Hsun about a philosopher who is telling a parable to his acolyte. Three men are admiring their neighbor's newborn son. The first man complimented the boy, saying "One day, this boy will be rich." The second said, "One day, this boy will be a high official." The third, a bit more realistic, said "One day, this boy will die," whereupon the others beat him senseless.

The acolyte immediately recognized the dilemma. "I don't want to lie," he said, "but neither do I want to be beaten. What should I do?" The wise old philosopher, who is now no doubt a Presidential campaign consultant, replied, "Then you must only laugh and say, 'This boy! Ha Ha Ha! Look at this boy!'"

The nation has unwittingly conditioned its Presidential candidates to do the same--make only meaningless noises about the deficit. The perverse, tacit agreement between the electorate and the candidates is, "Don't upset us, even if you have to fib a bit, and we'll vote for you."

Part of the blame for this sad irony lies with President Reagan, whose administration has been a case study in the political value of shameless dissembling. His success certainly has inspired Bush, and probably the Democratic candidates as well. But the real guilt rests with us, the voters. We wanted our President to be a collective father figure, an infallible, paternal presence. We wanted to believe Daddy's promises, and to hell with those doomsayers who would disturb our comfortable fantasy.

Eventually, the absurdity of "no tax" pledges, like the Emperor's nudity, will be recognized. Unfortunately, we have thus far ostracized the naively honest candidates who tried to force the realization upon us. We can only hope that something less than a genuine economic catastrophe will arouse us from our eight-year-long daydream.