Dana Milbank,” says the columnist’s capsule biography in the Washington Post, “writes about political theater in the nation’s capital.” Ha ha. He’s just kidding. He actually writes about politics and (especially) politicians, but he treats them as if they were theater. Because they kind of are. Get the joke? I’m not quite sure Mr. Milbank himself does. Just look at the mock bafflement in the opening paragraphs of his column on the morning after the Republican victory in the mid-term elections.
During political campaigns, candidates usually tell voters what they would do if elected. But Sen. Mitch McConnell had a different idea. “This is not the time to lay out an agenda,” the Kentucky Republican told reporters four days before Election Day. A week or so before that, the man who would be the next Senate majority leader provided more details of his theory. “It’s never a good idea to tell the other side what the first play is going to be.” No, but it might be a good idea to tell the voters what you’re up to.
No, it mightn’t. Political campaigns by either party have become highly skilled at nottelling voters what they would do if elected. Mr. Milbank ought to know better than anyone why Senator McConnell was reluctant to publicize the Republican playbook in advance of the game—a metaphor that itself suggests the reason. It is that the game—or, if you prefer, the theatrics—of the election is
