“The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about.”

— Oscar Wilde

The signs that a blogger is making a difference are often subtle and indirect. An issue or idea you brought up is mentioned in other media. A politician stops using a line of argument after you’ve debunked it. A member of the legacy press takes a gratuitous swipe in your direction.

Sometimes it’s less subtle. I have been, at different times, congratulated and sneered at by Vermont’s First Citizen. I’ve gotten some off-the-record praise from leading politicians.

But the blogger’s most unique currency of notice — the sign that you’re being read and having an impact — is when people get mad at you. Badges of honor, I call ’em. And I’ve received two new ones this week.

First, Senator Joe Benning’s inept defense of his repeated use of the word “rape,” as posted on VTDigger. I didn’t notice it at first because we were all focused on his persistent rapeyness. But there it was, in his response to the press release from Vermont Democratic Party head Julia Barnes’ taking issue with the use of “rape” in a political debate:

Her press release mirrored an earlier blog essay, written by an anonymous blogger who seeks relevance through savagery with acerbic wit.

That earlier blog essay was mine. And I’d like to thank the Senator for honoring me with his vitriol. Indeed, if I hadn’t just gotten some business cards printed up (including my picture and real name, Joe), I’d get some now, if only to include the motto “Savagery with Acerbic Wit.”

That’s the kind of thing, like Seven Days co-owner Paula Routly’s characterization of GMD as an “angry mob of partisan bloggers,” that makes a blogger proud.  

And speaking of Seven Days, my second Badge of Honor comes from Paul Heintz, the self-anointed Emily Post of State House journalism. My diary about the VTGOP’s hiring of Brent Burns as its new political director didn’t meet Heintz’ standards of decorum:

Runner-up loser: Green Mountain Daily’s John Walters for his unwarranted, but typical, 3:22 a.m. trashing of Burns. Welcome to Vermont!

Sorry, Paul. I hadn’t realized that “Welcome Wagon” is one of the duties of the State House press corps. Next time, I promise I’ll chip in on the fruit basket, ‘k?

I do a variety of things in my GMD work. There’s some serious analysis and commentary; there’s some actual journalism; and there’s a fair bit of afflicting the comfortable. When a little acerbic wit is called for, even a touch of savagery, I provide it.

That’s what blogs like GMD do.

And, if you’ll pardon the acerbity, it’s what Seven Days used to do.

So thank you, Sen. Benning and Mr. Heintz. I am honored, and I shall wear these badges with pride.  

Ever since the Senator Bill Doyle Town Meeting Survey made its annual appearance, and attracted the usual amount of media attention, I’ve been doing some thinking about this uniquely Vermont phenomenon. And I’ve come to some conclusions I’d like to run by the rest of you.

The Doyle survey can be filled out by anyone anywhere, and yet it’s always taken as some kind of bellwether of public opinion. Bill Doyle does his annual turn as the Sage of Vermont, and the political class chews over the meaning of the results with all the fervor of a pack of haruspices examining freshly-liberated goat entrails.

This is the same political class that has a rather poor record of predicting actual outcomes. And there’s good reason for that: the politicos and State House media live in a little golden bubble, they spend a lot of time talking to each other, and conventional wisdom is reinforced.

These are the people who lend credence to the Doyle Survey. The Freeploid’s Terri Hallenbeck writes that “often the results smell right,” and the Mitchell Family’s Man in the Bubble Peter Hirschfeld quotes a not-at-all self-serving Bill Doyle contending that “I think it does give us a sense of how people are thinking.”

Really? Well, now that we actually have a professionally-conducted polling operation in Vermont, the Castleton Polling Institute, we have a useful point of comparison.

The 2012 Doyle survey reported 48% approval for Governor Shumlin. This year it’s 42%. This has been interpreted as a rise in anti-Shumlin feelings, even though (a) the Doyle survey is completely unprofessional, and (b) even if it were, the six-point drop is barely outside the statistical margin of error for a professional survey. The results are precisely meaningless.  

Castleton, meanwhile, showed the Governor sailing comfortably along in the 60% range. He won the election with 58% of the vote. Castleton was right, Doyle was wrong.

So why does the chattering class go on and on about the Doyle Survey? Well, we Vermonters love our traditions, the little things that make Vermont different and supposedly better. And everybody in the news business likes Bill Doyle.

All right, if the Doyle Survey is not to be trusted, is it simply because of the poll’s random nature? Or does it misrepresent reality in identifiable ways?  

I do not believe that anyone is stuffing the ballot boxes. There’s nothing to gain from doing so, and it would take a lot of effort. No, I think the innate, ungoverned selection process produces a skewed sample. Here’s how.

Who fills out the vast majority of Doyle Surveys? People who attend Town Meeting.

Who attends Town Meeting? Well, to start with, not the residents of our largest communities. They may show up to vote in local elections, but they are much less likely to stop and fill out a Doyle than people who are sitting down for a meeting. I think I’m safe in saying that our smaller communities are over-represented in the Doyle Survey.

Okay, what kinds of people are more likely to attend a Town Meeting? Those with an appreciation for Vermont’s political traditions, and those who want to keep a close eye on their local government. Many of these folks are conservative. Some are liberal, progressive or even radical, but they share that belief in the things that make Vermont unique. I suspect that the Town Meeting crowd is substantially skewed toward lifetime, or longtime, Vermonters.

(Confession: I’ve lived in Vermont for seven years, in a community with a real Town Meeting. I’ve never attended one. And, Frank Bryan hagiography notwithstanding, I don’t feel like I’ve really missed anything, to be honest.)

Take all those inferences together, and what do you have? A survey that overrepresents those who are somewhat more conservative, and very much more invested in Vermont tradition, than the general electorate.  (That’d be a very good dictionary definition of “Bill Doyle,” as it happens.) The survey results would tend to overamplify the uniqueness and quirkiness that Vermont is widely believed to possess.

Especially among the political media. I’ve found that many members of the media, even if they tend to be well-educated and personally outsiderish, have a deeply-held fondness for stereotypical Vermont.

Looking at the whole picture, Doyle Survey participants tend to be more Vermonty than the real-life Vermont. The results reflect this. The predispositions of the political class and media tend to accept, or even welcome, the survey results as more “proof” that Vermont is a special and different place.

It’s the Bill Doyle Feedback Loop.

And I believe it has a negative effect on our political discourse. Those who live in the hothouse of state politics think that Vermont is more conservative and eccentric than it really is, and that makes them more cautious than they should be. They tend to over-validate conventional wisdom on issues like taxes and gun control, as well as the lesser controversies that seem to tie politicians in knots, such as vaccination, smart meters, and wind energy.

I mean, as an essentially meaningless bit of springtime fun, the Doyle is an innocuous thing. But to the extent it’s taken seriously as a measure of public opinion, we’d be better off without it.  

Must be a few shekels rattling around in the Vermont Republicans’ bank account.  They’ve actually hired somebody!

On Monday, Brent Burns took over as the political director of the Vermont Republican Party.

The post sat vacant for more than year, after Mike Bertrand left the position.

Uh, erm, a couple of points.

First, Burns is not replacing Mike Bertrand. Burns is “political director” while Bertrand was “executive director,” which is a couple rungs higher on the organizational ladder.

Second, I hope Burns has done his due diligence, seeing as how his “predecessor” quit the job due to a critical shortage of paychecks. When Bertrand stepped aside in March 2012, VTGOP chair Jack Lindley acknowledged that Bertrand hadn’t been paid since the beginning of the year. Ouch.

Okay, so let’s take a closer look at Mr. Burns and his political background.  

According to the party, Burns has worked as a political consultant in Texas and as a field organizer for the campaign of Rep. Michael McCaul, R-Texas.

That, apparently, is the sum total of Burns’ political experience. It’s a little bit sad, really; and raises serious issues about his political fit in the Green Mountain State. His ex-boss Michael McCaul is a garden-variety right-wing Republican who’s been in Congress for nine years without making much of a dent in the institution.

There is one lovely stain on McCaul’s political resume: He was one of three Texas Republicans who ginned up a fake controversy over the Veterans Administration allegedly banning references to God at military funerals. The Congresscritters talked of mandating religious (read: Christian) content in such services, which would have been just peachy for war dead who happened to be atheist, agnostic, or inconveniently faithed. Fortunately, it was only talk, as the VA quickly debunked their hysterical attack.

McCaul is also still actively fighting to repeal Obamacare, so there’s that. And he boasts a 100% rating from Right to Life and a big fat zero from Planned Parenthood.

But his most significant claim to fame is that he’s the wealthiest member of Congress. He came upon his riches the all-American way: he married it. McCaul’s wife Linda is the daughter of Lowry Mays, Chairman of Clear Channel Communications, the company largely responsible for turning American commercial radio into an unstaffed wasteland of prefab music formats and syndicated talkers.

Pardon the discussion on Congressman Moneybags, but it may shed light on Burns’ political leanings. Plus, there’s just not a lot of information about Burns himself.

He is a graduate of Texas A&M and a military veteran. He recently finished a tour of duty as a satellite communications supervisor for the military where, according to the VTGOP, “he oversaw operations in Iraq, Afghanistan, Kuwait, and southwest Asia.”

Which sounds like a fancy way of saying “he sat in front of a computer terminal for eight hours a day,” but let’s acknowledge his service to his country.

It was this high-tech service, rather than Burns’ political heft, that supposedly makes him a perfect fit for the VTGOP Of Tomorrow.

“Brent has the type of leadership we have been looking for to grow our organization and move our party in a new direction,” Jack Lindley, chair of the Vermont party, said in a public statement. “He has a background in technology, which will help as we become a more agile and data driven organization.”

Which brings up another question about Burns’ new job. If you look at the Vermont Democrats’ org chart, you’ll see (among many other paid positions) a Political Director (Nick Charyk) and a Data Director (John Faas).

So why is the VTGOP hiring a data director to be its political director?

Well, the party’s carefully worded announcement would lead you to believe that they attracted a hot young talent from far away after a nationwide search. However… I found what appears to be Brent Burns’ personal website. (Which bears the headline “Brent D. Burns: Leader/Problem Solver.” Catchy.) The site is very simple and there’s not much information at all. But in it, Burns says:

I recently moved to Burlington, VT to attend graduate school. I like to work, so feel free to contact me if you think I can help your organization.

Ahh. He was already here. He didn’t relocate from Texas just for this job — which, given the circumstances of Mike Bertrand’s departure, is probably a good thing. He was a hire of convenience: a guy who was already around and looking for a little work to pay the bills and pad the resume. That explains it.

Before we close, let’s compare the resumes of the two parties’ Political Directors, shall we?

In the red corner, Republican Brent Burns, onetime campaign staffer for a Texas Congressman. And in the blue corner, Democrat Nick Charyk, who worked on Matt Dunne’s gubernatorial campaign in 2010, managed Donny Osman’s bid for State Senate that same year, and then spent two years as head of the Vermont Democratic House Campaign, where, by all accounts, he did a brilliant job leading the party to a smashing victory in 2012.

Nick seems to have quite the edge there. Plus, he’s actually from Vermont and knows the state’s politics and players. Burns? Well, he spent Monday introducing himself around the State House.

It’s good to see the VTGOP actually being able to hire a couple of staff members; it’s definitely a sign of progress. But is Burns the guy to spark a Republican turnaround? Color me skeptical.  

One of Vermont’s cute little traditions made its annual appearance yesterday, as Senator Bill Doyle released the results of his annual Town Meeting Survey. And the Freeploid went nutzoid (behind a paywall), you should pardon the expression, with one of the survey questions. The headline:

Doyle poll shows popularity down for Shumlin, gas tax

And the first paragraph:

Gov. Peter Shumlin’s approval rating is down, and it might have something to do with how people feel about his proposed increase in the gas tax, which they decidedly do not like.

Oh noes! Shumlin’s in the dumpster! The gas tax is doing him in! Upheaval in Vermont politics!

Well, no.

Let’s start with the fact that Doyle’s survey, storied thought it may be, is completely unscientific. The questions are distributed at town meetings (and many other locations; there was a box of ’em in the State House lobby for several weeks), and participation is voluntary. The ‘Loid admits this, but then adds a nice little qualifier:

He can’t be sure somebody isn’t stuffing the ballot box, but often the results smell right and they have lots of people in Vermont political circles buzzing.

“Often the results smell right.” Smell right to whom? The reporters and politicos under the Golden Dome? Need I remind you that they don’t have a terribly good track record when it comes to the “smell” of politics?

Still to come: the biggest exaggeration in this article.

These renowned sniffers are the same ones who believed Vince Illuzzi was a shoo-in for Auditor because he was such a brilliant politician, known and loved by all. When, in fact, his fame basically resided in two low-population areas: the Northeast Kingdom and the State House. They also believed that Beth Pearce was in serious trouble because she had no political experience while her opponent, Wendy Wilton, had the deep pockets of Lenore Broughton behind her.

And I haven’t even gotten to the Big Lie in this story yet.

•42 percent say they think second-term Democrat Shumlin is doing a good job, down from 46 percent last year…  

Wait wait wait. Shumlin’s approval is down by FOUR POINTS? Even if the Doyle Survey was a scientifically designed and conducted poll, four points would be within the margin of error. A four-point drop would have little or no significance even if it came from Gallup or Castleton. Four points in a Doyle survey is nothing.

And the “analysis” that Shumlin’s alleged “decline” is due to the gas tax proposal? Absolute sheer guesswork. By a Republican, no less.

I mean, Bill Doyle is a good guy and everybody loves him. But he is, after all, a member of the Loyal Opposition. Plus he has a vested interest in his Survey, which is his calling card in Vermont politics. And the “analysis” comes entirely from him:

Doyle suggested Shumlin’s drop in approval is a comedown from the good vibes for his response to the 2011 Tropical Storm Irene. Now, there is the reality of a higher proposed gas tax, Doyle noted.

Again, the “drop in approval” is statistically meaningless. And nobody else is quoted in the piece.

Freeploid FAIL.  

I dunno, but the state Senate is managing the trick.

A non-bylined story on the Times Argus website (paywalled), presumably written by Peter Hirschfeld, practically delivers last rites for the campaign finance reform bill that was loudly and unanimously supported by the Democratic, Republican, and Progressive Parties, plus Secretary of State Jim Condos.

The problem is, campaign law is every elected official’s bread and butter, and they are loath to change the rules that got them where they are today. I witnessed the beginning of the bill’s death by a thousand cuts at a recent hearing of the Senate Appropriations Committee. The bill had to pass through Appropriations because it included $100,000 for new IT to manage campaign and election databases.

And the Appropriations Committee basically spent an hour dumping all over the bill. Republicans questioned its basic philosophy — that big money erodes public confidence, and the best available remedy is increased transparency. Many Democrats picked fights with the bill; Dick Sears fretted about possible lawsuits (an issue thoroughly vetted by the Government Operations Committee), and Bobby Starr questioned the need for change because, well, we’ve always done it this way so why shouldn’t we keep doing it this way? Genius.

And nobody wanted to spend any money on the bill, in spite of Condos’ explanation that the existing software is, aside from being hopelessly outdated and inadequate, barely functional at all.

Champions of Democracy, I tell you. During that hour, I did not hear a single expression of concern for the voters. You know, the people who put these mooks in their comfy chairs. The campaign finance reform bill would make it much easier to follow the money in Vermont politics. It would require more frequent filings, to be sure; but electronic filing would make the task a whole lot simpler than it is now.

So I can’t say I was surprised to read the Times Argus account, which spotlighted a return engagement by the Slummin’ Solon, Peter Galbraith, in his role as Derailer of Campaign Finance Reform. His pet peeve is corporate donations; he wants ’em banned entirely.

Which would greatly benefit people like, er, Peter Galbraith, who is independently wealthy and who self-funds his campaigns far beyond the capacity of your typical Senatorial candidate — roughly $50,000 each in 2010 and 2012.

After the jump: the Senate puts the knife in.

As the article recounts:

As the clerk called the roll on Galbraith’s amendment, and “yeses” began to outnumber “nays,” observers in the gallery knew something was amiss. Lawmakers here by and large oppose efforts to prohibit corporate giving to candidates, mainly because it’s a source of funds on which many of them have come to rely.

Sen. Anthony Pollina provided an insightful diagnosis of the vote:

“My gut tells me a majority of the body does not want to prohibit corporate contributions, but they were afraid to go on record as being in support of them,” Pollina said. “So they voted for the amendment with the hope that the whole bill would fail, and they wouldn’t have to comply with that ban.”

And, foreseeing the bill’s defeat, Government Operations Committee Chair Jeannette White basically pulled the bill from the floor.

It’s possible that the bill will make a comeback, but the odds are against passage because Galbraith’s provision is still part of it — and that almost ensures a “No” vote.

Which would make 2013 the second year in a row that Peter Galbraith played a decisive role in killing campaign law reform.

The article ends with this faint glimmer of hope:

Key lawmakers are scrambling now to find a path forward. And Secretary of State Jim Condos said they better figure something out quick. If the state waits until next year to install heightened disclosure requirements, he said, then they may not take effect in time to have any impact on the 2014 election.

At times like these, it’s hard not to see the State Senate as the biggest barrier to progress in Montpelier. I’d just like to thank these self-serving asshats for ignoring the interests of the voters and the expressed wishes of their own parties.

April First may have come and gone, but believe me, we’ve got more than our share of fools.  

Author’s note: Last November, Paul “The Huntsman” Heintz earned his nickname by writing a story about going hunting with Governor Shumlin. What Paul didn’t realize is that he wasn’t the only member of the State House press corps to get that particular invitation. But I chose not to write about my experience until the right moment came along. And this particular day, April 1, is definitely that moment.

“Male bonding, Vermont style,” he said. “You’re not real buddies ’till you’ve pissed the same tree.” 

I looked at the spot where our streams splashed the base of an old maple tree, steam rising into the cold night air. My eyes couldn’t help themselves; they stole leftward for a glance at the gubernatorial “package.” And looked away immediately. (Can say no more; sworn to secrecy.) About twenty feet ahead of me, I thought I saw a bit of close-cropped silver beard in the underbrush, reflecting the light of the moon. 

I turned my attention to the business at hand. We both shook loose the last drops and zipped up. What the hell, I asked myself. How did I end up here, out in the Vermont woods, deer hunting with the Governor? 

And peeing with the guy? 

After the jump: early morning gunfire, and a man called Squanto.

It all started innocently enough. I met the Governor at his East Montpelier manse in the late afternoon. The plan was to hit the woods, set up camp, and try to bag ourselves a buck in the early morning. 

“Hey, how ya doin’?” exclaimed the Governor, emerging from the front door. The prospect of some huntin’ — as he insisted on calling it — seemed to have coarsened his tongue and deepened his accent. (Remember in 2004, when John Kerry sauntered into an Ohio bait shop and asking, “Can I get me a hunting license here?” That kind of thing.) 

“Glad to see ya!” He slapped my shoulder. “And glad to enjoy some real, honest bloodsport for a change. You don’t know how many times a thirty-ought-six’ud come in handy at the Statehouse.

“But hey, let’s not stand around here! Let’s head to the great outdoors!”

He flicked his keyfob. The garage door opened, revealing a truly monstrous SUV that looked capable of some serious offroadin’. Or small-country conquerin’. “C’mon, hop in!”

He backed out of the garage and headed across the carefully-tended back yard and into the foliage on a two-track dirt road. After about 50 yards or so, his house barely concealed from view, he pulled to a stop. 

“Okay, team, everybody out!” he cried.

I looked around; yes, we were alone.

Except, again, in the brush: a glimpse of silver, a pair of intense eyes, there and gone.

We grabbed our gear, and the Governor stomped off into the woods. I followed as best I could, but I needn’t have worried about getting lost; we’d barely begun bushwhacking when we came to an open clearing, carefully manicured, with a complete campsite in the center. Two immaculate tents, a campfire in a perfect circle of rocks. On a pole nearby, a bug zapper with a solar panel.  It looked like something out of an Orvis catalog, with a hint of Hammacher Schlemmer.

“Welp, what say we stow our gear?” the Governor said, and disappeared into his tent. I did likewise, and found that the inside of the tent was also immaculate and well-outfitted. Sleeping bag, inflatable pillow, even a little battery-operated reading lamp. After checking everything out, I started unpacking my stuff… and then I heard quiet voices. One was the Governor; the other I couldn’t quite place.

I peered out through the tent flap, and there was the Governor sitting by the fire, talking to a man wearing buckskin clothing. A cast iron pot was hanging over the fire. The conversation abruptly stopped, and both men looked in my direction. The man in buckskin had a painted face and a distinctive salt-and-pepper beard.

“Governor,” I said, taking a seat by the fire. “Secretary Spauld–”

“Uh-uh-uh,” said the Governor. “When we’re huntin’, he goes by “Squanto.”

“Oh, um, okay. Squanto?”

“Squanto” stared at me; Shumlin spoke. “He don’t talk much. But he does cook a mean squirrel stew. What say we have a nice backwoods dinner?”

____________________

Darkness fell. Having sated ourselves on Squanto’s finest, we’d cracked open a couple of Gucci beers, and the Governor was telling childhood stories of huntin’ in the Vermont woods. Most of them seemed plausible enough; I wasn’t so sure about the one where he battled a family of bears in his birthday suit. But hey, a little dramatic license is part of the huntin’ experience, right?

A few five-dollar beers later, the evening wound down. “Hey, team, we should be hittin’ the sack,” said the Governor, arising from the fire. “Squanto and I have something… special… planned for tomorrow. Don’t we, Squanto?”

Squanto nodded vigorously, and the two men chuckled. Rather unpleasantly, I thought.

That’s when the Gucci beer made its presence known, and I found myself dampening a tree with Vermont’s First Citizen.

___________________

I woke up sometime after daybreak. I got out of my sleeping bag, put on some clothes, and emerged from my tent into a crisp late autumn morning.

The fire had burned down. The Governor’s tent was gone. As was the bug zapper. No one was in sight.

“Governor?” I said tentatively. “Squanto?”

A shot rang out.

“Hello?”

Another shot, and a ricochet off a tree to my right. Instinctively I ducked.

A third shot pinged off the ground. I scrambled behind the tree. “Governor?” I shouted. “It’s me! JVWalt, your favorite blogger!”

More gunfire. I leaped to my feet and ran, laughter echoing through the forest behind me.

______________________

Next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground in my own backyard. I had no idea how I got there. My clothes were torn, I had a few bruises, but — feeling around my torso — I was intact.  

I exhaled, picked myself up, cast a wary eye around; and made my way inside.

I didn’t know exactly what happened, and I couldn’t swear it was the Governor and “Squanto” taking shots at me; after all, it was huntin’ season, and I’d been out in the woods alone.

But this I know: I ain’t goin’ huntin’ with the Governor no more.  

One of the joys of reading Peter “One Man Army” Hirschfeld is the way he subtly reveals a politician’s hypocrisies. There’ll be a quote, there’ll be a countervailing fact nearby. He doesn’t call attention to it, and he certainly doesn’t roar “This guy is a hypocrite!” as some uncouth bloggers are won’t to do.

Here, in today’s Mitchell Family Organ (paywalled, sorry), is a Hirschfeld piece on the House-passed budget plan and how it might fare in the Senate. Penitent Pro Tem John Campbell is quoted extensively on the pros and cons of the House’s taxation ideas, but there’s one passage in particular that jumped out at my cynical old eyes.

It concerns the House’s one-year, half-penny increase in the rooms and meals tax. Campbell doesn’t care for the idea:

“I don’t want to do anything that might impede our tourism businesses from emerging from this last recession,” Campbell said. Campbell and Sen. Tim Ashe, first-year chairman of the Senate Committee on Finance, say they’ve taken a brighter view of Shumlin’s proposed tax on break-open tickets than their counterparts in the House.

…”I would rather go to something which some people engage in voluntarily for entertainment purposes,” Campbell said.

Cough. Choke. Gasp. (Drinks water.)

Uh, okay, let me see if I’ve got this right. The break-open tickets are “something which some people engage in voluntarily for entertainment purposes.”

As opposed to, say, going out for dinner or staying in a cute little B&B? Those, I guess, are involuntary activities.

Try again, Senator.

Moving on to the end of the article, we find a discussion of the House plan to increase the gas tax and shift part of it from a per-gallon levy to a price-based tax. Dick Mazza, longtime chair of the Senate Transportation Committee, is dubious.

“I don’t like having automatic tax increases built in now,” Mazza said. “If we need more money in three or four years, then I think we ought to come back in three or four years and deal with it then.”

Ahem. Noble sentiment, sir. I assume you’re calling for a drastic re-do of the sales tax, because it automatically rises with inflation?

Guess not.

Try again, Senator.  

Remember this chart?

I posted it in this space about three weeks ago. It shows, very effectively, the true extent of wealth inequality in America today. A majority of Americans are poor or barely out of poverty, while the top earners hold an absurdly large share of our national wealth. The chart is actually a screengrab from a six-minute-long video presentation which I highly recommend. If you’ve already seen it once, go back and watch it again.

I’m bringing this up again because it ought to be front and center in State House consideration of tax and welfare policy. Because the old assumptions just don’t hold true anymore.

After the jump: Inconvenient facts and figures. Lots of ’em.

First of all, let’s take a closer look at the low end of the curve — the share of wealth held by the bottom 60% of all Americans.

As you can see, the “Poor” have essentially nothing, while the “Middle Class” are barely better off. This is crucial when considering the proposed lifetime cap on Reach Up benefits. Reach Up is designed to help folks survive a rough patch and get back into the workforce. That’s the argument for a five-year cap: it’s not supposed to be permanent.

Which is true. But the unspoken rationale is that our economy is like a ladder: you move up one step at a time, and each step takes you farther away from poverty and closer to prosperity. But given today’s wealth inequality, you can take a bunch of steps and still be barely out of poverty. There’s no margin for error, and no opportunity to build savings against future hard times.

I look at this, and I see a very high likelihood that Reach Up recipents will have to return to the program — perhaps multiple times — not because they’re lazy, but because it’s extremely difficult to climb high enough to achieve and financial security whatsoever.

In America, it’s not a ladder anymore; it’s a mountain. And most of us are living in the flood-prone lowlands.

And how high is that mountain? Well, in the first chart above, you’ll notice that the top 5% have so much wealth that their lines shoot through the roof. Here’s another version of the chart with all the wealth squeezed onto the screen.

See those black columns on the right? That represents the total wealth in the hands of the top 1%. It’s completely out of scale with the rest of us — and even with the top 2-5%, who are merely wealthy, not obscenely so.

This fact ought to be driving our tax policy. The wealthy have done so well, that raising taxes on top earners is the only way to pay for government services. They’ve got all the money!

And they’ve got so much of the money, that reasonable tax increases should be completely painless for them.

We all have a sense that wealth distribution is out of whack, but it’s difficult to grasp the true scale of the problem. Here’s another screengrab from the video; this one shows three wealth distributions. The bottom bar is the wealth distribution that virtually all Americans (92% of us) believe to be ideal — the wealthy are rewarded for their efforts, but there’s a strong middle class and even the poor manage to have something.

The middle bar represents what Americans think our wealth distribution is: they realize that the rich are doing far better than everyone else, but they believe that we all get at least a slice of the pie.

And then there’s the top bar, showing the actual distribution of wealth. The top 10% have about two-thirds of all the wealth, and the top 1% have about one-third. The poor and middle class have nothing.

The difference between the middle bar and the top is what distorts our political dialogue — and policymaking.

It also feeds into middle-class resentment. They’re working hard but they’re not getting anywhere. They’re not doing that much better than welfare recipients. But nobody’s making their lives easier. In fact, they’re often asked to bear more of the burden.

Let’s look at one more chart, this one from our friends at the Institute on Taxation and Economic Policy. This shows the distribution of the state and local tax burden in Vermont.

In previous posts, I’ve referred to the outer ends of this chart. Now I’m focused on the middle. Vermont’s tax system is relatively progressive compared to most other states. Or, to put it more accurately, it’s less regressive. The burden borne by the bottom 40% is eased by our relatively generous Earned Income Tax Credit program. Even so, the rich pay proportionately less than the poor, who get socked by sales and property taxes.

But look where the burden is highest: on the people in the middle. And bear in mind that Vermont’s median income is about $53,000 a year — not chump change, but hardly Scrooge McDuck territory. No wonder there’s so much middle-class resentment of the poor. And no wonder, when you get out from under the Golden Dome, there’s a whole lot of anger about taxes. Many of the tax increases in the pipeline or under active consideration in Vermont will hit the middle. The gas tax. The property tax. (Yes, I know that’s not under state control. But it’s still a tax increase.) The soda tax, or its cousin, the sales tax on junk food. The break-open tax, aimed squarely at one of the popular amusements of the working class.

Take all these charts together, and you see a clear and convincing case for raising taxes on the wealthy. The top earners, making huge money and paying around 8%, are not “taxed out,” as the Governor likes to assert. The middle, paying ten and a half percent, are the ones who are taxed out.

Let’s talk pure politics for a moment, and set aside all that moral and ethical stuff. Instead of nickel-and-diming the working poor and middle class who already pay more than their share, and making it seem like the Democrats want to tax everything, why not a clear, clean tax increase on the wealthy?

I don’t have to answer that one. Governor Shumlin doesn’t like it.

Well, the Governor is wrong.  

Ah, tax flight… the Boogeyman our governor uses to scare us away from raising taxes on wealthy Vermonters. Take this little bedtime story from Wednesday’s news conference.

There’s a point of no return on progressive taxation. There’s a point where, as you know, income taxes are portable.We know that Vermonters already migrate to Florida, New Hampshire, and other states to avoid paying income taxes. The higher your rates, the more they migrate.

It makes sense as long as you don’t think too hard. Especially with New Hampshire right across the river — so close that, as the Governor is constantly reminding us, he can see it from his house.

But then I wondered: if rich folk are motivated to move by high taxes, why didn’t they all leave long ago? I mean, look at these numbers from our friends at the Institute for Taxation and Economic Policy:

Total state and local tax burden for the top 1% in Vermont: 8.0%

Total state and local tax burden for the top 1% in New Hampshire:  2.4%

Geesh. Our richest, and most mobile, Vermonters could save a damn bundle by moving to New Hampshire — a state that shares many of Vermont’s advantages: great scenic beauty, mountains, lakes, a whole lot of luxury housing. Hell, in New Hampshire you can even live near the ocean and eat lobster every night.

The top 1% pay a whopping 5.6% higher taxes in Vermont than in New Hampshire. For a millionaire, that’s $56,000 a year — the list price of a 2014 Corvette.

So I ask again: why does Vermont still have any millionaires to lose?

The answer, of course, is that tax flight is a myth.

After the jump: Exploding the myth.

It’s been disproven by study after study. An excellent summary — with links to the full studies — has been posted by Citizens for Tax Justice.

CTJ cites five separate studies involving states that raised taxes on the wealthy. In all five cases, tax flight was negligible.

Example: In 1996, California cut taxes on high earners; there was no discernible in-migration. In 2005, California raised its top income tax rate by a full percentage point; there was no discernible out-migration. In fact, after the 2005 tax hike, out-migration actually declined among millionaires.

Another: In 2004, New Jersey enacted a rather stunning tax hike on incomes over $500,000 — from 6.37% to the current 8.97%. A subsequent study found no evidence of tax flight.  (There was a small net out-migration; but there was an equal out-migration among those earning between $200,000 and $500,000, whose taxes did not go up at all.)

So, why do rich people (or other people, for that matter) move? A state’s tax burden is extremely low on the list. Factors that make a bigger difference include employment opportunities, housing prices, family reasons, change in marital status, climate, the draw of a particular city or town, and recreational or cultural opportunities. High-tax states are attractive places in many ways; they have enough money to support quality public services, schools, roads, infrastructure, amenities. This issue is thoroughly explored in a study from the Center on Budget and Policy Priorities.

Now, there have been bits and pieces of evidence that seem to prove the reality of tax flight. But they’re based on misinterpretations of the data.

Some have cited a big turnover in top earners after a tax hike. But the fact is, there’s always a lot of churn at the top end. The California study reported that “At the most, migration accounts for 1.2% of the annual changes in the millionaire population.” The other 98.8% is due to yearly fluctuations in incomes, that move rich taxpayers above or below the top bracket. The California researchers add:

“Most people who earn $1 million or more are having an unusually good year. Income for these individuals was notably lower in years past, and will decline in future years as well. A representative “millionaire” will only have a handful of years in the $1 million + tax bracket. The somewhat temporary nature of very-high earnings is one reason why the tax changes examined here generate no observable tax flight. It is difficult to migrate away from an unusually good year of income.”

One dramatic example of this fact, which has been cited as evidence for tax flight: In 2007, Maryland raised its top tax rates for individuals earning over $150,000 and families earning over $200,000. The following year, Maryland saw a massive 13.4% decline in its millionaire population. Aha, you might be saying: Tax flight!

Well, no. You might recall that in 2008, our economy imploded. In Maryland,as elsewhere, a whole lot of 2007 millionaires became “hundred thousandaires” in 2008. The number of taxpayers in the second, third and fourth highest tax brackets — between $150,000 and $999,999 — increased dramatically, and more than compensated for the drop in millionaires.

All those folks saw their taxes increase in 2008. The truth is, hardly anyone moved out of Maryland; they just saw their taxable incomes shrink. And Maryland’s public finances were much stronger during the Great Recession thanks to the 2007 tax hike.

In short, there is no credible evidence that modest tax increases cause the wealthy to flee. Governor Shumlin may believe it, and he may loudly and repeatedly assert his belief; but it simply is not true.  

There were basically two parts to the Governor’s weekly presser Wednesday. I previously reported on the first part: his announcement that health care reform is making good progress, and that its guiding force, Anya Rader Wallack, is stepping down in six months. After that, the discussion turned to taxes, and the Governor’s opposition to raising taxes he doesn’t want to raise.

And as before, he failed to make a coherent case. He made a lot of false or misleading assertions, and spent a fair bit of time punching straw men. He even tried out a couple of new arguments, which were no more effective than the ones he’s back-burnered. And that’s been his problem throughout this legislative session: he has presented unpopular proposals without buy-in from top lawmakers, and he has made misleading (and worse, easily disproven) arguments on behalf of his plans. It doesn’t exactly engender a sense of trust, y’know?

I’m doing a blow-by-blow here, so if you don’t have the time or patience to wade through all this verbiage, I recommend Paul “The Huntsman” Heintz’ take on our gubernatorial tax colloquium.

And now, it’s time for Tax Talk with the Governor!

He began by saying that the House’s tax-and-spending plan “doesn’t do everything I want, but no budget does.” His overall assessment: “I think the House did a good job on the budget, and obviously I’m less pleased with the tax package.”

How displeased? “Exactly very displeased.”  

When pressed for “an analogy” by VPR’s Kirk Carapezza (those public radio guys and their liberal arts degrees), he unloaded a whopper.

If you told me that I had to jump from a window, I would go for the highest building that I could find to jump, to make sure that I wasn’t here to see that tax package become law.

I expected Sue Allen or one of his health officials to add a quick PSA on behalf of suicide prevention, but nope.

And then we got heavy-duty into the realm of embellishment. Starting with his wildly unpopular plan to slash the state’s share of the Earned Income Tax Credit, one of the most effective means of keeping low-income people out of poverty — and one of the most progressive elements of our tax system.

First, he disagreed with the portrayal of the EITC cut as a tax increase:

84 cents of every EITC dollar in Vermont comes from other taxpayers in the state. We are reallocating that money.

If you look at the lower income level, they pay very little income tax. Those at the top pay the most. So when you take the EITC and reallocate it, you’re reallocating 84 cents of every dollar from Vermonters who are paying taxes right now. You cannot call that a new tax, I’m sorry.

It is true that the lowest income levels pay very little income tax. It’s also true that they get hit hard by sales and property taxes. According to the Institute on Taxation and Economic Policy, our overall tax burden is distributed almost evenly across income levels: the bottom 20% pay 8.7% in state and local taxes. The top earners pay 8%. If you cut the EITC, income inequality will increase in Vermont.

And technically, the Governor is correct when he calls this a “reallocation” rather than a tax increase. But the truth is, it would take money away from the working poor. If you don’t want to call it a “tax increase”, then call it a benefit cut. Is that better?

Next question: “Do [EITC recipients] have the capacity to lose that portion, whereas wealthier Vermonters are tapped out?”

Listen. This we know. There’s a point of no return on progressive taxation. There’s a point where, as you know, income taxes are portable. I’ve argued this before. We know that Vermonters already migrate to Florida, New Hampshire, and other states to avoid paying income taxes. The higher your rates, the more they migrate. Right now we ask them to pay 8.9 cents of every dollar. I believe that that’s high enough, that we’re going to lose more than we gain.

Uh, first of all, the studies I’ve seen do NOT show that tax increases cause rich people to flee. There is, if anything, a very minor effect. People move for a wide variety of reasons; tax burden is low on the list. Things like family, job opportunities, and climate play a much larger role. As does “quality of government” and “availability of services,” for which many wealthy people are willing to pay. That’s why they don’t all move to Mississippi.

And second, we do NOT “ask them to pay 8.9 cents of every dollar.” The top income tax rate is 8.95%, but because Vermont is one of only six states to impose its tax on “taxable income” rather than “adjusted gross income,” the effective top income tax rate (according to ITEP) is 5.2%, not 8.95%.

The Governor continued, and kinda-sorta punted on his whole “tax flight” mantra.

Now, some will argue, they look at these charts and they say, well, you know, for all those 1207 Vermonters that you drive out, you bring more in at the same time. Well, I look at government the same way I looked at business. My job as Governor is to keep the customers we have, who are payin’ a ton of money to Vermont, and bring in more! If our 1207 or 1217 Vermonters went to 1317 or 1417, we wouldn’t have the revenue problems we have right now. Now, you can deny that if you wish. But income taxes are portable. We’re asking the wealthiest to pay the most. That’s what we should do. But you can’t ask them to pay twice. You just can’t. Because they won’t.

In other words, maybe rich Vermonters won’t actually move out, or maybe the vast majority will stay, but we might suffer a loss of in-migration among wealthy people if we raise taxes. Well, that’s a very different and absolutely unprovable argument.

At this point, the Vermont Press Bureau’s Peter Hirschfeld asked the same question I’d brought up last week: Shumlin’s comments to a New Jersey newspaper slamming Governor Chris Christie for refusing to raise taxes on “millionaires and billionaires.”

Let me be clear. I was encouraging Chris Christie to go to the high progressive income tax rates that Vermont has now.

At which point I jumped in and made the point about taxable income and AGI. Because New Jersey bases its income tax on AGI, it actually takes a substantially bigger bite from top earners than does Vermont. Here’s how the Governor responded:

Yeah, but you’re talking about averages.

And then he immediately pivoted back to his canned talking points about Christie.

Listen, here’s the point. I answered this one last week. Chris Christie has launched the biggest property tax increases which hits middle class New Jerseyites right in the teeth. He is one of the few Governors in America who hasn’t seen any job growth. This is a state where a Governor went out and said, ‘You elect me, and I’m going to do the New Jersey comeback.’ It’s been the New Jersey fallback. Higher property taxes, higher tax burdens, and dwindling job growth. That’s not a recipe for re-election.

Let’s leave the obvious point that this has nothing to do with Shumlin’s statement about taxing the rich, and go back to his “answer” to my question.

Yeah, but you’re talking about averages.

What the frak is that supposed to mean? Of course I’m talking averages. The average wealthy New Jerseyite paid an effective state income tax rate of 6.6%. The average rich Vermonter paid 5.2%. Yes, I’m talking averages. Is that supposed to be an answer to my question?

Now, New Jersey’s overall tax system is, in fact, substantially less progressive than Vermont’s. And one of the biggest reasons is that New Jersey has a much less generous EITC system than Vermont. Well, it does unless Governor Shumlin has his way.

Hirschfeld then came back with “You understand the confusion, though? When you say one thing down there and another thing up here?”

That is not true. I mentioned property taxes, I mentioned jobs in my comments to the Ledger. I mentioned all the things I just mentioned now. You’re picking one little piece out of an overall criticism of a four-year record. And I believe I’m right. And the Democratic Governors Association joins me in believing I’m right. We can elect a Governor who will grow jobs, grow opportunities, not see property taxes increase, not see jobs dwindle. That’s the point on Chris Christie.

Well, of course we’re “picking one little piece.” Because it’s the “one little piece” that’s directly at odds with one of the central policy pillars of the Shumlin Administration.  That’s what we do: point out inconsistencies and hypocrisies.

Paul Heintz then chimed in: “But are you contesting that one piece that Mr. Hirschfeld is bringing up?”

Team, sometimes I think I’m on a comedy show. I’ve answered the question. As you know, I firmly believe that Chris Christie isn’t the rights Governor for New Jersey because he’s not growing jobs, he’s not growing economic opportunities, property taxes are rising, and the middle class is getting kicked in the teeth.

Yeah, Governor, and sometimes I think I’m in the Twilight Zone. We keep asking the same questions because you keep dodging them.

And this is when Sue Allen said “Thank you,” signaling the end of the news conference. Channel 5’s Stewart Ledbetter actually got in one more question — a softball about Shumlin’s views of marriage equality. He was happy to answer that one, but he’d clearly had enough of our tax questions.

As we left the room, one of my fellow reporters jokingly asked me if the Governor had “answered my question.” I said yes, in the sense that he followed my question with a series of words that ended in a period.  

In no other sense did he answer the question. But that’s been a consistent pattern on tax issues this year: shifting, and unconvincing, rationales and arguments. If he truly wants to get the Legislature on his side, he’s going to have to do a better job of stating his case.