What does Blanche Lincoln want, and why does she want it?
The question is, at the moment, more consequential than it might normally be. As a member of the small, happy band of moderate Democrats who control the fate of health care reform, the heretofore obscure senior senator from Arkansas has been getting a lot of attention lately from both opponents and supporters of reform. She’s also been fielding a lot more calls from reporters: The Washington Post published a profile of Lincoln about a week ago, and in the last few days she has been at the center of stories in The New York Times, the Los Angeles Times and Politico.
Which makes it a bit surprising that, from reading this latest round of coverage, it’s actually kind of hard to tell what Lincoln wants. While these stories devote a lot of space to Lincoln’s political predicament—supporting the bill could make her more vulnerable to Republican attacks in her 2010 re-election campaign, while opposing it could cost her vital Democratic support—they say little about her policy priorities other than her opposition to any meaningful public option.
Actually, the NYT’s Lincoln story, which appeared in print Sunday, said even less than that. As Spencer Ackerman notes, the story doesn’t explain any of Lincoln’s misgivings about the Democratic proposal. After quoting Lincoln’s vague comment that she is “thinking about the 450,000 Arkansans who have no health insurance,” the article immediately moves on to its real interest:
Yet the political implications are inescapable. Of the swing-state Democrats struggling with the health care issue, Mrs. Lincoln, a 49-year-old mother of twins who is married to a physician, is one of the few set to be on the ballot next year. Republicans are lining up to oppose her in a state where President Obama performed badly in the 2008 election.
And so on. We never do hear Lincoln’s views about what she thinks will help those Arkansans. To be fair to the Times, its main story on the Senate bill did quote Lincoln’s floor statement, in which she announced that she would not support the “public option” as currently proposed. Normally, though, a story dedicated to a key lawmaker’s role should include more detail about her views, not less, than the general wrap-up.
The LA Times and Politico pieces, which both appear to be more ambitious and more deeply reported than the Times story, fare better, but only to a point. The LAT article offers reporting from Arkansas, so readers actually get to meet some of Lincoln’s constituents. Again, though, the focus is on Lincoln’s political dilemma. It isn’t until near the end of the story that we hear anything about her views, and even then it’s pretty thin:
After equivocating, Lincoln came out against the [public option], even with a provision allowing states to opt out. As federal taxpayers, she said, Arkansans would be “on the hook” for any costs regardless of the state’s participation.
…True to her moderate leanings, Lincoln talks of incremental change. She noted that many of the uninsured in Arkansas — about 500,000, or roughly 1 in 6 — could be covered under existing programs, such as Medicare, if they just signed up. “I have a problem with trying to re-create the wheel,” Lincoln said.
Replace the LAT’s quotes from Lincoln’s Arkansan constituents with some comments from inside-the-Beltway types, and you’ll have a pretty good sense of what the Politico story is like. After an opening anecdote and some boilerplate quotes from Lincoln, we’re into the territory of approval ratings, political strategists, and micro-scandals about when her intentions became public. And then, finally, this:On Saturday, Lincoln stressed that, in the end, she would not vote for Reid’s version of the public option, which would allow states to opt out of the plan. She said she wanted a complete “alternative” to the public plan, such as nonprofit insurance providers that would compete with private insurers.
It sounds like she may be harking back to the discarded “co-op” idea—but that’s not really clear, because the story doesn’t pursue this thread.