Grievous offenses all, I have no doubt. Still, my advice to you idealists of the right is this: Get over it. Not for sell-out reasons like: Romney has the best chance of beating Obama. No. You should get behind the charging Massachusetts RINO (your favorite term for a Republican-In-Name-Only sellout type) because, in a certain paradoxical way, he may turn out to be the truest of all the candidates to the spirit of your movement.

After all, given everything you represent, why wouldn’t you line up behind this quarter-billionaire who’s calling for just a little human love and sympathy for billionaires? I’m sure you already understand me perfectly well, but just to be certain, let me make the case.

The Gimme Candidate of 2012

Start with those issues where Romney’s positions so offend the sensibilities of you Robespierre Republicans. First, of course, the social issues. If nothing else, you in the Tea Party movement have spent the last three years teaching Americans that they no longer matter — not when we’re supposedly in a battle for the very soul of capitalism.

And here comes Mitt Romney, the soul of American capitalism in the flesh. Look back over his career as a predator drone at Bain Capital: Isn’t it the exact sort of background you always insist politicians ought to have? Isn’t it the sort of titanic enterprise for which you lust, as you wave your copy of “Atlas Shrugged” in the air?

You accuse the former Massachusetts governor of opportunism, but from where I stand, the bad faith is all on your side. What offends you about Romney’s Massachusetts healthcare plan, for example, isn’t that it crushes human liberty, but that it provided the model for President Obama’s own healthcare overhaul, which you spent the last two years decrying as the deed of a power-grabbing socialist.

If the public ever learns about the Republican provenance of Obamacare — and if Romney is the candidate, they most certainly will — it will become obvious that your movement was not telling the truth about all that Kenyan Stalinist death-panel stuff. It is indeed a moment to fear, that day when the nation finds out that you were, ahem, exaggerating in your bullhorn pronouncements about the communist in the White House. Still, if the Tea Party movement is all about truth-telling and straight shooting, then you need to face it like a patriot.

And yes, Mitt Romney has also said that the bank bailouts of 2008-2009 were necessary, while you regard them as a mortal sin against free-market principles. (To his credit though, at least in your eyes, he was also a total hardliner about the auto industry bailouts, displaying the pointless meanness you seem to admire in nearly any other politician.) In truth, though, the candidate’s only offense on the bailout question was his candor. He merely admitted what should be obvious to any billionaire from a study of bank history: that conservatives have no problem doling out, or grabbing for, government money when the chips are down.

After all, President Herbert Hoover himself distributed bank bailouts in the early years of the Great Depression. Calvin Coolidge’s vice president, Charles Dawes, helped out in Hoover’s bailout operation, later changing hats and grabbing a big slice of the bailout pie for his own bank. Ronald Reagan’s administration rescued Continental Illinois from what was then the largest bank failure in our history.

Citibank’s market-worshiping CEO Walter Wriston begged for (and of course received) the assistance of big government when Citi needed it — after making loans to the troubled Penn Central Railroad. And don’t forget, every single one of you is guilty of taking a government bailout any time you make a withdrawal from a bank that’s been rescued by the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation.

The reason they — I mean, you — do these things should be as obvious as it is simple: “Free market” has always been a high-minded way of saying “gimme,” and when the heat rises, the “market” is invariably replaced by more direct methods, like demanding bailouts from the government you hate. Banks get bailouts for the simple reason that they want bailouts and have the power to insist on them — the same circumstances that got them deregulated in wave after wave in the Eighties, Nineties and Aughts.

In this sense, Romney, who is loud and proud when it comes to the need for further deregulation, has actually been more consistent than you. He’s the gimme candidate of 2012 and so he should really be your guy.

Promethean Job Creators and Heroes of Venture Capital

You say Romney is an unprincipled faker. Fair enough — he is. He’s so plastic he’s almost animatronic. But have you looked in the mirror recently? Aren’t you the ones who fall for it every time Fox News wheels out some Washington hack to confuse this or that corporate issue with the sacred cause of freedom or states rights or man’s inalienable right to mine uranium in his backyard? Aren’t you the ones who thought that Glenn Beck’s tears were markers of emotional sincerity? And for Pete’s sake, your populist Tea Party movement was actually launched from the floor of the Chicago Board of Trade!

I know, I know: For almost three years now you’ve dazzled the world with your proclamations that we’re being dragged into “tyranny,” that the country is being “destroyed,” that America needs to be “saved” — and now here comes Mitt, with his fondness for workaday compromise, ruining your carefully contrived atmosphere of panic.

That must be disappointing, but don’t lose the faith! Give the man credit: He has tried. He’s no stranger to the core Tea Party myth of the noble businessman persecuted by big government. Indeed, at the Conservative Political Action Congress in 2009, he opened his talk as a stand-up comic this way: “I gotta get through this speech before federal officials come here and arrest me for practicing capitalism.”

Meanwhile, he has the perfect Tea Party sense of social class. A centimillionaire who made his pile as a venture capitalist, Romney has both deplored class warfare — meaning, certain criticisms of Wall Street — and practiced it, taunting President Obama as a modern version of Marie (“let them eat cake”) Antoinette.

There’s no contradiction in any of this, either for him or you. When someone has made his way in life via academia, like the president, he is, of course, a snob, and part of the ruling elite. When, on the other hand, a person’s multi-millions were visited upon him by open-market actions directed from the C-suite, he is automatically a man of the people, a horny-handed son of toil. In fact, Romney takes this kind of market populism a step farther than you ordinarily dare: Corporations, he has famously announced, are themselves people.

And keep in mind that, with Mitt Romney, venture capitalist, carrying your banner in 2012, you will finally get to submit your capsized vision of social class to the verdict of the people — the actual flesh-and-blood people, that is, not the corporate “people” who make up the S&P 500. You will get to defend exactly the sort of “person” your movement has longed to defend since it was birthed by a CNBC reporter almost three years ago to the cheers of a bunch of derivatives traders in Chicago.

You will get to explain your peculiar conviction that the way to react to a gigantic slump brought on by frenzied finance is to unshackle Wall Street. You will get to line up behind a heroic businessman, like those rugged, resourceful fellows in the Ayn Rand novels you love. You will get to go into battle for the job creators, which is what all capitalists are, right? (Well, okay, maybe not the guys at Bain Capital, the particular outfit where Romney made his pile, but the theory is all that really matters, isn’t it?)

Indeed, your leadership cadre is already playing up the inevitable criticisms of Romney as a job decimator as a way of launching a grand debate about capitalism — by which they mean, of course, freedom itself. When Newt Gingrich criticized Romney a few weeks ago for his career in private equity, the airwaves of your winger-tainment world exploded with outrage. “This is the kind of risk-taking, free-market capitalism that most people who call themselves conservatives applaud,” intoned Brit Hume on Fox News. If Newt had a problem with Bain’s operations, announced syndicated columnist Jonah Goldberg, “then Gingrich really doesn’t believe in capitalism at all.”

Washington Post columnist George Will declared that what Romney did in his venture capitalist days was an “essential social function,” that his company was “indispensable for wealth creation.” (Just whose wealth was being created he left discreetly undefined.) Yaron Brook, head of the Ayn Rand Center and a familiar figure at Tea Party events, is no fan of Romney’s, but he had this to say about Romney’s career: “Private equity serves an incredibly important productive function in our economy… Private equity is in my view a heroic activity.”

“Heroic”: That’s exactly the word! In Romney we have finally found a quarter-billionaire to cry for. And so Suzy Welch, author and wife of Jack, appeared on Fox Business to wonder why Romney wasn’t defending himself aggressively against criticism of his business career. Romney, she announced, is “an American hero to people who believe in free enterprise, or he should be.”

And that combination of tragedy and heroism, my friends, is why you will soon be signing up for the Romney juggernaut. In him you will see the saintly victimhood of Sarah Palin melded with the Promethean job-creator who was the cult object of your 2010 efforts. Social issues be damned! Romney will ensure that we get the one thing that this country can’t do without on its path to hell: further deregulation of Wall Street.

The nation’s all-powerful elitist socialists will, of course, disagree, and you’ll have a field day, raging and weeping at the way they are going to set out to persecute this noble, wealth-creating soul.

Pity the billionaire: It will be a powerful rallying cry for 2012.

Yours in petulant individualism,

Tom

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How are we to dissect a deluge like this one? We might begin by categorizing the earmarks handed out by Congress, sorting the foolish earmarks from the costly earmarks from the earmarks made strictly on a cash basis. We could try a similar approach to government contracting: the no-bid contracts, the no-oversight contracts, the no-experience contracts, the contracts handed out to friends of the vice president. We might consider the shoplifting career of one of the president’s former domestic policy advisors or the habitual plagiarism of the president’s liaison to the Christian right. And we would certainly have to find some way to parse the extraordinary incompetence of the executive branch, incompetence so fulsome and steady and reliable that at some point Americans stopped being surprised and began simply to count on it, to think of incompetence as the way government works.

But the onrushing flow swamps all taxonomies. Mass firing of federal prosecutors; bribing of newspaper columnists; pallets of shrink-wrapped cash “misplaced” in Iraq; inexperienced kids running the Baghdad stock exchange; the discovery that many of Alaska’s leading politicians are apparently on the take — our heads swim. We climb to the rooftop, but we cannot find the heights of irony from which we might laugh off the blend of thug and Pharisee that was Tom DeLay — or dispel the nauseating suspicion, quickly becoming a certainty, that the government of our nation deliberately fibbed us into a pointless, catastrophic war.

Bad apples all around

So let us begin on the solid ground of these simple facts: This spectacular episode of misrule has coincided with both the political triumph of conservatism and with the rise of the Washington area to the richest rank of American metropolises. In the period I am describing, gentlemen of the right rolled through the capital like lords of creation. Every spigot was open, and every indulgence slopped out for their gleeful wallowing. All the clichés roared at full, unembarrassed volume: the wines gurgled, the T-bones roasted, the golf courses beckoned, the Learjets zoomed, the contractors’ glass buildings sprouted from the earth, and the lobbyists’ mansions grew like brick-colonial mushrooms on the hills of northern Virginia.

Democrats, for their part, have tried to explain the flood of misgovernment as part of a “culture of corruption,” a phrase at once obviously true and yet so amorphous as to be quite worthless. Republicans have an even simpler answer: Government failed, they tell us, because it is the nature of government enterprises to fail. As for the great corruption cases of recent years, they cluck, each is merely a one-of-a-kind moral lapse unconnected to any particular ideology — an individual bad apple with no effect on the larger barrel.

Which leaves us to marvel helplessly at what appears to be a spectacular run of lousy luck. My, what a lot of bad apples they are growing these days!

Corruption is uniquely reprehensible in a democracy because it violates the system’s first principle, which we all learned back in the sunshiny days of elementary school: that the government exists to serve the public, not particular companies or individuals or even elected officials. We Are the Government, insisted the title of a civics primer published in the earnest year of 1945. “The White House belongs to you,” its dust jacket told us. “So do all the other splendid buildings in Washington, D.C. For you are a citizen of the United States.” For you, young citizen, does the Post Office carry letters to every hamlet in the nation. For you does the Department of Agriculture research better plowing methods and the Bureau of Labor Statistics add up long columns of numbers.

The government and its vast workforce serve the people: The idea is so deep in the American grain that we can’t bring ourselves to question it, even in this disillusioned age. Republicans and Democrats may fight over how big government should be and exactly what it should do, but almost everyone shares those baseline good intentions, we believe, that devotion to the public interest.

We continue to believe this in even the most improbable circumstances. Take the worst apple of them all, lobbyist Jack Abramoff, whose astonishing career as a corruptionist has been unreeling in newspaper and congressional investigations since I came to Washington. Abramoff started out as a great political success story, a protégé and then a confidant of the leaders of the conservative faction of the Republican Party. But his career disintegrated on news of the inventive ways he ripped off his clients and the luxury meals and lavish trips with which he bribed legislators.

Journalistic coverage of the Abramoff affair has stuck closely to the “bad apple” thesis, always taking pains to separate the conservative movement from its onetime superstar. What Abramoff represented was “greed gone wild,” asserts the most authoritative account on the subject. He “went native,” say others. Above all, he was “sui generis,” a one-of-a-kind con man, “engaged in bizarre antics that your average Zegna-clad Washington lobbyist would never have dreamed of.”

In which case, we can all relax: Jack Abramoff’s in jail. The system worked; the bad apple has been plucked; the wild greed and the undreamed-of antics have ceased.

Misgovernment by ideology

But the truth is almost exactly the opposite, whether we are discussing Abramoff or the wider tsunami of corruption. The truth is as obvious as a slab of sirloin and yet so obscured by decades of pettifoggery that we find it almost impossible to apprehend clearly. The truth slaps your face in every hotel lobby in town, but we still don’t get the message.

It is just this: Fantastic misgovernment of the kind we have seen is not an accident, nor is it the work of a few bad individuals. It is the consequence of triumph by a particular philosophy of government, by a movement that understands the liberal state as a perversion and considers the market the ideal nexus of human society. This movement is friendly to industry not just by force of campaign contributions but by conviction; it believes in entrepreneurship not merely in commerce but in politics; and the inevitable results of its ascendance are, first, the capture of the state by business and, second, all that follows: incompetence, graft, and all the other wretched flotsam that we’ve come to expect from Washington.

The correct diagnosis is the “bad apple” thesis turned upside down. There are plenty of good conservative individuals, honorable folks who would never participate in the sort of corruption we have watched unfold over the last few years. Hang around with grassroots conservative voters in Kansas, and in the main you will find them to be honest, hardworking people. Even our story’s worst villains can be personally virtuous. Jack Abramoff, for example, is known to his friends as a pious, polite and generous fellow.

But put conservatism in charge of the state, and it behaves very differently. Now the “values” that rightist politicians eulogize on the stump disappear, and in their place we can discern an entirely different set of priorities — priorities that reveal more about the unchanging historical essence of American conservatism than do its fleeting campaigns against gay marriage or secular humanism. The conservatism that speaks to us through its actions in Washington is institutionally opposed to those baseline good intentions we learned about in elementary school.

Its leaders laugh off the idea of the public interest as airy-fairy nonsense; they caution against bringing top-notch talent into government service; they declare war on public workers. They have made a cult of outsourcing and privatizing, they have wrecked established federal operations because they disagree with them, and they have deliberately piled up an Everest of debt in order to force the government into crisis. The ruination they have wrought has been thorough; it has been a professional job. Repairing it will require years of political action.

Conservatism-in-power is a very different beast from the conservatism we meet on the streets of Wichita or the conservatism we overhear talking to itself on the pages of Free Republic. For one thing, what conservatism has done in its decades at the seat of power is fundamentally unpopular, and a large percentage of its leaders have been men of eccentric ideas. While they believe things that would get them laughed out of the American Sociological Association, that only makes them more typical of the movement. And for all their peculiarity, these people — Grover Norquist, Tom DeLay, Jack Abramoff, Newt Gingrich, and the whole troupe of activists, lobbyists, and corpora-trons who got their start back in the Reagan years — have for the last three decades been among the most powerful individuals in America. This wave of misgovernment has been brought to you by ideology, not incompetence.

Yes, today’s conservatives have disgraced themselves, but they have not strayed from the teaching of their forefathers or the great ideas of their movement. When conservatives appoint the opponents of government agencies to head those government agencies; when they auction their official services to the purveyor of the most lavish “golf weekend”; when they mulct millions from groups with business before Congress; when they dynamite the Treasury and sabotage the regulatory process and force government shutdowns — in short, when they treat government with contempt — they are running true to form. They have not done these awful things because they are bad conservatives; they have done them because they are good conservatives, because these unsavory deeds follow naturally from the core doctrines of the conservative tradition.

And, yes, there has been greed involved in the effort — a great deal of greed. Every tax cut, every cleverly engineered regulatory snafu saves industry millions and perhaps even billions of dollars, and so naturally securing those tax cuts and engineering those snafus has become a booming business here in Washington. Conservative rule has made the capital region rich, a showplace of the new plutocratic order. But this greed cannot be dismissed as some personal failing of lobbyist or congressman, some badness-of-apple that can be easily contained. Conservatism, as we know it, is a movement that is about greed, about the “virtue of selfishness” when it acts in the marketplace. In right-wing Washington, you can be a man of principle and a boodler at the same time.

The wrecking crew in full swing

One of the instructive stories We Are the Government brought before generations of schoolkids was the tale of a smiling dime whose wanderings were meant to introduce us to the government and all that it does for us: the miner who digs the ore for the dime has his “health and safety” supervised by one branch of the government; the bank in which the dime is stored enjoys the protection of a different branch, which “sees that [banks] are safe places for people to keep their money”; the dime gets paid in tax on a gasoline sale; it then lands in the pocket of a Coast Guard lieutenant, who takes it overseas and spends it on a parrot, which is “quarantined for 90 days” when the lieutenant brings it home. All of which is related with the blithest innocence, as though taxes on gasoline and quarantines on parrots were so obviously beneficial that they required little further explanation.

Clearly, a more up-to-date version is required. So let us follow the dime as it wends its way through our present-day capital. Its story, we will find, is the reverse of what it was in 1945. That old dime was all about service, about the things government could do for us. But the new dime is about profit — about the superiority of private enterprise, about the huge sums that can be squeezed out of federal operations. Instead of symbolizing good government, the dime now shows us the wrecking crew in full swing.

Our modern dime first comes to Washington as part of some good citizen’s taxes, and it leaves the U.S. Treasury in a payment to a company that has been hired to do work on the nation’s ports. Back in 1945, the government would have done the work itself, but now it uses contractors for such things. This particular contractor knows how to win a bid, but it doesn’t know how to do the work, so it subcontracts the job to another outfit. The dime follows, and it eventually makes up a worker’s salary, who incorporates it into his monthly car payment. From there it travels into the coffers of an auto industry trade association, which happens to be very upset about a rule proposed by a federal agency that would require cars to notify drivers when their tire pressure is low.

So the trade association gives the dime to a Washington consultant who specializes in fighting federal agencies, and this man launches challenge after challenge to the studies that the agency is using in the tire-pressure matter. It takes many years for the agency to make its way through the flak thrown up by this clever fellow. Meanwhile, with his well-earned dime, he buys himself a big house with nice white columns in front.

But this is only the beginning of the story. As we make our rounds of conservative Washington, we glimpse something much greater than single acts of incompetence or obstruction. We see a vast machinery built for our protection reengineered into a device for our exploitation. We behold the majestic workings of the free market itself, boring ever deeper into the tissues of the state. Ultimately, we gaze upon one of the true marvels of history: democracy buried beneath an avalanche of money.

Fortunately for the rest of us, though, Enron didn’t inherit the earth. The company may have promised to deliver greater “transparency” to energy markets, but upon inspection its own affairs turned out to be a tangled mess of lies, nepotism and exaggeration that included the overstatement of profits by some $586 million — a revelation that caused panic among investors and a catastrophic collapse for the mighty energy trader.

Nor will the obvious implications of the Enron affair be suppressed for long. Enron’s failings were in fact directly related to its corporate ideology, to its zealous, cult-like love of free markets. According to Wednesday’s Wall Street Journal, Enron fought fiercely and paid lavishly to limit or abolish federal oversight of its trading business; its trading business then collapsed for lack of oversight and accountability. It isn’t a coincidence when those who run ads mocking government regulators and saluting themselves as colossal rule breakers turn out to be engaged in literal rule breaking and regulation circumvention. Why are we feigning surprise?

Enron was the peerless darling of the all those who believed that free markets were the acme of existence. Its wreckage is as good a place as any to sit down and take stock of the deregulated, privatized state into which we’ve been so rudely hustled over the last decade. And here is what it looks like: Top management walking off with hundreds of millions of dollars while employees lose their jobs, investors lose millions and customers get to look forward to more rolling blackouts. Profiteering. Bought politicians. Stock market bubbles that inevitably burst. Workers thrown out on the streets. Left to its own devices, this is what the free market does.

Yes, Enron hoodwinked the world financially. But ultimately the more remarkable aspect of this tawdry corporate tale is the way Enron tricked us politically, the way its leaders persuaded the world that their passion for free markets, particularly in the field of electricity, was somehow equivalent to “revolution,” to “creativity,” to human freedom itself. That only when the corporations were free to romp the worlds as gods would we truly have achieved popular democracy.

For management gurus, Enron was a particularly hallowed operation. Once a simple natural gas pipeline concern, Enron turned itself into an energy trader with awesome ambitions, buying and selling contracts to deliver power across the country. Who needed pipelines and power plants and other mundane physical assets in the age of the Internet? This was a “new economy,” and in its last years Enron’s starstruck fans took to describing it as a full-blown “market maker,” a near-divine bringer of entrepreneurship and profit-taking to those slow-moving reaches of the economy where before there had only been regulation and an outmoded fixation on public service — water, electricity, “bandwidth.” And — Holy shit! — just look at those profits!

This is why recent years saw such precious expressions of Enronphilia as Gary Hamel’s 2000 book, “Leading the Revolution,” in which Enron is characterized as a “revolutionary” company, the home of “radical ideas” which “come from radical people,” where “new voices have the chance to get heard,” and where top brass say nice populist things like, “People are smarter than we are at the top.” Before Enron’s troubles became a crisis, Hamel and his hero Lay were even scheduled to appear together at a high-profile November guru-fest called the “Revolutionaries’ Ball.” (The event’s logo featured a red flag.) Enron’s own TV commercials exhorted viewers to ask the “confrontational” question, “Why?” — a word that supposedly has the power to “bring years of conventional assumptions to a jarring halt.” The company even equated its quest for free markets with the doings of folks like Gandhi, Lincoln, and the civil rights protesters of 1963 Birmingham. (I guess Jesus wasn’t available when they were filming.)

In April 2000 Fortune magazine imagined Enron as Elvis Presley, the mythical bringer of hipness to the desert of 1950s culture. I still find it hard to believe this passage appeared in a responsible magazine of business, so I reproduce it here in full:

“Imagine a country-club dinner dance, with a bunch of old fogies and their wives shuffling around halfheartedly to the not-so-stirring sounds of Guy Lombardo and his All-Tuxedo Orchestra. Suddenly young Elvis comes crashing through the skylight, complete with gold-lamé suit, shiny guitar, and gyrating hips. Half the waltzers faint; most of the others get angry or pouty. And a very few decide they like what they hear, tap their feet … start grabbing new partners, and suddenly are rocking to a very different tune. In the staid world of regulated utilities and energy companies, Enron Corp. is that gate-crashing Elvis.”

The adulation persisted right up to the end. The cover of the September edition of Business 2.0 carried a photo of Jeff Skilling, then the company’s CEO, giving the reader a big finger-over-lips “Shhhhhhh!” The secret Skilling wanted us to keep was not the devastating truth about Enron’s profits, but that the “Revolution Lives.” Yes, the dot-coms had tragically gone bust, but who cared about that? Enron’s metamorphosis into a “virtually integrated company” offered “glimmers of a possible future.” One trip to Enron’s Houston headquarters and anyone could see that the “revolutionary” truths of the new economy still thrived.

By the time the issue hit newsstands, however, it was Skilling himself who had mysteriously disappeared from the CEO’s office. Soon it was Enron’s legacy, not dot-com hype, that was being dismissed as insignificant by the desperate new-economy faithful. Enron’s scandal and collapse, it is now maintained, has absolutely nothing to do with the company’s worship of markets and its efforts to discredit government oversight and its long-running campaign to push privatization and deregulation. “No linkage!” screams the Wall Street Journal, piling on with no fewer than four editorials variously accusing Enron’s detractors of “schadenfreude,” declaring that Enron’s collapse actually discredited the foes of deregulation, insisting that Enron-style deregulation did too benefit consumers (because free markets always do, nyah-nyah), and smugly declaiming the libertarian line on California’s recent energy disaster: The state simply failed to deregulate enough.

Enron’s P.R. magic was still having an effect even in such critical quarters as NPR’s “Marketplace” program. One segment on the day of Enron’s collapse featured bereft employees declaring their faith in the company’s management (“These guys are brilliant people. They’re really smart. They know what they’re doing”) while another flatly declared that Enron — bless its soul — had worked to keep prices low for consumers and that its demise might lead to a spike in energy costs.

And Fortune, which had fawningly compared the company to Elvis, currently features a cover story headlined “The Enron Disaster.” Fortune now claims the problem was “the company’s critics didn’t throw enough rocks,” and asks, “Given the extent to which financial chicanery appears to have taken place, is someone going to jail?” But hey, even Elvis screwed up in his later years.

Enron’s business was, even in the best of times, difficult to understand. When writing a story about the company last June I could find no one able to explain precisely how Enron made what then seemed to be such impressive amounts of money. Clearly being a “market maker” entailed packaging a lot of innovative derivatives and contracts. It clearly also entailed considerable involvement in politics. As Business Week put it, “One of the biggest risks is that Enron simply can’t create the open markets it needs.” To do that it needed our help.

That’s why P.R. was such a large part of Enron’s mission. Not only did it sell itself as a defiant “revolutionary,” but it sold deregulation as both a great step forward for human freedom as well as an inevitability, something we couldn’t stop no matter what. Anyone who lives in a state where deregulation measures have been proposed knows what I’m talking about: The great tide of commercials and business-magazine stories and newspaper inserts all revolving around the predictable fake-revolutionary slogan, “Power to the People.”

And what voters in those states wouldn’t give Enron at the polls, the company achieved by other means, chief among them a massive — and perfectly legal — shower of boodle on influential political figures. The company and its executives routinely donated vast sums to both political parties, here and in Britain, thus helping the English-speaking world to achieve the free-market consensus that was, until recently, the pride of op-ed writers everywhere.

Enron CEO Kenneth Lay was a donor to the campaigns and a partner in the golf games of President Clinton, whose administration vigorously pushed Enron’s various foreign initiatives. Enron gave generously to House Majority Whip Tom Delay, R-Texas, who thoughtfully introduced an electricity deregulation bill. The company, of course, was largely responsible for the grooming of George W. Bush as a national figure. As governor of Texas Bush used to fly around the country in Enron corporate jets. In later years Enron distinguished itself as the single largest corporate donor to his campaign for the presidency.

The connections don’t stop there: Lay is a business acquaintance of Vice President Dick Cheney and is co-chairman of Barbara Bush’s Foundation for Family Literacy. Such was Enron’s clout with the administration that Lay, alone among electricity executives, was permitted to meet face to face with Cheney while the latter was cooking up the administration’s highly questionable energy plan. He also reportedly had a hand in choosing the personnel of the federal agency responsible for regulating his business. In Britain, where Enron profited nicely from the privatization of a regional water works, the company actually sponsored the 1998 annual meeting of the Labor Party.

An even more potent Enron weapon seems to have been to provide friendly legislators with cushy sinecures after their work on behalf of Enron had been done. The honor roll includes: Wendy Gramm, wife of Phil, who secured for Enron a crucial exemption from regulation in 1993 when she was working for the Commodity Futures Trading Commission, and who then slid comfortably into a seat on Enron’s board; Lord John Wakeham, the British Conservative politician who played a major role both in that country’s disastrous electricity privatization and also in Enron’s British water dealings, and who later received a seat on Enron’s board; Frank Wisner, the U.S. ambassador to India during the first Clinton administration, who helped Enron win the $3 billion contract to build the infamous Dahbol power plant in that country in 1993, and who then applied the necessary pressure when India began to develop cold feet, and who found a nice, warm board seat waiting for him, too, upon his retirement from the Foreign Service.

Former Montana governor and brand-new Republican national chairman Marc Racicot has done a hitch carrying the sacred banner of deregulation for Enron. Former Secretary of State James Baker has also logged time on the Enron payroll. Bush economist Lawrence Lindsay and U.S. Trade Representative Robert Zoellick enjoyed positions on Enron’s advisory board before their official duties commenced. And the generosity is bipartisan (though Republicans have been courted more lavishly): Two of former Vice President Al Gore’s close campaign buddies, Charles Bones and Johnny Hayes, have also swallowed Enron’s golden pills. Recall that the Whitewater investigation focused on just a few hundred thousand dollars, and you begin to understand how devastating to the free-market crowd — New Democrats and old Republicans alike — any investigation of Enron’s mega-million political dealings could turn out to be.

Those who are astonished that the name of Enron could even be uttered in the same sentence as “corruption” or “Whitewater” should know that the company has the peculiar distinction of being possibly the only corporation that is the subject of an Amnesty International report, which details the brutal treatment of protesting villagers near the Dabhol plant by Enron’s hired goons. An equally poignant account of the madly corrupt Enron corporate style was provided by John Kachamila, the natural resources minister for Mozambique, who had the honor of receiving a bid from Enron for a planned natural gas project. Pressure from the U.S. government to accept Enron’s bid soon followed.

Kachamila described the experience to the Houston Chronicle in 1995: “There were outright threats to withhold development funds if we didn’t sign, and sign soon. Their diplomats, especially Mike McKinley [then the charge d'affaires of the U.S. Embassy] pressured me to sign a deal that was not good for Mozambique. He was not a neutral diplomat. It was as if he was working for Enron. We got calls from American senators threatening us with this and that if we didn’t sign. Anthony Lake even called to tell us to sign. They put together a smear campaign against us, Enron was forever playing games with us and the embassy forever threatening to withdraw aid. Everyone was saying that we would not sign the deal because I wanted a percentage, when all I wanted was a better deal for the state.”

This is the sort of thing that is being referred to when Enron eulogists fret that the company’s “legacy” of deregulation is now at risk of being undone. And they are right to fret: Without the muscle behind it that the Enron billions provided, deregulation probably doesn’t stand a chance. If practical business matters — i.e., price and service — are the only factors taken into account, most municipalities would quickly choose local ownership or control over the Enron way.

During the California deregulation disaster, for example, prices for power shot up all across the state, except in the city of Los Angeles, which owns its own generating facilities. “Municipal utilities are more efficient on average and sell cheaper electricity and promote conservation,” says political economist Gar Alperovitz. They “serve the public in all those ways better than the private utilities.” When the priority is public service and not the survival of some well-connected middleman interested only in scoring sufficient profits to build its megalomaniac CEO a 50-room McMansion in suburban Houston, then public ownership fits the bill quite nicely.

But who cared about service when there was money to be made? A cardinal characteristic of the new-economy ’90s was the subjection of such mundane stuff to the ideology of the market. Markets, we were told, are always better and more democratic — by definition, in every industry, and in every age. And the American business press was only too happy to agree that what Enron was about was democracy and creativity, not corruption. Their readers have now learned that business school ideology makes a poor substitute for facts, and we have all learned the hollowness of deregulation’s promise. In return for handing our electricity systems over to the market and to Enron, we were told, we would be paid back with enhanced service and an ever-swelling stock portfolio. The California deregulation disaster should have eliminated all doubts about the first of these promises; Enron’s collapse has now put paid to the other.

Perhaps the real theological lesson to be learned from all this is the simple statement of relief uttered by a California Public Utilities commissioner when he learned of the great conglomerate’s destruction: “There is a God.”