New Republicans

On a political landscape that once looked bleak, a sign of hope

This has been a particularly low political year. Across the country, the old culture wars -- over abortion, homosexuality, and other hot-button issues -- have resurfaced with a vicious edge. In Massachusetts, the last great bipartisan governor, the liberal Republican Frank Sargent, passed away in the midst of the most negative gubernatorial campaign in memory. And serving as backdrop for it all has been the excruciating and seemingly interminable impeachment drama in Washington.

But now there is a bit of hope, and from a surprising source: the GOP. A group of more moderate, less vitriolic Republicans is in ascendance.

The most visible sign, of course, is the fall of Newt Gingrich. Gingrich was the canonical opposition politician, brilliant at ripping down his opponents. He gained the public spotlight by throwing rhetorical bombs from the back benches of the House of Representatives, waxing outrageous before the C-SPAN cameras. Then, in 1994, he was swept into the Speakership by the Republican revolution. But he was never able to make the transition from pit bull to policymaker. His Contract with America was long on tax breaks for the wealthy and short on compassion. His rhetorical excesses allowed critics to lampoon as Dickensian even his more worthwhile ideas, such as placing the children of crack-addicted parents in orphanages to give them a chance at a better life. And he was utterly outmaneuvered by Bill Clinton in the government shutdown of 1995.

Bob Livingston, who will apparently be the new Speaker, has shown every sign that he will focus more on governing and less on caricaturing the opposition. Livingston is known as a conservative with a temper. But he has indicated that he was able to read last week's election results; time will tell whether or not his decency is poll-driven.

The true change goes far beyond Gingrich's downfall; it is symbolized most profoundly by the rise of a new breed of Republican governors. For some years now, Republicans such as Massachusetts's Bill Weld, Wisconsin's Tommy Thompson, and New Jersey's Christine Todd Whitman have shown that it's possible to be conservative without dragging one's knuckles on the cave floor. Despite a dispiriting campaign, Weld's successor, Paul Cellucci, is from the same mold, and in the past week he has spoken out forcefully against right-wing extremism. Now, with the emergence of Texas governor George W. Bush as the Republicans' leading presidential candidate for 2000, and the election of his brother Jeb as governor of Florida, that trend has solidified.

These New Republicans -- if one can borrow the terminology used to describe centrist New Democrats such as Bill Clinton and Al Gore -- are conservatives who differ profoundly from most Democrats on many policy issues (George W., for example, is anti-choice). But they understand that it is possible to express those differences with some measure of civility, and without demonizing the opposition. (Ironically, that stands in stark contrast to the Bush brothers' father, who, despite his "kinder, gentler" speeches, ran vicious presidential campaigns in which he called into question the patriotism of his opponents, Michael Dukakis in 1988 and Clinton in 1992.)

The last election makes it clear that, for the most part, voters are not interested in the hatreds peddled by cultural conservatives. This does not mean that there are not huge, difficult ideological questions before us. Where, for example, is the precise dividing line between church and state? What is the best way to help the poor? What role should America play in the world? What is really behind the education crisis -- and how can we fix it?

But when politicians combine passion with a respect for the opposition, the public feels welcome and joins the debate. The nation can move forward, united. When the words turn too bitter, the public grows dispirited -- and, as we hope Republicans are learning, angry

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