Max Boot writes in his blurb for the book that it’s “not the work of some wild-eyed zealot,” but the book is clearly another of Yoo’s attempts to defend his more extreme legal theories, including those that have been roundly criticized by prominent Republicans who served in the Bush administration. Many of those theories — such as the executive’s right to authorize torture and to detain terror suspects indefinitely — are responsible for some of the worst conundrums that President Obama finds himself in today.

Whether cast as Hamiltonian or Machiavellian, Yoo’s point is that “great” presidents have always interpreted their powers broadly in times of crisis, and pesky critics at the time always denounced them for breaking the law. To illustrate this, Yoo rolls out the usual examples — Abraham Lincoln suspending habeas corpus during the Civil War, and Franklin Delano Roosevelt interning the Japanese during World War II.

Although careful not to call George W. Bush a “great” or even “above-average” president, Yoo argues that Bush’s decisions to suspend habeas corpus, use “coercive interrogation methods” (Yoo never uses the word torture) and indefinitely detain without charge “al Qaeda terrorists” (actually, terror suspects) were all simply par for the course — the actions any decent president would take under the circumstances. In Yoo’s view, this is not presidential lawbreaking, even if the president’s actions do violate existing laws. Rather, Yoo argues, the Constitution accommodates such lawbreaking — what Yoo calls “the need to respond to extraordinary events through the President’s executive power” — which apparently is limitless.

This is how, at the Office of Legal Counsel, Yoo managed to advise the president that he could ignore the legal bans on torture and even the Bill of Rights on U.S. soil. It’s too soon to know if that was wrong, Yoo says, since we’re still confronting the terrorist threat. “Only when we have the benefit of distance will we know whether Bush’s aggressive use of executive authority was too much, too little, or just right,” he writes, so complaints about torture and warrantless wiretapping are little more than Monday-morning quarterbacking.

It’s worth remembering that Yoo, now a law professor at University of California – Berkeley, is the subject of a still-unreleased ethics investigation as well as a pending lawsuit, both of which address charges that he not only misconstrued the law but was actively involved in breaking it. His aggressive defense of limitless executive authority sounds even shadier when read in that light.

But Yoo is at his most disingenuous when he criticizes President Obama. In his afterword, Yoo writes that under Obama’s executive orders, the CIA now must conduct interrogations according to the rules of the Army Field Manual — which “amounts to requiring — on penalty of prosecution — that CIA interrogators be polite.”

In fact, the Army Field Manual allows for prolonged isolation, sleep deprivation, sensory deprivation, and inducing fear and humiliation of prisoners, as the Center for Constitutional Rights and others have noted. These can be used in combination, and can cause, as former Bush appointees and a congressional investigation have found, long-lasting psychological and physical harm.

Nonetheless, doing away with “the Bush system” means “we will get little timely information from captured al Qaeda terrorists,” Yoo asserts, especially if Obama allows them trials in federal court.

Yoo’s book was released too soon for his own good. Within just the last two weeks we’ve learned that an al-Qaeda terror suspect who tries to blow up a plane can be captured, arrested, charged in federal court and promptly provide information about others planning similar attacks on U.S. targets.

If Yoo’s views weren’t already thoroughly discredited, that last section of his book does the job — which just goes to show that Professor Yoo really should have stayed in academia. Yoo may have good stories to tell about the theories of executive power at work under Madison, Truman and Roosevelt, but when he applies theory to practice he fails miserably. Unfortunately, that’s not just a problem for his publisher. The entire nation is suffering for it now.

At one point in her book, in fact, Shlaes actually concedes that Roosevelt’s Keynesian experiment succeeded when he tried it. “The spending was so dramatic that, finally, it functioned as Keynes … had hoped it would,” she writes about 1936, “Within a year unemployment would drop from 22 percent to 14 percent.” So Keynesian policy worked, and the main fiscal problem with the New Deal was that Roosevelt made too many concessions to the right. Here we are in agreement. So can conservatives stop carrying around The Forgotten Man like it’s Mao’s Little Red Book? Can we all go home now?

The problem with the Republican arguments for a combination of deep tax cuts and spending cuts is that no one can point to a recession that this program ended. Tax cuts and spending, yes. Tax increases and meddling with interest rates, yes. But the homespun wisdom of Republicans like Gov. Mark Sanford (R-S.C.), that the government should cut back spending just like an average family is doing, is not backed up by anything.

President Franklin D. Roosevelt signs the Tennessee Valley Authority Act in 1933. (tva.gov)

President-elect Barack Obama is confronting a cascading economic crisis, which seems to worsen by the day, not the week. As venerable banking houses collapse, once-mighty industries teeter on the brink of oblivion and unemployment mounts, the air thickens with recollections of the Great Depression of the 1930s, and comparisons between Obama and President Franklin D. Roosevelt.

But let’s define our terms. So what exactly was the Great Depression, and what did FDR do about it?

Illustration by: Matt Mahurin

The short answer is: The Great Depression was a rare political opportunity, and Roosevelt made the most of it — to the nation’s lasting benefit.

A longer answer would acknowledge that the Great Depression was a catastrophic economic crisis that Roosevelt failed to resolve – at least not until World War II came along, some eight years after he took office.

A still longer answer would recognize the connection between FDR’s short-term economic policy failure and the New Deal’s long-term political success. Much misunderstanding surrounds this matter.

“At the heart of the New Deal,” the distinguished historian Richard Hofstadter once wrote, “there was not a philosophy but a temperament.” In a kind of caricature of Hofstadter’s view, a New York Times writer not long ago said that Roosevelt “threw a slew of policies at the wall, and whatever stuck became the New Deal.”

That accepted view of the New Deal — as a kind of harum-scarum frenzy of random, incoherent policies that failed to slay the Depression demon — has become deeply embedded in our national folklore. But it is woefully and mischievously mistaken.

The fact is that Roosevelt purposely forged in the crucible of the nation’s most harrowing economic crisis a set of reforms that cohered in a more systematic pattern than is dreamt of in most philosophies. The essential logic of that pattern fairly leaps from the pages of the historical record. It can be described in a single word: security.

A Great Depression bread line, as depicted at the FDR Memorial in Washington, DC (Flickr: Tony the Misfit)

It is altogether fitting and proper that the New Deal’s most durable and consequential reform bears that very word in its title: the Social Security Act of 1935. A even greater measure of security was the New Deal’s gift to millions of Americans — farmers and workers, immigrants and blue-bloods, children and the elderly, as well as countless industrialists, bankers, and merchants, not to mention enormous tracts of forest, prairie, and mountain.

Forget about the colorful creations of the decidedly frenzied and much ballyhooed Hundred Days — like the Civilian Conservation Corps and the National Industrial Recovery Act. Most of them were attended by much sound and fury, but signified little, and strutted the briefest of hours on history’s stage.

But all the New Deal reforms that endured – the Federal Deposit Insurance Corp., the Securities and Exchange Commission, the Federal Housing Administration, the National Labor Relations Board, the Fair Labor Standards Act and, above all, the Social Security Act — had a common cardinal purpose. Roosevelt’s goal was not simply to end the immediate crisis of the Great Depression, but to make life less risky, to temper for generations thereafter what FDR repeatedly called the “hazards and vicissitudes” of life.

The New Deal provided more assurance to bank depositors (FDIC), more reliable information to investors (SEC), more safety to lenders (FHA), more stability to relations between capital and labor (NLRB), more predictable wages to the most vulnerable workers (FLSA), and a safety net for both the unemployed and the elderly (Social Security).

Those innovations re-wove the very fabric of national life. They profoundly shaped the fates of Americans born long after the crisis of the Great Depression had passed. With the exception of the FDIC, none dates from 1933.

Had economic health been miraculously restored in the fabled Hundred Days, a swift return to business as usual might have meant politics as usual as well — and none of those landmark reforms would have come to pass. Indeed, there would have been no New Deal as we know it.

Roosevelt understood this. He was a deeply strategic political actor and an astute student of history. He keenly appreciated what the engines of history had wrought and what they might be made to yield in the uniquely enabling circumstance of the Depression.

FDR had sketched the broad outline of his grand design well before the Great Depression descended. Proposals for old-age pensions, for example, dated back to the platform of the Progressive Party in 1912, which nominated for president his beloved cousin and political role model, Theodore Roosevelt. FDR publicly endorsed the idea as early as 1930.

But FDR also told his fellow Democrats throughout the 1920s that his comprehensive reform agenda must wait “until the Republicans had led us into a serious period of depression and unemployment.” He eventually confronted a more dangerous depression than he could have anticipated — but he realized the opportunity that it afforded.

The Chinese character for “crisis,” we are told, is a melding of the characters for “danger” and “opportunity.” FDR did not read Chinese, but he appreciated the logic of that etymology.

In his extraordinary second Inaugural Address, delivered Jan. 20, 1937, Roosevelt crowed about the actually quite modest recovery since 1933. “Our progress out of the depression is obvious,” he said. Then he added something altogether novel in the annals of presidential addresses: “Such symptoms of prosperity may become portents of disaster!” Roosevelt went on to describe the “one-third of a nation ill-housed, ill-clad, ill-nourished,” whose plight made a mockery of the American dream.

The context made it clear that he was not then speaking about the victims of the transient depression crisis, which he saw as ending, but about the accumulated social and human deficits spawned by more than a century of let-‘er-rip, swashbuckling, unregulated American capitalism — deficits not yet fully redeemed.

Solving that problem was what he meant when he said that “this generation of Americans has a rendezvous with destiny.”

“We are going to make a country,” Roosevelt once remarked, “in which no one is left out.”

In that unadorned sentence, Roosevelt summed up his highest purposes and his lasting accomplishments. The New Deal’s legacy was to give countless Americans, who until then had never had much of it, a strong sense of security. And with it, Roosevelt gave them a deeper sense of having a stake in their country and a bond with their countrymen.

Obama’s chief of staff, Rahm Emanuel, seems to have taken this essential history lesson on board. “You don’t ever want a crisis to go to waste,” he said recently. “It’s an opportunity to do important things that you would otherwise avoid.”

Like Roosevelt, Obama faces an urgent economic crisis. Like Roosevelt, Obama must use the (now considerably greater) powers of government to restore economic health. But like Roosevelt, Obama will ultimately be judged not simply on whether or how he ended this crisis, but on how he used it.

We have our own accumulated social and human deficits. Some, like the lack of universal health care, have been begging for attention since Roosevelt’s time. Others, including a crumbling infrastructure, struggling public schools, climate change, energy dependence, environmental degradation, widening income disparity and illegal immigration, have been festering merely for the last several decades.

If this generation is to have its own rendezvous with destiny, and if Obama wants to stand in FDR’s company, those matters can no longer be avoided.

David M. Kennedy is the Donald J. McLachlan Professor of History at Stanford University. He won the 2000 Pulitzer Prize for History for “Freedom From Fear: The American People in Depression and War, 1929-1945.”

Pres. George W. Bush and Sen. Barack Obama meet in the Oval Office on Monday. (whitehouse.gov)

And now comes the transition. After winning his historic victory last Tuesday, the nation’s first African-American president –and the first non-white chief executive elected in a white majority nation — President-elect Barack Obama has earned an interlude for celebration and relaxation.

But he has barely paused to breathe. Having reconceived campaign organization and fund-raising and redrawn the national political map, Obama may next rewrite the rulebook for political transitions. Already he has selected a White House chief of staff; is set to name more White House staffers this week, and is poised to function much like a sitting president well in advance of Inauguration Day.

Illustration by: Matt Mahurin

In the past, presidential transitions have posed dangerous stumbling blocks for the president-elect, as well as potential political windfalls, all the more so in times of economic emergency or international crisis. What might Obama expect as he navigates the 77-day waiting period?

For the most part, successful president-elects have kept their distance from the incumbent. Transitions hamstring incumbent presidents, particularly if the president-elect hails from the opposing party. It’s worse, of course, if the lame duck has lost his own campaign for re-election.

The transition, an interregnum that lasted four months until 1936, could be a difficult time. President Woodrow Wilson, for example, believed that he “would be without such moral backing from the nation as would be necessary to steady and control our relations with other governments.” Anticipating defeat in his 1916 re-election bid (he won a late, unexpected victory), Wilson worried that he “would be known to be the rejected, not the accredited, spokesman of the country; and yet the accredited spokesman would be without legal authority to speak for the nation.”

Accordingly, lame-duck presidents often try to draw the president-elect into their orbit — to win their endorsement for policies the outgoing leader lacks the political capital to pursue on his own. This year, Obama is already under pressure to cooperate with the Bush administration’s effort to relieve the global financial crisis.

Even before Election Day, Treasury Sec. Henry Paulson Jr. asked the candidates to join him in choosing the person to oversee the dispersal of the $700-billion bailout package. House Republican Whip Roy Blunt (R-Mo.), has called on the next president to reach out “to the current president to say, ‘What can we do to work together so that on Jan. 20, I’ve got as big a head start on solving the problems as we can possibly achieve?’ ”

Obama may find it difficult to avoid such entanglements. The freshness and urgency of the economic crisis demand immediate response from the president-elect, but he must somehow avoid tying himself to Bush policies and becoming accountable for them.

Consider that, in December 1992, President-elect Bill Clinton’s transition team publicly endorsed the elder Bush administration’s decision to intensify U.S. military operations in Somalia. A year later, after U.S. forces had to withdraw in defeat after a chaotic battle in the Somali capital, Clinton suffered the political consequences for the failed intervention.

Franklin D. Roosevelt (Wikimedia Commons)

Heady president-elects have avoided such snares. In 1932, as the nation’s financial system unraveled and the Great Depression deepened, incumbent President Herbert Hoover sought President-elect Franklin D. Roosevelt’s cooperation for his recovery program. The two men met several times, with Roosevelt calmly reassuring the nation while refusing to endorse Hoover initiatives, which Roosevelt considered anemic or misguided. After three years of depression, Roosevelt understood that any alliance with Hoover, however public-spirited it might seem in the short term, would only limit his freedom of action and tether him to his predecessor’s approach.

But if Obama must evade the warm embrace of President George W. Bush and dissociate himself from the administration’s approach to the financial crisis, he nonetheless needs some dramatic action to seize the agenda and reassure the nation. While assembling his administration remains the essential work of the transition, it will not suffice amid so acute a crisis.

In 1952, for example, Dwight D. Eisenhower redeemed his campaign promise to visit Korea and personally inspect the stalemated war zone. Little of substance came out of Eisenhower’s tour, but the widely publicized event dramatized a commander in control, someone preparing to tackle the nation’s most pressing challenge.

Forty years later, Clinton followed a similar script. Fulfilling his own campaign pledge to focus “like a laser” on the economy, Clinton convened an economic summit of 400 prominent businessmen, labor leaders and economists in Little Rock. The nationally televised event offered no concrete policy advances, but it vividly displayed the incoming chief executive’s mastery of policy detail and empathy for suffering Americans. Clinton seized the agenda even though he as yet lacked the authority to take action.

But while Obama can and must wield influence immediately, the president-elect should roll out specific policies carefully. For months, the presidential nominees have debated the details of campaign proposals, sparring over Obama’s tax plan and Sen. John McCain’s health-care program. Once Election Day passes, however, those plans normally find their way to history’s landfill. The shifting current of daily events and the practical demands of actually getting a bill through Congress relegate campaign rhetoric to the ash heap. Effective president-elects enunciate broad policy principles during the transition without yoking themselves to specific legislation that might quickly become obsolete.

Jimmy Carter suffered that fate in 1976, as he waited for Inauguration Day amid a gnawing and complex economic crisis. Stagflation, the crippling combination of inflation and economic stagnation gripped the United States, and spot fuel shortages complicated the manner.

During the campaign, unemployment had seemed the biggest economic problem and soon after Election Day, the Carter team announced an economic stimulus package. At its heart was a one-time tax rebate: $50 for each taxpayer as a quick, concentrated dose of stimulus.

But two months later, when President Carter took office, the economy had emerged from its doldrums. Unemployment had stabilized and inflation seemed to be the biggest threat. Carter canceled the rebate, infuriating legislative leaders who had worked hard to shepherd his proposal through Congress and earning the president a reputation for waffling and vacillation that he would never shake.

For better or worse, transitions can create lasting impressions: they can establish templates of effectiveness or create enduring images of incompetence that hamstring a president for years. “This victory alone,” Obama explained in his victory speech last Tuesday, “is not the change we seek. It is only the chance for us to make that change.”

Opportunity and peril began last Wednesday.

Bruce J. Schulman is the Huntington professor of American history at Boston University. His latest book, co-edited with Julian E. Zelizer, is “Rightward Bound: Making America Conservative in the 1970s.” He is the author of “The ’70s: The Great Shift in American Culture, Society and Politics,” “Lyndon B. Johnson and American Liberalism” and “From Cotton Belt to Sunbelt : Federal Policy, Economic Development and the Transformation of the South 1938-1980.”

President-elect Barack Obama (WDCpix)

“And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn, I may not have won your vote, but I hear your voices, I need your help and I will be your president too.”

So said President-elect Barack Obama, in one of the most revealing sentences in his victory speech Tuesday. In his rejection of standard political divisions, his emphasis on “e pluribus unum,” and his gracious inclusion of those whose support he has “yet to earn,” we can find a clue to what makes our new president-elect so remarkable — perhaps even unique in the nation’s long history.

Illustration by: Matt Mahurin

Some public officials are minimalists. They do not like to reject the fundamental commitments of their fellow citizens. On environmental questions, sex equality, national security and economic policy, they try to bracket our deepest disagreements. They seek to obtain a consensus on what to do — not on why to do it.
Minimalists favor their approach because they think, as a pragmatic matter, it is most likely to work. They also insist that their approach, putting fundamental differences to one side, shows respect to their fellow citizens.

Political minimalism has a distinguished tradition in U.S. politics. In recent history, President George H.W. Bush stands as the leading minimalist. To the extent that Bush succeeded, especially in foreign affairs, it was because he enlisted diverse people, and diverse views, on behalf of the policies he chose.

Other public officials are visionaries. They have a large-scale vision about the direction in which the nation should go. They believe in big steps, not small ones.

Above all, these visionaries seek to alter the nation’s self-conception. In changing policy on the economy, or on national defense, they are entirely comfortable with asserting that their vision is the superior one and that alternative visions should be rejected. When they succeed, they transform how the nation understands itself.

Our greatest presidents — including Washington, Lincoln, and Franklin Delano Roosevelt — have been visionaries. In recent American history, President Ronald Reagan stands as the leading visionary.

Obama is something new in American politics — and not just for the obvious reasons. He is a visionary minimalist. This is a key both to his extraordinary campaign and to his unique promise. It even helps explain his conception of public service.

Obama’s minimalism lies in his consistent rejection of the standard social divisions — between red states and blue states, liberal and conservatives, Democrats and Republicans. As he said in his 2004 Democratic Convention speech, “We worship an awesome God in the blue states, and we don’t like federal agents poking around our libraries in the red states.”

Ronald Reagan (Wikimedia)

Obama shows unfailing respect for those with competing views. In designing policies — on climate change, tax reform, energy conservation, foreign policy — he attempts to produce solutions that will accommodate, rather than repudiate, the defining commitments of his fellow citizens. Even on the most divisive issues of separation of church and state, Obama favors approaches that will attract support from all sides.

But Obama is a visionary too. Unlike most minimalists, he is willing to think big.

When he speaks of change, he means to include ambitious plans for energy independence, universal health care and educational reform. No less than Reagan, he wants to transform the nation’s self-understanding. He seeks not only to go beyond the divisions of the 1960s, but also to synthesize deeper strands in our history.

Thus Obama recognizes and celebrates the individualist strain in American culture. But he draws attention to a counterpoint — one that emphasizes mutual obligations.
As he said in 2004 and has often repeated since, “If there’s a senior citizen somewhere who can’t pay for her prescription and has to choose between medicine and the rent, that makes my life poorer, even if it’s not my grandmother. . . . It’s that fundamental belief — I am my brother’s keeper, I am my sister’s keeper – that makes this country work.”

With the election of a new president, I expect that we will soon enter a novel period of American life, in which a commitment to public service, sacrifice and a sense of mutual obligations will play a far larger role. That commitment will be anything but partisan. It will be felt in red states and blue states alike.

And it will be made possible, and fueled, by the visionary minimalism of America’s president-elect.

Cass R. Sunstein is Felix Frankfurter professor of law at Harvard Law School. He will be the Harry Kalven Visiting Professor at University of Chicago Law School in January 2009. His most recent book, which he co-wrote with Richard Thaler, is “Nudge: Improving Decisions about Health, Wealth, and Happiness.” His books include “Are Judges Political? An Empirical Analysis of the Federal Judiciary” and “The Second Bill of Rights: FDR’s Unfinished Revolution and Why We Need It More Than Ever.”

Franklin Delano Roosevelt (Wikimedia)

Republicans have unveiled their closing argument. Desperate to prevent a huge Democratic landslide, Republicans warn that one-party government under Democrats would surely mean liberal extremism.

Raising the specter of an “Obama, Pelosi and Reid” government, Sen. John McCain refers to the combination of Sen. Barack Obama, House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-Calif.) and Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid (D-Nev.) as a “dangerous threesome.” Sen. Orrin Hatch (R-Utah) warns, “Liberals are bent on handing Barack Obama a filibuster-proof Senate majority to rubber-stamp his radical agenda.”

The argument is based on a misreading of American history. For, during periods of one-party government, when Democrats controlled both the White House and the Congress, history demonstrates that they have not shifted radically toward a leftward agenda.

Illustration by: Matt Mahurin

Few observers, other than those on the far right, characterized the New Deal as liberal extremism in action. Most perceived President Franklin D. Roosevelt as an experimenter who tried to please everyone. FDR and his Democratic counterparts did everything in their power to save capitalism from the threat of totalitarianism and communism during the Great Depression.

The period between 1933 and 1938 witnessed a dramatic expansion of government. But with each and every policy, Democrats were careful to constrain the ability of government officials to control capitalist institutions and to protect the power of state and local government.

The economic regulations passed in the 1930s allowed private economic institutions to maintain power and profit. Wall Street regulations primarily curbed dangerous and unethical transactions, while the Securities Exchange Commission was set up to monitor wrong-doing. This left the basic decisions to investors.

The major effort to manage pricing and production was the National Industrial Recovery Act in 1933. In the worst economic moment of the nation’s history, the legislation essentially asked businesses to voluntarily adhere to codes that would be enforced through voluntary compliance combined with public pressure. The program collapsed by the end of 1934, before the Supreme Court deemed it unconstitutional, because so many business leaders were not living up to their promises.

The farm programs, created in 1933, subsidized agribusiness as opposed to taking it over. The New Deal offered the agriculture industry financial incentives to make decisions that benefited the larger economy. The government paid for crops. The Communist Party leader, Earl Browder, lamented that Roosevelt was “carrying out more thoroughly and brutally than even Hoover the capitalist attack against the masses.”

Social Security, passed in 1935, only covered a limited portion of the workforce — excluding farmers, domestic workers, professionals and others — while relying on a regressive, self-financed tax to pay for benefits.

Lyndon Baines Johnson (Wikimedia)

Lyndon B. Johnson and the Democratic Congress in 1964 and 1965 were also quite timid. The War on Poverty received meager funding. Democrats had given priority to passing an across-the-board tax reduction to stimulate the economy, rather than spending on the poor.

Congress allocated $500 million for the Community Action program, a figure that paled in comparison to what Washington spent on Social Security, agricultural benefits or defense. The War on Poverty focused on developing self-sufficiency among the poor, a far cry from socialism, and the programs relied on civic organizations and local government rather than centralized control in Washington.

The civil-rights bill that Democrats passed in 1964 emphasized the protection of individual rather than group rights. The more aggressive program of affirmative action would not emerge until a Republican was in the White House, in 1969, and then there was divided government.

When Democrats controlled the White House and Congress, in 1964, they insisted on civil-rights legislation that focused on the more moderate goal of eliminating racial discrimination against individuals. This, they said, respected American principles. The government remained reactive under their plan, responding when individual rights were violated, rather than proactively combating institutional racism.

When it came to health care, the Medicare bill of 1965 was a watered-down version of the far bolder health-care proposals that Democrats floated in the 1940s — unsuccessfully. To avoid another defeat, Democrats decided to narrow their ambitions with a limited program to provide hospital insurance coverage just to the elderly. Medicare was created within Social Security to bolster political support, using its regressive self-financed tax system. The government refrained from regulating the prices hospitals could charge. Blue Cross and Blue Shield handled the insurance.

Even when Southern Democrats lost their power in Congress, united government did not result in a dramatic swing to the left. President Jimmy Carter struggled with the various factions within the Democratic Party over energy independence, welfare reform, defense spending and more. United government did not help the president overcome horrible relations with legislators in his own party. Carter’s concern with inflation trumped his worries about unemployment.

Conservative grass-roots activists took advantage of these problems by allying with the GOP congressional minority in the Congress to stifle measures like SALT II.

Bill Clinton (Flickr: World Economic Forum)

President Bill Clinton did not fare much better. Democrats controlled Washington, but Clinton decided to start his term with deficit reduction and free trade. When he proposed health-care reform, it was a far cry from the single-player, national health insurance models that had been championed by Democrats like Sen. Edward M. Kennedy. And even that legislation did not make it through Congress.

The best case for Republicans to show how one-party government produces extremism comes from the period of GOP rule between 2002 and 2006. One-party government allowed Republicans to pass a massive tax reduction in 2001 that severely cut into the coffers of government and provided significant tax relief to wealthier Americans. After 9/11, the Bush administration authorized a huge expansion of the national security state.

Yet much of what George W. President Bush actually accomplished still relied on executive power and secrecy. Signing statements, covert national-security programs, executive orders and misleading information were all instrumental to how Bush achieved his goals. Bush has continued to rely on these tactics under divided government as well.

The historical record is clear. One-party government does not lead to political extremism — and a look at the past contradicts GOP claims that Democratic control of both ends of Pennsylvania Avenue would produce a dramatic shift to the left. Democrats will face all sorts of pressures, from internal factions to budgetary restraints to the 2012 election, that will serve as a powerful check on what the party can accomplish.

Disappointment, not extremism, is a more realistic prediction of what the party could ultimately face.

Julian E. Zelizer is a professor of history and public affairs at Princeton University’s Woodrow Wilson School. He is the author of “On Capitol Hill: The Struggle to Reform Congress and its Consequences, 1948-2000″ and the editor of “The American Congress: The Building of Democracy.” He is finishing a book on the history of national-security politics since World War II and another on the presidency of Jimmy Carter.