Ed Chen

In 2009, Representative Fred Upton called climate change "a serious problem" and said that "everything must be on the table as we seek to reduce carbon emissions."

By last January, under fire from Fox News, the Michigan Republican had erased that position from his official Web site. Next Upton led the charge to block the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) from updating safeguards to protect us from carbon dioxide pollution, a major contributor to rising temperatures and extreme weather conditions. Then, in another about-face, this time pressured by Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh, the soon-to-be chairman of the House Energy and Commerce Committee turned against energy-efficient lightbulbs. Four years earlier, Upton had cosponsored a bill to begin eliminating inefficient incandescent bulbs.

It's usually not a pretty sight when politicians abruptly reverse course, for they expose themselves to one of the most withering monikers in politics: flip-flopper. And Upton is far from alone when it comes to flip-flopping on the issue of climate change. Another prominent Republican lawmaker to do so is Scott Brown. As a state senator in Massachusetts, he voted for a regional compact to curb carbon emissions. In April, now a United States senator, Brown voted to block the EPA from issuing Clean Air Act protections that would regulate CO₂ emissions.

"When a politician flip-flops, he or she risks a 'weather vane' ad accusing them of blowing in the wind," says Larry Sabato, a professor of politics at the University of Virginia. To deflect such accusations successfully, a politician must persuade the public that his or her change of mind was driven by substance and principle, not politics. That can be a steep climb, in part because the news media usually treat a flip-flop as something of a "gotcha" story and ascribe the worst of motives. That knee-jerk reaction all but ignores the reality that politicians (like all human beings) sometimes change their minds for good reasons. "There are cases where public officials evolve because they have thought more about a subject. Isn't that what we should want?" Sabato says. "I worry about people who never change their minds. We used to believe consistency was the hobgoblin of little minds, but now we insist on absolute faithfulness to one's old ideas."

So when politicians do flip-flop, it's important for us to understand their rationale and, if possible, their motivation. They deserve an opportunity to explain themselves -- fully and without obfuscation. If they don't come clean, we should demand that they do. So should the press.

Much of the news media seem to be falling down on the job when it comes to the phalanx of leading Republicans who once were for curbing carbon dioxide pollution but now are against doing so. Some of them now even question whether climate change is real. Clearly, these flip-floppers are not following the scientific consensus. Nor are they following public opinion, for if they were, they'd be clamoring for action. (An ABC/Washington Post poll last June found that 71 percent of respondents believed the federal government should curb carbon dioxide pollution from cars and power plants.)

So their reversals look to be nothing other than a stampede to endear themselves to Tea Party hard-liners whose extremist agenda included last spring's attempts in Congress to cripple the EPA, an agency created four decades ago by overwhelming majorities in both houses of Congress and signed into law by President Nixon.

Denying climate science has become, for some in the right wing, a quasi-religion. Shameless pandering is an inescapable fact of life in politics. But when elected officials flip-flop on an issue as critical to our well-being as climate change, they owe us nothing less than a full and honest explanation of why. Unless, that is, they don't have one.