Klein on Obama

10 minute read
Joe Klein

On the Saturday before the North Carolina and Indiana primaries, Hillary Clinton stood on the back of a vintage pickup truck in Gastonia, N.C., and let fly in the most impressive fashion–a woman transformed from Eleanor Roosevelt into Huey Long in two short months. Spotting a big yellow placard that said GAS TAX HOLIDAY IS BLATANT PANDERING–a sign she would have ignored in her earlier, less feisty incarnations–she went after the young Obamish sign-holders: Why wasn’t the Federal Reserve accused of pandering when it bailed out the Bear Stearns investment bank to the tune of $30 billion? Why shouldn’t the oil companies pay the federal gasoline tax this summer instead of the people who “hold their breath” every time they pull up to the gas pump? “I know that some people don’t have to worry when they go to the supermarket,” she said, staring accusingly at the placard bearers, but “there are people who count their pennies as they walk down the aisle,” trying to figure out what they can afford. “Don’t they deserve a break every once in a while? They haven’t done anything wrong … The oil companies have had it their way for too long,” she said. “I’m tired of being a patsy.”

Wow. Watching the junior Senator from New York, I was of two minds. My high-minded policy brain was, of course, appalled. The gas-tax holiday was a scam. It had been tried at various times–Barack Obama had voted for a local version in the Illinois legislature–and prices never came down. The oil companies and gas-station owners simply pocketed the difference. Clinton’s “responsible” version of the plan was also a scam. She wanted to pay for it with a “windfall profits” tax on the oil companies, but she had earlier, and more responsibly, called for the elimination of tax breaks for those same companies. If you eliminate the tax breaks, you effectively eliminate the windfall profits. There would be nothing to tax. In any case, the “holiday” had next to no chance of passing Congress. Her sell was, well, shameless pandering.

On the other hand, my cynical low-information political brain was saying, You go, girl. This was fun to watch. “This is a serious election,” Clinton said in Gastonia, “but I believe you still should have some fun.” She seemed energized by her irresponsibility, sprung from her lifelong, eat-your-peas policy straitjacket. She had always been the superego of Team Clinton; now she was gallivanting about, playing the id. It seemed like smart politics too. It was the kind of thing I have seen “work” throughout my nearly 40-year career as a journalist, an era that coincided neatly with the rise of consultant-driven flummery: you could fool most of the people most of the time. For nearly 30 years, the Republican offer of tax breaks had trumped the Democratic offer of responsible budgeting, with the ironic exception of Bill Clinton’s presidency. And while that offer still might work in a general election, it did not in the May 6 Democratic primaries.

Clinton’s paste-on populism changed absolutely nothing. The demographic blocs that had determined the shape of this remarkable campaign remained stolidly in place. Blacks, young people and those with college educations voted for Obama; Clinton won women, the elderly, whites without college educations. Clinton’s slim margin of victory in Indiana was provided, appropriately enough, by Republicans, who were 10% of the Democratic-primary electorate and whose votes she carried 54% to 46%–some, perhaps, at the behest of the merry prankster Rush Limbaugh, who had counseled his ditto heads to bring “chaos” to the Democratic electoral process by voting for their favorite whipping girl. Clinton’s new glow, her newfound stump proficiency, her symbiosis with Limbaugh, seemed an eerily Faustian narrative. But, as we know, those sorts of bargains tend to end badly. In this case, the upper-crust liberals who seemed ready to flee Obama in Pennsylvania–the sort of people who would run out and buy a hybrid before they’d support a reduction in the gasoline tax–decided to vote their faith that Obama was running an honorable campaign rather than their fear that his membership in Jeremiah Wright’s church would render him radioactive.

And with good reason. The formerly charismatic Obama had undergone a transformation of his own: from John F. Kennedy to Adlai Stevenson, from dashing rhetorician to good-government egghead. He derided the gas-tax holiday as the gimmick it was, gambling that Democrats would see through the ruse. He trudged through the Wright debacle, never allowing his impeccable disposition to slip toward anger or pettiness. On the Sunday before the primaries, he gave a dour, newsless interview to Tim Russert, enduring another 20 minutes of questions about the Reverend Wright. Meanwhile, Clinton was spiky and histrionic in her simultaneous duel with George Stephanopoulos. She made alpha-dog power moves, standing up to talk to the live audience while Stephanopoulos remained seated, forcing him to stand uncomfortably beside her and then, later, embarrassing her host by reminiscing about his liberal, anti-NAFTA, Clinton-staffer past.

It wasn’t until I read the transcript that I realized that Clinton’s bravado had masked a brazenly empty performance. Stephanopoulos nailed her time after time, mostly on matters of character. She said, for example, that her husband’s charitable foundation was private and didn’t have to release the names of its donors. “Yet the foundation sold the donor list, 38,000 names,” Stephanopoulos pointed out. Clinton said she didn’t “know anything about that. You’d have to ask the foundation.” In retrospect, it was easy to see that Clinton was desperate, willing to say almost anything to get over. At the time, she just seemed strong, certainly stronger than Obama on Meet the Press … at least she did to me and many members of my chattering tribe. And our knee-jerk reactions–our prejudice toward performance values over policy–could infect the campaign to come between Obama and John McCain, just as it has the primaries.

Clinton’s apparent loss of the nomination was a consequence of her campaign’s incompetence, but it was also a result of her reliance on the same-old. The shameless populism that seemed a possible game changer to media observers, micro-ideas like the gas-tax holiday, the willingness to go negative–which Obama tried intermittently, in halfhearted reaction to Clinton’s attacks–appeared very old and clichéd to Obama’s legion of young supporters, who were the real game changers in this year of extraordinary turnouts. That, and the fact that Democrats have been the party of government, tragically hooked on the high-minded: they don’t react well to flagrant pandering or character assassination. This has been a losing position these past 40 years, and the media–like pollsters and political consultants–tend to look in the rearview mirror and pretend to see the future.

In his victory speech after the smashing North Carolina results came in, Obama went directly after both McCain and the media. “[McCain’s] plan to win in November appears to come from the very same playbook that his side has used time after time in election after election,” Obama said. “Yes, we know what’s coming. I’m not naive. We’ve already seen it, the same names and labels they always pin on everyone who doesn’t agree with all their ideas, the same efforts to distract us from the issues that affect our lives, by pouncing on every gaffe and association and fake controversy, in the hopes that the media will play along.”

That may have been unfair to McCain, since the Senator from Arizona won the Republican nomination in much the same way Obama has triumphed–as an outsider, an occasional reformer, a pariah to blowhards like Limbaugh. But it’s also true that McCain has a choice to make: in the past month, he has wobbled between the high and low roads, at one point calling Obama the Hamas candidate for President after a member of that group “endorsed” the Senator from Illinois. If McCain wants to maintain his reputation as a politician more honorable than most, he’s going to have to stop the sleaze. And if Obama wants to maintain his reputation for honor, he’ll have representatives from his campaign sit down with McCain’s people to work out a sane, equitable campaign-financing mechanism for the general election–and a robust series of debates. Mark McKinnon, a McCain adviser who has said he would rather recuse himself than help his candidate against Obama, has suggested that the two candidates campaign together, staging Lincoln-Douglas-style debates across the country–a proposal similar to the offer that Kennedy reportedly wanted to make if he ran against Barry Goldwater in 1964.

In the end, Obama’s challenge to the media is as significant as his challenge to McCain. All the evidence–and especially the selection of these two apparent nominees–suggests the public not only is taking this election very seriously but is also extremely concerned about the state of the nation and tired of politics as usual. I suspect the public is also tired of media as usual, tired of journalists who put showmanship over substance … as I found myself doing in the days before the May 6 primaries. Obama was talking about the Republicans, but he could easily have been talking about the press when he said, “The question, then, is not what kind of campaign they will run; it’s what kind of campaign we will run. It’s what we will do to make this year different. You see, I didn’t get into this race thinking that I could avoid this kind of politics, but I am running for President because this is the time to end it.”

Politics will always be propelled by grease, hot air and showmanship, but in the astonishing prosperity of the late 20th century, we allowed our public life to drift toward too much show biz, too little substance. Yes, the low-information signals–the bowling and tamale-eating–are crucial; politicians have to show that they are in touch with the lives of average folks. But a balance needs to be struck between carnival populism and the higher demands of democracy, and as a nation, we haven’t been very good lately with the serious part of the program. As a result, there is a festering sense–I’ve seen it everywhere I’ve traveled this year–that the country is in “the ditch,” as Clinton said. A general-election campaign between John McCain and Barack Obama doesn’t need any hype. It won’t be boring. The question is whether we, politicians and press alike, will grant this election–and electorate–the respect that it deserves.

Campaign 2008

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