Holy Wars Are A Bummer
CBS News Correspondent Eric Engberg writes that a wee bit of the pixie dust came off John McCain when he coldcocked Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell.
Previous visitors to this little patch of cyberville are by now familiar with Reality Check's deep regard for the one iron law of politics - the law of unintended consequences.
The decidedly muted tone of Thursday's Republican debate in California was a sign that the forces of Bush and the forces of McCain have both decided, coming up on the Super Tuesday Mega-primary, they don't want any big plays that carry a potential for fumbles. You could almost hear the Beltway Wise Guys and the Austin Wiseguys pleading with their charges, "No surprises tonight, Big Fella; it's too risky."
The Big Fellas, who have been bashing each other with a vengeance in stump speeches and in the sub rosa world of direct phone calls to voters, did put a little bit of vinegar in a few exchanges. But they were both at pains to look like dignified statesmen incapable of gross vilification.
When you're running in primaries such as California and New York, states where few voters will have the opportunity to shake your hand, you can't afford to mess up the immaculate TV image your TV mavens are spending millions to promote.
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The insurgent campaign of Johnny Mac has provided, in the past week, one of the best lessons ever of the aforementioned law of unintended consequences, perhaps because McCain failed to totally grasp the foundations of his own appeal.
His victories at the polls and his strong showing in polls outside the South have routinely been attributed to two factors: his pledge to smash the Washington influence-peddling game, which appeals to the independents who signed on for Ross Perot in his early incarnation, and his personal story of courage and sacrifice for his country, which appeals to everyone, especially those who feel a sense of national guilt at the shabby way many Vietnam veterans were treated during and after that divisive war.
But I suspect there was a third factor at work whch was even more important. McCain, with that grin, the shoe-string campaign style, the light saber schtick, the jokes about his own foibles and those around him. (Who was the last candidate to say that his staff was selected from prison work-release programs?) McCain was the only candidate in either party who looked like he was having fun out there on the campaign trail.
And the voting public is in the mood for a little fun. The economy is smiling, the Soviet bear is dead, we have been through a long, dark night of impeachment and sordid revelations. The leaders of both major parties, Newt and Bill, were always doing something that made your molars clench and grind. Whatever else they were during their separate reigns, they were both trying. VERY TRYING. It was time for a fun break.
McCain's every campaign appearance screamed out, "Isn't this a hoot?!" And the voters in several states responded so forcefully that the GOP's power structure was groping for dastardly reasons (hijacking of the party) to account for it. Then, McCain tried to hang the controversial political ministers Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell around Bush's neck for smarmy tactics in South Carolina. Then, seeing some political advantage in states where Catholic voters are a factor, he declared war on those two and launched what amounted to a battle for the soul of the Republican Party. He hadn't laid any groundwork for this; it didn't look like fun.
Whatever the merits of his attack, the subject matter - religious activity - is the one topic that will bring easy going, friendly discourse to a screeching halt at most social outings, and cause most Americans to disengage from the conversation out of fear of giving offense.
The commonly voiced assessment that McCain had hurt himself by criticizing a key component of the Republican coalition may be true. But where he hurt himself more was in stripping some of the Peter Pan magic off a campaign that was floating on what Hubert Humphrey used to call "The Politics of Joy." Once that magic has left, it's a rare politician who can bring it back.
McCain tried at the debate by carefully narrowing the list of his targets to two, Robertson and Falwell, whom he characterized as "intolerant" and "wrong headed." He carefully exempted their followers.
He reaffirmed (six times by my count) his ties to the president the Christian right loves best, Ronald Reagan. Predictably, this led to bickering with Bush over whose phone banks said what when and what that tells us about bigotry.
On top of that, in one of those journalist-inspired pie-throwing moments that happens under the law of unintended consequences, McCain was forced to endure an overly long, damning lecture from CNN's Jeff Greenfield, disguised as a question about how McCain may be too "intemperate" to be president. All this served to make McCain look like what his opponents want him to be: Anoter politician. Politicians all fly at the same altitude. No one floats above it all.