There’s a reason why we make distinctions in the diplomaticand political language between a “truce” and a “lasting peace.”
On Monday, January 21, 2008, presidential candidates Hillary Clinton, Barack Obama and John Edwards faced off in a Myrtle Beach, South Carolina forum sponsored by the Congressional Black Caucus and CNN. Hosted by CNN’s Wolf Blitzer, the debate began at 8:00 p.m. eastern time and started out with gracious civility. By 8:05 p.m., it had turned into one most brutal and personal debates between presidential hopefuls ever seen on live television.
So much for the well-advertised truce of the week before—and there’s little chance we will witness lasting peace during the next few months of this election cycle.
In a campaign year where the stakes seem to rise almost daily for Democrats, and where the personal rancor has already taken more than its usual high toll on the patience of the participants, the January 21 debate clearly sets a new historical record for outright bitterness and vitriol.
It was clear in the first minutes that moderator Wolf Blitzer was losing control of the room as Senators Clinton and Obama accused each other of distortions of the truth, misrepresentations of the facts, and patent falsehoods. Each had come prepared with opposition research—a political euphemism for nasty insider tidbits about an opponent—and each was willing to sling those mudballs with undisguised gusto during the first half hour.
Obama to Clinton: “While I was working in the streets and wards of Chicago to save jobs, you were off serving on the board of directors for Wal-Mart.” Applause mixed with boos from the audience.
A minute later, Clinton accused Obama of having a cozy relationship with a real estate company that did business with an infamous slumlord now under indictment in Chicago. More applause mixed with a roar of boos.
Shortly after that, the recent media fracas over Obama’s kind words about the Republican Party and its recent legacy of ideas became more cannon fodder for Clinton as she chastised Obama for such a heretical lapse in his public thinking. Obama struck back harshly, accusing her of misrepresenting his statement and it’s meaning, attempting to call her accusation “patently…[something]” before she interrupted and all hell broke loose.
At that instant, the candidates began to “walk on each other,” TV production technical jargon for that moment of passion and anger when everyone with an open microphone attempts to be heard regardless of the unintelligible results for the live audience and the viewers in their homes. All three candidates plus Wolf were attempting to regain their footing, with John Edwards attempting vainly to jump into the fray in order to get a word or two—any word—in edgewise. The anger seething below the surface of the top two contenders was palpable and undisguised.
And the tone for the night was set.
When the issues of the current mortgage crises, credit cards and predatory lending came up, Obama accused Clinton of sidling up to her friends in the banking industry, and Clinton accused Obama of dodging accountability. “It’s hard to debate the issues with you,” Hillary said, “because you never want to take responsibility for any vote!” Obama accused Clinton of constantly changing her positions, realigning herself in an obvious attempt to outflank him on every issue—even flagrantly redesigning some of her own position papers and stump speeches in an act close to political plagiarism.
Edwards seemed for the first thirty minutes to be tag teaming with Clinton, piling on each time Clinton knocked Obama back on his heels, but later, Edwards made a clear break onto his own ground, turning on Clinton with sharp criticisms of her willingness to accept such large cash contributions from corporate power brokers and special interest groups. The searing anger in Clinton’s eyes was visible and even a tad frightening.
This was no longer debate in the conventional sense—this was a cage match.
Not since the bitterness between Gerald Ford and Ronald Reagan in their bloody 1976 primary fight have we seen top tier candidates bludgeon themselves so ferociously over a period of weeks, and not since—well, umm, not ever—have we seen a debate quite like this one.
Ten days of bitter, bare-knuckle fighting and feuding over words—quelled only during their brief truce last week—erupted in a dramatic display of hostilities that may only be at the start.
An hour or more into the debate, even the issue of electability and who among them would be most suited to face the Republicans sparked more rocket attacks. For in this question there was a genuine need to examine some realities. John Edwards was the first to cut to the chase, saying that—barring some major change in the nature of the GOP race—one of the three of them (Edwards, Clinton, Obama) will be facing Senator John McCain in November. “So,” he asked, “how do we make ourselves competitive?”
Edwards repeatedly used the example of what he called the “petty bickering” between Obama and Clinton as an example of the dangers of politics as usual. This intense bitterness was not merely the result of the usual frayed nerves that come from the 24-hour full contact sport of presidential politics. This was personal, and perhaps, for all the right reasons.
The stakes for the Democratic Party are as high as they have been in 30 years or more. For the first time since the late 1970s, leading Democrats can taste victory. Even as the demographics still marginally favor Republicans, the Democrats know that this time they can win big. The GOP’s unfavorable marks are high due in large part to a generally unpopular war, a wobbling economy sinking into recession, jobs flowing overseas, a credit and housing crisis that threatens markets, and a general belief that under the current crop of Republicans the executive branch has purposely cut itself off from accountability. Republicans have been off message for 18 months or more and may have squandered their command of the issues that voters historically regard as GOP strengths: foreign policy and the economy.
For once, victory for Democrats in November is no longer a shimmering mirage in the distance, but something tangible and within their grasp. Democrats have a unique opportunity in 2008 to redefine themselves, and, to make history in the process by choosing their first female nominee or their first African-American nominee. In their best-case scenario, this could very well begin the long-awaited realignment across the electoral map. This is why these three people—John Edwards, Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton—are fighting so vigorously for the nomination. But in this brutal quest to be that victor, these Democrats may cause irreparable harm to themselves and the party they love.
This paradox has become familiar to us. Since 1968, the Democratic primary and caucus seasons have often been grisly wars of attrition—brutal, bloody free-for-alls with honors going by default to the Last Man Standing. This candidate—bruised, battered, bandaged—is then thrust from the Democratic Convention to face single combat with the Republicans. How many of those Democratic warriors have won a general election since 1968? Only two…Jimmy Carter (once), and Bill Clinton (twice). Stretch the analysis as far back as the end of Truman’s term, and the White House math gets no better for the party of FDR and John F. Kennedy.
So, how to proceed? When John Edwards bluntly offered up the name of McCain as their likely opponent, he was bringing the core of many backroom strategy sessions into the open: as Democrats, we must choose wisely.
The debate then turned repeatedly on the question of which one from among them can joust most effectively against John McCain, the candidate—ironically—that draws well among independents. McCain is often the name most often cited by Democrats as the guy they fear most from the GOP...a maverick and straight-talker, cool under fire, and someone who succeeds with Democrats and Independents.
Edwards presented himself as the right candidate for several reasons. He cited his own refusal to take money from lobbyists and special interest groups, a trait which would level the moral playing field in a McCain versus Edwards match-up. Edwards also cited his penetration into the red states and their more conservative economic concerns, highlighting his own personal connection to the rural communi-ties and small towns. In short, Edwards sees himself as having the skill and reach to attract (without compromising his tenacious advocacy of liberal causes) those farm belt and small city voters that have traditionally flowed toward the GOP in recent decades.
For Clinton, the point is experience, experience, and experience. She has worked in her role as First Lady inside the White House, and she has served two fruitful terms as a U.S. Senator, having placed her name on numerous pieces of legislation and brokered the success of many more. Like McCain, she is a tireless worker and a pragmatist willing to compromise. Further (she reminded us), she has lived through the harsh media scrutiny of 16 years in public service and she has weathered everything that the formidable Republican war machine can dish out. She is not just a fighter, but also a survivor—honing and improving her impressive skills through years of adversity and withering crossfire. She is not afraid of John McCain or any other Republican.
For Obama—whose warm words about the Reagan legacy received a public dissection in the media frenzy—Clinton and Edwards were proving his very point. Obama patiently—and with understandable delicacy—said that the last few elections had been unpleasant experiences for the Democratic Party. “We have not had,” he said, “a working majority in order to push through [significant] legislation for this country.” Is this the fault of Republicans? Or is this our fault for not reaching out to more Americans? A different approach is needed in Washington. Obama believes that his skill at building bridges makes him best suited to face McCain in November.
In the asymmetrical fight between these three heavyweight contenders, each sees their chief skill as an obvious attraction to voters, while the other two see it as a glaring liability. Each is comfortable with their fighting strengths, even as their two opponents view it with disdain.
Clinton has open contempt for Obama’s promises of change and hope, regarding his approach—at best—as patently naïve, and at worst little more than elegant posturing. Washington, in her view, will chew Obama up and spit him out—assuming he makes it past the fury of the Republican artillery.
When Hillary Clinton boasts of her tenacity and battle-tested experience in Bill Clinton’s administration, Obama sometimes winces, for he interprets this as leading the Democratic Party into to another nasty, divisive election in the fall with all the predictable ugliness that sometimes follows the Clintons.
When John Edwards talks so passionately of being an aggressive, unyielding advocate for his expansive, unapologetically liberal plans (health care, insurance company reform, prescription meds, corporate greed, education, etc) Obama sees an electorate nervous at the high cost, and he sees voters easily swayed by Republicans who will no doubt savage Edwards by portraying the former senator as a wild-eyed radical.
Obama’s most compelling strength is his outreach. It is what gave him his political success in Illinois, and it is what has brought him so remarkably from obscurity to the national spotlight. For Obama, the change needed in Washington requires leaders of both parties to set aside the ugly, I’m-right-and-you’re-evil tone of the national conversation and start to make progress—incrementally if needed, but real, measurable progress nonetheless. It will require compromise; it will require reaching across the political aisle. And it will require building consensus. Obama believes in this process of partnership.
So when Obama openly explores consensus and partnership along the campaign trail, he finds himself under constant forward and flanking attacks by Clinton and her campaign operatives (some of the most stinging barbs have come directly from former president Bill Clinton, who has become the 500 pound gorilla of campaign spin chieftains).
Even some liberal and moderate editorialists felt that the Clinton camp’s intense attacks on Obama for his “Republican” comments went over the top, even if they in fact felt it was a bit indiscreet of him to air those words so bluntly. No matter—the attack was widely viewed as opportunistic and shrill.
During the debate Obama refused to get cornered by those words, and he attempted with some success to turn it around on Clinton, using the fracas as yet another example of how the Clinton team shamelessly twists the truth and takes things out of context to distort honest discussion. But for Obama, this is par for the course. His point is that this “politics as usual” approach will generate still more of the same gridlock and frustration.
Obama does not believe that Hillary Clinton truly learned any lesson from the disastrous failure to create health care legislation during the 1990s. The escalating war of words during recent weeks is an indication of how polarizing Hillary Clinton can be to so many people. And her husband’s occasional outbursts and tirades (against Obama, against specific reporters, against the media in general) raise the specter of a fall campaign marked by a bitter, ever-deepening divide among Americans. It will be the Bush dynasty versus the Clinton dynasty, and the predictable prattle of right wing media hotheads jousting with left wing media hotheads.
Though she has tinkered occasionally with the style, the substance of Clinton’s campaign theme has been consistent: battle-tested experience. She does not fear the likes of John McCain, nor any other Republican hopeful. The rabid anti-Clinton crowd has already pored over her every word and deed, splattered her with every known form of mud, and subjected her to the sort of heat that might have withered even Harry Truman. Despites dozens of books trashing the Clinton name, she survives as the reliable known quantity. She is a creature of this divisiveness and in fact its most famous survivor. Already molded and shaped in this milieu, Hillary Clinton does not fear the partisan fight.
Barack Obama’s singular appeal can be found in his promise to bridge these gaps and break this ugly pattern.
So the choice for Democrats is between these two long, strategic views. Either candidate will change history by breaking glass barriers, and this channels gut-wrenching emotion into an already high stakes process. The debate in Myrtle Beach was just one more indication of how intensely these top contenders want the prize in 2008.
But in vying for the nomination and—in theory—the future of the party, this bitter wrestling match could cost them dearly on November 4.
