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BOSTON -- The Democratic party platform that will be adopted this week includes one particularly significant change from the platforms adopted by the party conventions of 1992, 1996 and 2000. During the platform-writing process, the drafting committee quietly removed the section of the document that endorsed capital punishment. Thus, for the first time since the 1980s, Democrats will not be campaigning on a pro-death penalty program.
Why the change?
Simply put, on the question of execution, John Kerry is a very different Democrat from Bill Clinton and Al Gore. Clinton and Gore, while surely aware that capital punishment is an ineffective and racially and economically biased vehicle for fighting crime, were willing to embrace it as a political tool. When he was running for the presidency in 1992, then Governor Clinton even rushed back to Arkansas during the 1992 campaign to oversee the execution of a mentally-retarded inmate.
With Clinton and Gore steering the party's policies, Democratic platforms explicitly and frequently endorsed capital punishment.
But Clinton and Gore are no longer at the helm. And, as of tonight, the party will no longer be on record as supporting the death penalty. Asked about the removal of the pro-capital punishment language, U.S. Representative Rosa DeLauro, D-Conn., the chair of the committee that drafted the document, explained that, "It's a reflection of John Kerry."
Kerry, who is often accused by his Republican critics of flip-flopping, is made of firmer stuff than most politicians when it comes to the issue of capital punishment. He opposes executions in virtually all cases -- making an exception only after the September 11, 2001, attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, when he said he would consider supporting capital punishment, in limited cases, for foreign terrorists.
On the domestic front, Kerry has earned high marks from death penalty critics. Last fall, when the Students Against the Death Penalty project of the American Civil Liberties Union rated the nine candidates who were then seeking the Democratic presidential nomination on a variety of death penalty-related issues, Kerry and Congressional Progressive Caucus co-chair Dennis Kucinich were the only two who received perfect scores.
Kerry opposes the execution of juveniles, supports greater access to DNA testing for death row inmates and argues that studies "reveal serious questions, racial bias, and deep disparities in the way the death penalty is applied." Kerry was a cosponsor of the National Death Penalty Moratorium Act of 2001 and of the National Death Penalty Moratorium Act of 2003.
"I know something about killing," Kerry says, referencing his service in Vietnam as a swift-boat commander. "I don't like killing. That's just a personal belief I have."
Polls show a majority of Americans support the death penalty in at least some instances. But since the late 1980s, enthusiasm for capital punishment has been slipping. Many Americans, including some political leaders such as former Illinois Governor George Ryan, have come to question the morality of state-sponsored executions, as the use of DNA analysis has led to the exoneration of dozens of death-row inmates.
Still, the death penalty remains a divisive issue. Not since 1988 has either major party nominated a critic of capital punishment for the presidency. The 1988 Democratic nominee, former Massachusetts Governor Michael Dukakis, was attacked by that year's Republican nominee, George Herbert Walker Bush, for opposing the death penalty. Whether Kerry will face similar attacks from Bush's son, an enthusiastic backer and frequent practitioner of state-sponsored executions during his days as governor of Texas, remains to be seen. But the volatility of the issue may explain why Democrats have been so quiet about the shift in platform language.
It is notable, however, that, in addition to Kerry's home state of Massachusetts, eleven other states bar executions. Among them are a number of the battleground states that could decide the November election, including Wisconsin, Iowa, Minnesota, Michigan, Maine and West Virginia.
BOSTON -- When Tammy Baldwin takes the stage at the Democratic National Convention Monday night, with a prime-time speaking slot on a star-studded bill that includes two former presidents, a former vice president and a former first lady, she will pause to recall just how far she has come from an empty apartment on a very different convention night.
Back in 1984, Baldwin was fresh out of college and back in her hometown of Madison, Wisconsin. She had just sublet a small, unfurnished apartment. There was a mat on the floor, a pan her aunt had given her and a tiny, black-and-white television set. Baldwin remembers sitting alone in the apartment, watching the Democratic National Convention that was held that summer in San Francisco.
"I was 22 years old, very interested in politics, but I didn't really know what my options were," Baldwin explained. "That 1984 convention was the one where the Democrats nominated Geraldine Ferraro, the first woman, to run for vice president. I was so excited. So there I was, in my little apartment, watching Geraldine Ferraro delivering her acceptance speech and thinking, 'Wow, I can do anything in politics. The barriers are being broken. The sky's the limit."
Baldwin would go on to break a few of those barriers herself. After serving in local government, she won a seat in the legislature and, in 1998, she was the first out-of-the-closet lesbian elected to a seat in Congress.
As one of the youngest women in the House, a leading light on the Judiciary Committee, a key player in the Congressional Progressive Caucus and, still, the only open lesbian, Baldwin is something of a political celebrity nationally -- and as much of an inspiration to a growing number of young progressive women as Ferraro was for her two decades ago. "I think Tammy Baldwin is one of the most interesting people in Congress, and she's certainly one of the most interesting speakers at this year's convention," says Laura Flanders, the Air America radio host who recently authored a book on women in and around the Bush administration. "I'm more excited to hear her speak than just about anyone else on the list."
But when Baldwin addresses the convention and the country Monday night, on a bill that will feature Bill Clinton, Jimmy Carter, Al Gore and Hillary Clinton, among other Democratic luminaries, she won't be addressing women's empowerment, or the same-sex marriage debate in which she led a spirited floor fight against conservative House Republicans just last week.
Rather, she will focus on what has long been her signature issue: health care reform.
As one of three members of the House chosen to address key issues of the campaign, Baldwin says, "It's my job to explain the challenges that we face in our health care system -- lack of coverage for tens of millions of Americans, inadequate coverage for tens of millions more -- and to explain why John Kerry would do a better job of addressing these issues than George Bush. In some senses, that won't be hard. There are night-and-day differences between their plans: John Kerry's got a proposal that would move quickly to cover 29 million more Americans, especially children. The president's plan only covers 1.6 million more people."
Baldwin, one of the most prominent backers in Congress of a single-payer health care system that would cover all Americans, admits that the proposal put forward by Kerry, the man Democrats will nominate this week for president, does not achieve the full coverage that a single-payer system would deliver. But she says that, after meeting with Kerry and reviewing his proposal, she is enthusiastic about making the case for the Massachusetts senator.
"My perspective is different on how we get there, but I'm very satisfied that John Kerry is committed to working toward getting quality health care for all Americans," says the congresswoman, who will save her single-payer rap for House debates. "The speech to the convention is not about walking on stage and telling the nation what Tammy Baldwin wants to do. This is a nominating convention and my job is to talk about why I think it is essential to nominate John Kerry."
That does not mean that Baldwin's address will be a dry recitation of Kerry's positions. She has written a speech that will use the stories of constituents from her Midwestern district to illustrate health care concerns and issues. And, in this day of scripted conventions, Baldwin says she was pleasantly pleased by the free hand she was given in preparing her remarks.
"I wrote a speech and submitted it to the Kerry people. They said they loved it – and it's a little too long," recalled Baldwin. "There was never any pressure on content, they just said I had to keep it to under 10 minutes."
Two other Democratic members of the House, Ohio's Stephanie Tubbs-Jones and New Jersey's Robert Menendez, will address the economy and national security issues, respectively, as part of the program that includes Baldwin. Tubbs-Jones is an African-American, Menendez is a Latino, and, of course, Baldwin is one of the handful of lesbian and gay members of the House. Unlike Republican conventions, however, Baldwin says she and the other speakers are on stage to deliver substance, not symbolism.
"Democrats aren't going to typecast anyone. They're embracing us as individuals who have made our mark on fundamental issues facing the country -- not just as symbols," says Baldwin. "That's what's really exciting about this party and this convention."
Still, Baldwin says she hopes there will be young women, some of them just out of college and sitting on the floor of their first apartments, who will be inspired both by what she has to say and by her presence in prime time.
"A few years ago, I met Geraldine Ferraro," Baldwin recalls. "I told her I probably wouldn't be in Congress if I hadn't seen her speech. I know that times have changed and there are a lot more women in prominent positions. But I would be so happy if I could do for someone else what she did for me in 1984."
Watch this space for daily posts from the DNC in Boston.
"The American people appreciate being told the truth," announced Cynthia McKinney, as she and her cheering supporters celebrated what the former Georgia congresswoman described as "one of the greatest political comebacks in history."
Swept from office in a 2002 Democratic primary that saw thousands of Republicans cross party lines with the specific goal of defeating the woman whose fierce criticism of President Bush shocked Republicans and frightened timid Democrats, McKinney on Tuesday won the Democratic nod to retake her Atlanta-area seat. Running against a field of five other Democratic contenders that included a former Atlanta City Council president and a prominent state senator, McKinney stunned pundits by securing 51 percent of the vote in Tuesday's primary election.
Because she won more than 50 percent of the vote, McKinney will not have to face a run-off election against a more moderate Democrat. In an overwhelmingly Democratic district, McKinney's chances of returning to the Congress next January look exceptionally good.
And McKinney's got some issues she would like to discuss with her former colleagues -- and the American people.
"We've got to make America, America again," McKinney declared in a victory speech that echoed the themes of the poet Langston Hughes. "We've got to reject backsliding on civil rights and human rights. We've got to get our troops out of harm's way and bring them home. We've got to turn around this Bush economy and get the American people back to work. In fact, while we're at it, let's just turn the whole Bush administration around and install a new resident in the White House!"
McKinney's antipathy toward the Bush administration made her a target in 2002, after she charged the president had failed to respond to warnings of terrorist threats and that allies of the president and vice president would benefit financially from a war in Iraq. Campaigning less than a year after the September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, with much of the Democratic political establishment arrayed against her, with Jewish groups criticizing her for supporting Palestinian rights, and with Republicans taking advantage of open primary laws to cross over and vote against the president's noisiest Congressional critic, McKinney lost the primary that year. After her defeat, she was written off by most political observers as a "conspiracy theorist" who was too radical and too outspoken on hot-button issues to ever make a comeback.
But a funny thing happened between 2002 and 2004.
Many of the concerns that McKinney had been attacked for addressing two years ago fit comfortably in the mainstream of the political discourse this year. Indeed, after former anti-terrorism czar Richard Clarke testified before the national 9-11 Commission about how the president and his aides had neglected warnings that Osama bin Laden and his followers intended to attack the United States, and after all the revelations regarding no-bid contracts and war profiteering by Dick Cheney's former employees at Halliburton, McKinney was able to campaign as truth teller who had been punished -- and then vindicated.
Still, most Democratic party leaders and her primary opponents presumed that McKinney could not secure the nomination. Two of her opponents raised more money than McKinney did, and the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, the dominant newspaper in the region, continued to editorialize against her with a vengeance. McKinney eschewed television advertising and relied instead on an army of volunteers that concentrated on getting out the vote among African-Americans and white progressives, and on her flair for highlighting the issues.
McKinney and her backers campaigned at theaters that featured Michael Moore's film "Fahrenheit 911," a showing of which the candidate attended with a crowd of backers that included the mother of a Georgia soldier killed in Iraq. Outside the theater, McKinney told reporters that Moore's movie was "a truth celebration." And, at screenings of the film in Atlanta, crowds cheered when the former congresswoman appeared to decry voter disenfranchisement during a segment dealing with the contested Florida presidential vote of 2000.
In an election that did not see substantial Republican cross-over voting -- a contested GOP Senate primary kept partisans in line -- McKinney ran well not only in African-American neighborhoods where she has traditionally been strong but in white precincts where many Democrats have come to see her as someone with the courage to take on the Bush administration. "She has the guts to speak truth to the government, and she's trying to help poor people and youth," Jesse McNulty, a teacher from Decatur, Georgia, explained when asked why he had voted for McKinney. "If Bush was to win. God forbid, at least we have McKinney up there (in Washington)."
What with all the controversy that arose after one of President Bush's appointees to the federal Election Assistance Commission sought to establish guidelines for suspending the November presidential election in case of a terrorist incident, citizens can be excused for presuming that this is a radical new notion. But it's not.
Borrowing several pages from the Joe Stalin Manual of Electoral Etiquette, the president's Republican allies canceled party primary elections in states across the country during the current election season -- often claiming that voting was pointless because President Bush was going to win anyway.
Last year, Republican-controlled legislatures in Kansas, Colorado and Utah canceled their state-run 2004 presidential primaries. The pattern continued even after the presidential campaign got going, with the suspension this year of presidential primaries in Florida, New York, Connecticut, Mississippi, South Carolina, South Dakota and Puerto Rico.
So it was that, while Democratic voters went to the polls to express their presidential preferences and select delegates to their party convention, the Republican process in many of the same states was effectively shut down. Instead of selecting delegates in primaries that attract significant numbers of voters, some of whom might dissent from party orthodoxy, Republicans in key states chose to play things out behind closed doors -- in caucuses or other "official" settings.
Why were so many Republican primaries canceled? Officially, the line was that Republican legislators and party leaders wanted to save the money it would cost to hold the primaries that President Bush would surely win.
Aside from the fact that canceling elections because someone is expected to win creates a democratic Catch-22, the cost-cutting talk is as bogus as the claim that a clear Bush victory could be divined from all those uncounted ballots from Florida's contested 2000 voting. The savings that can be achieved by canceling an election are small, while the cost to democracy is large. Indeed, when legislators voted to cancel the party primaries in Arizona, Governor Janet Napolitano vetoed the measure and declared, "Arizona can well afford the price of democracy."
That is true of every state. So why did the cancellations really occur?
Because Republican party bosses did not want President Bush to be embarrassed by evidence of Republican opposition.
As it turns out, the concern was well founded. In several states that held Republican primaries this year, significant numbers of GOP voters rejected Bush.
In New Hampshire, for instance, 22 percent of citizens who selected Republican presidential primary ballots voted for someone other than Bush. (More than 3,000 New Hampshire Republican primary voters wrote in the name of Democrat John Kerry.) In Rhode Island, more than 15 percent of Republican primary voters rejected Bush. In Idaho and Oklahoma, more than 10 percent of Republicans cast Anyone-But-Bush votes, while almost 10 percent did so in Massachusetts. Even in the president's home state of Texas, more than 50,000 Republican primary voters refused to back Bush.
Despite the convention show that Republican leaders will put on in New York next month, Bush has inspired a good deal of grumbling among the faithful. The results from a number of the states that actually held Republican primaries reflect that embarrassing fact. There are no embarrassing results from states that canceled Republican primaries -- which, of course, was the point of the cancellations.
No wonder so many Americans got scared when Bush appointees started talking about plans to cancel the November elections. Perhaps they have come to the conclusion, based on all those canceled primaries, that this administration and its minions believe democracy is a tidier enterprise when the voters are excluded.
When Howard Dean's outsider campaign for Democratic presidential nomination began to take off year ago, Ralph Nader was at least somewhat enthusiastic about the enterprise, going so far as to suggest that the Vermont governor's challenge to the party establishment was in many senses an amplification of his own condemnations of Democratic drift away from core principles. For his part, candidate Dean was far more generous than most Democrats when it came to praising Nader's 40 year record of talking on established interests. The former Vermont governor actually moved from his old centrist positions toward what could be described as "Naderite" stances on issues such as free trade and regulating corporate power. And he reached out with some success to activists who had backed Nader's 2000 presidential campaign --especially on the nation's campuses.
There was even talk among Dean backers that, if their candidate secured the Democratic nomination, Nader might decide against making a third bid for the presidency in 2004.
But that was then, and this is the now where Dean is an enthusiastic campaigner for soon-to-be-nominated Democratic presidential candidate John Kerry, while Nader is mounting an independent challenge to both Kerry and Republican President George W. Bush. And, as Friday's debate between Dean and Nader on National Public Radio's "Justice Talking" program illustrated, the two mavericks are no longer winking at one another.
"You were an insurgent who has now adopted the role of being a detergent for the dirty linen of the Democratic Party," Nader told Dean, who appeared on the program to argue that the consumer activist should drop his independent candidacy and back the Democratic ticket.
Dean shot back, "What I see in this (Nader) candidacy is the perfect becoming the enemy of the good."
And so it went.
"We're taking apart the Bush Administration in ways that the Democratic party is afraid to," Nader said, emphasizing his campaign's antiwar stance and his take-no-prisoners assault on the influence of corporate contributors and lobbyists.
"This is not going to help the progressive movement in America," moaned Dean, who tried his best to suggest that Kerry is a legitimate standard bearer for that movement and added, "I wish you were on our team, Ralph, because we need you."
Anyone who imagined that Dean and Nader might have found some common ground with regards to the fall race came away from the debate sorely disappointed. But the truth is that no one who has spent much time watching Nader's campaign this year expected him to back off at the behest of Dean. While Nader has admitted to having been impressed with many aspects of Dean's insurgent campaign, these guys were never ideological soul mates. Nader was, and is, far closer to Congressional Progressive Caucus co-chair Dennis Kucinich, who continues to challenge Kerry for the nomination--albeit without much notice from the party or the media.
The Nader-Dean debate was less a serious dialogue about the possibility of forging a united front against Bush's reelection than a reminder that, while Nader and many Democrats share policy stances on issues ranging from opposition to the war to support for fair trade, single-payer health care and public financing of campaigns, they have not reached any kind of consensus with regard to the necessity of cooperation in the immediate political moment.
It wasn't for lack of trying by Dean, who agreed to debate Nader as part of a stepped up effort by Kerry backers to reach out to left-leaning voters who could stray from the Democratic fold. While Dean stopped short of accusing Nader of costing Democrat Al Gore the presidency in 2000, the former candidate did suggest that Nader could cost Kerry the presidency this year.
Describing the threat of a second Bush term as "an extraordinary emergency," the man whose own candidacy shook up the Democratic establishment almost as much as has Nader's, declared, "When the house is on fire, it's not the time to fix the furniture." Sure, Dean admitted, he might have differences with Kerry on some issues. But he argued the "progressives must unite behind Kerry" line with passion.
Nader was unconvinced. At several points, the independent candidate read down a list of sharp shots at Kerry--"corporate clone," "lesser of two evils." And then he reminded the Vermonter that those were Dean's own words from the primary season.
Nader allowed as how he preferred "Howard Dean the First," who took on the party establishment last year, as opposed to "Howard Dean the Second," who he accused of carrying the establishment's water this year.
Predictably, the conversation grew heated.
Dean accused Nader of peddling "disingenuous nonsense," and then noted that a group Nader founded, Public Citizen, had hailed Kerry's stances on many of the issues that are of concern to progressives. After a few more jabs at Nader, Dean announced that, "My purpose here is not to smear Ralph Nader."
At that point, a bemused Nader interjected, "Oh, no, not at all."
By now, the crowd was laughing.
But Dean remained serious, and on message. "I ask you not to turn your back on your legacy," he pleaded with Nader. A few minutes later, Dean banged on the independent candidate for what he suggested was just such an abandonment, citing reports that the Nader campaign had accepted the aid of religious right groups, such as the Oregon Family Council, in its quest to achieve ballot status.
"The way to change the country is not to get in bed with right-wing, anti-gay groups to get on the ballot," said Dean.
Nader griped about efforts by Democrats to keep him off ballots. Dean told Nader to renounce the Oregon Family Council and other right-wing groups that have allegedly aided his candidacy.
"Just renounce them!" demanded the Vermonter.
"Alright, I renounce them," Nader replied. But then he demanded that Dean renounce corporate wrongdoers that have donated to the Democrats, which the governor did. Then Dean started talking about someone else Nader should renounce. And, when all was said and done, neither Nader, nor Dean, had convinced the other man of much.
The most interesting question remained unasked and unanswered: Would Nader have backed off if Dean had emerged as the Democratic nominee?
But we do know the one suggestion that Dean would make to Nader. When "Justice Talking" host Margot Adler sought to ease the tension by soliciting advice from a former contender to a current candidate, Dean said that Nader should: "Lighten up."
Nader smiled and allowed as how, "That's better than what I thought he was going to say."
At the risk of bringing too much clarity to the overheated discussion about whether Arizona Senator John McCain really was John Kerry's "first choice" for the number two spot on the Democratic ticket, it is appropriate to recall a June 11 statement issued by the Arizona senator's office.
"Senator McCain categorically states that he has not been offered the vice presidency by any one," said Mark Salter, the senator's chief of staff.
Salter issued that firm denial after the Associated Press was checking out the last of the rumors that Kerry, the presumptive Democratic nominee for president, had offered McCain, a Republican senator whose disdain for President Bush has been well documented, a place on the ticket that will seek to remove Bush and Vice President Dick Cheney from the White House.
According to AP, a pair of Democratic officials were peddling the story that "McCain has personally rejected John Kerry's overtures to join the Democratic presidential ticket and forge a bipartisan alliance against President Bush." That sounded pretty serious. But then, in recognition of the firm denial from McCain's office, the AP report backtracked. "Both officials said Kerry stopped short of offering McCain the job, sparing himself an outright rejection that would make his eventual running mate look like a second choice," AP acknowledged.
In the real world, that should have settled the matter. But, of course, politics is not the real world.
So, now, despite the fact that McCain "categorically states that he has not been offered the vice presidency by any one," the Republican National Committee is mounting an aggressive campaign to portray Kerry's choice, North Carolina Senator John Edwards, as the presidential candidate's "second choice." There's no subtlety here: A new Bush-Cheney television ad featuring a clip of McCain introducing Bush is titled ""First Choice." And every Republican spokesman who got his talking-points script was, by mid-day Tuesday, using the "second-choice" jab in their remarks regarding Edwards.
The ads and the jabs are disingenuous at their core. McCain is a loyal Republican, who is seeking reelection to the Senate this fall on the party line, so, yes, he has officially endorsed Bush. But it is no secret in Washington that McCain maintains a healthy personal disregard for Bush, whose campaign and its supporters launched visceral attacks on the Arizona senator during their fight for the 2000 Republican presidential nomination. McCain has said that Bush "should be ashamed" of the character of his primary campaign. (When Bush asked whether McCain would join his ticket in 2000, the senator refused -- which would seem to suggest that Dick Cheney was Bush's "second choice.)
This year, McCain has been quick to counter the Bush campaign's attacks on Kerry, a fellow Vietnam veteran, sometime legislative ally and longtime friend. Asked in March, during a CBS interview, whether he agreed with assertions by the Bush campaign that Kerry would endanger national security, McCain replied, "I don't think that. I think that John Kerry is a good and decent man. I think he has served his country. I think he has different points of view on different issues and he will have to explain his voting record. But this kind of (attack) rhetoric, I think, is not helpful in educating and helping the American people make a choice."
Comments like that fed talk about the possibility that Kerry and McCain would link up to form a bipartisan "unity ticket" to depose Bush and Cheney. But it was always just that: talk. Undoubtedly, Kerry and McCain enjoyed the flirtation. And, yes, the dance extended for some time. But it never evolved into the sort of serious consideration that Kerry gave Edwards, former House Minority Leader Dick Gephardt, Iowa Governor Tom Vilsack and various other Democrats.
It wasn't simply reticence on McCain's part that prevented this flirtation from developing into something more serious. Kerry had a problem with it, as well. McCain is an opponent of abortion rights and many gay rights measures, a backer of Republican tax-cutting schemes and one of the most vehement hawks in the Congress -- even before Bush was promoting war with Iraq, McCain joined with the atrocious Senator Joe Lieberman, D-Connecticut, to advocate for military action. In other words, McCain may be a maverick, but he is hardly a certifiable moderate.
Choosing McCain would have opened rifts within the Democratic party, causing anti-war Democrats who already distrust Kerry to wonder whether a protest vote for Ralph Nader might make sense, and raising real concern among abortion rights activists who would have worried about positioning a consistent foe of a woman's right to choose to break tie votes in a closely-divided Senate.
The bottom line: Kerry knew he could not select McCain. It was a fun flirtation -- and, as with any flirtation, both men undoubtedly entertained fantasies about taking things further. But there is no evidence to suggest that the discussion ever reached the level of seriousness that the Republican spin now suggests.
There is, however, one Kerry-McCain mystery that remains unresolved: Does anyone believe that John McCain will actually vote for George w. Bush?
Never let it be said that John Kerry rushes to judgement. Four months after just about every other Democrat had decided a Kerry-Edwards ticket was the best bet for the party, the presumptive Democratic presidential nominee has accepted the conventional wisdom and named North Carolina Senator John Edwards as his vice presidential running mate.
From that January night when Kerry and Edwards topped Howard Dean in the Iowa caucuses -- effectively ending the Vermont governor's chances of securing the Democratic nomination -- there was talk about how Kerry and Edwards would be the best combination for the party. Kerry was always seen as the ticket topper. While Edwards was a better campaigner, Kerry had the organization and the money that would allow him to prevail in the primaries. And so he did. But as soon as Edwards folded his campaign in early March, after Kerry swept the Super Tuesday primaries, the question became: When are these two guys going to get together.
Why, then, did it take four months to close the deal? Why didn't Kerry name his running mate in the spring, as some aides suggested he might, in order to mount a two-man challenge to the Bush-Cheney ticket during the critical months of late spring and early summer?
Kerry wasn't ready, or willing, to embrace Edwards any sooner than he did. It was no secret that Kerry thought of Edwards as something of a hot dog, a first-term senator who entered politics as a mid-life career change and still seemed to be a bit better at delivering a stump speech than at sorting through the details of public policy. Kerry, a four-term senator, was more comfortable with another Washington insider, former House Minority Leader Dick Gephardt. But Gephardt inspired less enthusiasm than Kerry. Eventually, even Gephardt acknowledged as much; in a conversation several days ago, the Missourian quietly released Kerry to select Edwards.
The consistently cautious Kerry was never going to make a dangerous or unexpected choice. But he might well have picked someone other than Edwards -- Gephardt, Iowa Governor Tom Vilsack or Florida Senator Bob Graham -- if he had opened enough of a lead to look like a frontrunner. That never happened. With the election less than four months away, Kerry is, at best, running even with President Bush nationally and he is behind in a number of battleground states.
As the time to name a running mate approached, Kerry knew he needed to pump up the volume. And Edwards, who campaigned for the vice presidency more aggressively than anyone since Richard Nixon in 1952, made it clear to everyone that he was ready to give the Kerry campaign a charisma infusion.
It's a given that Edwards adds star quality to the ticket. On paper, he's a decade younger than Kerry; in person, he looks two decades younger. Edwards came out of the primary campaign with a reputation as the best candidate on the stump; in fact, several other candidates, including Dean and Al Sharpton, delivered better individual speeches, and Gephardt and Dennis Kucinich often scored more debating points. What distinguished Edwards was that his speeches were consistently solid and effective -- and, as he began to speak more and more about the issue of poverty, the most moving -- and his debate performances, while sometimes less than stellar, were never weak or embarrassing. What distinguished him even more was the skill with which he handled the press, and his genuineness as a one-on-one campaigner. Edwards wades into a crowd every bit as enthusiastically as Bill Clinton, and that's going to count for a lot in the handshake-to-handshake combat that will characterize the campaigning in the battleground states that are likely to decide the fall race.
So what else does Edwards bring to the ticket:
* Consistency With Kerry: For better or worse, Kerry and Edwards are cut from the same ideological cloth, as their Senate records illustrate. Both men voted in 2002 to authorize Bush to invade Iraq, and then both men voted in 2003 against authorizing the expenditure of another $87 billion to pay for the occupation of that country. Both backed the Patriot Act. Edwards has a better record than Kerry on corporate issues, especially trade policy, but it is not dramatically better -- because of a 2001 vote to give Bush "trade promotion authority" to negotiate new international trade agreements and some other missteps, unions were almost as uncomfortable with Edwards as they were with Kerry early in the campaign. The liberal Americans for Democratic Action generally ranks the two men about the same on the issues -- in the critical year of 2001, the first of Bush's presidency, Kerry and Edwards both had 90 percent ADA ratings. In 2002, as Kerry and Edwards were preparing to seek the presidency, the American Civil Liberties Union gave each man a 60 percent rating, the deficit hawks at the Concord Coalition gave both a 65 percent rating, the big-business advocates at the U.S. Chamber of Commerce gave both a 55 rating, and the conservative National Taxpayers Union gave both an 18 rating. Edwards scores a little better with labor unions, mainly because he is a little better on the trade issues. Kerry scores a little better with environmental groups. But both men voted against impeaching Bill Clinton, against confirming John Ashcroft as attorney general, against the Bush administration's tax cuts, against allowing development of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, against limits on abortion rights, and in favor of campaign finance reform, expansion of the Patients' Bill of Rights and for most gay rights measures -- for instance, though neither man advocates allowing same-sex marriages, they both oppose the proposed Constitutional amendment to ban such unions.
* Small town Appeal: Democratic fortunes collapsed in rural and Small town America in 2000, tipping the balance to Bush in a number of key states. The Kerry campaign has to dramatically increase its appeal in regions where voters tend to be more culturally conservative but could be brought around if Democrats deliver a strong economic message with regards to protecting family farms and promoting rural development. Edwards, who sought the Democratic presidential nomination as something of a rural candidate, has perfected a reasonably populist appeal on these issues. In Iowa and other states, he frequently took the stage as John Mellencamp's song "Small Town" blared through the speaker system, and he's gotten good at talking about things like counter-cyclical payments for economically-distressed farmers. Much is made of Edwards' appeal in the south, but some of his best caucus and primary finishes were in the farm states of the upper Midwest that remain among the most competitive in this fall's contest; he came in a solid second in Iowa in January and he almost beat Kerry in Wisconsin's February primary.
* Southern Possibilities: Polls suggest that, while its an uphill struggle, Kerry could win as many as four southern states: Florida, Louisiana, Arkansas and North Carolina. Edwards, who makes a big deal about his southern accent, ought to be able to help in all of those states. Even if the Kerry-Edwards ticket does not prevail, the presence of Edwards on the national ticket should benefit Democrats in critical Senate races in North Carolina (the state he represents in the Senate), South Carolina (the state where he was born), Florida and Louisiana.
* Some Liberal/Left Appeal: Edwards is no lefty. His votes on the war and the Patriot Act meant disqualified him as a first-choice presidential contender in the eyes of Democrats who wanted to nominate someone who would battle Bush on those issues. But progressive activists have, from the start of the 2004 campaign cycle, tended to find Edwards more appealing than Kerry. In Iowa, Edwards and Dennis Kucinich worked out an agreement to support one another in caucuses where neither candidate was viable on his own -- a deal that helped Edwards far more than it did Kucinich. Edwards drew strong support late in the primary season from UNITE, the textile workers union that has played a leadership role in anti-sweatshop campaigning and has good ties to student activists on that and other labor issues. More recently, Ralph Nader made it known that he thought Edwards was the best prospect among the contenders Kerry was considering for the vice presidential slot. Will the Edwards pick get Nader out of the race? Not likely. The independent presidential candidate is furious with Democrats for supporting efforts to knock him off state ballots. But if there is any chance that Nader could be convinced to adopt a "safe-states" strategy that keeps him out of the battleground states, it improves with Edwards on the ticket.
* A Real Challenger for Dick Cheney: In 2000, Democratic vice presidential candidate Joe Lieberman spent most of his time agreeing with Republican Cheney in their one debate. Lieberman's failure to distinguish himself from Cheney hurt the ticket. That won't happen with Edwards. Republican aides were already peddling the line that Cheney's experience and gravitas will trump Edwards' youth and enthusiasm. Don't bet on it. Edwards shines in debates with Republicans -- he beat a GOP incumbent to win his Senate seat in 1998 -- and may be more prepared to take on Cheney than Republican expect. The North Carolina senator has been going after the vice president for months -- he made a hit on Halliburton and war profiteering central to his stump speech during the primary season -- and, as Kerry says, "I can't tell you... how eager I am for the day this fall when he stands up for our vision and goes toe-to-toe with Dick Cheney."
Above all, however, Edwards brings to the Kerry campaign something that has been missing up to this point: a recognizable and appealing domestic-policy message. Kerry secured the nomination by playing on his record as a veteran and his foreign policy and national security experience. Democratic caucus and primary voters bet, perhaps wisely, that those strengths would be needed in a race with Bush. But Kerry never developed a functional, let alone inspiring message for the home front. With his talk about the need to close the economic gap between what he referred to as the "two Americas," and with his emphasis on developing programs to aid the working poor, Edwards renewed old Democratic Party themes that will play very well -- especially with wavering Democrats and independents -- in a year when pessimism about the economy could yet decide the direction of the presidential race.
Add it all up and Edwards looks like a sound pick for Kerry. The best pick? Not necessarily. Other contenders might have brought more to the ticket. But, of the prospects the ever-cautious Kerry was willing to consider, Edwards always looked to be the candidate with the most to offer. Now, only the most fundamental question remains: Will Kerry, who was never as comfortable with Edwards as he was with other potential running mates, be flexible enough to really incorporate Edwards, and the North Carolinian's "two Americas" message, into the fabric of the campaign? If he does, he might yet prove one of the oldest American political cliches true: The vice presidential selection could be the most important choice of Kerry's campaign.
The Patriot Act, sweeping as it is, does not ban every expression of radicalism. On at least one day each year, Americans still celebrate revolution.
Indeed, so long as no one tells John Ashcroft or Dick Cheney that the Fourth of July honors revolutionaries who threw off the chains of colonialism, empire, monarchy and the state-sponsored religion that were - and remain - the primary threats to freedom and human advancement, the holiday is probably safe from interference from our contemporary King George and his churlish courtiers.
But how should Americans who take seriously the promise of a revolution - "that all men (and women) are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with inalienable rights" and "that to secure these rights, governments are instituted among these men (and women), deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed" - go about celebrating this Fourth of July?
Here, in a reprise of this writer's annual reflections on the Fourth, are some thoughts on how patriots might celebrate what Tom Paine referred to as "the birthday of the new world."
Should we raise the red-white-and-blue banner of the Republic? Well, of course. Though it has been dragged through the mud by so-called "patriots" who continue to engage in the sort of military adventurism that both Washington and Jefferson warned against in their farewell addresses to the nation, this remains the flag of the Wisconsinites who marched south to banish the crime of slavery from this country's soil. No flag has yet been associated with a nobler military endeavor than the Stars and Stripes when it flew above those who battled the Southern scoundrels who marched beneath the banner of human bondage.
Should we celebrate the founders themselves? Yes, within reason. It is true that many of the men who made this nation were flawed. The best of them admitted as much at the time. The worst were revealed in time. But no one who cherishes liberty should hesitate to raise a cheer for old Tom Paine, who wrote of Americans in 1776: "We have it in our power to begin the world over again. A situation similar to the present hath not happened since the days of Noah until now. The birthday of the new world is at hand, and a race of men, perhaps as numerous as all Europe contains, are to receive their portion of freedom from the events of a few months."
As America celebrates the 228th birthday of the new world, however, it is important to recall that Paine also reflected upon the prospect: "If you subvert the basis of the revolution, if you dispense with principles and substitute expedients, you will extinguish that enthusiasm and energy which have hitherto been the life and soul of the revolution; and you will substitute in its place nothing but a cold indifference and self-interest, which will again degenerate into intrigue, cunning and effeminacy."
Paine's warning anticipated this degenerate moment, in which Americans are awakening to the prospect that the president and his advisers intrigued the country into a foreign misadventure that stinks rather too much of the imperialism Americans once associated with the British crown their forebears revolted against.
Should we despair at the realization of Paine's worst fear for the land? Perhaps a bit. But Paine would surely warn against surrendering to that despair. These may, in fact, be the times that try men's souls. But as Tom Paine suggested in 1776, such times are where the false patriots are separated from the true: "The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he that stands it now deserves the love and thanks of man and woman."
George W. Bush and Dick Cheney, as definitional a pair of summer soldiers as ever will be found, can lead their sunshine patriots in celebrations of imperialistic conquest and their allegiance with Tony Blair and what remains of the tattered British realm. The sons and daughters of Tom Paine will stand this Fourth of July and honor the revolutionary spirit that revolted against the corruptions of empire.
MILWAUKEE--After twice seeking the presidency as the nominee of the Green Party, and playing a critical role in building it into a force capable of delivering almost two-dozen state ballot lines and a nationwide infrastructure of volunteers, Ralph Nader turned his back on the party and announced earlier this year that he would mount an independent campaign for the nation's top job. As that campaign struggled to gain ballot lines and volunteer support, however, it began to look as if Nader could use the help of the Greens. Thus, with party delegates gathering here for Saturday's national convention vote on who to back for the presidency, Nader and his backers made what at times looked like a frantic attempt to secure the endorsement of the Greens.
On the eve of the convention, Nader selected a prominent Green, two-time California gubernatorial candidate Peter Camejo, as his vice-presidential running mate. Though he did not make a formal bid for the party's nomination, he signaled that he wanted its endorsement. He expressed sympathy with the party platform. His backers flooded the convention hotel and hall with green-and-yellow "Nader/Camejo 2004" posters and, on the night before the presidential vote, Nader spoke by phone to a rally where the crowd chanted "Run Ralph Run."
It was too little, too late.
The convention rejected proposals that it endorse Nader and instead nominated David Cobb, a lawyer and anticorporate activist who had mounted a full-fledged campaign for the party's nod. The contest was reasonably close. Cobb won 408 votes in the second round of balloting--twenty-three more than half those cast--to secure the nomination. In that round, 308 votes were cast for no nomination. If the "no nomination" option had prevailed, it was expected that the convention would then vote to endorse Nader's independent candidacy.
Cobb, who played an active role in Nader's 2000 campaign, was generous in victory. "Ralph Nader has had more influence on my life than anyone who is not a direct relative. I am a lawyer because of Ralph Nader. Without Ralph Nader, this nomination wouldn't have happened," Cobb told delegates gathered at the Midwest Express Center in downtown Milwaukee. "Ralph, if you are watching, thank you for what you have done, and thank you for what you will continue to do."
Warm words for Nader were common at a convention where some delegates held signs that read, "Where is Ralph?" Few doubted that Nader could have secured the nomination if he had not shunned the party during the first months of his candidacy. "If Ralph had made a serious effort to win the nomination, he would have won it," said Medea Benjamin, a nationally recognized peace and economic justice activist who campaigned with Nader in 2000, when she was the Green Party nominee for a California US Senate seat. "But he didn't even show up. I think a lot of Greens felt that he was taking them for granted."
Benjamin backed Cobb, who unlike Nader is a member of the Green Party. Cobb said his primary goal was to built the Green Party for the long term. At the same time, he promised to avoid running a campaign where he could be accused of "spoiling" the contest between President George W. Bush and challenger John Kerry by drawing votes from Democrat is key states and throwing the election to the Republican--as critics claim Nader did in 2000.
While Cobb criticized Kerry's "corporate agenda," he promised to "honestly tell the American people that George W. Bush is even more dangerous than John Kerry."
Practically, Cobb plans to campaign for Green candidates in all fifty states, but only to aggressively seek votes for himself in the roughly forty states where the Bush-Kerry contest is not expected to be close.
That commitment distinguished Cobb from Nader. But, in the end, it was Nader's neglect--until the last minute--of the party that had twice run him for the presidency that Benjamin and others said did him the most damage.
"If he would have come here, he would have been a shoo-in," Rick Otten, an Ohio delegate, said of Nader.
There was also a sense among many of the delegates that, while Nader was a bigger name, Cobb would be more serious about the work of party building. "This feels right," Minnesota Green Party activist Annie Young, who backed Cobb, told a reporter. "This is about building the party. We've broken our leash with Ralph Nader. Now we're ready to go out on our own and see what we can do."
Nader, who continues to show well in many polls, is much better known than Cobb--and that is likely to remain the case through the November election. But Cobb could end up on more state ballots than the veteran consumer activist. The Greens already have ballot lines in twenty-two states and the District of Columbia. Party volunteers will work to get Cobb on more ballots. But some of the most serious hurdles have already been cleared. For instance, the Green nomination automatically secures Cobb a place on the ballot in California, the nation's most populous state.
On the other hand, Nader's campaign will have to scramble to gather the more than 150,000 signatures that are required to get the name of an independent on this year's California ballot.
Former President Bill Clinton can add another line to his résumé: bestselling author.
Clinton's autobiography, My Life, looks like it could achieve sales of 2 million. It had topped the amazon.com sales list even before its release. And by the time it was officially available, at midnight on Tuesday, crowds were lined up outside the bookstores that were smart enough to stay open. Some even had to put on extra help to handle the demand, providing evidence that, even as an ex-President, Clinton is still better at creating jobs than George W. Bush.
But what is the significance of this latest bout of Clintonmania?
Clintonites will, of course, embrace it with delight. This is the moment they have been waiting for--the return of the king, the renewal of the dream, the restoration of the legacy. They will hope that, as Clinton gets more and more exposure in the days and weeks ahead, voters will recall the period of relative peace and prosperity over which he presided. (The Clinton defenders should also hope that no one brings up the damage that Clinton's misguided trade policies did to American manufacturing.)
Clinton haters will groan from their sinecures as Fox News personalities and commentators. This is their worst nightmare--the overshadowing of Bush II by a dynamic Democrat, the contrasting of the competence that was with the bumbling that is, the reminding of the citizenry that Presidents actually can be articulate. They will hope that, as the media focuses excessive attention of the Monica Lewinsky scandal, Americans will somehow be duped into believing that Clinton's lies about infidelity were somehow more troubling than Bush's lies about weapons of mass destruction and other so-called "justifications" for war with Iraq. (It is a vain hope. Americans are smart enough to figure out that, as the bumper sticker reads, "When Bush Lied, People Died.")
For most Americans, who fall somewhere between the Clinton lovers and haters, this Clinton moment will, like the period immediately following Ronald Reagan's death, be a time for casual nostalgia. They will remember why they twice chose Clinton to be their President, and why they probably would have re-elected him if they'd gotten the chance in 2000. That does not mean, however, that they will run out and buy the book--let alone read it.
While some commentators, spying the long lines at bookstores and imbibing liberally of the hype, have taken to referring to My Life as "the adult Harry Potter book of the summer," Clinton's sales will never rival those of the boy wizard.
The vast majority of Americans will learn about the contents of My Life not by reading a copy but by consuming some of the constant coverage provided by the media. Those who purchase the tome are likely to sample from the text rather than read all 957 pages. Some of the few who make it to the end will react as did New York Times reviewer Michiko Kakutani, who concluded that Clinton's book was "sloppy, self-indulgent and often eye-crossingly dull--the sound of one man prattling away, not for the reader, but for himself and some distant recording angel of history." Others will swear, as Clinton's defenders so frequently do, that they saw a glimpse of Camelot somewhere amid those many pages.
The fair analysis of Clinton's book lies somewhere in the middle. Presidential autobiographies generally fail to illuminate, and it appears that Clinton has maintained the tradition. There are few revelations in My Life. But, even if this book is not a page-turner, it does offer more useful insights into the first baby-boomer President's life and political legacy than even more self-serving memoirs did for Richard Nixon and Ronald Reagan.
Clinton's recollections regarding the Middle East peace process are poignant; his comments on combating terrorism are more informative and instructive than the grumblings of President Bush or Vice President Cheney. And his complaints about the abuses of process and politics committed by not-so-special prosecutor Ken Starr and his minions merit repetition.
Ultimately, however, this latest Clinton moment will be just that: a moment. It is a summer break, nothing more. In a few weeks, the discussion of Clinton will fade. And Americans will focus again on the contest between Bush and Democrat John Kerry for the presidency. The suggestion that all this attention to Clinton will undermine Kerry is comic. Clinton is a more impressive figure than Bush, that's true. But so is Kerry. And a few weeks of focus on Clinton will, when all is said and done, serve as a welcome reminder that in the none too distant past the United States had a President who was competent, articulate and at least reasonably concerned about promoting international cooperation. It is difficult to imagine how that recollection will benefit George W. Bush's re-election prospects.