Kerry: Undecided to the end
By Jonah Goldberg
BOSTON — In 1970, President Nixon nominated Judge G. Harrold Carswell to the Supreme Court. Responding to the criticism that Carswell was a mediocre nominee, Nebraska Sen. Roman Hruska defended the judge, saying there are lots of mediocre people, and "they are entitled to a little representation, aren't they?"
Well, in America today, there are lots of undecided people and, now that the Democratic convention is over, it's clear the John Kerry campaign thinks they deserve a little representation, too. From the outset, this convention has appealed to voters who are not merely undecided about Bush vs. Kerry, but who are undecided about a lot of things.
I'd presume that some delegates — as they wait at the airport, funny hats safely stowed — may feel as though they've just seen a Rorschach test in which people of diverse political views can all see something in the candidate.
Yes, yes, Kerry is a flip-flopper. But such charges don't do justice to his worldview. The man has more facets than a disco ball. Take Kerry's infamous "I actually did vote for the $87 billion before I voted against it" gaffe about funding for the Iraq war. Kerry rejects the idea that even a yes-or-no vote is a yes-or-no proposition.
Yes, no, maybe so
For most, a yes/no vote is like a light switch — only two possible positions. But for Kerry, everything has a dimmer knob. He rejects the notion that the bulb must be on or off. He thinks he can blend black and white into shades of gray — illuminating here, obscuring there.
This theme plays out over and over again in his biography, most famously in his record as both a decorated veteran and demagogic anti-war activist. He was for the Vietnam War before he was against it. In Kerry's world, squares can be circles, straight lines crooked, cats dogs. To borrow from the immortal Yogi Berra, when Kerry comes to a fork in the road, he takes it.
In many respects, such cognitive dissonance is a continuation of pre-9/11 political trends. The first George Bush said he had "more will than wallet." Bill Clinton promised a "third way" that "rejected the false choices" between right and left. And George W. Bush's uniting-not-dividing compassionate conservatism was more of a Republican version of Clintonian triangulation than a Republican alternative to it.
But Kerry's tactical gamble is bolder. His predecessors were all elected when the Cold War was ending or over, and a nation at peace can afford to roll the dice. Kerry is running during a war that some consider vital, some see as confusing and others dismiss as unnecessary. Kerry wants to win over all three groups by agreeing with all of them. He does this by talking in paragraphs of boring logical-loop-the-loop sentences that seem to be written in vanishing ink. But he's also trying to downplay the importance of the war. Kerry wants to "handle" the war on terrorism, not dedicate himself to it.
In fact, when asked during a primary debate in Milwaukee whether he, like Bush, would see himself as a war president, he said, "I'd see myself first of all as a jobs president."
Indeed, a number of political commentators have been arguing that Kerry's best shot is to be the candidate who will deliver voters a "holiday from history." Americans, according to this theory, want time to digest all of the momentous events since 9/11 and not be bothered with news of car bombs, interim governments and jihadists.
Long-table diplomacy
The world may be consumed by the maelstrom, but Kerry will guarantee that America remains in the eye of the storm. He'll do this by conjuring chimerical "strong alliances" and negotiating in "good faith" with sycophantic foreign leaders around long tables festooned with bottled water and clever cheese. Never mind that these are impossible promises — much like Neville Chamberlain's "peace in our time." Indeed, impossible promises are often the ones voters want to hear most.
Yes, of course, Kerry and, suddenly, John Edwards say al-Qaeda must be destroyed, but such statements are no-brainers politically. What candidate is going to proudly proclaim that Uncle Sam will bend over for a paddling like Kevin Bacon in Animal House and yell "Thank you, sir! May I have another!" after 9/11?
But when it comes to looking the threats we face square in the eye in order to make the hard decisions, the Boston Democrats still blink. For example, they still talk about first-responders as a defense against terrorism. That makes as much sense as saying new Band-Aids are an improved defense against bullies.
After four days here, I must say in all fairness that the Boston Democrats represent huge progress over, say, the San Francisco Democrats of '84 who, in Jeanne Kirkpatrick's words, blamed America first. To the extent this evolution is sincere rather than contrived, they should be commended. But if this election ends up truly being about national security, the Democrats will have to do a lot better at explaining the difference between nuance and naïveté.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-at-large of National Review Online and syndicated columnist.
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