Gilmore record difficult to spin

An ostensible mark of conservatism is resistance to change, and so the Shenandoah Valley resists, preserving perfectly its distinct political hue. Former Republican Gov. Jim Gilmore, whose campaign is a dead one scarcely walking, can count on little but the Valley. Waynesboro, and Augusta County especially, will bleed red for him even as the remainder of the commonwealth plays the blues.
The GOP’s attentions in the Old Dominion are affixed already on next year’s gubernatorial campaign, in which Bob McDonnell and Bill Bolling form a formidable, if not unbeatable, ticket. Gilmore has managed a difficult feat for an experienced politician campaigning for high office: he is obscure, outspent by Democratic opponent Mark Warner by eight times and reduced to pedaling plans to back offshore drilling to win voters’ hearts.
Gilmore’s plight is partly circumstantial. Republicans have been ceding vital ground in Northern Virginia since the turn of the decade. President Bush won that area by a razor-thin 3 percentage points in 2000, then lost it to Democrat John Kerry four years later. Aided by Sen. George Allen’s rhetorical faux pas, Democrat Jim Webb won the other Senate seat in 2006, further indication of a shift in Virginia political tilt from right to left.
Warner’s ascent is considered an omen for Democrat Barack Obama, who won Virginia with ease in the party primary in the spring and did so by capturing a large swath of white male voters. The fresh faced senator from Illinois will need that group to best Republican John McCain in the proverbial battleground state.
Democrats and liberals – the two usually but not always are the same – would have you believe that these trends represent a localized rejection of the flagging conservative movement. This is sophistry.
Allen landed a succession of blows to his own chin and refused to relent during his losing Senate campaign. First, he used a slur in reference to a campaign tracker for Webb. Then arose allegations that he uttered racial epithets during his stay as a student at the University of Virginia. Allen denied these charges but could not deny that he had succeeded in cutting his own political legs from beneath him.
Considerably less visible in doing the same was Gilmore. He promised that upon becoming governor he would eliminate the car tax, then only partly accomplished his aim. Meanwhile, the state deficit soared to $6 billion. Warner’s succession of Gilmore was celebrated with mop and pail for use in cleaning an abundant mess.
Seeking to circumvent futility, Gilmore has hoisted banners popular among conservatives on the subjects of energy and taxes. He has called for drilling in Alaska and offshore in an effort to increase gas supply and for making permanent President Bush’s tax cuts in the trickle-down vein of Reagan.
Both positions are conservatively and logically correct. But they are insufficient to allow Gilmore to surmount his own record. Conservatism is oriented around spending restraint as a means of reducing the tax burden and expanding liberty. Extending the state $6 billion into the red sounds more like the practice of the blues.
Voters have not forgotten, which means that Gilmore might just as well forget taking up office inside the Beltway. State spending under Gilmore defied the spirit of a movement. His reward, looming relegation to the political backwoods, does not inspire applause in this corner, nor does it elicit sympathy. By adhering to principles of prudence in spending, Gilmore might well have served better both himself and the state. Instead, he is temporarily bound to remain what he is: a politician without a job.