McCain stirs spirit of ‘96

John McCain, like Bob Dole before him, is a Republican senator seeking to win the presidency in spite of himself. While cable hacks such as Chris Matthews, Wolf Blitzer and Keith Olbermann sway in their seats on the verge of schoolgirl swoons over Democratic demigod Barack Obama, McCain dithers in search of the man beneath the POW’s veneer. America admired Dole the warrior, but did not fancy him the leader of the free world, and so the Clinton era extended, and now the country advances to the precipice of Obama’s as summer’s end looms.
Facing a candidate whose star status is meteoric and needing to demonstrate distinctions between himself and his opponent, McCain reminds us of the former, a move that would be considered shrewd were it only carried out by Obama. A 30-second McCain ad airing in 11 swing states includes flashes of Paris Hilton and Brittany Spears, whom Obama’s legions of young followers might say are so yesterday, then proclaims of the junior senator: “He is the biggest celebrity in the world. But is he ready to lead?”
But is McCain?
That question is spurred by an embarrassingly shallow television message, which wastes voters’ time and McCain donors’ money, and a campaign that over summer’s crucial months has played the tortoise to Obama’s hare. Slow and steady is not winning this race, nor should McCain expect as much. Momentum matters in politics, and McCain is generating none.
He pledges he will not raise taxes, and Obama will. Good. But McCain pledges all is negotiable on the subject of Social Security, which Democrats take to mean raising payroll taxes. Well, what now? He calls House Speaker Nancy Pelosi an inspiration. Nine in 10 Americans call her something else; President Bush’s anemic 27 percent approval rating is three times higher than Pelosi’s. McCain calls Al Gore’s plan to switch to renewable energy in 10 years “doable.” Many scientists call it laughable.
So his campaign points us to a distinction, the most vivid we’ve seen so far. Obama is a national and global celebrity, and McCain is not. That might get out the vote, but for whom?
Perhaps, McCain should consider a more formidable Obama foe than himself, the one who awakened late to the reality of Obama’s palpable celebrity appeal and then nearly toppled him. Hillary Clinton recognized opportunity when an unbridled Obama dismissed a wide swath of the politically treasured working class as people who “cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people who aren’t like them ... as a way to explain their frustration.” Hillary swilled shots and beers, embraced gun-toting and religious folk and swept to victory in Pennsylvania.
While Obama’s views largely parallel Hillary’s, she painted contrasts that ran deeper than pant suits. Her greatest success perhaps exhibited no more substance than McCain’s televised allusions to fading celebrities, but it was eminently more palatable: Hillary was perceived as a fighter. That image was carefully and smartly cultivated by staffers cognizant of its uniquely American appeal.
Now, as if the effort is needed, Obama combats a challenger whose image is steadily growing as that of a warrior whose fighting spirit has waned. The echoes of 1996 are resounding. So too might be Obama’s victory in November if McCain does not soon stir from his campaign deathbed.