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Jewish World Review August 31, 2000 / 30 Menachem-Av, 5760
Philip Terzian
In the annals of journalistic condescension, Lippmann's initial judgment of his fellow
Harvard graduate has an honored place. And, of course, as Lippmann himself would
later concede, initial judgments are often deceptive. Still, it is difficult to look at FDR
at age 50 (as he was that year) and not draw some comparable conclusions. He had
entered politics more or less as a lark, and his principal assets were wealth, great
personal charm and his surname, which he shared with a popular ex-president.
When he ran for president in 1932, he had been a sub-cabinet officer, an
unsuccessful candidate for the U.S. Senate and vice president, and governor of New
York for three years.
Some promise, perhaps, but not a lot of substance. And that is how Roosevelt
pursued the presidency. Chosen by the Democrats in Chicago, he broke precedent
by flying in an airplane to accept his nomination, in person, at the convention: a
theatrical gesture with no particular significance. He criss-crossed the country
vowing to restore "confidence" in Depression-ridden America, and balance the
federal budget. A paraplegic, he was always photographed upright and smiling, or
waving gaily from the back seat of a touring car. He was, as we might lament today,
notably short on specifics, except to say that "these unhappy times call for plans . .
. that build from the bottom up and not from the top down, that put their faith once
more in the forgotten man." What those "plans" might be nobody knew, least of all
FDR himself.
I was reminded of all this while reading a hostile review in The New York Times of
David Gergen's new memoir, .Eyewitness to Power. Mr. Gergen, the famous
publicist, is an easy person to dislike: He has been employed by a wide variety of
presidents, from Nixon to Ford to Reagan to Clinton, largely with an eye to serving
David Gergen. But it is Mr. Gergen's specialty, the modern practice of political PR,
which sets the Times reviewer's teeth on edge: "[He] is one of the people," she
declares, "who helped create this sorry state of affairs . . . helping to orchestrate the
aura of the great and the powerful." His success, she argues, "underscores the
pragmatic -- some would say mercenary -- ethos of a political era that increasingly
values expertise over conviction, style over substance."
Even Gergen, in his characteristic way, agrees with his critic: The 1980 presidential
campaign, he writes, "was the last truly good one the country has had because all
three candidates . . . provided clear choices for the electorate. They said exactly
what courses they intended to pursue if elected, didn't blur the differences, held
down the mudslinging, and didn't sell their souls to their pollsters and handlers."
This is what might be called the Golden Age theory of politics, which holds that, up
until recently, American presidential elections were fought by honorable men of deep
experience, taking unpopular stands on pertinent issues. To which one can only
say: Dream on.
As early as 1828, voters were encouraged to choose between "John Quincy Adams,
who can write/And Andrew Jackson, who can fight." You don't have to be too old to
remember that 1980 election, when opponents of Ronald Reagan never stopped
talking about his background as a movie actor, deploying the artificial techniques of
the silver screen to seduce the electorate. Candidates who found themselves in
Harry Truman's crosshairs would be amused to learn that "mudslinging" is a recent
invention. John Kennedy ran in 1960 on the principle of getting the country "moving
again" -- supply your own definition -- and scoring points on a nonexistent "missile
gap." And as any presidential biographer will tell you, handlers have been part of the
process since the days of Jackson (Amos Kendall), William McKinley (Mark
Hanna), FDR (Louis Howe) and Truman (Clark Clifford). What we now take to be the
aura of greatness surrounding these statesmen seemed like politics to their
contemporaries.
Which is to say that this year's contest is in the great tradition. At the moment, it is
George W. Bush -- the two-term governor of America's second largest state -- who is
suffering from the media accusation that he is an amiable man who, without any
important qualifications for the office, would very much like to be president. But that
could change, as the campaign progresses. For as we know from history, it is not
"specifics" that win elections, or the promise of a discount at the drug store, but
consistent themes and perceptions of character -- even style, which did Franklin
Roosevelt no
08/28/00: Blame communism, not Russia
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