McCain's Sour Grapes

by John M. Curtis
(310) 204-8700

Copyright March 12, 2000
All Rights Reserved.

am no longer an active candidate for my party’s nomination for president," said despondent Sen. John McCain in a tersely worded statement to the press. Poof! In a flash, it was all over. Making an abrupt about-face, McCain decided to cut and run from further humiliation on March 14th, when voters in Texas, Florida and elsewhere pound the final nails into his moribund candidacy. For all the nostalgia about McCain’s rebellious message, why don’t most people get it? Canceling all remaining campaign appearances, McCain certainly got the message. Why haven’t the press and his supporters? The fat lady’s sung her last tune. With both insurgents Bradley and McCain flushed out of campaign 2000, the electorate has spoken loud and clear: Contrary to prevailing wisdom, they’re not interested in insurgent candidates. Why should they be? Aside from Clinton’s big disgrace, the ruling party hasn’t done too badly. Yes, the electorate was given a choice. But, no, they weren’t swallowing McCain or Bradley’s rebellious message.

       While the press wanted some excitement and media darlings, they’re having the hardest time letting go. Bradley’s campaign fizzled—among other things—because his soporific personality couldn’t carry his lofty message. At the other extreme, McCain’s invectives against the status quo played well with the media but fell on deaf ears with mainstream voters. In fact, rank-and-file Republicans were flat-out turned off. Leaping to the conclusion that disenfranchised conservatives and independents won’t return to the mainstream in November makes about as much sense as the radical left jumping to the Moral Majority. Beaten fair and square, McCain showed sour grapes by not releasing his delegates. Holding on and playing power broker only exacerbates negative feelings and causes more divisiveness. Suggesting that he’s a loyal Republican belies the message of still brokering his fallen agenda.

       Attracting insurgents from various persuasions, McCain—like Perot in 1992—appealed to disgruntled independents and Democrats, disgusted with business as usual within conventional parties. Stunned by his sudden departure, McCain backers find themselves like rebels without a cause. While McCain’s moved on, his supporters are still mired in the denial of defeat. Their mouthpiece now silenced, they’re having difficulty accepting that their feisty hero was beaten at his own game. Attacking Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson backfired in a big way. Not, as some would have you believe, because they were beyond reproach, but precisely because it made the maverick McCain look like a run-of-the-mill politician. "I will not take the low road to the highest office in the land," tooted a high-minded McCain after losing South Carolina. What happened to that rhetoric?

       Sounding a bit disingenuous, "I hoped our campaign would be a force for change in the Republican Party, and I believe we have indeed set a course that will ultimately prevail in making our party as big as the country we serve," remarked McCain after foreclosing the possibility of bolting the party and launching an independent bid. But winning only 30% of Republican voters hardly supports his contention of reforming the Republican party. Blowing more smoke than a Texas barbecue, McCain characterized status quo Republicans as right-wing Christian zealots, whose values were out of step with mainstream America. Following this twisted logic, the party’s frontrunner—George W. Bush—must also represent the reactionary right wing. Clever as the strategy was to impeach Bush’s credibility, it belied McCain’s desperate attempt to salvage his sinking ship heading into South Carolina. Going negative, attacking Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell and labeling Bush a 'right-wing Catholic bigot' went over the top and cost McCain the race.

       Like his clever but misleading political advertising, McCain convinced the liberal press that George W. Bush represented the extreme right wing fringe of his party. Comparing him to Barry Goldwater, whose failed campaign against Lyndon Johnson in 1964 divided the Republican Party, stretches the truth beyond the breaking point. Torturing the electability argument, McCain helped his cause but misled the party. Bush is no a Barry Goldwater. His long track-record of moderate and centrist Republicanism stems from his family history and performance as Governor of Texas. And McCain has no monopoly on independent and crossover voters, as some would have you believe. His appeal in the primaries to these groups reflects the fact that underdog, insurgent campaigns attract nonaligned voters. When voters are forced to choose in November between Al Gore and George W. Bush, neither candidate will have any distinct advantage at winning independents and crossover voters. In fact, with the choices so stark, most voters tend to follow party lines but tilt in the direction of more charismatic candidates.

       With Patrick J. Buchanan’s Reform Party nod lurking in the background, both George W. Bush and Al Gore will seem hopelessly mainstream and utterly conventional. When Buchanan dishes up the populist, right-wing rhetoric, voters will flock to Bush and Gore like pepperoni pizza. With the economy still stuck in overdrive, most voters won’t be flocking to another independent or Reform Party savior like they did Ross Perot in1992. All the worry today about who’s going to salvage McCain’s independents won’t be too much concern come November. Neither Bush nor Gore has the magnetic crossover appeal as the popular ex-president whose Alzheimer’s disease leaves him oblivious to the current round of political bickering. When voters set foot in the voting booth next November, no one will wonder what happened to McCain or Bradley’s 'loyal' supporters. Like momentum stocks on Wall Street, they’ll cast their votes where it gives them the most mileage.

About the Author

John M. Curtis is editor of OnlineColumnist.com and columnist for The Los Angeles Daily Journal. He’s director of a Los Angeles think tank specializing in human behavior, health care, political research and media consultation. He’s the author of Dodging The Bullet and Operation Charisma.


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