In conservative political folklore, the 1964 election was a crushing defeat that laid the philosophical groundwork that ultimately led to Ronald Reagan’s triumph.
No one likes to talk as proudly about 1968’s razor-thin election of Richard Nixon. It’s much more sanitary to take Sen. Barry Goldwater and skip straight to Reagan. But ’68 was at least as important as ’64, and maybe more so; it was that campaign that yielded the potent Southern strategy; the counter-counterculture; the full-throated resentment toward coastal elites. If ’64 was aimed at the conservative mind, ’68 was aimed at the conservative viscera.
The late Gov. George Romney, of course, was a minor figure in the drama of ’68. A moderate Rockefeller Republican, he would lose soundly to Nixon, the former vice president and California senator.
With all this in mind, I looked up one of my favorite modern political histories, Garry Wills’s Nixon Agonistes: The Crisis of the Self-Made Man.
Here’s what Wills had to say about that era’s candidate Romney:
Romney built up a belief in his “nonpolitical” background: here was a man (men thought) who worked his way up in the business world and then—sincere novice amid deal-fettered pros—entered politics with the innocence of an outsider. The truth is that Romney began his career in politics, after three unsuccessful attempts (at three different schools) to get a college education. He went to Washington, in pursuit of his childhood sweetheart, the intense Lenore, and got a job as an aide to Senator David Walsh of Massachusetts. He did work on tariff bills that equipped him for a new career—a lobbyist for Alcoa, he spent nine years as a Washington glad-hander around Burning Tree Country Club and the National Press Club. Then he became an automobile lobbyist (on the carmakers’ Trade Advisory Commission), dealing with the National Recovery Administration. From this post he rose to become manager of the AMA (American Manufacturers Association)—an office that made him, in wartime, managing director of the Automotive Council for War Production. He had now spent nineteen years fronting for big business among politicians.
Hmph. This sounds vaguely familiar, doesn’t it? To be fair, former Gov. Mitt Romney succeeded in business before failing at politics, and he never was a lobbyist. But there’s still the same “pious baloney” about a private-sector white knight riding in to save government.
Yet here are a couple of key differences between Romney pere and fils. According to Wills, George Romney wasn’t known for smarts: “Robert McNamara, who urged Romney to get into politics when they were both auto men around Detroit, later came to know him better: Romney’s trouble, he concluded, is that the man ‘has no brains.’ ”
Even more interesting, there’s this. Romney’s presidential ambitions were significantly thwarted by his change of heart over the Vietnam War. He’d gone from supporting it as “morally right and necessary” to calling for peace “at an early time.” He compared a briefing he’d received in November 1965 to “brainwashing.”
This was no convenient flip-flop, however. Wills notes:
His greatest gift had been mesmeric power to convince others because he so convinced himself. The blue eyes burn toward you under that low white cap of hair; the block of athletic face is rigid with fresh seizures of sincerity. He has a fanatic’s belief in everything he says or does, and a prophet’s fierce anger if anyone questions him. A desire to keep his burning conviction unsullied by earthly ties explains his later aloofness from politics and politicians. … He went down, thrashing ridiculously, in 1968; yet he maintained to the end that it was a public service for him to call his briefing a case of successful brainwashing.
In this, the son is strikingly unlike the father. It’s clear that, whatever else Mitt Romney gleaned from the experience of ’68, he learned about the sometimes necessary art of insincerity. Everything about Mitt’s political career to this point suggests that he’s not content to go down in honorable defeat, as Goldwater did. He will not be undone by “seizures of sincerity” or a “prophet’s anger.” He is smarter, more devious, and more contemptuous than his father.
If he could speak to his father on the other side, he might say, “You tried your way, Dad. Now I’m trying mine. This is how a Rockefeller Republican overcomes the ‘muttonheads’ who fell for Goldwater and Nixon.”
By: Scott Galupo, U. S. News and World Report, January 31, 2012
February 1, 2012
Posted by raemd95 |
Election 2012, GOP Presidential Candidates | Barry Goldwater, Conservatives, George Romney, GOP, Mitt Romney, Politics, Republicans, Rockefeller Republican |
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The Republican primary campaign has highlighted the barely concealed contempt in which Mitt Romney holds the electorate, especially the Republican electorate. One adviser has expressed his astonishment that GOP voters fall for clowns like Herman Cain and Newt Gingrich:
“They like preachers,” the adviser said of the tea party demographic. “If you take them to a tent meeting, they’ll get whipped into a frenzy. That’s how people like Herman Cain and Newt Gingrich get women to fall into bed with them.”
That is an insult putatively directed at Romney’s rivals, but which reflects heavily on the voters themselves. Another fresh insult comes today, by way of John Dickerson, who reports that Gingrich’s assault on Juan Williams worked because “‘Williams was a stand-in for Barack Obama in people’s minds,’ said one Romney adviser.”
Gee, whatever could Williams and Obama have in common? Can this be interpreted as meaning anything other than that South Carolina Republicans are a pack of racist buffoons?
Romney’s disdain for the electorate is one of his more deeply rooted traits. During his father’s 1968 presidential campaign, Romney wrote, “how can the American public like such muttonheads?”
I find that contempt pretty well-founded, and it is a relief that Romney does not believe the nonsense he spouts during the campaign. But the persistent awkwardness of Romney’s campaign style reflects this basic tension. It’s easy to try to persuade somebody for whom you have basic respect. It’s persuading somebody whom you consider stupid — while you must conceal any trace of your disdain — that’s excruciatingly difficult. Romney’s awkward manner on the trail is the agony of suppressed contempt.
By: Jonathan Chait, Daily Intel, February 1, 2012
February 1, 2012
Posted by raemd95 |
Election 2012 | Electorate, GOP, Mitt Romney, Newt Gingrich, Politics, Republicans, Teaparty, Voters |
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