Clinton Breaks Out
The most revolutionary development in this season of discontent is that the campaign of 1992 now looks like a traditional presidential race. Led by nominee Bill Clinton, Democrats virtually levitated out of Madison Square Garden last week, full of righteousness and proclamations of unity--and miraculously ahead in the polls. But no one was taking Oval Office measurements because the traditional post-convention lift was just too unconventional. The Clinton-George Bush matchup was hatched after an extraordinary 24-hour burst of developments bound to go down in the annals of political timing: Just as Clinton began to enjoy a welcome surge, billionaire presidential prospect Ross Perot abruptly pulled himself out of the race. And in an instant, the double whammy shifted the contest from a triangle of delicate political permutations to pure hand-to-hand combat.
The showdown now focuses on Perot's political malcontents. Furious at George Bush's do-nothingism "up there in Washington" and dismissive of Clinton's integrity and ability to lead, this dispirited crowd will vacillate and no doubt choose to park in the safe middle ground of "undecided" during the next four months. Yet preconvention polls showed that the first breakaway Perotists were largely Democratic sympathizers heading home to Clinton's camp well before the desertion of their Dallas hero.
Perot's sotto voce endorsement of the "revitalized" Democrats was warmly welcomed. Clinton's aides scrambled to sign up every Perot state coordinator they could and scored a coup when New York Perot boss Matthew Lifflander told a Clinton rally: "We're here to begin a transition from being 'People for Perot' to Perot-people for Clinton." Bush hardly sat still. He beseeched Perotists for support: "Don't assume that without a protest vote, there is no vote at all." And Perot himself kept the pot boiling by refusing to rule out a re-entry into the race during an appearance on ABC-TV's "20/20" and saying that his supporters were planning a big rally in Washington on Labor Day.
Suddenly, the campaign that once wanted Perot to stay in for the long haul had a new spin: Perot's exit "makes it easier for us to get out our message of change," argued Clinton-campaign strategist James Carville. And he may be right. One private poll specifically designed to test the sentiment of Perot's backers before his withdrawal showed that 74 percent want fundamental change in the country, compared with 21 percent who want proven experience in the presidency. Clinton ran second to Perot among those seeking change. And asked to specify what change they sought, by far the largest segment said the poor state of the economy would determine their vote.
Uphill struggle. Overall, the economic-political equation is not favorable to Bush. Donald Straszheim, chief economist for Merrill Lynch, calculates that since World War II voters have not returned an incumbent president to the Oval Office unless real disposable income grew at least 3.9 percent in the four quarters preceding the election. But real disposable income over the past 12 months has edged up a measly 1.9 percent, and Straszheim expects that rate to slip lower before November. Only Jimmy Carter, who presided over falling incomes in 1980, was hamstrung by such bad economic data in an election year. "History says this is an uphill struggle for [Bush]," argues Straszheim.
Still, there was plenty of room for Democratic caution. For all the favorable omens, the traditional template of a two-way race always puts them at a serious disadvantage. Throughout much of the West, South and Southwest, the Republican electoral lock might now slam closed again. Small wonder that Carville was quick to dismiss Clinton's whopping 23-point lead in one survey as "souffle, not a poundcake."
Whatever its ingredients, Clinton's rise was boosted by his convention. The amount of prime-time exposure may have been limited by the networks, but it was enough to allow the candidate to do some things he had not accomplished in his brutal 10-month struggle for the nomination: He carefully spelled out the connection between his biography and what he wants to do as president. Before the speech, Carville says, Clinton seemed a politician "unscarred." The speech showed the bruises, and Clinton was portrayed as an American paradigm: His single mother taught him toughness, his grandfather inspired him on race, his wife taught him to care about children. "Our families have values," Clinton told his rapt audience. "Our government doesn't."
Sedate and repentant. Clinton relished the role of outsider, complaining about Washington much as Ronald Reagan had done. And his fellow Democrats willingly played along, acting as the happy participants in a generational revolution. Moderated in tone, repentant for past sins of extremism and represented by two earnest young Southerners in Clinton and Al Gore, the Democrats were more sedate, at least by their own standards. Jesse Jackson delivered a traditional politics-of-demand speech, but it provided less of a convention buzz than former Rep. Barbara Jordan's keynote address denouncing racism by both whites and blacks and calling for sacrifice--including cuts in entitlement programs. Even Jimmy Carter returned triumphant. "The complaint about me was always that I was too conservative and had betrayed the basic forces of my party," he said. "I guess I've been more or less reconstituted as a positive figure in the party."
This time, the Democrats avoided their usual kamikaze instincts. Instead, they adopted the Daniel Patrick Moynihan doctrine: "We should rise above principle," said the New York senator. "And win." And so the party put together a platform that rejected antinuclear and animal-rights sermonettes for centrist talk of jobs, investment, economic growth, individual responsibility--and the use of military force when necessary. Besides, says liberal California Democrat Don Edwards, there is time to fight over the party's course--later. "Sure, I'm concerned, they're not progressive enough," said Edwards of his party's new leadership team. "But we want to win. We'll make it more progressive--after the election."
The obvious question remained: Is this revolution for real? Or is it more like a Third World coup where a handful of colonels take over the capital radio station, but haven't yet seized control of the nation? The evidence was mixed. Both the platform and the convention still provided Bush and his GOP operatives with grist for the fall campaign. Moreover, there was little evidence that Democrats in full control of Washington would improve the performance of government. To play down that harmful image, many federal officeholders stayed in the background at the convention.
The fault lines of the upcoming race: Clinton wants a battle that centers on arguments for change; Bush wants a more conventional contest focusing on risk. Both sides will be uncompromising--and unforgiving--in a battle that will make them as nasty as they wanna be. The ground war. Strategists from both camps say it is inevitable the campaign's tone will degenerate. "This one is not going to be pretty," argues Democratic strategist Brian Lunde. "Clinton has to prove that Bush has failed; Bush has to prove Clinton is unacceptable." The Clinton strategists describe a nightmare: a newspaper headline that proclaims a candidate off course, diverted from his main job of keeping economic issues front and center by what Carville calls "rabbit traps." The Bush campaign has just such an effort planned, though the tactics they describe resemble a classic escalation strategy.
First, Clinton will be labeled a liberal masquerading as a centrist, a failed small-state governor who has inflated his mediocre record. Next, the Republicans plan to attack him on familiar tax-and-spend grounds because his economic plan calls for a tax increase--albeit only on those earning more than $200,000 a year. Bush's minions will rebuke Clinton for imposing 128 increases in taxes and fees as Arkansas governor, including a 5 percent sales tax on food. To freshen up those otherwise familiar lines of assault, the Bush camp also plans to attack the "cultural and media elite" for trying, in the words of one Bush campaign operative, "to foist a mediocre, liberal governor on the country."
If those arguments do not move voters, the next level of attack will resurrect more sensitive questions about Clinton's character--his avoidance of the military draft during the Vietnam war, his "I didn't inhale" marijuana excuse and, as a final resort, his alleged marital infidelity. Bush insiders argue that the news media have left many negative "antecedents" about Clinton in the public memory. "We can simply remind voters about what they've heard," says a key Bush adviser, "and they'll remember why they didn't trust Bill Clinton in the first place."
Clinton's rejoinder is simple, and he repeated it throughout his convention address: My record is better than adequate. The real issue, he says, is the intellectually bankrupt administration's inability to revive the economy, and his campaign will design events timed to coincide with the release of bad economic statistics. As for wedge issues like race and "family values," Clinton aides claim their man has reformulated his party's social policy enough to minimize the GOP potential to exploit it. Just two months ago, for instance, New York Gov. Mario Cuomo was denouncing Clinton-like welfare reforms; in his speech nominating Clinton, Cuomo toed the "New Covenant" line.
Perhaps even more important is the Clinton campaign's emphasis on self-defense. "This candidate is not Michael Dukakis," says Democratic strategist Bob Squier. Clinton's advisers have put together a "quick response team" to answer Republican charges as fast as they emerge. The unit will be run by top Clinton aides Betsey Wright and Carville and will include issues director Bruce Reed, aide Max Parker and teams of "surrogate" speakers throughout the nation trying to generate news on local outlets. Gore will have a special role, appearing in cities where Bush is slated to speak before and after presidential speeches to highlight the altogether too sunny aspects of Bush's pep talks.
The Clinton campaign insists it won't land the first punch. But it is trying to deter a first strike on Clinton's character by making it clear that, in the "oppo research" unit, nothing is out of bounds--even details of the business life of Bush's children, like Neil Bush's role in the failed Silverado Savings and Loan and George W. Bush's questionable financial dealings. Nevertheless, Democratic strategists expect self-proclaimed Clinton paramour Gennifer Flowers to make the rounds of television talk shows and use other forums such as Penthouse magazine to gain more publicity in the fall. Suspecting GOP involvement, Wright claims "it's an orchestrated lie." Clintonites have even hired a California attorney to find out the genesis of the Flowers story and are worried about the possibility other stories might focus on purported holes in Clinton's story about his draft status. The underground war. At a pre-convention cocktail party for members of the Democratic Leadership Council, the moderate caucus that launched the "movement" that gave Clinton a national political home, members were pinching themselves. "I remember when we used to meet in my Senate hideaway," says Florida Gov. Lawton Chiles. Now, adds Louisiana Sen. Bennett Johnston, "there is no turning back. This is not a Southern strategy. It's a centrist strategy designed to win."
But lurking beneath the Democratic claims of a unified moderate front are party divisions that can be readily exploited by the opposition. The first is that the Democratic Party has become feminized to the point where moderates fear the party's heartfelt message on "choice" threatens to obscure its key political message of economic regeneration. Throughout the week, female candidates were showcased. One of the biggest fund-raisers was hosted by Emily's List, a political-action committee devoted to candidates backing feminist issues. The gathering raised $750,000; the group itself is now the largest fund-raiser in politics, expected to raise $5 million for candidates this year. Democratic strategist Squier says he regularly now tells Democratic groups that they belong to the "National Women's Party." The reason: "Women will decide who will become the next president of the United States."
While the party platform is largely a Clinton document, it does endorse Medicaid funding of abortion, a position not endorsed by either Clinton or Gore. It also rejects laws requiring teenagers to have parental consent or judicial permission before getting abortions--a position not endorsed by a majority of Americans. Antiabortion advocate Robert Casey, the governor of Pennsylvania, was livid that he was barred from speaking at the convention. "It's hard to swallow my party muzzling me, when I'm the fifth-largest state," he protested. Party heavyweights like Sen. Bill Bradley of New Jersey agreed Casey should have been given a chance to speak.
Clearly, the challenge for Democrats is to prove that women's issues are mainstream issues. They may be. But it will be hard for Democrats to gain much male support if they adopt the sentiment of Ohio State Sen. Linda Furney, as quoted in The Getting It Gazette: "If it has tires or testicles, you're going to have trouble with it."
In other ways, politicians of widely differing stripes claimed Clinton as a soulmate--or at least openly assumed he might be swayed their way. Bush plans to exploit that contingent by arguing that Clinton is a stalking horse for liberal interests and hardly a sure bet to break the Washington logjam. Consider the chronic tensions among Democrats over business and the environment. Rep. John Dingell of Detroit, the formidable chairman of the House Energy and Commerce Committee, made it clear he views Clinton as a work in progress on environmental issues. "They need a certain amount of guidance," he says, clearly worried about Gore's environmental activism. "We're going to start talking to him about cars, trade, global warming, jobs and economic growth." The warning: "If he wants to carry the Midwest, he should be responsive"--to Dingell's constituency.
Senate Majority Leader George Mitchell describes the party's continuing problems with its agenda by telling the story of a recent meeting he held with big-city mayors: "Their demands were quite specific and quite clear. And totally contradictory. On the one hand, we were told, 'Here is our $24 billion urban aid plan. We want approval of this plan and not one penny less. No compromises.' The other demand was stated with equal force, 'We don't want gridlock and we don't want this bogged down in a dispute between the president and Congress." Mitchell's conclusion: In politics, contradictions are a way of life. The mandate muddle. The Clinton campaign prides itself on being the alternative with a plan, yet there are serious figures in the party who worry that the candidate has not yet presented a good enough case to win the election with a clear mandate that will allow him to govern effectively. "You have to define paradise before you get people to sacrifice before they get there," says Bill Bradley. "You have to describe what is the larger purpose." He contends Clinton has not yet done that. And Paul Tsongas, who now fashions himself as the party's unofficial economic conscience, says Clinton's "New Covenant" agenda still does not prepare Americans for the level of pain they must suffer in order to fix the budget deficit. "People want a sense of the direction you're moving in," he says. "Clinton still has a way to go on that."
This year, the Democrats say they believe they really can win. The party has found mainstream America again, the candidate is a fighter--and the Bush campaign remains nervous that, with Perot remaining on the ballot in many states, a protest could still be voted against the president. Even history is with the Democrats: In the 20th century, parties in office 12 years have only won again two times.
Yet if there is any predictable trend this election year, it is that voter sentiments go with the media flow. Whoever holds the spotlight on neutral or favorable terrain gains. Democrats are counting on a tough race. If this moderate ticket loses, some liberals say they will reclaim the leadership of the party. The moderates insist there is no turning back. "If we lose with this ticket," admits Louisiana Sen. John Breaux, "then something is really wrong." But the problem, he says, "would be a real rejection of our politics, not the party itself." For now, that is a possibility he would rather not consider.
Bush's economic nightmare George Bush can find little cheer in history's trend lines. Real income growth during his first three years in office hit a historic low, and anemic income growth usually spells defeat for incumbent presidents. To make matters worse for Bush, since assuming the presidency he has watched as unemployment jumped in the 10 largest electoral states (current national average: 7.8 percent) and real disposable income per capita dropped in nine of these key battlegrounds.
Real income growth during first three years of office
[First Term Second Term] Truman 3.5 pct Eisenhower 4.1 pct 2.4 pct Kennedy 4.3 pct Johnson 4.7 pct Nixon 3.6 pct Nixon/Ford 1.7 pct Carter 3.5 pct Reagan 3.5 pct 2.3 pct Bush 1.0 pct
Note: Percent change, compound annual rate Basic data: USN&WR--Merrill Lynch, WEFA Group, U.S. Depts. of Commerce and Labor
Election year economics
Election Year Pocket Book Index Election Indication Outcome
1980 -0.3 pct Challenger favored Reagan trounces _ Carter
1984 6.2 pct Incumbent favored Reagan landslide
1988 5.6 pct Incumbent favored Bush defeats Dukakis
favored
1992 2.2 pct Challenger favored Clinton beats Bush?
Note: Pocketbook Index is growth in real disposable income during the four quarters prior to presidential election. Median Pocketbook Index growth since 1948 is 3.9 percent. 1992 figure is estimate.
Basic data: USN&WR--Merrill Lynch, WEFA Group, U. S. Depts. of Commerce and Labor
State Unemployment Rate Personal Income
January 1989 June 1992 Percent change
California 5.0 pct 9.5 pct -2.2 Florida 6.0 pct 8.5 pct -2.5 Illinois 5.8 pct 8.6 pct -1.5 Michigan 7.0 pct 8.8 pct -2.7 New Jersey 3.8 pct 9.2 pct -1.4 New York 4.9 pct 9.2 pct -0.1 North Carolina 3.6 pct 6.5 pct -0.1 Ohio 5.7 pct 7.6 pct -1.6 Pennsylvania 4.3 pct 7.6 pct -0.4 Texas 7.1 pct 8.2 pct 1.4
Note: Personal income numbers are per capita, adjusted for inflation and represent first quarter 1989 to fourth quarter 1991.
Basic Data: USN&WR--Merrill-Lynch, U.S. Depts. of Commerce and Labor
This story appears in the July 27, 1992 print edition of U.S. News & World Report.