WASHINGTON (By James Carney and
Michael Scherer, Time) October 2, 2008 ― With both national and battleground
state polls showing John McCain losing ground against Barack Obama in recent
weeks, the Republican presidential nominee is getting a lot of unsolicited
advice from inside his own party. Some party professionals around the country
are publicly calling on McCain to try to change the subject from the nation's
faltering economy by becoming much more aggressive in his attacks against Obama.
Go after the Illinois senator on his ties to his controversial former pastor
Rev. Jeremiah Wright, some urge, or his associations with convicted Chicago real
estate developer Tony Rezko or former 60s radical Bill Ayers.
But even if such attacks could
potentially give McCain a brief boost, it's not at all clear that they would
help for the long haul. After all, since mid-summer, the Arizona senator has
effectively dominated the day-to-day media narrative through a series of
surprising, bold and, to some, reckless tactical moves designed to keep his
opponent on the ropes. Whether he's been depicting Barack Obama as Paris Hilton,
selecting the little known governor of Alaska as his running mate, manufacturing
the lipstick-on-a-pig contretemps, or, most recently, "suspending" his campaign
to tend to the financial crisis, McCain has consistently garnered the headlines
and forced his opponent to respond.
Each of the bold moves brought
McCain short-term political gain, throwing the often unflappable Obama off his
stride and keeping the Republican nominee very much in the presidential hunt in
a dismal year for Republicans. But the tactics also each contained the potential
for long-term political costs by distracting from, or eroding, the central
McCain message. By comparing Obama to a vacuous Hollywood starlet, McCain found
a coherent critique of Obama, but relinquished his own ability to float above
the political maw. By choosing Sarah Palin, he lit a grassfire of GOP
enthusiasm, but risked undermining his ticket's claim of greater experience and
putting "country first." By attacking Obama's "lipstick on a pig" comment, the
campaign clearly established itself as willing to engage in frivolous,
small-ball distractions, a disposition that served McCain poorly when he pivoted
and tried to portray himself as a sober statesman willing to halt his campaign
to deal with the nation's financial meltdown. Most recently, he rolled out a new
ad calling on a new spirit of bipartisanship and cooperation in the nation's
capital, only a day after blaming the House of Representatives' defeat of the
Administration's bailout bill on Democrats and Obama.
"The well of false sanctimony is
not a bottomless pit," explains one Republican consultant. "I think they have
reached the bottom of the well."
By far, McCain's boldest move was
selecting Palin, a governor with scant national experience. For a few weeks, the
gambit seemed to pay off handsomely. White woman voters overwhelmed campaign
events and boosted the ticket's poll numbers. But doubts about Palin's
qualifications and competence remained unanswered, and after a series of
stumbling television interviews, voters — and even some conservatives — have
begun to sour on her. "Everyone was high-fiving each other after they picked her
because their goal was to steal Obama's momentum for a week," says a second GOP
consultant, who also did not want to be named criticizing the campaign. "Well,
they did that. Now look what they've got."
Given the country's current harsh
view of the Bush Administration and Republicans in Congress, McCain could be
doing far worse. Counted out for much of the summer, the campaign operation,
under the leadership of Steve Schmidt, has managed to run consistently ahead of
the Republican brand. The campaign's top brass, meanwhile, remains unapologetic
about its risk-taking approach and undaunted by the odds. "We would have packed
up the tent four months ago if we didn't like daunting challenges," says Mike
Duhaime, the campaign's ground operations chief. McCain, as well, has been
unapologetic about the moves his campaign has made, often comparing himself to
his role model, Teddy Roosevelt. "I am a betting man," McCain recently told NBC
News.
But more and more of his moves
look like losing bets. Even before the first presidential debate ended, McCain's
campaign posted an attack ad online highlighting Barack Obama's repeated
admission on the shared stage that McCain was "absolutely right." On its face,
the spot seemed like damaging proof that Obama is a wishy-washy follower, not a
clear leader. But both Democratic and Republican strategists were puzzled. Why
was the campaign cutting a spot that undermined the claim that McCain invites
bipartisan agreement? Do they now suddenly scorn consensus? "They got the tactic
right, but the message was off," observes one Republican campaign consultant. An
Obama spokesman, Tommy Vietor, described the YouTube spot more succinctly. "It
helped us," he said.
The deeper problem, say growing
numbers of worried GOP establishment types, is that while lurching around to win
the daily and weekly news cycles, McCain has failed to give voters a broad,
forward-looking explanation for why they should support him. McCain's national
security experience and reputation as a reformer add substance to his theme of
"putting country first," but they don't explain what a McCain presidency would
mean, or how it would differ from the past eight years. "At no point have they
told the American people where John wants to lead them," says a third Republican
strategist. "Had they spent more time laying the predicate, they'd have
something to fall back on now."
McCain formed his unorthodox plan
for winning the White House in the dark days of mid-summer, during a time when
his campaign was defined by small crowds, logistical missteps and an inability
to break through the media's fascination with Obama. At the time, McCain's aides
openly vented their frustration, both with the political climate, which favored
Democrats, and with the media, who they believed had unjustly soured on McCain.
It was an environment that seemed tailor-made for Schmidt, McCain's new
day-to-day campaign manager, who had earned his stripes in the hardscrabble
world of the Bush-Cheney 2004 war room, fighting and winning the news cycle
battle.
The plan Schmidt developed for
McCain called for the campaign to go on offense, with sometimes shocking moves
that would begin winning weeks of news coverage. Call Obama an unprepared
celebrity. Reintroduce McCain as a maverick and a change-agent. Hit old
Republican themes on taxes and spending. Run away from the record of Republicans
in Congress and the White House. Make copious use of outrage and emotion. Rather
than a single unified message, Schmidt planned a multifaceted attack, which
would be stitched together under the banner of "Country First," a phrase that
both highlighted McCain's war hero biography and suggested Obama was a selfish,
pandering elitist.
At the same time, campaign aides
laid out benchmarks for success. "I outlined the campaign this way: We need to
be tied before the conventions; we were," says Bill McInturff, McCain's top
pollster. "We need to be ahead after our convention; we were. We need to be
roughly tied at the debates." After that, however, McInturff told his candidate,
the campaign was a "black hole."
The entire strategy rested
significantly on the McCain campaign's ability to keep disrupting the political
discussion. If people questioned Palin's credentials, attack the media. If talk
turned to the economy, attack Obama for proposing to raise some taxes. If the
news cycle slowed, release a new advertisement, more controversial than the
last.
But in mid-September, the plan was
disrupted by real world events. The financial crisis now knocking over banks and
rocking the world economy forced McCain to shift gears. His big gambit — suspend
the campaign and return to Washington — was undercut from two sides. First, upon
arriving he found he had very little power to win votes for the deal or shape
the negotiations. In fact, House Republicans voted against the initial package
he supported by a margin of 2 to 1. Second, many viewed his decision to suspend
his campaign as little more than yet another gimmick designed to grab press
attention.
Now the campaign is trying to
regain its footing once again. The first part of the "black hole" that McInturff
predicted has turned out to contain—at least initially—a nosedive in the polls
for McCain. He now trails in several swing states where he led after his
convention, and has relinquished some gains he had made with independents and
women voters. Like so many times before, McCain finds himself in a crisis
situation, facing an uphill battle for the prize he has always sought. This is
his political comfort zone. The betting money says he will make a bold move, and
hope it doesn't backfire.