If Romney’s problem were the health care law, per se, then I’d attempt to answer this question directly. But I don’t think it is. His problem is that too many Republicans primary voters neither like nor trust him.
The list of his flip-flops is well-known. In his ’94 Senate bid, he said he would be more pro-gay rights than Teddy Kennedy. At various junctures over the course of the next decade, he took mildly progressive positions on immigration, abortion, guns and most prominently, health care.
It is one thing to flip-flop on an issue, and then apologize unequivocally for it. Before his implosion, Edwards did it effectively on Iraq (the “I Was Wrong” Washington Post op-ed), and Pawlenty is following a similar model on climate change.
It is quite another thing to flip-flop on nearly every major social issue of concern to primary voters, and then a) claim that you have been consistent, and b) have the audacity to attack your primary opponents on said issues, as Romney did throughout ’08 – earning special enmity from his competitors in the process.
The sad thing (for him, not for the country) is that the economic collapse beginning in late ’07 and climaxing in late ’08 had voters thirsting for a capable steward of the economy — exactly his profile had he simply been true to himself and not taken the cultural red meat detour. That has to gnaw at him.
The New New Romney might actually be the Real Romney. But it’s too late now, because he does not have a health care problem. He has a credibility problem. That’s why — even though his argument for health care federalism actually makes some sense – most people will merely see it another episode in a long series of flip-flops and pandering.
Last night, the RP Family grew by one early yesterday evening, in the name of Charlie Wallace Smith, the first child of contributing RP Jeff Smith.
We here at The Recovering Politician heartily welcome Charlie to the world and hope that he inherits his father’s writing abilities and sense of humor, and his mother’s looks and height. At 8 pounds, 5 ounces, he’s well on his way to the latter.
When LBJ was a young legislator burning with ambition, the famed Georgia powerhouse Richard Russell cautioned him not to lose his Southern accent as he maneuvered on Capitol Hill. The accent, counseled Russell, helped ensure that the Yankee liberals would underestimate him. During my first year in the Missouri Senate, I was a stereotypical urban liberal who got hoodwinked just that way by more than a few canny country boys.
So: do I think Rick Perry is as smart as LBJ? Of course not. But I think he probably has some similar qualities. Intelligence isn’t just about who can mark up a bill at a granular level, although that’s a great quality for a legislator to possess. Rather, the ability, on any given issue, to understand the critical leverage points with another legislator or interest group or agency is the most important trait for those seeking to obtain, accumulate, and wield power. And my gut is that Perry has plenty of that wiliness.
Does that mean he’d be a good president? No. Does it offset what appears to be a rather parochial world-view? Definitely not. But the fact is that unlike GWB, Perry didn’t have an instant leg up over his opponents in all his races. He’s skilled at reading people, polls, and situations and should not, as the longtime observer notes in Jonathan Martin’s piece this morning, be underestimated.
Last weekend, on my last day in St. Louis before moving to NYC, I co-hosted a free 3-on-3 basketball tournament and community fair in North St. Louis. The event is in its sixth year; I started it during my first state Senate campaign in 2006, and it eventually attracted several thousand people each year. Dozens of businesses sponsor the event, which features a traveling health clinic, free school supplies, and brand-new bicycles and iPods for the winning teams in each age group.
North St. Louis is struggling. It’s about 95% black, and unemployment among men in their 20s approaches 50% in many neighborhoods. Parts of it resemble the Detroit that you see on the news or the Baltimore on The Wire, but people forget that families live there. It’s a community fighting to regain its lost glory – ironically, the days of segregation, when black doctors, lawyers, teachers, principals, and morticians lived among the laborers and housekeepers, in larger homes but in close proximity.
The first couple years of the tournament, people weren’t sure about me. Who is this white guy coming up in our neighborhood? Just another politician sniffing around for votes, making more promises? Using us for a photo-op? Well, he can dribble…but we’ve been fooled before. Remember that Schoemehl boy, when he first ran for Mayor…then turned around and closed City Hospital?
The next few years, people began to see that my commitment was genuine. As the group of city charter schools I’d co-founded a decade earlier grew to 3000 students, people noted my involvement. Others saw the legislative work I did on behalf of incarcerated fathers struggling to pay child support.
By Jonathan Miller, on Mon Aug 1, 2011 at 12:00 PM ET
Thanks to the magic of Skype, RPTV introduces a new feature today, “The RP’s Great Debates.”
Our very first installment features a debate between two former Missouri state legislators, from opposite sides of the political spectrum, who somehow found a way to become good friends: contributing RPs Jeff Smith and Rod Jetton. In this interview, Smith and Jetton discuss their relationship, debate the debt ceiling crisis, and — best of all — do pretty accurate and very funny impressions of each other.
If you are new to The Recovering Politician, you probably should read the following pieces by the two men:
Rod Jetton’s 3 part stunningly candid essay on his rise, scandal and renewal: Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3.
The Missouri Senate – not the U.S. Senate – former U.S. Senator Jim Talent once told me, is the greatest deliberative body in the country today. Because any senator has the right to speak for as long as he chooses on any matter, each senator, even a freshman in the minority, can wield power if he plays the game well.
But I didn’t understand how to wield power when I got there. I would soon learn, though, from veterans like Senators Victor Callahan and Jason Crowell, and House Speaker Rod Jetton.
When I came to the Senate, I aspired to be the young, liberal wunderkind that many journalists and activists had anointed me. In taking the unprecedented step of blocking a gubernatorial appointment before being sworn in, I sought to carve out an image for myself as a strong progressive, unafraid to stand up to the state’s most powerful Republican, Governor Matt Blunt. However, as I soon realized, the very image that helped me in my district was crippling me in the Senate.
My colleagues defeated nearly every proposal I offered during my first session, often with undisguised delight. I suffered so many defeats my first year – on amendments to restore funding cut from children’s health care, to enact an earned income tax credit for the working poor, to reveal an abstinence-only sex ed bill – that none really stood out.
All that stood out was a feeling of losing.
I hated losing, because I was very competitive. But I also saw the poverty and violence up close night in, night out, at neighborhood meetings and anti-gang marches, and that increased my sense of urgency.
I’d been in a hurry my whole life. But never did I feel such a sense of urgency as I did near the end of my first legislative session when I realized that as one of 34 senators able to change the state’s direction, I’d accomplished next to nothing. It was time to learn how to win.
******
To win – and to do so consistently – I knew that you needed to be either feared or loved. Respect wasn’t enough.
Term limits meant that no one was around long enough to be truly loved, and only a few were feared. I knew I wasn’t. For starters, I was too nice and I didn’t like pissing people off. Those who were feared didn’t care who they pissed off.
Second, I lacked institutional knowledge, both on policy or procedure. Without deep understanding of an issue and a firm grasp of Senate rules, it was hard to be feared on the Senate floor, where the action went down. Also, we (Democrats) were outnumbered 23-11, which didn’t help inspire fear. But after observing how Senator Crowell used the filibuster to great effect, I vowed that I would influence a policy debate in the same way sometime soon – and ironically, I got my first chance on one of Crowell’s own bills.
Crowell was best friends with House Speaker Rod Jetton, and was the Senate handler for the sole bill Jetton filed in 2007 – a bill to eliminate state taxation on all Social Security benefits reached the Senate. There was no coordinated Democratic strategy for dealing with the bill, so I asked the Minority Leader where she was on the bill, which was the centerpiece of the House Republicans’ agenda for the session. “Whose bill is it?” she sniffed.
“It’s Speaker Jetton’s.”
“Then Ah’m aginzit.”
Read the rest of… Jeff Smith: Rod Jetton & Our Unlikely Friendship
Sadly, with Boehner impotent in the face of the tea party-dominated caucus, there are now two camps of leading Washington Republicans. One camp – the cold-eyed power-seekers represented by Cantor in the House and McConnell in the Senate – wants the country to default because it will destabilize the markets, hurt the economy, and thus hurt Obama’s chances of re-election. That’s sad.
The other camp – the Norquist-led “starve the beast” types – wants the country to default because it will prevent the country from borrowing for any purpose, and begin accomplishing their overarching goal of totally discrediting government. That’s nuts.
Where is today’s Bob Dole, the heartland conservative respected by both sides and willing to stand up to his party’s right wing in the name of statesmanship? His name is Rob Portman, and he’s AWOL.
[Presidential candidate Mitt Romney’s fundraising underperformance] means a few things.
1) A lot of donors who supported Romney last time are jumping ship or dodging him.
2) As the heir to “establishment” frontrunner status, Romney should’ve been able to cultivate most of the 2008 McCain donors. That hasn’t happened.
3) Given how much Perry raised within Texas alone for a gubernatorial race, and given the oil industry’s success amid the national recession, there will be ample money for him to compete on a national stage.
4) The sheer number of people who continue to give money to Ron Paul, when they presumably have children who ask for toys, puppies, and other things, is mind-boggling.
Last Friday, in my role as a contributor to Politico’s “Arena”, I responded to a question about the presidential candidacy of guitar-playing, wise-cracking Michigan Congressman Thaddeus McCotter. Was there room for him in the Republican field?
Sure, I replied. He can join Newt Gingrich in filling the comic relief void. He starts out, I noted dryly, with national name ID approximating that of my dad.
Several people told me they found my remarks amusing. But as I had the chance to reflect over the weekend, I realized that – with all due respect to Mark Halperin – I was being a dick.
I disagree with most of what Thaddeus McCotter – who calls himself a true constitutional conservative – espouses, but people shouldn’t mock passionate, sincere candidates just because they are longshots. And of all people, I definitely shouldn’t mock them.
***
When I decided to run for Congress in 2004, I was a nobody: a 29 year-old adjunct lecturing at a local university while trying to complete my Ph.D. I had no money, no political base and no name; my staff was a ragtag crew of students. The leading candidate was Russ Carnahan, scion of Missouri’s most powerful political dynasty: the “Kennedys of Missouri.” Russ’s dad was a two-term Governor and his mom a U.S. Senator; my dad had been a golf coach, a sportswriter, a pool hustler, and adverstising copywriter, and my mom counseled children with special needs. Ten candidates filed; Carnahan led the field by 40 points.
I set two benchmarks for myself, one concrete, the other less so. The real benchmark was that I vowed to raise $100K in my first quarter, somehow.
The second benchmark was somewhat less scientific. One evening after teaching, I went across the street from campus and canvassed a neighborhood to see if people would take me seriously as a congressional candidate, or if they thought I looked too young (I was a boyish 29, 5’6” and 120 pounds soaking wet). I knocked on about 40 doors.
The first door was answered by a thirty-something woman who immediately after my introduction asked me point-blank if I was pro-choice. “Absolutely,” I said. She said she’d vote for me as long as I didn’t waver on that issue. I thought to myself, OK, there’s one vote, at least I won’t get shut out.
A few doors later an older man asked me if I supported stem-cell research. “Absolutely,” I said, and he said he was a genomic researcher and would back me as long as I supported the right to unfettered scientific research. Two for two. I can do this.
A few minutes later, a middle-aged woman opened her door, and I introduced myself. “Hi, my name’s Jeff Smith, and I’m planning to run for Congress next year, but just wanted to come by today and see if you have any questions for me.”
She looked at me quizzically. “Where are you coming from?”
“Uh, well, from campus, actually.”
“Oh, yes, you must want to see Janie. Hold on one second.” She called up the stairs, “Janie, come on downstairs, there’s a young man here who wants to talk to you, he’s running for Student Congress.”
“Tell him I’m busy, Mom,” came the disembodied voice of a college girl.
I was too embarrassed to explain myself. I said goodbye, walked back to campus, and started thinking of how I could raise $100K in 3 months, which I did, barely.
***
No, I'm Thaddeus!
Thaddeus McCotter knows exactly what I realized back in 2003: Primaries are about finding niches. And the terrain he encounters is not unlike the one I faced nearly a decade ago: a crowded field, but one in which he can identify possible niches to fill.
I knew there would be at least seven candidates (ultimately there were ten), and with each candidate to enter, the race became that much more attractive to more candidates, given the declining percentage needed to win. I spent weeks looking at numbers, analyzing different combinations, figuring out if there was enough space for me to fill. I estimated that with seven candidates, one could win with just 28-29% of the vote, and that the entrance of another candidate or two could reduce that number to 23-24%. For me, every decline in this number made the race more appealing, because the fewer votes needed to win, the more important each vote became. And the increased importance of each vote magnified the influence of a grassroots campaign relative to a money-and-media-driven campaign.
In his latest entry for Politico’s Arena, contributing RP Jeff Smith answers the question as to whether President Obama’s support among the Jewish community is slipping:
It will probably depend on the alternative.
If, say, Huntsman is nominated and runs on a secular domestic platform that includes a strong pro-Israel plank, he could garner 35 percent or more of the Jewish vote.
If, on the other hand, Republicans choose a bombastic conservative like Rick Perry – someone with a history of appointing creationist state school board candidates and pushing other reactionary social causes – then Republican Jewish support will remain around 20 percent. A far-right evangelical Christian like Perry with a social agenda that is anathema to Jews will only attract those Jews who are already part of the Republican base.
On a side note, the choice of Debbie Wasserman-Schultz as DNC chair should help prevent some defections.
If Romney’s problem were the health care law, per se, then I’d attempt to answer this question directly. But I don’t think it is. His problem is that too many Republicans primary voters neither like nor trust him.
It is quite another thing to flip-flop on nearly every major social issue of concern to primary voters, and then a) claim that you have been consistent, and b) have the audacity to attack your primary opponents on said issues, as Romney did throughout ’08 – earning special enmity from his competitors in the process.
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