My colleague, Professor Schaff, posts an epitaph on the candidacy of Fred Thompson. I have a lot of sympathy with this argument: that Thompson failed because he was too decent and honorable for the job.
Our system instead rewards constant posturing and pandering. While incessantly demanding politicians who are not driven by polls, we damn to oblivion any politician who does not slavishly follow the demands of the moment, not to mention looking to the polls to help us decide for whom we should vote.
Thompson failed because he refused to give into this. But to leave it at that strikes me as very unfortunate. It leaves nothing but the view that, if you want to be President, you have to play the sort of game that the Clintons are adept at. Perhaps that is true. But we certainly cannot conclude that it is true from Thompson's campaign, and the fact that he left us with that impression is not our fault; it is Fred's fault.
Thompson played the game of coyness all too well. He waited very long to publicly decide if he was in or out, and even once he was in he seemed a bit half hearted about it. This reticence, amounting almost to lethargy, was in no way required by decency or honor. Perhaps we the people are too corrupt to elect someone "is just too normal to be elected president."
He didn't like asking people he didn't know for thousands of dollars. He was more interested in policy than being clever. He didn't make promises he couldn't keep and didn't see every moment as yet another opportunity for self-aggrandizement. He spoke at length about the long term problems of the nation rather than in sound bites about petty issues brought forth only because the focus group said they'd help gain votes.
On the other hand, the Oval Office is, arguably, the most prestigious prize offered anywhere on the globe, and perhaps anywhere yet. It is not too much to ask of a candidate that he or she really wants it and is willing to work very hard (if not necessarily like a devil) to get it. That is so with most any public honor.
I remember listening to Charlton Heston as he told about spending the eve of the 1984 election flying around with Ronald Reagan. On pins and needles, Heston was shocked when Reagan coolly rolled out the election map and showed him the two electoral units (Minnesota and D.C.) that Mondale was going to carry. Heston told the story to explain why he himself never ran for office. Reagan loved it. He loved the whole business of campaigning, organizing, giving wonderful speeches designed to knit together diverse coalitions of voters. It was, of course, an easier thing to love for so successful a politician as Reagan. Heston had wisdom enough to know that he did not have that same longing for office.
Thompson apparently had neither the one actor's passion nor the other's prudence. He presented himself, genuinely, as the kind of candidate Professor Schaff admires, and I share that admiration. But by doing so in the lackluster way he did, he reinforced the impression that such admirable qualities are doomed to failure in elections. I find nothing admirable about that.
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