For Obama, Survival Is the New Winning
A subtle message about things to come may have been planted in the
victory speech. The re-elected President, having proved that he can win
by brawling and not just by floating on gossamer dreams, announced a new
era of mature discipline — starting at home. Four years ago, Barack
Obama delivered hope and change to his daughters in the lovable form of a
brand-new puppy. This time around, all they got was a pat on the head.
“Sasha and Malia,” he said before an adoring — and relieved — crowd in
Chicago, “I’m so proud of you guys. But I will say that for now, one
dog’s probably enough.”
It was a fitting end to a one-dog’s-enough sort of campaign. For months, even years, the President and the challenger postured, attacked, dodged and debated. They and their supporters begged and spent crazy money — not millions, billions — yet somehow, fairly or unfairly, both candidates wound up looking a bit undersized. Obama once stirred multitudes in a football stadium against a backdrop of Greek pillars. Now he is mortal again, having earned roughly 9 million fewer votes than he won in 2008. A very crafty, very skilled mortal, politically speaking: Obama figured out how to leverage a thumping victory from relative weakness.
(Election 2012: Photos From the Finish Line)
Republican Mitt Romney, who once saved the Olympics in Salt Lake City and traded companies the way children trade Pokémon cards, worked for five years and leveraged nothing. By clawing back the GOP bastions of Indiana and North Carolina, he managed to cut Obama’s electoral-vote margin by 26 from the last time out, yet he lost one battleground after another, his campaign exhausted on such molehills as who should pay for Big Bird.
Obama became the first re-elected President in more than a century
whose share of the vote was smaller his second time around. With a
sluggish economy tugging at him like an anchor and a single-minded
opposition dedicated to drowning him, the President set his sights on
mere survival and welcomed it as his vindication. After all, in these
harrowing times of stalled economies and cultural upheaval, survival is
the new winning. Today’s answer to “How are you doing?” is “Compared
with what?” One dog, in other words, is enough.
Once billed as a decisive moment in American history, the long and sour election wound up settling very little. Leadership in Washington remained unchanged: Obama in the White House, Democrat Harry Reid in the Senate, Republican John Boehner in the House. Some $6 billion of campaign spending delivered another near tie to what has become a 50-50 America. In fact, the election results undercut one of the few points of political agreement among Americans in recent years. Most people believe that Washington is broken, or so they tell pollsters. Some blame the President and his fellow Democrats, with their vigorous agenda of deficit spending, health care for all and a green industrial policy. Some blame the nay-saying Republicans, who have resisted Obama each step of the way and were rewarded with a midterm surge in 2010. But nearly every survey found a deep desire among the public for something different from the federal government.
Come Election Day, those wishes effectively canceled each other out. Nearly 120 million voters cast their ballots, and the net effect was no change at all. America went shopping for a new car and returned home with the same coughing jalopy. You have to dig deeply into the balloting to find anyone voted off the Washington island. A paltry handful of seats switched in the House of Representatives — including, if a recount holds, the voluble Tea Party hero Allen West in Florida — while Republicans kicked away another chance to take control of the Senate by nominating extreme candidates who used their soapboxes, in a few decisive cases, to air their peculiar views on the theology and biology of sexual assault.
(PHOTOS: Last Days on the Road with Obama)
As the saying goes in Silicon Valley, this result was not a bug in the software; it was a feature of it — the unsurprising result of carefully hatched plans in Chicago and Boston. Both sides put their fingers in the political winds many months ago, decided that the public would split evenly and built their strategies around that certainty. Expecting a close election, they focused their energies on stirring up their core supporters while stinting on vision and stoking fear. They flooded the ether with negative ads and steered clear of fresh ideas as if they were cow pies. So instead of a campaign about the future of the country, it was, by mutual agreement of the political-consulting industry, a campaign about turnout in a relative handful of battleground counties.
Ultimately, Obama was buoyed by a segment of the electorate he was never supposed to win: the forgotten white men he once dismissed as “bitter” and clinging “to guns or religion or antipathy to people who are not like them.” This Rust Belt lunch-bucket brigade went for Hillary Clinton in 2008 and for Ronald Reagan a generation before that. Obama retained just enough of them in his coalition of liberals, young people, working women, African Americans and Latinos. The result was a string of wins in the industrial Midwest that slammed the door on any possible Romney strategy. For many months these voters had been fed a steady diet of well-tailored messages that boiled down to this: sharp guys wearing soft suits and perfect haircuts have been shutting your factories and offshoring your jobs for decades, and now get a load of Mitt Romney. The fact that Romney had opposed Obama’s bailout of General Motors and Chrysler — giants of an industry that employs, directly or indirectly, hundreds of thousands of workers in Ohio and nearby states — more than sealed the deal. Between Romney’s position on the government rescue of Detroit and his party’s bristling line on Latino immigration, Obama had what he needed to build his fire walls.
It was a fitting end to a one-dog’s-enough sort of campaign. For months, even years, the President and the challenger postured, attacked, dodged and debated. They and their supporters begged and spent crazy money — not millions, billions — yet somehow, fairly or unfairly, both candidates wound up looking a bit undersized. Obama once stirred multitudes in a football stadium against a backdrop of Greek pillars. Now he is mortal again, having earned roughly 9 million fewer votes than he won in 2008. A very crafty, very skilled mortal, politically speaking: Obama figured out how to leverage a thumping victory from relative weakness.
(Election 2012: Photos From the Finish Line)
Republican Mitt Romney, who once saved the Olympics in Salt Lake City and traded companies the way children trade Pokémon cards, worked for five years and leveraged nothing. By clawing back the GOP bastions of Indiana and North Carolina, he managed to cut Obama’s electoral-vote margin by 26 from the last time out, yet he lost one battleground after another, his campaign exhausted on such molehills as who should pay for Big Bird.
Once billed as a decisive moment in American history, the long and sour election wound up settling very little. Leadership in Washington remained unchanged: Obama in the White House, Democrat Harry Reid in the Senate, Republican John Boehner in the House. Some $6 billion of campaign spending delivered another near tie to what has become a 50-50 America. In fact, the election results undercut one of the few points of political agreement among Americans in recent years. Most people believe that Washington is broken, or so they tell pollsters. Some blame the President and his fellow Democrats, with their vigorous agenda of deficit spending, health care for all and a green industrial policy. Some blame the nay-saying Republicans, who have resisted Obama each step of the way and were rewarded with a midterm surge in 2010. But nearly every survey found a deep desire among the public for something different from the federal government.
Come Election Day, those wishes effectively canceled each other out. Nearly 120 million voters cast their ballots, and the net effect was no change at all. America went shopping for a new car and returned home with the same coughing jalopy. You have to dig deeply into the balloting to find anyone voted off the Washington island. A paltry handful of seats switched in the House of Representatives — including, if a recount holds, the voluble Tea Party hero Allen West in Florida — while Republicans kicked away another chance to take control of the Senate by nominating extreme candidates who used their soapboxes, in a few decisive cases, to air their peculiar views on the theology and biology of sexual assault.
(PHOTOS: Last Days on the Road with Obama)
As the saying goes in Silicon Valley, this result was not a bug in the software; it was a feature of it — the unsurprising result of carefully hatched plans in Chicago and Boston. Both sides put their fingers in the political winds many months ago, decided that the public would split evenly and built their strategies around that certainty. Expecting a close election, they focused their energies on stirring up their core supporters while stinting on vision and stoking fear. They flooded the ether with negative ads and steered clear of fresh ideas as if they were cow pies. So instead of a campaign about the future of the country, it was, by mutual agreement of the political-consulting industry, a campaign about turnout in a relative handful of battleground counties.
Ultimately, Obama was buoyed by a segment of the electorate he was never supposed to win: the forgotten white men he once dismissed as “bitter” and clinging “to guns or religion or antipathy to people who are not like them.” This Rust Belt lunch-bucket brigade went for Hillary Clinton in 2008 and for Ronald Reagan a generation before that. Obama retained just enough of them in his coalition of liberals, young people, working women, African Americans and Latinos. The result was a string of wins in the industrial Midwest that slammed the door on any possible Romney strategy. For many months these voters had been fed a steady diet of well-tailored messages that boiled down to this: sharp guys wearing soft suits and perfect haircuts have been shutting your factories and offshoring your jobs for decades, and now get a load of Mitt Romney. The fact that Romney had opposed Obama’s bailout of General Motors and Chrysler — giants of an industry that employs, directly or indirectly, hundreds of thousands of workers in Ohio and nearby states — more than sealed the deal. Between Romney’s position on the government rescue of Detroit and his party’s bristling line on Latino immigration, Obama had what he needed to build his fire walls.
The survivor took the stage well after midnight, having waited more than 90 minutes for the concession call from a stunned Romney headquarters. Four years earlier, at Grant Park in Chicago, the young Illinois Senator described his decisive win as a mandate for change — only to find that victory speeches expire in Washington quicker than the warranty on a bootleg wristwatch. Each bold step President Obama took toward his sweeping agenda brought him a little deeper into the mud, until he was swamped in the wake of the Tea Party speedboat. Four years later, the struggle was visible in each gray hair on his head.
“I know that political campaigns can sometimes seem small, even silly,” Obama said. But politics “is important,” not least in a campaign like this one. “Democracy in a nation of 300 million can be noisy and messy and complicated,” he continued. “We have our own opinions. Each of us has deeply held beliefs. And when we go through tough times, when we make big decisions as a country, it necessarily stirs passions, stirs up controversy … These arguments we have are a mark of our liberty.”
(PHOTOS: Last Days on the Road with Romney)
Two Spent Forces
Obama made no promises of bold new programs. Instead he pledged to work on cutting the deficit, overhauling the tax code and bridging the divide on immigration. Any trouble he has in claiming a larger mandate for a second term is in part because he never really sought one. It’s easy to forget that 2012 was a new experience for him, the first time Obama faced a vigorous re-election challenge — for any office. His political career until now had almost always been a one-way escalator gliding up, up, up. His swoon in the polls a month before the voting was his first encounter with the law of gravity, and he got quite close to earth before his chute opened.
If his first presidential campaign could be distilled into a single moment, it might be the day in July 2008 when he visited U.S. troops in Kuwait. The upstart rookie found himself in a gymnasium. Someone handed him a basketball. Obama was wearing a microphone and street shoes. He had not warmed up. He had no business taking a shot with cameras rolling, because the moment screamed metaphor. Undaunted, he bounced the ball, spun it between his fingers — then launched a three-pointer that carved a rainbow on its way to the pot of gold. His 53% share of the popular vote four months later was the largest any Democrat had won in more than 40 years.
This time around, Obama’s game plan involved trading elbows beneath the basket. With the public down on his signature first-term achievement — the mammoth enterprise known as Obamacare — he and his allies decided to go negative early, pouring hundreds of millions of dollars into a summertime ad blitz targeted at swing-state voters. The idea was to paint Romney in lurid colors as Scrooge McDuck minus the spats, a Bain plutocrat who swam in gold coins that he looted from once proud companies before firing their hardworking employees. The ads pounded Romney over his tax returns, teased him about his wife’s show horse and blamed him for the death of a woman whose husband once worked (but no longer did) at a company that Romney once controlled (but no longer did).
It was a page ripped from the GOP’s soiled 2004 playbook. In that year, President George W. Bush overcame his weakness in the polls by savaging his challenger, John Kerry of Massachusetts. Romney fought back with tactics similar to Obama’s, though various spending rules meant that his negative barrage started later. By the final days of campaigning, according to one analysis, nearly 90% of campaign ads in the battleground states were negative. No one was wasting money on “Morning in America” uplift. It’s not morning; many Americans are worried that it’s twilight. The irony, in such a blood-red campaign, was that the men at the top were so bloodless: the number-crunching Romney vs. the aloof and analytical Obama.
(MORE: Four More Years: Obama Wins Re-election)
The incumbent opened a lead in September, after the party conventions. Former President Bill Clinton, his reputation burnished by the passage of time and the experience of his successors, gave a bravura defense of his wife’s onetime rival. It was perhaps the first speech of the campaign with any resonance, and the last. But then Obama and Romney made their first side-by-side appearance in a debate at the University of Denver on Oct. 3. Romney did not look nearly as frightening as the President’s ads suggested. Obama, however, with his low-energy performance, appeared to be every bit the spent force that Romney’s negative script depicted. By a Gallup Poll–record 52-point margin, the viewing public crowned Romney the winner.
It turned out that Obama, in a burst of overconfidence, had canceled many of his prep sessions and somehow got it into his head that he didn’t need to engage the earnest Romney while millions watched. The biggest surprise of the night, one Democratic partisan said — this is called putting some lipstick on the pig — was not that Obama failed to hide who he was but that Romney did such a fine job of pretending to be something he wasn’t. That judgment helped explain why the post-Denver polls showed a whole new race, one suddenly too close to call. By some measures, the contest entered the final 10 days with public opinion almost exactly where it was in midsummer, an amazing thing when you think of it: all that heat and noise, and nothing happens. The country’s one clear voice in the last hours of the election was an unlikely YouTube sensation, Colorado 4-year-old Abigael Evans, who sobbed pathetically and moaned, “I’m tired of Bronco Bama and Mitt Romney.”
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