John Kerry, the Democratic Party’s not-so-happy
warrior, is breaking with tradition this week and
making at least one campaign appearance while the
Republicans dominate the news with their nominating
convention (a real cliffhanger). I applaud this
aggressiveness, because Kerry could use every day he’s got left until the
election. On the other hand, now would be the time to
pause and wonder what has gone wrong and what can be
done about it. Kerry could start by clearing his throat.
At the moment, the Democratic nominee seems to
be speaking from under water, making glub-glub sounds as
he tries to explain his original vote in support of the Iraq
war resolution, his subsequent vote against funding the war,
and his conduct in Vietnam many years ago and what he
said afterward. The man carries a heavy burden — a long
and complicated public record that can be mined for
negative nuggets. It does not help any that as a public speaker he
is no public speaker.
It just so happens that a man has appeared among
us here in New York City who can show Kerry what to
do. Senator John McCain has been the toast of the town
this week, his birthday (68) being celebrated like the 12
nights of Christmas. On Sunday, though, McCain was all
business when he appeared on Face the
Nation and was asked whether Kerry’s recent dip in the polls was attributable to
those wretched TV ads attacking his war record. McCain did
not launch into praise of George Bush as almost any other
politician would have done but instead ripped the muggy
air with candor: “I can think of no other reason,” he said.
Maybe you heard the thunder.
The irrepressible blurting out of the obvious, a
McCain trait for many years, not only stood in marked contrast
to what I had been watching before he came on — George
Pataki and Rudy Giuliani in full insincerity about the marvels
of the Bush presidency — but to politicians in general.
It is a magical thing McCain does: Tell the truth, tell it simply,
and get on with life. The formula is so obvious you’d think
more politicians would adopt it, if only because it works.
Bluntness is, bluntly speaking, what Kerry could use in abundance.
At the moment, the issue is Kerry’s Vietnam service.
He was first attacked for being a hot dog and a phony who
did not really earn his medals. George Bush himself has
now sort of put that matter to rest by conceding that Kerry is
a hero — although apparently not enough of one for Bush
to denounce the swift-boat ads. Now, new ads attack Kerry
for what he said after returning from Vietnam and becoming
a leader of the antiwar movement.
This is a moment for Kerry to speak plainly, embrace
all Vietnam veterans, and say that any suggestion that they
were war criminals does not represent how he feels now and
how he felt then — and if he gave the opposite impression,
he’s sorry. If it takes an apology — if it takes saying he was
once an angry young man who saw blood spilled in a
dubious cause — then that’s what he should say. Kerry’s inability
or refusal to return to the origin of his problems — a
wrong vote on Iraq and some incautious words on Vietnam —
has trapped him in a kind of rhetorical molasses. He’s
always trimming weeds that need to be yanked out by the roots.
Either by happenstance or design, I’ve been with
John McCain for three nights in a row and have watched the
magic he works on people. At a dinner one evening, someone
asked the secret of his appeal. A colleague and I looked at
each other in disbelief. It’s his honesty, his willingness to
(mostly) say what’s on his mind. He just clears his throat and
says what has to be said. John Kerry ought to try it. It
could make him president.
Richard Cohen writes for The Washington Post
and the Washington Post Writers group.
