Double Down: Game Change 2012

by John Heilemann

  Let’s leave that one off the list, guys, Gillespie interposed. We don’t want to turn this into a racial thing.

  On a certain level, there was nothing especially controversial about the Gillespie-Romney analysis. Sitting presidents of both parties had used the power of incumbency to sweeten the deal for key constituencies since the dawn of the republic. But in Mitt’s clumsy hands, the interpretation was a loaded gun aimed at his own foot.

  A few days later, on a November 14 conference call with dozens of top donors, Romney offered his take on how Obama had defeated him: “What the president’s campaign did was focus on certain members of his base coalition, give them extraordinary financial gifts from the government, and then work very aggressively to turn them out to vote.” Rattling off some examples of the benefits to which he was referring, he kept invoking the word “gift.” Listening in on the call, Ron Kaufman thought, Fuck, this is not good.

  Of course, Mitt believed he was speaking confidentially, in a private call, with contributors. Of course, that was foolish—especially for a man who already had been incinerated by a secret video from a donor dinner. Of course, there were journalists listening in on the call, and “gifts” made headlines within hours.

  Even after the election was over, the most gaffe-prone nominee in anyone’s memory was still coughing up verbal miscues. In offering an explanation for his failure, he explained more than he knew.

  • • •

  OBAMA LAUGHED WHEN HE heard that Romney had described him as Santa Claus in chief, doling out presents to the freeloaders gathered around the White House Christmas tree. “He must have really meant that 47 percent thing,” the president remarked to his aides.

  Obama and his people weren’t surprised that Boston was still reeling. On election night, when Mitt called the president to concede, he had congratulated Obama for his side’s turnout efforts—specifically expressing his own team’s astonishment at the numbers in Cleveland and Milwaukee, where African American participation was off the charts. When Obama related Romney’s comment to Axelrod, Messina, and Plouffe, they all had the same bemused reaction. What Boston was saying, in effect, was, Holy cow, where did all these mysterious minorities come from?

  Heading into the race, the perception among political professionals and the press had been that the rival campaign squadrons were more or less evenly matched. But as the smoke cleared, a consensus quickly emerged that the Democrats had methodically been building an atomic clock while the Republicans were trifling with Tinkertoys. Chicago’s mockery of Boston was hushed but withering.

  The president himself devoted little time to pawing over the entrails of the election. Four years earlier, the moment his epically antagonistic fight with Hillary Clinton ended, any rancor on Obama’s part toward her had fallen away. The same happened with regard to Romney.

  On the very day that Mitt offered up his theory of electoral dispensations, Obama held a press conference in the East Room of the White House. In his speech on election night, the president had indicated that he intended to sit down with Romney to “talk about where we can work together to move this country forward.” Asked about that proposition now, Obama averred that he was serious and offered praise for the man he and his team had spent the past year dismembering.

  “I do think he did a terrific job running the Olympics,” Obama said. “That skill set of trying to figure out how do we make something work better applies to the federal government . . . He presented some ideas during the course of the campaign that I actually agree with. And so it’d be interesting to talk to him about something like that. There may be ideas that he has with respect to jobs and growth that can help middle-class families that I want to hear.”

  For Obama, the 2012 election had been harder and uglier than 2008 but also more gratifying. Four years earlier, he had ignited something in the electorate. But he also had been a mere vessel: an antidote to the eight-year reign of George W. Bush and a symbol of racial progress. In 2008, Obama told his advisers, people were betting on hope. In 2012, they were rendering a judgment on his record and leadership. The substantive stakes of the race were huge; if Obama had lost, much of what he had accomplished, starting with health care reform, would have been reversed by Romney and the GOP Congress. But the personal stakes were equally vast. More than he let on, Obama felt the mantle of history heavy on his shoulders, and he had a writer’s understanding of the provisional nature of narrative. Had he fallen short in his quest for reelection, his story would have changed overnight, with his presidency recast from a heroic landmark to a failed, one-term accident. In victory, he secured his legacy as a transformative figure—and won the chance to become a great president.

  During the campaign, Obama often argued that, with such a clear philosophical and ideological choice before the voters, reelection would give him a mandate, and the upper hand with the GOP. “My hope is that if the American people send a message to [Republicans],” he told Rolling Stone, “there’s going to be some self-reflection going on—that it might break the fever. They might say to themselves, ‘You know what, we’ve lost our way here. We need to refocus on trying to get things done for the American people.’”

  But the weeks and months after Election Day demonstrated that he had been whistling in the dark. On issue after issue, from the budget to climate change to immigration, Republicans remained as intransigent as ever, and Obama remained . . . Obama. In the cauldron of his debates with Romney, the president had been forced to perform against his nature. But his core predilection to play by his own rules emerged undisturbed. The same flaws and foibles that had bedeviled his first term continued to plague his second—and threatened to haunt him to the end. In terms of Obama’s ability to govern, the 2012 election did nothing to change the game.

  Among Democrats, however, no one doubted the election’s long-range political meaning. In consolidating the coalition of the ascendant, Obama had created a template on which his party might build for years to come. With 2016 already looming, the question was who might inherit the Obama base, the Obama machine, the Obama imprimatur.

  One obvious possibility was his vice president, whose flirtation with 2016 grew increasingly overt. On Election Day, Biden was asked whether this would be the last time he voted for himself. “No, I don’t think so,” he replied. That night and over the next two days, he worked his way down a list of Democrats on the 2012 ballot, placing personal phone calls to them all. He courted prominent party leaders from Iowa and other early states. In media interviews, he touted the tightness of his relationship with Obama. (“We’re totally simpatico,” he pronounced.) And he reveled in high-profile assignments from the president: managing negotiations with the GOP over the fiscal cliff at year’s end and heading up the administration’s gun-control task force after the horrific school massacre in Newtown, Connecticut.

  Then there was Hillary Clinton. Four years earlier, Obama had defied all expectations—and the advice of his own people—by bringing Clinton onto his team. The alliance seemed tenuous and fraught, but it had worked out better than anyone save Obama himself ever expected; he and his former rival proved effective partners. Now, at the close of 2012, with Hillary ready to depart her perch at the State Department, Obama’s relationship with the Clintons had reached a new and unforeseen phase. On election night, the instant that Obama hung up with Romney, he turned to Messina and said, “Get Bill on the phone.” Amazingly, The One and the Big Dog had become something like friends.

  In the weeks that followed, Obama provided the tea-leaf readers with much to study. A round of golf with 42 at Andrews saw 44 skipping out early on the back nine to maintain a one-stroke lead—that was how Clinton told it, anyway, with a big smile on his face. Next came a joint 60 Minutes interview with Hillary, in which Obama praised her lavishly, calling her “one of the finest secretary of states we’ve had.” Once upon a time, not all that long ago, the Obamas and the Clintons had been the Montagues and the Capulets. Now, more and more, it seemed as if the four
most popular political figures in the country—Barack and Michelle, Hillary and Bill—were part of the same powerful family.

  No president in memory had cared less about party succession than Obama. The idea that he would place a thumb on the scale if both Clinton and Biden sought their party’s 2016 nomination was inconceivable. Yet for the two likely Democratic front-runners in the campaign to come, 44 would be ever present. They would seek to replicate his team’s skills at raising money and moving votes. They would woo his rising coalition. They would pray that he delivered them a robust economy. They would strive to defend his record, which they had helped to forge. Neither Hillary nor Joe was really the gambling type. But for good or ill, if they sought the Oval Office, they would have no choice but to double down on Barack Obama.

  Michelle and Barack Obama. The first lady, hugely popular with the American public, was a formidable force inside the White House and out on the campaign trail.

  Photography by Christopher Anderson

  Mitt and Ann Romney. Famously devoted to his wife of four decades, Mitt felt most comfortable and confident when Ann was at his side, prompting his team to adjust her campaign schedule accordingly.

  Jon Huntsman, with his wife, Mary Kaye and daughters, Liddy (left) and Abby (right). The former Utah governor and Obama’s ambassador to China entered the race with loads of promise, but his campaign collapsed in a mass of contradictions and confusion.

  Newt and Callista Gingrich. The former House speaker and 1990s GOP icon, mellowed by marriage to Callista, was unnerved by Romney’s massive money machine and reverted to his prickly, irrepressible disposition in the face of the onslaught.

  Michele Bachmann. The congresswoman from Minnesota dazzled in early debates but saw her efforts crumble when Rick Perry joined the race.

  Rick Santorum. Operating on a shoestring budget, the former senator from Pennsylvania enjoyed a sudden burst of momentum and press attention that led to a surprise victory in the Iowa caucuses.

  Herman Cain. With his charming affect and zingy 9-9-9 tax slogan, the former Godfather’s Pizza CEO had a brief run at first place in the polls but was brought down by scandal.

  Rick Perry. As a presidential contender, the handsome Texas governor seemed to have it all—until he declared his candidacy and stepped onto the debate stage.

  Chris Christie. The New Jersey governor was nicknamed “Big Boy” by George W. Bush— reflecting his outsize personality, physicality, and political potential. Christie considered his own 2012 presidential bid before endorsing Romney.

  Paul Ryan. Mitt Romney tapped the young Wisconsin congressman as his running mate for his keen intelligence, Capitol Hill experience, and ability to energize conservative voters.

  Mitt Romney. Romney began preparing for his October debates against Obama in June—and the hard work paid off with a game-changing performance in Denver.

  Joe Biden. Vice President Biden cultivated a warm personal rapport with Obama but still had to fight for a bigger role in the campaign.

  Barack Obama and Bill Clinton. Overcoming the mutual rancor of the 2008 campaign, the Big Dog made a strong case for Obama’s reelection on the stage at the Democratic National Convention in Charlotte.

  Mitt Romney. The Republican nominee had high hopes for his convention in Tampa, until it was rocked by a hurricane, speechwriting bedlam, and Clint Eastwood’s unexpected Dadaistic presentation.

  Barack Obama. At an election-eve rally in Des Moines, Iowa, an emotional Obama returned to the state that launched his 2008 campaign.

  Mitt Romney. After decades of personal and professional success, Romney believed it was his patriotic duty to run for president. Up until the final hours of Election Day, he thought he would pull off a win.

  Barack Obama. Obama considered his reelection victory in 2012 a far more satisfying and significant achievement than his win in 2008.

  AUTHORS’ NOTE

  This book is a sequel to Game Change, our account of the 2008 presidential election, in all the obvious ways, but also in its animating impulses, objectives, and techniques. Once again, the campaign we set out to chronicle had been covered with great intensity across a multiplying array of platforms. Once again, we were convinced that many of the stories behind the headlines had not been told. Once again, we have tried to render the narrative with an unrelenting focus on the candidates and those closest to them—with an eye toward the high human drama behind the curtain, and with accuracy, fairness, and empathy always foremost among our aims.

  The vast bulk of the material in the preceding pages was derived from more than five hundred full-length interviews with more than four hundred individuals conducted between the summers of 2010 and 2013. Almost all of the interviews took place in person, in sessions that often stretched over several hours. (Beyond these marathon sittings, there were countless telephone and e-mail conversations to follow up and check facts.) Many sources also provided us with e-mails, memos, notes, journal entries, audio and video recordings, and other forms of documentation. Only a handful of people declined our requests to participate.

  All of our interviews for the book—from those with junior staffers to those with the candidates themselves—were done on a “deep background” basis. We took great care with our subjects to be explicit about what this term of art meant for this project: that we were free to use the information they provided (once we had determined its veracity) but that we would not identify them as sources in any way. In an ideal world, granting such anonymity would be unnecessary; in the world we actually inhabit, we believe it is essential to elicit the level of candor on which a book of this sort depends.

  Inevitably, we were called on to compare and reconcile differing accounts of the same events. But we were struck by how few fundamental disputes we encountered in our reporting. In almost every scene in the book, we have included only material about which disagreements among the players were either nonexistent or trivial. Regarding the few exceptions, we brought to bear deliberate professional consideration and judgment.

  In reconstructing scenes and conveying the perspectives of the participants, we relied exclusively on parties who were directly involved or on those to whom they spoke contemporaneously. Where dialogue is within quotation marks, it comes from the speaker, someone who was present and heard the remark, notes, transcripts, or recordings. The absence of quotation marks around dialogue indicates that it is paraphrased—meaning that our sources were in agreement about the nature, texture, and substance of the statement, but there were minor divergences regarding precise wording. Where thoughts or feelings are placed in italics, they come from the person identified or others to whom she or he expressed her or his state of mind.

  The interviews for Double Down were all governed by a strict embargo, meaning that we agreed to use the information we obtained only after Election Day and only in the book. In a few instances—including, notably, the episode described in Chapter 3 revolving around Obama’s list, in which we were the book authors to whom the items on the list were disclosed, shortly after the president shared the contents with his team—our reporting efforts became part of an unfolding story. But that in no way affected our commitment to the embargo. At the same time, our reporting and writing here was grounded in our daily and weekly coverage of the campaign for our respective magazines; a number of passages in the book are drawn from that work.

  —Mark Halperin and John Heilemann

  September 2013

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A project of this size and duration leaves its perpetrators feeling a little like a tin-pot Greek bank, its balance sheet littered with more towering debts than could ever be repaid in this life or the next.

  Our first and most titanic IOU is to our sources, who spent endless hours with us in person and on the phone. We thank them immensely for their generosity, trust, and patience. Big ups also to their assistants, who facilitated many of the interviews.

  We are grateful to our incomparable literary agent, Andrew Wylie, who a
lways knows when to hold ’em and doesn’t really comprehend the concept of folding ’em. His team at The Wylie Agency fielded our requests with speed and a smile. In a previous life, Scott Moyers was part of that team. It was kismet and our great good fortune that, just after we signed on at The Penguin Press, Scott became the imprint’s (and therefore our) publisher.

  Ann Godoff, our editor, has earned a reputation as the best in the business: savvy, eagle-eyed, tough-minded yet nurturing, committed above all and before everything to the quality of the words on the page. And, whaddya know, it’s true! We were blessed to have her and all the other tremendously talented Penguiners—including Elisabeth Calamari, Tracy Locke, Will Palmer, Lindsay Whalen, and Veronica Windholz—on our side from start to finish.

  Special thanks as well to Chris Anderson, whose genius with a camera is evident in the book’s photo insert; to Jane Rosenthal, for a timely homestretch maneuver on our behalf; and to Elizabeth Wilner of Kantar Media’s Campaign Media Analysis Group.

  Many of our journalistic colleagues produced terrific coverage of the campaign and its dramatis personae. We benefited in particular from Dan Balz’s book Collision 2012: Obama vs. Romney and the Future of Elections in America; Politico’s series of election e-books, The Right Fights Back, Inside the Circus, Obama’s Last Stand, and The End of the Line; Jay Root’s e-book Oops!, on Rick Perry; Bob Woodward’s The Price of Politics, on the debt-ceiling drama of 2011; Ariel Levy’s “The Good Wife,” on Newt and Callista Gingrich, from the January 23, 2012, issue of The New Yorker; Robert Draper’s “Building a Better Mitt Romney-Bot,” from the November 30, 2011, issue of The New York Times Magazine; and Benjamin Wallace-Wells’s “George Romney for President, 1968,” from the May 28, 2012, issue of New York magazine. More generally, we gleaned much from the reporting and analysis of Mike Allen, Matt Bai, David Chalian, David Corn, John Dickerson, Joshua Green, Maggie Haberman, John Harris, Vanessa Hope, Jason Horowitz, Al Hunt, Gwen Ifill, Jodi Kantor, Joe Klein, David Maraniss, Jonathan Martin, Adam Nagourney, Jim Rutenberg, Roger Simon, Ben Smith, Glenn Thrush, Jim VandeHei, Judy Woodruff, and Jeff Zeleny.