Project President

by Ben Shapiro

  We’ll take Ike to Washington.

  Ike himself constantly invoked his service during World War II. In an October 1952 speech, Eisenhower indicted Truman’s Korea policy:

  I know something of this totalitarian mind. Through the years of World War II, I carried a heavy burden of decision in the free world’s crusade against the tyranny then threatening us all. Month after month, year after year, I had to search out and to weigh the strengths and weaknesses of an enemy driven by the lust to rule the great globe itself.World War II should have taught us all one lesson. The lesson is this:To vacillate, to hesitate—to appease even by merely betraying unsteady purpose—is to feed a dictator’s appetite for conquest and to invite war itself.78

  Stevenson, meanwhile, attempted a daring if misguided strategy: he attacked Eisenhower for his military background. One of his ads featured a woman standing before a piano, singing a song to the tune of “O Christmas Tree.” The lyrics laud Stevenson, of course—but they attack Eisenhower for being militaristic. “A soldier-man is always bound / to think in terms of battleground,” the singer warns. Then, striving desperately for a rhyme, the singer assures the audience that Stevenson is a “man-you-can-believe-in-son,” a “civilian-son” who will not quit until “peace is won.”

  Unfortunately for Stevenson, Eisenhower was virtually impregnable on this score. Stevenson was forced to hearken back to Republican policies of 1931—a sure losing issue in an election where the Republicans ran Ike, a man Barry Goldwater later called “a dime store New Dealer.”79

  Eisenhower trampled Stevenson in 1952, and then did the same in 1956.

  But Eisenhower was unique. Eisenhower was the last of the great generals; he was the last candidate for whom military service connoted leadership on a grand scale. In the post-Eisenhower era, military service connotes personal bravery, not leadership ability. And personal bravery as a political quality is often less valuable than leadership capability.

  Certain candidates, however, still used military service successfully in their battle for the presidency. John F. Kennedy’s military heroism demonstrated both physical strength and mental toughness. Kennedy famously served on PT-109, a swift boat in the Pacific. When a Japanese ship rammed his boat in the Solomon Islands, it sank; Kennedy and his crew swam to a tiny island. Kennedy dragged a wounded comrade during the swim, clenching a strap of the man’s life jacket in his teeth. Eventually, his crew was rescued.80 The New Yorker printed the story, and then in 1944 it appeared in Reader’s Digest; the ensuing hubbub made JFK a national figure.81

  During the 1960 presidential campaign, JFK brilliantly exploited the PT-109 episode. The television show Navy Log chronicled JFK’s heroism during his run for the Democratic nomination.82 JFK’s family sold PT-109 insignia emblems for less than a dollar a piece. JFK utilized a letter from FDR’s son that ripped Democratic rival Hubert Humphrey for not serving during World War II.83 He used the PT-109 incident to deflect questions about his Addison’s Disease; he blamed his back pain on war wounds.84 He used PT-109 to deflect questions about his religious convictions—who would challenge the patriotism of a man who had risked all for his country?85 Kennedy even ran television ads touting PT-109.86

  But JFK was too smart to admit using PT 109 for political gain. When the media asked JFK how he had become a war hero, Kennedy wryly remarked, “It was absolutely involuntary. They sank my boat.”87 Kennedy’s boat sinking—that was certainly involuntary. The part about becoming a war hero—that was strictly orchestrated.

  THE VALUE OF MILITARY SERVICE has dramatically declined in the post-Kennedy era. Though Johnson, Nixon, Ford, Carter, and Reagan served, their service had little impact on their respective elections. But it was the election of 1992 that clearly demonstrated how little military service has come to mean. Incumbent president George H. W. Bush ran against Arkansas governor Bill Clinton. H.W. Bush was a World War II hero; Clinton gamed the draft system in order to avoid serving in Vietnam.

  The Bush campaign made hay out of Clinton’s Vietnam malfeasance. They pounded Clinton on the question of trust. Could a man who had avoided the draft and refused to come clean about his draft avoidance be trusted to run the country?

  But the Bush campaign didn’t stay on message.While attacking Clinton on his trustworthiness, they also attacked his antiwar views—a foolish tactic with regard to a historically unpopular war. Bush campaign advisor Charles Black went after Clinton directly:

  We believe Bill Clinton is a patriotic American, but we question his values [in] going to demonstrate against his country. Listen, Governor Clinton had received, that very same year, a draft induction notice. Now, most Americans, when they receive a draft induction notice, report for duty. Governor Clinton, instead, pulled strings to avoid the draft notice and went to England to demonstrate against his country’s policies, when his colleagues—people his age—were dying in Vietnam. It’s bad judgment.88

  Bush echoed Black’s message during the first debate: “I just find it impossible to understand how an American can demonstrate against his own country in a foreign land—organizing demonstrations against it when young men are held prisoner in Hanoi or kids out of the ghetto were drafted.”89

  Those comments created a tremendous backlash. Democratic National Committee chairman Ronald Brown called the comments “despicable.” Two-thirds of respondents to a Newsweek poll said that the comments were “unfair.”90

  So during the third presidential debate, Bush morphed his message to focus more narrowly on Clinton’s trust issues. Bush reiterated that he had “expressed my heartfelt difference with Governor Clinton on organizing demonstrations while in a foreign land against your country, when young ghetto kids have been drafted and are dying.” But Bush also explained that he was not questioning Clinton’s antiwar activity, only his prevarication: “On April 17 [Clinton] said he’d bring out all the records on the draft. They have not been forthcoming. He got a deferment or he didn’t. He got a notice or he didn’t. And I think it’s this pattern that troubles me, more than the draft. A lot of decent, honorable people felt as he did on the draft. But it’s this pattern.”91

  Vice President Dan Quayle joined Bush in attacking Clinton. “The American people are beginning to see that Gov. Clinton lacks the integrity to be President of the United States,” he stated. “He hasn’t told the truth about avoiding military service. At first he said he didn’t get a draft notice. Then it turns out that he did . . . That’s my big difference with him on the draft. It wasn’t failing to serve.”92

  Meanwhile, Clinton played the victim. “Here we are, on our way to a debate about the great issues facing this country and its future—and he descended to that level?” Clinton plaintively queried.93 He dismissed Bush with a sigh: “I felt really sad for Mr. Bush.”94 And during the third debate, he compared himself to Lincoln: “I was opposed to the war. I couldn’t help that. I felt very strongly about it, and I didn’t want to go at the time. It’s easy to say in retrospect I would have done something differently. President Lincoln opposed the war [presumably the Mexican War] and there were people who said maybe he shouldn’t be president, but I think he made us a pretty good president in wartime.”95

  In the end, the draft issue did little damage to Clinton. It made it easier for him to pillory Bush as a mean-spirited attack dog; it made it easier for him to portray himself as a beleaguered man of principle. Clinton never posed as a military man—there was nothing there for the Bush campaign to debunk. His untruths about his Vietnam activity could have colored the public’s perception of him; instead, the Bush campaign conflated his dishonesty with his antiwar activity, mooting both issues.

  On Election Day, the alleged draft dodger defeated the war hero.

  CLINTON NEVER CAMPAIGNED on the basis of his military service, so his opponents could never effectively attack his antiwar stance or draft manipulation. The same was not true of John Kerry during the 2004 election. Kerry based every facet of his campaign on his military service. Kerry had served on
a swift boat—a la JFK, which was no coincidence—during the Vietnam War, and he had served heroically, receiving the Silver Star, the Bronze Star, and three Purple Hearts.

  And he never let anyone forget it.

  Subtlety was not Kerry’s strong suit. Throughout the campaign, Kerry repeatedly hearkened back to his days on the swift boat, bringing his Vietnam buddies along on campaign stops, invoking his service continuously, annoying friends and foes alike. In what possibly constitutes the most egregious use of military imagery in campaign history, Kerry accepted his nomination for president by saluting, then infamously uttering the words that would damn him to a lifetime of mockery: “I’m John Kerry, and I’m reporting for duty.”96

  Sadly enough, the acceptance clunker was right in character. Kerry’s obsession with touting his Vietnam service spawned a vast ocean of jokes. Conan O’Brien gibed, “Last night during the Democratic presidential debate, Howard Dean started off by apologizing to the crowd for having a cold. Then John Kerry apologized for once having a cold while serving his country in Vietnam.”97

  “As I’m sure you know, the White House begun [sic] airing their TV commercials to reelect the president and the John Kerry campaign is condemning his use of 9/11 in the ads,” cracked Jay Leno. “He said, it is unconscionable to use the tragic memory of a war in order to get elected, unless of course, it’s the Vietnam War.”98 Leno again: “I learned a piece of trivia about John Kerry at the convention: Did you know he was in Vietnam? Apparently, he was a soldier there.”99

  As with most presidential candidates who campaign on the basis of military service, Kerry’s military record became a sticking point during the campaign. After returning from Vietnam, Kerry testified before Congress. He blasted the troops, stating that they had “raped, cut off ears, cut off heads, taped wires from portable telephones to human genitals and turned up the power, cut off limbs, blown up bodies, randomly shot at civilians, razed villages in fashion reminiscent of Genghis Khan, shot cattle and dogs for fun, poisoned food stocks, and generally ravaged the countryside of South Vietnam in addition to the normal ravage of war, and the normal and very particular ravaging which is done by the applied bombing power of this country.” These war crimes, he said, were “not isolated incidents but crimes committed on a day-to-day basis with the full awareness of officers at all levels of command.” Kerry’s antiwar activism was uncompromising. He threw his ribbons (but not his medals) over the White House fence. He attended antiwar rallies with Jane Fonda.

  None of this sat well with many Vietnam veterans, who thought it a tad disconcerting that Kerry was now campaigning on the basis of his bravery in a war he helped undermine. A group known as the Swift Boat Veterans for Truth, composed of Vietnam vets including some who served with Kerry, called Kerry’s military heroism into question. They published a book entitled Unfit for Command, in which they claimed that Kerry lobbied for his Purple Hearts despite the fact that he had incurred only minor wounds, two of them self-inflicted; served a mere four months, as opposed to the usual year tour; and lied to receive his Silver Star and Bronze Star. They ripped what they saw as Kerry’s post-tour political opportunism and treachery. The Swift Boat Vets ran television ads containing the same information.

  The emergence of the Swift Boat Vets immediately sparked controversy and severely damaged Kerry’s credibility, particularly in the aftermath of Kerry’s tall tale about a secret trip to Cambodia during his tour of duty in Vietnam. On eight separate occasions in the Senate and to the media, Kerry explained that he had secretly and illegally been sent to Cambodia during Christmas of 1968. This turned out to be a blatant falsehood.100

  During the course of the campaign, Kerry’s military record became a detriment rather than an asset. He couldn’t campaign as a strong military supporter—his Winter Soldier testimony excluded that possibility. He couldn’t campaign on his courage under fire—the Swift Boat Vets undermined his claims, and his own Cambodia story undermined his credibility. David Letterman aptly summed up the situation: “Have you folks been following the controversy with John Kerry and his service in Vietnam and the Swift Boat campaign? It all took place in Vietnam, and now it just won’t go away. I was thinking about this—if John Kerry had just ducked the war like everybody else, he wouldn’t have this trouble.”101

  DURING THE CIVIL WAR, the Union faced an existential threat. Existential threats always increase the demand for men of military stature, and the situation in 1863 was no exception. Union General Joseph Hooker stated that he felt both the army and the government required a dictator.When Lincoln appointed Hooker the new commander of the Army of the Potomac, he cautioned Hooker about his comments: “Of course, it was not for this, but in spite of it, that I have given you the command . . . Only those generals who gain successes, can set up dictators.What I now ask of you is military success, and I will risk the dictatorship.”102

  America no longer has to risk dictatorships. The political value of military service has declined dramatically since George Washington wore his uniform into the national spotlight. Service is rarely seen as a dramatic reflection of leadership ability. Service is not considered an exclusive means of proving loyalty. Service can reflect bravery under fire, but that’s about the extent of it.

  As America has grown in strength and power, military service has become less and less important in presidential contests; it is certainly no longer the important qualifier it was in the aftermath of the Civil War.

  This would have pleased the founders. “I must study politics and war that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy,” wrote John Adams. “My sons ought to study mathematics and philosophy, geography, natural history, naval architecture, navigation, commerce, and agriculture in order to give their children a right to study paintings, poetry, music, architecture, statuary, tapestry, and porcelain.”103 American leaders will always have to study politics and war, but America is not under the constant existential threat the founders faced. Countries in chaos often turn to great military figures; America is no longer in chaos. It makes perfect sense that as American security grows, a president’s military record becomes less important than his philosophic and political positions.

  4

  Old School vs. New School

  RONALD REAGAN TURNED SIXTY-NINE on February 6, 1980. If Reagan won the Republican nomination, his birthday would make him the oldest major party nominee in the history of the United States. It was a fact the media would not let him forget. Haynes Johnson of the Washington Post criticized Reagan’s television appearance as well as his supposed touch of senility:

  Television, the instrument that catapulted Reagan into national political prominence years ago, is unkind to him today . . . in that pitiless eye of the TV camera closeups his age shows through—the lines around his eyes, the jowls, the so-called “turkey” neck of those approaching their 70s . . . There’s a certain hesitancy, a stumble here and there, that one doesn’t recall from other Reagan campaigns. He blows his lines now and then, says boycott when he means blockade, mentions turning over surplus funds to his gubernatorial predecessor instead of successor, refers to dismounting from an aircraft instead of disembarking, and displays at times an embarrassing unawareness of events.1

  Newsweek seconded the motion, clucking, “Reagan and his staff still must reckon with the fact that he is no longer a young man. His continuing need for sufficient rest poses ticklish problems for aides trying to schedule his time during the twelve days he plans to spend in New Hampshire over the next three weeks . . . too many appearances might overtax the candidate; as one Reagan staffer has admitted: ‘A tired Ronald Reagan is a bad Ronald Reagan.’ ”2

  Reagan had never shied away from the age issue. After Reagan announced his candidacy for the 1980 presidency, Jack Kemp called Reagan “the oldest and the wisest candidate.” Reagan latched on to the nickname, and for a time the media used the designation, shortening it to the “the O and the W.”3 Reagan also used a series of witty responses when asked about h
is age. After watching himself in Knute Rockne—All-American (1948), Reagan quipped, “It’s like seeing a younger son I never knew I had.” He labeled himself middle-aged, explaining, “Middle age is when you’re faced with two temptations and you choose the one that will get you home at 9:30.”4

  But Reagan had never faced the age issue head-on, either. When asked about his age, Reagan was fond of replying, “It’s better than the alternative.”5 It wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement of his physical and mental capabilities.

  On February 6, 1980, Reagan turned the campaign around. He did it with flair, panache . . . and birthday cake.

  Reagan celebrated his birthday repeatedly. The weekend before his birthday, he held a bash in Los Angeles which became a “Happy Birthday, Ronnie” party.6 On February 6, Reagan held a birthday party in South Carolina, where he promptly fell into a giant birthday cake, emerging “with icing all over his coat.”7 That night he held another birthday party for 225 supporters and 50 media members in New Hampshire. During the party, Reagan blew out three candles on his birthday cake. Each candle, said Reagan, represented a decade, since he was celebrating “the 30th anniversary of my 39th birthday.”8 In embracing his birthday, Reagan became a graceful model of aging.

  But Reagan still had to prove that his age didn’t hamper his faculties. As Roger Ailes, Reagan’s 1984 campaign manager, put it, “People want to see a communicator have a range of emotions . . . There was some talk even then that he was too old to really hold down the job, that his mind wasn’t sharp enough, and so on. Even his enemies said, ‘You know, he’s a nice fellow.’Tip O’Neill said, ‘I like him.’ But nobody really felt that he had a range of emotions.”9 Reagan’s amiability left many with the impression that he was simply too old to be strong.

  Reagan got the opportunity to prove them wrong during a February 23 Republican primary debate in New Hampshire. The Nashua Telegraph originally offered to sponsor a debate between Reagan and Bush. The other Republican candidates—Bob Dole, Howard Baker, John Anderson, and Phil Crane—cried foul, stating that excluding them from the debate was legally similar to a campaign donation to Bush and Reagan. The Federal Elections Commission agreed.