Post by MO on Sept 18, 2003 2:16:57 GMT -5
Political Virility
Real men vote Republican.
BY JAY NORDLINGER
Wednesday, September 17, 2003 12:01 a.m. EDT
Many years ago Chris Matthews--now famous on TV--hit on an interesting formulation: He said the Democrats were the "mommy party" and the Republicans the "daddy party." That is, the Democrats were "nurturers," concerned with health policy and day care. The Republicans were "protectors," taking care of national security and other manly matters. This notion is obviously galling to some. But Mr. Matthews was on to something, and we now find ourselves in a "daddy party" time.
Republicans have seldom shied from an embrace of manliness. The New York Times recently ran a report on the new Bush re-election headquarters. It explained that the offices display two large photos: one of President Bush "sweating and looking rugged in a T-shirt and cowboy hat"; another of Ronald Reagan "also looking rugged in a cowboy hat." And all this was before Arnold Schwarzenegger decided to run for governor of California. Yup, that's the Republican Party.
Of course, George W. Bush is famous for his "compassionate conservatism." He is capable of great tenderness of expression, much of it related, no doubt, to his triumph over alcohol and his religious awakening. But Bush as hombre has been the dominant theme of his post-September 11 presidency.
Rich Lowry, editor of National Review, likes to tell a story about Mr. Bush out in Iowa, early in the 2000 presidential campaign. A group of Hell's Angels rode into town, and Gov. Bush simply waded into them, hugging them, bonding with them, relishing them. Not every American politician could manage this, without affectation. Mr. Bush was also, in that campaign, known to have a much better time with the rough 'n' ready cameramen in the back of the plane than with the (much more effete) reporters who also accompanied him.
His ranch in Crawford says a lot, too. President Clinton enjoyed swilling with the swells on Martha's Vineyard (except for 1996, when a poll instructed him to go camping out West). President Bush, much to the dismay of the White House press corps, would rather spend August in boiling central Texas, wielding a chainsaw.
Mr. Bush's personality grates on some. On many. He is accused of machismo, belligerence, cowboyism. For Europeans, in particular--and for European-like Americans--he is the very model of the swaggering, heedless, vulgar right-winger. He said he wanted bin Laden "dead or alive." About Saddam holdouts in Iraq, he declared, "Bring 'em on"--meaning, our boys are ready to confront them. This prompted a hue and cry among Mr. Bush's critics. As the Washington Post's Dana Milbank commented, "It's the sort of thing that sounds pretty shocking," although "often this sort of Old West rhetoric appeals to the American people."
In a June 2002 speech, Mr. Bush gave his description of the country he leads: "I like to use the word 'tough,' because we are." "Tough but compassionate," he has said on other occasions, a phrase that may apply as much to himself as to the country. In his State of the Union address of 2002, he said something remarkably blunt, even astounding: "For too long, our culture has said, 'If it feels good, do it.' Now America is embracing a new ethic and a new creed: 'Let's roll.' " (Of course, this is an evocation of the famous words spoken aboard Flight 93 on September 11.)
The last couple of years have been replete with Bush toughness--tough talk, tough action, toughness in a tough job. "They've got a problem on their hands," he said of the terrorists. "We're gonna find 'em. And if they're hidin', we're gonna smoke 'em out. And we'll bring 'em to justice." He is quite taken with this "smoking out" business. Standing in the White House with the governor of Louisiana, he said, "I know the governor likes to hunt rabbits down in Louisiana. Sometimes those rabbits think they can hide from the governor. But, eventually, he smokes 'em out and gets 'em. And that's exactly what's happening to Mr. bin Laden and all the murderers that he's trying to hide in Afghanistan."
He can be cocky, certainly--sort of defiant-cocky, righteous-cocky. In March 2002, he told an audience, "Obviously, as you well know, we found some of them [the terrorists] bunched up in the Shahikote Mountains [of Afghanistan]. And we sent our military in. And they're not bunched up anymore." Badda-bing.
So, that's our president. What of our vice president? Is he, too, a "daddy politician"? You bet, as Donald Rumsfeld would say. Dick Cheney is a laconic Westerner, exuding an aura of competence, strength and dependability. You get the feeling that things are going to be all right if Mr. Cheney is on the case. Like his boss, he talks straight, in matter-of-fact tones. His detractors enjoy reminding us that he received a deferment in the Vietnam War--he is on the liberals' list of "chicken hawks." But few serious people consider him anything other than a prime example of the tough-minded conservative.
Then there is the secretary of defense himself. Donald Rumsfeld is almost a riot of manliness, and his moment indeed arrived on September 11. He was in his office--briefing congressmen on, among other things, the threat of terrorism--when Flight 77 slammed into the Pentagon's walls. Against the advice of some, he rushed to help the wounded. Not long after 9/11, I talked to some friends of his, in preparation for a piece. One of them said, "Look, we're not playing pitty-patty anymore. We have a foe that's proven deadly. People look for a different kind of person to run Washington--as far away from the Clinton type as you can get."
Mr. Rumsfeld, it is true, is the anti-Clinton. We see this in his authenticity, his trustworthiness and his frankness. He is so direct, he practically assaults the modern, spin-accustomed ear. Mr. Rumsfeld freely uses what my colleague Kate O'Beirne has dubbed the "K-word"--kill. When a reporter asked him why U.S. forces were using such heavy bombs in Afghanistan, the secretary replied: "They are being used on frontline al Qaeda and Taliban troops to try to kill them." Oh.
Rather unexpectedly, Mr. Rumsfeld became a kind of sex symbol as the weeks and months after 9/11 unfolded. Women of all sorts were open about their attraction to him. On CNN, Larry King was moved to ask him about his new status as a heartthrob. "Oh, come on," said Mr. Rumsfeld. "For the AARP, perhaps. I'm pushing 70 years old." But that was beside the point--or maybe it was the point itself. Mr. Rumsfeld is, in fact, a throwback: to a time of crewcuts, stiff upper lips and moral clarity. He seems a character out of a World War II flick. Bill Clinton, by contrast, was more a Richard Gere kind of leader. Where Mr. Clinton feels pain, Mr. Rumsfeld is more likely to inflict it--on the country's enemies.
Sometimes viewed as insouciant, the defense secretary is resolutely clear-eyed about war. Over and over, he describes it as a "dirty job," a "tough, long, grinding, dirty business." Columnist Maureen Dowd twits him as "Rip Van Rummy"--a guy who went to sleep sometime in the '70s and woke up to find himself in government again. The old values, however, are in. Of necessity.
Rudolph Giuliani is another man whose stock has risen. After September 11, he loomed as a hero to the entire country, and his legendary toughness seemed exactly right. This was a man who took charge of hell on earth and bucked a shaken city up. He had never been a cuddly mayor--but the people of New York hadn't wanted a cuddly mayor. They wanted crime defeated and their city livable once more. To be sure, Mr. Giuliani has had some less-than-heroic moments. He held a press conference to announce that he was separating from his wife; he told both the world and her at the same time. On a lighter note, I might mention that Mr. Giuliani, as mayor, enjoyed dressing in drag. He did this on several festive, campy occasions. It takes an exceptionally manly man to appear in makeup, wig, frock, and pumps and still keep his reputation.
Since September 11, many Americans have rediscovered the virtues of manliness in office. The Democrats have a job to do if they're to challenge the "daddy party" in this respect.
They've been making an effort. Dick Gephardt, the former House minority leader and current presidential candidate, has been acting macho--or at least blustery--on the stump. He has been pounding lecterns, shouting, making his veins bulge.Mr. Gephardt seems to have lifted a page from Al Gore, whereby if you rant and rave, you're a man--indeed, an "alpha male." In his third debate versus Gov. Bush, Vice President Gore strode across the stage and got right in the face of his opponent.
Barbara Bush, mother of the Republican nominee, later commented, "I thought he was going to hit George." It was a bad move on Mr. Gore's part: He simply looked like a bully--and a pretender, at that--rather than a tough guy. Mr. Bush's parry of him--an incredulous nod--was masterly.
Again, the Democrats will have to acquire a bit more testosterone if they're to compete with the GOP. This is, indeed, no time for "pitty-patty." As for the Republicans, if they had any more testosterone, they'd be The Incredible Hulk. House Speaker Denny Hastert was a wrestling coach, for crying out loud. That's almost overkill!
www.opinionjournal.com/extra/?id=110003887
In my mind, real men DO vote Republican. What do you say?
Real men vote Republican.
BY JAY NORDLINGER
Wednesday, September 17, 2003 12:01 a.m. EDT
Many years ago Chris Matthews--now famous on TV--hit on an interesting formulation: He said the Democrats were the "mommy party" and the Republicans the "daddy party." That is, the Democrats were "nurturers," concerned with health policy and day care. The Republicans were "protectors," taking care of national security and other manly matters. This notion is obviously galling to some. But Mr. Matthews was on to something, and we now find ourselves in a "daddy party" time.
Republicans have seldom shied from an embrace of manliness. The New York Times recently ran a report on the new Bush re-election headquarters. It explained that the offices display two large photos: one of President Bush "sweating and looking rugged in a T-shirt and cowboy hat"; another of Ronald Reagan "also looking rugged in a cowboy hat." And all this was before Arnold Schwarzenegger decided to run for governor of California. Yup, that's the Republican Party.
Of course, George W. Bush is famous for his "compassionate conservatism." He is capable of great tenderness of expression, much of it related, no doubt, to his triumph over alcohol and his religious awakening. But Bush as hombre has been the dominant theme of his post-September 11 presidency.
Rich Lowry, editor of National Review, likes to tell a story about Mr. Bush out in Iowa, early in the 2000 presidential campaign. A group of Hell's Angels rode into town, and Gov. Bush simply waded into them, hugging them, bonding with them, relishing them. Not every American politician could manage this, without affectation. Mr. Bush was also, in that campaign, known to have a much better time with the rough 'n' ready cameramen in the back of the plane than with the (much more effete) reporters who also accompanied him.
His ranch in Crawford says a lot, too. President Clinton enjoyed swilling with the swells on Martha's Vineyard (except for 1996, when a poll instructed him to go camping out West). President Bush, much to the dismay of the White House press corps, would rather spend August in boiling central Texas, wielding a chainsaw.
Mr. Bush's personality grates on some. On many. He is accused of machismo, belligerence, cowboyism. For Europeans, in particular--and for European-like Americans--he is the very model of the swaggering, heedless, vulgar right-winger. He said he wanted bin Laden "dead or alive." About Saddam holdouts in Iraq, he declared, "Bring 'em on"--meaning, our boys are ready to confront them. This prompted a hue and cry among Mr. Bush's critics. As the Washington Post's Dana Milbank commented, "It's the sort of thing that sounds pretty shocking," although "often this sort of Old West rhetoric appeals to the American people."
In a June 2002 speech, Mr. Bush gave his description of the country he leads: "I like to use the word 'tough,' because we are." "Tough but compassionate," he has said on other occasions, a phrase that may apply as much to himself as to the country. In his State of the Union address of 2002, he said something remarkably blunt, even astounding: "For too long, our culture has said, 'If it feels good, do it.' Now America is embracing a new ethic and a new creed: 'Let's roll.' " (Of course, this is an evocation of the famous words spoken aboard Flight 93 on September 11.)
The last couple of years have been replete with Bush toughness--tough talk, tough action, toughness in a tough job. "They've got a problem on their hands," he said of the terrorists. "We're gonna find 'em. And if they're hidin', we're gonna smoke 'em out. And we'll bring 'em to justice." He is quite taken with this "smoking out" business. Standing in the White House with the governor of Louisiana, he said, "I know the governor likes to hunt rabbits down in Louisiana. Sometimes those rabbits think they can hide from the governor. But, eventually, he smokes 'em out and gets 'em. And that's exactly what's happening to Mr. bin Laden and all the murderers that he's trying to hide in Afghanistan."
He can be cocky, certainly--sort of defiant-cocky, righteous-cocky. In March 2002, he told an audience, "Obviously, as you well know, we found some of them [the terrorists] bunched up in the Shahikote Mountains [of Afghanistan]. And we sent our military in. And they're not bunched up anymore." Badda-bing.
So, that's our president. What of our vice president? Is he, too, a "daddy politician"? You bet, as Donald Rumsfeld would say. Dick Cheney is a laconic Westerner, exuding an aura of competence, strength and dependability. You get the feeling that things are going to be all right if Mr. Cheney is on the case. Like his boss, he talks straight, in matter-of-fact tones. His detractors enjoy reminding us that he received a deferment in the Vietnam War--he is on the liberals' list of "chicken hawks." But few serious people consider him anything other than a prime example of the tough-minded conservative.
Then there is the secretary of defense himself. Donald Rumsfeld is almost a riot of manliness, and his moment indeed arrived on September 11. He was in his office--briefing congressmen on, among other things, the threat of terrorism--when Flight 77 slammed into the Pentagon's walls. Against the advice of some, he rushed to help the wounded. Not long after 9/11, I talked to some friends of his, in preparation for a piece. One of them said, "Look, we're not playing pitty-patty anymore. We have a foe that's proven deadly. People look for a different kind of person to run Washington--as far away from the Clinton type as you can get."
Mr. Rumsfeld, it is true, is the anti-Clinton. We see this in his authenticity, his trustworthiness and his frankness. He is so direct, he practically assaults the modern, spin-accustomed ear. Mr. Rumsfeld freely uses what my colleague Kate O'Beirne has dubbed the "K-word"--kill. When a reporter asked him why U.S. forces were using such heavy bombs in Afghanistan, the secretary replied: "They are being used on frontline al Qaeda and Taliban troops to try to kill them." Oh.
Rather unexpectedly, Mr. Rumsfeld became a kind of sex symbol as the weeks and months after 9/11 unfolded. Women of all sorts were open about their attraction to him. On CNN, Larry King was moved to ask him about his new status as a heartthrob. "Oh, come on," said Mr. Rumsfeld. "For the AARP, perhaps. I'm pushing 70 years old." But that was beside the point--or maybe it was the point itself. Mr. Rumsfeld is, in fact, a throwback: to a time of crewcuts, stiff upper lips and moral clarity. He seems a character out of a World War II flick. Bill Clinton, by contrast, was more a Richard Gere kind of leader. Where Mr. Clinton feels pain, Mr. Rumsfeld is more likely to inflict it--on the country's enemies.
Sometimes viewed as insouciant, the defense secretary is resolutely clear-eyed about war. Over and over, he describes it as a "dirty job," a "tough, long, grinding, dirty business." Columnist Maureen Dowd twits him as "Rip Van Rummy"--a guy who went to sleep sometime in the '70s and woke up to find himself in government again. The old values, however, are in. Of necessity.
Rudolph Giuliani is another man whose stock has risen. After September 11, he loomed as a hero to the entire country, and his legendary toughness seemed exactly right. This was a man who took charge of hell on earth and bucked a shaken city up. He had never been a cuddly mayor--but the people of New York hadn't wanted a cuddly mayor. They wanted crime defeated and their city livable once more. To be sure, Mr. Giuliani has had some less-than-heroic moments. He held a press conference to announce that he was separating from his wife; he told both the world and her at the same time. On a lighter note, I might mention that Mr. Giuliani, as mayor, enjoyed dressing in drag. He did this on several festive, campy occasions. It takes an exceptionally manly man to appear in makeup, wig, frock, and pumps and still keep his reputation.
Since September 11, many Americans have rediscovered the virtues of manliness in office. The Democrats have a job to do if they're to challenge the "daddy party" in this respect.
They've been making an effort. Dick Gephardt, the former House minority leader and current presidential candidate, has been acting macho--or at least blustery--on the stump. He has been pounding lecterns, shouting, making his veins bulge.Mr. Gephardt seems to have lifted a page from Al Gore, whereby if you rant and rave, you're a man--indeed, an "alpha male." In his third debate versus Gov. Bush, Vice President Gore strode across the stage and got right in the face of his opponent.
Barbara Bush, mother of the Republican nominee, later commented, "I thought he was going to hit George." It was a bad move on Mr. Gore's part: He simply looked like a bully--and a pretender, at that--rather than a tough guy. Mr. Bush's parry of him--an incredulous nod--was masterly.
Again, the Democrats will have to acquire a bit more testosterone if they're to compete with the GOP. This is, indeed, no time for "pitty-patty." As for the Republicans, if they had any more testosterone, they'd be The Incredible Hulk. House Speaker Denny Hastert was a wrestling coach, for crying out loud. That's almost overkill!
www.opinionjournal.com/extra/?id=110003887
In my mind, real men DO vote Republican. What do you say?
