John McCain's moment

ST. PAUL
TIME AND AGAIN this week, speakers at the Republican National Convention reminded the audience that John McCain spent years as a prisoner of war, and suffered unimaginable tortures during that time. And yesterday, the presidential nominee ended his convention on the themes of honor, service, and patriotism. "I fell in love with my country," he declared in the prepared text of his speech, "when I was a prisoner in someone else's. I loved it not just for the many comforts of life here. I loved it for its decency; for its faith in the wisdom, justice, and goodness of its people."

But despite McCain's reverent tone, the campaign may be headed into a harsh new phase.

What might have been a battle over the two parties' policy differences has instead shaped up as a battle of biographies. Democrat Barack Obama has leaned heavily on his hardscrabble upbringing. McCain has every right to campaign on his past heroism.

Last night, though, he had a hard act to follow. His running mate, Alaska Governor Sarah Palin, won over the room Wednesday - not just with her wit and poise, but with the vigor of her assault on Obama. She and the speakers who preceded her criticized not just his resume, but the entire universe from which he springs: big cities, fancy universities, community-action groups. When even the former mayor of New York scoffs at a "cosmopolitan" worldview, as Rudy Giuliani did, the culture wars are back on.

The 1992 convention was a pageant of social conservatism. While it backfired, Republicans may hope that Palin's earthy approach will play better with voters than Pat Buchanan's stridency did back then.

Still, is this the fight that John McCain wants, amid two wars and an uncertain economy? His biography makes a stronger selling point than free-floating anger.