THE ICONOCLAST | MICKEY EDWARDS
At last, a real test for KerryNOW THAT John Kerry has accepted the fact that the person he wants to take to the big dance just isn't interested (that's OK, John, it was an ill-advised dalliance all along), he can finally get serious about choosing a running mate.
And "getting serious" is a good idea. That's because the person we call a "running mate" is far more than that: He or she is a person who might become the vice president of the United States. This was once a job no serious-minded man would aspire to. Even John Adams didn't think much of the job, and he was the first to hold it ("the most insignificant office that ever the invention of man contrived," he said). But that was in the 18th century. This is the first real defining moment of the Kerry candidacy. Everything to this point has been rhetoric: Propose this, blame the president for that, criticism but no accountability. Now Kerry must stand alone: He must make a decision that actually matters. To understand the significance of this moment, consider this: Since the end of World War II, each of the following men became president of the United States either entirely or largely because he had earlier been selected to become vice president. Without having first served in that "most insignificant office," none might have eventually moved into the Oval Office. But move in they did: Harry Truman, the man who dropped the atomic bomb and brought World War II to a close; Richard Nixon, the man who opened the door to China and then brought about the greatest political crisis of modern American history; Lyndon Johnson, who created a Great Society and prosecuted a war that tore America apart; Gerald Ford, who took on the task of fighting both inflation and the public disillusionment that followed Nixon's disgrace; George H. W. Bush, who drove Saddam Hussein out of Kuwait. Whether by ascension upon the death of the previous president or by virtue of the prominence gained from being a heartbeat away from the presidency, these men who shaped history reached the point of power by virtue of having served first as the insignificant other. There are other factors to consider, of course, including the political calculus (who can help the candidate win the election), but here there are important lessons to be learned. Consider the case of the first President Bush. During the 1988 Republican National Convention I was approached by reporters who asked me, cameras rolling, what I thought of Mr. Bush's choice for a running mate. Unlike Ronald Reagan, who had asked many of his supporters for advice on the choice, Bush had played this one close to the vest. "Who did he choose?" I asked. "Dan Quayle," one said. I laughed. Out loud. On camera. The nation laughed, too. For four years, J. Danforth Quayle of Indiana was a heartbeat away from the presidency, and the nation held its breath. The principal qualification for the position ought to be a fitness to serve as president should the need arise. Bob Dole got that part of the decision right: He chose Jack Kemp. Which brings us to desired quality number two: somebody who won't disrupt the harmony. Kemp, the upbeat and future-oriented voice of modern conservatism, found himself forced to pull in tandem with a candidate who seemed to be trying to build a bridge back to the 19th century. Kemp and Dole had never gotten along when they were in the Congress, and on the stump and in televised debates, Kemp was hamstrung by having to sing Dole's song. (This is why Kerry should be happy that John McCain brushed him off: According to the liberal Americans for Democratic Action, in 2002, the last year reported on the ADA website, Kerry and McCain were on opposite sides on every single one of the 20 issues ADA considered important enough to include in its annual ratings.) As for who can best help the national ticket, there are several obvious possibilities -- Bill Richardson, Bob Graham, Bill Nelson, perhaps John Edwards -- but only in rare cases do voters base their vote on the candidate running for number two. Kerry will be tempted to look to the "help me in November" option, but history teaches hard lessons, and lesson number one for Kerry is this: You may be in a position to affect the history of this nation not only with your own candidacy but with your choice of a candidate for vice president. This is more than politics, John. Decide carefully.
Mickey Edwards, a former Republican congressman from Oklahoma, teaches at Princeton University's Woodrow Wilson School of Public and International affairs. His column appears regularly in the Globe. © Copyright 2004 Globe Newspaper Company.
|
