Reagan stumbles
Christopher Hitchens
That was quite a show they put on there, down at the Kentucky Centre for the Performing Arts in Louisville. By the standards of presidential election dis- course, those banal claims and exchanges were almost pyrotechnic. Compared to the rest of this campaign, the 'confrontation' amounted to a maul or a brawl. And what was revealed was a truth that the White House press corps has so far kept close. Ronald Reagan isn't a 'great communica- tor' either.
Actually, he hasn't been at his best for over a year now — which is why his handlers didn't want a debate in the first place, and why they have been carefully shielding him, since the spring, from any hint of a supplementary question. Mondale was able to sense this hesitance and also, which must have been exhilarating for such a tightly-buttoned man, to relish being in a position where he had nothing to lose. So great was the surprise to most of the pundits that they didn't even notice Mon- dale's habitual weaknesses, his droning voice, his repetitive gestures, his unctuous smile and his subliminal habit ('When Ronald Reagan presents next year's tax increase') of conceding the election before it has taken place. But none of Reagan's team dared to claim a victory, so that was it. That, indeed, is show business.
It's been a stinker of a week for the President, a real Turkey of a week in fact. His Gromyko statesmanship hadn't come off, but he probably hadn't expected much from such a transparent manouevre.
he had hoped for better than what he got, which was equal time with Mondale on his latest favourite topic of arms control. Then there was his Attorney General-designate, Edwin Meese, who was pronounced by a special prosecutor to be free for the mo- ment of any actual criminal taint. This would be OK for, say, a nominee for the ambassadorship to Zaire, but for the Administration's choice as key law officer it leaves room for improvement. Hardly had the bravest face been put on this Pyrrhic victory when the Secretary of Labour was arraigned for ties with the organised criminal underworld — the only cabinet member ever to be so indicted. The press was restrained, and Mondale was almost sympathetic, in the general desire not to vulgarise this sad business (for which, see Spectator, 11 February 1984). So that, when Reagan described the 'lyn- ching' atmosphere which surrounded the case, he sounded almost hysterical in his disregard for the truth.
In a sense, then, the Reagan re-election campaign has begun to suffer from its own success. The lead in the polls was so exorbitant, and the identification of the President with the national interest so promiscuous, that there was nowhere to go but down. Only a short while ago, the merest babe given a free association word test, and shown Old Glory catching the sun, would have automatically lisped the words, 'Four more years: re-elect Reagan — Bush in '84.' There are many babes who still pass this test with streaming star- spangled banners. But there are, if a guest in the country may be allowed to say so, at least two kinds of Americanism. There is the martial, chest-expanding optimism of the President, with its very slight whiff of the cross-burnings and loyalty oaths that we all know he would be the first to deplore. And there is the small-town, horny-handed and hard-headed thriftiness, hardly less conservative but practised with increasing zeal by the challenger. The notion of a deficit as sinful, as leaving one's own children to pick up the tab for a selfish debauch, is a very shrewd one. So is the idea of plugging that as your point, no matter what question you may be asked. By sticking to that brief as doggedly as he did, Mondale came out some way in front. Those who remember how Macmillan did for Gaitskell (cries of 'Where's the money coming from?') will see at once what I mean.
This week in Washington (to round off my description of the President's travail) there was a slight but significant hiatus. The whole Federal Government was closed down for several hours, with bureaucrats sent home, telephones in key _offices left off the hook, and tiresome traffic jams at key intersections as well as in the better class of restaurant and watering hole. This had happened because the Congress was too clogged with work to pass the time- honoured 'continuing resolution' needed 'It's getting like London – great busloads of American tourists.'
to keep the Government solvent, legal and in business. There is really no doubt that the whole foul-up was Reagan's fault; especially when one remembers that it has happened before and can quite simply be prevented. He it was who refused to let the Senate majority, which is composed of his own supporters, address various bills on the deficit. Not until after November any- way. The resulting 'logjam' might have escaped notice, except that Reagan appeared before the cameras and blamed the whole thing on the relatively powerless Democratic majority in the House of Rep- resentatives. 'You can lay this right on the majority part of the House,' he said with that grin that we know so well. Was it just me, or did I sense that his hearers weren't going to wear that? Here is the man who promised to remove govern- ment from the backs of the people, and who then blames everybody else when, as chief executive, he fails even to keep the business of government from being carried on. Like his attempt to shift the responsi- bility of Beirut onto Jimmy Carter, this was Reagan over-playing his hand and flogging his famous luck to death.
The polls (always the polls, the polls) show that Mondale won the first debate with punches to spare. And the second debate is on foreign policy, which even the most consecrated Reaganites agree is not their man's strong suit. The coming Ferraro-Bush match will be no pushover for George either, unless I miss my guess. But-the polls also show that very few voters have yet shifted their allegiance. The most that can be said, therefore, is that Reagan's cloak of invulnerability now looks a little threadbare.
I seem to have written the other day that it wasn't all over yet. The Republicans, for example, could retain the Presidency and lose the Senate — which would cramp the style of the Reagan revolution. They could win, and they could find themselves with a loser on their hands (Reagan looked dreadfully old and vague in Louisville). Or they could keep on trucking, selling their conservative principles for their populist ones. In the last few weeks, the White House has gone into reverse on steel import controls, announcing a bid to stop foreign governments 'dumping' cheap steel and thus appealing to the blue-collar 'rust belt'. It has agreed to an amazingly lenient schedule for debt repayment from Amer- ican farmers. It has almost 'indexed' social security payments. It has postponed a long-promised deregulation of the road haulage industry, in order to appease the only union (the Mafia-infested teamsters) which endorses Reagan's re-election. All these concessions are expensive and, when you bear in mind the enhanced deficit, costly in political terms also. Of these three possibilities, the third seems the likeliest one, and the one most sure to calm the voters' doubts. But it will at least enable Walter Mondale to return the Republican barbs about his being the candidate of special and sectional interests.
Previous page
