THE NEW YORK TIMES
Op-Ed Contributor
The Climate for Change
By AL GORE
Published: November 9, 2008
The inspiring and transformative choice by the American people to elect Barack Obama as our 44th president lays the foundation for another fateful choice that he -- and we -- must make this January to begin an emergency rescue of human civilization from the imminent and rapidly growing threat posed by the climate crisis.
The electrifying redemption of America's revolutionary declaration that all human beings are born equal sets the stage for the renewal of United States leadership in a world that desperately needs to protect its primary endowment: the integrity and livability of the planet.
The world authority on the climate crisis, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, after 20 years of detailed study and four unanimous reports, now says that the evidence is "unequivocal." To those who are still tempted to dismiss the increasingly urgent alarms from scientists around the world, ignore the melting of the north polar ice cap and all of the other apocalyptic warnings from the planet itself, and who roll their eyes at the very mention of this existential threat to the future of the human species, please wake up. Our children and grandchildren need you to hear and recognize the truth of our situation, before it is too late.
Here is the good news: the bold steps that are needed to solve the climate crisis are exactly the same steps that ought to be taken in order to solve the economic crisis and the energy security crisis.
Economists across the spectrum -- including Martin Feldstein and Lawrence Summers -- agree that large and rapid investments in a jobs-intensive infrastructure initiative is the best way to revive our economy in a quick and sustainable way. Many also agree that our economy will fall behind if we continue spending hundreds of billions of dollars on foreign oil every year. Moreover, national security experts in both parties agree that we face a dangerous strategic vulnerability if the world suddenly loses access to Middle Eastern oil.
As Abraham Lincoln said during America's darkest hour, "The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise with the occasion. As our case is new, so we must think anew, and act anew." In our present case, thinking anew requires discarding an outdated and fatally flawed definition of the problem we face.
Thirty-five years ago this past week, President Richard Nixon created Project Independence, which set a national goal that, within seven years, the United States would develop "the potential to meet our own energy needs without depending on any foreign energy sources." His statement came three weeks after the Arab oil embargo had sent prices skyrocketing and woke America to the dangers of dependence on foreign oil. And -- not coincidentally -- it came only three years after United States domestic oil production had peaked.
At the time, the United States imported less than a third of its oil from foreign countries. Yet today, after all six of the presidents succeeding Nixon repeated some version of his goal, our dependence has doubled from one-third to nearly two-thirds -- and many feel that global oil production is at or near its peak.
Some still see this as a problem of domestic production. If we could only increase oil and coal production at home, they argue, then we wouldn't have to rely on imports from the Middle East. Some have come up with even dirtier and more expensive new ways to extract the same old fuels, like coal liquids, oil shale, tar sands and "clean coal" technology.
But in every case, the resources in question are much too expensive or polluting, or, in the case of "clean coal," too imaginary to make a difference in protecting either our national security or the global climate. Indeed, those who spend hundreds of millions promoting "clean coal" technology consistently omit the fact that there is little investment and not a single large-scale demonstration project in the United States for capturing and safely burying all of this pollution. If the coal industry can make good on this promise, then I'm all for it. But until that day comes, we simply cannot any longer base the strategy for human survival on a cynical and self-interested illusion.
Here's what we can do -- now: we can make an immediate and large strategic investment to put people to work replacing 19th-century energy technologies that depend on dangerous and expensive carbon-based fuels with 21st-century technologies that use fuel that is free forever: the sun, the wind and the natural heat of the earth.
What follows is a five-part plan to repower America with a commitment to producing 100 percent of our electricity from carbon-free sources within 10 years. It is a plan that would simultaneously move us toward solutions to the climate crisis and the economic crisis -- and create millions of new jobs that cannot be outsourced.
First, the new president and the new Congress should offer large-scale investment in incentives for the construction of concentrated solar thermal plants in the Southwestern deserts, wind farms in the corridor stretching from Texas to the Dakotas and advanced plants in geothermal hot spots that could produce large amounts of electricity.
Second, we should begin the planning and construction of a unified national smart grid for the transport of renewable electricity from the rural places where it is mostly generated to the cities where it is mostly used. New high-voltage, low-loss underground lines can be designed with "smart" features that provide consumers with sophisticated information and easy-to-use tools for conserving electricity, eliminating inefficiency and reducing their energy bills. The cost of this modern grid -- $400 billion over 10 years -- pales in comparison with the annual loss to American business of $120 billion due to the cascading failures that are endemic to our current balkanized and antiquated electricity lines.
Third, we should help America's automobile industry (not only the Big Three but the innovative new startup companies as well) to convert quickly to plug-in hybrids that can run on the renewable electricity that will be available as the rest of this plan matures. In combination with the unified grid, a nationwide fleet of plug-in hybrids would also help to solve the problem of electricity storage. Think about it: with this sort of grid, cars could be charged during off-peak energy-use hours; during peak hours, when fewer cars are on the road, they could contribute their electricity back into the national grid.
Fourth, we should embark on a nationwide effort to retrofit buildings with better insulation and energy-efficient windows and lighting. Approximately 40 percent of carbon dioxide emissions in the United States come from buildings -- and stopping that pollution saves money for homeowners and businesses. This initiative should be coupled with the proposal in Congress to help Americans who are burdened by mortgages that exceed the value of their homes.
Fifth, the United States should lead the way by putting a price on carbon here at home, and by leading the world's efforts to replace the Kyoto treaty next year in Copenhagen with a more effective treaty that caps global carbon dioxide emissions and encourages nations to invest together in efficient ways to reduce global warming pollution quickly, including by sharply reducing deforestation.
Of course, the best way -- indeed the only way -- to secure a global agreement to safeguard our future is by re-establishing the United States as the country with the moral and political authority to lead the world toward a solution.
Looking ahead, I have great hope that we will have the courage to embrace the changes necessary to save our economy, our planet and ultimately ourselves.
In an earlier transformative era in American history, President John F. Kennedy challenged our nation to land a man on the moon within 10 years. Eight years and two months later, Neil Armstrong set foot on the lunar surface. The average age of the systems engineers cheering on Apollo 11 from the Houston control room that day was 26, which means that their average age when President Kennedy announced the challenge was 18.
This year similarly saw the rise of young Americans, whose enthusiasm electrified Barack Obama's campaign. There is little doubt that this same group of energized youth will play an essential role in this project to secure our national future, once again turning seemingly impossible goals into inspiring success.
Al Gore, the vice president from 1993 to 2001, was the co-recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize in 2007. He founded the Alliance for Climate Protection and, as a businessman, invests in alternative energy companies.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
"...needs to be more Native voices in Palin's administration. "
Palin's rural adviser quits
By ANNE SUTTON
The Associated Press
Monday, October 13, 2008; 10:04 PM
JUNEAU, Alaska -- Gov. Sarah Palin's rural adviser resigned Monday amid criticism of the governor's record on hiring Alaska Natives.
Rhonda McBride, who is not an Alaska Native, made the announcement in an e-mail to several Native leaders, saying there needs to be more Native voices in Palin's administration.
"I definitely think it would help to have an Alaska Native in this position," McBride told The Associated Press.
Many Alaska Natives have said they felt neglected when Palin, now the Republican vice presidential nominee, made appointments to her administration, including the rural adviser post.
State Sen. Al Kookesh, a Democrat, said Palin left the position unfilled her first year in office and ignored Native leaders' suggestions on the selection process.
"We were really disappointed when an Alaska Native wasn't appointed," said Kookesh, a Tlingit Indian who held the job in a previous administration.
Natives bristled early in Palin's administration when she named a white woman to a game board seat held by a Native for more than 25 years. An Athabascan Indian eventually was named to the post after protests.
Relations worsened after Palin didn't remove a game board chairman who once suggested that Alaska Natives missed a meeting because they were drinking beer, seen as insensitive since the Alaska Native community has high rates of alcohol abuse.
Alaska Natives make up about 20 percent of the population.
Palin's husband, Todd, is part Yup'ik Eskimo, and her 13-member cabinet includes two Alaska Natives.
"In all honesty, I have never felt authentic in my role," McBride wrote in her e-mail, a copy of which was obtained by the AP.
McBride, who covered rural issues as a reporter before becoming rural adviser last year, said she would return to journalism to help bring attention to Native issues.
She said her last day would be Oct. 23.
By ANNE SUTTON
The Associated Press
Monday, October 13, 2008; 10:04 PM
JUNEAU, Alaska -- Gov. Sarah Palin's rural adviser resigned Monday amid criticism of the governor's record on hiring Alaska Natives.
Rhonda McBride, who is not an Alaska Native, made the announcement in an e-mail to several Native leaders, saying there needs to be more Native voices in Palin's administration.
"I definitely think it would help to have an Alaska Native in this position," McBride told The Associated Press.
Many Alaska Natives have said they felt neglected when Palin, now the Republican vice presidential nominee, made appointments to her administration, including the rural adviser post.
State Sen. Al Kookesh, a Democrat, said Palin left the position unfilled her first year in office and ignored Native leaders' suggestions on the selection process.
"We were really disappointed when an Alaska Native wasn't appointed," said Kookesh, a Tlingit Indian who held the job in a previous administration.
Natives bristled early in Palin's administration when she named a white woman to a game board seat held by a Native for more than 25 years. An Athabascan Indian eventually was named to the post after protests.
Relations worsened after Palin didn't remove a game board chairman who once suggested that Alaska Natives missed a meeting because they were drinking beer, seen as insensitive since the Alaska Native community has high rates of alcohol abuse.
Alaska Natives make up about 20 percent of the population.
Palin's husband, Todd, is part Yup'ik Eskimo, and her 13-member cabinet includes two Alaska Natives.
"In all honesty, I have never felt authentic in my role," McBride wrote in her e-mail, a copy of which was obtained by the AP.
McBride, who covered rural issues as a reporter before becoming rural adviser last year, said she would return to journalism to help bring attention to Native issues.
She said her last day would be Oct. 23.
When will John McCain learn his lesson?
McCain explained what had given him confidence in Keating's operations, citing written assurances from some of the financial world's sacred cows, including Alan Greenspan -- ...And while the speech skirted over an issue of earlier letters McCain wrote to the Reagan White House in support of Keating's efforts to reduce federal restrictions impeding his investment plans, his implicit message was clear: Even the sharpies had been fooled by Keating -- there was plenty of fault to go around.
"...reduce federal restrictions..."?
When will John McCain learn his lesson?
MOMENTS OF TRUTH | McCain and the Keating Five
Senator's Image as Reformer Born in Crisis
Career Eventually Thrived in Aftermath
By Michael Leahy
Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, October 23, 2008; Page A01
Facing the biggest crisis of his political career in late 1989, John McCain telephoned Jay Smith, an old friend and strategist, and asked him to come to a damage-control session in McCain's Washington office.
McCain was under investigation for his connection to a pushy savings-and-loan operator named Charles H. Keating Jr., and Smith worried that the senator had created an appearance of impropriety because of his uncharacteristically guarded response to the accusations and his stubborn refusal to talk to reporters about them. The solution, he told McCain and his aides, was to hold a news conference. Take every question, Smith said. Say nothing is off limits. Let McCain be McCain.
Others in the room remember press secretary Victoria Clarke arguing against Smith's recommendation. "I don't think he can pull it off," she said of McCain, and then, with the senator just a few feet away, she raised a disastrous possibility: "I think he will lose his temper."
"I don't think that's true, " Smith said, turning in his chair toward McCain. "What do you think?"
"I can do it," McCain said.
Smith wasn't surprised -- he knew he had been appealing to McCain's instinct to get on the offensive. As much as he loathed the media now for what he regarded as their unfairness, McCain liked the idea of walking into the lions' den and taking on the enemy.
Some of his advisers thought his vacillation over what to do about the Keating controversy reflected an internal conflict of their boss -- between his philosophical preference for public openness and his private fury anytime he felt his dignity trampled, an anger that sometimes revealed itself in his walling himself off from anyone who crossed him. But as the Keating crisis played out, they concluded that to frame the shifting tides of his nature this way was to miss the real point about McCain: that, at his best and worst, he was driven mostly by defiance in the face of pressure.
"If people tell him he can't do something, John's instinct often is to do it and prove them wrong," Smith says.
If anything at all was slowly changing in McCain, it was the new priority he assigned to pragmatism, accommodation and self-preservation, a trio of concepts that his once-rebellious father had tried to instill in him during McCain's Naval Academy days, and that the son had scorned. Under the stress of his political nightmare now, he exhibited the first signs of a self-reevaluation.
The means and manner of McCain's political resuscitation during the weeks that followed provided a window to his emerging style amid controversy -- his zest for the big gamble, the aggressive push-back while his similarly beleaguered Keating Five colleagues took refuge behind closed doors, his deftness in recasting himself as a chastened reformer and his skill in turning a potentially disastrous setback to his advantage.
Oddly, the crisis some thought would destroy him proved to be fortuitous. While the Keating episode was the most searing moment of his career, his response to it launched him into the national spotlight. Ever since, he has been on the long, if bumpy, ascension that led him to the Republican presidential nomination.
Later those same instincts helped make his recovery possible in the wake of his crushing loss to George W. Bush for the 2000 presidential nomination. In both crises, he proved himself to be a resilient and resourceful fighter, a dangerous politician to underestimate.
No other blow in McCain's life had stung him as much as the Keating bludgeoning. "At least the North Vietnamese didn't question my integrity," he famously snapped at two Arizona reporters when asked how the fallout from the scandal compared with the torment he suffered as a prisoner of war in Hanoi.
When it came to Keating, McCain had a unique public relations mess that had little to do with the $112,000 in contributions he had received from the magnate during his first three campaigns. "Of the five senators before you, then-Representative McCain had the closest personal friendship with Charles Keating," Robert Bennett, chief counsel of the Senate ethics committee, informed panel members. Bennett, who would later represent the presidential nominee in his battles with the New York Times, added that McCain had been given gifts from Keating that the other senators hadn't: "Senator McCain was also the only one to receive personal as well as political benefits from Charles Keating."
During his early years as a congressman in the 1980s, McCain had vacationed, along with his wife, Cindy, young daughter Meghan and a babysitter, on Keating's estate at Cat Cay in the Bahamas. On several occasions, Keating flew the family down to the vacation site aboard the aircraft of his corporation, American Continental, after which McCain seemingly violated congressional rules in not promptly reimbursing the corporation.
In 1989, McCain finally paid about $13,000 to American Continental to cover the expense of his family's previously unreimbursed airfare to the island, later saying that the delay resulted merely from an oversight. But, politically speaking, the timing could hardly have been worse. By then, federal regulators had seized the savings and loan under Keating's control and news had broken of a Justice Department investigation of the S&L.
Aware of the fallout that might come from the news that he had run afoul of congressional rules in not swiftly paying his friend's company, McCain turned to his wife, who generally handled the family's household bills, in hopes that she might find canceled checks proving that the McCains had reimbursed American Continental for some, if not all, of the flights at issue.
Complicating McCain's public relations problems, stories surfaced that Cindy and her father, Jim Hensley, the owner of a successful Anheuser-Busch beer distributorship in Phoenix, had invested in a real estate deal with Keating. While McCain had played no role in their investment in an Arizona shopping center built by a subsidiary of American Continental, the deal triggered questions among reporters and Senate investigators about his motives and possible conflicts of interest.
It was a dark period. "John was deeply down," Maine senator and future defense secretary William S. Cohen remembers. "He was upset a lot of the time with himself. . . . He'd made a mistake, obviously -- mistakes of 'appearance,' as he said, in going to the meetings [with federal regulators]. . . . But something like riding on a plane with Keating: He'd never given that a second thought -- his father-in-law knew Keating, after all. He had this sense of outrage over what some people were saying about him. . . . He felt more wounded by that whole experience than anything else that had ever happened in his life. He said to me one day, 'They've inflicted more pain on me than the North Vietnamese did' -- that was the essence of it. . . . [Virginia Sen. John W.] Warner and I tried pumping him up and saying, 'You'll get through this okay; it'll be okay.' But it was hard."
During the last half of 1989, McCain turned for advice to former Arizona senator Barry Goldwater, his predecessor, with whom his relationship had experienced ups and downs. McCain sent Goldwater a private note, asking whether the legend could recommend a way to handle the Keating controversy.
Goldwater, who had been reluctant to issue a public defense of McCain, was characteristically blunt, offering a bit of encouragement but little else. "I've been wracking my brain to come up with some advice to give you, but frankly, I can't find any," he wrote in a letter to McCain, a copy of which is in the Goldwater Papers collection at the Arizona Historical Foundation. "My suggestion is, sort of lay off it, you've explained it to everyone who would listen, and now I think your job is to get a hell of a lot of work done for Arizona that will stand out more predominantly, than what has happened to you with Mr. Keating. That's about it, John. Work your ass off. . . . I think you can do it."
By then, Keating's Lincoln Savings and Loan had collapsed under crushing debt, to be taken over by the federal government, which covered Lincoln's losses at a cost of about $3 billion to American taxpayers. More than 20,000 bondholders had lost more than $200 million in savings. The outspoken critics of Keating's five senatorial friends had grown to include some of the regulators from the Federal Home Loan Bank Board whose initial concerns about Keating had gone unheeded.
Before the ethics committee hearings even began in late 1989, the regulators leveled accusations of improper conduct against the five senators, who had accepted a total of more than $1.3 million in campaign money from Keating. At the start of the hearings, the senators sat dourly alongside one another in a long row, a visual suggestive of co-defendants in a rogues' docket.
That image and the words "taxpayers' billions" had a damning effect: Although some of the targeted senators had yet to see it, three of them -- Democrats Dennis DeConcini of Arizona, Alan Cranston of California and Donald W. Riegle Jr. of Michigan -- were already effectively finished in electoral politics, never again to run for public office. The committee determined in 1991 that the three had improperly interfered with the bank board's investigation of Lincoln, with Cranston receiving a sharply worded reprimand. The committee exonerated the fourth Democratic senator involved, Ohio's John Glenn, a revered former astronaut who had taken $200,000 in contributions from Keating. But while Glenn would win reelection once more, his career was never quite the same, the committee concluding that he had exercised "poor judgment" in meeting with regulators at Keating's behest.
It was the same decision that the panel reached about McCain. But, though the committee treated McCain and Glenn identically, their political fates could scarcely have been more different. Among the five senators, only McCain's career genuinely recovered -- and eventually thrived -- in the wake of the crisis.
'I Freely Admit My Errors'
Two days after the strategy meeting in his Washington office, McCain appeared at the Phoenix Sheraton Hotel before a thicket of cameras and Arizona reporters. Victoria Clarke planted herself a few feet away, and McCain told her to rub her nose if he sounded like he was on the verge of losing his temper.
McCain read from a prepared text that Jay Smith had helped to draft. "I will stand here and take your questions for as long as you have them," he told the media. "Anything you want to ask me."
A disarming speech followed, which included a swift admission: "I am not going to stand here and tell you -- or have the attitude -- that everything I have done is above reproach and without fault. Was I sufficiently sensitive to the appearance some of my actions were creating? Maybe not.
"I freely admit my errors. . . . I committed an error by not reimbursing American Continental for my travel on their corporate aircraft at the time of the travel, which members of Congress are required to do. This was wrong. I can honestly tell you that I did not do this intentionally. I had assumed all along that payment for the trips had been made. . . . John McCain may have made some poor judgments. But I have never used my office to aid any individual improperly."
McCain explained what had given him confidence in Keating's operations, citing written assurances from some of the financial world's sacred cows, including Alan Greenspan -- who in the years before becoming the Federal Reserve Board chairman, had served as a consultant to Keating -- and what was then known as Arthur Young & Co., one of the Big Eight accounting firms. And while the speech skirted over an issue of earlier letters McCain wrote to the Reagan White House in support of Keating's efforts to reduce federal restrictions impeding his investment plans, his implicit message was clear: Even the sharpies had been fooled by Keating -- there was plenty of fault to go around.
He quoted a Greenspan testimonial about Lincoln Savings and Loan's operations during the Fed chairman's days as a Keating adviser: " 'I believe that Lincoln . . . has demonstrated that it has the adequate capitalization, sound business plans, managerial expertise and the proper diversification to which the Board refers.' "
After the speech, McCain calmly answered questions until there were no more.
It was, even in the judgment of critics, a bravura performance. The Arizona Republic newspaper, which had earlier viewed McCain's Keating-related comments as defensive and unseemly, signaled its approval: "He freely owned up to error and carelessness, refused to blame his staff, and left the news conference with his reputation intact." The Republic's sister paper, the Phoenix Gazette, noted that he had checked his fury at the door.
The McCain team's public relations onslaught had just begun. Over the next six weeks, the senator became ubiquitous on TV news shows and in major publications, granting interviews to 21 media giants that included the three major networks' evening news shows, The Washington Post, the New York Times, Time magazine, PBS's "The MacNeil-Lehrer Newshour," and ABC's "Nightline" and "This Week With David Brinkley."
"It wouldn't be successful if he was seen as ducking somebody . . . so he talked to virtually everybody," Smith remembers. It worked. Commentators and even some of the Federal Home Loan Bank Board regulators praised McCain for talking openly about his mistakes. By then, the subject of his apologies had grown to include his simple presence at the Keating Five meetings. In a November 1989 interview with PBS's Roger Mudd, he declared: "The appearance of five senators meeting with one regulator is clearly . . . wrong. . . . I made mistakes, and serious ones. But I did not abuse the power of my office."
In denying having done anything unethical while repeatedly emphasizing his regret about the "appearance" of having made a mistake, McCain was gambling that voters would discern a distinction. Seeing the risk in the strategy, Mudd observed that it was a "roll of the dice." McCain, he said, "has fully thrown himself on the mercy of public opinion."
McCain acknowledged he had troubles, observing that he was caught in the "crisis of my political life."
"Think you'll survive it?" Mudd asked.
"I hope so," McCain said.
Toward the end of the PBS report, in what became a pattern during his television appearances, McCain received a favorable nod from the commentator. "John McCain has been the only one talking," Mudd told viewers. "The other four senators who are involved . . . all have been following a policy of stonewalling the press."
The flattering contrast emerged as a familiar media refrain in the days ahead, politically deadly to the four silent senators but a boost to McCain's political resurrection. When John Glenn finally began speaking publicly about the controversy, he avoided expressing any McCain-like regrets, steadfastly insisting upon his forthrightness, though sounding defensive in the process: "I never acted in a more ethical, moral and legal way in my life," he said.
By then, after weeks of interviews, McCain had changed from being a once little-known junior senator from Arizona to a national media favorite, appreciated for his admissions and unpredictable candor about the Keating mess. Even Edwin J. Gray, the chairman of the Federal Home Loan Bank Board, who had felt unduly pressured by the five senators at the first meeting about Keating, singled out the senator who kept issuing the same qualified mea culpa. "In the case of Senator McCain, he is the one who has apologized -- he said [that five senators meeting with the regulators] was wrong, basically," Gray said. "And I think he deserves a lot of credit for that."
Back in Washington, DeConcini, who would later decide against seeking election in 1994, took note of McCain's rise from the dead.
"John did some smart political things, in retrospect," DeConcini says. "He went back to Arizona, admitted to some mistakes of judgment; that was shrewd. . . . He didn't take an aggressive position like I did, and like Riegle and Cranston did in fighting. . . . Maybe I should have admitted to some mistakes in judgment in some way. . . . And perhaps I should have called Greenspan and spoken out about Greenspan's support [of Keating] like McCain did [in his press conference]. But my staff talked me out of it. . . . John benefited from doing some smart things."
Birth of Campaign Reform for McCain
In response to questions from television anchormen, the chastened McCain seized the mantle of a new cause. "I am all for campaign finance reform," he said in late 1989 on "Nightline." "I think it will come over time. I think it will take impetus."
"That was the birth of campaign reform for McCain," Jay Smith later observed.
No one close to McCain could remember him ever talking about the subject before. But with the fallout from the Keating scandal receding, and his priorities changing, the great reception he was receiving from pundits and television interviewers emboldened him. Over the next year, he linked the ills of campaign finance scandals to excessive government spending, arguing that one led to the other. He began excoriating pork-barrel spending and earmarks. It was all part of a package of reforms being pushed by a new brand of Republican crusader.
"He'd never really talked about earmarks either before Keating," Smith recalls. "His new message was, number one: The status quo is unacceptable. . . . He'd known he was going to be exonerated [by the Senate ethics committee], but he also knew that . . . there was still this appearance of impropriety out there for some people. . . . . He'd had no real reason until then to pay attention to issues like campaign finance. . . . I first heard him talk at length about reform during his 1992 reelection campaign."
For the senator once regarded as a reliable party man, the moment marked the beginning of his subtle shift away from the orthodoxy of his party's establishment, his first steps toward staking out a reformist agenda that would at once begin to distance him from Keating while inexorably creating a rift between him and powerful Republicans who resented the casting of the issue as a moral litmus test. Sens. Mitch McConnell and Trent Lott maneuvered to derail a series of McCain attempts to change campaign financing rules, and for the first time, some Republicans and conservative pundits openly talked of the irritant that McCain was becoming.
But an ever more defiant McCain, having hitched his star to his reformer image, had made campaign finance a cause by then. After several failures to overcome Republican opposition, McCain and Democratic Sen. Russell Feingold of Wisconsin managed to win congressional approval of their campaign finance reform legislation in 2002. Best known as McCain-Feingold, the bill's most important provision banned unlimited and unregulated "soft money" contributions from individuals, corporations and labor unions to federal candidates and national political parties.
Its passage served to remind admirers and foes alike of McCain's outsider status. Some Republicans approved of it only grudgingly. President Bush expressed discomfort with parts of McCain-Feingold, but he signed it into law, which the Supreme Court upheld a year later.
Long before then, the specter of Keating and the scandal that threatened his career had been flipped to McCain's advantage, setting in motion a political climb that cast him as reformer, a maverick, a national figure and, eventually, a presidential contender in 2000. His campaign bus, the Straight Talk Express, would become the rolling symbol of his new identity.
"There was no doubt that campaign finance and being a maverick was a direct result of all that had happened to him," Cohen observes. "John wanted to see some changes, and people were suddenly listening to him, though not every Republican was always pleased with what they heard. John was not always a party guy, but I liked it. Many people liked it."
Costly Clashes
The Keating episode, and his crusade for campaign finance reform, set in motion a decade-long odyssey for McCain -- it saw him beset by seemingly crushing setbacks even as he steadily built for himself a winning image as a fierce and recalcitrant rebel. It propelled him as a national force even as it stiffened the opposition to him among conservatives.
That he had no definable political ideology made it easier to acquire the image of a reformer and iconoclast; he was answerable to nothing and no one in the largest sense. Unbound by a philosophy and so largely immune to charges of inconsistency, McCain's political outlook could afford to be thoroughly malleable, guided only by his instincts.
His acolytes touted him as a renegade who placed country above party and special interests -- just the right leader to reclaim the White House for Republicans, they argued. But, during the 1990s, his maverick image increasingly complicated his presidential ambitions. For every party leader who admired his independence, there was another prominent Republican voicing disdain for his go-it-alone style. Congressional Republicans who had done battle with him on campaign-finance and other issues made no secret of their opposition to him as a possible presidential candidate, and back home in Arizona, several key Republicans chafed against what they regarded as his attempts to dictate their political moves.
Even people who had stood by him since his earliest political days began abandoning him, sometimes not because of his reformist impulses but simply because his demanding nature so hurt or alienated them. He would expect fealty and they would say no. The crusader still sometimes exhibited his old prodigious temper, losing his cool behind closed doors with Republicans reluctant to do what he wanted, especially in Arizona. Their ranks included several of his longtime allies and key friends, whose estrangement he couldn't politically afford. In time, the widespread disaffection would spark the second crisis of his career, though he couldn't see the trouble brewing in the late 1990s, so busily was he preparing for his 2000 presidential run.
He had already suffered a falling out with his former top congressional aide in Arizona, Grant Woods, long viewed as his alter ego, a man who had begun to stake out his own promising future in Republican politics. Seen by many Arizonan observers as a reformer in the McCain image, Woods had risen to become Arizona's attorney general, a position from which, in the 1990s, he began investigating the state's Republican governor, Fife Symington, who would eventually be driven from office because of allegations of a financial scandal. As Woods recounts, a livid McCain asked him, "What the hell are you doing?"
"I've gotta do what I've gotta do," Woods remembers responding.
McCain made it clear that he didn't want him investigating a fellow Republican, Woods recalls. When Woods persisted, and defied McCain on a series of other issues, their relationship ended, with Woods shut out of McCain's inner circle. "It was kind of a military thing to him, a chain-of-command thing," Woods says. "I didn't follow the commands. He's a military guy, and you're supposed to salute the guy ahead of you on the command chart, and I wasn't saluting."
Perhaps the most costly clash for McCain came with Republican Jane Hull, who succeeded Symington as governor. As Woods and Smith remember, McCain never had forgiven Hull for supporting one of his Republican primary rivals during his first congressional race in 1982. "Dumb as a tree," he privately said of Hull, who, according to associates close to her, heard about McCain's insults from others and argued vociferously with him on occasions when she felt that his demands infringed on her prerogatives as governor.
McCain's grudge against Hull had long baffled Woods, who years earlier had urged his old boss to bury his contempt. "I would say to him, 'Why do you even care, John?' " Woods remembers. " 'You're talking about something that happened back in '82.' But John cared. I thought it was pretty petty and ludicrous. . . . He didn't show her the proper respect at times. I told him, 'If you don't stop doing this, you're going to have the same amount of supporters 20 years from now as you do today -- you won't add anybody.' " Woods warned McCain of the danger of alienating any prominent Arizona Republican. "It made absolutely no sense for him to keep doing it to somebody like Jane Hull. She was a strong personality herself, and she was a fellow governor of George W. Bush. And we saw what happened with that."
What happened was that, one afternoon in 1999, without warning McCain, Hull stunned the Republican political establishment by announcing her support of Bush for the 2000 presidential nomination. The moment marked the start of a new crisis. A series of other notable Arizona party operatives whom McCain had offended over the years followed Hull's lead.
Then, former congressman John Rhodes, a onetime House Republican leader whose seat McCain had captured in his first political race after Rhodes retired, issued his own endorsement of Bush, trying to soften the rejection for McCain by declaring he would support his fellow Arizonan for any office except the presidency.
Word of Arizona's disaffection toward its not-so-favorite son had spread. After he upset Bush in the New Hampshire primary, the nomination battle for McCain hinged on winning the South Carolina primary. Both the Bush and McCain forces waged fierce campaigns, with McCain irate over an anonymous smear effort alleging, among other things, that he had fathered a mixed-race child.
McCain questioned Bush's integrity and intellect. But nothing he did could stop his sliding fortunes, a trend that grew worse amid a push against him by leading Christian conservatives enamored of Bush and skeptical of McCain's commitment to their social causes. After losing South Carolina, McCain bitterly lashed out at them, referring to ministers Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell, a co-founder of the Moral Majority, as "agents of intolerance." It was an act of political self-immolation. His campaign was finished.
The Downside of Ferocity
The Keating nightmare had infused McCain with tenacity and moral indignation. But it had taught him little, if anything, about patience and reconciliation. His old anger still competed with his new reformist politics for the attention of the public, the media and his colleagues.
The quandary had been a lifelong problem. More than 40 years earlier, his father, Jack McCain, had sought to lecture him, over lunch near the Naval Academy, on the importance of staying calm and not self-destructing when dealing with foes, especially those in superior military positions. The young rebel was fuming that afternoon again about a company commander whom he had come to regard as a mean-spirited, vindictive disgrace. His father, once a young renegade himself at the academy, but now a politically astute officer on his way to becoming a four-star admiral, warned him against taking on authority, preaching the merits of patience. McCain kept arguing the point with his father, refusing to back down. His war with Capt. R.G. Hunt, and half a century of more Hunts, would continue.
McCain's steel and ferocity had served him well at different points in his life -- in hostile schoolyards, in tough bars and in the Senate, when he was caught in the Keating fires and later in pushing campaign-finance reform. But all along, the ferocity had its downside, too, and five decades after his father's warnings, aware that he had no other choice if he ever wanted to capture the White House, the rebel at last embraced accommodation.
Although tensions between his office and the Bush White House remained, the newly accommodating McCain frequently lent the president his high-profile support and painstakingly emphasized, before conservative audiences, that he voted with him on the vast majority of issues. He gave full-throated support to the controversial Bush tax cuts, after first calling them unfair. He hugged the president at White House photo ops when Bush's poll numbers were falling and the administration was in need of all the political cover it could get.
By 2006, McCain had publicly set aside another longstanding grudge, delivering a commencement address at Liberty University and receiving a hug from another old antagonist, the university's co-founder Jerry Falwell, who died last year. His disinterest in ideology, his trust in his instincts and his comfort with the improvisational style of his own politics was proving successful in helping him make friends of former foes.
On his way to the 2008 nomination, McCain adroitly built a new coalition of Republican conservatives and moderates. As the general campaign has worn on, his nimbleness has not come without occasional costs, as some Republicans have joined Democrats in arguing that he has embraced new positions with an alarming alacrity, such as during the Wall Street bailout crisis, when his stances evolved almost daily, incorporating elements of both well-worn conservative and liberal dogmas.
But he might never have been here in the first place, so close to his dream, without having realized the benefits of all his accommodations, large and small, over the past eight years. "My father kind of gave McCain an unofficial endorsement when they finally got together," remembers Falwell's elder son, Jerry Falwell Jr. "He thought McCain would be the nominee in 2008. I think both of them discovered that they had some real personal chemistry, some real things in common. They were both mavericks, after all."
The moment represented just one more in a long line of conciliatory gestures from McCain, who was anxiously reaching out, sometimes with the help of surrogates, to soothe old enemies. Jane Hull was aboard the campaign now. And Grant Woods. And most of John Rhodes's longtime allies, too. In reaching for command, his father's way had become his own.
"...reduce federal restrictions..."?
When will John McCain learn his lesson?
MOMENTS OF TRUTH | McCain and the Keating Five
Senator's Image as Reformer Born in Crisis
Career Eventually Thrived in Aftermath
By Michael Leahy
Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, October 23, 2008; Page A01
Facing the biggest crisis of his political career in late 1989, John McCain telephoned Jay Smith, an old friend and strategist, and asked him to come to a damage-control session in McCain's Washington office.
McCain was under investigation for his connection to a pushy savings-and-loan operator named Charles H. Keating Jr., and Smith worried that the senator had created an appearance of impropriety because of his uncharacteristically guarded response to the accusations and his stubborn refusal to talk to reporters about them. The solution, he told McCain and his aides, was to hold a news conference. Take every question, Smith said. Say nothing is off limits. Let McCain be McCain.
Others in the room remember press secretary Victoria Clarke arguing against Smith's recommendation. "I don't think he can pull it off," she said of McCain, and then, with the senator just a few feet away, she raised a disastrous possibility: "I think he will lose his temper."
"I don't think that's true, " Smith said, turning in his chair toward McCain. "What do you think?"
"I can do it," McCain said.
Smith wasn't surprised -- he knew he had been appealing to McCain's instinct to get on the offensive. As much as he loathed the media now for what he regarded as their unfairness, McCain liked the idea of walking into the lions' den and taking on the enemy.
Some of his advisers thought his vacillation over what to do about the Keating controversy reflected an internal conflict of their boss -- between his philosophical preference for public openness and his private fury anytime he felt his dignity trampled, an anger that sometimes revealed itself in his walling himself off from anyone who crossed him. But as the Keating crisis played out, they concluded that to frame the shifting tides of his nature this way was to miss the real point about McCain: that, at his best and worst, he was driven mostly by defiance in the face of pressure.
"If people tell him he can't do something, John's instinct often is to do it and prove them wrong," Smith says.
If anything at all was slowly changing in McCain, it was the new priority he assigned to pragmatism, accommodation and self-preservation, a trio of concepts that his once-rebellious father had tried to instill in him during McCain's Naval Academy days, and that the son had scorned. Under the stress of his political nightmare now, he exhibited the first signs of a self-reevaluation.
The means and manner of McCain's political resuscitation during the weeks that followed provided a window to his emerging style amid controversy -- his zest for the big gamble, the aggressive push-back while his similarly beleaguered Keating Five colleagues took refuge behind closed doors, his deftness in recasting himself as a chastened reformer and his skill in turning a potentially disastrous setback to his advantage.
Oddly, the crisis some thought would destroy him proved to be fortuitous. While the Keating episode was the most searing moment of his career, his response to it launched him into the national spotlight. Ever since, he has been on the long, if bumpy, ascension that led him to the Republican presidential nomination.
Later those same instincts helped make his recovery possible in the wake of his crushing loss to George W. Bush for the 2000 presidential nomination. In both crises, he proved himself to be a resilient and resourceful fighter, a dangerous politician to underestimate.
No other blow in McCain's life had stung him as much as the Keating bludgeoning. "At least the North Vietnamese didn't question my integrity," he famously snapped at two Arizona reporters when asked how the fallout from the scandal compared with the torment he suffered as a prisoner of war in Hanoi.
When it came to Keating, McCain had a unique public relations mess that had little to do with the $112,000 in contributions he had received from the magnate during his first three campaigns. "Of the five senators before you, then-Representative McCain had the closest personal friendship with Charles Keating," Robert Bennett, chief counsel of the Senate ethics committee, informed panel members. Bennett, who would later represent the presidential nominee in his battles with the New York Times, added that McCain had been given gifts from Keating that the other senators hadn't: "Senator McCain was also the only one to receive personal as well as political benefits from Charles Keating."
During his early years as a congressman in the 1980s, McCain had vacationed, along with his wife, Cindy, young daughter Meghan and a babysitter, on Keating's estate at Cat Cay in the Bahamas. On several occasions, Keating flew the family down to the vacation site aboard the aircraft of his corporation, American Continental, after which McCain seemingly violated congressional rules in not promptly reimbursing the corporation.
In 1989, McCain finally paid about $13,000 to American Continental to cover the expense of his family's previously unreimbursed airfare to the island, later saying that the delay resulted merely from an oversight. But, politically speaking, the timing could hardly have been worse. By then, federal regulators had seized the savings and loan under Keating's control and news had broken of a Justice Department investigation of the S&L.
Aware of the fallout that might come from the news that he had run afoul of congressional rules in not swiftly paying his friend's company, McCain turned to his wife, who generally handled the family's household bills, in hopes that she might find canceled checks proving that the McCains had reimbursed American Continental for some, if not all, of the flights at issue.
Complicating McCain's public relations problems, stories surfaced that Cindy and her father, Jim Hensley, the owner of a successful Anheuser-Busch beer distributorship in Phoenix, had invested in a real estate deal with Keating. While McCain had played no role in their investment in an Arizona shopping center built by a subsidiary of American Continental, the deal triggered questions among reporters and Senate investigators about his motives and possible conflicts of interest.
It was a dark period. "John was deeply down," Maine senator and future defense secretary William S. Cohen remembers. "He was upset a lot of the time with himself. . . . He'd made a mistake, obviously -- mistakes of 'appearance,' as he said, in going to the meetings [with federal regulators]. . . . But something like riding on a plane with Keating: He'd never given that a second thought -- his father-in-law knew Keating, after all. He had this sense of outrage over what some people were saying about him. . . . He felt more wounded by that whole experience than anything else that had ever happened in his life. He said to me one day, 'They've inflicted more pain on me than the North Vietnamese did' -- that was the essence of it. . . . [Virginia Sen. John W.] Warner and I tried pumping him up and saying, 'You'll get through this okay; it'll be okay.' But it was hard."
During the last half of 1989, McCain turned for advice to former Arizona senator Barry Goldwater, his predecessor, with whom his relationship had experienced ups and downs. McCain sent Goldwater a private note, asking whether the legend could recommend a way to handle the Keating controversy.
Goldwater, who had been reluctant to issue a public defense of McCain, was characteristically blunt, offering a bit of encouragement but little else. "I've been wracking my brain to come up with some advice to give you, but frankly, I can't find any," he wrote in a letter to McCain, a copy of which is in the Goldwater Papers collection at the Arizona Historical Foundation. "My suggestion is, sort of lay off it, you've explained it to everyone who would listen, and now I think your job is to get a hell of a lot of work done for Arizona that will stand out more predominantly, than what has happened to you with Mr. Keating. That's about it, John. Work your ass off. . . . I think you can do it."
By then, Keating's Lincoln Savings and Loan had collapsed under crushing debt, to be taken over by the federal government, which covered Lincoln's losses at a cost of about $3 billion to American taxpayers. More than 20,000 bondholders had lost more than $200 million in savings. The outspoken critics of Keating's five senatorial friends had grown to include some of the regulators from the Federal Home Loan Bank Board whose initial concerns about Keating had gone unheeded.
Before the ethics committee hearings even began in late 1989, the regulators leveled accusations of improper conduct against the five senators, who had accepted a total of more than $1.3 million in campaign money from Keating. At the start of the hearings, the senators sat dourly alongside one another in a long row, a visual suggestive of co-defendants in a rogues' docket.
That image and the words "taxpayers' billions" had a damning effect: Although some of the targeted senators had yet to see it, three of them -- Democrats Dennis DeConcini of Arizona, Alan Cranston of California and Donald W. Riegle Jr. of Michigan -- were already effectively finished in electoral politics, never again to run for public office. The committee determined in 1991 that the three had improperly interfered with the bank board's investigation of Lincoln, with Cranston receiving a sharply worded reprimand. The committee exonerated the fourth Democratic senator involved, Ohio's John Glenn, a revered former astronaut who had taken $200,000 in contributions from Keating. But while Glenn would win reelection once more, his career was never quite the same, the committee concluding that he had exercised "poor judgment" in meeting with regulators at Keating's behest.
It was the same decision that the panel reached about McCain. But, though the committee treated McCain and Glenn identically, their political fates could scarcely have been more different. Among the five senators, only McCain's career genuinely recovered -- and eventually thrived -- in the wake of the crisis.
'I Freely Admit My Errors'
Two days after the strategy meeting in his Washington office, McCain appeared at the Phoenix Sheraton Hotel before a thicket of cameras and Arizona reporters. Victoria Clarke planted herself a few feet away, and McCain told her to rub her nose if he sounded like he was on the verge of losing his temper.
McCain read from a prepared text that Jay Smith had helped to draft. "I will stand here and take your questions for as long as you have them," he told the media. "Anything you want to ask me."
A disarming speech followed, which included a swift admission: "I am not going to stand here and tell you -- or have the attitude -- that everything I have done is above reproach and without fault. Was I sufficiently sensitive to the appearance some of my actions were creating? Maybe not.
"I freely admit my errors. . . . I committed an error by not reimbursing American Continental for my travel on their corporate aircraft at the time of the travel, which members of Congress are required to do. This was wrong. I can honestly tell you that I did not do this intentionally. I had assumed all along that payment for the trips had been made. . . . John McCain may have made some poor judgments. But I have never used my office to aid any individual improperly."
McCain explained what had given him confidence in Keating's operations, citing written assurances from some of the financial world's sacred cows, including Alan Greenspan -- who in the years before becoming the Federal Reserve Board chairman, had served as a consultant to Keating -- and what was then known as Arthur Young & Co., one of the Big Eight accounting firms. And while the speech skirted over an issue of earlier letters McCain wrote to the Reagan White House in support of Keating's efforts to reduce federal restrictions impeding his investment plans, his implicit message was clear: Even the sharpies had been fooled by Keating -- there was plenty of fault to go around.
He quoted a Greenspan testimonial about Lincoln Savings and Loan's operations during the Fed chairman's days as a Keating adviser: " 'I believe that Lincoln . . . has demonstrated that it has the adequate capitalization, sound business plans, managerial expertise and the proper diversification to which the Board refers.' "
After the speech, McCain calmly answered questions until there were no more.
It was, even in the judgment of critics, a bravura performance. The Arizona Republic newspaper, which had earlier viewed McCain's Keating-related comments as defensive and unseemly, signaled its approval: "He freely owned up to error and carelessness, refused to blame his staff, and left the news conference with his reputation intact." The Republic's sister paper, the Phoenix Gazette, noted that he had checked his fury at the door.
The McCain team's public relations onslaught had just begun. Over the next six weeks, the senator became ubiquitous on TV news shows and in major publications, granting interviews to 21 media giants that included the three major networks' evening news shows, The Washington Post, the New York Times, Time magazine, PBS's "The MacNeil-Lehrer Newshour," and ABC's "Nightline" and "This Week With David Brinkley."
"It wouldn't be successful if he was seen as ducking somebody . . . so he talked to virtually everybody," Smith remembers. It worked. Commentators and even some of the Federal Home Loan Bank Board regulators praised McCain for talking openly about his mistakes. By then, the subject of his apologies had grown to include his simple presence at the Keating Five meetings. In a November 1989 interview with PBS's Roger Mudd, he declared: "The appearance of five senators meeting with one regulator is clearly . . . wrong. . . . I made mistakes, and serious ones. But I did not abuse the power of my office."
In denying having done anything unethical while repeatedly emphasizing his regret about the "appearance" of having made a mistake, McCain was gambling that voters would discern a distinction. Seeing the risk in the strategy, Mudd observed that it was a "roll of the dice." McCain, he said, "has fully thrown himself on the mercy of public opinion."
McCain acknowledged he had troubles, observing that he was caught in the "crisis of my political life."
"Think you'll survive it?" Mudd asked.
"I hope so," McCain said.
Toward the end of the PBS report, in what became a pattern during his television appearances, McCain received a favorable nod from the commentator. "John McCain has been the only one talking," Mudd told viewers. "The other four senators who are involved . . . all have been following a policy of stonewalling the press."
The flattering contrast emerged as a familiar media refrain in the days ahead, politically deadly to the four silent senators but a boost to McCain's political resurrection. When John Glenn finally began speaking publicly about the controversy, he avoided expressing any McCain-like regrets, steadfastly insisting upon his forthrightness, though sounding defensive in the process: "I never acted in a more ethical, moral and legal way in my life," he said.
By then, after weeks of interviews, McCain had changed from being a once little-known junior senator from Arizona to a national media favorite, appreciated for his admissions and unpredictable candor about the Keating mess. Even Edwin J. Gray, the chairman of the Federal Home Loan Bank Board, who had felt unduly pressured by the five senators at the first meeting about Keating, singled out the senator who kept issuing the same qualified mea culpa. "In the case of Senator McCain, he is the one who has apologized -- he said [that five senators meeting with the regulators] was wrong, basically," Gray said. "And I think he deserves a lot of credit for that."
Back in Washington, DeConcini, who would later decide against seeking election in 1994, took note of McCain's rise from the dead.
"John did some smart political things, in retrospect," DeConcini says. "He went back to Arizona, admitted to some mistakes of judgment; that was shrewd. . . . He didn't take an aggressive position like I did, and like Riegle and Cranston did in fighting. . . . Maybe I should have admitted to some mistakes in judgment in some way. . . . And perhaps I should have called Greenspan and spoken out about Greenspan's support [of Keating] like McCain did [in his press conference]. But my staff talked me out of it. . . . John benefited from doing some smart things."
Birth of Campaign Reform for McCain
In response to questions from television anchormen, the chastened McCain seized the mantle of a new cause. "I am all for campaign finance reform," he said in late 1989 on "Nightline." "I think it will come over time. I think it will take impetus."
"That was the birth of campaign reform for McCain," Jay Smith later observed.
No one close to McCain could remember him ever talking about the subject before. But with the fallout from the Keating scandal receding, and his priorities changing, the great reception he was receiving from pundits and television interviewers emboldened him. Over the next year, he linked the ills of campaign finance scandals to excessive government spending, arguing that one led to the other. He began excoriating pork-barrel spending and earmarks. It was all part of a package of reforms being pushed by a new brand of Republican crusader.
"He'd never really talked about earmarks either before Keating," Smith recalls. "His new message was, number one: The status quo is unacceptable. . . . He'd known he was going to be exonerated [by the Senate ethics committee], but he also knew that . . . there was still this appearance of impropriety out there for some people. . . . . He'd had no real reason until then to pay attention to issues like campaign finance. . . . I first heard him talk at length about reform during his 1992 reelection campaign."
For the senator once regarded as a reliable party man, the moment marked the beginning of his subtle shift away from the orthodoxy of his party's establishment, his first steps toward staking out a reformist agenda that would at once begin to distance him from Keating while inexorably creating a rift between him and powerful Republicans who resented the casting of the issue as a moral litmus test. Sens. Mitch McConnell and Trent Lott maneuvered to derail a series of McCain attempts to change campaign financing rules, and for the first time, some Republicans and conservative pundits openly talked of the irritant that McCain was becoming.
But an ever more defiant McCain, having hitched his star to his reformer image, had made campaign finance a cause by then. After several failures to overcome Republican opposition, McCain and Democratic Sen. Russell Feingold of Wisconsin managed to win congressional approval of their campaign finance reform legislation in 2002. Best known as McCain-Feingold, the bill's most important provision banned unlimited and unregulated "soft money" contributions from individuals, corporations and labor unions to federal candidates and national political parties.
Its passage served to remind admirers and foes alike of McCain's outsider status. Some Republicans approved of it only grudgingly. President Bush expressed discomfort with parts of McCain-Feingold, but he signed it into law, which the Supreme Court upheld a year later.
Long before then, the specter of Keating and the scandal that threatened his career had been flipped to McCain's advantage, setting in motion a political climb that cast him as reformer, a maverick, a national figure and, eventually, a presidential contender in 2000. His campaign bus, the Straight Talk Express, would become the rolling symbol of his new identity.
"There was no doubt that campaign finance and being a maverick was a direct result of all that had happened to him," Cohen observes. "John wanted to see some changes, and people were suddenly listening to him, though not every Republican was always pleased with what they heard. John was not always a party guy, but I liked it. Many people liked it."
Costly Clashes
The Keating episode, and his crusade for campaign finance reform, set in motion a decade-long odyssey for McCain -- it saw him beset by seemingly crushing setbacks even as he steadily built for himself a winning image as a fierce and recalcitrant rebel. It propelled him as a national force even as it stiffened the opposition to him among conservatives.
That he had no definable political ideology made it easier to acquire the image of a reformer and iconoclast; he was answerable to nothing and no one in the largest sense. Unbound by a philosophy and so largely immune to charges of inconsistency, McCain's political outlook could afford to be thoroughly malleable, guided only by his instincts.
His acolytes touted him as a renegade who placed country above party and special interests -- just the right leader to reclaim the White House for Republicans, they argued. But, during the 1990s, his maverick image increasingly complicated his presidential ambitions. For every party leader who admired his independence, there was another prominent Republican voicing disdain for his go-it-alone style. Congressional Republicans who had done battle with him on campaign-finance and other issues made no secret of their opposition to him as a possible presidential candidate, and back home in Arizona, several key Republicans chafed against what they regarded as his attempts to dictate their political moves.
Even people who had stood by him since his earliest political days began abandoning him, sometimes not because of his reformist impulses but simply because his demanding nature so hurt or alienated them. He would expect fealty and they would say no. The crusader still sometimes exhibited his old prodigious temper, losing his cool behind closed doors with Republicans reluctant to do what he wanted, especially in Arizona. Their ranks included several of his longtime allies and key friends, whose estrangement he couldn't politically afford. In time, the widespread disaffection would spark the second crisis of his career, though he couldn't see the trouble brewing in the late 1990s, so busily was he preparing for his 2000 presidential run.
He had already suffered a falling out with his former top congressional aide in Arizona, Grant Woods, long viewed as his alter ego, a man who had begun to stake out his own promising future in Republican politics. Seen by many Arizonan observers as a reformer in the McCain image, Woods had risen to become Arizona's attorney general, a position from which, in the 1990s, he began investigating the state's Republican governor, Fife Symington, who would eventually be driven from office because of allegations of a financial scandal. As Woods recounts, a livid McCain asked him, "What the hell are you doing?"
"I've gotta do what I've gotta do," Woods remembers responding.
McCain made it clear that he didn't want him investigating a fellow Republican, Woods recalls. When Woods persisted, and defied McCain on a series of other issues, their relationship ended, with Woods shut out of McCain's inner circle. "It was kind of a military thing to him, a chain-of-command thing," Woods says. "I didn't follow the commands. He's a military guy, and you're supposed to salute the guy ahead of you on the command chart, and I wasn't saluting."
Perhaps the most costly clash for McCain came with Republican Jane Hull, who succeeded Symington as governor. As Woods and Smith remember, McCain never had forgiven Hull for supporting one of his Republican primary rivals during his first congressional race in 1982. "Dumb as a tree," he privately said of Hull, who, according to associates close to her, heard about McCain's insults from others and argued vociferously with him on occasions when she felt that his demands infringed on her prerogatives as governor.
McCain's grudge against Hull had long baffled Woods, who years earlier had urged his old boss to bury his contempt. "I would say to him, 'Why do you even care, John?' " Woods remembers. " 'You're talking about something that happened back in '82.' But John cared. I thought it was pretty petty and ludicrous. . . . He didn't show her the proper respect at times. I told him, 'If you don't stop doing this, you're going to have the same amount of supporters 20 years from now as you do today -- you won't add anybody.' " Woods warned McCain of the danger of alienating any prominent Arizona Republican. "It made absolutely no sense for him to keep doing it to somebody like Jane Hull. She was a strong personality herself, and she was a fellow governor of George W. Bush. And we saw what happened with that."
What happened was that, one afternoon in 1999, without warning McCain, Hull stunned the Republican political establishment by announcing her support of Bush for the 2000 presidential nomination. The moment marked the start of a new crisis. A series of other notable Arizona party operatives whom McCain had offended over the years followed Hull's lead.
Then, former congressman John Rhodes, a onetime House Republican leader whose seat McCain had captured in his first political race after Rhodes retired, issued his own endorsement of Bush, trying to soften the rejection for McCain by declaring he would support his fellow Arizonan for any office except the presidency.
Word of Arizona's disaffection toward its not-so-favorite son had spread. After he upset Bush in the New Hampshire primary, the nomination battle for McCain hinged on winning the South Carolina primary. Both the Bush and McCain forces waged fierce campaigns, with McCain irate over an anonymous smear effort alleging, among other things, that he had fathered a mixed-race child.
McCain questioned Bush's integrity and intellect. But nothing he did could stop his sliding fortunes, a trend that grew worse amid a push against him by leading Christian conservatives enamored of Bush and skeptical of McCain's commitment to their social causes. After losing South Carolina, McCain bitterly lashed out at them, referring to ministers Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell, a co-founder of the Moral Majority, as "agents of intolerance." It was an act of political self-immolation. His campaign was finished.
The Downside of Ferocity
The Keating nightmare had infused McCain with tenacity and moral indignation. But it had taught him little, if anything, about patience and reconciliation. His old anger still competed with his new reformist politics for the attention of the public, the media and his colleagues.
The quandary had been a lifelong problem. More than 40 years earlier, his father, Jack McCain, had sought to lecture him, over lunch near the Naval Academy, on the importance of staying calm and not self-destructing when dealing with foes, especially those in superior military positions. The young rebel was fuming that afternoon again about a company commander whom he had come to regard as a mean-spirited, vindictive disgrace. His father, once a young renegade himself at the academy, but now a politically astute officer on his way to becoming a four-star admiral, warned him against taking on authority, preaching the merits of patience. McCain kept arguing the point with his father, refusing to back down. His war with Capt. R.G. Hunt, and half a century of more Hunts, would continue.
McCain's steel and ferocity had served him well at different points in his life -- in hostile schoolyards, in tough bars and in the Senate, when he was caught in the Keating fires and later in pushing campaign-finance reform. But all along, the ferocity had its downside, too, and five decades after his father's warnings, aware that he had no other choice if he ever wanted to capture the White House, the rebel at last embraced accommodation.
Although tensions between his office and the Bush White House remained, the newly accommodating McCain frequently lent the president his high-profile support and painstakingly emphasized, before conservative audiences, that he voted with him on the vast majority of issues. He gave full-throated support to the controversial Bush tax cuts, after first calling them unfair. He hugged the president at White House photo ops when Bush's poll numbers were falling and the administration was in need of all the political cover it could get.
By 2006, McCain had publicly set aside another longstanding grudge, delivering a commencement address at Liberty University and receiving a hug from another old antagonist, the university's co-founder Jerry Falwell, who died last year. His disinterest in ideology, his trust in his instincts and his comfort with the improvisational style of his own politics was proving successful in helping him make friends of former foes.
On his way to the 2008 nomination, McCain adroitly built a new coalition of Republican conservatives and moderates. As the general campaign has worn on, his nimbleness has not come without occasional costs, as some Republicans have joined Democrats in arguing that he has embraced new positions with an alarming alacrity, such as during the Wall Street bailout crisis, when his stances evolved almost daily, incorporating elements of both well-worn conservative and liberal dogmas.
But he might never have been here in the first place, so close to his dream, without having realized the benefits of all his accommodations, large and small, over the past eight years. "My father kind of gave McCain an unofficial endorsement when they finally got together," remembers Falwell's elder son, Jerry Falwell Jr. "He thought McCain would be the nominee in 2008. I think both of them discovered that they had some real personal chemistry, some real things in common. They were both mavericks, after all."
The moment represented just one more in a long line of conciliatory gestures from McCain, who was anxiously reaching out, sometimes with the help of surrogates, to soothe old enemies. Jane Hull was aboard the campaign now. And Grant Woods. And most of John Rhodes's longtime allies, too. In reaching for command, his father's way had become his own.
What happened to American Jobs?
Job Losses Accelerate, Signaling Deeper Distress
Washington Post Staff Writers
Thursday, October 23, 2008; Page A01
Employers are moving to aggressively cut jobs and reduce costs in the face of the nation's economic crisis, preparing for what many fear will be a long and painful recession.
The labor market has been weak all year, with a slow drip of workers losing their jobs each month. But the deterioration of the job market is now emerging as a driver of economic distress, according to a wide range of data and anecdotal reports from corporate America.
In September, there were more mass layoffs -- instances in which employers slashed 50 or more jobs at one time -- than in any month since September 2001, the Labor Department said yesterday. And nearly half a million Americans have filed new claims for unemployment benefits in each of the past four weeks, the highest rate of such claims since just after the terrorist attacks seven years ago.
Anecdotal reports suggest that the hemorrhaging in the job market has only begun. Companies that announced plans this week to cut jobs include Internet company Yahoo (1,500 positions), pharmaceutical company Merck (7,200), National City bank (4,000) and Comcast, the cable company (300).
The weakening employment outlook is part of the reason that investors have become more fearful of a deep, prolonged recession -- fears that led to yet another miserable day on Wall Street yesterday, with the Dow Jones industrial average down 514 points, or 5.7 percent.
"The customers I've spoken to are all living under a sense of fear," said Paul Villella, chief executive of HireStrategy, a Reston company that matches employers and workers. "They have very limited visibility into the future and have a great degree of uncertainty, so they just want to sit steady and be conservative in hiring."
Villella and others who work with employers said that for many companies, the pullback in hiring is not a direct result of tightening credit. Rather, firms simply don't know whether their own customers will be affected by the financial crisis; as a result, they want to hold their breath and delay hiring decisions until they have a better sense of the future.
The nation has shed jobs every month this year, but at a slower overall pace than in past economic downturns. The slide accelerated in late summer, with declines similar to those in past recessions. Last month, employers shed 159,000 jobs, the most this year and more than the average number of monthly job losses in the terrible labor markets of 2001 and 2002.
More obscure indicators monitored by economists at the Federal Reserve and in the private sector also show an inflection point in late summer. For example, employers had 214,000 fewer job openings in August than in July, according to a Labor Department report. Over the past year, the number of openings dropped by a more modest average of 74,000 per month.
Indeed, many companies are imposing hiring freezes. Such moves don't often get the kind of headlines that layoffs do, but because they shrink the number of places people can turn to for jobs, they still hurt the economy.
VMware, a Palo Alto, Calif., software company, is one firm that has curbed hiring. Earlier this week, after reporting third-quarter earnings that beat Wall Street's expectations, VMware told analysts on a conference call that despite a 32 percent jump in revenue, a "hiring pause" had been imposed for all jobs except critical ones.
"We are just being conservative," VMware spokeswoman Mary Ann Gallo said yesterday.
The nation's unemployment rate was 6.1 percent last month, not astronomical by historical standards. But the rate was up from 5 percent in April, and many forecasters now expect it to hit 7 percent or more by the end of this downturn.
The construction and manufacturing sectors have been losing jobs for more than a year. But lately, job losses have begun or accelerated in a wide range of other fields. Retailers, stung by less consumer spending, cut 87,000 jobs in the three months ended in September. Employment services shed 100,000 positions in that span, reflecting the fact that companies are slashing temporary jobs. The leisure and hospitality industry cut 51,000 jobs, as people had less money to stay in hotels and eat in restaurants.
In the greater Los Angeles area, Manpower, one of the nation's largest temp agencies, has noticed a steady increase in job seekers since early September. Paul Holley, a spokesman for the company, said there are more applicants for fewer openings and better-qualified candidates seeking work.
What's particularly noteworthy, Holley said, is what's happening in Phoenix. Job applications have held steady, but since September more applicants have had backgrounds in general labor and warehouse distribution. That's unusual because warehouse and logistics jobs usually hold steady in the fall to support retailing for holiday shopping.
Randstad USA, another large temp agency, reports that job applications are up in the Tucson area and that the firm is even getting inquires from people who still have jobs. "In general, a lot of people seem to be insecure about their current jobs even if they are still employed," said Emily Cline, Randstad's area vice president for Tucson.
As reports of layoffs continue to pile up around the country, executives at Randstad said they have noticed a shift in psychology among job seekers.
"Employees are much more willing to work extra hours and to take on additional duties to enhance job security and improve their employability," said Eric Buntin, managing director for marketing and operations at Randstad. "In a changing market, they know that's a valuable resource."
They are also willing to make less money, even as the cost of living goes up. Cline said some call center jobs that were paying $9 an hour in the Tucson area last year are now paying $8.50. "Their option becomes to take the job or not have the job," she said.
With workers losing their leverage to negotiate raises, there could be greater downward pressure on wages, which in turn could drive down overall economic growth. Workers are already having a hard time getting raises; inflation-adjusted pay for non-managerial workers fell 1.9 percent in the year ended in September, according to the Labor Department.
Staff writer Michael A. Fletcher in Cleveland contributed to this report.
Washington Post Staff Writers
Thursday, October 23, 2008; Page A01
Employers are moving to aggressively cut jobs and reduce costs in the face of the nation's economic crisis, preparing for what many fear will be a long and painful recession.
The labor market has been weak all year, with a slow drip of workers losing their jobs each month. But the deterioration of the job market is now emerging as a driver of economic distress, according to a wide range of data and anecdotal reports from corporate America.
In September, there were more mass layoffs -- instances in which employers slashed 50 or more jobs at one time -- than in any month since September 2001, the Labor Department said yesterday. And nearly half a million Americans have filed new claims for unemployment benefits in each of the past four weeks, the highest rate of such claims since just after the terrorist attacks seven years ago.
Anecdotal reports suggest that the hemorrhaging in the job market has only begun. Companies that announced plans this week to cut jobs include Internet company Yahoo (1,500 positions), pharmaceutical company Merck (7,200), National City bank (4,000) and Comcast, the cable company (300).
The weakening employment outlook is part of the reason that investors have become more fearful of a deep, prolonged recession -- fears that led to yet another miserable day on Wall Street yesterday, with the Dow Jones industrial average down 514 points, or 5.7 percent.
"The customers I've spoken to are all living under a sense of fear," said Paul Villella, chief executive of HireStrategy, a Reston company that matches employers and workers. "They have very limited visibility into the future and have a great degree of uncertainty, so they just want to sit steady and be conservative in hiring."
Villella and others who work with employers said that for many companies, the pullback in hiring is not a direct result of tightening credit. Rather, firms simply don't know whether their own customers will be affected by the financial crisis; as a result, they want to hold their breath and delay hiring decisions until they have a better sense of the future.
The nation has shed jobs every month this year, but at a slower overall pace than in past economic downturns. The slide accelerated in late summer, with declines similar to those in past recessions. Last month, employers shed 159,000 jobs, the most this year and more than the average number of monthly job losses in the terrible labor markets of 2001 and 2002.
More obscure indicators monitored by economists at the Federal Reserve and in the private sector also show an inflection point in late summer. For example, employers had 214,000 fewer job openings in August than in July, according to a Labor Department report. Over the past year, the number of openings dropped by a more modest average of 74,000 per month.
Indeed, many companies are imposing hiring freezes. Such moves don't often get the kind of headlines that layoffs do, but because they shrink the number of places people can turn to for jobs, they still hurt the economy.
VMware, a Palo Alto, Calif., software company, is one firm that has curbed hiring. Earlier this week, after reporting third-quarter earnings that beat Wall Street's expectations, VMware told analysts on a conference call that despite a 32 percent jump in revenue, a "hiring pause" had been imposed for all jobs except critical ones.
"We are just being conservative," VMware spokeswoman Mary Ann Gallo said yesterday.
The nation's unemployment rate was 6.1 percent last month, not astronomical by historical standards. But the rate was up from 5 percent in April, and many forecasters now expect it to hit 7 percent or more by the end of this downturn.
The construction and manufacturing sectors have been losing jobs for more than a year. But lately, job losses have begun or accelerated in a wide range of other fields. Retailers, stung by less consumer spending, cut 87,000 jobs in the three months ended in September. Employment services shed 100,000 positions in that span, reflecting the fact that companies are slashing temporary jobs. The leisure and hospitality industry cut 51,000 jobs, as people had less money to stay in hotels and eat in restaurants.
In the greater Los Angeles area, Manpower, one of the nation's largest temp agencies, has noticed a steady increase in job seekers since early September. Paul Holley, a spokesman for the company, said there are more applicants for fewer openings and better-qualified candidates seeking work.
What's particularly noteworthy, Holley said, is what's happening in Phoenix. Job applications have held steady, but since September more applicants have had backgrounds in general labor and warehouse distribution. That's unusual because warehouse and logistics jobs usually hold steady in the fall to support retailing for holiday shopping.
Randstad USA, another large temp agency, reports that job applications are up in the Tucson area and that the firm is even getting inquires from people who still have jobs. "In general, a lot of people seem to be insecure about their current jobs even if they are still employed," said Emily Cline, Randstad's area vice president for Tucson.
As reports of layoffs continue to pile up around the country, executives at Randstad said they have noticed a shift in psychology among job seekers.
"Employees are much more willing to work extra hours and to take on additional duties to enhance job security and improve their employability," said Eric Buntin, managing director for marketing and operations at Randstad. "In a changing market, they know that's a valuable resource."
They are also willing to make less money, even as the cost of living goes up. Cline said some call center jobs that were paying $9 an hour in the Tucson area last year are now paying $8.50. "Their option becomes to take the job or not have the job," she said.
With workers losing their leverage to negotiate raises, there could be greater downward pressure on wages, which in turn could drive down overall economic growth. Workers are already having a hard time getting raises; inflation-adjusted pay for non-managerial workers fell 1.9 percent in the year ended in September, according to the Labor Department.
Staff writer Michael A. Fletcher in Cleveland contributed to this report.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
"...the greatest destruction of wealth in our history..."
I just have a question with this analysis: Where is FRAUD mentioned?
Everyone is haunted by the fear our financial crisis might unwind into something like the Great Depression. The world of finance is undergoing a hundred-year storm. It has inflicted the greatest destruction of wealth in our history. It swept away giant blue-chip financial firms, in a few months, even in a few days of fear, panic, and mistrust, that had made it through the Great Depression. It's turned out worse than the most pessimistic of us imagined.
Most critically, the financial world is seized by a collapse of confidence. The uncertainty over the value of the securities they hold has led to an enormous risk aversion. Customers, creditors, and shareholders of the major financial firms wonder whether they might survive. Once confidence collapses, there is no telling when the selling will stop. It all brings to mind the story of the economist who walked past a hundred dollar bill and didn't pick it up. When asked why, he responded, "It can't be a hundred dollar bill for, if it were, somebody else would have picked it up by now."
All of this has produced an unprecedented credit squeeze in which banks are refusing to lend to other banks, much less to businesses and individuals. This squeeze has had a particular impact on the newly unregulated emergent shadow banking system made up of mortgage lenders, investment banks, broker-dealers, hedge funds, private equity funds, money market funds, structured investment vehicles and conduits. Many of these names we have never heard of before but cumulatively, they now provide a majority of America's financing. They are not banks but they act and seem like banks. They borrow short and invest long, mostly in illiquid securities; they have more debt in relation to equity than banks but have lacked, until recently, both deposit insurance and the support of the Federal Reserve as the "lender of last resort." They do not have deposits but have relied on roll-over, short-term funding obtained through borrowing in the money markets that has left these firms vulnerable to disruptions in the money markets. To the extent that they have bundled these investments into securities that were sold to the markets, they were are also vulnerable to mark to market losses when these markets, or their securities, start falling.
This quickly wiped out the banks' capital base and ended their roll-over funding. The functioning of the credit markets was brought to a virtual halt. Even worse, there is a quiet run on hedge funds and private equity funds ongoing that threatens to bring the shadow banking system to its knees. Now the question is whether this will produce an economic contraction on Main Street comparable to the Great Depression.
The inescapable bad news is that a serious recession is inevitable given the damage to the financial sector, as well as in the degree to which business and the general public has been traumatized by collapsing stock prices and the daily headlines. But this does not mean we are bound to have a spiraling recessionary dynamic comparable to the thirties. The unprecedented debt American families and businesses have assumed will continue to constrain the easing of the credit crunch. But we have avoided some of the mistakes of 1929.
Take monetary policy. This time the Treasury and the Federal Reserve moved quickly and positively. They understood that when banks lose money they have to shrink their balance sheets and since bank assets are its loans, this would mean a drastic reduction in credit and worsening business conditions. The Fed has sought to ease the credit crunch by injecting over $1.5 trillion into the financial system and, most recently, added another $250 billion directly into the banks to re-liquefy them, plus increasing deposit insurance, extending it to money market funds, aggressively lowering interest rates and, importantly, doing that in concert with the other major economic powers.
In the early 1930s, the Fed refused credit to bankers and forced more and more of them to sell assets in a frantic dash for liquidity. Some 10,000 commercial banks, or 40%, failed between 1929 and 1933 compared to only 20 this time. Many people back then stopped using checks and conducted transactions in cash. The money supply declined by more than a third, creating a major contraction of credit.
The contrast in fiscal policy is equally dramatic. A generation of economists inspired by John Maynard Keynes in the 1930s taught us that the government should not try to run a balanced budget in a crisis of demand, as both Hoover and Roosevelt did. This time the government is running a $500 billion deficit to stimulate demand, and next year it will exceed $1 trillion. Orthodox adherence to the gold standard in the thirties didn't help, compared to a free floating US dollar today that has declined by 16% on a trade weighted basis. Another critical fiscal difference is that the federal government today has more sway. It makes up 21% of GDP compared to just 3% in 1929. On top of this a large component of GDP is devoted to health and education that is substantially decoupled from the problems of the private sector, not to mention that the Social Security program adopted in 1935 today provides unemployment benefits. All these contribute to maintaining the real economy.
Finally, we haven't repeated the great blunder of Hoover's 1930 Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act. It raised duties on some 20,000 foreign goods, causing many other countries to retaliate, reducing world trade by two-thirds. Now growing exports have been a major plus for our economy - something the protectionists in the Democratic Party need to remember.
Since virtually none of the necessary programs to counter the decline were implemented between 1929 and 1933. By the time FDR took over, the economic entrenchment had begun to feed on itself and turned a serious recession into the decade of the Great Depression. The reaction this time was virtually instantaneous.
All to the good, but there's also an "all to the bad" element in our present predicament. Americans are incredibly indebted. Household debt rose from about 50% of a $3 trillion GDP in 1980 to over 100% of a $13 trillion GDP today. The debts of the financial world, which amounted to 21% of GDP in 1980, soared to 120% of GDP by 2007. The financial world's unprecedented accumulation of debt in relation to equity sometimes with over $30 of debt for every $1 of equity means that small variations in their asset values, which once produced profits, have now brought them huge losses.
Much of this debt takes the form of securities and derivatives that remain on their balance sheets. In fact, another systemic risk and one that cannot be measured is based on the opacity and complexity of these exotic securities, mainly credit default swaps and derivatives that remain mainly on unknown financial balance sheets in amounts that exceed $50 trillion. The financial risk and exposure to loss is misunderstood and underestimated even by the credit agencies so the ensuing financial damage could be of a magnitude that could threaten the financial system.
AIG is a classic example of the inability to estimate the exposure. Management first estimated they would need $40 billion to get past their financial crisis; the government increased this to $85 billion; and within thirty days the cost had soared to $121 billion. Lehman is another example. When it went bankrupt, they had to unwind the credit insurance on Lehman, at a cost that has just been revealed to exceed $360 billion, an amount unrecognized by the Treasury when Lehman went under. These kinds of staggering losses could be multiplied many times over by defaults in cascading derivatives.
Then there is the housing bust. The current crisis in housing has an important history. When the Fed tried to respond to the dot.com bust in the year 2000 and 2001, that is when the Internet bubble burst, littering the country with bankruptcies and layoffs -- not to speak of investor losses of more than $1 trillion -- the Fed rapidly increased the money supply to offset these losses and slashed short-term interest rates to 1%, the lowest in 45 years. The result was the greatest housing boom this country had ever encountered. From 2002 to 2006 housing values appreciated at the astonishing rate of 16% per year compared to only 3% for the 55 years between 1945 and the year 2000. We finally came to the point where it was impossible for the typical American family to buy an average priced house using a conventional 30-year mortgage.
The response to this was an explosion of new mortgage products that enticed home buyers into supporting escalating housing prices while reducing their financial requirements. The need for the traditional 20% down payment was eliminated. Then we had interest only loans, low- or no-doc "liar loans," piggyback home-equity loans, as the mortgage and banking industries made it possible for anyone, even without a credit score, to purchase a home. These mortgages were packaged into complex financial products and sold on to other investors, many of whom had no idea what they were buying or the associated risks.
Then the housing bubble burst. Housing prices have dropped roughly 20% and the decline is continuing. Plummeting house prices mean more foreclosures, more homes on the glutted marketplace and a further house-price slump. There are 12 million homes today with negative equity where the mortgage exceeds the home's value and it may rise to 15 million over the next few months. As many as half of them have mortgages that now exceed the value of the homes by over 20%. If half these people drop the keys in a box and walk away, the losses will be in the trillions and may well destroy the equity in our banking system. That is why it is critical to find ways to keep foreclosures to a minimum. The entire attempt to re-liquefy the financial system could be undermined by this collapse in housing prices.
These are substantial threats and for all the measures (belatedly taken) distrust remains. American policymakers have seemed to be responding at an ad hoc, unfocused fashion, not fully taking into account the looming insolvency issues and the frightening complexity of the bundles of exotic securities. It is fair to acknowledge that they've been dealing with a crisis on a scale not seen before, and one that unfolded with terrifying speed. But the fact remains that by the time they acted, measures that might have re-stabilized the markets were ineffective. Robert Brusca of FAO Economics, captured it well when he said, "There is sense that if policymakers were surfers, they would have missed every wave."
Lehman's bankruptcy is a case study in government ineptitude. It was the $785 million of losses on Lehman's securities that pushed the value of the assets of a major money market firm below their $1 per share paid value, described as "breaking the buck." This caused $400 billion to be taken out of money market funds in a matter of days, while the rest of the funds were frozen in anticipation of further withdrawals. Banks were relying heavily on these funds for their commercial paper and the result was a spiral of illiquidity. The Lehman decision prompted the following from the French Minister of Finance, "Horrendous!" an assessment echoed by many others.
It remains puzzling that our Treasury officials did not foresee that the Lehman failure would not be just another failure, but a catastrophic failure undermining faith in the system. After Lehman, all remaining trust vanished in the financial world. Money market and interbank lending froze virtually completely. The spread on credit default swaps rose to levels that caused fear and speculation.
This mistake was followed by the Treasury scheme to buy toxic mortgage-backed securities. It was a flawed approach from day one. If the government bought them at a price above market and thus provided a huge bailout of Wall Street, it would have caused a political upheaval for it would have been seen to rescue them from the consequences of their misjudgment and greed. But if the government bought at current market prices financial firms would take enormous write-offs. In turn that would dramatically damage their balance sheets and force them to freeze their lending, the exact opposite of the purpose of this program.
Alas, the necessary defeat in Congress of Bailout Mark 1 was followed by Bailout Mark 2, purchased from politicians at the cost of a wholly unjustified $120 billion in additional pork barrel tax benefits.
The wiser approach, now adopted by the Treasury, but long advocated by economists and privately favored by Fed Chief Bernanke, according to the New York Times, has been for the government to invest in preferred stock in banks. This stock, convertible into common stocks if the companies later do well, is a much better deal for the taxpayer and assigns the sifting of the toxic assets to the system that created them.
What next?
Here are some proposals:
1. We must have a quick and efficient way to sustain more banks with capital injections, not just the major banks, using appropriate information gathered by bank supervisors.
2. We need to expand the definition of banks to extend appropriate regulatory regimes to the shadow banking system.
3. We will have to oblige the newly defined banking system to build up equity capital when their lending is expanding, for financial busts too often follow credit booms.
4. We must establish a standard for risk management and risk assessment covering mortgages, derivatives, debt, and even equity and especially on new financial instruments.
5. The Fed will have to continue to guarantee interbank borrowing by banks eligible for recapitalization to reactivate the interbank lending market and reduce abnormally high rates of interest on loans that float above the LIBOR interbank rate.
6. If there is to be a fiscal stimulus program, it should be primarily in infrastructure and not on tax cuts: these tend to be saved and not spent (and Obama's are more of a new entitlement program to people who don't pay any tax at all)
The danger is that politicians, who have little understanding of the financial world, may draw the wrong conclusions from Wall Street follies and make the wrong decisions, as they try to revive our financial system.
We must get this right. The new administration must draft the best of our national talent into shaping and administering these new policies. Otherwise the recession will not be U-shaped and relatively short. It will be L-shaped and extend for many unnecessary years.
Everyone is haunted by the fear our financial crisis might unwind into something like the Great Depression. The world of finance is undergoing a hundred-year storm. It has inflicted the greatest destruction of wealth in our history. It swept away giant blue-chip financial firms, in a few months, even in a few days of fear, panic, and mistrust, that had made it through the Great Depression. It's turned out worse than the most pessimistic of us imagined.
Most critically, the financial world is seized by a collapse of confidence. The uncertainty over the value of the securities they hold has led to an enormous risk aversion. Customers, creditors, and shareholders of the major financial firms wonder whether they might survive. Once confidence collapses, there is no telling when the selling will stop. It all brings to mind the story of the economist who walked past a hundred dollar bill and didn't pick it up. When asked why, he responded, "It can't be a hundred dollar bill for, if it were, somebody else would have picked it up by now."
All of this has produced an unprecedented credit squeeze in which banks are refusing to lend to other banks, much less to businesses and individuals. This squeeze has had a particular impact on the newly unregulated emergent shadow banking system made up of mortgage lenders, investment banks, broker-dealers, hedge funds, private equity funds, money market funds, structured investment vehicles and conduits. Many of these names we have never heard of before but cumulatively, they now provide a majority of America's financing. They are not banks but they act and seem like banks. They borrow short and invest long, mostly in illiquid securities; they have more debt in relation to equity than banks but have lacked, until recently, both deposit insurance and the support of the Federal Reserve as the "lender of last resort." They do not have deposits but have relied on roll-over, short-term funding obtained through borrowing in the money markets that has left these firms vulnerable to disruptions in the money markets. To the extent that they have bundled these investments into securities that were sold to the markets, they were are also vulnerable to mark to market losses when these markets, or their securities, start falling.
This quickly wiped out the banks' capital base and ended their roll-over funding. The functioning of the credit markets was brought to a virtual halt. Even worse, there is a quiet run on hedge funds and private equity funds ongoing that threatens to bring the shadow banking system to its knees. Now the question is whether this will produce an economic contraction on Main Street comparable to the Great Depression.
The inescapable bad news is that a serious recession is inevitable given the damage to the financial sector, as well as in the degree to which business and the general public has been traumatized by collapsing stock prices and the daily headlines. But this does not mean we are bound to have a spiraling recessionary dynamic comparable to the thirties. The unprecedented debt American families and businesses have assumed will continue to constrain the easing of the credit crunch. But we have avoided some of the mistakes of 1929.
Take monetary policy. This time the Treasury and the Federal Reserve moved quickly and positively. They understood that when banks lose money they have to shrink their balance sheets and since bank assets are its loans, this would mean a drastic reduction in credit and worsening business conditions. The Fed has sought to ease the credit crunch by injecting over $1.5 trillion into the financial system and, most recently, added another $250 billion directly into the banks to re-liquefy them, plus increasing deposit insurance, extending it to money market funds, aggressively lowering interest rates and, importantly, doing that in concert with the other major economic powers.
In the early 1930s, the Fed refused credit to bankers and forced more and more of them to sell assets in a frantic dash for liquidity. Some 10,000 commercial banks, or 40%, failed between 1929 and 1933 compared to only 20 this time. Many people back then stopped using checks and conducted transactions in cash. The money supply declined by more than a third, creating a major contraction of credit.
The contrast in fiscal policy is equally dramatic. A generation of economists inspired by John Maynard Keynes in the 1930s taught us that the government should not try to run a balanced budget in a crisis of demand, as both Hoover and Roosevelt did. This time the government is running a $500 billion deficit to stimulate demand, and next year it will exceed $1 trillion. Orthodox adherence to the gold standard in the thirties didn't help, compared to a free floating US dollar today that has declined by 16% on a trade weighted basis. Another critical fiscal difference is that the federal government today has more sway. It makes up 21% of GDP compared to just 3% in 1929. On top of this a large component of GDP is devoted to health and education that is substantially decoupled from the problems of the private sector, not to mention that the Social Security program adopted in 1935 today provides unemployment benefits. All these contribute to maintaining the real economy.
Finally, we haven't repeated the great blunder of Hoover's 1930 Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act. It raised duties on some 20,000 foreign goods, causing many other countries to retaliate, reducing world trade by two-thirds. Now growing exports have been a major plus for our economy - something the protectionists in the Democratic Party need to remember.
Since virtually none of the necessary programs to counter the decline were implemented between 1929 and 1933. By the time FDR took over, the economic entrenchment had begun to feed on itself and turned a serious recession into the decade of the Great Depression. The reaction this time was virtually instantaneous.
All to the good, but there's also an "all to the bad" element in our present predicament. Americans are incredibly indebted. Household debt rose from about 50% of a $3 trillion GDP in 1980 to over 100% of a $13 trillion GDP today. The debts of the financial world, which amounted to 21% of GDP in 1980, soared to 120% of GDP by 2007. The financial world's unprecedented accumulation of debt in relation to equity sometimes with over $30 of debt for every $1 of equity means that small variations in their asset values, which once produced profits, have now brought them huge losses.
Much of this debt takes the form of securities and derivatives that remain on their balance sheets. In fact, another systemic risk and one that cannot be measured is based on the opacity and complexity of these exotic securities, mainly credit default swaps and derivatives that remain mainly on unknown financial balance sheets in amounts that exceed $50 trillion. The financial risk and exposure to loss is misunderstood and underestimated even by the credit agencies so the ensuing financial damage could be of a magnitude that could threaten the financial system.
AIG is a classic example of the inability to estimate the exposure. Management first estimated they would need $40 billion to get past their financial crisis; the government increased this to $85 billion; and within thirty days the cost had soared to $121 billion. Lehman is another example. When it went bankrupt, they had to unwind the credit insurance on Lehman, at a cost that has just been revealed to exceed $360 billion, an amount unrecognized by the Treasury when Lehman went under. These kinds of staggering losses could be multiplied many times over by defaults in cascading derivatives.
Then there is the housing bust. The current crisis in housing has an important history. When the Fed tried to respond to the dot.com bust in the year 2000 and 2001, that is when the Internet bubble burst, littering the country with bankruptcies and layoffs -- not to speak of investor losses of more than $1 trillion -- the Fed rapidly increased the money supply to offset these losses and slashed short-term interest rates to 1%, the lowest in 45 years. The result was the greatest housing boom this country had ever encountered. From 2002 to 2006 housing values appreciated at the astonishing rate of 16% per year compared to only 3% for the 55 years between 1945 and the year 2000. We finally came to the point where it was impossible for the typical American family to buy an average priced house using a conventional 30-year mortgage.
The response to this was an explosion of new mortgage products that enticed home buyers into supporting escalating housing prices while reducing their financial requirements. The need for the traditional 20% down payment was eliminated. Then we had interest only loans, low- or no-doc "liar loans," piggyback home-equity loans, as the mortgage and banking industries made it possible for anyone, even without a credit score, to purchase a home. These mortgages were packaged into complex financial products and sold on to other investors, many of whom had no idea what they were buying or the associated risks.
Then the housing bubble burst. Housing prices have dropped roughly 20% and the decline is continuing. Plummeting house prices mean more foreclosures, more homes on the glutted marketplace and a further house-price slump. There are 12 million homes today with negative equity where the mortgage exceeds the home's value and it may rise to 15 million over the next few months. As many as half of them have mortgages that now exceed the value of the homes by over 20%. If half these people drop the keys in a box and walk away, the losses will be in the trillions and may well destroy the equity in our banking system. That is why it is critical to find ways to keep foreclosures to a minimum. The entire attempt to re-liquefy the financial system could be undermined by this collapse in housing prices.
These are substantial threats and for all the measures (belatedly taken) distrust remains. American policymakers have seemed to be responding at an ad hoc, unfocused fashion, not fully taking into account the looming insolvency issues and the frightening complexity of the bundles of exotic securities. It is fair to acknowledge that they've been dealing with a crisis on a scale not seen before, and one that unfolded with terrifying speed. But the fact remains that by the time they acted, measures that might have re-stabilized the markets were ineffective. Robert Brusca of FAO Economics, captured it well when he said, "There is sense that if policymakers were surfers, they would have missed every wave."
Lehman's bankruptcy is a case study in government ineptitude. It was the $785 million of losses on Lehman's securities that pushed the value of the assets of a major money market firm below their $1 per share paid value, described as "breaking the buck." This caused $400 billion to be taken out of money market funds in a matter of days, while the rest of the funds were frozen in anticipation of further withdrawals. Banks were relying heavily on these funds for their commercial paper and the result was a spiral of illiquidity. The Lehman decision prompted the following from the French Minister of Finance, "Horrendous!" an assessment echoed by many others.
It remains puzzling that our Treasury officials did not foresee that the Lehman failure would not be just another failure, but a catastrophic failure undermining faith in the system. After Lehman, all remaining trust vanished in the financial world. Money market and interbank lending froze virtually completely. The spread on credit default swaps rose to levels that caused fear and speculation.
This mistake was followed by the Treasury scheme to buy toxic mortgage-backed securities. It was a flawed approach from day one. If the government bought them at a price above market and thus provided a huge bailout of Wall Street, it would have caused a political upheaval for it would have been seen to rescue them from the consequences of their misjudgment and greed. But if the government bought at current market prices financial firms would take enormous write-offs. In turn that would dramatically damage their balance sheets and force them to freeze their lending, the exact opposite of the purpose of this program.
Alas, the necessary defeat in Congress of Bailout Mark 1 was followed by Bailout Mark 2, purchased from politicians at the cost of a wholly unjustified $120 billion in additional pork barrel tax benefits.
The wiser approach, now adopted by the Treasury, but long advocated by economists and privately favored by Fed Chief Bernanke, according to the New York Times, has been for the government to invest in preferred stock in banks. This stock, convertible into common stocks if the companies later do well, is a much better deal for the taxpayer and assigns the sifting of the toxic assets to the system that created them.
What next?
Here are some proposals:
1. We must have a quick and efficient way to sustain more banks with capital injections, not just the major banks, using appropriate information gathered by bank supervisors.
2. We need to expand the definition of banks to extend appropriate regulatory regimes to the shadow banking system.
3. We will have to oblige the newly defined banking system to build up equity capital when their lending is expanding, for financial busts too often follow credit booms.
4. We must establish a standard for risk management and risk assessment covering mortgages, derivatives, debt, and even equity and especially on new financial instruments.
5. The Fed will have to continue to guarantee interbank borrowing by banks eligible for recapitalization to reactivate the interbank lending market and reduce abnormally high rates of interest on loans that float above the LIBOR interbank rate.
6. If there is to be a fiscal stimulus program, it should be primarily in infrastructure and not on tax cuts: these tend to be saved and not spent (and Obama's are more of a new entitlement program to people who don't pay any tax at all)
The danger is that politicians, who have little understanding of the financial world, may draw the wrong conclusions from Wall Street follies and make the wrong decisions, as they try to revive our financial system.
We must get this right. The new administration must draft the best of our national talent into shaping and administering these new policies. Otherwise the recession will not be U-shaped and relatively short. It will be L-shaped and extend for many unnecessary years.
Financial World Crisis! This is a great beginning to understanding this SCAM!
The Iceland Syndrome
By Anne Applebaum
Tuesday, October 21, 2008; Page A17
Imagine this scenario: In a medium-size European country -- call it Country X -- the bank regulators hold an ordinary meeting. These being extraordinary times, the regulators discuss the health of various banks, including the country's largest -- call it Bank Y -- which is owned by an even larger Italian financial group. Last spring, Bank Y, which is perfectly healthy, transferred a large sum to its now somewhat-less-healthy Italian parent; since this is nothing unusual, the regulators drop the subject and move on.
The following day, the matter is reported in a marginal, far-right newspaper in somewhat different terms: "A billion dollars transferred to Italy! Country X's hard-earned money going abroad!" Within hours, as if on cue, everyone starts selling shares in Bank Y, whose stock price plunges. So does the rest of Country X's smallish stock market. So does Country X's currency. Within a few more hours, Country X is calling for an international bailout, the IMF is on the phone and the government is wobbling.
Except for that final sentence -- there was no international bailout or call to the International Monetary Fund, and the government is fine -- that is a brief description of something that happened last week to one of Poland's largest banks. A real meeting, followed by an unsubstantiated rumor in a dodgy newspaper, and a bunch of nervous investors started selling. Shares in the bank collapsed by the largest margin in its history; for one ugly day, they dragged down the rest of the Polish stock market and currency as well.
As I say, the story ended there. But it could have gone further, and, indeed, in several other countries it has. A month ago, in the first round of this crisis, panicky rumors brought down banks. Now, with trillions of nervous dollars sloshing around the international markets, panicky rumors are bringing down countries.
The case of Iceland, which in recent weeks has nationalized its three major banks, shut its stock exchange and halted trading in its currency, is by now well known. Less well known is the speed with which the Icelandic disease is spreading. Consider Hungary, once the destination of choice for investors who wanted an Eastern European head office with a 19th-century facade and a pastry shop next door: The currency is in free fall and so is the stock market, flummoxing those previously well-fed investors. (One of them told a Hungarian financial Web site: "I haven't got a clue as to when and how this would end, I'm just staring into empty space.") Or Ukraine, whose central bank governor declared his banking system "normal and reliable" on Monday of last week. By Tuesday of last week, Ukraine had desperately requested " systemic support" from the IMF.
So far, most of these crises have been explained away: The banks of Iceland had debts larger than Iceland's gross domestic product, Hungary's finances were long mismanaged, and Ukraine, whose president just called for the third election in as many years, is badly governed. But the speed with which some of these defaults are happening, coupled with the paranoia inherent in the political culture of small countries, has led many to suspect political manipulation as well.
To put it another way: If you wanted to destabilize a country, wouldn't this be an excellent time to do it? If Country X's stock market can crash after the publication of a single article in an obscure newspaper, think what might happen if someone conducted a systematic campaign against Country X. And if you can imagine this, so can others.
All governments have enemies, internal and external, or at least are faced with elements that do not wish them well: the political opposition, the country next door, the former imperial power. For someone, there will always be the temptation to bring down the government, destabilize the country and thus create political chaos.
Even when there hasn't been political meddling, someone else will suspect that it has occurred, anyway. Here, then, is a prediction: Political instability will follow economic instability like night follows day. Iceland is not alone. Serbia, the Baltic states, Kazakhstan, Indonesia, South Korea and Argentina are all in financial trouble; so, too, are Russia and Brazil.
And here's a final, unpleasant thought: Pakistan. This is a country with 25 percent inflation and a currency in free fall; a country with a jihadist insurgency on its border with Afghanistan, permanent hostility on its border with India, nuclear weapons and a tradition of street demonstrations in response to suspect newspaper articles. Dozens of people, with all kinds of agendas, have an interest in using financial markets to destabilize Pakistan, and Afghanistan along with it. Eventually, one of them will.
applebaumletters@washpost.com
By Anne Applebaum
Tuesday, October 21, 2008; Page A17
Imagine this scenario: In a medium-size European country -- call it Country X -- the bank regulators hold an ordinary meeting. These being extraordinary times, the regulators discuss the health of various banks, including the country's largest -- call it Bank Y -- which is owned by an even larger Italian financial group. Last spring, Bank Y, which is perfectly healthy, transferred a large sum to its now somewhat-less-healthy Italian parent; since this is nothing unusual, the regulators drop the subject and move on.
The following day, the matter is reported in a marginal, far-right newspaper in somewhat different terms: "A billion dollars transferred to Italy! Country X's hard-earned money going abroad!" Within hours, as if on cue, everyone starts selling shares in Bank Y, whose stock price plunges. So does the rest of Country X's smallish stock market. So does Country X's currency. Within a few more hours, Country X is calling for an international bailout, the IMF is on the phone and the government is wobbling.
Except for that final sentence -- there was no international bailout or call to the International Monetary Fund, and the government is fine -- that is a brief description of something that happened last week to one of Poland's largest banks. A real meeting, followed by an unsubstantiated rumor in a dodgy newspaper, and a bunch of nervous investors started selling. Shares in the bank collapsed by the largest margin in its history; for one ugly day, they dragged down the rest of the Polish stock market and currency as well.
As I say, the story ended there. But it could have gone further, and, indeed, in several other countries it has. A month ago, in the first round of this crisis, panicky rumors brought down banks. Now, with trillions of nervous dollars sloshing around the international markets, panicky rumors are bringing down countries.
The case of Iceland, which in recent weeks has nationalized its three major banks, shut its stock exchange and halted trading in its currency, is by now well known. Less well known is the speed with which the Icelandic disease is spreading. Consider Hungary, once the destination of choice for investors who wanted an Eastern European head office with a 19th-century facade and a pastry shop next door: The currency is in free fall and so is the stock market, flummoxing those previously well-fed investors. (One of them told a Hungarian financial Web site: "I haven't got a clue as to when and how this would end, I'm just staring into empty space.") Or Ukraine, whose central bank governor declared his banking system "normal and reliable" on Monday of last week. By Tuesday of last week, Ukraine had desperately requested " systemic support" from the IMF.
So far, most of these crises have been explained away: The banks of Iceland had debts larger than Iceland's gross domestic product, Hungary's finances were long mismanaged, and Ukraine, whose president just called for the third election in as many years, is badly governed. But the speed with which some of these defaults are happening, coupled with the paranoia inherent in the political culture of small countries, has led many to suspect political manipulation as well.
To put it another way: If you wanted to destabilize a country, wouldn't this be an excellent time to do it? If Country X's stock market can crash after the publication of a single article in an obscure newspaper, think what might happen if someone conducted a systematic campaign against Country X. And if you can imagine this, so can others.
All governments have enemies, internal and external, or at least are faced with elements that do not wish them well: the political opposition, the country next door, the former imperial power. For someone, there will always be the temptation to bring down the government, destabilize the country and thus create political chaos.
Even when there hasn't been political meddling, someone else will suspect that it has occurred, anyway. Here, then, is a prediction: Political instability will follow economic instability like night follows day. Iceland is not alone. Serbia, the Baltic states, Kazakhstan, Indonesia, South Korea and Argentina are all in financial trouble; so, too, are Russia and Brazil.
And here's a final, unpleasant thought: Pakistan. This is a country with 25 percent inflation and a currency in free fall; a country with a jihadist insurgency on its border with Afghanistan, permanent hostility on its border with India, nuclear weapons and a tradition of street demonstrations in response to suspect newspaper articles. Dozens of people, with all kinds of agendas, have an interest in using financial markets to destabilize Pakistan, and Afghanistan along with it. Eventually, one of them will.
applebaumletters@washpost.com
Big Losers Always Make Excuses (BLAME): What does it mean to be a Republican?
As Barack Obama and the Democrats appear poised for an historic sweep, we have a message for our Republican friends: It is time to point fingers.
We are pro-finger-pointing. We disagree strongly with Gov. Sarah Palin who said recently, "Do you notice that our opponents sure have spent a lot of time looking at the past and pointing fingers? You look to the past because that's where you find blame, but we're...looking to the future, because that's where you find solutions." On the contrary, Governor, blame assignment, while much maligned, is essential to determining what went wrong and how to set it right. Besides, it's a hell of a spectator sport. Here's our primer for a little game we like to call Big Losers Always Make Excuses (BLAME):
First -- a couple of ground rules. You can't blame the press or minorities. Sure, media-bashing is part of the conservative catechism, and minority voters are likely to support Barack Obama in record numbers. But finger-pointing is only interesting when you point at someone on your team. Republicans need a civil war -- a steel cage death match -- to sort out what they stand for. Scapegoating outsiders won't purge the party of what's rotting it on the inside.
Here's the most important thing about finger-pointing: you have to start early. If you're a Republican who wants to avoid blame for the current meltdown, you cannot afford to wait until after the election is over.
The smartest people in the conservative movement are already pointing like a bird dog on a South Georgia quail hunt. David Brooks and Bill Kristol are leading the way. Mr. Brooks, representing the intellectual wing of the conservative movement, called Ms. Palin, "a fatal cancer to the Republican Party." Attaboy, Brooksie. Score one for the brainiacs.
Mr. Kristol, on the other hand, blames neither Ms. Palin nor Sen. John McCain, but rather McCain's campaign advisers, writing of the campaign: "Its combination of strategic incoherence and operational incompetence has become toxic." See? That's how you do it. Kristol can't say McCain's problem is that he supported the Iraq war, (which Kristol advocated) or that he chose Sarah Palin (whom Kristol praised). So rather than play defense, Bill went on offense, blaming McCain's Steve Schmidt-led campaign. But we have a feeling this fight will only begin when the Schmidt hits the fan.
But where are the other voices? We need to hear, for example, from Karl Rove. Whom will he blame? We stipulate that Karl is a genius -- albeit a genius whose advice took Pres. Bush from a 91 percent approval rating down to 26. With the House of Bush ablaze, Karl is going to have to do some quick finger-pointing before they change they change his nickname from The Architect to The Arsonist.
How about Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity and other radio personalities? They never liked McCain much -- but his campaign cratered only when he embraced their wild attacks on Sen. Obama. It was only after Mr. McCain borrowed the Limbaugh-Hannity line on Bill Ayers, only after Gov. Palin accused Mr. Obama of "pallin' around with terrorists," that the bottom fell out for Mr. McCain and Ms. Palin. We're betting the hot air boys will blame the intellectuals. After all, if you want to make an omelet, you've got to break a few eggheads.
The Republican Party is atomizing, and each faction must participate in Project BLAME. The neocons may want to blame the theocons. The economic conservatives will likely blame the big spenders. The conflagration will be so multi-dimensional we'll need a program to sort out the players. They will need to answer fundamental questions: What does it mean to be a Republican? Do Republicans support laissez-faire or nationalized banking? Do Republicans support a balanced budget or half-trillion-dollar deficits? Do Republicans want a "humble foreign policy" like George W. Bush, or preventive war against countries that pose no threat, like, umm, George W. Bush? Are Republicans the party of limited government or a vast Medicare prescription drug benefit? Are they wary of Big Brother or eager to expand warrantless wiretaps? Do they support Christian values or torture? Are they the party that believes that cutting-edge technology can shoot a missile out of the sky or the party that believes humans and dinosaurs walked the earth simultaneously?
These questions should define the 2012 GOP presidential primaries. So start blaming, all you would-be candidates. That means you, Ms. Palin, Mike Huckabee, Mitt Romney, Jeb Bush and Charlie Crist. Hurry up. You only have 1,165 days left until the Iowa Caucuses.
James Carville and Paul Begala were senior strategists for the 1992 Clinton-Gore campaign. They'd like everyone to know it's not their fault.
John McCain
Karl Rove
Bill Kristol
Sarah Palin
Barack Obama
As Barack Obama and the Democrats appear poised for an historic sweep, we have a message for our Republican friends: It is time to point fingers. We are pro-finger-pointing. We disagr...
As Barack Obama and the Democrats appear poised for an historic sweep, we have a message for our Republican friends: It is time to point fingers. We are pro-finger-pointing. We disagr...
We are pro-finger-pointing. We disagree strongly with Gov. Sarah Palin who said recently, "Do you notice that our opponents sure have spent a lot of time looking at the past and pointing fingers? You look to the past because that's where you find blame, but we're...looking to the future, because that's where you find solutions." On the contrary, Governor, blame assignment, while much maligned, is essential to determining what went wrong and how to set it right. Besides, it's a hell of a spectator sport. Here's our primer for a little game we like to call Big Losers Always Make Excuses (BLAME):
First -- a couple of ground rules. You can't blame the press or minorities. Sure, media-bashing is part of the conservative catechism, and minority voters are likely to support Barack Obama in record numbers. But finger-pointing is only interesting when you point at someone on your team. Republicans need a civil war -- a steel cage death match -- to sort out what they stand for. Scapegoating outsiders won't purge the party of what's rotting it on the inside.
Here's the most important thing about finger-pointing: you have to start early. If you're a Republican who wants to avoid blame for the current meltdown, you cannot afford to wait until after the election is over.
The smartest people in the conservative movement are already pointing like a bird dog on a South Georgia quail hunt. David Brooks and Bill Kristol are leading the way. Mr. Brooks, representing the intellectual wing of the conservative movement, called Ms. Palin, "a fatal cancer to the Republican Party." Attaboy, Brooksie. Score one for the brainiacs.
Mr. Kristol, on the other hand, blames neither Ms. Palin nor Sen. John McCain, but rather McCain's campaign advisers, writing of the campaign: "Its combination of strategic incoherence and operational incompetence has become toxic." See? That's how you do it. Kristol can't say McCain's problem is that he supported the Iraq war, (which Kristol advocated) or that he chose Sarah Palin (whom Kristol praised). So rather than play defense, Bill went on offense, blaming McCain's Steve Schmidt-led campaign. But we have a feeling this fight will only begin when the Schmidt hits the fan.
But where are the other voices? We need to hear, for example, from Karl Rove. Whom will he blame? We stipulate that Karl is a genius -- albeit a genius whose advice took Pres. Bush from a 91 percent approval rating down to 26. With the House of Bush ablaze, Karl is going to have to do some quick finger-pointing before they change they change his nickname from The Architect to The Arsonist.
How about Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity and other radio personalities? They never liked McCain much -- but his campaign cratered only when he embraced their wild attacks on Sen. Obama. It was only after Mr. McCain borrowed the Limbaugh-Hannity line on Bill Ayers, only after Gov. Palin accused Mr. Obama of "pallin' around with terrorists," that the bottom fell out for Mr. McCain and Ms. Palin. We're betting the hot air boys will blame the intellectuals. After all, if you want to make an omelet, you've got to break a few eggheads.
The Republican Party is atomizing, and each faction must participate in Project BLAME. The neocons may want to blame the theocons. The economic conservatives will likely blame the big spenders. The conflagration will be so multi-dimensional we'll need a program to sort out the players. They will need to answer fundamental questions: What does it mean to be a Republican? Do Republicans support laissez-faire or nationalized banking? Do Republicans support a balanced budget or half-trillion-dollar deficits? Do Republicans want a "humble foreign policy" like George W. Bush, or preventive war against countries that pose no threat, like, umm, George W. Bush? Are Republicans the party of limited government or a vast Medicare prescription drug benefit? Are they wary of Big Brother or eager to expand warrantless wiretaps? Do they support Christian values or torture? Are they the party that believes that cutting-edge technology can shoot a missile out of the sky or the party that believes humans and dinosaurs walked the earth simultaneously?
These questions should define the 2012 GOP presidential primaries. So start blaming, all you would-be candidates. That means you, Ms. Palin, Mike Huckabee, Mitt Romney, Jeb Bush and Charlie Crist. Hurry up. You only have 1,165 days left until the Iowa Caucuses.
James Carville and Paul Begala were senior strategists for the 1992 Clinton-Gore campaign. They'd like everyone to know it's not their fault.
John McCain
Karl Rove
Bill Kristol
Sarah Palin
Barack Obama
As Barack Obama and the Democrats appear poised for an historic sweep, we have a message for our Republican friends: It is time to point fingers. We are pro-finger-pointing. We disagr...
As Barack Obama and the Democrats appear poised for an historic sweep, we have a message for our Republican friends: It is time to point fingers. We are pro-finger-pointing. We disagr...
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