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When the people who like Al Gore try to explain why, they typically wax lyrical about his competence. But it's this very competence, combined with an utter lack of core principles he'd be unwilling to jettison in his pursuit of the presidency, that makes the vice president such a frightening specimen of the modern politician Candidatus No-Shameus . Over the course of Campaign 2000 alone, Gore has shown himself to be a political shape-shifter of unsurpassed skill -- a sure-fire first-ballot inductee into the Panderers' Hall of Fame.
Last week ended with Gore taking a position on the Elian Gonzalez custody battle so unambiguously craven that even the most loyal Democrats used to being triangulated and swallowing their convictions in the name of party unity revolted: "I will reconsider my endorsement of Mr. Gore if he takes this political position," said Rep. Maxine Waters (D-Calif.). "I don't know if I should go to the convention as a Gore delegate if he is going to play this kind of politics. It is the cheapest kind of politics you can practice," said Rep. Jose Serrano (D-N.Y.). "I'm disappointed. In my opinion, it is purely politics," said Charles Rangel (D-N.Y.). "I was very disappointed. I think it has a cost in terms of his (reputation for) convictions and commitment," said Lee Hamilton (D-Ind.), the respected former chairman of the House Foreign Relations Committee. And these are the Gore supporters, willing to express their outrage in public. Behind the scenes, Democratic leaders and rank-and-file are frustrated, troubled, angry and much less PG-13.
So how could as competent and practiced a panderer as Gore make such a miscalculation? According to Democratic insiders, Gore believed he could cut into the traditional advantage Republicans hold among Cuban-American voters, forcing Bush to divert valuable resources to contest Florida, where his brother reigns as governor and he is very much the favorite.
Gore has been so used to pandering with no consequences that the last thing he and his advisors expected was to come under fire for business as usual. If this was to be Gore's Sister Soljah moment -- his break from party orthodoxy -- he didn't pull it off. Maybe he'll finally get it through his head that he can't get away with as much as Clinton. Unlike Clinton, he inspires calculated loyalty, not unconditional love.
Like a rock-'n'-roll drummer with no sense of rhythm, Gore just can't find the beat. The week that ended with Gore pandering to the Cuban-American voting bloc began with him trying to turn his "no controlling legal authority" vulnerability on the issue of campaign finance reform into the centerpiece of his general election run.
Now your average, run-of-the-mill panderer, looking to shore up a political liability while simultaneously glomming on to McCain voters, would merely declare himself a passionate convert to the cause of reform and leave it at that. But an all-pro such as Gore offers a detailed plan to go along with his newfound ardor -- and does it on the home turf of campaign-reform heavyweight Russ Feingold, vowing that McCain-Feingold would be "the first domestic legislation I send to the Congress on my first day in office." Right after little Elian gets his tour of the White House.
Gore's plan -- which includes a ban on unregulated soft-money donations, mandatory disclosure of the source of independently financed attack ads, free TV air time for candidates and a $7 billion endowment to fund federal campaigns -- is breathtakingly audacious, coming as it does from a man who not only had a central role in the scandalous excesses of the '96 campaign, but who is still working overtime raising soft money.
It is also seriously flawed -- by failing to include presidential campaigns and replicating the worst aspects of our presidential campaign financing system in 435 congressional races, allowing candidates to raise large amounts of special-interest money for their primary campaigns and still receive public financing for the general election.
Gore capped his proposal with a flowery tribute to Granny D: "No one better embodies the heart of this grass-roots movement than Doris Haddock ... a 90-year-old grandmother from New Hampshire who spent 14 months walking from California to Washington, D.C., to bring attention to this cause." But instead of gratefully catching the verbal bouquet, Granny D batted it back into the vice president's face. She recalled a day in August when she asked to meet with Gore during a campaign stop at the Excelsior Hotel in Little Rock: "We took signs hoping he would notice us, but nothing happened .... So we went in and said, 'Could we talk to Clinton and Gore?' But they said no, we couldn't go in unless we had $500 for the luncheon."
The same Gore who failed to even mention campaign-finance reform when announcing his candidacy for president, failed to acknowledge Granny D for the 14 months she was proving her commitment to reform one step at a time and failed to take a clear position on Elian while this controversy has been raging for the past four months now wants us to believe that last week's camera-ready stands were motivated not by political expediency but by heartfelt conviction.
Maxine and Granny D aren't buying it -- and neither is any sentient being. The Great Panderer has finally overplayed his heavy hand.
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