Tom Keane

Foolish Tactic

Making fun of Romney may backfire on Democrats

If Barack Obama loses the presidency, blame for the outcome may come down to a fatal mistake in tactics: The Democrats made fun of Mitt Romney. Too much fun, as it turned out.

Uncomfortable with talking about Obama’s own domestic record, the Democrats’ campaign against Romney essentially amounted to portraying him as a nitwit — an ignorant, insincere, and gaffe-prone dolt who had no business being on the national stage, much less becoming president. That message was relentlessly pushed over the summer and early fall by the Obama campaign and it was undeniably effective. By the end of September, literally every single respected national poll showed Romney trailing the president. The National Journal, for instance, gave Obama a margin of 7; Fox News, 5; NPR, 7. Republicans were discouraged; the race seemed over.

How bad was it for Romney? Ever since clinching the GOP nomination with his win in Texas on May 29, he had been subjected to a withering barrage of mocking attacks. Granted, the Republican gave the Obama campaign much fodder, ranging from his “47 percent” comment to his worry about England’s handling of the Olympics to his tale of the dog on the roof. Over time, Romney’s reputation was in such tatters that things verged on the absurd.

For example, on Sept. 21, Ann Romney’s aircraft experienced an electrical fire in flight, the cabin filling with smoke. Shortly afterwards, Romney wondered aloud why airplanes didn’t have windows that could open. The remark went viral, proof of just what a dunce the guy was — opening windows in flight, as almost everyone knows, is a recipe for catastrophic depressurization.

Also in late September, stories started circulating that Romney’s pick for vice president, Representative Paul Ryan, had taken to calling his running mate “the stench.” Ryan, supposedly fearing for his own prospects as a possible candidate in 2016, was avoiding the nominee. “If Stench calls, take a message,” was one devastating quote. As with the airplane story, it was a telling anecdote, showing the degree to which even those closest to Romney knew his candidacy was a disaster.

Both stories were, in fact, untrue. In the case of the airplane quote, Romney did say the words, but they were uttered jokingly, as the original reporter on the story, Ashley Parker of The New York Times, told other reporters. The stench story, meanwhile, had no basis in fact. It was a piece of satire made up by Politico’s Roger Simon.

But to a degree, none of that mattered. The two stories had an element of what Stephen Colbert might call “truthiness” — factually false, but appearing to contain an underlying truth. Thus, a week before the first presidential debate, “Saturday Night Live” was able to run sketch featuring a pretend Obama acknowledging he didn’t deserve reelection but nevertheless telling audiences he had a “secret weapon” — that weapon being the bumbling Mitt Romney himself. Romney had become Palinized.

Then came the three debates. Regrettably for Obama (whose performance in the first debate suggests that he too may have believed his own propaganda), the Romney who showed up on stage was anything but an idiot. He looked quite presidential, in fact. Moreover, he was so dramatically different from the man portrayed in all of the Obama commercials that doubts arose in some minds about the veracity of everything else Obama was saying. Momentum shifted. A race that was a slam-dunk for the president became a nail-biter.

It’s certainly conceivable that the Democrats’ tactics could have worked. Indeed, the ridicule of Romney continues — the Big Bird ad, the debate line about cavalry and bayonets, the “Romnesia” gibe — suggesting that Democrats still think derision can succeed. But there is also great danger in tearing down one’s opponent. In 1980, Democrats had tried to paint Ronald Reagan as a bellicose and unhinged right-winger, an image that collapsed with the challenger’s avuncular demeanor during his debates with Jimmy Carter. Reagan won that race. Romney, as improbable as it may have seemed a month ago, may win his. The lesson: If you’re going to call your opponent a fool, make sure that really is the case.

This column originally appeared on the Boston Sunday Globe's op-ed page on October 28, 2012.

Death on the highway

After a death on the highway, doubts and second-guessing begin

At the moment of imminent death, my life did not flash before my eyes. I was too busy trying to get out of the way.

It’s Oct. 3, 9:44 a.m. My daughter, Lauren, and I are on the New Jersey Turnpike, driving south toward Washington. We’re in the center lane, a truck directly in front of us. I’m thinking of moving left to pass him when the truck’s right rear tire suddenly and catastrophically bursts, the percussive noise grabbing my attention. It immediately begins to careen out of control, pieces of tire pelting our car. I steer right and the truck skids right too. It then abruptly veers left, flipping on its side and striking a bridge abutment. It explodes into flames. We somehow pass through the fire and pull over to the side of the road, stunned. My hands start trembling.

My daughter dials 911, hands me the phone, and we start walking back toward the crash. Black smoke pours from the scene, flames climbing quickly, the truck completely obscured. “Did you see anyone get out?” the emergency operator asks. I hadn’t but I would try to find out.

As we approach, we spot a nearby work crew — building a new bridge, apparently — trying to move a water truck into position. Suddenly there is another explosion, echoing under the bridge, reverberating through our bodies, pushing all of us back. Over the next 10 minutes there are two more.

Traffic going both ways is stopped, unable to pass the inferno that stretches across the road. Bizarrely, vehicles on the overpass — Interstate 195 — continue to move, even as the flames get so high that the bridge itself appears to be on fire.

Firefighters and police arrive. We watch, feeling useless, as they try to douse the blaze. There comes a point where we realize it no longer makes sense to stay. I had given my name and phone number to the emergency operator. Certainly, we figure, the crews working the crash have better things to do than interview us. And so we slowly go back to the car, get in, and drive off.

The next 20 miles or so have a surreal quality to them: Since traffic is completely halted, we are for a long time the only ones on the road, driving in what feels like some version of post-apocalyptic America. Our conversation keeps obsessively circling back to what we had just experienced. Lauren picks up tweets about the crash from her smartphone. Most are angry complaints of those stuck on the highway. The doubts and second-guessing begin. Suppose I had decided to pass the truck just as its tire blew? Suppose I hadn’t been paying full attention, perhaps fiddling with the radio? Even now I can’t explain how we managed to swerve so quickly and still not strike other vehicles on the road. Somehow, we just did.

We learn later that the driver of the truck, 49 years old, was killed. The accident shut down the entire Turnpike for the entire day, perhaps its worst jam ever. The overhead was damaged by the fire and portions of I-195 are still closed as work has been accelerated to complete the new bridge.

I now worry when I drive near a truck. My daughter drove over a small tree limb and the resulting crack left her shaking. I recount the crash to others and some try to find meaning. “You were chosen,” they say, and I think they are wrong; someone else need not die to secure whatever destiny I may have. Others talk up the preciousness of life and “live every day as if it were your last,” and I understand their point. Yet my life hasn’t changed; I do the same things now as I used to do, the dull and the interesting, all mixed together.

What I am struck by is the utter randomness of it. If I hadn’t stopped to get coffee, I would have missed the crash altogether. If the cashier had been a little slower, I would have been one of those stuck in traffic, grumbling like everyone else. We think we are in control of our lives when in truth someone else is behind the wheel or, perhaps more accurately, no one at all.

This column originally appeared on the Boston Sunday Globe's op-ed page on October 20, 2012.

Burdens for bicyclists

Fear-mongering, tougher rules (and winter) push riders back into cars

Over the last month, motor vehicles in Boston have struck and killed two bicyclists, one in South Boston and the other in Dorchester. So far in 2012, the city’s Emergency Medical Services puts the number of bike-related incidents (a fuzzy term, admittedly) at 451, running ahead of last year’s rate. Qualms about safety are getting ever greater as are the burdens imposed on bicyclists: always use a helmet; wear bright, fluorescent clothing; get special training; strictly enforce rules of the road.

The car looks ever more attractive.

I was one of the first to sign up for Hubway — Boston’s bike share program — and I’ve used it many times, finding it more convenient and less expensive than my own car, public transit or a cab. I cheered when Boston Mayor Tom Menino proclaimed, “The car is no longer the king in Boston,” and the city set about remaking its roads — taking real estate from autos and creating lanes for two-wheelers. I appreciated the physical benefits (riding a bike is just like using aerobic machines at the gym, except the view changes) and applauded when the League of American Bicyclists this year ranked Massachusetts the third most “Bicycle Friendly State” — a giant leap from two years ago, when we ranked 19th.

But the prospect of death or severe injury has a way of putting a damper on all of those huzzahs, and these days the worries crowd my mind. Sometimes when I approach a Hubway bike stand, I find myself reconsidering. Maybe it would be better to get there a different way.

An observation: I feel safest when there are a lot of other bicyclists on the road. When we are everywhere, automobile drivers seem more aware of us. When there are only one or two of us, we’re easy to ignore. Drivers turn right or quickly change lanes without looking, forgetting we might be next to them.

So anything that discourages people from riding increases the risk to the rest who are — but that’s precisely the effect of fear-mongering and plans to toughen the rules on cyclists.

I’ll grant that helmets are, on balance, a good thing to wear, although there is a lot of argument out there that they are either ineffectual (as currently manufactured, they don’t offer much real protection) or counterproductive (those with helmets tend to ride more aggressively). But if folks stay off bikes because they don’t have a helmet, then the level of overall danger rises. The same applies to proposals to require bright clothing and bike training. I don’t own fluorescent clothes and even if I did, I wouldn’t show up in someone’s office wearing them. And bike training becomes one of those bureaucratic requirements that doubtless would depress the number of riders.

So too, with all due respect to advocacy group MassBike’s slogan of “Same Roads, Same Rules,” the same rules don’t always make sense, especially in a city. Waiting at red lights when there is no traffic just seems silly. At a stopped intersection, it’s far smarter to edge up to the front of the line where you’re obviously visible rather than stay in a bike lane, hoping a right turning car doesn’t clip you. Then too, Boston’s one-way streets can prove maddening. Rather than circle the entire Public Garden merely to go one block west to Arlington Street (easy for a car — the only effort involved is pushing a gas pedal), riders at Boylston and Charles use the sidewalk (illegal, I know) to hop over to Stuart Street and ride over.

Then, of course, there’s winter. It’s tough to ride then; Hubway itself just shuts down. Streets are plowed to give cars access; bikes (and pedestrians) are shortchanged. A transportation system that only operates nine months out of the year is, basically, undependable. If an alternative has to be used for those three months, then odds are that, for many, it’s that alternative—– and not the bike — that becomes their mainstay.

The car no longer king? It’s a worthy aspiration but in Boston it’s not reality. Indeed, I worry it’s going the wrong way. The spandex set and a few others, like me, who foolishly take the risk may continue to ride. Others will find something else.

This column originally appeared on the Boston Sunday Globe's op-ed page on October 14, 2012.

Biden on policy, Ryan on style

In theory, vice presidential debates shouldn’t matter that much — only 18 percent in a recent Rasmussen Poll said it would be “very important” to their vote — and that’s the way it should be. Neither guy, one hopes, will be president and the basic task of each is to demonstrate, if disaster strikes, that he would be up to the job. Biden has proven before that he would be, and Thursday night Ryan seemed competent on a national stage.

Yet this particular debate did matter and especially for Biden. He had to stem the Mitt Romney surge that over the last week has remade this race. He may have helped slow it, but probably it hasn’t been reversed.

In the presidential debate, Obama stayed above the fray. This time, Biden wallowed in it. He was full of bluster, interjections, inappropriate laughs and even — I think — a loud sigh or two. Oftentimes his interruptions seemed designed to trip up Ryan’s train of thought. It didn’t work. Ryan, taking his cue from Romney (and at times even seeming to channel his frozen smile from the presidential debate) came across as cool under Biden’s fire, far more controlled and far less mocking of his opponent. On style, it was Ryan’s win.

Yet Ryan was no match for the depth of experience projected by Biden. One telling moment was during a discussion of Israel’s prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu. Biden called him “Bibi,” a long-time friend. Biden is steeped in public policy and his mastery showed. And Biden was more aggressive too, calling Ryan on his facts and — doubtless thrilling attack-starved Democrats — bringing up Romney’s “47 percent” remarks.

There’s only one vice presidential debate scheduled, but the two may well meet again. It’s conceivable both may be their respective party’s nominees in 2016.

This column originally appeared on the Boston Sunday Globe's op-ed page on October 12, 2012, as part of an "instant" reaction to the October 11 vice presdiential debate.

A Brown-style GOP

Can Scott Brown reform the GOP?

Scott Brown doesn’t subscribe to the GOP platform when it comes to social issues such as abortion. He tells voters a good idea is a good idea regardless of source. He shies away from the label “Republican” while extolling the virtues of bipartisanship. And perhaps the most powerful argument challenger Elizabeth Warren makes against him is that his reelection could shift control of the Senate to Republicans. In other words, the problem with Scott Brown isn’t Scott Brown per se, but rather his presumed allegiance to the national party.

All of which raises the obvious question: Why is a Brown a Republican at all?

It’s no secret that the national party has moved ever rightward, becoming increasingly ideological, strident, and uncompromising. That may work — for the time being — to win elections elsewhere in the country. In Massachusetts, however, it’s a turnoff: Just 11 percent of voters call themselves Republicans. But the fact that 53 percent of all voters are unenrolled suggests that the Democratic Party doesn’t have their fealty either. Rather, the political leanings of many Bay State voters draw from both parties: economically conservative and socially liberal. Moreover, for all of its reputation as a left-leaning state, Massachusetts is decidedly pragmatic. When Mitt Romney spoke in last week’s debate about his ability as governor to work with legislators from both parties, that was an accomplishment less grounded in his personal charm than the Bay State’s lack of partisanship.

This blend of pragmatism and moderation is, of course, well identified with many Massachusetts politicians — Governors Bill Weld and Paul Cellucci and, at least during his first two years in office, Romney too. (Indeed, it’s not confined to Republicans — the late Democratic Senator Paul Tsongas was also one who comfortably occupied a middle ground.) Nationally, however, such Republicans are anathema to party stalwarts, mocked as RINOs (Republicans in name only) and — like Indiana Senator Richard Lugar — targeted for defeat.

In a different world, one could imagine Brown rejecting the Republican Party and embracing a third way — a new, more centrist political party. Or perhaps he could position himself (like soon-to-retire Connecticut Senator Joe Lieberman) as an independent willing to caucus with either party.

Unfortunately for Brown, those alternatives likely spell electoral doom. At least since the Civil War, new parties haven’t done well in America — the two major parties have a near stranglehold on the apparatus of elections. And as much as the national Republican Party may be off-putting to voters, it’s a critical source of fundraising and organization. Warren is benefiting from national support and, to compete, Brown has to as well. Hence his delicate, awkward dance — holding himself out as non-ideological to locals while currying favor from big GOP donors.

Thus, like it or not, Brown is stuck with the Republican Party. And so he has instead cast himself as a reformer, someone who would work from within to get the GOP to change.

In truth, reform is necessary, for the Republican Party faces a crisis. It may be winning elections now, but — with its positions on gay rights, women’s autonomy and immigration — it is doing so by alienating large and rapidly growing segments of the country’s population. It’s an unsustainable model.

Support for gay issues, for instance, is a matter of one’s age. Older Americans may be more sympathetic to the GOP’s opposition to same-sex marriage, but Millennial Americans are not. Similarly, the GOP’s well-known gender gap is attributable to a range of policies rooted in a 1950s-era model of domestic life far removed from the mores of today’s women. And while one could imagine culturally conservative Hispanics naturally leaning Republican, the party’s anti-immigration stance risks pushing the nation’s fastest-growing ethnic group firmly into Democratic hands.

If the GOP wants to avoid being marginalized, it’s going to have to win back those groups. Brown could be an effective voice in that effort, pushing his party to once again be the big tent it used to consider itself.

But getting from here to there is hard. Warren is right: if elected, Brown very well could hand power to a national party that Massachusetts voters regard as noxious. The promise of distant reform may not be enough to overcome that revulsion.

This column originally appeared on the Boston Sunday Globe's op-ed page on October 7, 2012.