Vanity Fair has a fascinating profile on John McCain in its new issue, filled with enough tidbits to write days worth of blogs posts (and I just might). But there are a couple of angles that stood out.
The point of the piece will seem familiar to anyone who follows the political scene carefully: McCain lost a presidential race running as himself, so now he’s trying again, running as someone else. It’s left him dazed and confused — telling the party’s far-right base what it wants to hear, while slipping occasionally and accidentally saying what he believes. “[T]he plain truth is,” the article explains, “that the Straight Talk Express, Version 2.008, is often a far cry from the Magic Bus of 2000.”
The examples are abundant.
[It wasn’t] straight talk last summer at an Aspen Institute discussion when McCain struggled to articulate his position on the teaching of intelligent design in public schools. At first, according to two people who were present, McCain said he believed that intelligent design, which proponents portray as a more intellectually respectable version of biblical creationism, should be taught in science classes. But then, in the face of intense skepticism from his listeners, he kept modifying his views—going into reverse evolution.
“Yes, he’s a social conservative, but his heart isn’t in this stuff,” one former aide told me, referring to McCain’s instinctual unwillingness to impose on others his personal views about issues such as religion, sexuality, and abortion. “But he has to pretend [that it is], and he’s not a good enough actor to pull it off. He just can’t fake it well enough.”
Aravosis pointed to another good one. McCain was in Sioux City, Iowa, appearing at a fundraiser for far-right, anti-immigration Rep. Steve King (R), who had recently called McCain an “amnesty mercenary” for working with Ted Kennedy on a compromise bill. McCain told the assembled Republicans, “In the short term, [a hard line on immigration] probably galvanizes our base,” he said. “In the long term, if you alienate the Hispanics, you’ll pay a heavy price.” Then he added, unable to help himself, “By the way, I think the fence is least effective. But I’ll build the goddamned fence if they want it.”
I almost feel sorry for the guy. His desperation is so intense, he’ll take any position, repeat any talking point, compromise on any principle, just so long as he gets the nomination.
By the end of the year, John McCain won’t even know who he is anymore.
As Nico noted, McCain’s take on Iraq is no less startling.
Finally, a questioner lays it all on the line: “The war’s the big issue,” he says, adding, “Some kind of disengagement — it’s going to have to happen. It’s a big issue for you, for our party, in 24 months. It’s not that long a time.” McCain replies, “I do believe this issue isn’t going to be around in 2008. I think it’s going to either tip into civil war … ” He breaks off, as if not wanting to rehearse the handful of other unattractive possibilities. “Listen,” he says, “I believe in prayer. I pray every night.” And that’s where he leaves his discussion of the war this morning: at the kneeling rail.
On the way to our next stop, McCain tells me, “It’s just so hard for me to contemplate failure that I can’t make the next step.”
No wonder McCain isn’t worried about taking wildly unpopular positions on the war — as far as he’s concerned, by 2008, the issue won’t “be around” anymore.
Remember, McCain thinks his judgment and foreign policy “expertise” are some of his top selling points.
It’s going to get ugly.