The Republican Gang, Part Eleven

"A gaffe," the journalist Michael Kinsley said, "is when a politician tells the truth."

That's nice and pithy, but not quite the whole story. Kinsley himself elaborated: "A gaffe (...) is when a politician tells the truth - or more precisely, when he or she accidentally reveals something truthful about what is going on in his or her head. A gaffe is what happens when the spin breaks down."

And more often than not, a gaffe is when the politician tells you something that plays straight to the heart of a pre-existing perception that that politician has been trying to repudiate (or perhaps, as in the case of Sarah Palin, refudiate).

****

Romney has had his share of awkward comments along the way. Some of them have simply been the result of unfortunate phrasing, such as his statement that "corporations are people, too." Some have only become awkward because they were taken totally out of context, such as his assertion that he "likes to fire people". (What he really said was: "I like being able to fire people who provide services to me. You know, if someone doesn't give me a good service that I need, I want to say, 'I'm going to go get someone else to provide that service to me.'" )

I suppose you could, at a stretch, classify such comments as gaffes. But they are hardly damning. Insofar that they tap into any pre-existing perception - well, that perception isn't one that he needs to toss aside. Corporations are people, in the sense that any money flowing into them ends up in the pockets of those working for the corporations. I really can't see anyone getting worked up about that. And yes, most of us would agree that it's a good thing to be able to get rid of those who provide bad services, and go and find someone else.

Some comments have, however, been quite horrible.

For me, the one that sticks to mind is his "poor" statement. The comment, in full, is:

"I'm in this race because I care about Americans. I'm not concerned about the very poor. We have a safety net there. If it needs repair, I'll fix it. I'm not concerned about the very rich, they're doing just fine. I'm concerned about the very heart of the America, the 90-95 percent of Americans who right now are struggling, and I'll continue to take that message across the nation."

What is so absolutely wrong with this statement is the idea that you don't have to worry about the "very poor", because there's a "safety net". You can lump them into the same category as the very rich - there's really no need to get your knickers in a twist about either of these groups of people, since they're doing just fine.

Anyone who really thinks - as Romney clearly does - that there's no need to worry about the very poor is off his rocker. You don't necessarily have to be all too sympathetic to the poor to understand this: we are talking about a group of people who, quite simply, burden society greatly. They do that simply by virtue of their poverty, by crime, by lack of education. The question of how to tackle this is an important one, and one that has worried politicians, economists and sociologists for many, many years. To say that you're not even aware that there is a problem in the first place is a very, very dubious comment indeed.

Again, though, I'm not quite sure how comfortably the comment fits into the "gaffe" mould. If Romney were asked the same question today, he'd probably reply in more or less the same manner. He'd probably reiterate the "safety net" idea, and the fact that, in his mind, enough has been done to help the poor. And whilst this might be true for me, I doubt most of you would be up in arms at such new comments, certainly not if they were phrased a little more delicately.

****

Yesterday, however, we were suddenly treated to the real thing. Suddenly, and quite out of nowhere, a real gaffe jumped straight out of our TV's and bit us on the nose.

It wasn't just surprising, it was ironic, too.

After all, yesterday was Romney's Big Day of Fun. He'd just won Illinois; he'd finally gotten his big win in the Midwest. A 12% victory over that yapping weasel scoundrel, Santy something. Take that, Michigan! Take that, Ohio! And then Jeb Bush - oh, endorsement of endorsements!

What a glorious day! To stand there in the spring sun, radiant and strong! To suckle the sweet, sweet milk of victory! To -

And, then, of course, someone squeaked "Etch a Sketch". And it all came tumbling down.

****

The guy who squeaked was Eric Fernstrom, a top Romney adviser. And he wasn't really squeaking. Instead, he was, quite calmly and reasonably, answering a journalist's question.

"Is there a concern that the pressure from Santorum and Gingrich might force the governor to attach so far to the right it would hurt him with moderate voters in the general election?" the journalist asked hopefully.

And Fehrstrom obligingly answered:

"Well, I think you hit a reset button for the fall campaign. Everything changes. It's almost like an Etch a Sketch. You can kind of shake it up and we start all over again."

A gaffe is when a politician tells the truth. Fehrstrom might not actually be a politician (I guess it's up for debate), but he certainly spoke the truth. Perfectly, in fact. His remark summed up the Romney problem in a way that left everyone hugely impressed. This, for example, was posted on Redstate:

"We’ve been at a loss to encapsulate our opposition into a one-liner; a bumper sticker. After all, it takes copious pages of ink to explain the extent of Romney’s hypocrisy on the issue of healthcare alone. Yet, late in the 11th hour of the campaign, when it’s probably too late to make a difference, we have finally discovered our symbol that exemplifies Romney."

And Gingrich, too, praised Fehrstrom, remarking that "a more perfect illustration" for why people distrusted Romney could not be found.

A gaffe, more often than not, is when a politician tells you something that plays straight to the heart of a pre-existing perception - a perception that the politician has been trying to repudiate. Again, Fehrstrom was spot on: in one simple image, he succinctly and precisely painted the cage Romney has been trapped in all through this race.

****

And so, in just about any way that counts, we have the almost perfect gaffe. The most gaffysome of all gaffes. The grotesque grandfather of all gaffyness. The -

No, wait.

Perhaps not.

When you think about it, there is another aspect to the great gaffe. It's so obvious that it's never really mentioned, but it's there all the same. It's this: for a gaffe to truly work, the truth it reveals must have been hidden. It must be one of those awkward, unwanted truths, something you've long since swept under the carpet by the time the neighbours come calling. And when they do, you can give them soothing beverages and canapés, and they'll not notice the bulgy shape in the corner.

When you think about it, that's where the Fehrstrom gaffe falls flat. That's why, as gaffes go, it's basically dead as a doornail. The simple fact of the matter is that it didn't reveal anything we didn't already know about Romney. Nada, zilch, and all that.

Surely no-one can be truly surprised by Fehrstrom's comment? Surely everyone who has been following this contest - even if only half-heartedly - would immediately realise that Fehrstrom was not inadvertently digging up some well-buried secret, but simply reconfirming an evident truth?

What is ultimately surprising about the whole incident is not what Fehrstrom said, but how Republicans have reacted to it. They seem to have seriously been considering Romney as a conservative. A conservative Republican, the new improved kind of conservative Republican - the kind all good people dream about when they huddle up at night under their US flag duvets and think Pure Thoughts after - well, after having not been so very good.

For them, perhaps, there may be a real gaffe here. For ordinary people, though, not so much.

For ordinary people, the truth, as revealed by Fehrstrom, is not only self-evident, it is welcome, too. 

Yes, Romney will be able to hit a reset button.

In fact, they're counting on it.

The Republican Gang, Part Ten

Ah, how times flies when you're having fun.

One minute you're shovelling snow in Des Moines, and the next you're whistling Dixie.

So: Alabama and Mississippi. Two wins for Santorum, if just barely. Enough for him to scurry happily onwards, even as the delegates continue to throng to Romney (who sneakily grabbed Hawaii and American Samoa whilst nobody was looking).

So nothing's really changed, right? No, that's right. Nothing's changed.

Except, perhaps, for one thing. To put it bluntly (as The National Review did), Gingrich is now officially "toast". Or, as Erick Erickson over at Redstate said: "It is time for Gingrich to exit." Or, as the Washington Post stated, rather more amiably: "Prominent conservatives have already begun to go public urging him to leave the race and that drumbeat will only grow louder if he refuses."

There's a memo which you might or might not be aware of. It was written by Randy Evans, a senior adviser to Gingrich. It was sent to Gingrich's campaign staff on Tuesday, and in it, Evans says:

"Today’s contests in Alabama, American Samoa, Hawaii, and Mississippi are big, but it’s still early. Louisiana, on March 24th, will actually be “halftime” in the race for the GOP nomination.

"Heading into Louisiana, states with delegates totalling 1,141 will have decided - just short of the 1,144 needed for the nomination. It will be Louisiana that moves the process past the halfway mark with 34 states accounting for 1,187 delegates having been voted.

"Yet by halftime, the process will be far from over. Just look at the math."

And guess what? Evans then looks at the math. Somewhat fuzzily, to be sure, but he does give it a Newtian work over. And then he concludes:

"So here is the bottom-line reality: this nomination will not be decided until the fourth quarter – and that is not until June. It also means that the candidate who closes strongest in this race is going to win (...)

This race is going to be decided by a big debate – a big choice – among GOP primary voters about the future of the Republican Party (...).

That is the debate Newt is going to win, and with it, the nomination and the election."

I'm not quite sure anyone with half a brain would actually believe the "winning" part. Redstate doesn't, and neither does The National Review (and all those guys are pretty conservative, I'm told). Neither, it seems, do "prominent conservatives" in general, according to the Post.

To be frank, I don't think that Gingrich staffers believe it either, or Gingrich himself for that matter (in spite of the fact that Evans points out various Helpful Facts, such as Wisconsin being Callista Gingrich's home state).

However, the memo, if somewhat obliquely, addresses an important, and rather tantalising, issue, one that was raised in Part Nine of this series. Neither Santorum nor Gingrich have a hope in hell of prevailing in the delegate count, but there is a chance, if just a very slim chance, that they (along with Ron Paul) may somehow prevent Romney from winning, too.

The question is, how do they do that? And, to be a little more concrete: would it help their cause if Gingrich drops out?

In an article written a few days ago for the New York Times, Nate Silver asked himself the question: "How Would Santorum Do Without Gingrich?" That's more or less the same question, except that, in Silver's case, he answers his query only by looking at the contests that have already been concluded. The real question, of course, is what would happen to Santorum if Gingrich drops out now. How would that shape the coming primaries and caucuses?

Well, the first and most obvious answer is that, should this happen, there will only be one Anti-Mitt left standing. As such, Santorum's position would be substantially strengthened; he would become, both in theory and in practice, the focal point for all those Republicans who don't like the idea of President Romney.

Would that, however, actually translate into more Santorum wins? Or, rather, more Romney losses?

Well, have a look at, say, Illinois, which is now shaping up to be the next Michigan, or the next Ohio. Currently, Romney's leading in the polls, if only slightly: he's at 35%, whilst Santorum is at 31%. Gingrich, by contrast, is at 12%.

If Gingrich exits the race, one might suspect - as Nate Silver seems to do - that perhaps a little more than half of Gingrich's support would go to Santorum, whilst about a quarter would go to Romney. In other words, Santorum goes up by 6%, and Romney by 3%. What's the result? Romney would be at 38%, and Santorum at 37%. It'd be very, very close, but Romney might win anyway; Gingrich's depature may not accomplish anything.

But perhaps more importantly, there's another fact that generally inserts itself in narrowing competitions: the fewer opponents there are, the easier it becomes to acquire greater numbers. In other words, Romney could find it easier to get the requisite number of delegates if the number of his competitors dwindles. Look at it this way: it is very, very difficult to win an outright majority if you're facing, say, three or four others; it becomes much easier if you're battling just a single competitor. In the first case, you can "win" by conquering the others, but could still lose by ending up below the 50% mark. In the second case, that problem sort of takes care of itself.

Consider, too, the recent contests in Alabama and Mississippi. Together, Gingrich and Santorum won over 70% of the vote. What would have happened if Gingrich hadn't been in the race? Frankly, I very much doubt that Santorum could have gotten much more than 50%, let alone gotten close to 70%. In other words, in very practical terms, it would seem that in some contests the combined presence of Gingrich and Santorum can hurt Romney more than the single presence of Santorum would have.

So, when all's said and done - what would the exit of Gingrich actually mean for the race? Well, I think it probably would not, as many seem to think, pave the way for a possible Santorum win. Although it might well strengthen Santorum, it would strengthen Romney as well. And in a two-man race, I'd tend to put my money on Romney.

The again, of course, my money's on him anyway.

The Republican Gang, Part Nine

Now what?

Yesterday, we had our Super Tuesday, and the hour came, but not the man. Or perhaps he did, and we all sort of missed it.

Romney won Ohio by 1%. This particular incarnation of "the next president of the United States" managed to surpass his main rival by 12,000 votes. 12,000, that is, out of a total of some 1,200,000.

Romney lost Tennessee. He lost Oklahoma, and North Dakota, and he lost Georgia as well. But at the same time, he was stuffing a host of other states in his bag: Massachusetts, Vermont, Virginia. And Idaho and Alaska, too, for good measure. And whilst this was going on, he was amassing his delegate count, soundly beating Santorum by a margin of well over 2 to 1.

Over at Romney HQ, it was the latter fact that was widely celebrated. "No-one can beat us now," they chortled, "No-one! Santorum can't catch us, Gingrich can't catch us. We've won!"

And yet, they aren't packing their bags at the Santorum camp, and Gingrich isn't going anywhere either.

So what now?

Nothing, really. We simply plod along, resuming our way to the conclusion that, frankly, seemed inevitable from the very beginning.

Oh, I suppose something extraordinary might happen - a piano might fall on Romney's head, or the angel Moroni might descend from the skies to proclaim him an Antichrist - but barring that, Romney can't lose. The only remotely possible exception to this is the scenario where Santorum, Gingrich and Paul, effectively all bundled together in some sort of Multi-Anti-Mitt package (a Super MAM, I suppose), manage to keep Romney from reaching the magic number of 1,144 delegates before the Tampa convention in August. The problem with that, though, is that it not only relies on a continued determination on the part of the voters not to back Romney, but also on the continued temperance on the part of (establishment) Republicans. The voters may play along, but establishment (or simply established) Republicans won't.

In short, it won't happen. Romney's won.

And yet, when the hour came, we missed our man. Perhaps it was the lighting, but it seemed he was gone. And instead, if you squinted a bit, and tilted your head just so, you saw the silhouette of a ship listing to the right, some once sharp cutter having taken on way too much water.

In his speech yesterday, there was something almost poetic in what Romney said, something rather sad and eerily evocative:

Tomorrow we wake up and we start again. And the next day we will do the same. And so it will go, day by day, step by step (....) to the last syllable of recorded time. Out, out brief candle!

Well, he didn't say the last part, obviously (that was Shakespeare). But somehow it sounded like it.

For all practical purposes, Romney has won the nomination. The very real question is if he'll be able to win anything else.

___________

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

- W.B. Yeats, The Second Coming

The Republican Gang, Part Eight

So, two more states done and dusted.

And for everyone hoping for more funs and games, it was a bit of a disappointment, really.

Romney's win in Arizona was expected; the magnitude of that win (47% to Santorum's 27%) wasn't surprising either. As for Romney's win in Michigan - well, it sort of depends on when you were expecting, so to speak.

A month or more ago and you'd have thought Michigan a shoe-in for Romney. It's home turf, after all. How could he lose? A week ago, though, we were all up in arms shouting "Santorum! Santorum!", and Michigan was looking decidedly dicey.

In the end, Romney just squeaked by (by 41% to Santorum's 38%). There are probably three reasons for this. Firstly, the result was influenced by early voting (Santorum's argument that he actually won the majority of votes cast on February 28th itself may well be true). Secondly, money talks - and Romney (and his Super Pac) did a lot of talking. And thirdly, of course, there was Santorum himself, who, we now know, suffers from the same affliction so prevalent amongst the season's Republican candidates: sudden and overwhelming bouts of idiocy. J.F. Kennedy's speech on the separation of church and state, for example, seems to have made Santorum want to "throw up", and Santorum felt it was good idea to share that reaction with all of us. Way to go, Winchester Weasel!!

What the Michigan result, of course, can't be put down to is the Whirr/Clack Mechanism himself. Indeed, Romney seemed fairly eager to scupper his own chances again. Visions of nice shiny Cadillacs danced before his eyes as he addressed crowds in Detroit - and they were his, all his! (Well, his wife's, actually.) He doesn't really care for Nascar, but hey, his friends own Nascar teams. Isn't that great? And the trees, the trees! They're all the right height! No nasty little sort ones, and no awkward big stomping ones either! They're all in line and doing what I want them to do! Ha!

41% to 38% doesn't really tell us all that much for the future, though. It doesn't tell us who will win Super Tuesday, for example. It doesn't tell us who will win Ohio.

So, does that mean we don't know? No, that's not what it means. I think we do know, or, at the very least, that we can make a pretty good guess. Certainly when it comes to the nomination itself. But that's not because of Michigan. Rather, it's because of - drum roll, tada! - Arizona.

Eh?

Well, think about it for a minute. Absolutely no-one in all the political pools of punditry seemed to have had any interest in Arizona at all. Romney was going to win it by a mile, so why bother? All that's true - and it's exactly the relevant point. Arizona was a far more important indicator of where this primary season is heading than Michigan, exactly because we all knew what the Arizona results would be. And we knew that, because Romney had no real competition there at all.

You see, none of the other candidates could afford to compete in Arizona. Or, if they could, they chose not to because it would have been a lost cause. But here's the thing: if they can't afford competing, they can't afford to win the nomination. And if they simply gave up, they don't believe they can win the nomination. It's really as simply as that.

Arizona, in other words, showed how the process will eventually end. Sure, Super Tuesday might be exciting, and who knows, perhaps Santorum will win Ohio, and Gingrich Georgia, and all that. But it doesn't really matter.

A while back, in Part 5 of this series, I said that, in all likelihood, it seemed that Romney had won the nomination by winning Florida. I still believe that to be the case. It is because of that win that we now have a lopsided contest, where Romney can only seriously be challenged in a number of states hand-picked by his remaining competitors, and where the Arizonas of the nation are his for the taking. And he's taking them.

The Republican Gang, Part Seven

Okay, here goes.

Who's Mitt?

Throughout this series, I have continuously referred to the man as the Whirr/Clack Mechanism. It's not much of a compliment, to be sure, but neither is it much of an analysis.

So, let's delve a little more deeply.

****

On Aug. 31, 1967, Romney's father, then governor of Michigan and candidate for the presidency of the United States, did an interview in Detroit. He tried to explain his early support for the Vietnam war. "Well," he said, "you know, when I came back from Vietnam, I just had the greatest brainwashing that anybody can get. Not only by the generals, but also by the diplomatic corps over there, and they do a very thorough job.”

Admitting to having been "brainwashed" by the US military into supporting the Vietnam war? That wasn't a very smart thing to say, not when you want to become president of the United States. "Hi everyone. My name is George Romney. I've been brainwashed by the military, and I think I'd be a swell commander in chief!"

Mitt Romney was 20 years old at the time, serving as a Mormon missionary in France. By all accounts, he never quite got over his father's mistake.

And certainly it seems he has tried, and tried very hard, not to make any of his own. Throughout his adult life, he has been cautious, scrupulous and, oftentimes, secretive. Unlike his father, he never shoots from the hip. Instead, he will amass all the information he can, he will crunch all the numbers, and only then he will do what he feels is right. If, that is, it also seems expedient.

****

Romney's stint as missionary lasted 30 months, as is customary in the Mormon Church. Afterwards, he performed many duties on behalf of his church. Some were more or less organisational, but many others were charitable. He came from a long line of eminent Mormons, and has always taken his task as their successor to heart.

In many ways, this is honourable. In some ways, though, it raises questions. Primarily, this isn't because of Romney himself; rather, it is because of his faith, which is frankly suspect.

Mormonism was founded by John Smith. In March 1826, Smith was convicted by a court in New York for being "a disorderly person and an impostor." The conviction wasn't much of a surprise, since during the trial Smith had admitted to defrauding citizens by organizing gold-digging expeditions (he also admitted to possessing "necromantic" powers).

This was the man who, a few years later, claimed to have discovered the Book of Mormon, a series of golden plates upon which was written, in a strange tongue, the history of the indigenous people of America and the truth of the gospels. Of course, no one ever saw these plates; when Smith set about translating them at his home, with a neighbour called in to write everything down (Smith himself couldn't write), a curtain was hung between them.

The Book of Mormon explained, among many other things, that the American Indians were the descendants of Nephi and his family, a man who had left Jerusalem in 600 BC and travelled by boat to "the promised land" (the Americas). It also explained that Jesus Christ himself visited the Americas after his crucifixion (3 Nephi, Ch. 11).

Such notions seem evidently absurd, as does the notion that Joseph Smith was an actual prophet. Add to this other well known Mormon concepts - such as polygamy (abandoned in 1890 after a "revelation"), or the idea that black people cannot become priests (abandoned in 1978 after another "revelation"), and it becomes very difficult to take Mormonism seriously.

Nevertheless, Mitt Romney does seem to take it seriously. The thing is, though, we don't really know to what extent. There are pieces of the puzzle that are missing, and we have no real knowledge of what he believes in. One might well argue that here, again, the shutters have been drawn, but that's about as far as any conclusion can go.

****

After graduation, Romney went to work for the Boston Consulting Group. In 1977, he left to join Bain & Company, a management consulting firm. In 1984, he became CEO of the off-spin company Bain Capital.

The idea behind Bain Capital was to further the techniques already employed by Bain & Company. Unlike Bain & Company, Bain Capital would not just offer consultancy; instead, it would actually buy into companies. It was, in short, a private equity investment firm. And it was a firm that, within a few years, was heavily into so-called leveraged buy-outs. That is: using the money provided to it by its clients, Bain would buy (a controlling interest in) a firm; the clients' money would be protected by means of securing it via the firm's assets.

Although this is by no means set in stone, there are basically two ways Bain's clients could make money from this. The first is simply when the firm acquired prospered. After all, when that happened the shares (the equity) in the firm rose in value; so, generally speaking, would the worth of its assets. The second was when the firm was sold or dismantled, in which case the worth of the assets could well be more than the clients' original investment.

In short, whether or not Bain's activities lead to prosperous and healthy companies - and, therefore, to the creation of jobs - can't be deduced simply by the nature of those activities. Whether Romney was a "job creator" or a "vulture capitalist" can't be concluded from the fact that he was CEO of Bain. In order to reach a conclusion either way, one would have to analyse all the investments Bain made whilst Romney was CEO, and such an assessment is very difficult, given the private (and therefore confidential) nature of the dealings involved.

Having said that, I'd be surprised if Romney didn't come out on top if such an assessment were ever made. I base that on Bain's background as a consulting firm, on its (and Romney's) considerable success, and on some of the well-known examples, such as Staples. He probably can be credited for creating quite a few more jobs than he destroyed, even if that wasn't the business he was in.

****

Romney's career as a politician is, at best, a little shaky. All in all, there's rather less to it than one might at first think.

It is, of course, well known that he was governor of Massachusetts. However, he only served a single term, from 2003 to 2007. Halfway through it, in 2005, he had already decided to run for president, which was one of the reasons why he did not seek a second term. Another one may well have been the fact that times were tough for Republicans; if he had run for governor again, he may well have lost.

Besides this, there is not all too much to tell. Back in 1994, Romney ran for the US Senate, rather bravely taking on Ted Kennedy. He lost, though. And of course, in 2008 he ran for president, again losing.

It has been said that, in effect, Romney's political career is less that of a politician, and more that of someone trying to become a politician. It is certainly true that he has effectively been running for president since 2006. It's been six years now; six long and no doubt expensive years. That shows some determination, if nothing else.

****

By all accounts, Romney did extremely well at Bain Capitol. He has another accomplishment he can be proud of, however, and it may well be more important: the 2002 Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City. When Romney was brought in, there were severe money problems, not to mention bribery allegations; there was actually talk of moving the games elsewhere. Romney changed all that, and there is no doubt that his efforts were highly successful. He's known by some as Mr Fix-It; if the name is appropriate, it is largely because of the 2002 games.

****

So, what does all this tell us? Well, great deal, and not very much at all.

It shows us a man driven by his sense of duty, a determined man capable of many things. But it also shows us someone who is, in many ways, the opposite of what a president has to be.

A president has to be, as much as possible, an avatar. He must be, as much as possible, a composite of his people. He can - and indeed, should - be smarter than most, better educated, more astute. But even if he is better than the mold, he still has be "one of us". He has to be a role model; he has to be the guy you look at and say, "hey, me too", even when you know that's just wishful thinking on your part.

Romney isn't that man. He's got a great business record, but ran a business where it didn't really matter whether jobs were created or destroyed. He's a devoted father, but his faith - which so strongly influences his approach to family issues - is difficult to comprehend, let alone respect. He's running a long, determined campaign, but at least some of his drive seems to derive from his father's failure. And taken on its own, his political record is patchy; in many ways, the four years he was governor are the very years he's now shying away from.

In Utah, he's shown that he can actually get things done, but that was a distinctly Fix-It approach. It doesn't change the fact that, overall, Romney can best be described by what he lacks. What he lacks is vision, and vision is another one of those essential components for a good president.

There's another thread running through all this, or perhaps it's just another way of describing the same thing. It's that Romney has a curious inability to actually be someone, or at the least to appear to be somebody. That is, to be more than a persona, more than a mask. There's a conundrum involved here: the people you respect most are, as often as not, quite similar to yourself, but the reason you respect them is because they are also distinct - different - from you. It's a conundrum Romney hasn't quite been able to figure out. The more he wants to be liked, the less he is; his very desire to be accepted seems to alienate him.

All in all, it must be very difficult to be a Whirr/Clack Mechanism. It must be very difficult to be so cautious, to have shielded yourself to such an extent you've locked yourself up in your own cocoon, and yet nevertheless to feel this need to become president of the United States. To try and break out, only to suddenly hear yourself uttering something terribly alien like "I'm not concerned about the very poor".

In some ways, Romney comes close to being his father's son. In others, he seems more like a flawed simulacrum.

The Republican Gang, Part Six

Well, it's been a day since my last post, so just about everything must have changed, right?

Sort of.

Yesterday was the day of the Santorum Sweepstakes. There's really no other way to put it. Santorum won not just the totally insignificant (and superfluous) Missouri primary, but also the not-so-insignificant caucuses of Minnesota and Colorado.

Who'd have thought it? I wouldn't, for one. Missouri wasn't really a surprise, to be honest. Romney had skipped the primary and Gingrich wasn't on the ballet; it was a contest lacking any and all importance and it just doesn't count. Santorum nevertheless campaigned in the state in what seemed to me a rather risky gamble: if he had lost the primary to Romney, he ran the very real risk of making himself a laughing stock.

He didn't lose, though; he won quite handsomely. And then he went on to win Minnesota, a victory that does count, and that was a bit of a surprise. And then, to just about everyone's astonishment, he took Colorado, too. And that, frankly, was a real upset.

In yesterday's post, I pointed out that Romney had won Colorado in 2008 with some 60% of the vote. I predicted he wouldn't do so well this time round. Boy, was that ever a case of unintentional understatement! In the end, Romney managed a relatively paltry 35%, whilst Santorum walked away with 40%.

In Colorado, by the way, some 65.000 voters turned up. That was some 5.000 less than in 2008. If you add and subtract and divide a few things, you'll realise the scale of Romney's defeat. Effectively, he got about half the votes he did in 2008. And it's not for want of campaigning (although, to be fair, Romney did perhaps not fully commit to the state).

In Minnesota, things were, perhaps, even worse, with Romney ending up with just 17%. Ron Paul easily surpassed him with 27%, whilst Santorum jauntily strolled to the finish with 45%.

So, has everything changed? Well, not really. Yes, there is certainly a buzz going around. Yes, the race has experienced another shake-up, after the Gingrich mutiny in South Carolina. But has the situation truly altered? Is Santorum suddenly going to become The Nominee?

No, I don't think so. What yesterday's results seem to indicate is two things. First, the vagaries of the caucus system. Second, the Whirr/Clack Mechanism Syndrome.

I will address the first issue here (the second will have to wait, just a bit).

I, like many others, tend to view caucuses with some affection. It's a weird sentiment, to be sure, but caucuses bring out an "aw, shucks" reaction in me. They're quaint, for want of a better word. They're even cute.

They're also notoriously unreliable and quite undemocratic, for a great many reasons. Perhaps the major reason is simply one of numbers. In Colorado, for example, some 1.100.000 voters voted for McCain in 2008. That's over a million people. In the caucus that year, 70.000 people voted (and of those, only some 13.000 voted for McCain). Even assuming all Republicans had reconciled themselves to McCain retrospectively at the time of the caucus (i.e.: all caucus voters had voted for McCain) that still means a ratio of 0,06. In other words: just 6% of the people voting Republican in the general election would, even in this very unreal scenario, have bothered to vote for McCain in the caucus. And in reality, it was just over 1%.

That's not democracy by any stretch of the imagination. And no, it doesn't really help to point out that the caucus-goers are die-hards, that they're the real backbone of the political movement. It doesn't really help, because, quite simply, those caucus-goers don't represent real voters. Their views are simply not the views of the people who ultimately go out and select their president.

The second reason - akin to the first, but different - is that caucus results don't accurately reflect the ideas of voters at the time they're held. Given the time difference and given the very different scale and scope, it's always difficult to compare general election results with caucus or even primary results. But the specific problem with a caucus is that it doesn't represent the views of the voters even at the time the caucus is held. That can't be right, surely?

Consider, again, Colorado. Romney won with 60% in 2008. He lost with 35% in 2012. Now, there are some reasons why Romney lost this time round, but the numbers just don't add up. Or subtract, or whatever. Romney got half the votes he got four years ago. Why? I have no idea. A 5% difference would be fine. A 10% difference would be understandable. But a difference of 25%? In Colorado?

Caucuses, simply by virtue of the fact that they squeeze their results out of very small and very restricted platforms, are just not very meaningful. I wish that were different - I like 'em, as I said - but it just ain't.

And, as a result, I must admit that I'd be in favour of abolishing the caucus system entirely.

The Republican Gang, Part Five

So Florida has come and gone, and so has Nevada. And Mitt Romney is riding high, with a slew of favourable (Mid-)Western states set to follow.

Has he won?

In all likelihood, yes. He won when he wrapped up Florida with 46% of the vote, leaving Gingrich (32%) and poor old Santorum (13%) trailing in his wake.

I would imagine that, when we look back at the 2012 primary season, it will be Florida that is mentioned time and time again. This is were the race was decided.

Decided, perhaps, but not wrapped up. After all, look at Nevada.

It's true, the Nevada results were touted as a huge success for Romney by just about all the pundits. He got a whopping 50% of the vote, what more could you possibly want?

Except that it wasn't all that impressive, really. Back in 2008, Romney didn't get 50%. He got 51%. A marginal difference, perhaps, but still: it's Iowa all over again. What seems a victory at first glance isn't anything to get excited about; not when you look a little more closely. Besides, the turnout in Nevada was down by a not inconsiderable 25% compared to 2008.

As such, Nevada was assuredly a solid victory for Romney, but it also underscored the man's basic weakness. He was and still is the Whirr/Clack Mechanism, and let's face it, he's just not loved. There is a surprising, perhaps even rather confusing, emptiness to the man: you can't help but feel that, if you take away the robust exterior, you'll find that there's nothing inside.

Later today, Colorado, Minnesota and Missouri will all have their say. For various reasons, none of these states will make a huge impact in the long run. For one thing, the caucuses in Colorado and Minnesota will be non-binding, whilst the primary in Missouri will be even less significant, since the delegates there will actually be allocated on the basis of a caucus to be held on March 17th. And Newt Gingrich isn't even on the ballot in Missouri (which is why Rick Santorum has been campaigning there quite rigorously).

Saying that the caucuses in Colorado and Minnesota are non-binding does not, however, mean that they are unimportant. The situation in these two states is roughly comparable to that of Iowa: further elections will be held down the road and the delegates who'll ultimately go to the Republican Convention (and vote for the presidential candidate of their choice) will be decided then and there. However, this is the first step in the selection process. (A difference between Colorado and Minnesota is, as I understand it, that in Colorado the caucus is the first step in actually selecting the delegates, whilst in Minnesota, there is no formal link between the caucus and that selection. The Minnesotan vote is actually a sort of straw poll.)

Of the three states, it's surely Colorado that is most relevant to the delegate selection process. It will be interesting to see how well Romney does there, taking the 2008 results into account. In that year, he got no less than 60% of the vote. For what it's worth, my prediction is that he'll do less well this time round. Why? Well, all sorts of reasons, but the primary one is what I've been talking about all along. It's that Romney is, well, Romney.

It'll also be interesting to see what happens in Missouri, precisely because of the skewered nature of the contest. If Santorum wins, he'll live to fight another day; if he loses significantly, he may well drop out.

The Republican Gang, Part Four

Iowa, New Hampshire, South Carolina...

It's been an interesting few weeks, to be sure!

When last I posted, Romney had just won Iowa, if only by eight votes. It was effectively a tie, but, well, someone has to be declared the winner, and that winner was Romney. Duly noted: one up for the Whirr/Clack Mechanism.

As for New Hampshire, well, Romney did as well there as may be expected. He won a comfortable 39% of the vote, with Ron Paul trailing him at 23%. To put this into some perspective: in 2008, McCain won New Hampshire with 37%, and Romney came in second with 31%. So: Romney did better there this time around, and even though there may be some doubts as to the substance of that improvement, he thoroughly whooped his main adversaries, with both Gingrich and Santorum limping along at the back of the field with a modest 9% each. Two up for Romney.

And then, of course, we had South Carolina. Wild mood swings all round, it seemed. When last I posted (on January 4th), Gingrich was leading in the polls in the state by 16%. Now, those polls weren't minty fresh even then, and they most certainly hadn't taken the New Hampshire results in their stride. Polls released a while later reversed the situation; suddenly, Romney had dashed to the fore and was leading by some 10%.

Ah, the pundits said. It might all be over soon; Romney will wrap up the nomination by winning all three early states. History will be written, and the Mechanism will ride in triumph through the streets of Florida. His whirr will be wondrous; his clack convincing.

Alas, though, it was not to be. Just two days before South Carolinians headed off to their ballot boxes, a weird thing happened: Romney lost Iowa. It wasn't by much, to be sure: in the official tally, his eight vote advantage was turned into a 34 vote deficit. But, well, someone had to win, and it turned out the winner was Rick Santorum, after all.

And when January 21st came along, it appeared South Carolina had changed its mind again, too. They'd reverted to the Not-Romney, and as far as they were concerned, the Not-Romney was called Newt Gingrich. Gingrich won the state with 40%, a solid 12% lead over Romney.

And so, it turned out, Romney hadn't triumphed at all. He hadn't won the first three states; he only managed to win the smallest one (New Hampshire). He might well go off and ride into Florida with his moneybags a-jingling and an army of staffers at his back, but he is no Caesar yet.

*******

So what happens now?

Well, in the end, the answer may well be sought by looking at the situation from a negative point of view.

Let's face it: Romney is not well-loved by many Republicans. They don't trust him. They don't know him. He just isn't one of them. And there is, in truth, not all that much Romney can do about this. He can't, because those Republicans are essentially right. Romney's a Mormon; he is a multimillionaire who earned his money in ways that most people do not understand but mistrust instinctively; his track record as a politician is moderate as best and downright opportunistic at worst.

As such, Romney is a very big duck waiting for his Porky.

The thing is, though, Romney's Porkies aren't all that convincing, and there aren't all that many of them left. Bachmann is out, so is Cain. Huntsman's joined them, as has Rick Perry. The list of Porkies therefore boils down to Gingrich, Santorum and Ron Paul. Of these, Paul can't be considered a Porky at all; he's decidedly anti-Pork, in fact. Paul follows his own agenda, and that agenda does not include hunting ducks.

So it's just Gingrich and Santorum. Of these two, Santorum immediately disqualifies himself. Frankly, one really can't imagine him as Porky; at best, he might pose as Porky's young nephew. He's a relatively innocuous piglet who goes around shooting anything with wings and missing without fail. To misquote Jed Bartlet: he's a peashooter in a Magnum world.

And that leaves Gingrich, whose appearance alone elevates him to a great Porky figure. Could he be? Could he really take down Romney? After South Carolina, there's at least a chance. A good chance, surely.

Well, in many ways, the Porky description fits Gingrich perfectly. The thing is, though - as anyone who knows his Loony Tunes will tell you - Porky isn't the best duck hunter in the world. In fact, he's pretty dismal. I mean, he wears a jacket; he's got a bow tie. He might sport a hunting cap. But he doesn't get his Daffy, does he?

And so Romney will, in all likelihood, survive. He won't survive because of any redeeming qualities of his own; he'll simply get by because, well, his opponents are Porkies.

In other words, to put it negatively: Romney is still the hands-down favourite to win the nomination. Not because he deserves it, but because his opponents deserve it less. Not because he's good, but because the others are worse.

*****

A few final words on the Republican nomination process. In Part Three of this series, I pointed out that the Republicans had taken a good look at the Democratic nomination battle between Obama and Clinton in 2008, and decided to create something similar for themselves. They changed the rules, hoping for a protracted struggle between the candidates.

Well, given the current results, they may well get it. I'm not at all sure they should be happy, though. The thing is, the 2008 struggle was a positive one: Democrats were divided about who they liked more. Obama was good, but Clinton was better - or was that the other way around? Gosh, let's see...

2012, however, may well be the other side of the coin. It may well be negative, not positive. It may well be a question of who's worst, not who's better. And that's not a struggle you want to drag out, I'd think.

The Republican Gang, Part Three

So: January 4th, 2012. Another month, and another shake-up in the Republican race.

The results from Iowa - the first time anyone could actually vote - are in. And it's abundantly clear that... err, that....

No, darn it! Nothing's clear at all! Romney "won" Iowa. He won it by getting 24.6% of the vote; he won it by doing worse than in 2008, when he managed 25,2%. And he won it by a measly 8 votes. That's a third of Bachmann's 23 children, for Christ's sake.

And who came in second? Not Bachmann, of course. Or Gingrich, or even Ron Paul. It was, instead, Rick Santorum, the guy who's be polling at approximately 0,002% all year long. Santorum, the Winchester Weasel, suddenly became the mouse that squeaked the Grand Republican Squeak.

There's something rotten in the GOP, indeed, and my word, it has never been clearer than it is now.

Who won the Iowa caucus? Well, I suppose the answer would have to be Barack Obama.

So what now?

Well, conventional wisdom will tell you that Romney - for all his faults, for all his manifest unlikeability - will now go on and sew up the nomination pretty easily. And I suppose that might well be the case. Not because of Romney's strengths, mind, but simply because it's very difficult to see any meaningful challenge emerging from his sorry band of would-be usurpers.

That might be the case. Then again, it might not.

Consider: Romney's riding high in New Hampshire; he should win by a very comfortable majority. But a win by anything less that the current poll lead (the Real Clear Politics average puts that at a whopping 21%), might well be considered a loss.

And afterwards it's South Carolina. And after that, Florida. And currently Romney isn't leading in either of these states. Instead, it's Gingrich who's ahead (by 16% and 7% respectively). The pundits will tell you that all that will change, and that, as the primaries in those states loom larger into view, Romney will simply have too much money and be backed too fully by the GOP establishment to not score well in those states. But you only have to believe one thing to realise that might not be true. You only have to believe that the majority of Republican voters simply don't want him. And if you look at the Iowa caucus, there's ample reason to believe that that's true.

And all this, of course, is playing out against the backdrop of the Rules (the Rules of the Republican Party, to be precise). It's ironic, but these rules may well become a bit of a burden for the GOP.

Let me explain.

In 2008, the Republicans lost. McCain never really had a chance against Obama; the Presidential contest was, in effect, over before it began. The Republicans, as you might imagine, took some note of this, but for some reason known only to themselves, they decided to blame their defeat, not on the fallibility of George W. Bush or the lack of viability of McCain, but on the process of election. There'd been this great big battle between Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton, they reasoned, so the answer's simple. If we change our rules and have our own great big battle, we'll win.

As a result, the Republicans changed their election rules. In particular, they changed Rule 15, which now reads (insofar as relevant):

(1) No primary, caucus, or convention to elect, select, allocate, or bind delegates to the national convention shall occur prior to the first Tuesday in March in the year in which a national convention is held. Except Iowa, New Hampshire, South Carolina, and Nevada may begin their processes at any time on or after February 1 in the year in which a national convention is held and shall not be subject to the provisions of paragraph (b)(2) of this rule.

(2) Any presidential primary, caucus, convention, or other meeting held for the purpose of selecting delegates to the national convention which occurs prior to the first day of April in the year in which the national convention is held, shall provide for the allocation of delegates on a proportional basis.

What this means is, firstly, that any state that holds a caucus or a primary prior to February 1st 2012 be will penalised. The penalty is simple: such a state will have it's delegate count halved. Yes, that's right: all the results from New Hampshire, South Carolina and Florida will all effectively be halved. (Rather weirdly, Iowa is exempt, the reason being that it doesn't actually allocate delegates on the basis of its caucus; that allocation comes later on).

Secondly, it means that any primary or caucus held before April 1 2012 will have to be, at least to some degree, proportional. That is: the results of such a caucus or primary will have to be weighed proportionally to the votes being cast, and the delegates allocated will have to be split according to that vote. It's not longer a winner-takes-all system. In the case of Iowa, for example, the results would mean that Romney takes 13 delegates out of the state, whilst Santorum takes 12.

The two changes together, mean, simply put, that it has become much harder to sweep through the first few contests and win the whole caboodle in one fell swoop. As long as there are candidates that have enough money and sufficient organisation to keep going, the process will drag on.

So what will the effect of these new rules be? At first glance, they would not seem to hinder a Romney bid. If anything, the Whirr/Click Mechanism is well oiled; organisation is not going to be a problem. As for wealth, well, anyone care to bet $ 10,000?

But look a little closer, and the problem for Romney becomes clear. Romney won Iowa, but only by a third of Bachmann's children. He did worse there than four years ago. Republicans just don't want him. As long as the rest of the field is fragmented, he's fine: he may well be the 25% guy, but that might well be enough to get him the nomination. But, as the process drags on, the field is going to be whittled down. The first casualty is already known: it's Michele Bachmann. The next to go may well be Ron Paul (who might sail off for a Libertarian bid), or Huntsman. And even as that happens, the not-Romney vote will start to coalesce; it will start to gather like a pall around the remaining competitors (say, Newt Gingrich or Perry). And it is quite possible that, if this happens, 25% will seem very paltry indeed.

And so, in the wake of the Iowa results, nothing is clear at all. Romney should win, there's no doubting that. And he will, but only as long as the competition against him remains fractured. The moment it solidifies around a single candidate - the ultimate Not-Romney - he's in trouble.

The question, therefore, isn't really how well Romney does. It's how well (or how badly) the other guys do. It's whether or not there's anyone amongst them who can rise above the field and take Romney on.

In the end, I doubt that will happen. But who knows? Those pesky, dastardly voters might decide otherwise and blow the whole thing up.

I mean really, will people never learn?