Trailhead: A campaign blog.

Why Do Losers Make Great Speakers?

By Derek Thompson 

Al Gore’s speech last night in Denver was the opposite of his failed 2000 presidential campaign—funny, fresh, even a little inspiring. John Kerry’s speech the night before was quotable and downright side-splitting compared with his wooden self in 2004. And Hillary Clinton’s speech on Tuesday? The sometimes chilly candidate was praised for crushing at the convention center.

Why do we love speeches by candidates who lost? Do we lower the bar out of pity? Or do they really jump higher?

It probably has more to do with the bar. Presidential candidates have to be unflappable but human, talented but humble, transcendent but relatable. But if you lost an election, there’s no such requirement. That’s why Hillary got to talk about the "sisterhood of the traveling pantsuits." Al Gore mocked his own narrow loss. Even Kerry snuck in a line about McCain "being for it before he was against" certain policies.

But self-deprecation isn’t why their speeches succeeded. It’s because they transcended the criticisms that dogged them throughout their campaigns. Hillary seemed more emotive and put her legacy in the context of women’s rights and civil rights. Kerry looked comfortable and aggressive, though he was neither in 2004. And Gore flashed the same hip wonkiness he’s rocked for years—that is, the years after 2000.

If there’s a lesson here, it’s not that losing makes you charismatic. It’s that running for president makes you stiff. Message control is paramount to modern campaigns, but it’s also a candidate’s straitjacket hemmed in by voter interests, poll-tested buzz words, and obligatory nods to patriotism and family. In 2004, Kerry played the military card with painful stiltedness, saluting the audience, "reporting for duty," and yammering about Old Glory. In 2008, Kerry played the consummate Obama advocate, mixing direct attacks on John McCain with flairs of humor that electrified the convention center.

Sen. Clinton slouched off the shackles of candidacy even faster. Often criticized for her coldness on the stump, she gave a generous concession speech in June that drew raves. In Denver, she summed up a central issue—the moral smallness of Hillary-first Democrats like PUMA—better than anyone "I want you to ask yourselves: Were you in this campaign just for me?" she asked. "Or were you in it for that young Marine and others like him? Were you in it for that mom struggling with cancer while raising her kids?" It was the perfect question, balancing common sense with sentimentality. If she had learned to master that combo eight months ago, Thursday might have represented a different Democratic first.

Windsurfing-ing

The holy grail of campaign opposition research is the perfect metaphor: an activity or hobby or object that captures a politician's character. For George W. Bush, the metaphor has been his ranch, allowing Hillary Clinton to describe his foreign policy as “cowboy diplomacy.” For John Kerry, the metaphor was his penchant for windsurfing, which critics highlighted to suggest that his positions drifted with the breeze.

With Mitt Romney, however, no perfect metaphor has emerged. He has no special passion for flipping pancakes, nor does he collect weather vanes, nor has he ever expressed an interest in robotics. What, then, can his opponents use to symbolize his foibles?

Meh, how about windsurfing again. Who cares that he doesn’t do it? (Or at least there aren’t any incriminating photographs.) Thanks to the wonders of Photoshop, John McCain’s new ad makes it look like Romney does, goofily pasting his face onto a windsurfer’s body. “Where does Mitt Romney stand?” a voiceover asks. “Whichever way the wind blows.”

Forget Swift Boating. John Kerry should reach across the aisle and speak out against windsurfing-ing.

Is John Kerry the Next Pat Robertson?

Obama supporters and Clinton conspiracy theorists, relax. John Kerry is endorsing Barack Obama, but it’s not the kiss of death everybody thinks. Sure, it recalls Al Gore’s endorsement of Howard Dean in 2004, but as Chris Cillizza notes, this is a different ballgame. Nor is Kerry a Hillary Clinton plant intended to ruin Obama’s change momentum. Most likely, this will end up being a very quiet, behind-the-scenes partnership in the long run.

It’s hard to remember, but think back to Pat Robertson’s endorsement of Rudy Giuliani. We haven’t heard anything from Mr. 700 Club since. Giuliani needed Robertson to prove that his message jived with evangelicals, and then he needed Robertson to shut up. 

Kerry isn’t as big of a liability, but he is the dour face of the Democratic base that Obama is trying to transcend. (Plus, Kerry did have that nasty soldiers-are-dumb moment in 2006.) For Obama, Kerry is a gateway to the Democratic establishment that can make his change message even more legitimate and a key resource in the fund-raising battle with Hillary Clinton.

If Edwards continues to fade, the Democratic race will be a one-on-one showdown where money will play an even more important role than it did in small, retail-politics states. The candidates will be holding more rallies and fewer house parties since they need to hit multiple states before Feb. 5. That means ads are their most important surrogates—and that means money is their most important asset. 

The real worry for Obama fans is not the curse; it’s that Kerry didn’t even think the endorsement was a boon to Obama back in December. According to the New York Times, Kerry had made his support for Obama known to the campaign before Iowa’s caucuses, but everybody decided to hold off on a public announcement until after New Hampshire. Maybe they were worried about the curse, or maybe they were worried about Kerry weighing Obama’s hope message down. Either way, I doubt we’ll be hearing from Kerry too often.