Interesting article on the future of women as Presidential candidates.
MADAM PRESIDENT: Will She Ever Get There?
By Anne E. Kornblut, The Washington Post
As the presidential campaign draws to a close, it's commonplace to hear 2008 heralded as an excellent year for women. But has it been?
First Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton ran the most serious presidential campaign of any woman in U.S. history. Then Gov. Sarah Palin, the first woman on a Republican ticket, sparked an initial rush of excitement. Never before have women played such a prominent role in national politics, the reasoning goes, and that has laid the groundwork for even greater advancement the next time a woman runs.
But both women's campaigns devolved into such strife, their candidacies provoking such frenzied passions and mocking caricatures along the way, that it's only fair to ask whether the first woman's path to the White House was eased this year -- or whether Clinton and Palin simply unearthed the land mines without defusing any of them. If Democrat Barack Obama wins on Tuesday, he will have broken a huge barrier. But another one still awaits.
On Tuesday, Palin will emerge, win or lose, as the figure most transformed by her brief time in the public eye. After bursting onto the national scene as a moose-hunting mother of five who could rescue John McCain's campaign, the Alaska governor wound up sinking in the polls and getting entangled in a classic "girl story" about her now famous Republican National Committee-financed shopping spree. Her campaign handlers promptly threw her overboard and anonymously declared her a "whack job" and a "diva" -- hardly a moment of profound advancement. In the end, Palin seems to represent less "an explosion of a brand-new style of muscular American feminism" (in the words of the contrarian feminist Camille Paglia) than the stereotypical former-beauty-queen-made-good who seeks affirmation about her abilities while people just titter about her clothes.
Clinton moved along a different trajectory, from the lofty status of former first lady and commanding front-runner to the scrappy underdog in the Democratic primaries, fighting her way to the end of the contests and winning a sweeping 18 million votes in the process. But the New York senator's uncharacteristically tearful moment on the eve of the New Hampshire primary will forever be linked to her victory there, deservedly or not. And after her campaign ended, some of her supporters threatened to revolt if Obama picked a woman other than Clinton as his running mate. "That's feminism?" one senior Obama adviser asked me pointedly at the time.
More than just groundbreaking candidates, Clinton and Palin became cultural flashpoints. That Clinton would be ridiculed and mimicked and scrutinized came as no surprise to her team -- many of them had seen her go through a similar wringer in the White House and upon her arrival in the Senate -- but some of her advisers chalked the rough treatment up as much to her being a Clinton as to her being a woman. As the 2008 primary campaign went on, however, they increasingly spoke of a genuine double standard rooted in gender; by the end, they openly complained of sexist treatment in the media, which goes some way toward explaining why Clinton declined to criticize Palin once McCain chose the Alaska governor as his running mate.
Palin lost her luster soon after the Republican convention, stumbling on basic substance in interviews, hiding from most of the media and making claims about her record (such as having opposed the so-called bridge to nowhere) that were debunked. But rather than move to confront her weaknesses, her campaign swiftly seized on sexism as a reason Palin was being grilled in the first place. Most notably, the Republican campaign arranged a conference call to denounce Obama for using the phrase "lipstick on a pig" because just days earlier, Palin herself had made a reference to lipstick ("Disgusting comments, comparing our vice presidential nominee, Sarah Palin, to a pig," said former Massachusetts governor Jane Swift, a McCain surrogate). Professionals will argue about the political wisdom of that tactic -- it did, after all, distract attention from more serious issues that were failing to boost McCain's standing -- but few would cite it as a trailblazing moment in the history of gender politics.
More recently, another Palin subplot, in addition to the $150,000 boutique wardrobe, had emerged -- her attractiveness, and whether McCain had picked her on that basis. A recent New Yorker article by Jane Mayer noted the swoon among several neoconservatives when they met Palin in Alaska in 2007. ("Exceptionally pretty," said Fred Barnes of the Weekly Standard.) In a focus group conducted by the Democratic pollster Peter Hart last Sunday in Ohio, undecided voters were asked which of the four candidates they would most like to sit next to on an airplane. One initially picked Palin, saying, "Geez, I'm a 29-year-old male." (He then changed his answer, saying he'd rather sit with Obama.) Obama views Palin as such a liability that he ran an ad last week featuring her winking. And Palin allies are blaming her McCain handlers for her fall, starting with top communications adviser Nicolle Wallace, who helped arrange the CBS interview with Katie Couric that began Palin's downward slide. The complaints have ballooned into an ugly cat fight. Progress? Really?
Prominent women in politics have been largely focused on the good news -- that Clinton and Palin were there at all. And regardless of which ticket wins on Tuesday, a woman will have a rightful claim to being head of the opposition party. Meanwhile, many Democrats, still scared of picking the scabs from the primary wounds, have embraced Obama's ascent as a positive harbinger of its own.
"Every time we break down one barrier, the other quickly comes down as well," said Donna Brazile, the onetime campaign manager for Al Gore. "Throughout the year, most observers have tried to put race versus gender -- like, what is the greatest disadvantage? As if some of us don't represent both."
Brazile urged people to look beyond the presidential tickets for signs of advancement. "It took us 88 years to get here," she noted. "We have a speaker of the House, a secretary of state, a phenomenal woman who ran for the Democratic ticket and a woman competing to be a heartbeat away from the presidency. It has elevated the process."
Many women in the feminist movement's dominant, largely Democratic wing seem to feel that Clinton's campaign, however flawed, was a step forward -- while Palin's was a step back. "If Hillary cracked the glass ceiling, I think Sarah Palin slipped on some of the pieces of glass," said Ellen Malcolm, the founder of EMILY's List, which supports female candidates who favor abortion rights.
Except, of course, that Clinton didn't actually crack that glass ceiling. Rather, she dented it (18 million times, as she famously pointed out in her final speech in June). And along the way, her candidacy fractured the traditional women's movement: The abortion-rights group NARAL endorsed Obama (deeply angering the Clinton campaign and wounding the candidate personally), while EMILY's List and other groups stood by her, even after it appeared that she wouldn't have enough delegates to win the nomination.
That has left today's feminist movement struggling to define its mission or wondering whether it even has one. Is the goal to promote and elect women everywhere, or is it to support the candidate viewed as the best for the job, whether male or female? Wouldn't the latter be the more progressive course? Is the common purpose to back candidates who back abortion rights and liberal policies? The questions became unexpectedly urgent when McCain picked Palin in August, but they were already bubbling up by the early spring.
Then, in a strikingly similar fashion, conservative women broke into two angry camps as they struggled with whether they were obliged to stand by Palin. McCain's high command had hoped that Palin would peel away resentful Clinton supporters; in fact, she has driven away some GOP stalwarts. The conservative writer Kathleen Parker led the Republican defections, followed by former Ronald Reagan speechwriter Peggy Noonan, who disgustedly waved Palin off in one of her Wall Street Journal columns as an unqualified empty vessel who "doesn't seem to understand the implications of her own thoughts." The exodus was rooted in disdain for Palin's intellect, but in a way, the Republican departures have been even more disloyal than the feminists who chose Obama over Clinton: Parker, Noonan and others were not abandoning Palin for another partisan of stature, as the Democrats had in their primaries. They were just abandoning her.
Along the way, there have been rogues with their own takes on gender politics. Ann Coulter, a conservative provocateur who openly loathes McCain, declared herself a Clinton supporter. Paglia praised Palin's "frontier grit and audacity" (even though she has said she still intends to vote for Obama), and Ellen Lafferty, a former editor of Ms. magazine and a Clinton supporter, showed up onstage recently at a Palin rally.
But the massive wave of Clinton supporters that Republicans predicted would sweep toward McCain has never materialized, at least not according to the late-October polls. Palin's selection has turned out to be the one example in recent history of a vice presidential pick having a measurable effect on the direction of the race -- a negative one.
In the months and years before she announced her candidacy, Clinton was often asked whether the country was ready to elect a woman president of the United States. "Well, we won't know until we try," she always said.
Having tried, heading into 2009, the question is still out there.
kornbluta@washpost.com
Anne E. Kornblut covers politics for The Washington Post.
