The Temptation of Howard Dean

The Democrats staged the first of six presidential primary debates in Albuquerque, N.M., last week, and it wasn't exactly gladiatorial. No blood was spilled, no memorable lines unsheathed. The candidates were not eloquent, funny, clever or incisive. No one was embarrassed—except, perhaps, those who attempted to speak Spanish (the event was sponsored by the Congressional Hispanic Caucus). But the debate may prove to be a turning point, nonetheless. It illuminated a critical decision the Democrats now face—between principled opposition to the Bush Administration and populist demagoguery on the two main issues of this election, the war and the economy. This is a particularly crucial choice for Howard Dean, who wants to build his candidacy past Internet insurgency toward a broader audience. Indeed, Dean's subdued and awkward performance, and his slipperiness on both issues, seemed a rare moment of indecision in what has been a steamroller campaign. The Democrats were more united than they had ever been on the war.

They agreed that President Bush has been, as Dick Gephardt said, a "miserable failure" in the postwar period. All the major candidates favored a deal with the U.N. to bring more foreign troops into the peacekeeping operations; none counseled retreat. But a minor candidate, Congressman Dennis Kucinich, threw down a wildly provocative challenge: "We should bring the troops home now." This, I fear, is a position with a future. Many polls are showing significant public ambivalence about America's commitment to rebuild Iraq—and a clear-cut desire to spend less, not more, money on the occupation.

Such sentiments will increase, no doubt, as the occupation slogs on, the casualties and bills mount. The U.S. military dreads another Baghdad summer. By next spring the door will be wide open for a let's-get-out-of-this-mess challenge to the President. Happily, none of the major Democrats chose to walk through that utterly irresponsible door last week, but Dean—who is on the record as favoring more American troops and more money—opened it a crack. "If we need more troops, they are going to be foreign troops," the former Governor said, changing his position and glancing warily over at Kucinich, who hopes to dent Dean's support in the peaceable kingdom of Iowa. "Ours need to come home."

The populist economic temptation is protectionism. Dean succumbed early in the campaign—as Governor of Vermont, he supported the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA)—and he has now slid into cynical, extremist threats of tariffs against those countries that do not meet America's environmental and labor standards. When Joe Lieberman attacked this new position in last week's debate, Dean modified it again, saying he would accept international standards, which are weaker than American ones. Most of Dean's rivals seem to be wandering down the same path. (John Kerry, a career free trader, is suddenly open to renegotiating the existing deals.) There are extravagant lamentations over the decline in manufacturing, which accounts for the lion's share of the 3 million jobs lost on Bush's watch, but that loss obscures the more salubrious effects of free trade—lower prices. "The trade agreements of the '90s," Clinton Treasury Secretary Lawrence Summers has said, "represent the biggest tax cut in the history of the world." In truth, none of the plausible Democrats—not even Gephardt, who has made a career of protectionism—could do much more than rant about international labor and environmental standards if elected. The economic risks of tariffs are too great. But the posturing seems to be intensifying. The AFL-CIO endorsement is up for grabs, and several of the big unions that had planned to endorse Gephardt and Kerry are having second thoughts, given the Dean surge.

Dean turns out to be a flagrantly political anti-politician. As his campaign gains altitude, he seems to change a position a week. In the debate, he changed two—first on American troops in Iraq, then on American labor standards on trade. Before that, he trimmed his honorable position on raising the age of eligibility for Social Security and his support for lifting the embargo on Cuba. Dean still proudly struts his pro-gun stance in the anti-gun Democratic Party, but as often as not he points out the political efficacy of that position in the red states. The question is: How many of Dean's positions are negotiable? As victory becomes a possibility, how much integrity will he compromise to win? Another question: How long before Dean's tough talk—the apparent candor that propelled his charge—begins to seem arrogant, uninformed, unpresidential? "I think Dean confuses being smart with knowing a lot," says a prominent Democrat who wants Dean to succeed. "I'm not sure he knows a lot."

For now, the Democratic campaign is all about Dean—and the Dean campaign is all about the populist temptation. This is the moment when the high and low roads diverge, and last week Howard Dean looked like a man trying to take both.