Cruz's Gambit

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We have a Republican presidential primary coming up on Tuesday along with two caucuses (Utah and American Samoa) — then two weeks until the next time voters go to the polls. Time is short — almost two–thirds of the states have been heard from now.

I hear a lot of talk of a contested convention, but there has only been one convention in my lifetime — the 1976 Republican convention — that went down to the wire. I have my doubts that this year's convention will be the second almost–contested convention in my lifetime.

See, the thing is that Donald Trump's candidacy is the kind of phenomenon that political observers have rarely seen. They function in a world of conventional wisdom, but what is happening is spinning conventional wisdom on its ear. In 1976 conventional wisdom eventually won out, and President Gerald Ford defeated challenger (outsider?) Ronald Reagan.

Trump reminds me more of Ross Perot in 1992 — a wealthy man who promised to run government efficiently, like a well–run business. Trump has gone far beyond where Perot ever did, perhaps because he has pursued the presidency through an established party rather than seeking the office as an independent.

Trump also reminds me, in a way, of Barack Obama eight years ago. Trump is not the first outsider businessman to seek the presidency, just as Obama was not the first black man to seek the presidency. But Obama capitalized on and exceeded the achievements of his predecessors, and Trump appears poised to exceed Perot's achievements as well.

It's easy to forget from the perspective of 2016 what Perot achieved in the general election of 1992. He didn't carry any states, but he received nearly 19% of the national popular vote.

On the Republican side it is, essentially, down to two candidates, Trump and Ted Cruz. There is a third candidate, Ohio Gov. John Kasich, but he is already mathematically eliminated from a first–ballot nomination even if he runs the table the rest of the way in this new winner–take–all delegate environment. He is no longer focused on winning the nomination on the first ballot, when most delegates are committed to certain candidates by the voters of their states. He is looking beyond that.

However, with Marco Rubio out of the picture, Cruz appears to believe he has a chance to inflict some damage on Trump and, if not secure enough delegates going into the convention to assure himself of the nomination, have enough delegates committed to him to prevent Trump from winning the nomination on the first ballot.

Cruz has been talking about how well he has performed in closed primaries — primaries held in states where voters are required to declare their party affiliation upon registering and vote in only that party's primaries. And that's true.

But there are two sides to this coin.

Cruz contends he is the best choice to be a standard bearer for Republicans because he has outperformed Trump in primaries in which only registered Republicans can participate.

Trump has performed better in the open primaries where voters can declare in which party's primary they want to participate, and he has been drawing support from Democrats and independents. Some have been motivated by a desire to throw a wrench into the works, but others have been motivated by genuine support for Trump. Consequently, Trump can argue — with at least some validity — that his victories in the open primaries demonstrate his appeal for the broader electorate in the general election.

This phase of the electoral calendar may tell us who is right — or, at least, whose case makes the most sense to Republican voters.

The primary on Tuesday is being held in Arizona; it's a closed primary that will award all 58 of its delegates to whoever finishes first. Based on Cruz's logic, he should do well there, right? Well, the latest Merrill Poll, released just a few days ago, found the winner is likely to be Trump.

Kasich's strategy is different. He knows he can't win the nomination on the first ballot so his objective is to prevent Trump from reaching the magic number and force the Republican nominating process to a second ballot for the first time since 1948. If Cruz can win in the West, Kasich will be trying to win in the East — in places like Pennsylvania and New York.

Call it a triangulation theory. It's also a longshot, at least at this stage of the race. Trump is more than halfway to the number of committed delegates he needs to win the nomination on the first ballot.

The New York primary is a closed primary that will be held on April 19. According to the Emerson Poll that was released Friday, Trump has a decisive lead over Cruz there. Kasich is no help; he barely drew 1% in the poll. New York is a winner–take–most primary, which most likely means Trump will win about 80 or 85 of the state's 95 delegates.

Pennsylvania's winner–take–all primary is a week later — on April 26. The most recent survey I have seen from Pennsylvania was published about a week and a half ago. It was Harper Polling's survey, and it showed Trump with a 2–to–1 lead over Marco Rubio, who suspended his campaign after losing in Florida about a week after Harper's poll results were published. Unless something dramatic happens, Trump seems well on his way to winning Pennsylvania's 71 delegates.

There will be other primaries, too, but the ones I have just mentioned are the ones that are likely to get the most attention in the next five weeks. Anyway, for Cruz and Kasich, the news doesn't get much better in those lesser primaries.

On April 5, Wisconsin holds a winner–take–all primary. It will be an open primary, too, so Democrats and independents can participate if they wish, and Wisconsin is the only state doing anything that day. Whoever finishes first wins 42 delegates. I haven't seen any polls from there so I don't know who is leading, but I can say that Wisconsin was one of those Rust Belt states that was hurt by trade agreements in recent years. That seems to have benefited Trump in Michigan and Illinois.

New York also will have the political spotlight to itself, but Pennsylvania will be one of five states holding primaries on April 26. Those states are mostly in the Northeast, which will be a test for Kasich's appeal to a presumably more centrist electorate.

The other four states to vote on April 26 are Connecticut (26 delegates), Delaware (16 delegates), Maryland (38 delegates) and Rhode Island (19 delegates). All but one of those April 26 primaries will be closed. Rhode Island's primary is "semi–closed" — whatever that means.

And most of the primaries being held that day will be winner–take–all contests. Connecticut is winner–take–most and Rhode Island is proportional. Since most of the primaries that day are closed, that should favor Cruz, based on his own assessment, but the region of the country should be more favorable to a moderate like Kasich. Polls indicate, however, that Trump is leading and may improve on his lead in the weeks ahead.

And, of course, looming out there on the Western horizon is California with its winner–take–all prize of 172 delegates. California Republicans won't vote until June 7, but in the latest poll I have seen 38% of likely voters favored Trump. It is worth noting that the poll results were released the day of the Florida and Ohio primaries. Rubio was still in the race, and Kasich had not yet won his home state, but both were included in the poll with Trump and Cruz. Rubio polled 10%, which by itself would not be enough for Cruz to overtake Trump. Neither would the 9% who said they were undecided.

Together, though, they would be enough — as long as not too many of those voters broke for Trump. That is how sizable Trump's lead is in California.

Clearly, it's a pretty steep mountain Cruz and Kasich must climb if they are to prevent Trump from claiming the nomination in Cleveland this July.

Of Caucuses and Primaries and Conventional Wisdom and Bellwethers

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One of the things that makes American politics so fascinating is the fact it is constantly evolving. Something is always conventional wisdom — until it isn't.

For example, conventional wisdom once held that a candidate for president who had been divorced could not be elected president. A noteworthy example is Illinois Gov. Adlai Stevenson, who was nominated by the Democrats in 1952 and 1956 but lost both times. He had been divorced in the late 1940s — and did not marry again — and most of the books I have read about Stevenson and presidential politics indicate that his divorce was an obstacle he could never overcome in the more puritanical environment of the 1950s.

But I wouldn't rule out other contributing factors, such as:

When Stevenson ran in 1952, Democrats had held the White House for 20 years, and incumbent Harry Truman's popularity was mired in the 20s, according to Gallup. Voter fatigue was likely a strong factor.

Stevenson's opponent in 1952 was war hero Dwight Eisenhower, who was less than 10 years removed from his triumph in World War II. The amiable, popular Eisenhower was seeking a second term in 1956. That was likely another strong factor.

Stevenson was perceived as an intellectual; while that had appeal for some, it was seen as elitist by blue–collar voters. Yet another strong factor.

Divorce was still a problem for would–be presidents in the '60s. It was problematic for New York Gov. Nelson Rockefeller, who unsuccessfully sought the Republican nomination in 1960, 1964 and 1968, but not necessarily a permanent problem. In 1960 his problem had not been divorce but Vice President Richard Nixon. Between 1960 and 1964, however, Rockefeller was divorced from his wife of more than 30 years. Divorce was still an issue in many places, but, as historian Theodore H. White observed at the time, "American politics can accept divorce: for every four new marriages each year, one old marriage breaks up. ... Divorced candidates get elected and re–elected in American life; and even after his divorce Nelson Rockefeller was re–elected."

But, White went on to observe, "Remarriage ... complicates even more the political problem," and Rockefeller's remarriage definitely complicated his presidential campaigns in 1964 and 1968.

Rockefeller did become vice president. When Gerald Ford, the first to be appointed vice president under the provisions of the 25th Amendment, became president after Richard Nixon's resignation, he nominated Rockefeller to take his place. But when Ford was nominated in 1976 for a full four–year term as president, Rockefeller was not his running mate.

It was ironic, I suppose, that, while Ford was never divorced, his wife Betty had been married and divorced prior to her marriage to the future president.

Four years later, divorce and remarriage were not issues at all when Ronald Reagan sought and won the presidency. He had been divorced in 1949 and remarried in 1952, but he was elected president twice by landslides.

In 2016, divorce and remarriage clearly are not part of the political equation. The apparent Republican front–runner, Donald Trump, has been divorced twice and is on his third marriage.

Today, conventional wisdom is being challenged in other more — shall we say? — conventional ways. In truth, conventional wisdom is always being challenged — sometimes successfully, sometimes not. Eight years ago, conventional wisdom still held that a black man could not win the presidency. In my grandparents' America — and even my parents' America — that was so. It is so no more.

And, in my grandparents' America and my parents' America, the primary in tiny New Hampshire always played a significant role in the selection of a presidential nominee. New Hampshire only chooses a handful of delegates in its primary, though; alone, they are unlikely to influence the eventual decision at the convention unless the vote is very tight. The primary's real value is in the media attention and perceived momentum it gives the winners.

And much of that was due to New Hampshire's reputation for choosing the ultimate winner of the general election.

It is important to remember that presidential primaries are largely post–World War II creations. For much of our history, the delegates who selected presidential nominees at their parties' conventions were chosen by state party conventions, and the delegates to those conventions were generally chosen at the county level via caucuses.

Thus, caucuses, although not how the delegates from most states are chosen today, have deep roots in the American political system. They operate in quirky and inconsistent (from state to state) ways, but that was how the majority of states chose delegates to the national conventions for a long time.

Primaries have existed since the early 19th century, but unless you're well over 40, you probably have no memory of a time when primaries were still a secondary form of delegate selection — if delegates were chosen at all. Some primaries were called "beauty contests" because the results were not binding on the delegates who were chosen.

New Hampshire has been holding first–in–the–nation primaries to choose delegate slates since 1920. The names of candidates were on the ballot starting in 1952, and the history of the primary from 1952 to 1988 was that it was possible to win a party's presidential nomination without winning the New Hampshire primary, but it was not possible to win the presidency.

But the last three nonincumbents to win the presidency — Bill Clinton, George W. Bush and Barack Obama — did not win the New Hampshire primary before being elected president. All three won it when they ran for re–election.

Clearly, the conventional wisdom about the New Hampshire primary has changed. It is still the first primary in the nation, but its influence is questionable.

The role of the primary system in the selection of presidential nominees changed in 1976 when Jimmy Carter made a point of running in every primary. Prior to 1976, candidates could pick and choose where to campaign. In many states, delegates were not obligated to follow the primary results when they voted for a presidential nominee at the national convention.

After 1976, voters expected every active candidate's name to be on their state's primary ballot. Whereas maybe one–quarter of states (at most) held primaries in the years before Carter's historic campaign, each party will have primaries in 38 states in 2016.

And the results in each will be reflected in the delegates who go to Philadelphia (Democrats) and Cleveland (Republicans) this summer.

OK, so divorce/remarriage no longer matters in presidential politics, and the winner of New Hampshire won't necessarily win the presidency.

If you're looking for a political bellwether, we may have just witnessed one in South Carolina yesterday.

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Businessman Donald Trump won with just under one–third of the vote. Ted Cruz and Marco Rubio were locked in a battle for second place and appear to have emerged as Trump's leading challengers. Cruz, of course, won the Iowa caucuses. Rubio has yet to finish first in any presidential electoral contest, but both he and Cruz predicted they would be nominated. Ohio Gov. John Kasich finished fourth. Former Florida Gov. Jeb Bush withdrew, and Dr. Ben Carson appears to be in the race at least through Nevada's Republican caucuses on Tuesday.

As I observed a few days ago, the South Carolina Republican primary has been won by the party's eventual nominee in every presidential election year but one since 1980 — the last three Republican presidents won the South Carolina primary before being elected. Historically speaking, Trump's win there yesterday should make the nomination, if not the general election, a done deal.

Of course, he also won in New Hampshire, and the history of the last 24 years indicates that, while the winner there might win the nomination, he won't win the election.

Both streaks could continue this year — if Trump wins the nomination but loses the election. Much will depend upon what happens in the next couple of weeks. Polls are suggesting that Trump will win Tuesday's caucuses in Nevada by more than a 2–to–1 margin. Super Tuesday is a week later. If Trump is on a winning streak after Super Tuesday, it will probably be all but over — especially since Cruz's home state of Texas will be voting on Super Tuesday.

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The Democrats held their caucuses in Nevada yesterday, and Hillary Clinton defeated insurgent socialist Sen. Bernie Sanders, but by a margin that was almost as narrow as the one she had in Iowa.

She seems likely to win next Saturday's South Carolina primary by a comfortable margin — but that was also the conventional wisdom before Iowa and Nevada.

Conventional wisdom holds that Clinton will score well with black voters in South Carolina, who represent more than half of the state's Democrats, because of the good will many blacks still have for her husband. If that proves to be true, she will no doubt win the primary — and in a big way.

But she is still facing a problem with young voters, and the Nevada caucuses revealed her weakness with Latino voters. Neither group has a reputation for voting in large numbers, but they have appeared to be a part of the new emerging Democrat coalition.

What will the outcome in South Carolina next Saturday tell us about the new conventional wisdom concerning those demographics?

Scattershooting on the Night of the New Hampshire Primary

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I've been watching the results from the New Hampshire primary tonight.

Although there was much talk about how many New Hampshire voters don't make up their minds until the last days before the vote, I can't say the results surprised me. I knew what the outcome would be. I guess everyone knew what the outcome would be. Donald Trump won the Republican primary. Bernie Sanders from neighboring Vermont won the Democratic primary.

For me, the entertaining part was hearing their speeches. That's when the show really began. I heard several of them — and darned if they didn't all sound like they won, even though only two, Trump and Sanders, actually did.

First I saw Hillary Clinton give her basic stump speech, and she sounded like she had won — although she got Berned by more than 20 percentage points. I guess she was getting in some practice for a couple of weeks from now, when she is likely to win by as much — or more — in South Carolina as she lost by in New Hampshire.

I heard John Kasich's speech, in which he sounded like he, too, won, although he lost to Trump by better than two to one.

I had an odd feeling when I watched Marco Rubio.

See, I was a big fan of The West Wing when it was on the air, and I especially enjoyed the last two seasons that chronicled the rise of a Latino from Texas to the presidential nomination — and, eventually, election as president.

There were several things about Rubio that just reminded me of Jimmy Smits, who played the longshot candidate, a virtual unknown. The character Smits played was more left of center whereas Rubio is more right of center, but it wasn't most of the things Rubio said that reminded me of Smits as it was gestures, mannerisms, even pronunciations.

I have heard it said that when Smits' character was written, it was partly modeled after Barack Obama, who was a state senator in Illinois at the time but whose ambition for higher office was already well known. And Smits' character certainly had a lot in common with Obama philosophically.

But I never had the same feeling with Obama that I have with Rubio concerning their similarities to Smits' character — and, as a writer, I guess I am always looking for those examples when life imitates art.

Could that be what is happening on the Republican side this year?

The Rubber Hits the Road

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The past, as they say, is prologue, and the changing of the calendar to the official start of a presidential election year brings a new seriousness to the pursuits of the parties' presidential nominations.

All that went before was little more than strutting and posturing. The party campaigns were popularity contests last year, entertaining but, once the holidays are over and the primaries loom on the horizon, the rhetoric becomes strangely irrelevant.

Participation is what is relevant, and that is a whole other thing.

The people who participate in the voting that will matter — the contests that will assign the actual delegates who will be voting at this summer's conventions — will be highly motivated, especially the ones who participate in the caucuses. They are very different from primaries.

If you live in a caucus state, you must get organized with like–minded folks so you can make an effective case for your candidate at the caucus. Caucus goers often have to devote several hours to their caucus — as opposed to those who vote in primaries, in which you may have to stand in line for awhile but, eventually, you will only spend a brief period in the polling booth — and you will do so alone. With the extended voting periods in so many states, if you plan it well, you can walk right in, vote and walk back out in a matter of minutes. I know. I've done it.

Taking part in either a primary or a caucus does require a level of commitment that not everyone is willing to make. Those are the only poll results I want to see. It doesn't really mean anything until people start voting in primaries or caucuses.

The people who attend political rallies may be registered to vote, but registered voters and likely voters are two different breeds altogether.

It doesn't take much commitment to attend a political rally. Donald Trump has been drawing thousands to his rallies, but many in the crowds are those who, while they may be registered to vote, do not tend to make a habit of voting. Thus, they are not likely voters.

Of course, the same could be said of many who attended Ross Perot's rallies in 1992, but in the end Perot brought nearly 20 million Americans into the electoral process. It remains to be seen if Trump's supporters can match Perot's in terms of commitment.

And we'll start finding out in three weeks, when Iowa holds its caucuses.

The closer we get to actual voting, the more pollsters seem to be moving in the direction of differentiating between merely registered voters and likely voters.

Reach Communications' most recent survey ahead of the Feb. 9 New Hampshire primary was conducted with Republicans and independents who said they would be voting in the primary. Donald Trump led by 20 percentage points. Fox News' most recent poll was with likely voters, who are determined through a series of screening questions. That survey showed Trump with an 18–point lead.

Public Policy Polling's latest survey — also conducted among likely voters — shows Trump with a 14–point lead.

The Trump–Ted Cruz battle in the Feb. 1 Iowa caucuses could be fierce. The most recent Gravis Marketing survey in Iowa was conducted in December, but it, too, emphasized those who were likely to participate. It found Trump and Cruz tied at 31% apiece.

"Many more people say they will vote than actually do," observes the Gallup Organization at its website, "so it is not sufficient to simply ask people whether they will vote."

Gallup's screening questions are:

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Thought given to election (quite a lot, some)
Know where people in neighborhood go to vote (yes)
Voted in election precinct before (yes)
How often vote (always, nearly always)
Plan to vote in 2016 election (yes)
Likelihood of voting on a 10-point scale (7-10)
Voted in last presidential election (yes)

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Each pollster uses its own screening questions, but the process is essentially the same from one to another.

My guess is that, as we get closer to each primary or caucus, the polls from each state will be conducted with likely voters.

And that is when we will start to get an idea whether a candidate's support has any real depth to it.

Jeb's Hail Mary

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There was a time when Jeb Bush was regarded as the Republican Party's front–runner for the 2016 nomination — a prospect that elicited groans across the political spectrum. No one, it seemed, relished the idea of another Bush–Clinton campaign — even though, to be old enough merely to remember the first one, never mind the issues of the campaign, I imagine one would have to be at least 30 years old.

Nor, for that matter, did many people seem to be enthusiastic about the prospect of a third Bush presidency.

But that was before Donald Trump came along, seized the lead and held on to it for months, defying gravity in a political environment that has long been accustomed to seeing a front–runner of the week in races for the Republican nomination.

Meanwhile Jeb has been sinking like a stone in a pond. The former front–runner has been mired in single digits in the polls for weeks now.

I continue to believe, as I always have, that polls conducted in the early stages of presidential nominating contests mean little. I have seen too many front–runners falter. Most of the time, the front–runner winds up winning ... but not always. That is why early polls mean little to me. They're usually about name recognition and little else (which makes it telling, I suppose, that so many Democrats choose someone other than Hillary Clinton, who was first lady for eight years, senator for another eight and secretary of state for four, or continue to say they are undecided when asked their preference in 2016).

It's what people do when they are in the privacy of the voting booth that matters.

So I prefer to wait until people actually start voting before I begin the process of deciding for whom I will vote. And, being an independent, I don't tend to vote in primaries, anyway. So I can wait until the parties have made their decisions before I choose a candidate to support — if I do.

But I'm in the minority on that one, I suppose. It never fails to amaze me — the faith that people place in polls conducted more than a year before an election is to be held and how so many things — chiefly financial and popular support — ride on something that can be as imprecise as public opinion polling.

Bush's latest move should come as no surprise. He is redeploying his resources away from ad buys and boots on the ground in Iowa and South Carolina and focusing on New Hampshire (where recent polls conducted by American Research Group and CBS News/YouGov show Bush in single digits) and some other early primaries.

(That's another thing about presidential politics that I have always found troubling — how something as important as a major party's nomination for the presidency of the greatest nation on earth can hinge on the electoral whims of the voters in a state — New Hampshire — with a total population that is only slightly larger and much less diverse than the city in which I live — Dallas. But that is another subject for another day.)

Bush's decision is a desperation move. You can call it that, or you can use other names for it — a "Hail Mary" or a by–the–seat–of–your–pants strategy. Whatever you call it, the Bush campaign is struggling and needs something to give it some juice. That will be easier said than done.

"The decision will keep Bush from paying for roughly $3 million of reserved TV time in January," explains Ed O'Keefe in the Washington Post, "a little more than $1 million in Iowa, just under $2 million in South Carolina."

See? It's a dollars–and–cents thing, pure and simple.

But South Carolina will be the second primary on the Republican calendar. New Hampshire votes in its first–in–the–nation primary on Feb. 9 a week after the caucuses in Iowa (where a Gravis Marketing poll shows Bush with only 4%); South Carolina (where the most recent CBS News/YouGov poll has Bush at 7%, far behind Trump and Ted Cruz) votes two weeks later. I presume that, if Bush rallies and wins in New Hampshire, he will re–redeploy resources to South Carolina.

That is the essence of the "Hail Mary" strategy. You do it, and, if it succeeds, you will probably have to do it again — and perhaps again. Football teams that have to go to the "Hail Mary" often need to make up more than one score. The romanticized vision of the "Hail Mary" is a single long pass, like the one Roger Staubach threw in the playoffs 40 years ago, but the realistic one is that it is more like the "domino theory" of presidential politics

That will be Bush's last chance to establish some momentum before the March 1 "Super Tuesday" primaries in 10 states — Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Georgia, Massachusetts, Oklahoma, Tennessee, Texas, Vermont and Virginia. That is the big day, and my guess is that several campaigns will come to an end within days of Super Tuesday — unless each state votes for someone different, and that doesn't seem likely to happen.

But that suggests faith that the polls are right, and they may not be. They may be overstating Donald Trump's support (which may be made apparent as we move into the post–holiday phase when, per the conventional wisdom, voters start paying closer attention to the candidates), or they may be, as I wrote recently, understating it.

Even if Bush survives until Super Tuesday, he has other problems that he has to hope stronger–than–expected showings in New Hampshire and South Carolina will help to resolve. Polls in Super Tuesday states don't have good news for the Bush campaign — if they voted today. In Massachusetts, a Boston Globe/Suffolk poll has Bush in fourth place with 7%, 25 points behind Trump. In Oklahoma, the most recent Sooner Poll has Bush at 2%.

There are, of course, still three states that have not chosen dates for their primaries — Maine, North Dakota and Wyoming — but even if they schedule their primaries on one of the other days when multiple primaries will be held, there still will be no other day when as many states vote as Super Tuesday.

That will be the real Hail Mary for those who win — as well as those who survive — in New Hampshire and South Carolina.

What's Wrong With Voter ID Laws?

I've heard endless arguments about the voter ID laws, especially the one on the books here in Texas, and I must confess that I still don't understand the problem some people have with them.

I mean, what is wrong with proving that you are authorized to vote? You have to present such ID to buy alcohol or cigarettes. You have to present such ID when you apply for a loan or if you're going to rent a vehicle or an apartment — or a motel room.

The vice president has been beating that drum about voter ID laws being racist and fueled by hatred.

I am an independent, and I have found no compelling reason to vote in either party's primary this year (early voting here ends Friday; the primaries are next Tuesday) so I can't speak firsthand about experience with the voter ID law, in effect for the first time.

(Voters in Texas do not register by party so it's largely a personal affiliation kind of thing. When you go to the polls, you are asked in which party's primary you wish to vote.

(If there is a runoff, you can only vote in the party in which you voted in the original primary. But two years later, when the next primaries are held, you can choose the one in which you want to vote all over again. You are not committed to a party beyond the current primary.)

They've been issuing voter ID cards here in Texas for years — new ones are sent out every two years — and voters are supposed to present them when they vote. Now, apparently, additional ID is required as well.

I've heard it said that voter ID laws are racist, that they are intended to prevent minorities from participating.

But here's what it says at VoteTexas.gov:

Here is a list of the acceptable forms of photo ID:

• Texas driver license issued by the Texas Department of Public Safety (DPS)
• Texas Election Identification Certificate issued by DPS
• Texas personal identification card issued by DPS
• Texas concealed handgun license issued by DPS
• United States military identification card containing the person's photograph
• United States citizenship certificate containing the person's photograph
• United States passport

With the exception of the U.S. citizenship certificate, the identification must be current or have expired no more than 60 days before being presented for voter qualification at the polling place.

How does that prevent anyone from voting? And if a qualified voter doesn't have any of those, at the top of the website is this sentence: Qualified voters without an approved photo ID may obtain a free Election Identification Card from DPS. Look at the VoteTexas.gov site all you want. It doesn't say anything about literacy tests or any of that other stuff.

And I haven't heard a single report of anyone being denied the right to vote in this primary season. I assume that, if someone had been denied the right to vote, that person would have been worth a lot to the anti–voter ID crowd, which is almost exclusively Democrats (who have been in the political minority in this state for decades) — and, consequently, we would have heard something about it by now. Early voting has been going on for more than a week now. Haven't heard a thing. So again I ask: What's the problem? Before he was elected vice president, before he was elected to the U.S. Senate, Joe Biden was a lawyer, a product of the Syracuse School of Law. He should know that, in the United States, the law requires evidence to prove guilt, that everyone is considered innocent until proven guilty.

Where is his evidence that voter ID laws are racist?

Why We Can't Have a Serious Talk

Last night, I read an article in the Washington Post about the recent electoral embarrassments that have been handed to Barack Obama in Democratic primaries in West Virginia, Arkansas and Kentucky.

Obama, of course, is the incumbent, and he has drawn no serious opposition for the Democrats' nomination. Consequently, some people apparently believe, the Democrats in the primaries that are being held late in the process should line up like good Democrats and vote for the incumbent.

Even if they have objections.

But the voters in West Virginia, Arkansas and Kentucky have thrown Obama an off–speed pitch when he was looking for a fastball. About two–fifths of the Democratic voters voted for token opposition — in West Virginia, that meant voting for an inmate who is presently incarcerated here in Texas — rather than for the president, who long ago secured his nomination.

The Post's Chris Cillizza writes that many Democrats have a ready excuse for the political resistance they have encountered within their own party — they "ascribe the underperformance by the incumbent to a very simple thing: racism."

Most Democrats speak disparagingly of George W. Bush. And I have no fondness for him, either.

But this is a tactic those Democrats share with Bush and his supporters — and they have been every bit as gleeful in its use and in anticipation of its power to squelch serious discussions.

Sure, it was disguised differently when Bush was president. In those not–so–distant days, anyone who disagreed with Bush on anything was labeled unpatriotic.

End of discussion. Once you have been tarred with that brush, you might as well stop trying.

No matter how strongly you may feel about the issue, no matter how many legitimate concerns you may have, no matter how many hours you may have spent arguing with yourself about it, if the other side has labeled you a racist or unpatriotic, there is nothing you can say to reverse that conclusion, no logic you can offer, no facts you can provide.

But that doesn't mean the allegation is true.

Oh, to be sure, there are people today who do permit race (or religion or gender or sexual preference or anything else) to determine how they will vote, just as there have always been people who were racist (or sexist or homophobic or whatever). And there are people among us who are not patriotic Americans — they have always been with us, too.

That's one of the drawbacks of living in a free society.

But it's not so easy to know who the racists and unpatriotic citizens are. In my experience, they usually don't advertise the fact or leave tell–tale clues behind. They might share their views with like–minded individuals, but they don't usually tend to share them with strangers.

"The problem with that theory," Cillizza writes, "is that it's almost entirely unprovable because it relies on assuming knowledge about voter motivations that — without being a mindreader — no one can know."

It's true that Obama lost all three of those states in 2008, and it is quite likely that he will lose all three in 2012. I don't see a racial backlash in these votes. I see a repeat of a phenomenon I have seen many times in the past — when a candidate locks up his party's nomination, disgruntled voters in the late primaries are emboldened to vote for any alternative on the ballot.

It's an electoral protest, and it should be taken seriously. My experience tells me Democrats shouldn't be dismissive about it.

In 1980 (when another Democrat president was running for re–election), I was living in Arkansas. Gov. Bill Clinton was seeking his second two–year term as governor. He looked like a sure thing. He was young and charismatic, and his only opponent in the party primary was a 77–year–old retired turkey farmer who barely scraped up enough money to pay the filing fee.

Clinton's opponent had no campaign staff or finances to speak of, but he received more than 30% of the vote when the Democrats held their primary.

The governor's staff and supporters insisted that it didn't mean a thing, and, in Arkansas, it was generally accepted that it really didn't mean much. Arkansans, after all, had elected only one Republican governor since Reconstruction.

But they elected another one that November — narrowly.

Both political extremes use the term fascism almost casually in their references to each other, which I find to be alarming — as well as an appalling display of an absence of knowledge.

Neither side is truly fascist — at least, not yet. But, with their blatant use of what Adolf Hitler called "the big lie," it is clear that it probably wouldn't take much to push either one over the edge.

"Make the lie big," Hitler said, "make it simple, keep saying it, and eventually they will believe it."

It was a lie when Bush's supporters accused his detractors of being unpatriotic. It's a lie when Obama's supporters accuse his detractors of being racist.

It has a chilling effect on dissent, and that makes it one of the most anti–democratic (that's democrat with a lowercase d) assertions imaginable.

The Awkward Southerner

Four years ago, I remember Mitt Romney taking a lot of grief from Southern journalists, both broadcast and print, over his efforts to appear to be one of us.

I always felt that was a mistake on Romney's part. I didn't think it cost him the Republican nomination because I never really felt he was in the running for the nomination, anyway. But I felt it was a mistake that cost him some votes in the South.

Folks from outside the South often make fun of Southerners. They think we're stupid and backward — and, OK, some of us are, but the region is not disproportionately so, and we're smart enough to know the real thing when we see it.

I grew up in the South, and I think the thing that probably matters more to Southerners than any other quality in a politician is authenticity. Is he what he seems to be?

Southerners are as susceptible as anyone else to the appeal of those with whom they believe they have the most in common, I suppose, and that would go a long way toward explaining some of their past primary preferences.

(When Jimmy Carter was elected president, I remember thinking that it would be refreshing to have a president who spoke the way most of the people in my world spoke.)

But, in the end, I don't think Southerners particularly care whether the candidate is from the South as long as they get the sense that he is genuine, that he shares their values.

The way some journalists are covering the campaign in the South — Steve Holland of Reuters, for example, writes that Romney "is laying it on as thick as a syrupy Southern drawl as he tries to court the South" — practically sneers "Insincerity!"

But that isn't really fair — either to Romney or Southerners.

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"Morning, y'all," Romney told a campaign rally on Friday in Jackson, Mississippi. "I got started this morning right with a biscuit and some cheesy grits," he joked.

Steve Holland
Reuters

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I'm sure that gets a lot of laughs from Northern elitists, but I prefer Romney's way (and so do many of the people I know) to the condescension of a real elitist who comes here in the heat of the campaign and acts as if he is intimately acquainted with us and our ways.

That was essentially what Romney did in 2008. Most of the Southern states had primaries that year, but Romney exceeded 20% of the vote in only three and exceeded 30% of the vote in only two — although many Southerners would argue that Florida, which was one of those states that gave Romney more than 30% of the vote, didn't qualify then (and doesn't qualify now) as truly Southern because so many of its residents migrated there from other regions of the country.

But, in 2012, Romney is not trying to come across as the long–lost prodigal son. He acknowledges that his roots are elsewhere. If Romney seems disingenuous to non–Southerners for joking about eating biscuits and cheesy grits for breakfast, it's different with Southerners.

"I realize it's a bit of an away game," Romney said in Alabama the other day, and Southerners are OK with that. We know the rest of the country doesn't eat grits and that it will usually eat biscuits (or cornbread) only if nothing else is available (or it has something else wedged in the middle, like a sausage patty) — so we get the joke when a candidate from someplace else makes a point of telling us that he ate those foods. We know he doesn't eat that every day.

(Actually, in my experience, cheese is added to grits mostly to make the dish more palatable to non–Southerners. A real Southerner will eat grits with a little salt and a little butter — and come back for more. Cheese adds a little flavor, but it isn't essential.)

It's a regional point of pride, kind of like a Philly cheesesteak. It isn't to everyone's taste, and we don't expect a candidate to pledge to eat nothing else if we give him our votes. We just like to know a candidate is willing to try it when he's asking us for our support.

Let me tell you a true story.

It was a tradition at the school where I began my college career to hold a goat roast every spring. It was mostly an excuse to have a big keg party where local bands would play for hours, but one of the features was the roasting of an actual goat, and the meat was served between two slices of white bread.

I think you could add ketchup or mustard or mayo if you wished, but I don't really remember which, if any, condiments were available.

The admission price entitled one to partake of the food being offered, and attendees had the option of eating more mainstream fare if they wished — but most people opted to eat goat. My memory is that it didn't really have much flavor, and it wouldn't be my choice for a meal, but I ate it, anyway.

It was expected.

Local food specialties and politics go hand in hand in the South. I went to catfish fries and all sorts of similar gatherings when I lived in Arkansas. The food is part of the event, and guests are expected to at least try it — and, once they do, folks will sit back and listen to what they have to say.

A savvy politician will try it and, even if he doesn't like it, he will fake it.

That isn't being dishonest — or even disingenuous.

It's being a smart politician.

Super Tuesday

Republicans in one–fifth of the 50 states voted in primaries or caucuses yesterday.

Jeff Zeleny of the New York Times insists that no "knockout punch" was delivered — and that may be so, but it is hardly surprising that someone at the Times, given the overwhelming advantage that left–leaning columnists enjoy there (and the fact that the Times' general editorial policies have favored the left for a long time), should feel that way.

The Wall Street Journal, which is not a left–leaning publication, also is not convinced that Super Tuesday has given anyone the momentum he needs to win the nomination. The Journal says Super Tuesday was a "split decision — "While Mitt Romney had a good night and stretched his lead among delegates, Rick Santorum did well enough to more than justify staying in the race."

The fact remains, though, that Mitt Romney finished first in six of those 10 contests. His margin of victory ranged from impressive to slim, but he can claim to have beaten party rivals in two of the biggest prizes that are likely to be up for grabs on Election Day in November — Florida and, now, Ohio.

Three if you include Romney's victory in Michigan (which hasn't necessarily been in doubt in recent elections, but, because it has been through such a difficult time in this recession, it could be a swing state in 2012).

The win in Ohio was particularly impressive, I thought. Santorum led Romney there by double digits a few weeks ago, but he finished second to Romney there yesterday.

True, Santorum did win three contests (North Dakota, Oklahoma and Tennessee), but they were in states the Republicans are sure to win in November, anyway — and only the win in North Dakota was unexpected.

And Newt Gingrich won Georgia, the state he represented in the House for 20 years, but Georgia, too, is all but certain to be in the Republican column.

If Gingrich had lost in Georgia, that could have been a game changer. Without a win in his home state, Gingrich's best move probably would have been to fold up his tent — leaving the ultra–conservative vote to Santorum, who could have re–focused his efforts on winning the support of Republican centrists and right–of–center voters.

Instead, the fight for the extreme right will go on — to Alabama, Mississippi and Kansas next week.

Romney also won a few states that will probably vote Republican in the fall — Alaska and Virginia (which voted for Barack Obama in 2008 but are likely to be in the Republican column this November) — but he demonstrated an ability to win in states that will be important to Republican hopes for recapturing the White House.

No one is suggesting, of course, that Romney can win in Vermont or Massachusetts. But the voters there are more centrist than the Republican voters in general, and being able to win their support is going to be an important element in what is likely to be a complex and extremely tight campaign this fall.

There are still serious issues to be discussed — and, hopefully, they will be discussed between now and Election Day. Hopefully, this campaign will not prove to be like so many in recent times — in which minor distractions have been given most, if not all, of the attention.

Anticipating Super Tuesday

There's always a Super Tuesday in America's presidential politics — at least in modern times.

Presidential primaries are, as I have mentioned here before, relatively new phenomena in American politics — historically speaking.

Before Jimmy Carter made a point of entering every primary that was being held in 1976 (which caused a bit of a fuss back then), candidates would choose to enter some primaries and not to enter others.

After Carter was elected president, more states opted to hold primaries in both parties, and candidates felt obliged to enter all or most of them.

Somewhere along the line, each party's leadership happened on to the notion of holding several primaries on a single day, creating a Super Tuesday that would unofficially separate the presumptive nominee from the pretenders.

There are both pros and cons in this, and it is not my intention, on this occasion, to argue in favor or against having a Super Tuesday. That decision has been made for this presidential election cycle, for good or ill, and we're going to have one tomorrow.

So my objective is to anticipate what is likely to happen. More delegates will be up for grabs on Tuesday than have been committed so far:

• Georgia (76 delegates): Newt Gingrich represented a House district in northwest Georgia for 20 years, and he appears to have an unshakeable lead among the Republicans there.
  
  If Gingrich wins his home state, it will be only his second win in the primaries — and both will have been in the South. He won't have established himself as a vote getter in any other region.
  
  I don't know if his campaign will continue after tomorrow, but even if it does, I really don't think he will be much of a factor the rest of the way.


• Ohio (66): This is really the big prize. Although Ohio is not the most delegate–rich state that is voting on Tuesday, people pay attention to the results there because Ohio is a large state and what happens there is often seen as a national barometer.
  
  And, in fact, Ohio does have a reputation for being a national bellwether. What's more, no Republican has ever been elected president without winning Ohio.
  
  Thus, it is an attractive target. Victory there could have significant implications for the rest of the GOP race.
  
  As late as last week, polls showed Rick Santorum with a narrow lead over Mitt Romney. But I'm inclined to think that Romney's win in Saturday's Washington state caucuses — a state in which Romney's campaign didn't expect to do well originally — could give him the momentum he needs to win Ohio.
  
  Romney seems to sense as much. As CNN reports, the former Massachusetts governor appeared confident as he campaigned in Ohio during the weekend.


• Tennessee (58): Santorum may lose Ohio — I think he will — but his message is stronger than Romney's in the conservative South, and my sense is that he will win the Volunteer State handily.
  
  If Romney is the Republican standard bearer, though, I see most, if not all, the states in the South voting for him — as they did when John McCain — and, before him, Bob Dole — was the nominee. Romney will need to work to win over Southern Republicans, but he won't have to work too hard to get their votes this fall.


• Virginia (49): With only two names on the ballot — Romney and Ron Paul — this could be a deceptively lopsided primary.
  
  I was discussing this with my father the other night, and he observed that Paul would win his usual 10% of the popular vote. That's probably an exaggeration. I expect Paul to be a little more competitive in Virginia than that — I mean, there must be some voters in Virginia who would like to be voting for Santorum or Gingrich, but neither is on the ballot so they have no alternative but to vote for Paul if they wish to record their dissatisfaction with the apparent nominee.
  
  Nevertheless, I do expect Romney to win by a wide margin in Virginia.


• Oklahoma (43): I grew up in the South. Most of the time, I lived in Arkansas, but I also lived in Tennessee (briefly). As an adult, I have lived mostly in Arkansas and Texas, but I lived in Oklahoma for four years.
  
  Many people consider Oklahoma a part of the South, but I don't. To me, a Southern state is any state that was part of the United States when the Civil War occurred and chose to fight on the side of the South. Oklahoma did not join the Union until the 20th century.
  
  Oklahoma is every bit as conservative as any traditional Southern state, though, and that could certainly be bewildering at first glance. There are, after all, more registered Democrats than registered Republicans in the state. But, in many cases, Democrat has a more middle–of–the–road definition in Oklahoma than it does anywhere else, and the truth is that Oklahomans have only voted for the Democrats' presidential nominee once in the last 60 years.
  
  Sometimes their support is a bit tepid, but more Oklahomans vote for the Republican than the Democrat. Every time.
  
  Consequently, if Romney wins the nomination, I think he can count on Oklahoma's support in November — but I don't think he can count on Oklahoma tomorrow. Only registered Republicans will be voting, and they are a decidedly conservative bunch in Oklahoma.
  
  There was a definite evangelical influence in Oklahoma politics when I lived there, and I have no reason to think that has changed. My sense is that Santorum's anti–abortion, anti–contraception fervor will resonate with Oklahoma Republicans, and I expect him to win the Sooner state.


• Massachusetts (41): I've heard nothing to indicate that Romney won't win the state where he served as governor.
  
  He beat McCain in the 2008 primary, and I expect him to win easily tomorrow.


• Idaho caucuses (32): This one bewilders me. Idaho held a primary four years ago but switched to a caucus, which tends to appeal to party activists more than casual participants.
  
  The 2008 primary offers no clues to how Idahoans might vote. McCain won it with 70%. Paul received 24%.
  
  But Idaho is a rock–ribbed Republican state. Three–quarters of its state senators and more than 80% of its state representatives are Republicans, as are Idaho's governor and both of its U.S. senators.
  
  No Democrat has won Idaho since 1964, and, in most elections, Democratic presidential nominees cannot count on the support of as much as 40% of the voters on Election Day.
  
  I feel confident in predicting that the Republican nominee will win Idaho this fall, but I don't have a clue who will win there tomorrow.


• North Dakota caucuses (28): North Dakota is as much an enigma to me as Idaho.
  
  It has roughly the same history of supporting Republican candidates — albeit not as decisively — although, to be fair, it was fairly competitive in 2008.
  
  Nevertheless, I am inclined to think that the Republican nominee will win North Dakota in November. Who will win it tomorrow is less certain.


• Alaska district conventions (27): I haven't heard any poll results from Alaska, and I am unaware of any campaign appearances that any of the Republicans have made there.
  
  But Alaska is like North Dakota and Iowa. It is likely to vote Republican in November. Of the 13 presidential elections in which it has participated, Alaska has voted Republican in 12.
  
  Alaska does seem to have something of a libertarian streak so it wouldn't surprise me if, in a four–way race, Paul might be able to win Alaska.


• Vermont (17): Vermont was once a reliably Republican state.
  
  In the 19th century, Vermont routinely gave at least 70% of its votes to the Republicans. In the 20th century, it never voted for Franklin D. Roosevelt, even though it had four opportunities.
  
  But the Democrats have carried Vermont in the last five presidential elections, and they probably will again. Vermont leans to the left these days — it gave two–thirds of its ballots to Obama in 2008. Even its Republicans, who have a lot more in common with retiring Maine Sen. Olympia Snowe than they do with most of the Republicans who are seeking the presidency, are more centrist than most.
  
  My guess is that Vermont's Republican primary will have a fairly low turnout and that Romney, the former governor of neighboring Massachusetts, will finish on top.

If one of the candidates can win half of the states that are holding primaries or caucuses tomorrow, that candidate can claim to have won Super Tuesday.

But if no one wins more than three, it will be inconclusive.

When Presidential Politics Began to Change

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Presidential politics began to change on this day 35 years ago, although no one knew it at the time.

Not even Jimmy Carter, and he is the man who was responsible for the change.

On this day in 1976, the people in New Hampshire went to the polls to express their preferences for president in both the Democratic and Republican primaries.

Carter was but one of about half a dozen people on the Democratic ballot. Only two candidates — President Ford and Ronald Reagan — were on the Republican ballot.

New Hampshire, of course, was then, as it is now, the first state to hold a presidential primary, and all the hopefuls — the longshots as well as the favorites — came to pursue every possible vote. In modern times, New Hampshire's retail politics has both launched and destroyed presidential campaigns, and in 1976, until this day, most of the serious contenders for their parties' nominations were on the ground there, each hoping to be the one to catch lightning in a bottle.

Historically, however, presidential primaries were relatively rare prior to 1976. Delegates were still chosen via caucuses or in the old–fashioned smoke–filled rooms, where politicos made deals with no consideration given to their constituents' wishes. Before 1976, many primaries were nothing more than popularity contests.

When things got started in 1976, the three Democrats who were probably considered the front runners for the nomination were Sen. Henry Jackson, Gov. George Wallace and Gov. Jerry Brown. A fourth — Ted Kennedy — was probably the sentimental choice of many Democrats, but he declined to seek the nomination.

Carter made a point of entering every Democratic primary, taking his case directly to the people. He really had no choice. When the primary season began in 1976, he was virtually unknown nationally, even though he had finished ahead of five other rivals in the Iowa caucuses in January.

(People often think Carter won those caucuses, but he didn't. He finished second to "uncommitted.")

The Iowa caucuses really didn't have a lot of clout in those days — and that, too, I think is something that Carter changed because, as he had hoped, Iowa gave him some momentum — and he did go on to win the New Hampshire primary four weeks later.

There was talk at the time that the results might have been different if Jackson had entered both Iowa and New Hampshire, but he did not, and his victory in the Massachusetts primary the following week could not derail Carter, who won the next 10 primaries and, in essence, clinched the Democratic nomination in late spring.

With the nomination assured, Carter could take his time in selecting his running mate, a luxury that was rarely available to presumptive nominees prior to that time.

"If an instant choice had been required at that time," Carter wrote in "Keeping Faith," his presidential memoir, "it would have been Senator Frank Church of Idaho, or perhaps Senator Henry Jackson of Washington."

Jackson, however, might have caused problems within the party. His support for the Vietnam War had been divisive. Church would have caused no such problem.

Ultimately, of course, Carter chose Walter Mondale.

"I have always been thankful that we formed this partnership," Carter wrote. "He has sound judgment and strong beliefs and has never been timid about presenting them forcefully to me. But whenever I made a final decision, even when it was contrary to his own original recommendation, he gave me his full support."

The relationship between the president and the vice president would be forever changed by the Carter–Mondale partnership. Until they were elected in 1976, most presidents seemed to ignore their vice presidents.

But that, of course, was still in the future. On this day in 1976, it was far from clear who would be the Democrats' standard bearer that fall.

When I think of that day, I think of a ritual that I started the day before and repeated frequently that year with a dear friend of mine. I've written about her here before. I knew her as "Aunt Bess."

I had been visiting Aunt Bess on Wednesday afternoons for about four months when the 1976 presidential campaign got under way. She was old enough to be my grandmother, and she would listen to whatever I had to say as intently as any grandmother would.

Our Wednesday afternoons together were special for both of us. She would pour glasses of tea or Coke or whatever she had on hand, and we would sit and sip our drinks and talk for an hour or more on the issues of the day. If the weather was nice, we might sit outside. Other times, we would sit in her dining room, which was rather small but had the benefit of a large window through which we could watch the world while we talked.

Then, when our time was up, she would prepare to leave for church, and I would return home.

It is a memory that means a great deal to me now. I loved Aunt Bess very much. In fact, she and another good friend of mine, Phyllis (I've written about Phyllis here frequently since she died last August), were members of the same Baptist church in my hometown.

(Actually, the fact that they were both Baptists really isn't significant, I suppose. I was brought up in the Methodist church in my hometown, but the fact is that, then as now, Baptists far outnumbered any other religious group in Arkansas.

(When I lived there, it really wasn't possible to not have friends who were Baptists. Well, perhaps it was possible, but I know it wasn't easy. Can't say I ever tried to prove or disprove it, but I'm pretty sure it is so. More than three–quarters of Arkansans are Protestants, and half of them are Baptists. I don't know what the percentages were in Conway at that time, but they probably mirrored the rest of the state.)

By late February 1976, we had been talking about the presidential campaign for several weeks. We had both become Carter supporters since his strong showing in Iowa, and we both hoped a Southerner could win the nomination and the general election, but neither of us would commit to the idea that it was probable — or even possible.

In February 1976, Carter had generated some talk, but there wasn't much evidence, even after the New Hampshire primary, that he was anything more than the flavor of the month, the latest manifestation of the public's desire to sweep away the last remaining traces of the Nixon years.

Then, the day before the primary, I remember calling Aunt Bess on the phone and giving her my prediction for what would happen the next day.

I remember few specifics about my prediction — except that I correctly predicted who would win on each side. Carter's victory that day really wasn't a big surprise. He had been in the news after his showing in Iowa, and I predicted that he would receive about 30% of the vote. He actually got 28% of the vote, but that was clearly more than the runnerup, Mo Udall, got.

I was most proud, at the time, of my prediction in the Republican primary. President Ford and the GOP establishment were nervous about Ronald Reagan, and many believed Ford was vulnerable for a number of reasons.

It turned out they were right — but in the general election, not the primaries, even though Reagan did make things interesting, to say the least.

Prior to the primary, most observers said the GOP race was a tossup. I told Aunt Bess that Ford would win by a single percentage point — and he did.

In hindsight, though, I'm proud of something else. I told Aunt Bess that I thought Carter would be the Democrats' nominee — "and I think he'll beat Ford." I didn't mention it again, and I have seldom thought of it in years.

I still like to predict the outcomes of presidential primaries and elections. We still have one presidential election every four years, but there are a lot more presidential primaries than there were when Carter first sought the presidency.

And that is a major part of his legacy.

I've Seen That Movie, Too

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On June 9, 1982, I covered Bill Clinton's press conference
the day after his runoff victory in the gubernatorial race.

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That was the name of a somewhat obscure song on Elton John's "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" album nearly 40 years ago.

And, if you don't recognize it, that's understandable. There were several songs on that double album that got a lot more airplay, both at the time and in the years since. In fact, to be honest, I'm not sure I ever heard "I've Seen That Movie, Too" played on the radio. It's something of a favorite among John's fans, not so much for the rest of the mainstream audience.

I wouldn't call myself an Elton John fan — I like some of his albums, don't care for others. But that song has been on my mind lately as I have watched the parade of political primaries in the spring and early summer.

I've seen this movie before, I keep telling myself. And I really think I know how it will end. Of course, I could be wrong. That's the way it is sometimes with remakes — the ending of the remake differs from the ending of the original.

But this plot is so familiar. I just can't imagine a radically different conclusion.

At some point — I can't pinpoint precisely when — 2010 became known as the "anti–incumbent" year. I never really bought that — last month, for example, I speculated that centrists, not necessarily incumbents, were threatened in our polarized political atmosphere.

MSNBC's Rachel Maddow apparently has reached the conclusion that the "anti–incumbency" furor is fiction. "[A]ctually all the incumbents are winning," she said Wednesday night.

Now, before I go any farther, let me say that I like Maddow — as a person. Sometimes I agree with what she says. Sometimes I don't.

I don't believe this particular conclusion is correct or incorrect — yet. I believe it is premature. For the most part, the parties have been been standing by their men — or, in the case of Arkansas' Democrats, their women. The real test of the incumbents will be this fall, when all of a state's voters can pass their judgment.

I do think Maddow is right when she suggests that, many times, when the pundits pronounce something, it becomes a self–fulfilling prophecy through sheer repetition — not unlike the "Big Lie" of which Hitler wrote in "Mein Kampf."

This particular fiction, Maddow insists, was decided on by the "Beltway media" — everyone's favorite whipping boy — who "decided that this was going to be anti–incumbency year. The anti–incumbency theme was going to be the story that they told to explain politics this year."

But a funny thing happened on the way to throwing all the bums out, Maddow said. The voters didn't hold up their end of the bargain.

Whoa!

I beg to differ. All the voters haven't been heard from yet.

Now, earlier this week, Sen. Blanche Lincoln, who is widely regarded to be a centrist, survived a hotly contested runoff in my home state of Arkansas against Lt. Gov. Bill Halter, who was considered the liberal in the race. Perhaps that was the last straw, as far as Maddow was concerned.

I admit, I expected Halter to prevail. My Democratic friends who live in Arkansas have their issues with Lincoln, and my impression is that Democrats in general have moved more to the left in recent years. Consequently, I believed that, in a one–on–one confrontation, the more liberal candidate would win the nomination of today's Arkansas Democrats.

Liberals have always been in the distinct minority in Arkansas. Nearly all of the Democrats who have been successful there in general elections in the last 50 years have been centrists. Before that, I suppose, most Arkansas Democrats would be considered conservative by modern standards.

That doesn't mean that Arkansas' Democrats have always nominated centrists in the last half century — and some of those "centrists" haven't been as centrist as they were advertised to be — but the successful ones always managed to balance some liberal views with some conservative ones.

Well, I haven't seen any exit polls or any comparisons of the vote in the May 18 primary to the vote in Tuesday's runoff. But you can only vote in a runoff if you participated in the original primary, and my guess is that a lot of people took it for granted that about 13% of the voters, who originally supported a conservative businessman who ran third in the primary, would support the challenger, so great is the apparent dissatisfaction with Lincoln in Arkansas and with incumbents in general.

I don't know if either candidate benefited from the third candidate's votes to any extent. But turnout was down about 25% for the runoff, and that could easily include everyone who voted for the third candidate plus another 40,000 or so who voted originally for Lincoln or Halter.

So maybe it was simply a matter of Lincoln doing a better job of getting her voters to return to the polls for the runoff than Halter did.

I learned a long time ago that runoffs in Arkansas are strange and wondrous things, and this one seems to have been no different.

Without getting into too much detail,

• I questioned the wisdom of allowing Obama to make a radio commercial for Lincoln just before the May 18 primary.
  
  Obama isn't particularly popular in Arkansas — and, I reasoned, while Obama's support might tip the balance in the race for the Democratic nomination, it might weigh heavily on Lincoln in the fall campaign, when the participants in general are apt to be more conservative.


• Perhaps Lincoln countered that response by bringing in former President Bill Clinton in the final days. He always has been popular in Arkansas. In more than 40 years, he's the only Democrat (except Jimmy Carter in 1976) to carry Arkansas in a presidential election, and he carried it twice. No Democrat had done that since Adlai Stevenson in the 1950s.
  
  Arkansans elected Clinton their governor five times, usually by impressive margins. They liked him. They had probably heard every rumor about him that could possibly be spread between his first statewide race (for attorney general) in 1976 and his last gubernatorial campaign in 1990, and they knew some of what was said about him was probably true, but they trusted him all the same.
  
  The Democrats of today are the philosophical descendants of the Democrats who nominated Clinton in the 1970s and 1980s — minus those who found themselves at odds with some elements of the party's agenda. There seems to be a great deal of regard for Clinton among today's Arkansas Democrats.


• The problem for Arkansas Democrats is that there aren't as many of them as there used to be. When I was growing up, the candidate who won the Democratic primary for just about anything was, in effect, elected. It isn't that way anymore.
  
  When I was a child, Arkansas had six representatives in Washington as it does today — its two senators and four representatives in the House. For decades, the two senators were John McClellan and Bill Fulbright, and one of the state's congressmen was Wilbur Mills — three men who seldom had to face serious challengers back home — in either party primaries or general elections. Consequently, they accumulated seniority that brought power and prestige — and pork — to their comparatively small state.
  
  But things began to shift in the 1970s.


• To get an idea of that, let's compare this year's Senate race to some high–profile campaigns from the past. Nearly 330,000 people voted in the May 18 primary. Three weeks later, just over 250,000 voted in the runoff. The estimated population of the state in 2008 was a shade under 2.9 million.
  
  In 1974, Fulbright ran for a sixth term in the Senate. He was challenged by Gov. Dale Bumpers, who built a reputation as a political "giant killer" when he was elected governor, coming from virtual anonymity to defeat former Gov. Orval Faubus in the Democratic primary and then incumbent Gov. Winthrop Rockefeller in the general election.
  
  Bumpers was billed as a "new Southern Democrat," a liberal alternative to Fulbright, who, in addition to promoting his share of perks for his state, had opposed the Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act along with most of his Southern colleagues — but also had been one of the leading critics of Vietnam policy, which was not exactly in line with the more hawkish positions taken by many Southern Democrats.
  
  Nearly 600,000 Arkansans voted in that primary. Based on the 1970 Census, it is fair to assume the state's population in 1974 was around 2 million, about two–thirds of the estimated 2008 population figure. Yet the turnout in a high–profile Democratic Senate primary (long before cable and 24–hour newscasts) was nearly twice what it was in 2010.


• As exhibit B, consider the Senate Democratic primary of 1978. McClellan died in 1977, about a year before the conclusion of his sixth term, and Gov. David Pryor, in accordance with state law, appointed a caretaker to complete McClellan's term, then ran for the office himself. He was challenged by two congressmen, Jim Guy Tucker (who later became governor) and Ray Thornton (who had achieved a certain amount of national notoriety as a member of the House Judiciary Committee that impeached Richard Nixon in 1974). Their primary campaign drew nearly the same number of voters as the 1974 Bumpers–Fulbright showdown.
  
  So, in the last 36 years, population has gone up while Democratic primary participation has gone down.


• Republican primary participation has never been very impressive in Arkansas. Mostly, it seemed to be the hard–core party activists who participated in Republican primaries at all, and such primaries were seldom necessary because candidates were rarely challenged within their party.
  
  The first truly competitive Republican primary I can recall there was the 1976 presidential race between President Ford and Ronald Reagan. Slightly more than 50,000 people voted in that one.
  
  Even fewer people voted in the 1980 Republican gubernatorial primary. The 1980 Census showed a population of about 2.2 million people in Arkansas, yet less than 10,000 participated in that primary (by comparison, more than 100,000 people voted in the Republican Senate primary last month). Meanwhile, hundreds of thousands voted in the Democratic primary that renominated Clinton for governor by a wide margin over a nondescript, elderly turkey farmer.
  
  But that year clearly showed me that primary results can be deceiving. The Republican defeated Clinton that November. Maybe he rode Ronald Reagan's coattails to victory. It was, after all, a narrow win — but it was a win, nevertheless.

Like this year is expected to be, 1980 was a bad year for incumbents — but not in their party primaries. A dozen incumbent Democratic senators went down to defeat that year, but only three were rejected by their own party. Nine — including a former presidential nominee — were beaten in November. And both Clinton and President Carter, who had won Democratic primaries handily in late May, lost in Arkansas in November.

I understand Maddow's frustration. And I believe she is right when she says anti–incumbency hasn't played a major role in the primaries.

But I never thought it would.

For most incumbents, Judgment Day will be on November 2. And, as much as things have changed, there are still a few truisms in American politics that are valid.

One of which is ...

The same party seldom enjoys success in three consecutive election cycles.

And the Democrats were the big winners in 2006 and 2008.

History says the pendulum is swinging back the other way.

The Polarization of America

In 2009, Barack Obama made numerous, very public attempts to reach across the aisle and enlist the support of Republicans for his initiatives. His attempts at appeasement were fruitless.

At the very least, I think we are seeing that, even if Obama and the Democrats are successful in holding slim majorities in Congress this year, bipartisanship is not going to be a realistic goal for them to pursue in 2011 or 2012. That canyon the parties have created between them is too far for either to reach across.

America has been growing more and more polarized over the years. And, in spite of the protestations from Obama's supporters that he has been uniting the nation, I believe the opposite is true.

It isn't Obama's fault. The polarization of America did not begin with him. But I believe the situation has grown worse since he took office.

It isn't really surprising, I suppose. I mean, if one is a member of a political party, it is because that person has a very definite world view, and there seems to be less and less room for competing views in either party. It was not always this way. There was a time — a fairly lengthy time, actually — when there was a "liberal wing" of the Republican Party and a "conservative wing" of the Democratic Party.

Laugh if you will, but it's true.

In fact, the liberal Republicans exerted considerable influence in their party, as did the conservative Democrats. And each party had quite a few centrists as well.

But the Republicans ran off most of the liberals, and the Democrats ran off most of the conservatives.

Now, centrists are becoming an endangered species in both parties. One left the Republican Party because he believed he would be more welcome with the Democrats, but he lost the primary yesterday. Another has been forced into a runoff against a liberal, apparently MoveOn.org type — who probably will beat her in three weeks but then seems likely to lose in the general election.

Many centrists, including myself, have concluded that there is no place for them in either party today so the ones who wish to remain active in the political discourse are choosing to become independents.

But some centrists have insisted on sticking it out in their parties. I wish them well because I really believe that both parties need to move to the middle if they are to be acceptable to mainstream Americans. As things are now, both parties are positioned too far to either extreme to make consensus–building a genuine possibility.

And Tuesday's primaries just provided more proof (to me) that I am right:

• In Pennsylvania, for example, 30–year Sen. Arlen Specter, who switched parties last year (apparently, at least in part, due to speculation that he could not win a Republican nomination battle this year), lost the Democratic primary to Rep. Joe Sestak.
  
  Some of Sestak's supporters have characterized him as a centrist, but Specter was the real centrist in the race. In 2008, the ACLU gave Sestak a 91% rating. The American Conservative Union gave him a 0% rating. Meanwhile, Specter got a 43% rating from the ACLU and a 42% rating from the ACU.
  
  Ratings from other liberal and conservative groups were similar.
  
  So ideology trumped anything else that Specter brought to the table — seniority, for example — and now Pennsylvanians must choose between an extremely liberal Democrat and an extremely conservative Republican in November. Recent polls have shown the Republican, Pat Toomey, leading by a few points but still short of a clear majority.
  
  I guess, with Democrats and Republicans tending to favor their own by wide margins in polls, the independents will have to decide the winner — but which side will they choose? They've been gravitating to the center — but there's no one there.
  
  One thing that seemed clear from the results in Pennsylvania was that Obama's coattails are very short — if they exist at all. Actually, "coattails" probably isn't applicable in a midterm election since that is a term that generally refers to a president's influence on other races when he, too, is on the ballot. Technically, Obama won't have "coattails" until 2012.
  
  But the concept does seem applicable to a president's influence on races in which he becomes an active participant — although it seems to need a different name. And, when Specter switched parties, Obama pledged to support him this year in gratitude for Specter's support for Obama's agenda. Specter counted on Obama's influence with the Pennsylvania electorate to smooth over his transition.
  
  Apparently, though, Obama didn't help Specter any more than he helped Martha Coakley in Massachusetts four months ago — or the Democrats who sought the governorships of New Jersey and Virginia last November.
  
  I guess the big difference is that Coakley and the unsuccessful candidates in New Jersey and Virginia lost to Republicans, which is bad enough for a Democratic president. But Specter lost to a fellow Democrat, which raises questions about Obama's ability to influence the voters in his own party.
  
  Or does it?
  
  I suspect that the reasons for Specter's defeat are more complicated. He spent most of the last three decades in the Senate as a Republican — during which time he never really seemed to build a base of support in either party — and 2010 doesn't look like a good year for a Washington insider like Specter to try to reinvent himself in a different party.
  
  I'm guessing that any efforts he made to persuade lifelong, activist Democrats that he was one of them proved to be a mountain too high.
  
  Because of Specter's many years in the Republican Party, Obama's support for his unsuccessful campaign in a Democratic primary doesn't seem to be as politically devastating as was his support for a Democrat who lost Ted Kennedy's seat in a Massachusetts special election.
  
  But winning a party's nomination in Pennsylvania is not the same thing as winning the general election. When I was growing up in Arkansas, winning the Democratic nomination was tantamount to victory most of the time — but not anymore. I don't know if it was ever true in Pennsylvania.
  
  Anyway, for Sestak there is more work to be done. He is not a senator–elect yet. So, if I were Obama, I think I would have a chat with the vice president and tell him to cool it on that Sestak "will make ... a wonderful United States senator" talk.
  
  Meanwhile ...


• Remember Ron Paul, the Libertarian who sought the Republican presidential nomination in 2008? He is said to have the most conservative voting record in Congress in the last 73 years.
  
  Well, yesterday, the Republicans in Kentucky nominated Paul's son, Rand Paul, a noted Tea Partier, to run for the Senate seat being vacated by Jim Bunning.
  
  Given Obama's recent track record, it doesn't surprise me that Paul told CNN today that he and his supporters are "licking their chops" at the thought of running against Kentucky Attorney General Jack Conway, particularly if Obama comes to the Bluegrass State to campaign for him.


• Finally, my home state of Arkansas, where Sen. Blanche Lincoln was hoping to avoid a runoff against Lt. Gov. Bill Halter.
  
  Lincoln was widely regarded as the centrist in the race while Halter was seen as the liberal. But, instead of taking a majority of the votes, Lincoln narrowly finished ahead of Halter and must defeat him in a runoff in June. A conservative businessman also was in the race, but he finished third with about 14% of the vote.
  
  Last night, I observed the Facebook exchanges between my friends in Arkansas, many of whom are Democrats who support Halter. They rejoiced that there would be a runoff and gleefully anticipated that most of the third–place candidate's votes would go to Halter. The momentum, they all said, was with him.
  
  Actually, that brings me to something I wrote on Saturday. I theorized, in essence, that any voter who votes against an incumbent in a primary is more likely to oppose than support that incumbent in a runoff.
  
  And, if most of the third candidate's voters do vote for Halter on June 8, he will win the runoff. It's simple mathematics.
  
  Except it isn't so simple. I'm not completely sure about that momentum thing. And I know that participating in a primary does not compel someone to participate in a runoff as well.
  
  In fact, I know from my own experience of covering Arkansas primaries and runoffs that voter participation typically drops in a runoff.
  
  But this will be a good test for my theory, as I said the other day, because:

1. we don't know how many of the third candidate's supporters will be motivated to return to the polls;


2. we don't know if his supporters — who, it can be logically assumed, are conservatives — are particularly anti–Lincoln; and


3. if the third candidate's supporters are angry at Lincoln, are they angry enough to vote for a liberal instead of a centrist?

Well, anyway, there are a lot of factors at play here.

And I'm sure there will be a lot of attention paid to the Arkansas runoff in the next three weeks.

I don't know what will happen in Arkansas in June, but I think the centrist would have a better chance of beating the conservative there in November than the liberal would. The problem for centrists is that most don't seem to have a base in their own party.

Like Republican Sen. Bob Bennett of Utah, who got kicked out by a bunch of extremist delegates to the state's Republican convention. He's a conservative, but apparently not enough of one for Utah's red–meat right–wingers. Remember those ACLU and ACU ratings I mentioned earlier? In 2008, Bennett got a 14% from the ACLU and a 64% from the ACU (by comparison, his colleague, Orrin Hatch, got a 21% from the ACLU and an 80% from the ACU).

By Utah's Republican standards, I guess that makes him a centrist.

All of which leads me to conclude that incumbency isn't really the problem in 2010 — centrism is.