
When Hillary Clinton’s presidential bid began to lose in earnest after Super Tuesday and her rival, Barack Obama, started to build a small lead among pledged delegates, the dynamic of animosity between the two shifted. He began to talk like a president and chose to focus his criticisms on John McCain, most notably his willingness to stay in Iraq for a hundred years. She in turn hurled small insults that landed at Obama’s feet, and he, smiling like a champion, walked away unscathed. She came across as panicked, and eager to get in front of him waving her arms and pleading with voters to “get real.” Support wasn’t so much slipping away from her as it was swelling behind him. It was a symbolic turning point.
Her supporters saw Obama as less a viable presidential candidate and more a stupid passing fad. She was the hard-working girl who dressed right and followed the rules, and she was getting upstaged by the easy-going new kid who everyone wanted to be friends with. And he was threatening to spoil the whole damn show. Even the principal and teachers had started to get sucked in – some even switched their allegiances. But it wasn’t his to take. She deserved it more. It was unfair.
To Hillary’s followers, “Obama-mania” echoed “Beatlemania:” a swooning crowd of political teenagers with a major crush, getting excited because the tunes he sang were easy and appealed to our whimsy, and sometimes screaming so loudly they couldn’t even hear the music. He made people feel good. But politics was about more than four chords repeated in slightly different order: it was about complex interludes and mature cantatas and sublime overtures. He was Paul McCartney, smiling and waving and playing a couple of pretty notes on the guitar. She was Brahms, forceful and precise. She was original. He may not have stolen the race outright, but he didn’t win on his merit or hard-core political street creds. He won on his electability.
But rules are funny things in politics, and they made Clinton’s plea to “get real” about this election seem like a weird attempt to dissuade voters from falling for some electoral hat trick. Get real? Isn’t the reality of politics – and one of its core struggles – that winning is what matters most? Being right, working hard, remembering names, accomplishing policy objectives: these are all very nice, but they all follow something more important: winning. Bill Clinton wrote the book on this reality, and his 1992 campaign showed a ferocity absent among Democratic candidates for president since President Johnson, who bullied himself into every elected office he held. Obama pressed this point in the CNN debate on February 21, calling into question her insinuation that his supporters were somehow “delusional.”
The reality is that she arrived late to the theme party of change. And when she did arrive, the guests were already mingling around the host, a tall, lanky and handsome fellow with a quick wit and easy smile. He didn’t out-spend her or out-work her. Her campaign was smart, if at times cumbersome, and she appealed to voters in a way that, under any other circumstances, would have wrapped up the nomination quickly. No, he out-charmed her, and no grand strategy could have prevented that. Her supporters are right: it’s not really fair. But it doesn’t matter now, because it’s over.