"The imposition of a sentimental, or false, narrative on the disparate and often random experience that constitutes the life of a city or a country means, necessarily, that much of what happens in that city or country will be rendered merely illustrative, a series of set pieces, or performance opportunities."
-Joan Didion – ‘Sentimental Journeys’ from After Henry
“What campaigns peddle is not simply character but character as defined by story—a tale of opposing forces that in its telling will memorably establish what a given election is about.”
-Robert Draper - ‘The Making (and Remaking) of McCain’
“The vote is our ticket to the drama, and the politician’s quest to eradicate fill in the blank is no different from the promise of the superstar of the summer movie to subdue the villain—both promise us a diversion for the price of a ticket and a suspension of disbelief.”
-David Mamet – a footnote in ‘Letters of Transit’ from
3 Uses Of The Knife: On the Nature and Purpose of Drama
John McCain is compelling.
Not as a potential President (god no, he's insanely ill-fit for that job…no, I'll be voting for his esteemed opponent in the upcoming), but as both a public figure and a private pariah, a man with many a heroic and tragic flaw. Also, and of course, as a train wreck. I am fascinated by John McCain, though less as a candidate than as a story; one we, as Didion might say, “tell ourselves in order to live”, as a narrative thread which might serve as some kind of American parable, fable, or even cautionary tale. But most specifically I am interested in his own story: the one he tells himself, the one not actually written about (though still inescapably alluded to) in Faith of My Fathers: A Family Memoir. McCain is, to my eye, like watching a Spanish bullfight; a public execution; like watching King Lear's descent into madness—engaging not as much for what has been said (which has been surreal) as much as for what is being done: every bit of it intriguing, yet—ultimately—foredoomed.
With less than a day left in his bid for the presidency, McCain is poised to fulfill the dramatic promises made by not only the singularly coherent (which is to say believable) of his campaign’s narrative threads, but that of his actual life’s story as well: and that is to lose, gloriously. To be clear, this has not been the desired outcome of any of the many, dizzying yarns McCain and his handlers have tried to sell the electorate on…no, no…this is the story they’ve unwittingly brought to its justified, dramatically-earned, and correct end—the one they’ve told instead. The exposition of this great tale was laid down generations earlier and the characterizations—both real and false—have been decades in the making. As has the deep and desperate psychology that drives the man who, even after two national campaigns, remains a stranger for the American voter—a tactic that seems, now, much less accidental. Or, rather, great efforts have been made to mask, control, spin, and bury his political and personal inadequacies; matched only by counter-efforts to fabricate, for the man, a new mythology—one based largely on explaining away the failures in his so-called defining moments, his plot points, his mistakes. Offered, instead, has been a kind of passive alibi—one dressed up as a hero’s journey. Enter: the unbelievable character sketch that McCain currently campaigns as. And make no mistake: it is unbelievable. And the polls suggest that the voters have not fallen for it, have not been fooled by the bait-and-switch, have not—despite McCain’s monumental efforts—agreed to suspend their disbelief such that, once again, McCain might be allowed to succeed in spite of himself.
To hear McCain sell it, it goes something like this: he’s a 3rd generation maverick and serious military man; his rambunctious and unapologetic past behind him, he is now a devoted family man, one unwilling to bend to the pressures (& pleasures) of others; he is the prodigal son returned “with the scars to prove it”—that is prove his individual heroism, and love of God and country.
“My grandfather was a naval aviator, my father a submariner. They were my first heroes, and earning their respect has been the most lasting ambition of my life. They have been dead many years now, yet I still aspire to live my life according to the terms of their approval.”
–John McCain, Faith of my Fathers: A Family Memoir
“My father was an intelligent man, and quite well read as a boy. The low grades as a student cannot be accredited to poor intellect. Rather, I assume they were attributable to his poor discipline, a failing that was almost certainly a result of his immaturity and the insecurity he must have felt as an undersized youth in a rough-and-tumble world that had humbled many older, bigger men.”
–John McCain, Faith of my Fathers: A Family Memoir
As defined by his forefathers, John McCain is a study in contradictions—most specifically in his reportedly lifelong roles. In many ways he is a man just like his father and grandfather—only not, in neither their eyes nor his own, as great. In the aforementioned quotes we find John McCain talking about and admitting to things not of his forefathers’ lives but his own—accidental admissions, I’d say. These are the stories he uses to explain away both his and his forefathers’ imperfections. It is also how he positions himself among their ranks. Some of these things might be true, and I have no doubt that McCain believes most (if not all) of them are. But the fact that his story has been so retroactively constructed, that he is so utterly convinced by the story as to doggedly stick to it even as it, as a political tactic, fails him, suggests something a little more pathological at work. True or not true, McCain needs this story to be his story. And even if this is his story—it’s certainly not his whole story.
I have only the vaguest recollections of McCain's campaign in 2000: what I do remember is liking him; thinking he was a reasonable, & forthcoming potential candidate; thinking that he was far more experienced, & frankly, a vastly superior candidate—one much better suited to the nomination. I also remember watching the GOP brutally cannibalize one of it's own, one of its most loyal (if not a little naïve), in favor of George W. Bush and his disturbing, win-at-all-costs brand of politics. It was not only ugly but felt downright wrong. Crucify Clinton, Gore sure…but one of its own, and a war hero? It set a terrifying and unnatural precedent. In fact, Bush’s brand of politics highlighted exactly why McCain was—in my mind—the better of the two: McCain ran a pretty decent and honorable campaign.
Little did we know that 2000 would be an ugly glimpse into what would come to be known as “politics as usual” in the next 8 years—the eventual cost still too impossible to measure. As a result, America has been a nation divided: by Republican action; by Democratic inaction—a division deeper than we still yet know. To see, in 2008's campaign, such a vastly different man than the one I remember from 2000 has been more than a little alarming. And I cannot be the only one who feels that turning, in 2008, to the very people who so publicly destroyed him is more than a little unnerving. After all, we know it affected him. He strongly considered jumping ship and joining the Democratic party afterwards—something that could at least partially be attributed to that cannibalization he endured. So at what cost…at what cost goes loyalty? Yes, politics (& college football) makes for strange bedfellows—sure, sure. But to willingly ally himself with such political hypocrisy has all but proven that, despite all punditry to the contrary, he cares for only one thing: winning. Though McCain seems to tell himself a wholly different yarn.
2
-Robert Draper - ‘The Making (and Remaking) of McCain’
“The search for witches, Jews, un-Americans, homosexuals, immigrants, Catholics, heretics is, similarly, a pageant and not really a political quest at all. The prime movers elect themselves the protagonists, identify what is causing all that unfortunate uncertainty in the world, and swear to expunge it, if we will just vote for them.”
-David Mamet - from ‘Letters of Transit’,
3 Uses Of The Knife: On the Nature and Purpose of Drama
As defined by his adviser and ghost-autobiographer Mark Salter, and under the guidance of Rick Davis, and Steve Schmidt, McCain has—as we have witnessed—run a campaign based largely on fear. A campaign that is designed to whip up the most extreme factions of his base into a near-frenzy and destined to reach deep into voters’ most secret prejudices and needle them. To generalize, his base is affluent—which is to say those most susceptible to the tactic of fear: they are, simply, comfortable people with the most to lose. To generalize, his base is middle-class—which is to say proud and willing to sacrifice for some higher ideals, something familiar and historical, something beyond itself. And to generalize again, his base is poor—which is to say ignored and forgotten, and often most susceptible to each and every pillow-talk promise, most willing to vote not their present circumstances but their glorious (and highly unlikely) futures…vote for those brighter days ahead when their American Dream finally gets it’s lotto-ticket punched. McCain’s 2008 campaign has been based on reckless gambles, talking-point horses beaten beyond even recognition, illustrative set pieces, and performance opportunities—yarns packed to the gills with platitudes and world-weary tales of the hard-working everyman…as well as the standard witch hunts, un-Americans, and even heretics. It’s been a campaign aimed at anti-intellectualism, one that smirks at his opponent's eloquence…as if the substance of what was being said is of no consequence. And in that regard, it has been a successful campaign: it has found those it most sought and engaged them. Additionally it has also found those less-civic in their support, found those less concerned with America’s future as with America’s inglorious past…as sometimes embarrassingly and heartbreakingly evidenced by hand-scrawled signs reading "Mavrik," "Half-Breed Muslin" & "Socialiest" strewn across the distended underbelly of the American heartland.
It is called a tragic flaw because it is unavoidable, impending…because the flawed simply cannot help themselves. We've all watched as McCain simply could not help himself…even despite his valiant efforts. The schizophrenic mania manifest in clenched teeth, in physical ticks, in such restrained and barely-held-in-check tongue-jabs and emotions have pushed the man to his physical limit, if not into the white-hot glare of truth for all that it is hidden and that his body-language appears to betray. To hear the man say something like "My friends, I know we're all hurting," while not knowing how many houses he officially owns (much less unofficially) certainly doesn't ingratiate him to the less red of the blue collar set…those the Republican platform must, every election cycle, convince to vote against their own better futures and self-interests in support of the lavish, boundless lifestyle of the upper class. And it is in these so painfully obvious conflicts of interest that the campaign loses traction, where it becomes a comic sketch of itself…yet another annoyance in a campaign of annoyances, trivialities, dull and insipid little errands, chores—all these speeches and smart-ass debates—something simply to be gotten through between now and his magnificently imagined reign. Yes, those pesky, infuriatingly slow-churning wheels of democracy.
Absent from the hero’s journey—if we’re to believe that is what we are being sold—are the less glorious, more humanizing moments: owning mistakes; meaningful admonitions; confessing of one’s sins and transgressions by which the hero can learn to forgive himself…just as we, the audience, forgive him. Noticeably absent. Nearly non-existent. But from the ether-eye, from sources, from un-silent patriots come disturbing, un-heroic dispatches from the supposed front lines of McCain’s psyche…things that do not jive with the official narrative. Rage. Infidelity. Ruthless, quenchless ambition. A hard-charging drunkard with a thirst for dice. A brat insulted by his advantages, but not enough to refuse to abuse them. Misogyny. The word “cunt.” These are separate, unofficial narratives…witnessed reports, yet stories without redaction, stories the merits of which I am neither qualified nor inclined to debate. These are stories McCain apparently refuses to dignify with response (we’ll ignore the argument that perhaps, just perhaps, the electorate might be entitled to it). But that they are is what bears mentioning—leave the exposés to those better suited—what further clouds the tangled threads of his narrative. I have no doubt that politics is a rough business, that every misstep is mercilessly amplified in an election year and especially in this election year. I have no doubt that running for President of the United States is immeasurably difficult. But so is maintaining a crumbling façade.
3
-David Mamet - from ‘Letters of Transit’,
3 Uses Of The Knife: On the Nature and Purpose of Drama
Yes, but what is the story McCain prefers? It seems a failed hero’s tale wherein he, in 2008, has little choice. Ignore the base and he risks alienating the Christian right—and his campaign wouldn't have a leg to stand on. Or so he seems resigned to think. But, tactically, what of courting to this base? Is that even sane when facing an opponent decades your inferior in terms of experience, not to mention being the first-ever African American major party Presidential candidate? Wasn't simply being the Republican nominee probably going to, to put it simply, be enough? Did McCain honestly think that the Republican base would ever consider voting for what they would no doubt see as a weak, tax-and-spend, faggoty, tree-hugging, liberal terrorist—even if he wasn’t black? Or was it just desperately begging the lost affections of 2000, the unrealized ousting of Bush in 2004, instead of appealing to today’s much more broad and contemporary voting set?
In many ways I think McCain should have been himself, the McCain of 2000, instead of this straw man, dreamed up by the GOP machine. He has sacrificed his own heart for a shot at the White House, and has done so, I think, to great personal detriment. The disjointed tactics, the grumblings from his inconsistent, divided camp, seem largely those of a blood-thirsty mob being just barely (if not inadequately) restrained…not much of a legacy. Watching it unfold has suggested, to me, a kind of crisis of conscience for McCain. At least I want to believe it has. It also has suggested regret of his many errant decisions…including turning to the very gnashing teeth of a combine that devoured him 8 years ago. Yes, had McCain run simply as himself and were he to lose, at least it would rest solely on him, on his hero's shoulders…instead of easily justified or explained away by consequence and ill-fate. Yes, better the loss be attributed to his volatile and barely suppressed rage, to his failed policies, his poor decisions, his underestimation of voters, or his lack of vision and understanding. At least, then, his worth as a civil servant and a man would not be in question. That would, I think, be easier to take. After all, who is to blame when the very same meritocracy upon which all your deepest beliefs are centered somehow has you losing the big game?
But he has not been himself—which is to say the earlier versions of himself, the story of John McCain that I prefer to ascribe to, the one I choose and believe is more representative of the actual man. I watched at rallies, him standing idly by, while extreme supporters called for the literal head of his opponent. I fully expected him to do something about it, and believe the McCain of 2000 would have. But to see him this time—looking around, smiling uncomfortably, turning to an unseen someone looking for guidance, for help—made me wonder if he even had anything left, anything that could be saved. I see, in McCain, an angry, sad, and broken man. I also see a relieved man. To openly embrace the divisive and destructive tactics that the same GOP machine used to derail his more honorable and very legitimate near-Presidential campaign, the Straight Talk Express, …to see him devolve into someone else, one who would reverse himself so drastically on his pet projects, including immigration and the moral issue of torture (for which even the ugliest Rove-ean political opportunist would have still given him a pass) suggests a deep, pathological need to win. Beyond talk. Beyond promises. Beyond American futures. Beyond pledges and the slaughter of political mischaracterization visited on him by those he now begs to destroy his opponent. He seems cursed to view all his failures not in the eyes of himself (by which he could learn from them) but in those of his dead forefathers…haunted by men he (and others) have lionized into some kind of ideal, some cheapjack Greek gods, men McCain has always wanted to equal and—let's be honest—always wanted to finally best…at something…somehow. For my money, that is what has made him so desperate, so willing to be someone he was not. Perhaps the end, once again, justified the means…as it almost never has before. Or always has, depending on who you ask. And as his deep-seated need to win runs headlong into his impending failure, he is forgetting his own story and forgetting to beware the dramatic promises a narrative makes—as expectations are planned resentments.
I see in McCain the facts of himself, as his story has been retroactively constructed: the narrative yarn that is, to him, so utterly convincing as to doggedly adhere almost exclusively to it—even as it, as a political tactic, fails him. Yes, a man transformed by his life’s darkest hours from a reckless, impetuous youth to a measured man of God and country first. He has ignored the rest. Worse is that even in telling himself the story he needs most believe, telling himself the story of himself, he’s done so not with war stories as one might expect. And they are not tales where he's overcome some great challenge internal or obstacle external. Sadly, while those threads do occasionally work into the larger narrative, the stories McCain tells himself, the roles in which he prefers to cast himself, are the stories not of heroes but of martyrs: of those who—instead of doing something, anything—are simply people to which unfortunate and treacherous things like fate, time, and circumstance just seem to happen; stories not of a tortured yet still determined, murderous Hamlet but, instead, of a broken, bewildered old fool Lear; not so much the prodigal son returned 'with the scars to prove it' as that of a silver-spooned Jesus whose crucifixion wasn't even enough to finally win his dead grandfather's or father’s love.
And it must be asked: does the man even want to be President? Reaching now (and perhaps it’s psycho-babble), but what other choice does a man born to the purple, born to every advantage have—save self-sabotage and wanton tales of martyrdom—to explain away his failures? What else does a man born to every advantage have—save self-sabotage—by which he can finally reject his pathological and desperately failed attempts to measure up? McCain somehow needs to be both hero and victim, both winner and loser, both magnanimous martyr and stone-faced executioner. He needs an escape hatch, a hedged bet, some back-door-extraction from yet another of his life’s untenable psychological situations. He needs it to be okay to succeed, sure. But he needs it to be even more okay to fail. How else are we to explain away Sarah Palin—when the GOP is rife with far more loyal, knowledgeable, capable, & inspired choices? That even Lear needed his fool? Surely McCain cannot have such little regard for the intellect of the American electorate, can he? I see in him—as all great martyrs—a deep sadness, an unreachable place, one that joy cannot find. I think he knows it. And I think he knows that winning this election will not make it go away. And while I have no doubt the man is haunted by some pathological need to best his grandfather and his father in some way, to become something they were not such that the lifelong comparisons might finally cease, and the whispers of his own unhappy heart might be silenced—I think there is a large part of him that does not want to win, one that is content to appear as if he fought tooth and nail but was, ultimately, bested by a man better-suited, and more beloved of the people—or—one with more nefarious crooks and cronies in his corner, and it was, once again, his honor that defeated him. It is, after all, the role he’s most comfortable playing, the story he’s most accustomed to living. And the role he has, after 70+ years, maybe even made his peace with.
I am sorry for the man. Not enough to vote for him, of course…yet sorry all the same. Such tragedy, both personal and professional, has rarely (if ever) played out to the delight of so many worldwide—and never on such grand a national and international stage.
We've all unfortunately and unwittingly borne witness.
————————
Suggested Readings
-“Make-Believe Maverick” by Tim Dickinson, Rolling Stone Magazine
-“The Making (and Remaking) of McCain” by Robert Draper, GQ Magazine
-After Henry and The White Album (or, anything, really) by Joan Didion
-3 Uses of the Knife: On the Nature & Purpose of Drama by David Mamet
