The Political Interest

By Michael Kramer

Ross Perot enjoys comparisons with Harry Truman and Franklin Roosevelt. He sees himself as a can-do guy in a can't-do era -- as a feisty straight-talker like Truman, as a bold experimenter like F.D.R., whose plan for rescuing capitalism ("Take a method and try it. If it fails, admit it and try another; but above all try something") is echoed in Perot's call for "action, action, action." Perot may never be ranked with Truman and Roosevelt -- and of course he would have to win first -- but he already personifies an enduring strain in American life, a pervasive antipathy for insiders. It is this ideological hostility that prompted the Populist and Progressive movements and the rise of George Wallace, Jimmy Carter and Ronald Reagan. But the sentiments that fuel the surge for Perot ("Take our country back") are perhaps best understood as a 20th century manifestation of Jacksonian Democracy, the anti-Establishment revolt that captured the country's imagination in the 1820s, the very first voter rejection of the Washington Beltway.

Andrew Jackson won the popular vote in 1824, but the election was decided in the House of Representatives, where the Founding Fathers' aristocratic clique cut a deal that denied him the White House. When he finally triumphed four years later, the Washington "dynasty" lost its power to direct the presidency to one of its own. John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, James Monroe and John Quincy Adams were the forerunners of today's professional politicians. They made their careers in national affairs and apprenticed for the top spot by serving in successive Cabinets. Even then, today's complaint was fashionable. The ruling elite saw office as an end in itself, wrote the educator Horace Mann. For those men, he said, the question was "Where can I be -- not what can I be." Jackson shared the public's disdain for this complacency and championed the frontiersman's ideal, the equicompetence of most men to most tasks. Like Perot, Jackson had wide support in all sections of the country (which sets both men apart from most third- party candidates, who have essentially represented various extremes).

As Americans have always admired whatever is new, the single constant in politics has been the desire for change. Today that yearning is heightened. Never before have so many believed the country is on the wrong track (more than 80% in recent polls); never before have so many felt so estranged from their leaders. As recently as 1964, only 29% said the government was run for the benefit of a few big interests. Today that figure is 80%. For these reasons, and because so many view George Bush and Bill Clinton as "just" politicians, Perot could actually win in November. The anecdotal evidence supports the surveys. People see Perot as a personification of the American Dream (from newsboy to billionaire) and want to believe in him as a political savior. They are eager to perceive him as having the character and temperament to be President. So far, he has performed like the supersalesman he is. The grass-roots, empowering feel of his effort ("If you sign it, he will run") survives his having hired some political pros; few believe Perot can be controlled by anyone.

Still, any number of obstacles could cause Perot to fade like a cheap suit. Right now he is seen as sincere (which calls to mind George Burns' famous crack, "Sincerity is everything: if you can fake that, you've got it made"). But Perot's feistiness could come to be seen as meanness, his buccaneerism as recklessness. Already some of his (few) articulated positions have been exposed as two-faced; on taxes, for example, he has alternately said over the years that he favors raising them and that he never would. He has played the system to great advantage, and his coziness with insiders could tarnish his outsider appeal. He has promised specific solutions, but he clearly believes they are unnecessary -- because prescription implies promise, and "everyone knows" that political promises are hollow. In this anti-intellectual stance the Jacksonian Democrat whom Perot resembles is Davy Crockett. Almost everything about Crockett is myth. (Is it uninteresting that Perot once said, "I'm not a living legend. I'm just a myth"?) Like Perot, Crockett regularly exalted common sense above what he called "law learning." He also accepted demagoguery and deception as required for political success, and he served several terms in Congress during the Jackson Administration. "I was cunning as a little red fox," Crockett wrote in his autobiography, "and wouldn't risk my tail in a 'committal trap.' " Too much noncommitment from Perot, though, could render him implausible as a President.

Were that the ultimate judgment, voters would probably turn first to Clinton. Of the rationales Bush has offered for his re-election, his claim to be a change agent is laughable. But Clinton won't get his sought-after second look if Perot's savvy continues, and perhaps not even if Perot falters. The historians' favorite metaphor for Jacksonianism is the signs one still sees in the center of small towns. The arrows point to many different destinations and have but one thing in common: they all point to somewhere else. Which is what Perot represents. Since he is the "none of the above" candidate so many seek, wherever Perot intends to go, his starry-eyed supporters are convinced it will be away from the status quo. In the end, that may be enough.