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Convoluted answers to simple questions dull a hyped-up audience
BY ADAM REILLY
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TUESDAY, OCTOBER 21, 2003 -- During the run-up to John Kerry's "Hardball" appearance Monday night, it looked like the Massachusetts senator would benefit from an auspicious combination of circumstances. First of all, he was on his home turf. What's more, Dawn, the implausibly Nordic "Hardball" producer, had primed the Kennedy School of Government crowd by noting that a "special LA film crew" was filming material for a special "Hardball." (When the audience practiced applauding enthusiastically, Dawn liked what she heard: "It sound like you guys are gonna be an awesome crowd!" she said.) But the most promising moment for Kerry and his supporters came when Matthews botched the introduction. "My guest tonight, John Kennedy -- I'm sorry. John Kerry." Kerry entered to a lengthy standing ovation. But then he opened his mouth, and any serendipitous momentum disappeared. Instead of letting Matthews' gaffe seep, undisturbed, into the minds of the audience, Kerry quickly described a time when Ted Kennedy made the same mistake -- and just like that, the error was rendered mundane rather than magical. Next, Kerry singled out his daughter Vanessa, who was sitting close to the stage and looked visibly embarrassed when the cameras found her. And then, for 15 uncomfortable minutes, he tried to clarify his stand on the Iraq war. As anyone who's previously listened to Kerry discuss this issue knows, it's challenging -- to put it kindly -- to parse his thoughts on the issue. Last night, for example, Kerry argued that the Bush Administration should have worked with the UN to facilitate rigorous screening by weapons inspectors. Bush et al should also have built a stronger international coalition and reached the "last-resort point" before going to war, Kerry said. That's reasonably straightforward stuff, even if what the "last resort point" is -- in the case of Iraq or any other pending war -- is a bit unclear. But when Matthews asked Kerry to place himself in Bush's shoes and state whether he would have gone to war in two scenarios -- with UN approval and without it -- Kerry demurred, saying only that he "would have made a decision." Kerry compounded this vagueness by claiming that Iraq actually did represent a "legitimate threat." And he muddied the waters even further by arguing that while he stands by his vote authorizing use of force in Iraq, he didn't really want Bush to go to war at that point -- instead, he just wanted the president to have an extra negotiating tool. Of course, there's nothing wrong with Kerry (or any candidate) having a complex position that defies easy explanation. As Kerry mentioned repeatedly last night, he's a Vietnam vet; as such, he has good reason to be cautious and thoughtful on military matters. ("Moral clarity" comes much easier to chicken hawks like Bush.) But if Kerry wants people to bear with him as he talks foreign policy, he needs to be patient as we try to sort out what exactly he's saying. Best not to assert, as he somewhat snippily did last night, that "My position could not be more clear." Making voters think is okay; making them feel stupid isn't. By the show's halfway mark, 7:30 p.m., the energy that had accompanied Kerry's entrance had vanished, and Dawn was worried. "Okay, guys, I'm not losing my audience, right? Cause there wasn't a lot of enthusiasm on that last [round of applause.] You've still got enthusiasm, right?" The response was tepid. In the back of the crowd, two baby-faced male students seemed exasperated by Kerry's discussion of Iraq. "Can you summarize his position in two or three sentences?" "No, 'cause he's unwilling to." "And I think that hurts him." Nothing dramatic happened in the second half of Kerry's "Hardball" appearance. Even after the conversation moved away from Iraq, he continued to demonstrate his proclivity for lengthy, convoluted speech: more than once, students and faculty who'd stood to ask questions seemed like they were feigning interest, or stifling yawns, or battling painful leg cramps as Kerry meandered (sometimes successfully, sometimes not) toward an answer. The senator did manage some nifty swipes at former Vermont Governor Howard Dean, who's expected to be his main competition in the New Hampshire primary; for example, he compared Dean's lack of foreign policy experience to Bush's and quipped that this was a bad time for "on-the-job training." But when KSG faculty member and former White House advisor David Gergen asked him to "open the window on his soul," Kerry faltered, referencing his "Greatest Generation" parents and John F. Kennedy and his desire for an "elevated political conversation" but revealing precious little about himself. Like the evening as a whole, it was a missed opportunity. As one reporter noted near the end of the show, "It's one hour, but it feels like two."
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