On Thursday, February 8, Bill Richardson delivered a speech at the Center for Strategic and International Studies on "The New Realism and the Rebirth of American Leadership," laying out the foreign policy vision that lies at the core of his presidential campaign. Since I wanted to write a column on Richardson, I thought I'd look up the speech. So I popped his name into Google looking for his campaign website only to discover that it ranks below both his official site as Governor of New Mexico and his Wikipedia page. This is the sign of a presidential campaign that's not getting much attention. And that, in turn, is a sign of exactly how weird our presidential nominating process has become.
We'll leave aside, momentarily, the fact that Richardson is clearly more qualified for the White House than anyone else in the race, since everyone knows that doesn't matter. Just consider the bare fact that he's the popular, second-term governor of a swing state -- you know, the sort of person who back in the day used to win presidential elections. And it's not as if Richardson isn't getting attention because the field is crowded with popular second-term governors of swing states. No. We're too excited about the first-term senator from Illinois whose only competitive election in the past was against Bobby Rush -- and who lost. Or that vice presidential nominee from a losing ticket.
The aforementioned Wikipedia article also notes that, as governor, Richardson "has been lauded by traditionally right-leaning publications and organizations such as Forbes Magazine and the Cato Institute for reforming New Mexico's economy," traditionally the sort of thing that would create some buzz given that we are, after all, talking about a fairly progressive Democrat.
Here's something else you might expect to garner some buzz: If that same Democrat also found some spare time in January to broker a cease-fire between the government of Sudan and some major rebel factions in Darfur. That kind of person might be someone who understands that these sort of humanitarian tragedies can't just be ended purely through righteous indignation.
But now we're getting back to the small matter of qualifications. Traditionally, Americans have turned to governors to serve as president, thinking that experience in executive office and with complicated managerial tasks outweighs the experience with federal policy issues that members of Congress can count in their favor. Happily, Richardson spent over a decade in the House of Representatives before becoming governor. In between, he was America's ambassador the United Nations, wracking up a level of national security experience that none of the other contenders can match. And did I mention he was also Secretary of Energy? Too bad nobody thinks energy independence and global climate change are important policy areas in which it would be good for the chief executive to have some knowledge. Oh, well.
Eventually, I found Richardson's speech. I didn't agree with all of it -- in particular the parts about Russia and intellectual property. But in a world where an arrogant gasbag like Joe Biden gets a reputation as knowledgeable about foreign policy, Richardson looks like George Kennan.
Of course Biden isn't even a "viable," "major" presidential candidate, either, so it's hardly worth complaining about him. Nor am I trying to present Richardson as merely the forlorn candidate of the wonk set and of those too fastidious to understand the blunt political realities. The point about Richardson is that in many respects he's exactly the sort of person -- a popular governor -- who was taken seriously as a presidential contender in the very recent past. The list is long and familiar -- Jimmy Carter, Ronald Reagan, Bill Clinton, George W. Bush. The difference is that Richardson is also super-experienced.
In retrospect, however, Bush was less the last of the governor presidents than a transition to the new era in which, to be president, you need to be a famous celebrity. Mayors of New York City are always famous, because the people who run the media live in New York. Hence, Rudy Giuliani is a serious candidate (and even Michael Bloomberg is considered a more serious possibility than he should be). John McCain spent all of 1999, 2000, and 2001 chasing positive press and became famous in the process -- so he's a serious candidate. Barack Obama has an extremely interesting personal story and was one of the only Democratic successes in 2004, so he became famous and now he's a serious candidate. John Edwards got famous running on a national ticket, so he's a serious candidate. Hillary Clinton's husband used to be president (you may have heard), so she's famous and she's a serious candidate. Most absurdly, Mitt Romney happened to preside over the Massachusetts gay marriage controversy, thus becoming famous and, therefore, a serious candidate.
The only alternative path to achieving "seriousness" as a contender, it seems, is the one that Mark Warner followed -- being governor of Virginia, where a healthy proportion of the country's political class lives. Maybe someday Martin O'Malley will prove it works for Maryland as well.
Basically, though, you need to be famous. Democrats won a whole bunch of state houses in 2002, which made many think the party would have a bumper crop of presidential contenders in 2008. Richardson, Katherine Sebelius, Rod Blagojevich, Ed Rendell, Janet Napolitano, etc. Instead, none of them are running except Richardson, and his campaign is a joke. If you look at any one of these people, perfectly plausible explanations for their lack of viability can be constructed. The overall pattern, however, is a striking change from the past. What's more, the change seems driven almost entirely by the national media, which simply decided unilaterally some years ago to only cover people who were already famous.
This isn't something we should take lying down. I'm not going to tell you to vote for Bill Richardson, or even that I'm going to vote for Bill Richardson. But, at a minimum, I'd like to learn more, and you should, too.
