As the Democratic primary campaign narrows to only two or three candidates, I find myself -- a northeastern progressive whose only objection to the term "liberal" is that it doesn't sound liberal enough -- more and more often defending my choice of John Edwards to my progressive friends, some of whom are a little aghast at my choice of a southern moderate, especially at this late date, when John Kerry looks to have things sewn up.
I mostly leave the subject of electability to others (palm readers, journalists, pollsters, drunks), as my choice has little to do with that, though I find that once I've gotten done explaining to myself why I like Edwards, he ends up seeming more electable to me than the other guy as well. My choice has to do with Edwards' brand of populism, which many party leaders have pronounced to be the equivalent of electoral death and which reminds some of William Jennings Bryan. But when Edwards speaks of "two Americas" -- the one for whom there are no economic problems and the other for whom there are almost nothing but -- and when he talks, as he has often lately, about the 35 million poor Americans who mostly don't vote and whom politicians are therefore free to forget, I don't hear the voice of Bryan so much as I hear the voice of Edwards' son Wade.
I've met Edwards a few times, initially in 1998 when he was running for the U.S. Senate and several times over the past year at campaign events, invited along by his brother-in-law, a New York filmmaker who's a friend of mine. My friend had talked a lot over the years about his talented brother-in-law the trial lawyer, and about his sister Elizabeth, married to John Edwards and a lawyer herself. He'd also spoken about his gifted nephew, the Edwards' eldest son Wade, who was killed in a freak auto accident in 1996.
Last summer, I pulled Wade's essay "Fancy Clothes and Overalls" from the Web site of the foundation John and Elizabeth Edwards started in honor of their son. It was Wade's entry in a national competition, and it was one of the finalists. It's less than a page long, and it's about a boy being taken by his father to vote. The theme of the essay is that the voting booth is the one place where everyone comes together, "people in fancy clothes, and others dressed in overalls. Each has exactly the same vote. Each has exactly the same say in the election. There is no place in America where equality means as much as in the voting booth." It's a lovely piece, completely without guile or irony, and a wonderful alternative to those for whom the main reason to vote in this next election can be summed up by the word "Florida."
I hear this voice every time I hear Edwards tell the now familiar story of his life, every time he speaks with such passion about the two Americas, every time he talks about the forgotten poor. And I heard it in a commencement speech he gave at the University of North Carolina at Pembroke last May. The speech was an exhortation to fight racial intolerance: "You -- and we -- have an obligation to make this community, our state, our great nation, and even this world more embracing. You -- and we -- have an obligation to stand against the forces of intolerance that deny opportunity to others. … Where there is hatred, there is your battleground. Where there is injustice, there is your battleground. Where there is misery, there is your battleground."
It's a good, strong commencement speech, which Edwards apparently didn't farm out to a speechwriter but wrote himself. But commencement speeches are supposed to be inspiring, calling the graduates to a higher purpose. And if I knew nothing else about the author of that speech, I might not have given it a second thought. However, having heard him in person several times, speaking about trying to make the two Americas one, and having read his book, Four Trials, where he details his own early struggle out of poverty and the battles he waged for his clients against rich and powerful lawyers, and then having read his son's essay, I think he probably means this stuff.
I think Edwards' passion for the subject of equality of opportunity is at the core of why he's running, and that makes him possibly the first candidate since George McGovern who's running for president out of a passionate dedication to core democratic values (at least the first electable one.) Bill Clinton said he'd be with us till the last dog dies, but that was a statement more of empathy than a commitment to a set of beliefs. And I still don't really know what deep philosophical or political passions drove him, at the nonnegotiable core of his being. I don't know what bedrock political beliefs drive John Kerry, either. But I think I know with Edwards.
Tort lawyers take a lot of abuse, and not only from Republicans. But the one thing you can say about the successful ones -- and Edwards was, by all accounts, the most successful in North Carolina -- is that they're fighters. They go up against armies of expensive, Ivy League-trained corporate lawyers with all the money and time in the world. Whatever you think of the profession -- and I think they're an aroused citizenry's last defense against corporate malefactors -- it isn't for the faint of heart, or for the easily defeated.
Given that the Republicans will probably continue to control the Senate and the House after next November, a Democrat who wins the presidency is going to have a rough four years in office. Every initiative will be a battle. There'll be no gimmes from the Republicans. I like the idea of someone leading us into those battles with 20 years of experience fighting superior forces -- and winning.
I also think it's time for the Democrats to start to get the South back. The Republicans' southern strategy has shifted from an anti-integration jihad, which they have happily mostly lost, to an anti-gay, anti-abortion, anti-pretty-much-everything-in-the-modern-world jihad. But it hasn't improved southern schools or created new jobs or given anybody decent health care. And there are signs that even those white southerners that Howard Dean, with his ham-handed appeal to guys with Confederate flags on their pickups, was trying to talk to realize this, and that some of them may be ready to give the Democrats another look. Edwards' arguments about the job losses under George W. Bush are likely to be as effective in Virginia, Mississippi -- and Ohio -- as in South Carolina, and suggest a possible way out of the four-decade, "red state" lockout.
So the most important questions I ask about the candidates are: Who really believes, down to his bones, in the stuff Democrats are supposed to believe in? And who will fight like a badger to advance these beliefs? The answer I keep coming up with is John Edwards.
When Edwards gives his ritual chant in the stump speech, "I beat 'em, and I beat 'em again, and I beat 'em again," he always gets a big cheer, including one from me. I want a president with that kind of fire -- and success rate. The next Democratic president is going to need it, or we're going to have four years of watching our man get beaten up by the armies of Bill Frist and Tom DeLay.
Kerry has his Vietnam experience, his years of Washington service, his "presidential" John-of-Gaunt appearance (thanks to George Packer for this descriptive nickname). On Edwards' side are passion, the biggest talent for public speaking since Clinton (at least), and a lifetime of successfully fighting long odds for what he believes in. Kerry would eat Bush's lunch in a debate, but Edwards would eat his breakfast, lunch, dinner, and midnight snack. It'd be fun to watch.
Mainly, though, I'm for Edwards because I think he is his son's father. I think his desire to make this a fairer nation is as deep a passion as I have seen in a public official since I can remember.
Alan Wade is a writer and filmmaker living in New York City.
