Watching Washington

Obama's Speech Navigates Conflicting Demands

DENVER — One of the trickiest aspects of an acceptance speech at the end of a national convention is the choice the presidential nominee must make between the audience in the hall and the vastly larger one beyond.

More than a few presidential nominees have been caught up in the hall dynamic to the detriment of the broadcast connection. Others have too obviously talked over the heads of delegates to the TV cameras, getting out of sync with the eager support group all around them and eventually losing their momentum.

Sen. Barack Obama spoke to both audiences and made it look easy. A massive crowd of more than 80,000 came to hear him in a midsized city on a midweek evening, and they were rewarded with a speech that seemed directed to them. Yet while Obama was talking to delegates in Denver, he also seemed to be speaking to the country as a whole, and even to far-flung but interested parts of the world.

That masterful balancing was one reason the speech seemed to succeed despite expectations far too high to be tamped down. More on this in a moment, but first, let's consider some of the other potential contradictions in the balance as he made his remarks.

"Get tough" versus "new politics." Obama first rose through the ranks of presidential contestants last fall and winter by accentuating the positive and making rare use of attack lines. More recently he has been hitting back at ads designed by his opponents to belittle or besmirch him.

In his acceptance speech, Obama had clearly decided to engage Sen. John McCain more directly than ever before. He even adopted a more truculent tone: "I've got news for you, John McCain, we all put our country first." But he leavened this with a pledge to campaign on issues and not character attacks: "But what I will not do is suggest that the senator takes his positions for political purposes. ..."

"Make it soar" versus "fill in more of the policy detail." Obama has been criticized for buying popularity with a series of gauzy but fine-sounding speeches that offer little substance. His campaign has always disputed this and pointed to Web sites full of gritty and even numbing detail. Still, the national political audience knows Obama more as a motivational speaker who can draw a crowd than as an idea man or effective legislator.

So Obama laid out the beginning of policy prescriptions on capital gains and other taxes (promising to soak only the wealthiest 5 percent and give everyone else a tax cut), health care access and cost, time off for people caring for new children or sick family members. But he did not dwell too long on any one topic — including Iraq — before moving on to the next.

In the final minutes, Obama turned back to the biblical admonitions and poetics that have been a popular trademark of his best speeches: "...and in the words of Scripture hold firmly, without wavering, to the hope that we confess."

"Keep the faith with African-Americans" versus "establish a comfort level with Anglo whites." There's no question this dilemma has been with Obama since he first ran statewide in Illinois, or perhaps from his earliest years in a multiracial family. Obama began his presidential chase de-emphasizing his race, then found states where having race at the center of his campaign was useful. More recently, he has been downplaying it again.

In this speech, Obama saved the outreach to blacks until the end, when he acknowledged the day as the 45th anniversary of the March on Washington for civil rights, the occasion for Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have a Dream" speech. It brought the night to its final emotional climax, and brought tears to many of the delegates and others in the stadium.

"Own the space" versus "connect with the TV audience." This particular conundrum, mentioned above, pits the folks in the hall against everyone else who might be interested. The former are a kind of captive audience — it's too crowded to move — and they are presumably at least partly pre-sold or they wouldn't be there. They are also highly visible and audible, and their reaction becomes part of the speech's overall impression.

The larger audience is invisible, amorphous and highly diverse in its politics and interest level. Its members may know what capital-gains taxes are, or have an opinion on nuclear power, or they may not. But one thing is clear: They have a remote control and they know how to use it. Lose them for more than a matter of seconds and they are gone.

This targeting challenge was especially acute for Obama after he and his retainers decided to move the speech out of the Pepsi Center, site of the first three nights of the Democratic National Convention, to Invesco Field at Mile High, the home of the Denver Broncos.

Here, beneath the canopy of a warm and breezy Colorado night, more than 80,000 people were on hand to hear the speech. It was not just an audience capable of absorbing all of a speaker's attention; it was a throng that seemed to demand it. Through a long day of gathering, the crowd remained focused on the magnet that had drawn them there, and by show time the atmosphere of expectation was intense.

The light-and-music show never approached the heights of pageantry seen in — oh, let's say the opening and closing ceremonies of the Olympics in Beijing. Nor did it involve ritual sacrifice or an appearance by Bruce Springsteen. But it was an impressive show by the standards of national political conventions, which should probably also have fireworks (as this event did).

They applauded and cheered at Obama's appearance and at every applause line. They stayed after the speech to sing and dance, despite the sense of loss at the missing balloon drop. The overarching metaphor was of an open party, welcoming not just delegates and political pros (and media) but also vast numbers of ordinary citizens who arrived and attended for nothing.

Even the lights, swinging in wide and interchanging arcs across the dark mass of the crowd, implied an enfolding motion and energy. The brilliant splashes of light kept roving and raking the faces, pulling their attention down to the concentric circles of steps that would retract and leave the new Man of Chicago standing alone. Alone, in the midst of 80,000. A speaker subsuming contradictions and cross-pressures in a single vision, in a single speech.

Whether you buy the vision or trust the speaker, the political artfulness and effectiveness of the speech and the entire event have had few equals in recent American history. If the night fulfills its promise in November, it will be more historic still.

10:11 AM ET | 08-29-2008 | permalink

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Animosity Fades With Obama's Nomination

DENVER -- On the third night of the Democratic National Convention, the Clinton-Obama psychodrama finally seemed complete.

Both Clintons had given ringing endorsements of the presidential ticket. Hillary Clinton had told her delegates she was voting for Barack Obama, the man she had tried so hard and long to defeat. And she had done still more.

When the official roll call reached the state of New York with Obama leading in the tally by 4-1, Sen. Clinton did what other runners-up have done in the past. She moved to make Obama the nominee by acclamation.

That triggered a roar unlike any the Pepsi Center had heard all week, and it left just one more hurdle to be cleared in this long-running steeplechase. That hurdle was former President Bill Clinton, who had seemed to be sulking in his tent like Achilles since Obama wrapped up the nomination on June 3.

No one seemed certain about what the former president might say, and that seemed to explain why he was not speaking in the ultraprime network hour of 10 p.m. ET. But in the end, despite all doubts, he emerged on stage and delivered a stirring argument for the election of Obama, the man he had shown so little patience for earlier in the year.

To be sure, somewhere in the shadows of the Pepsi Center there were still Clinton delegates holding out or holding their noses. But they had been reduced to a remnant, too small to have much effect on the mood of the convention or the outcome in November.

In the VIP lounges of the Ritz Carlton hotel and the Denver airport, there were major Clinton fundraising figures all fleeing the convention city early. Their hopes were dashed and their egos bruised. Feeling they had been insufficiently stroked, they were leaving in protest.

There are real issues separating the funders in both camps. Clinton supporters have sent $14 million to Obama since the end of the primaries. Obama supporters have ponied up less than $500,000 to ease the debts of the Clinton campaign. That may be because the Clinton debt is owed largely to the candidate and her husband and their controversial strategist, Mark Penn. But whatever the reason, the lack of a quid pro quo has cooled the ardor of Clinton funders who feel they are not being met halfway.

These givers and bundlers may not be back this fall, and that could blow a major hole in the Obama campaign's fundraising and spending plans. But at the same time, their departure is not the sort of thing that genuinely ruins a convention. It was noted here and there, but it detracted not at all from the enthusiasm of the delegates or those watching at home on TV, and it attracted relatively little media notice.

The smoothness with which the anger and animosity of the spring have been subsumed here deserves mention.

It helped that the Clintons had no apparent objection to the selection of Sen. Joe Biden as the running mate. They clearly would have preferred to have this honor offered to Hillary Clinton. But lacking that breakthrough to the executive branch, they seemed resigned to making the most of a seat in the Senate. For the moment.

The rest of the midweek session was largely a matter of big screen stamp collecting. Sen. John Kerry gave a self-mocking speech about his failed effort to dislodge President George W. Bush four years earlier. A procession of Democratic candidates for the Senate plowed familiar ground. Several candidates who had been on Obama's running-mate short list demonstrated both the reasons for their listing and, to some degree, the reasons they lost out to Biden.

The new No. 2 himself gave the longest speech of the evening, hitting most of the notes one would have expected. Biden talked of his humble roots in Scranton, Pa., and of the loss of his wife and daughter when he was barely 30. One of his sons, Beau Biden, talked warmly of their family life, making scant mention of his own political career or his deployment to Iraq with the Delaware National Guard this fall. It's safe to say his presence there will be noted again before November.

In a few days, the deluge of Democrats will have subsided, and the rush of Republicans will have begun.

10:43 AM ET | 08-28-2008 | permalink

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For Hillary Clinton, It's No Contest

DENVER -- Hillary Clinton did not delay in breaking the tension. As she took the stage on the second night of the Democratic convention, the former presidential candidate went right to the question that has dominated Democratic politics for nearly three months.

"I am honored to be here tonight," she said as her thunderous reception began to diminish. "A proud mother. A proud Democrat. A proud American. And a proud supporter of Barack Obama."

Within the first seconds of her address, Clinton had broken the tension that had dominated this gathering and dominated this party. In the remainder of her remarks, she restated and reinforced her embrace of the candidate whose campaign eclipsed her own.

It was the second night in a row the convention headliner had been a woman, and the second night in a row that a woman had delivered just about everything anyone could have asked.

On the first night it was Michelle Obama, the prospective first lady, who did all she could to make Americans comfortable with the notion of the Obamas in the White House. She left the impression that she had been addressing arenas filled with thousands of strangers all her life.

But Clinton's feat was on another plane. She was being asked to endorse enthusiastically a man she has resented mightily for his refusal to wait his turn. Animosity remains between the two campaigns over numerous issues, including money. The Clinton folks feel they've done far more to raise money for Obama's fall campaign than Obama donors have done to retire Hillary's debts from the spring.

And Hillary Clinton & Co. have every reason to feel they have lost something here that was rightfully theirs. Hillary Clinton came to Denver having won more votes, more states and more delegates than anyone else in convention history who did not get the nomination. Clinton could fairly claim she had the momentum in the latter months of the primaries, and it was evident she commanded intense loyalty among her supporters.

No wonder some expected this convention to feature a real contest, with Clinton making one last effort to persuade superdelegates to abandon their stated preference for Barack Obama. Others suggested she could pry open the vice presidential nomination, petitioning to have that choice thrown open to the full convention.

Clinton showed no interest in either of those scenarios, but she did not rebuke those who did. She refused to waive her right to have her name placed in nomination or her right to a roll call vote. She said she wanted to show respect for the delegates who worked for her, voted for her and believed deeply in her candidacy.

Fair enough. But Tuesday night was the night for the No. 2 finisher to give her speech and declare her intentions. Was she going to fight on? Would she withhold her endorsement of his fall campaign?

Her speech was an emphatic answer to these and other questions. Within the first minute of her address, she called herself "a proud supporter of Barack Obama," and she added: "Whether you voted for me or voted for Barack, the time is now to unite as a single party with a single purpose."

Unlike the concession speech she gave in Washington, D.C., on June 7, this presentation went right at the question of what Clinton devotees should do now that she's been eliminated. "I want you to ask yourselves: Were you in this campaign just for me?" Clinton told the delegates who were still calling her name and imploring her to continue her campaign that the reasons she ran for president were now the reasons she supported her rival.

She indulged in a recollection of the 1990s that highlighted the achievements of her husband Bill's two terms in the White House (without, of course, any mention of impeachment or other travails). Then she pivoted quickly to saying: "President Obama and the Democrats will do it again."

You could find moments to quibble about, such as the mantra she built around the Harriett Tubman admonition: "Keep going." No matter how pursued or beleaguered you are, she said, keep going. It was hard not to imagine at least one ardent supporter shouting out: "Then keep running!"

But in the end, Clinton was indeed sending a new message about a changed mission. She wanted her people to transfer their passion to the new goal. As she wound up her remarks, party operatives crept down the aisles of the Pepsi Center handing out new signs. They said UNITY on one side, and either HILLARY or OBAMA on the other side.

On cue, the new signs popped up everywhere at once.

10:58 AM ET | 08-27-2008 | permalink

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Michelle Obama Makes Her Case

DENVER -- There were many ways to react to Michelle Obama's speech, which capped the first night of the Democratic convention here, including the impulse to send a text message to the Obama campaign saying: "OK, we got it."

The aim and purpose of the address had been telegraphed for days. It was the first foray in what might be called the week's ABO mission: Americanizing Barack Obama. And if the first night was any sign, we are in for a real hammering on this theme.

An early warning of the deluge came in the video tribute to the candidate's wife that preceded her address. In it, we learn that as a young swain, Barack pursued his future wife with repeated requests for a date and an eventual offer of ice cream. (One could almost see Emily waiting at the drugstore fountain in Our Town.)

From Craig Robinson, her brother, we learned that Michelle woke him up too early on Christmas morning. We would hear that she memorized whole episodes of The Brady Bunch as a child, that her parents were blue-collar people whose lives revolved around work, family, church and a belief in education. While neither of her parents went to college, they saw to it their children did.

Michelle Obama described her parents' credo in phrases we know well. She spoke of the enduring American dream, of how her parents "scrimped and saved," of a world where "your word is your bond" and "you can make it if you try." She spoke from the beginning of "every grace-filled moment in my life," and she did not fail to mention "the military families who say grace each night with an empty seat at the table."

And, at the moment the speech reached its emotional turning point, Michelle Obama intoned: "That is why I love this country."

It was a direct response to the characterization that has grown up around Michelle Obama's oft-quoted statement that her husband's political success this year was the first time she had been "really proud" of her country.

But beyond that one lingering wound, Michelle Obama's challenge on this night was to reposition her husband and his views. With each image, detail and phrase, Michelle Obama the attorney was building a case for her husband, not as an exceptional orator or brilliant decision maker, but as a deeply rooted American, a responsible father and, just as important, a quintessential guy.

In-depth polling and focus groups have found lingering doubts among many Americans that someone named Barack Hussein Obama can truly be one of them. And there are always plenty of people to foster and fuel the fears that go with a lack of information.

That's why we heard a litany of Americanisms, the catalog of Kodak moments and Norman Rockwell memories from Michelle Obama. Not that there's anything wrong with that — it's been a staple of our politics from the beginning. But there was so much of it, woven into practically every sentence she spoke, that one senses a return to similar themes in subsequent nights.

The performance was stunning inside the hall. The tall and striking woman made everyone forget she is not a professional speechmaker herself (although she is a Harvard-trained lawyer). She was direct, she was emotional and she was thoroughly in command. You had to wonder what kind of orators these two parents might be raising.

Some who watched on TV received a different impression. For them, the intense facial concentration, distressed expressions and body language conveyed something unsettling — or at least less reassuring than the impression left inside the Pepsi Center.

But then it's not necessary for Michelle Obama to make the world fall in love with her. It's only necessary that she reclaim her dignity and risk the categorizing we in the media do for our own efficiency.

10:18 AM ET | 08-26-2008 | permalink

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With Biden, Will Rewards Outweigh Risks?

DENVER -- Barack Obama's presidential campaign turned a corner on this pre-convention weekend, and it may never be the same.

Until now, Obama's outfit has been a close-knit and disciplined crew, capable of keeping a schedule and a secret. Part crusade and part cult, it has combined the ardor of its many disciples with the professionalism of its inner core. That mix reflects the essential contradiction of the candidate's own style: his cool demeanor generates passion — at least among his devotees.

Now, the Obamans have welcomed a very different personality into their midst. They have embraced the flamboyant Sen. Joe Biden of Delaware, whose loquaciousness is nothing short of legendary.

The process by which Biden entered the Obama tent was itself a triumph of tight-lipped control. The campaign vetted vice presidential prospects and picked Biden without the world finding out — at least until the final hours.

The ultimate idea was to reveal the choice only via text message to Obama supporters, and that did not quite work. The also-rans on the short list leaked when told they were out, while the gathering of the clan at Joe Biden's home in Delaware made it clear he was in. So the electronic media got to spill the beans several hours before the text message was transmitted.

Even with that glitch, the Obama gang could take pride in rewriting the rule book on a running mate rollout (not to mention adding untold thousands of new cell phone numbers to its database). They should savor the moment, because with Biden on board, that kind of restraint will be far harder to enforce.

It's not that Biden can't be a team player. He has been a senator for three-and-a-half decades, after all, so he knows how to be a prima donna within a larger opera. When it's important to hang together to be effective, Biden can do it.

But he is not the sort to stick to a script. From time to time, his lively spirit and fits of temper have led him astray, especially in moments of stress. Even more common are the occasions when his sheer verbal dexterity takes over and he simply talks himself out of an audience — or into trouble.

Of course, this is only one of the ways in which Biden stands in strong contrast to Obama. He also counters Obama's evocation of youth and a fresh future. The running mate got started in politics in the 1960s and made it to the Senate before Obama was out of grade school. While Obama is about a decade younger than the typical new president, Biden is a dozen years past the average age of new vice presidents at inauguration (53).

Biden also has exactly those career strengths that Obama lacks: longevity, legislative leadership and foreign policy experience. He can go toe to toe with presumptive Republican nominee John McCain in depth of knowledge about the Russian-Georgian conflict, just to cite one example.

Biden also appeals to a different and complementary part of the voter spectrum. Born and raised Catholic in Scranton, Pa., Biden sounded not the least bit ironic shouting "God protect our troops!" at the Springfield rally over the weekend. Biden stands a better chance of connecting with those working class white voters in Ohio and Pennsylvania (and elsewhere) who preferred Hillary Clinton in the primaries. And this is the demographic Obama must win over if he is to carry these critical states.

So Obama and his high command, in their careful calculus, measured the potential benefits of Biden against the firebrand's risks. The question now is whether, with Biden on board, they will ever feel themselves as completely in charge of their own destiny again.

10:52 PM ET | 08-23-2008 | permalink

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Why The Roll Must Be Called In Denver

There's been a lot of excitement lately about the announcement that Hillary Clinton would have her name placed in nomination at the Democratic convention next week in Denver, along with that of presumed nominee Barack Obama. A roll call vote will then be taken to determine the delegates' preference.

That such traditional arrangements should generate so much news is perhaps a demonstration of how short our memories are.

Not so long ago, Democrats routinely entered the names of runner-up candidates in nomination if there had been any significant contest in the primaries. Even Jerry Brown, a distant finisher behind Bill Clinton in 1992, organized a "Let Jerry Speak" campaign and got a roll call vote (as did an even more distant finisher, Paul Tsongas).

Jesse Jackson had his name placed in nomination in 1988 -- and had an entire evening built around his major address to the convention, even though the nomination of Michael Dukakis was not in doubt and had not been for several months.

Four years before that, silver medalist Gary Hart also got a big splashy moment (introduced by Aaron Copland's majestic "Fanfare for the Common Man") and a roll call -- even though he came to that convention with no chance of catching former Vice President Walter Mondale.

Hart had been in the hunt all the way and might even have given that convention some suspense had he not been thumped in New Jersey on the final primary day (even as he won California).

Going back one more cycle, to 1980, Ted Kennedy flailed against his fate all the way through the convention, resisting the renomination of Jimmy Carter with a blistering oration still remembered as a signal moment in convention history.

Of course, thinking back on 1980 reminds us why the star treatment for the runner-up has been discomfiting for nominees (and the party) in the past. Carter was thoroughly upstaged by his defeated rival, and the party did not soon recover -- not that November (Ronald Reagan won big) and not for years afterward. Even now, the Carter-Kennedy divide lives in the hearts and minds of all party activists of a certain age.

To a lesser degree, the party splits of 1984 and 1988 also weakened Mondale and Dukakis, and helped the Republicans carry a combined 89 of the possible 100 states in those two elections. No wonder many Democrats hoped that whoever lost the long duel between Clinton and Obama this year would forgo a featured role in Denver.

But there was not much they could do but hope. Giving up the chance to share the limelight in Denver would have been a gesture of extraordinary generosity from either Clinton or Obama, but it was never likely to happen. After all, Clinton won more votes, more events and more delegates than anyone ever has without winning the nomination. And the same would have been true of Obama, had Clinton managed to overtake him at the finish.

Moreover, this year's runner-up has to know the nominee might fall short in November. And in that event, the contest for the 2012 nomination will begin immediately. Why would Hillary Clinton sacrifice her chance to put her marker down? If the delegate count were going the other way, Obama would feel the same.

The expectation of a convention with no clash has been created by three straight cycles in which neither party had a primary process that lasted long enough to produce a bona fide high-profile runner-up.

Bill Clinton was renominated without opposition in 1996; Al Gore vanquished Bill Bradley in the opening round in 2000; and John Kerry, in 2004, obviated any special gesture to John Edwards by putting him on the ticket.

On the GOP side, the streak of quick picks has lasted into this cycle. Bob Dole had it wrapped up in early March in 1996; George W. Bush, by about the same time in 2000. Bush ran unopposed for renomination in 2004, and this year it was all over but the shouting after Super Tuesday (Feb. 5).

So, once again, the Republicans have no frustrated alternative champion who must be placated this year. But the Democrats do, and the Obama forces wisely recognized they had to do all they could to soothe both the Clintons' feelings and those of their supporters.

Falling back on the time-tested formula of a runner-up night was the obvious call. And breaking up the all-Clinton-all-the-time format on the second night with keynoter Mark Warner (former governor of Virginia, probable senator from Virginia and likely future presidential candidate in his own right) might be just the right counterpoint -- and punctuation point, too.

6:46 PM ET | 08-18-2008 | permalink

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At Long Last, Twin Breakthroughs On Energy

Two big facts emerged recently in the national debate over energy, one pleasing to the Increase Supply people and the other equally satisfying to the Decrease Demand folks.

The two facts are these: Americans favor drilling for more domestic oil supply, and lowering demand really does bring prices down notably and quickly.

These two realities, taken together, could move the debate forward. And none too soon.

The first fact emerged as a clear political metric. Nearly 70 percent in one CNN poll favored increased drilling for oil, including offshore. Even when environmental concerns are factored into the question, a majority of Americans believe new rigs should rise so that oil and gas prices can fall — and so we can all be less dependent on the oil-rich Middle East.

For nearly 40 years, the American public has been averse to new offshore drilling because accidents have led to appalling degradation of beaches and habitat. The unsightly nature of drilling and pumping rigs has been offensive. But these notions are comparatively romantic in the glare of prices that reached $145 a barrel for oil and more than $4 a gallon for gasoline.

Americans have absorbed a gradual increase in the price of these commodities for years. But the spike of 2008 has been too much, too fast, and it has literally changed the national mind. Watch the people at a John McCain rally rising from their seats as he shouts "Drill, drill, drill!!" It's become his best audience reaction line of the season and helped him to a virtual tie in the presidential race.

Democrats were slow to see the power of this issue. Leaders such as House Speaker Nancy Pelosi have grown up in coastal politics, where the phrase "offshore drilling" is as toxic as "terrorist coddling." Pelosi began her chamber's August recess early rather than give Republicans a vote on offshore drilling. The same issue has jeopardized the fall session in the Senate, too.

Barack Obama, steeped in months of Democratic primary politics, was slow to capture the broader public mood on this emergent issue. He criticized President Bush for lifting the (largely symbolic) executive order banning offshore drilling and for pressuring Congress to lift the legislative ban.

But Obama soon heard the alarm bells and reversed himself. Citing the necessity of compromise, Obama backed the proposal of a bipartisan group of 10 senators who saw fresh drilling as an acceptable trade-off for other, more farsighted energy-saving measures.

While environmental groups held the line and argued that offshore drilling was fool's gold that would take a decade to pay off, the more practical pols saw an opportunity. Why not allow some new drilling in exchange for a commitment to electric autos and research into renewable fuels? A few years of drilling, far offshore, would be a bearable cost if it helped the country kick its addiction to foreign oil.

By this week, even Pelosi was seeing the advantage in compromise. If the Republicans wanted drilling badly enough to make other concessions, then a deal might be done. And how could the House GOP object to that, after two dozen or more of their number stayed in town into the August recess, holding forth on the subject in a dimly lit House chamber with no C-SPAN?

The second transformative fact coming to light was from the world of market economics. Despite disruptions to the supply chain in the Caucasus, the global price of oil continued falling. The barrel that sold for $147 at the midsummer peak dropped by nearly one-fourth in a matter of days. The dollar also strengthened and made speculation in oil less attractive.

What brought the price down? Was it that plucky protest on the House floor (as at least one member was hubristic enough to suggest), or was it something else?

On Tuesday, the Energy Information Administration, a Bush administration agency, announced what the oil market already knew: Demand for oil in the U.S. had dropped by 800,000 barrels a day this year — the steepest decline in demand since 1982. Weekly gasoline demand was down this summer by nearly 4 percent compared with last summer, and the Chinese, notorious for their energy appetite, had seen demand slacken by 7 percent.

Do we really wonder why? We (and the Chinese) are using less because it costs so much more. Gasoline for around $4 a gallon means virtually everyone finds ways to use less gas. Many of us have no choice but to drive to or for our jobs. But all of us have options in choosing a vehicle, a route, a driving style. And for the first time since the oil shocks of a generation ago, Americans are taking those options seriously.

The next trend in oil prices is uncertain. Some analysts see oil back down below $100 a barrel in short order. Others see the price rebounding in the fall and winter and perhaps hitting new heights.

But one thing is clear. The price of oil still responds to signals from consumers, just as consumers still respond to spikes in price. The current fashion of glorifying new supply over all other solutions is great for flag-waving at campaign rallies. It's also an unbeatable fundraising device, as candidates in both parties know. But by itself, it only prolongs the agony. Ultimately, no addiction gets cured by providing more of the addictive substance.

The most potent weapon we have, as a country and as a species, is our ability to redefine our needs relative to our resources. Showing that we can use less oil is the quickest, surest way to recover control of our destiny.

Taken together, the desire for more supply and the ability to slacken demand can please the electorate in the near term and address the problem in the long.

3:24 PM ET | 08-13-2008 | permalink

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New China, New World, New Day

When questions arose about American participation in the Beijing Olympics, few wondered which way President Bush's administration would go.

There was never a realistic chance this White House would boycott the Chinese event. Jimmy Carter tried that in 1980, keeping the U.S. out of the summer games in Moscow as a reproach to the Soviet Union over its invasion of Afghanistan. The Soviets were furious. More to the point, Americans were disappointed. It was one more sour note in a dismal year that ended with Carter's ouster from office.

Four years later, when the Olympics were held in Los Angeles (and managed masterfully), they became a kind of metaphor for the improved mood in America -- and a virtual extension of Ronald Reagan's re-election campaign.

So George W. Bush was never going to choose the Carter route regarding the participation of U.S. athletes. The only question was whether the administration would grant the Chinese the full measure of respect and recognition they so clearly expected from us and everyone else. And that came down to the personal participation of the president himself.

Here again, it was always a good bet that Mr. Bush would be all in.

That's not to say there were no nods and salutes to the issue of human rights in China. Some attention has been paid to the dissenters and critics who have been brutally repressed (especially in the lead up to the game this spring and summer). A few were even invited to the White House. The president also gave a speech in Bangkok scolding the leaders of China just before he flew off to join them in Beijing at the opening ceremonies.

So now that's done, he seemed to say, let the games begin. The president will behave himself once on Chinese soil, and there will be no further fuss and bother about the embarrassing side issues.

Truth be told, the relationship with China has become every bit as important for the U.S. today as the relationship with the Soviet Union was throughout the various stages of the Cold War. While the two nations are not locked in a mortal arms race -- at least not yet -- they are true competitors in all the other facets of international relations.

Americans still hold the upper hand in matters military, and in high tech and consumer products. We are also farther along in harmonizing our various hungers with the need to preserve the environment. We may also think we have made greater strides in accommodating and appreciating human diversity.

But the Chinese are on the march in all these areas and more besides. Economically, they pose a challenge not only to the U.S., but the whole world. Their savvy handling of trade and finance, coupled with our own profligate habits, means the Chinese now hold half a trillion dollars in U.S. Treasury securities. They hold more IOUs from us than any nation other than Japan, and they are closing in on No. 1.

So yes, we care about human rights in China. But that is not the bottom line in our relationship. It's just an element in a mix that grows more materialistic (and less idealistic) with each year.

Ths is just one of several changing foreign relationships in the late months of the Bush administration. We have seen the U.S. become more pragmatic in dealing with the Iraqi government: allowing talk of time horizons, if not timetables, for withdrawal. The saber-rattling over Iran has given way to more multi-lateral pressure. We have seen more willingness to negotiate with North Korea, and less truculence toward parts of Europe.

President Bush has also succeeded in shifting the center of gravity for American policy toward the Far East. He has been to Asia nine times, to China four times. He has met with Chinese presidents 14 times. No one American chief executive has done this before. As Mr. Bush noted in his Bangkok remarks, we are now trading more goods by dollar value across the Pacific Ocean than across the Atlantic. The globe has a new tilt.

The president's travels this year have been about bidding farewell to the world, one sector at a time. The president can afford to ease off the aggressive posture of his early years. He has made his points about American power, American interests, American ideas.

He believes he has staked his reputation on principles of strength and activism. No one will doubt where he stood.

Now, with the clock running out and his approval ratings under 30 percent at home, he knows he cannot press for much more. So the State Department does what it can to smooth things over wherever possible, and the president makes his tour and waits for the judgment of history.

7:13 AM ET | 08- 8-2008 | permalink

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