How Walter Jones Grew a Conscience

In the heady atmosphere of war lust and post-9/11 New Patriotism that subsumed Washington in March 2003, GOP House Representative of North Carolina Walter B. Jones made a stand. Jones told the press that he hoped his effort to rename French fries, "Freedom Fries," in the House cafeterias would prompt visitors "to think of the thousands of military members overseas who are there for you, for me, and for the freedom of millions of people they never know personally."

It was the high-water mark in the Campaign to Hate France, a key splinter project of the Let's Get Iraq effort.

Two years later, Rep. Jones told North Carolina's big daily, the Raleigh News & Observer, that he wished the Freedom Fries incident "had never happened" and that Congress "must be told the truth" about the Iraq war.

Soon after, Jones stood with two of the most liberal Democratic representatives in Congress -- Dennis Kucinich and Neil Abercrombie -- and the Republican isolationist and libertarian Ron Paul to introduce legislation calling for the president to announce a withdrawal timetable by the end of this year. In other words, Walter Jones made one of the most staggering about-faces seen in Washington since George W. Bush took office.

What happened?

Mainstream newspapers and cable television's take on Jones' declaration so far has not gone much deeper than a kind of mild bewilderment. The surface-level political analysis on Jones that has made the progressive rounds goes something like this: shrewd, canny Republican realizes that calling for Iraq pullout is means of political survival in upcoming tumultuous 2006 elections, gets headstart against primary challengers. That analysis applies to the new posture Republican Senator Chuck Hagel struck, when he said a few days ago that the United States was "losing" in Iraq. Hagel intends to run for president and wants to distinguish himself from the pack.

But if re-election was the motivating principle behind Walter Jones' change of heart, you'd expect to find that his district -- North Carolina's 3rd -- was a swing district that narrowly went for Bush in November; that it was at the vanguard of dropping public opinion on Iraq; and that the county chairs, party activists and local residents had all been pressuring him to make a stand and call for withdrawal of the troops.

Nothing of the sort.

Jones' district is one of the most militarized in the country, if not the most. Sixty thousand veterans live in the 17 counties that make up his constituency, which on average voted at a mid-60s percentage level for Bush last November. There are three Marine bases that house thousands of active servicemen and their families; about 43,000 military and 5,000 civilians at Camp Lejeune in Onslow County; Cherry Point, the world's largest Marine Corp air station and Craven County's largest employer, which pumps $500 million annually into the economy; and Seymour Johnson Air Force Base which employs around 4,000 military and 500 civilians in Wayne County.

You can't be pro-military spending or patriotic enough for a congressional district like this. So no surprise then, that Walter Jones has a spot on the House Armed Services Committee or that he waded neck-deep in the propaganda effort to go to war in Iraq. Beside his Freedom Fries stunt, Jones has brilliantly shepherded his three garrisons out of Rumsfeld's massive base closure plans, presented to Congress this year.

Until recently, Jones was well-liked and respected by local Republican officials. The Republican county chairs I spoke with in his district told me they were caught flat-footed by his transformation. Steve Tyson, chair of Craven County (home of Cherry Point), told me he thought "it was more surprise than anything else for residents," whose reaction was this made him look "weak" on the military.