Gore's (Evil?) Neccesity

The Democratic convention in Los Angeles was an affair of disconnection. In Hollywood terms: a Sylvester Stallone comedy -- only even less amusing.

On the final night, after a semi-cheesey bio-film narrated by Tipper Gore -- in which we learned such crucial information as the fact her husband "enjoyed family vacations as much as the kids" -- Al Gore took the stage and put forward the case for electing him president. The nation could become a more prosperous and fairer society, he asserted. Yet too often, "powerful forces and powerful interests stand in your way ... The power should be in your hands."

How could that be achieved? Gore had the answer: "Get all the special interest money out by enacting campaign finance reform." He vowed that were he to succeed Bill Clinton, the first piece of legislation he would send to Congress would be the McCain-Feingold bill to ban soft-money contributions. (These are the large contributions -- often in the range of $100,000 -- that corporations, unions, and well-heeled individuals make to the parties.) Referring to Big Tobacco, Big Oil, the HMOs, and the pharmaceutical industry, he maintained, "Sometime you have to be willing to stand up and say no [to them], so people can have a better life."

Gore has conceded that he cannot win the personality face-off with good ol' Geroge W. Bush ("I won't always be the most exciting"). Consequently, he has calculated his best bet is to portray himself as an advocate and defender of the commoner ("But I will work for you.") After eight years of Bill Clinton as Big Daddy, the choice is an affable buddy who you want to hang with or a brother you may not always like but who looks out for you. And Gore is willing to protect you from those special-interest bullies. That's not a bad way for Gore to frame the election. Perhaps it is his only chance.

But besides his inability to convey any message -- "I didn't feel that speech," one Democratic congressman complained afterward -- there are, at least, two other problems: history and reality.

Gore used to be known within Clinton circles as the "soliciter-in-chief" because he enjoyed the unseemly task of hitting up big-money contributors. When he was asking them to donate tens of thousands of dollars to the Democratic Party, did he tell these people he required the money so he could fight the power?

Of course, his own brushes with fundraising scandals taint his crusade. But human beings do experience conversions. Even a Vice President of the United States can grow.

Yet the Democratic convention, which was organized entirely for Gore's benefit, showed little evidence of such evolution.

With the proceedings scripted from opening to closing gavel, there was no action in Los Angeles, except for one activity -- fundraising. The week was jammed with corporate fundraisers for the Democrats. Corporate-sponsored parties. Corporate-sponsored golf tournaments. Corporate-sponsored shopping excursions. The Dems were happy to sop up as much corporate money as possible. (Note to Gore: that's money from "powerful forces.")

The party rewarded its deep-pocket donors with skybox seats and other amenities. The infamous $500,000 fundraiser sponsored by Representative Loretta Sanchez, first scheduled to be held at the Playboy mansion and then relocated to Universal Studio's City Walk, was underwritten by various corporations. (Asked about this, Sanchez claimed she did not know which corporations were on her side.) A bunch of energy companies feted Representative John Dingell, the ranking Democrat on the committee that deals with energy policy.

When Ted Kennedy addressed the convention and called for universal health care, the delegates on the floor cheered. I gazed up toward the skyboxes and saw few people applauding. No surprise there; the party of Al Gore has accepted over $10 million this election cycle from the health care and insurance industries. As with the Republicans' faux-diversity convention in Philadelphia, there was a reality-rhetoric gap in Los Angeles.