Small Town America
From The Scotsman, published in Edinburgh
The day that small town U.S. stormed world stage
By CHRIS STEPHEN
in New York
Sarah Palin was midway through her electrifying speech to the Republican convention on Wednesday night when she abruptly wandered off script.
"I love those hockey mums," she said, smiling. "You know, they say the difference between a hockey mum and a pit-bull: Lipstick."
The ad lib brought the house down, as well it might. For the party faithful it was confirmation that Mrs. Palin, until a week ago almost unknown, not only shared their values but had charisma to boot.
She didn't stop there. Mentioning Barack Obama only once by name, she nevertheless tore in to the Democrats' candidate.
"Victory in Iraq is finally in sight ... he wants to forfeit. Terrorist states are seeking nuclear weapons without delay ... he wants to meet them without preconditions.
"Al-Qaeda terrorists still plot to inflict catastrophic harm on America ... he's worried that someone won't read them their rights?"
Attempting to underline a reputation for down-home values, speaking of taking power as governor of Alaska, she said: "I got rid of a few things in the governor's office that I didn't believe our citizens should have to pay for. That luxury jet was over the top. I put it on eBay. I also drive myself to work."
And with fuel prices at the top of most Americans' worry list, she was unapologetic about renewed drilling in the U.S.
"To confront the threat that Iran might seek to cut off nearly a fifth of world energy supplies ... or that terrorists might strike again in Saudi Arabia ... or that Venezuela might shut off its oil ... we Americans need to produce more of our own oil and gas.
"And take it from a gal who knows the North Slope of Alaska: we've got lots of both."
Sarah Palin's public persona is rooted in Small Town America, a place she took time to praise by quoting president Harry Truman: "We grow good people in our small towns, with honesty, sincerity, and dignity,'" she said, then added: "I know just the kind of people that writer had in mind."
So do the Republicans: Those are the people that John McCain is now banking on to get him elected.
Small Town America seems a remote place to Europeans weaned on a diet of film and TV emanating from either coast.
Small Town America is derided by the inhabitants of New York or California as the "flyover" states because they are best observed from 40,000 feet.
For its fans, Small Town America is the heart of the country. It is the rose-tinted paintings of Norman Rockwell, neighbour helping neighbour, the farmer working hard by day and relaxing by night on his porch with family around him and Jesus at his shoulder. It is also the original article: Small towns were the first settlements, and, in the minds of millions, they resemble, more than the corrupted cities, the solid values of the first settlers.
Mrs. Palin encapsulated that image brilliantly. "She did it with a forceful smile, she did it in a way that was humanising," said radio talk show host Robert Traynham. "If I'm the Obama camp, I'm thinking I've got a problem."
In a single speech, more than Mr. McCain, more than Mr. Obama, she has defined the coming election.
"I guess a small-town mayor is sort of like a 'community organiser'" she said, with a dig at Mr. Obama's previous occupation. "Except that you have actual responsibilities."
Beyond talk of the economy, of health care, Iraq or global warming, this election is now set to be a replay of the Clinton-Obama primary battle earlier this year: Mr. Obama representing the city dwellers, Mr. McCain – egged on by Mrs. Palin – the God-fearing, duck-hunting, hard-working countryside.
Mrs. Palin herself drew the line in the sand, pouncing on an unguarded Obama comment from earlier this year that small town Americans "cling" to guns and God.
"I might add that in small towns, we don't quite know what to make of a candidate who lavishes praise on working people when they are listening, and then talks about how bitterly they cling to their religion and guns when those people aren't listening," she said.
Her own persona is the perfect Republican photo-fit: Her husband rides snowmobiles, she enjoys hunting moose and church activities, has raised five children and refuses talk of abortion even when carrying a Downs syndrome child.
Mrs. Palin has given what was a demoralised party a narrative they can run with: It is a narrative that says troubled times are the best times to return to the honest and simple values of hunting, fishing, hard work and Jesus.
Mrs. Palin is Christian, not in the sense of having tea with the vicar, but a bible thumper. She was baptised in the same Pentecostal Assemblies of God church of which the former Attorney General, John Ashcroft, was a member. It was he who said the Iraq invasion was doing God's work.
And Mrs. Palin sees the hand of the Almighty all around her, even in her desire to push a pipeline though Alaskan land now reserved as a polar bear habitat. Her job as governor, she explained, was reaching out to the people so that "We can work together to make sure God's will be done."
For the Republican top brass, a candidate who is both Small Town and Big Oil is a dream come true, ensuring funding will continue to roll in.
The first casualty in all this is Mr. McCain himself: He hoped to win the election by offering himself as a social liberal to a country tired of the failures of a right-wing Bush administration.
Instead, bullied by conservatives, Mr. McCain has himself swung right, coming as near as he can to agreeing that abortion should be scrapped, gay marriage banned and creationism taught in schools.
But while Republicans are invigorated by Mrs. Palin, Mr. McCain's task of reaching out to the middle ground just got harder.
Put on the spot, most Americans tell pollsters they support the right to abortion; and parents in most states object to the idea of teaching creationism.
Mr. McCain's move to the right may leave the middle ground clear for Mr. Obama.
Mr. Obama has already criticised the Palin speech, for failing to mention the economy, regarded by voters as the single biggest failing of the Bush administration. Mrs. Palin, and Mr. McCain, will need to put flesh on the bones, struggling, as Mr. Obama is, to translate soaring rhetoric into concrete ideas.
+ + + + +
Ideology the big issue for Christian candidate delivering electoral shock
PROFILE
People in the small Alaskan town of Wasilla remember how they got their first Christian mayor.
The traditional turning points that had decided municipal elections in the town of fewer than 7,000 people – Should we pave the dirt roads? Put in sewers? Which candidate is your hunting buddy? – seemed all but obsolete the year Sarah Palin, then 32, challenged the three-term incumbent, John C. Stein.
Anti-abortion flyers circulated. Mrs. Palin played up her church work and her membership in the National Rifle Association. The state Republican Party, never involved in the past because city elections are non-partisan, ran advertisements on Mrs. Palin's behalf.
"Sarah comes in with all this ideological stuff, and I was like, 'Whoa'," said Mr. Stein, who lost the election. "But that got her elected: abortion, gun rights, term limits and the religious born-again thing. I'm not a church-going guy and that was another issue: 'We will have our first Christian mayor'."
Shortly after becoming mayor, Mrs. Palin approached the town librarian about the possibility of banning some books.
Ann Kilkenny, a Democrat who said she attended every city council meeting in Mrs. Palin's first year in office, said Mrs. Palin brought up the idea of banning some books at a council meeting. "They were somehow morally or socially objectionable to her," Ms. Kilkenny said.
The librarian, Mary Ellen Emmons, pledged to "resist all efforts at censorship," Ms. Kilkenny recalled. The mayor fired Ms. Emmons shortly after taking office but rescinded the sacking after residents made a strong show of support. In 1996, Mrs. Palin suggested to the local paper, the Frontiersman, that conversations about banning books were "rhetorical".
The day that small town U.S. stormed world stage
By CHRIS STEPHEN
in New York
Sarah Palin was midway through her electrifying speech to the Republican convention on Wednesday night when she abruptly wandered off script.
"I love those hockey mums," she said, smiling. "You know, they say the difference between a hockey mum and a pit-bull: Lipstick."
The ad lib brought the house down, as well it might. For the party faithful it was confirmation that Mrs. Palin, until a week ago almost unknown, not only shared their values but had charisma to boot.
She didn't stop there. Mentioning Barack Obama only once by name, she nevertheless tore in to the Democrats' candidate.
"Victory in Iraq is finally in sight ... he wants to forfeit. Terrorist states are seeking nuclear weapons without delay ... he wants to meet them without preconditions.
"Al-Qaeda terrorists still plot to inflict catastrophic harm on America ... he's worried that someone won't read them their rights?"
Attempting to underline a reputation for down-home values, speaking of taking power as governor of Alaska, she said: "I got rid of a few things in the governor's office that I didn't believe our citizens should have to pay for. That luxury jet was over the top. I put it on eBay. I also drive myself to work."
And with fuel prices at the top of most Americans' worry list, she was unapologetic about renewed drilling in the U.S.
"To confront the threat that Iran might seek to cut off nearly a fifth of world energy supplies ... or that terrorists might strike again in Saudi Arabia ... or that Venezuela might shut off its oil ... we Americans need to produce more of our own oil and gas.
"And take it from a gal who knows the North Slope of Alaska: we've got lots of both."
Sarah Palin's public persona is rooted in Small Town America, a place she took time to praise by quoting president Harry Truman: "We grow good people in our small towns, with honesty, sincerity, and dignity,'" she said, then added: "I know just the kind of people that writer had in mind."
So do the Republicans: Those are the people that John McCain is now banking on to get him elected.
Small Town America seems a remote place to Europeans weaned on a diet of film and TV emanating from either coast.
Small Town America is derided by the inhabitants of New York or California as the "flyover" states because they are best observed from 40,000 feet.
For its fans, Small Town America is the heart of the country. It is the rose-tinted paintings of Norman Rockwell, neighbour helping neighbour, the farmer working hard by day and relaxing by night on his porch with family around him and Jesus at his shoulder. It is also the original article: Small towns were the first settlements, and, in the minds of millions, they resemble, more than the corrupted cities, the solid values of the first settlers.
Mrs. Palin encapsulated that image brilliantly. "She did it with a forceful smile, she did it in a way that was humanising," said radio talk show host Robert Traynham. "If I'm the Obama camp, I'm thinking I've got a problem."
In a single speech, more than Mr. McCain, more than Mr. Obama, she has defined the coming election.
"I guess a small-town mayor is sort of like a 'community organiser'" she said, with a dig at Mr. Obama's previous occupation. "Except that you have actual responsibilities."
Beyond talk of the economy, of health care, Iraq or global warming, this election is now set to be a replay of the Clinton-Obama primary battle earlier this year: Mr. Obama representing the city dwellers, Mr. McCain – egged on by Mrs. Palin – the God-fearing, duck-hunting, hard-working countryside.
Mrs. Palin herself drew the line in the sand, pouncing on an unguarded Obama comment from earlier this year that small town Americans "cling" to guns and God.
"I might add that in small towns, we don't quite know what to make of a candidate who lavishes praise on working people when they are listening, and then talks about how bitterly they cling to their religion and guns when those people aren't listening," she said.
Her own persona is the perfect Republican photo-fit: Her husband rides snowmobiles, she enjoys hunting moose and church activities, has raised five children and refuses talk of abortion even when carrying a Downs syndrome child.
Mrs. Palin has given what was a demoralised party a narrative they can run with: It is a narrative that says troubled times are the best times to return to the honest and simple values of hunting, fishing, hard work and Jesus.
Mrs. Palin is Christian, not in the sense of having tea with the vicar, but a bible thumper. She was baptised in the same Pentecostal Assemblies of God church of which the former Attorney General, John Ashcroft, was a member. It was he who said the Iraq invasion was doing God's work.
And Mrs. Palin sees the hand of the Almighty all around her, even in her desire to push a pipeline though Alaskan land now reserved as a polar bear habitat. Her job as governor, she explained, was reaching out to the people so that "We can work together to make sure God's will be done."
For the Republican top brass, a candidate who is both Small Town and Big Oil is a dream come true, ensuring funding will continue to roll in.
The first casualty in all this is Mr. McCain himself: He hoped to win the election by offering himself as a social liberal to a country tired of the failures of a right-wing Bush administration.
Instead, bullied by conservatives, Mr. McCain has himself swung right, coming as near as he can to agreeing that abortion should be scrapped, gay marriage banned and creationism taught in schools.
But while Republicans are invigorated by Mrs. Palin, Mr. McCain's task of reaching out to the middle ground just got harder.
Put on the spot, most Americans tell pollsters they support the right to abortion; and parents in most states object to the idea of teaching creationism.
Mr. McCain's move to the right may leave the middle ground clear for Mr. Obama.
Mr. Obama has already criticised the Palin speech, for failing to mention the economy, regarded by voters as the single biggest failing of the Bush administration. Mrs. Palin, and Mr. McCain, will need to put flesh on the bones, struggling, as Mr. Obama is, to translate soaring rhetoric into concrete ideas.
+ + + + +
Ideology the big issue for Christian candidate delivering electoral shock
PROFILE
People in the small Alaskan town of Wasilla remember how they got their first Christian mayor.
The traditional turning points that had decided municipal elections in the town of fewer than 7,000 people – Should we pave the dirt roads? Put in sewers? Which candidate is your hunting buddy? – seemed all but obsolete the year Sarah Palin, then 32, challenged the three-term incumbent, John C. Stein.
Anti-abortion flyers circulated. Mrs. Palin played up her church work and her membership in the National Rifle Association. The state Republican Party, never involved in the past because city elections are non-partisan, ran advertisements on Mrs. Palin's behalf.
"Sarah comes in with all this ideological stuff, and I was like, 'Whoa'," said Mr. Stein, who lost the election. "But that got her elected: abortion, gun rights, term limits and the religious born-again thing. I'm not a church-going guy and that was another issue: 'We will have our first Christian mayor'."
Shortly after becoming mayor, Mrs. Palin approached the town librarian about the possibility of banning some books.
Ann Kilkenny, a Democrat who said she attended every city council meeting in Mrs. Palin's first year in office, said Mrs. Palin brought up the idea of banning some books at a council meeting. "They were somehow morally or socially objectionable to her," Ms. Kilkenny said.
The librarian, Mary Ellen Emmons, pledged to "resist all efforts at censorship," Ms. Kilkenny recalled. The mayor fired Ms. Emmons shortly after taking office but rescinded the sacking after residents made a strong show of support. In 1996, Mrs. Palin suggested to the local paper, the Frontiersman, that conversations about banning books were "rhetorical".
posted by Norman Larson @ 8:55 AM
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