Of the man both of whose running mates were pro-life Catholics, Tim Stanley writes:
It is with deep regret that I report that George McGovern has died.
A Democratic Senator from South Dakota, McGovern was his party’s nominee for president in 1972. His campaign was called The Children’s Crusade because it mobilised thousands of students against the war in Vietnam and the morally ambiguous presidency of Richard Nixon. =
The scale of McGovern’s ambition and idealism were matched by the scale of his defeat – winning just one state, his campaign showed the limits of American liberalism. Moderate Democrats blamed McGovern’s radicalism and the McGovernites blamed Nixon’s dirty tricks.
But the sad truth is that a man like George was probably just too decent to win the presidency of the United States. Nobody has yet.
A Democratic Senator from South Dakota, McGovern was his party’s nominee for president in 1972. His campaign was called The Children’s Crusade because it mobilised thousands of students against the war in Vietnam and the morally ambiguous presidency of Richard Nixon. =
The scale of McGovern’s ambition and idealism were matched by the scale of his defeat – winning just one state, his campaign showed the limits of American liberalism. Moderate Democrats blamed McGovern’s radicalism and the McGovernites blamed Nixon’s dirty tricks.
But the sad truth is that a man like George was probably just too decent to win the presidency of the United States. Nobody has yet.
Let me correct some myths about George McGovern.
He was no peacenik; during World War II he flew in bombing missions across Europe and was decorated for his bravery. Nor was he another rich liberal like the Kennedys; his parents were rural Republicans in South Dakota and his father was a Methodist minister.
It wasn’t Mill or Rawls that shaped his view of life but the experience of poverty during the Great Depression and the vision of Hell that he saw over the cities that he bombed.
After the war, McGovern helped build the South Dakota Democratic Party out of nothing, won a seat in Congress and then a seat in the Senate.
He voted for the 1964 Gulf of Tonkin resolution that authorized escalation of US involvement in Vietnam – and soon regretted it.
By 1965 he was an acknowledged dove and in 1968 he ran for the Democratic presidential nomination on a peace ticket.
His second candidacy, in 1972, exploited the creation of a new nominating system based on caucuses and primaries. Packing caucuses with anti-war liberals, he was able to win the nomination with a mix of idealism and canny manipulation. McGovern was no fool.
He was no peacenik; during World War II he flew in bombing missions across Europe and was decorated for his bravery. Nor was he another rich liberal like the Kennedys; his parents were rural Republicans in South Dakota and his father was a Methodist minister.
It wasn’t Mill or Rawls that shaped his view of life but the experience of poverty during the Great Depression and the vision of Hell that he saw over the cities that he bombed.
After the war, McGovern helped build the South Dakota Democratic Party out of nothing, won a seat in Congress and then a seat in the Senate.
He voted for the 1964 Gulf of Tonkin resolution that authorized escalation of US involvement in Vietnam – and soon regretted it.
By 1965 he was an acknowledged dove and in 1968 he ran for the Democratic presidential nomination on a peace ticket.
His second candidacy, in 1972, exploited the creation of a new nominating system based on caucuses and primaries. Packing caucuses with anti-war liberals, he was able to win the nomination with a mix of idealism and canny manipulation. McGovern was no fool.
His campaign is remembered as the most liberal ever run by the Democrats,
but that too is a misunderstanding. Although he was dubbed the candidate of
“amnesty, abortion and acid”, the slur was undeserved.
McGovern wanted reduced penalties for marijuana possession, but never legalisation. He thought abortion was morally wrong and the actress Shirley MacLlaine helped him defeat a motion at the Democratic National Convention to abolish state laws against it.
And while he wanted a blanket pardon for Vietnam draft resisters, deserters would be treated on a case-by-case basis.
Other policies that McGovern was pilloried for were commonplace. His notorious guaranteed income plan was similar to proposals endorsed by the Nixon administration (it was different only in scale).
McGovern wanted reduced penalties for marijuana possession, but never legalisation. He thought abortion was morally wrong and the actress Shirley MacLlaine helped him defeat a motion at the Democratic National Convention to abolish state laws against it.
And while he wanted a blanket pardon for Vietnam draft resisters, deserters would be treated on a case-by-case basis.
Other policies that McGovern was pilloried for were commonplace. His notorious guaranteed income plan was similar to proposals endorsed by the Nixon administration (it was different only in scale).
In fact, everything McGovern advocated was shaped by a yearning for a
simpler, older time when the government was smaller and the citizen was bigger.
His opposition to military spending marked him out as a tax cutter and a fiscal hawk and his campaign was as critical of the Democratic Party machine as it was Nixon – for good reason.
It was a Democratic president who put America in Vietnam, and McGovern regarded the conflict as a stain on the country’s character. Every war is a tragedy, but Vietnam was reprehensible.
McGovern didn’t just feel anger about it; I think he felt guilt. He cut an ad in which he visited a veteran’s hospital, and what is remarkable about the film is the unedited anger of the boys he met.
These kids were furious – with the Generals, with the President, but also perhaps with George. He represented a generation of failed leadership, of the grey men in Washington who sent the young to fight an unwinnable war on their behalf.
McGovern’s greatest accomplishment was to earn the trust of boys like these – showing that a bridge between generations could be built and offering hope for progress and healing.
Critics sneered that McGovern's youthful campaign was staffed by "the beautiful people." But there's no escaping the beauty of his humility.
His opposition to military spending marked him out as a tax cutter and a fiscal hawk and his campaign was as critical of the Democratic Party machine as it was Nixon – for good reason.
It was a Democratic president who put America in Vietnam, and McGovern regarded the conflict as a stain on the country’s character. Every war is a tragedy, but Vietnam was reprehensible.
McGovern didn’t just feel anger about it; I think he felt guilt. He cut an ad in which he visited a veteran’s hospital, and what is remarkable about the film is the unedited anger of the boys he met.
These kids were furious – with the Generals, with the President, but also perhaps with George. He represented a generation of failed leadership, of the grey men in Washington who sent the young to fight an unwinnable war on their behalf.
McGovern’s greatest accomplishment was to earn the trust of boys like these – showing that a bridge between generations could be built and offering hope for progress and healing.
Critics sneered that McGovern's youthful campaign was staffed by "the beautiful people." But there's no escaping the beauty of his humility.
The things that made McGovern near-saintly also made him vulnerable.
His commitment to the marginalised cast him as the prisoner of special interest groups who used him to promote causes that the American public did not support. And his compassion denied him the ruthlessness that it takes to win.
After his nomination, McGovern struggled to find a vice presidential candidate. None of the big name Democrats wanted to run with him because they thought McGovern was a likely loser, so he settled for the little known Missouri senator Thomas Eagleton.
Eagleton went through the usual round of vetting and swore that he was clean. He lied. Shortly after the convention, it emerged that Eagleton had been hospitalised for depression.
Feeling sympathetic, McGovern said that he backed him, “1000 per cent,” but donations started to dry up and the party panicked.
Under pressure, McGovern u-turned and dropped Eagleton. His reputation as a clean, honest man was compromised.
In a final twist of the knife, it emerged many years later that the man who first coined the derogatory term “amnesty, abortion and acid” to describe McGovern was none other than … Thomas Eagleton.
George’s own party did as much to defeat him as Richard Nixon.
His commitment to the marginalised cast him as the prisoner of special interest groups who used him to promote causes that the American public did not support. And his compassion denied him the ruthlessness that it takes to win.
After his nomination, McGovern struggled to find a vice presidential candidate. None of the big name Democrats wanted to run with him because they thought McGovern was a likely loser, so he settled for the little known Missouri senator Thomas Eagleton.
Eagleton went through the usual round of vetting and swore that he was clean. He lied. Shortly after the convention, it emerged that Eagleton had been hospitalised for depression.
Feeling sympathetic, McGovern said that he backed him, “1000 per cent,” but donations started to dry up and the party panicked.
Under pressure, McGovern u-turned and dropped Eagleton. His reputation as a clean, honest man was compromised.
In a final twist of the knife, it emerged many years later that the man who first coined the derogatory term “amnesty, abortion and acid” to describe McGovern was none other than … Thomas Eagleton.
George’s own party did as much to defeat him as Richard Nixon.
After losing the 1972 election, McGovern was easily re-elected to the senate
in 1974. But he faced a tough battle in 1980 as conservative organisations
poured into the state to defeat him.
I worked on McGovern’s papers for my PhD, and the picture that emerged was that of a nice but innocent man overwhelmed by change.
One delightful story stood out. His campaign headquarters were on the edge of a park, and McGovern’s staffers noticed that every day at noon a man in sunglasses sat down on a bench opposite and seemed to watch them come and go.
These veterans of Watergate presumed that the stranger worked for the CIA, that he was staking out McGovern’s operation.
One of the staffers plucked up the courage to approach him. But when she asked him what he was doing, he jumped up with a cry and ran off into the bushes.
McGovern’s people had been blissfully unaware that for years they had been headquartered in the middle of a prominent gay cruising area. The world had changed without them noticing.
I worked on McGovern’s papers for my PhD, and the picture that emerged was that of a nice but innocent man overwhelmed by change.
One delightful story stood out. His campaign headquarters were on the edge of a park, and McGovern’s staffers noticed that every day at noon a man in sunglasses sat down on a bench opposite and seemed to watch them come and go.
These veterans of Watergate presumed that the stranger worked for the CIA, that he was staking out McGovern’s operation.
One of the staffers plucked up the courage to approach him. But when she asked him what he was doing, he jumped up with a cry and ran off into the bushes.
McGovern’s people had been blissfully unaware that for years they had been headquartered in the middle of a prominent gay cruising area. The world had changed without them noticing.
McGovern’s death marks the passing of a generation of liberals.
He was the spokesman of a movement that had both liberal and conservative dimensions: an instinct to help the poor and marginalised, but also an abhorrence for faceless bureaucracy.
For them, the war machine was the epitome of government gone wild, serving the needs of a corporate elite and conspiring against the people.
What they wanted wasn’t socialism but rather a return to the foundational principles of the American republic: freedom, equality and, most of all, peace.
The theme was historical, nostalgic.
In his 1972 acceptance speech, McGovern asked his country to “come home” – “Come home to the affirmation that we have a dream. Come home to the conviction that we can move our country forward. Come home to the belief that we can seek a newer world, and let us be joyful in that homecoming.”
He was the spokesman of a movement that had both liberal and conservative dimensions: an instinct to help the poor and marginalised, but also an abhorrence for faceless bureaucracy.
For them, the war machine was the epitome of government gone wild, serving the needs of a corporate elite and conspiring against the people.
What they wanted wasn’t socialism but rather a return to the foundational principles of the American republic: freedom, equality and, most of all, peace.
The theme was historical, nostalgic.
In his 1972 acceptance speech, McGovern asked his country to “come home” – “Come home to the affirmation that we have a dream. Come home to the conviction that we can move our country forward. Come home to the belief that we can seek a newer world, and let us be joyful in that homecoming.”
It’s time for George McGovern to come home, too.
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