Name-Calling
Van Hilleary, absent anything real to say, falls back on a schoolyard approach
by Liz Murray Garrigan
We’re still fully seven months from the gubernatorial primary, but the campaign rhetoric is already harking back to such recent political high notes as the embarrassing 1994 “Phil pushed Peaches” episode and the event of the same year that had Bill Frist’s senatorial campaign calling opponent Bob Corker “pond scum.”
Bear in mind that Republican Van Hilleary has squeezed a cool $2.1 million from supporters, and Democrat Phil Bredesen has raised even more—$3.2 million.
What has it bought? For those who might have missed it, Hilleary has taken to accusing Democrat Phil Bredesen of using “weasel words” to describe his position on a state income tax. Bredesen has defended himself, reiterating that he doesn’t think an income tax is the way to cure the budget mess. For good measure, he has added that he doesn’t “know what’s weaselly about that.”
Hilleary might as well have convened focus groups from the best elementary schools across the state to advise him on his schoolyard approach. That way, the participants could have also weighed the effectiveness of heretofore-untapped characterizations such as “poo breath,” “butt brain,” “ass wipe” and “brown noser.”
In his very marginal defense, there is some positive news for Hilleary. As he well knows, he’s in good company. He stole his “weasel words” phrase directly from two-time presidential candidate Lamar Alexander, a former Republican Tennessee governor. In an uphill race in the last presidential election that had Alexander dropping out well before the Tennessee primary, he characterized both George W. Bush’s “compassionate conservative” mantra and Al Gore’s own two-word maxim as mere “weasel words.”
“I mean specifically Albert Gore’s 'practical idealism,’ and I mean also George Bush’s 'compassionate conservatism,’ ” Alexander said during the campaign. “Those are words that are cleverly and deliberately put together to confuse people, they mean exactly the same thing—they mean nothing.”
As for Bredesen, he should be awarded points for his comeback to the weasel word attack. While he certainly has his own set of weaknesses and vulnerabilities, he can be credited with taking a more adult approach this time around. “I don’t think Congressman Hilleary is using weasel words about anything,” he told reporters last week. “I take him at face value as to what he said. I believe he believes what he said, and I’d like to ask the same consideration from him.”
Not a spoiler
As Rev. Edwin Sanders, the pastor of Nashville’s Metropolitan Interdenominational Church, prepares to make a formal announcement for governor in the next 10 days or so, he’s been characterized by some as the potential Ralph Nader of next year’s governor’s race.
In other words, Sanders, who plans to run as an independent, could take crucial support from the Democratic nominee, just as the Green Party’s Nader did from Al Gore during the last presidential election. Some Democrats blamed Nader then for selfishly acting as a spoiler rather than supporting Gore, the person who most closely represented his ideology.
Until he formally announces, Sanders has little to say. But he bristles at the suggestion that he’ll be some sort of a novelty in the race for the state’s highest office.
“We’re in this race to win. We’re not interested in any other role. We believe there’s a sufficient level of dissatisfaction with the way in which the process has played out in recent times. It’s not about making a statement, and we have no intention of running to be a spoiler.”
It’s just a job
The American Heritage Dictionary defines a clerk as “A person who works in an office performing such tasks as keeping records, attending to correspondence or filing.”
At the risk of picking on Metro Council member Vic Lineweaver, a nice guy who is running to become Metro’s juvenile court clerk (key word: clerk) in the county’s upcoming election, we want to point out that Lineweaver, if elected, will not—we repeat, will not—change the city. Nor will the others he is running against.
But you would never know it from all the rhetoric.
In a prepared statement announcing his candidacy for the post this week, Lineweaver notes that he “wants to continue working for families,” claims to have “visited every public school in Davidson County” over several years, and knows what it takes to be “an advocate for Nashville’s most needy children.” He understands “the importance of positive adult leadership for young people,” and stresses that he is a sponsor of “youth softball, baseball, basketball, soccer and football across Davidson County.”
But can he handle a file cabinet? That is left unsaid.
As one observer put it, “It’s a job, not a chance to fix the world.”
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