By Mike Billings
Two candidates, one quite traditional and one not, are running long shot campaigns for the 2024 Democratic presidential nomination.
Some of the dynamics are familiar to Granite Staters.
The incumbent president is perceived as vulnerable, but commands great power, and is heavily favored. The president assumes a posture of distance from his primary campaign, to the point where the incumbent president’s name is not even on the ballot. There are status quo centered efforts to minimize the importance of the primary (which usually fail).
The challengers are seen as speaking unwelcome truths perhaps, but also seen as loose cannons, punching above their weight. That view is widely shared by the political leaders, but those are just the sort of candidates New Hampshire’s ever playful primary voters like to advance.
As always, speculation abounds about the impact of primary voters whose party is undeclared, and which primary or candidate they will throw their considerable weight to.
As always this unfolds in state whose size and culture give the whole thing a grass roots feel of accessibility, in an arena increasingly dominated by big money, big media, bossism, and tribalism.
In the past, write-in campaigns for president, incumbent and not, have won the NH primary. In the past, obscure congressmembers or senators, and non office holders, have won, or moved history by simply doing better than expected. But not always. A recent editorial in this publication, as well as a look at past primaries, explore these matters further.
The focus of this piece is the two long shot Democrat challengers, who labor amid the most serious threat ever to the existence of the NH presidential primary as we know it — a kind of farewell tour.
Marianne Williamson describes her first political awakening taking place as a teenager. Raised in Texas, her parents conservative Jews, she came home from school one day to describe a teacher’s support for US policy in Vietnam. Her father took her there to help her decide for herself. She describes her 20s as wasted, nomadic years. She sang in coffee shops, and was interested in “bad boys and good pot.” A not uncommon journey for people that age, in that time and place. The development of her interest in spiritual health and self help led her to Unity Church in Warren Michigan, and ultimately a very successful career as an author. One fan was Oprah Winfrey, who she advised, and the proximity amplified her work.
She did not begin a political career by running for alderman forty years ago. A well funded independent run for congress from California a decade ago drew 14% of the vote. She became a Democrat five years ago. She ran for the presidential nomination in 2020, her presence in early and crowded debates best remembered for talk about love, and a cabinet level department of peace. Easily depicted as an old hippie girl, her positions are not too different from those of Bernie Sanders or Dennis Kucinich. She is 71 years old, could pass for decades younger, and is campaigner of considerable magnetism. She speaks passionately and eloquently about the connection between the loss of the middle class, and the actual loss of freedom and democracy. She does this as competently as any more conventional pol, and is quick to stress that the constitution allows voters to define who is and isn’t “qualified” to run.
Corporate media made snarky references to the long shot status of Congressman Phillips and Ms. Williamson, after their mid December debate in Manchester. There was a lot of buzz about production values and such. This encounter can be found on line easily, and it is well worth a look. It contrasts favorably with the food fights passing as debate in recent election cycles, particularly in recent months.
Congressman Dean Phillips is 54. He often seems like a slightly overworked accountant. He was born the day Richard Nixon was sworn in as president. Later that year his father, Artie Cohen, was killed in Vietnam, days after the moon landing, in helicopter crash. His mother remarried the son of Pauline Phillips. Pauline is better known as the advice columnist Dear Abby. Dean’s step father also owned Phillips Distilling Company. Dean went to Brown University and got an MBA from the University of Minnesota. He found his own success in the coffee and gelato business, and was elected to congress in 2018 from the Twin Cities exurbs, ousting an incumbent in a district that had not elected a Democrat in decades. His wealth allows him to invest in his congressional campaigns, and plentiful resources assist him now.
His posture toward Biden is respectful, his record in congress supportive, but he became convinced Biden’s age, and inability to communicate against a ruthless and unscrupulous opponent, was assuring the return of Donald Trump. His desire to “do something” about Trump made him run for congress. He approached California Governor Gavin Newsom and Michigan Governor Gretchen Whitmer and urged them to run. They declined. So he is sounding the alarm the only way he can. For his trouble, primary for his House seat were launched. He withdrew from that race, “torpedoing” his career in congress, despite being quickly made part of the House leadership team, which does not usually happen to “lightweights.” Prior to challenging Biden he was lauded as one of the least partisan members of congress. He compares his pulling the plug on his congressional career to Liz Cheney sacrificing her own, in service to something more important. He cut ads for her in her doomed bid for reelection. He is running for exactly the same reason many wish he would not, a conviction that a second Trump presidency could mean the end American democracy and rule of law.