Al Cross: Rand Paul Keeps Giving New Ammo To Jack Conway". I Hope All Of This Is In The Past.
Rand Paul keeps giving new ammo to Jack Conway
By Al Cross
The U.S. Senate is not thoroughly representative. Each state has two senators, regardless of population, and they have special, national roles. They try impeachments, ratify or reject treaties, and confirm or block appointment of judges, ambassadors and major executive-branch officials.
But those special functions aside, the Senate is representative — of states and their interests, probably the only way the founders could have created a federal republic. And the Senate became more representative in 1913, when the power to elect senators shifted from state legislatures to voters.
If a senator is to represent his or her state effectively, he or she must know a lot about it. Rand Paul, this year's Republican nominee for Kentucky senator, falls short of that requirement, judging by some of his recently reported statements.
But one who would represent us must also have connections with us — personal ties that go beyond the knowledge gained in working six years for a governor and less than two years as attorney general. On that scorecard, Democratic nominee Jack Conway may also fall short.
Right now, the race's strongest candidate-voter connections are the philosophical bonds that Paul has established with the apparent plurality of voters who see him as a blunt instrument to administer a spanking to Washington.
But a senator is elected for six years, and the many issues in Congress will ebb and flow. If Paul is elected he will surely be a leader of the fight for smaller government, but he will also be expected to represent the interests of a relatively poor state that deserves federal help.
At times he seems ignorant of those interests.
The latest example was his statement last week to The Associated Press about rampant drug abuse in Eastern Kentucky: “I don't think it's a real pressing issue.” This came on top of his July declaration that the problem should be attacked locally, not by the federal program started by Republican U.S. Rep. Hal Rogers of Somerset.
Rogers' 5th District is one of the poorest in the country, and is “home to some of America's highest rates of drug abuse,” Rogers says on his website. And federal help is needed more than ever because of state budget cuts.
Paul has shown a lack of essential background knowledge about Eastern Kentucky. According to a profile in Details magazine, on his way to Harlan County in May he could not think of what it is known for — the bloody labor battles that helped give all American workers the right to organize.
He also told the Details reporter that “The Dukes of Hazzard” was set in Hazard. It was not, but Paul deserves half a pass on that because Hazard tried to capitalize on the show when it was on network TV. Still, if he is clueless about Harlan and confused about Hazard, you have to wonder if he knows anything about Hyden and Hindman; all are seats of adjoining counties.
You would expect the Bowling Green ophthalmologist to know more about Fancy Farm, the village at the other end of the state that hosts a political speaking as part of an annual church picnic. But Paul told conservative talk-show host Sean Hannity that it is “just a wild picnic . . . and you do worry about people throwing beer on you and throwing things on you.”
Fancy Farm is dry territory, and beer is kept under wraps. The crowd, though filled with partisans from both sides, does not throw things at speakers. Paul should know that, having attended at least two of the picnics.
Yes, Fancy Farm is a challenge for speakers. It's hot, they have to talk over constant heckling, and they have to sit and take abuse from the other side. Conway failed the test last year, telling hecklers he was “one tough son of a bitch.” The much-publicized profanity nearly cost him the nomination.
Last weekend's picnic was Paul's first real experience in the crucible. Perhaps he wouldn't have spouted off to Hannity if he had spent more time at the picnic, rather than showing up just before the speaking and leaving before it was over. Of course, if you're as prone to controversial statements as he is, you try to keep yourself insulated — and favor friendly interviewers.
Last week, Paul brushed off a Lexington TV reporter trying to ask follow-up questions after his Fox News interview about his apparently playful abduction of a college teammate. After first leaving the GQ magazine report undenied, Paul chose to deny it was a kidnapping, a word not used by GQ but by other news outlets. He also said he never forced anyone to use drugs; since the woman refused his demand that she smoke pot, he can arguably say that he never forced her to do so. Follow-up questions can deconstruct close parsing, but Paul told the reporter, “We answer it once or twice and we're done.”
Paul's statements to Hannity and Fox, and his emphasis on national issues at the expense of Kentucky interests, gave saliency to Conway's toughest Fancy Farm jab at Paul, that the Republican is “a waffling pessimist who wants to be the prince of cable TV.”
Conway gave a good speech at the picnic and the Democratic breakfast that preceded it, which he badly needed to do after last year's debacle and his failure to energize many Democrats in rural Kentucky. He exudes Duke University and Louisville's St. Xavier High School; he needs more Princeton (the one in Caldwell County, heart of Western Kentucky).
Conway's speeches at labor and Democratic events the day before got poor reviews, and such events can be more important than the picnic because they can create a sense of solidarity and purpose among supporters and put some juice into the campaign. That's especially true in an election that Republicans are making a referendum on President Obama, who is so unpopular in rural Kentucky that few Democrats will speak up for him.
The juice in this election belongs to the Republicans, who have squeezed it from anti-Obama feelings and Paul's strong philosophy. Yes, Paul is unusual and controversial, but voters are in search of something different, someone who will shake up the system. And with a weak economy, and national polls showing voters no longer think Democrats have better ideas, the race is still Paul's to lose. But he keeps giving Conway more ammunition.
Al Cross, former Courier-Journal political writer, is director of the Institute for Rural Journalism and Community Issues in the School of Journalism and Telecommunications at the University of Kentucky. His e-mail address is al.cross@uky.edu. His views are his own, not those of the University of Kentucky.
By Al Cross
The U.S. Senate is not thoroughly representative. Each state has two senators, regardless of population, and they have special, national roles. They try impeachments, ratify or reject treaties, and confirm or block appointment of judges, ambassadors and major executive-branch officials.
But those special functions aside, the Senate is representative — of states and their interests, probably the only way the founders could have created a federal republic. And the Senate became more representative in 1913, when the power to elect senators shifted from state legislatures to voters.
If a senator is to represent his or her state effectively, he or she must know a lot about it. Rand Paul, this year's Republican nominee for Kentucky senator, falls short of that requirement, judging by some of his recently reported statements.
But one who would represent us must also have connections with us — personal ties that go beyond the knowledge gained in working six years for a governor and less than two years as attorney general. On that scorecard, Democratic nominee Jack Conway may also fall short.
Right now, the race's strongest candidate-voter connections are the philosophical bonds that Paul has established with the apparent plurality of voters who see him as a blunt instrument to administer a spanking to Washington.
But a senator is elected for six years, and the many issues in Congress will ebb and flow. If Paul is elected he will surely be a leader of the fight for smaller government, but he will also be expected to represent the interests of a relatively poor state that deserves federal help.
At times he seems ignorant of those interests.
The latest example was his statement last week to The Associated Press about rampant drug abuse in Eastern Kentucky: “I don't think it's a real pressing issue.” This came on top of his July declaration that the problem should be attacked locally, not by the federal program started by Republican U.S. Rep. Hal Rogers of Somerset.
Rogers' 5th District is one of the poorest in the country, and is “home to some of America's highest rates of drug abuse,” Rogers says on his website. And federal help is needed more than ever because of state budget cuts.
Paul has shown a lack of essential background knowledge about Eastern Kentucky. According to a profile in Details magazine, on his way to Harlan County in May he could not think of what it is known for — the bloody labor battles that helped give all American workers the right to organize.
He also told the Details reporter that “The Dukes of Hazzard” was set in Hazard. It was not, but Paul deserves half a pass on that because Hazard tried to capitalize on the show when it was on network TV. Still, if he is clueless about Harlan and confused about Hazard, you have to wonder if he knows anything about Hyden and Hindman; all are seats of adjoining counties.
You would expect the Bowling Green ophthalmologist to know more about Fancy Farm, the village at the other end of the state that hosts a political speaking as part of an annual church picnic. But Paul told conservative talk-show host Sean Hannity that it is “just a wild picnic . . . and you do worry about people throwing beer on you and throwing things on you.”
Fancy Farm is dry territory, and beer is kept under wraps. The crowd, though filled with partisans from both sides, does not throw things at speakers. Paul should know that, having attended at least two of the picnics.
Yes, Fancy Farm is a challenge for speakers. It's hot, they have to talk over constant heckling, and they have to sit and take abuse from the other side. Conway failed the test last year, telling hecklers he was “one tough son of a bitch.” The much-publicized profanity nearly cost him the nomination.
Last weekend's picnic was Paul's first real experience in the crucible. Perhaps he wouldn't have spouted off to Hannity if he had spent more time at the picnic, rather than showing up just before the speaking and leaving before it was over. Of course, if you're as prone to controversial statements as he is, you try to keep yourself insulated — and favor friendly interviewers.
Last week, Paul brushed off a Lexington TV reporter trying to ask follow-up questions after his Fox News interview about his apparently playful abduction of a college teammate. After first leaving the GQ magazine report undenied, Paul chose to deny it was a kidnapping, a word not used by GQ but by other news outlets. He also said he never forced anyone to use drugs; since the woman refused his demand that she smoke pot, he can arguably say that he never forced her to do so. Follow-up questions can deconstruct close parsing, but Paul told the reporter, “We answer it once or twice and we're done.”
Paul's statements to Hannity and Fox, and his emphasis on national issues at the expense of Kentucky interests, gave saliency to Conway's toughest Fancy Farm jab at Paul, that the Republican is “a waffling pessimist who wants to be the prince of cable TV.”
Conway gave a good speech at the picnic and the Democratic breakfast that preceded it, which he badly needed to do after last year's debacle and his failure to energize many Democrats in rural Kentucky. He exudes Duke University and Louisville's St. Xavier High School; he needs more Princeton (the one in Caldwell County, heart of Western Kentucky).
Conway's speeches at labor and Democratic events the day before got poor reviews, and such events can be more important than the picnic because they can create a sense of solidarity and purpose among supporters and put some juice into the campaign. That's especially true in an election that Republicans are making a referendum on President Obama, who is so unpopular in rural Kentucky that few Democrats will speak up for him.
The juice in this election belongs to the Republicans, who have squeezed it from anti-Obama feelings and Paul's strong philosophy. Yes, Paul is unusual and controversial, but voters are in search of something different, someone who will shake up the system. And with a weak economy, and national polls showing voters no longer think Democrats have better ideas, the race is still Paul's to lose. But he keeps giving Conway more ammunition.
Al Cross, former Courier-Journal political writer, is director of the Institute for Rural Journalism and Community Issues in the School of Journalism and Telecommunications at the University of Kentucky. His e-mail address is al.cross@uky.edu. His views are his own, not those of the University of Kentucky.
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