A look at 40 years of renomination acceptance speech dos and don'ts -- and what Obama can learn from Clinton, Reagan, and even George W. Bush.
Barack Obama's speech at the Democratic National Convention in Charlotte will be a "Mountaintop Moment," one seeming to fulfill Dr. Martin Luther King's dreams in no small measure: An African-American president will accept his party's renomination in a majority-white city in the South led by an African-American mayor. Yet the president's focus cannot be on the history books of the future. He must instead excite his base and win over undecideds during his best chance to speak to the nation uninterrupted between now and November 6th.
Given the stakes for Obama, it is surprising that most of the pre-convention attention has been on the speech to be given by former president Bill Clinton. While surrogates may sway votes for nominees relatively new to the national stage, it's ultimately up to an incumbent president to make a compelling closing argument for his re-election. So while Clinton's 2012 speech may be of limited value, his 1996 convention remarks -- when Clinton accepted renomination -- offer Obama an important guide for how a sitting commander-in-chief can effectively plead his own political case.
Over the past four decades, Clinton and five other incumbent presidents have accepted the nomination of their respective parties for a second term. Four (Richard Nixon, Ronald Reagan, Clinton, and George W. Bush) went on to victory; two (Jimmy Carter and George H.W. Bush) to defeat. Here's what Obama can learn from Clinton, Clinton's fellow two-term winners, and the losers:
* Pick a serviceable metaphor and stick with it. Remember Clinton's "bridge to the 21st century"? Amazingly, 16 years later, many Americans still recall it, thanks to the fact that Clinton promised to deliver said structure linking the country to the new century and "to the future" 26 times in his '96 acceptance speech. The seemingly non-partisan metaphor actually packs a solid (albeit subtle) punch in favor of the traditional "pro-government" Democratic view. Bridges are a paradigmatic public work, something most taxpayers would surely deem indispensable. And the repetition gives the metaphor a life of its own, so that by the speech's end it feels as though the "bridge" that Clinton argues only he -- and not his opponent Bob Dole -- can deliver is literally necessary if Americans are to cross over from one millennium to the next.
The second-place medal in the metaphor category goes to Reagan's repeated invocation of flame and torch images in 1984, which worked well in a year when the U.S. hosted the Olympics and the Statute of Liberty lamp was refurbished. Conversely, Carter's 1980 dire image of the "dream world" of Reagan's promises causing Americans to "wake up to a nightmare" may have seemed too over-the-top for voters to believe. Same with Bush 41's suggestion that all would be right with America if voters would simply "roll ... away the roadblock" posed by congressional Democrats.
* KISS (Keep It Simple and Secondary) when it comes to foreign policy. As tempting as it might be for Obama to lead with the capture and killing of Osama Bin Laden, Bush's 1992 address shows why the urge should be resisted: Once you start talking about foreign policy -- be it the take-down of a terrorist or the end of the Cold War -- it's hard to stop. And in a time of economic insecurity, voters are more focused on their financial future than a president's triumphs abroad. Of course, the dividing line between domestic and international affairs is easily blurred, but incumbents forget the "all politics is local" admonition at their peril. H.W. Bush began his speech by acknowledging, "I know that Americans have many questions about our economy ... I'll answer them tonight." Inexplicably, he then immediately turned to and dwelled on foreign affairs. In retrospect, it's clear he should have said, "I'll address your economic concerns ... NOW."
Reagan and Clinton again set the standard, each starting with the home front before moving to matters abroad. Both then put their foreign policy successes in straightforward and numerical terms: "Since January 20th, 1981, not one inch of soil has fallen to the Communists" (Reagan); "[t]onight there is not a single Russian nuclear missile pointed at an American child" (Clinton). Their points are pointed yet digestible, even for voters who don't easily see a connection between their daily lives and foreign lands.
* Talk up your vice president. A nominee's first major decision is the tapping of a running mate. Four years later, a self-assessment of the pick can be tricky, particularly -- as in the case of Nixon (Spiro Agnew) or H.W. Bush (Dan Quayle) -- if the choice proves controversial. But it's not clear what a president gains by acknowledging disdain for his vice president, as Bush did in 1992: "My job has been made easier by a leader who's taken a lot of unfair criticism with grace and humor." Two decades earlier, Nixon's nod to the critics is less direct and his rejection of them more emphatic: "I thought [Agnew] was the best man for the job four years ago. I think he is the best man for the job today. And I am not going to change my mind tomorrow." Both Nixon and Bush I ignore the general rule (and safer choice) which is to pay one's number two the ultimate compliment and extol the vice president as "the best" (Carter on Walter Mondale and Clinton on Al Gore) or "finest" (Reagan on Bush I) or, at a minimum, "superb" (Bush II on Dick Cheney).