What Mrs. Palin
Could Learn
From Mrs. T

By BARBARA AMIEL

The glummest face Wednesday night might have been, if only we could have seen it, that of Hillary Clinton.

Corbis

Margaret Thatcher was a 49-year-old mother of two when she became Conservative Party leader in 1974.

Imagine watching Sarah Palin, the gun-toting, lifelong member of the NRA, the PTA mom with teased hair and hips half the size of Hillary's, who went ... omigod ... to the University of Idaho and studied journalism. Mrs. Palin with her five kids and one of them still virtually suckling age, going wham through that cement ceiling put there exclusively for good-looking right-wing/populist conservative females by not-so-good-looking left-wing ones (Gloria Steinem excepting). There, pending some terrible goof or revelation, stood the woman most likely to get into the Oval Office as its official occupant rather than as an intern.

Imagine Hillary's fury. The gnashing of teeth after all the years of sacrifice and hard work—a life of it—and then the endless nuisance of stylists, makeovers and fittings for Oscar de la Renta gowns for Vogue covers. And surely that gimmicky holding of the baby papoose style by Todd Palin after his wife's acceptance speech is sacrosanct left-wing territory! If only Chelsea had been younger of course, Bill could have done it and then, well, who knows what might have been forgiven him?

American feminists have always had a tough sell to make. To the rest of the world, no females on earth have ever had it as easy as middle-class American women. Cosseted, surrounded by labor-saving devices, easily available contraception and supermarkets groaning with food, their complaints have always seemed to have no relationship to reality.

Education was there for the taking. Marriages were not arranged. Going against social mores had no serious consequences. Postwar American women (excluding those mired in poverty or the odious restrictions of race) have always had the choice of what they wanted to be. They simply didn't decide to exercise it until it became more fashionable to get out of the home than to run it.

Sarah Palin has put the flim-flam nature of America feminism sharply into focus, revealing the not-so-secret hypocrisy of its code and, whatever her future, this alone is an accomplishment. As she emerged into the nation's consciousness, a shudder went through the feminist left—a political movement not restricted to females. She is a mother refusing to stay at home (good) who had made a success out in the workplace (excellent) whose marriage nevertheless is a rip-roaring success and whose views are unspeakable—those of a red-blooded, right-wing principled pragmatist.

The metaphorical hair stood up on the back of every licensed member of the feminist movement who could immediately see she was a monster out of a nightmare landscape by Hieronymus Bosch. Pro-life. Pro-oil exploration in Alaska, home of the nation's polar bears for heaven's sake. Smaller government. Lower taxes. And that family of hers: Next to the Clintons with their dysfunctional marriage, her fertility and sexually robust life could only emphasize the shriveled nature of the one-child family of the former Queen Bee of political female accomplishment.

Mrs. Palin's emergence caused a spasm in American feminism. Caste and class have always been ammunition in the very Eastern seaboard women's movement, and now they were (so to speak) loading for bear. Sally Quinn felt a mother of five had no business being vice president. Andrea Mitchell remarked that "only the uneducated" would vote for Mrs. Palin. "Choose a woman but this woman?" wrote Baltimore Sun columnist Susan Reimer, accusing Sen. McCain of using a Down's syndrome child as qualification for the VP spot.

The hypocrisy was breathtaking. Only nanoseconds before the choice of Mrs. Palin as VP put her a geriatric heartbeat away from the presidency, a woman's right to have a career and children was a shibboleth of feminism. One always knew that women with views that opposed those of official feminism were to be treated as nonwomen. To see it now out in the open was the real shocker.

The fact that this mom had been governor of a state was dismissed because it was a "small state," as was the city of which she had been mayor. Her acceptance speech, which knowledgeable left-wing critics feared would be effective, was dismissed before being delivered. She would be reading from a teleprompter. The speech would be good, no doubt, but written for her.

Had she been a man with similar political views, the left's opposition would have been strong but less personally vicious: It would have focused neither on a daughter's pregnancy, nor on the candidate's inability to be a good parent if the job was landed. In its panic, the left was indicating that to be a female running for office these days is no hindrance but an advantage, and admitting that there is indeed a difference between mothers and fathers that cannot necessarily be resolved by having daddy doing the diaper run.

All the shrapnel has so far been counterproductive. The mudslinging tabloid journalism—is Mrs. Palin the mother or grandmother of her Down's baby?—only raised her profile to a point where viewers who would never dream of watching a Republican vice-presidential acceptance speech tuned in.

Watching the frenzied reaction was déjà vu from my years as a political columnist in Margaret Thatcher's Britain. Modern history's titan of female political life suffered a similar hatred, fuelled to a large extent by her gender. Mrs. Thatcher overcame it magnificently, but in the end, the fact was that she was female and not one of "them"—a member of the old boys' club of the Tory establishment—played a significant role in bringing her down.

She was bound to be disliked vehemently by the left once she began to reveal her agenda of deregulation, sensible industrial relations, and tax reduction. Still among most of her enemies this had to do more with her ideas than her ovaries at the beginning. It was the aristocracy of her own Conservative Party that could not bear the notion of being led by "that woman." "Until she became leader," says Charles Moore, former editor of the Daily Telegraph and authorized biographer of Mrs. Thatcher, "it was assumed she could not be it because of her sex."

Mrs. Thatcher was originally given the education portfolio by Prime Minister Edward Heath, though she wanted to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, the equivalent of the U.S. Treasury Secretary. Education was considered a woman's job, and regarded as far less important than it would be today. In the education portfolio she was excluded from higher counsels and out of the way. When she challenged Heath for the party leadership in February 1974, at age 49, she turned the tables and used her gender to appeal to the gallantry of disaffected Tory backbenchers. "She's a very brave girl," they would say.

Mrs. Thatcher, a good-looking woman, used her sexual attractiveness to its legitimate hilt. She was known to flirt both with caucus members and the opposition, her face tilted girlishly in conversation. She succeeded politically with those leaders with whom she could flirt—including Ronald Reagan, Francois Mitterrand and most unlikely of all, Mikhail Gorbachev. Her stylish, hint-of-Dr. Zhivago wardrobe for a 1987 visit to the Soviet Union became something of a national obsession.

Such attractiveness had the opposite effect on the Tory grandees. Books have been written on what it was that nurtured their contempt. After all, they were in the same political party, and their fortunes rested on her popularity.

No doubt part of the animosity arose from her origins as the daughter of a Grantham grocer, a woman whose home address was a street number rather than an estate with simply the house name. Lord Ian Gilmour of Craigmillar dismissed Mrs. Thatcher as "a Daily Telegraph woman"—code language for some ghastly suburban creature wearing a tasteless flowered hat. Winston Churchill's son-in-law, Christopher Soames, a man of much genuine intelligence, allegedly called her "Heath with tits"—an inaccurate and inelegant description, but one that captured exquisitely the contempt his class had for her. Both Gilmour and Soames were fired by Mrs. Thatcher in the housecleaning that took place during the late '70s and early '80s. But the core of High Tories remained active in the party waiting to bring her down.

The British feminist movement at that time was of little import. "I owe nothing to women's lib," Mrs. Thatcher remarked, thus assuring herself of a permanent place in their pantheon of evil. During her years in power, Mrs. Thatcher could and did use the rhetoric of home economics in a way a prudent male politician no longer dared do. Metaphors of kitchen and gender abounded in her speeches: "it is the cock that crows," she would say, "but the hen that lays the eggs."

Mrs. Thatcher would have recognized the guns aimed at Sarah Palin as the weapons of the left with feminist trigger-pullers. She also would have known that Mrs. Palin has less to fear from East-Coast intellectual snobs in egalitarian America than she had to fear from her own Tory base in class-prejudiced Britain. She would have told her to stand her ground and do her homework. Read your briefs, choose advisers with care, and, as she once said to me, my arm in her grip and her eyes fixed firmly on mine, "Just be yourself, don't ever give in and they can't harm you."

It wasn't quite true, of course. She did read her briefs, did stand her ground, and in the end they pulled her down, those grandees. But she made history. If a grocer's daughter can do it, a self-described hockey mom cannot be dismissed.

Ms. Amiel is a columnist for Macleans', the Canadian weekly newsmagazine, and a former senior political columnist for the Sunday Times of London.

The McCain Change

John McCain last night savored the triumph of securing the Republican nomination for President, though his misfortune is to win it in a year when the GOP is at its lowest ebb since the Watergate era.

AP

By historic standards, he should be a sure loser. Yet Mr. McCain remains a formidable contender -- in part because of his opponent's weaknesses, but also because he can credibly claim to be a reformer who often fought his party's worst instincts, notably on spending and immigration. His chances of winning now hang on whether he can make the case to voters seeking change that a President McCain can shake up government while a President Obama would merely expand it.

* * *

If this election were solely about biography and national security, Mr. McCain would win in a walk. As the son and grandson of admirals, Mr. McCain embodies a personal philosophy anchored in notions of courage, duty and honor. He is also a well known figure in American public life, starting with his military service as a fighter pilot, his trauma and steel as a POW in North Vietnam, and as a Senator and Presidential candidate across 20 years. His political character -- a tenacity that can sometimes turn stubborn, a bias for action that can sometimes be impetuous -- is an open book, in marked contrast to Barack Obama's calculated opacity.

Mr. McCain would also bring a wealth of good instincts and personal knowledge to the role of Commander in Chief. This is apart from his military experience, as helpful as that can be in decisions about war and peace. On the two most important recent national security issues -- Russia and Iraq -- his judgment has been both prescient and correct.

He warned early that Vladimir Putin was leading his country in a revanchist direction. Russia's invasion of Georgia last month -- and the possibility that it might attempt similar adventures in Ukraine and the Baltics -- has brought this home even to Mr. Obama, who after a couple of false starts is now sounding like a hawk. But Mr. McCain showed a statesman's foresight and has offered meaningful ideas for imposing costs on Russia for its adventurism.

Similarly with Iraq, Mr. McCain advocated more troops from an early date, as well as a counterinsurgency strategy along the lines of the 2007-08 surge. He stuck with this counsel even as the war became more unpopular and he knew it could ruin his Presidential candidacy. This, too, is in marked contrast not merely to Mr. Obama but also to Joe Biden, who voted for the war but opposed the surge. Now the U.S. and the Iraqi government are on the cusp of victory, leaving the next President in a far better strategic position against al Qaeda and throughout the Middle East.

With all of this going for him, Mr. McCain will have to resist the temptation to fight this election mainly on character and experience. His own campaign manager suggested this week that this election will be about "character" more than issues. But that is a losing strategy in a year when the electorate is also looking for change at home, especially a stronger economy and rising after-tax, after-inflation incomes. Mr. McCain can only win if his character advantage is applied to an agenda of genuine change.

A campaign for reform would have the virtue of fitting both Mr. McCain's temperament and history, and it would justify his selection of 44-year-old Sarah Palin as his running mate. Democrats and the media are saying the choice of Mrs. Palin reflects Mr. McCain's impetuosity -- though they surely would have derided a more conventional choice as "more of the same." Our view is that her selection reflects Mr. McCain's recognition that he needs an energized coalition to win, and that he also is thinking about his party's political future.

Moreover, Mr. McCain is proposing a policy agenda that really would shake up the status quo. His health-care reform would give to individuals the tax benefits that only businesses now have. His proposal of an optional flat tax would go far to rationalize the tax code, just as cutting the corporate tax rate (currently the second highest in the industrialized world) would stem the flow of investment -- and jobs -- abroad. Mr. McCain has also wised up to the benefits of domestic drilling for energy, a good idea that has put Mr. Obama on the defensive. On the other hand, he still clings to a "cap and trade" anticarbon proposal that could vastly expand the federal government.

The challenge for Mr. McCain is linking those proposals to a broader philosophy of government that can mobilize a majority. He will need that support because as President he would likely face a Congress that is both more Democratic and more bitter, if the latter is possible. Though Ronald Reagan is his hero, Senator McCain has never seemed to have the Gipper's philosophical anchor -- and so the risk is that his Presidency would be one of improvisation, for better or worse.

* * *

One thing we're sure of is that a McCain Presidency would not be George W. Bush's third term, notwithstanding Mr. Obama's frantic attempts to link them. Mr. Obama figures he'll win if he can merely persuade an electorate eager for change to throw out the Republicans. Mr. McCain's task is more difficult: To convince voters that his reform politics is superior to the status quo while also persuading voters that Mr. Obama's brand of change is more dangerous. With his speech last night, Mr. McCain reinforced for Americans his stellar leadership qualities. For the next eight weeks he will have to make a more specific case for his vision of re

Sarah Palin's Surge

By now nearly everyone in America knows that Sarah Palin described herself at the GOP convention Wednesday night as "just your average hockey mom." She isn't average anymore, though she can still throw a hip check. After a national political debut that ranks with Barack Obama's in 2004 and Ronald Reagan's in 1964, the Alaska Governor may be the future of the Republican Party.

With his nomination last night, John McCain is now the leader of the GOP (see here). But win or lose in November, Senator McCain has elevated Mrs. Palin to new prominence and jumbled Republican categories in a healthy way. The reaction at St. Paul's Xcel Center—and the fascination around the country—shows how welcome this is.

For the past several years, the GOP has been caught in the malaise of what we have often called the Beltway status quo. As insurgents challenging Washington mores in the 1980s and 1990s, Republicans were the party of ideas and energy. But over time, as the Bush Presidency ran into trouble and the Tom DeLay Congress began to care most about its own re-election, the party lost its verve, even its raison d'etre.

On Wednesday, Governor Palin offered a new populist excitement, both as a messenger and in her message. By "messenger," we aren't merely referring to her gender, though that seems to be the preoccupation of the media. Her relative youth (44) and large family—complete with its many complications—were themselves a cultural statement. Though many in the media claim she was chosen because she appealed to the Christian right, Mrs. Palin never even raised the subject of abortion. She didn't have to, since her youngest son, the one with special needs, is proof enough of her pro-life conviction.

The same goes for her record of challenging the powers that be in Alaska. With so many Republicans tainted by corruption, GOP voters have been aching for someone willing to challenge that business as usual. By all accounts, Mrs. Palin has done so in Alaska, and is popular for it. In the coming weeks, we'll learn more about her Alaska record, and rightly so. Her governing record is fair—even essential—media game, in contrast to her daughter Bristol's pregnancy.

It's being said that in choosing Governor Palin, Mr. McCain was making a play for disaffected Hillary Clinton voters. Yet we heard just one line invoke women as a political issue, and then only in a positive sense: "This is America, and every woman can walk through every door of opportunity." Our sense is that the Governor's real political potential lies in her appeal to Reagan Democrats and Truman Republicans, voters Mr. McCain will need in November.

Mrs. Palin was certainly helped this week by the media contempt for her selection. The condescension has been so thick that it offended not just Republicans in St. Paul but others who may have tuned in Wednesday to see if she was as unqualified as Sally Quinn and David Frum said she was. Mrs. Palin's refusal to be cowed is the kind of triumph over media disdain that most Americans relish.

No doubt the press corps—and Democrats—are anticipating that Mrs. Palin will be another Dan Quayle, who was a 41-year-old Senator when he was nominated for vice president in 1988. George H.W. Bush foresaw Senator Quayle as a similar reach across generations. But at the first sign of criticism, Mr. Bush's advisers gave Mr. Quayle a paint-by-numbers speech and all but stuffed him into a trunk for the duration of the campaign. His reputation never recovered.

The McCain camp wisely let Mrs. Palin play the role of a traditional Vice Presidential candidate in attacking the opposition, and doing so in her own voice. Her dissection of Mr. Obama's thin Presidential resume was as effective as anyone's, all the more so because she could compare her own executive experience to the 47-year-old Senator's.

We hope the campaign now resists any temptation to keep her under wraps. No doubt she will make mistakes on the stump, as everyone does, especially with an embarrassed press corps now looking for any what-is-the-capital-of-Laos-type mistake. But after this week, Mrs. Palin won't be easy to dismiss as too small for the job.