Michelle Bachmann on the Campaign trail. Chris Buck for Newsweek
Why Michele Bachmann is riding high going into Iowa.
In Newsweek Magazine Lois Romano Aug 7, 2011 10:00 AM EDT
Barreling past Iowa’s iconic cornfields aboard a blue campaign bus, Michele Bachmann tries to explain the uncanny political force that has catapulted her from a backbencher in Washington to a leading contender on the presidential trail. She has just finished electrifying a crowd in Ft. Dodge, Iowa, with a folksy assault on a bloated federal government that she and her Tea Party compatriots routinely vow to dismantle. “Obamacare” will be repealed in a Bachmann administration, the Republican congresswoman from Minnesota vows. G-men won’t tell you what lightbulbs you can use, either. And more of your hard-earned money will end up in your pocketbooks, not on the ledgers of mindless bureaucrats.
Such refrains have become all too familiar in Bachmann’s other world back in Congress, thanks to the yearlong rise of the Tea Party that just brought Washington to a standstill and the nation to the brink of default. But in Iowa, Bachmann’s simple, black-and-white distillations of complex problems are cheered as refreshing and tough. It’s part of the reason she finds herself favored to finish near the top of the Ames Straw Poll on Aug. 13, the first political-strength test of the arduous 2012 presidential contest.
Petite and prim, the 55-year-old mother of five delivers her stump speech with the earnestness of a preacher. She pulls out a huge whiteboard and for dramatic effect scrawls just how many zeros can be found in a trillion.
The elderly, the unemployed, the exasperated, and even a few disillusioned Democrats crowd her rallies and cheer her not-going-to-take-it-anymore shtick, even as they recognize some of its inherent contradictions.
“You use the word ‘anger.’ It’s not anger,” Bachmann told NEWSWEEK. Americans aren’t expressing “unhinged anger,” she says. “People are saying the country is not working.”
Married in 1979, Bachmann raised five children in Stillwater, Minn., and eventually fostered 23 kids. She has said her husband directed her to study tax law, and she obliged because “the Lord says: be submissive, wives; you are to be submissive to your husbands.” Asked about her choice of words, she explains, “That means that I respect my husband, and he respects me.” But in a Bachmann White House, she adds, “I would be the decision maker.”
Just months ago, Bachmann was the butt of jokes on late-night TV for her flawed grasp of U.S. history. But all that changed one night this spring when she took the stage at the first major GOP presidential debate with the middle-aged, drab men running for the nomination, and set herself apart with poise and precision. When others meandered or waffled, she shot back with answers that reduced Washington’s dysfunctional gridlock to understandable soundbites.
In Iowa, where she was raised, Bachmann has become the living embodiment of the Tea Party. She and her allies have been called a maniacal gang of knife-wielding ideologues. That’s hyperbole, of course. But the principled rigidity of her position has created some challenges for her campaign.
One is overcoming the perception of hypocrisy. Democrats—and some of Bachmann’s Republican opponents—have noted the gulf between her rhetoric and record. She earned a federal salary as a lawyer for the IRS (an agency despised by the Tea Party), for example. Pressed on whether she took Americans to court to force them to pay back taxes, she answers carefully. “Our employer was the United States Department of Treasury. That’s who paid my salary,” she says. “And the client that we represented was the IRS.” She also says that the job opened her eyes to the “huge bureaucracy and how devastating high taxes are on almost every sector of the economy…farmers and families and small businesses and individuals.”
Bachmann owned a stake in her father-in-law’s farm that received more than $250,000 in federal agriculture subsidies between 1995 and 2008. She says that money all stayed with her in-laws. In Congress, she tried to secure more than $3.7 million in federal earmarks for her district—the kind of pet projects she has blamed for excessive spending. And she railed against Obama’s $800 billion–plus Recovery Act as wasteful, then signed a half-dozen letters seeking stimulus funds for local projects. Her requests in 2009 echoed the arguments Republicans lampooned Obama for using. A bridge project could create nearly 3,000 jobs a year, Bachmann wrote, while a highway project would “promote economic prosperity.”
But far more damaging than the charge of double standards may be the growing realization among Americans of just how radical the Tea Party movement really is. The willingness of its most committed members to risk national default for the sake of achieving its political goals has no doubt contributed to the dramatic rise in the number of Americans who view the movement unfavorably. In a New York Times/CBS News poll published on Aug. 5, 40 percent of respondents described their opinion of the Tea Party as “not favorable”—up from 18 percent in April 2010.
At a time of population growth, increasing health-care costs, swelling ranks of retirees, and a sharp and prolonged economic slump—all of which point to the need for increases in federal spending just to meet government’s existing obligations—Bachmann and her Tea Party allies demand that Washington spend less. But they don’t just demand that spending increase less from year to year than previously planned; that’s what Congress and the president agreed to in the deal that ended the debt standoff, to the tune of $2.4 trillion over the next 10 years (albeit followed by a downgrade four days later). Rather, Bachmann and the Tea Party go much further, insisting that the federal government actually shrink over time, spending less money from year to year as its commitments grow.
That means, of course, that its commitments would have to shrivel as well. In the Tea Party’s ideal vision of America, large federal agencies and federal programs would be dismantled and the savings redirected to states with block grants and individuals through lower taxes. Whether that would leave people at the mercy of the freewheeling (and often treacherous) marketplace remains an open and untested question.
Asked if her positions are extreme, Bachmann replies that the Tea Party’s ideals are simply the most rational solutions to a broken and profligate government, and that the only option is to stand tough. “I do not twist in the wind,” she says proudly.
There’s no telling if Republican primary voters will reward such intransigence. Even within the Tea Party itself, Bachmann is a polarizing figure. Many—especially in Iowa, with its high percentage of evangelical Christians—respond rapturously to her combination of antigovernment fervor and religiously inspired moral traditionalism on issues like abortion and gay marriage. But others are more consistent in their distaste for governmental meddling. For Matt Welch, editor in chief of the libertarian Reason magazine, Bachmann isn’t the “queen of the Tea Party.” In fact, he says, “she will have trouble” with its rank and file “if she’s seen as being more concerned about social issues” than cutting the federal budget.
For Bachmann, those issues are personal. Raised a Lutheran, she says she converted to a “living faith” at the age of 16 after attending a prayer meeting with a friend. “All I can say is that, you know, the Holy Spirit knocked on my heart’s door,” Bachmann recalls. “I literally got on my knees with some of my friends and then confessed my sins …I gave my heart to Jesus Christ.”
Other criticisms of her candidacy point to what she’s done since arriving in Washington. “Her record in Congress is…great remarks and great speeches, but in terms of results and accomplishments, nonexistent,” says former Minnesota governor Tim Pawlenty, whose presidential campaign has the most to lose in Ames. Bachmann dismisses the critique, hoping to convert a strong showing in the straw poll into momentum among voters and fundraisers elsewhere.
If there’s one threat on the horizon, it’s Texas Gov. Rick Perry’s expected entrance into the race. He, too, offers evangelical fervor coupled with a stand against big government. But he has something she lacks: an executive record as the longest-serving governor in a state that is thriving in hard times. It doesn’t seem to faze her.
For now, Bachmann revels in the Iowa crowds, which don’t fuss about the missing fine print behind her ideas, the perceived contradictions among them, or their radicalism.
David Dankel, a lifelong Democrat who voted for Obama, came to Ft. Dodge to see Bachmann because he was “tired of paying for everyone else.” In April, Dankel saw his $16-an-hour factory job of 23 years move to Mexico. “I was getting ahead and now I can’t find a job. Obama promised change—well, where is it?”
Sitting on the edge of a metal folding chair in a sweltering parking lot, Donna Fouts, 73, doesn’t seem to care that Bachmann planned to vote against the debt-ceiling compromise that would ensure the arrival of her Social Security check and the military benefits owed to her sons and nephews. “Well, I’m sick of all them other politicians that tell me what to do with my life,” she answers. “Something about her tells me to follow her.”
But Perry's precise words -- "in Texas we teach both creationism and evolution in our public schools" -- weren't exactly spoken in error. Texas biology teachers must teach evolution, can't teach Creationism, and can't teach Intelligent Design or any other forms of crypto-Creationism. But the state's curriculum does require schools to teach students to analyze and critique all scientific theories. And that means conservatives like Perry can pretend a loophole exists.
Asked for clarification, Perry's spokesman Mark Miner emails, "It is required that students evaluate and analyze the theory of evolution, and creationism very likely comes up and is discussed in that process. Teachers are also permitted to discuss it with students in that context."
Debbie Ratcliffe, a spokeswoman for the Texas Education Agency issued TPM a similar statement "Our science standards require students to analyze, evaluate, and critique scientific explanations, so it is likely that other theories, such as creationism, would be discussed in class," she said. "Our schools can also offer an elective course on Biblical history and it is likely that creationism is discussed as part of that class too."
That's a far cry from the image Perry conveyed Thursday of science teachers offering "on the one hand" versions of the origin of species.
So did Perry accidentally reveal a secret hidden in plain sight, or was it a misleading dog whistle aimed at the religious conservatives who have tremendous influence over the Republican primary?
Experts and educators suggest the latter.
"The idea that the standards require or even permit the teaching of creationism is wrong, and if the board is saying that -- the board answers to the governor so I can understand why they might say it, but it's not true," says Josh Rosenau, policy director for the National Center for Science Education. "Under almost almost any plausible interpretation of what he said it's either not true or he's advocating something that's unconstitutional." Talking Points Memo on Facebook
Texas Essential Knowledge and Skills (TEKS) -- the state's official K-12 curriculum -- notes that students are expected to "in all fields of science, analyze, evaluate, and critique scientific explanations by using empirical evidence, logical reasoning, and experimental and observational testing, including examining all sides of scientific evidence of those scientific explanations, so as to encourage critical thinking by the student."
But as Ross Ann Hill, president of the Science Teachers Association of Texas pointed out to me, evolution is part of the curriculum and creationism is not. Students are expected to know that "evolutionary theory is a scientific explanation for the unity and diversity of life."
"Does it come up? I mean does the topic of Mars come up? Anything can come up in a classroom, but it's not what we are required to teach," Hill said. "It is tricky when a student brings up something like that. By law I cannot deny viewpoints to the kids no matter what side of the issue I'm on [but] I cannot teach creationism."
This illustrates the distinction between what Perry claimed yesterday, and what his staff and the Ed Board say in clarification.
In their book Evolution, Creationism, and the Battle to Control America's Classrooms, Penn State professors Michael Berkman and Eric Plutzer report survey findings that about one in eight biology teachers nationwide advocate Creationism or Intelligent Design as a regular part of their annual syllabi. Another one in twenty advocate it in passing when responding to their students' questions.
"I would bet money that those numbers are higher in Texas but i don't really have anything to go on," Rosenau noted. The state's standards, he acknowledges, "could open the door" for a teacher who wanted to teach Creationism, but such a teacher would be running afoul of "good pedagogy [and] Constitutional law."
Kevin Fisher, a former STAT president and current president of the Texas Science Education Leadership Association says the controversy sometimes has a chilling effect. He estimated that about 10 to 15 percent of teachers "are scared to even bring it up in class" for fear of inciting a controversy with local parents. That would leave those kids unprepared for the state assessment test and college biology courses, but they would fortunately be the minority.
"Usually if creationism is brought up, teachers would discuss the nature of what is science and not science...and help the students understand the difference between science and religion." Fisher told me. What Perry said, "is not an accurate statement about what occurs in Texas science classrooms."
Hill -- a 7th and 8th grade teacher -- basically agrees with that analysis, and particularly questions Creationism teachers who treats the the state's standards as incompatible with their beliefs.
"I wonder too if a teacher is teaching creationism or evolution as opposing one another, I would have to wonder if that teacher really understood the facts on both sides," she said.
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Desperate Times: The Dark Side of Tim Tebow Worship
Bleacher Report 2009/1/11/ 10:59
"If you are fortunate enough to spend five minutes around Tim Tebow, your life is better for it."
It's a certain nominee for the best broadcast fellatio in a very young 2009. While Thom Brenneman normally strikes me as a good broadcaster, his lovefest with the Florida quarterback has become a springboard for internet jokes and commentary, and rightly so.
But there's something deeper in his comment that warrents exploration. To many, Tim Tebow really does live on a pedestal. Words like "grounded," "mature," and even "saintly" fly off the silver tongues of former interviewers.
You see, in modern America image is everything and Tebow's currently lives in that special class of the All-American unblemished leader with Lou Gehrig and Roger Staubach, George Washington and a host of John Wayne characters.
It's an anthropoligical reality that societies need their legendary heroes, and the probing criticism of our modern media age has made them hard to create. We're literally starving for icons.
Our recent baseball stars, save a few from the 80s like Tony Gwynn or Cal Ripken, have the slight taste of steroid-laden dishonesty. The NBA has tarnished the reputation of its all-time great and now features a troupe of narcissists. The NFL has Tom Brady and Peyton Manning, both of whom have lost that magic around their image due to negative exposure in the media (Brady through his personal life; Manning through his clumsy commercials), and a criminal-of-the-week feature on ESPN's Bottom Line.
But then there's Tim Tebow.
In Tebow our media sees to see a bright, shining starlet of humanity, a young man all want as their son or son-in-law, a leader and energetic achiever with humility, that commodity so rare in high-achievers.
And so they've made him college football's favored son.
But then there's First Baptist Church of Jacksonville. One of those mega-super-churches that sprung up in the 80s and has swallowed local churches to gain in mass since, FBC Jacksonville is one of the largest Southern Baptist congregations in America with 28,000 members. .. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/First_Baptist_Church_of_Jacksonville .. Tim Tebow happens to be one, and a rather devoted member at that.
FBC Jacksonville is the type of Falwellian church that often draws satire or anger. Its current organization, led by Mac Brunson, has apparently turned neofascist. .. http://www.newbbc.accura.net/FBCLetter1.pdf .. Brunson himself claims that God's Sacred Will is the reason for the bad economy and high gas prices. .. http://fbcjaxwatchdog.blogspot.com/2008/10/mac-jeremiah-brunson-god-is-cause-of.html .. According to Brunson, we should all be thankful to Jesus we don't make more money, because it would put us more into debt (I swear I'm not making this up). While telling parishioners the value of economic humility and - in a down economy, mind you - that they're "robbing God" by not paying back 10% of their income to his church, Bruson continues to live in a $970,000 house. .. http://apps.coj.net/pao_propertySearch/Basic/Detail.aspx?RE=1485480000 .. He is, to the South Park-inclined, Eric Cartman as a minister, 40 years later.
What does this have to do with Tebow? I'm not going to begrudge a man for his religious choice. I was raised in a conservative Christian Church and my intent isn't to call out "cannibals" or "kool-aid drinkers" or whatever other dribble the vitriolic atheist sect uses these days.
The problem isn't with Tim Tebow. It's with the media. [my bold]
Here's three names for you: Barack Obama, Reggie White, and Troy Smith.
Obama was called out by many, including many of those Sunday-goers in Jacksonville, for sitting in a church with Jeremiah Wright at the helm. While being leader of the free world and All-American quarterback have different standards, why does Tebow get a complete pass for his membership in a crazy church? [my bold]
Reggie White was, like Tebow, a devout Baptist. While being so genuine that he became a minister and wrote a book on faith, White was often looked at as a pariah in the media, especially after he was quoted as calling homosexuality a sin. Outspoken, sure, but there's no difference between the fervent nature of White's faith and Tebow's, and to glorify the one who nods while scoring the one talking is hypocritical at best.
And then there's Troy Smith. In 2006, Smith won the Heisman Trophy, capping a fantastic rags-to-riches story. The whole story was under-followed that year, save for maybe Pat Forde's excellent write-up on ESPN .. http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/columns/story?id=2689611 .. (and it's rare that I use "Pat Forde" and "excellent" in the same sentence).
Tim Tebow has gotten more positive coverage than all of these men, and for what? For being a humble, devout Christian with a pretty smile?
A simplistic mind would chalk this up to racism, that college football fans and the media decided to push the white hero and find faults with the prospective black ones. But that's too easy; we've had charismatic black heroes who've had positive images developed in the media that gloss over faults: Jackie Robinson and Hank Aaron, Magic Johnson and Jerry Rice.
What's happened, instead, is that modern college football reporting (and sports in general) has become so rife with hackneyed criticisms and microscopic evaluations, lame jokes and personal-life reporting, that we have, in essence, become hungry for a genuine hero.
In Tebow, the media found someone with childlike innocence in a sea of money and late-night partying. Desperate to have someone who can live up to the imaginary standards of old, they've collectively decided not to even ask questions.
They've wrecked so many positive illusions they'll now do anything to keep one that won't destroy itself.
Find a college football coach who hasn't been stained with harsh words or acts. It's damned near impossible. It's rare for a player to gain national prominence, and even rarer for one to do so with no baggage, real or imaginary. Adrian Peterson had a jailed father and 2-year-old illegitimate daughter. Matt Leinart, too, had a child under circumstances much of the nation disapproves. Joey Harrington had Phil Knight paying his bills. Carson Palmer underachieved for two years. Reggie Bush has an NCAA investigation. Troy Smith had a criminal record.
In Tebow they found a pure, hyped high school recruit who has delivered exactly what he was supposed to for three seasons. He also happens to a devout Christian who keeps his mouth shut off-the-field.
Translation? Football Jesus. Keep the myth alive. Everyone else has been "crucified" and we need it.
Must embrace a hero who doesn't destroy himself.
Kindly ignore the man behind the green curtain, the preacher who makes less sense than Jeremiah Wright in the church that borders on cult-like behavior.
Because in the end, image is everything, and if you pretend the blind happy nodding to the irrationality isn't there, it won't be, and meeting Tebow will still change your life, even if his Jesus hates Muslims and causes General Motors to go bankrupt.
Such is the power of the gilded pedestal, that we have to ignore things to keep someone up there. Enjoy it, Tim. Just don't ever change, or speak publicly on exactly what Lord and Savior you believe in.
You would crush the spirits of far too many admiring reporters.
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