White House Watch: Physician, heal thyself

If Dean were a medical condition, instead of a medical doctor, he would be heartburn.

If Dean were an animal, he would be a mule.

If Dean were a food, he'd be a prickly pear.

But Dean is a very bright, very energetic, very ambitious and very committed human being, one who makes mistakes, changes his mind -- and speaks his mind. To the surprise of just about everyone but himself, the former governor of Vermont (49th smallest state by population) is still running at or near the front of the pack of Democratic presidential candidates.

His offhand comment to an Iowa reporter -- that he intends to be the candidate who gets the votes of "guys with Confederate flags in their pickup trucks" -- was not racist (the sharp-tongued New Yorker, the Rev. Al Sharpton, notwithstanding). Nor did it demean the entire South, despite the immediate outrage of Sen. John Edwards, D-N.C. But it was typical Dean -- too raw, too unguarded, too honest and too boastful.

Dean relishes intellectual jousting and confrontation. Others may be uncomfortable sparring on the campaign trail, but not Dean. Dean also likes open-door analysis of behind-the-scenes political machinations. As a governor of a small state for 11 years, he loved exchanging inside-baseball stories of how politics really works.

When soccer moms were hotly sought-after voters, he was fascinated by how that phenomenon came about. And now that it's NASCAR dads who dominate, he's determined to be at the head of the pack pursuing them around the track.

Dean is very wary of being perceived as a "liberal." So he's for guns, but not assault weapons. He's against the war in Iraq, but wary of gay marriages. He's a balanced-budget fiscal conservative, but a zealot in pursuit of health care for every child. He's been branded a political outsider, a maverick, an iconoclast on the campaign trail, an underdog. He's all those things.

Dean's comment about the Confederate flag was blown out of proportion and thus, predictably, enraged a lot of Southerners who thought he was dissing them. He says he was trying to start a national dialogue about statistics that show a black person with no drug record has a harder time getting a job than a white person with a drug record. "I got off to a pretty clumsy start," he finally had to admit.

The real problem Dean's comment caused him is that he stepped on his message and made the buzz around him so noisy that a lot of people, such as some offended Southerners, never will hear that message, making his uphill battle even more formidable.

The other problem for Dean is that he's upset Democratic heavy-hitters have to be persuaded that he has a serious chance of defeating President Bush next November if he gets the Democratic nomination.

So far, many don't think Dean could give Bush a serious challenge. They worry that the Bush campaign, with $200 million to spend in trying to eviscerate an opponent, would make mincemeat of Dean's antiwar views and lack of military experience. And Dean's ham-handedness in handling such sensitive topics as race and regional stereotypes didn't help.

But then, they didn't think Jimmy Carter or Bill Clinton had much of a chance either.

The media first lionized Dean as a newsworthy fun story and a come-from-behind upstart, and then tried to knock him down a peg or two. The press will be quick to chuck him aside if he makes a habit of silly political bloopers or doesn't seem substantive enough. From now on, the race for the White House is serious political business. An Iowa victory by Rep. Richard Gephardt, D-Mo., could quickly suck the momentum away from Dean.

Dean has shown that he is smarter, cagier and has more stamina -- physical and mental -- than many politicos thought. He has worked too hard to become a serious contender for the nomination not to reassess how he's doing and make course corrections.

So his decision that it might be more worthwhile to sidestep campaign finance law restrictions and just say no to federal matching funds on the assumption he can raise more money is telling. He once pledged fealty to campaign finance restrictions. Now he's asking supporters to advise him on what he should do -- not exactly the image of wisdom, steadfastness, quiet confidence and competence the nation wants.

The crowded campaign trail is a lonely and unforgiving place, littered with the political carcasses of those who tripped on their own shoelaces, put on silly hats, cried, misspoke and were face down before they knew what happened.

The sometimes-overbearing doctor needs to take a couple of aspirin, sleep off his urge to be flip and, in the morning, resolve to listen to the voters as well as talk to them.

Ann McFeatters is Washington bureau chief of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette and The Toledo Blade. E-mail amcfeatters@nationalpress.com.