By Alexandra DeSanctis
Thursday, August 29, 2019
Yesterday evening, New York senator Kirsten Gillibrand
ended her presidential bid after nine months of futile campaigning, failing
ever to crest 3 percent in major polls. Her decision to bow out was precipitated
by her failure to qualify for the third Democratic debate, slated for September
12. “Without it, I just didn’t see our path,” she said yesterday.
The senator has a point. From the beginning, her upstart
campaign was characterized by an enormous amount of virtue-mongering, insisting
not only that her progressive bona fides made her superior to you, but that
only she could help you comprehend exactly how backwards you are. In the last
debate, for instance, she promised to traverse the suburbs explaining
“institutional racism” and white privilege to white women.
It was an interesting tactic from a candidate attempting
to distinguish herself as a female candidate running for women, and it’s easy
to see why the effort failed to gain much traction. The major policy
centerpiece of her campaign was called “Fighting for women and families” and
focused exclusively on issues like unlimited abortion rights, universal paid
family leave, public education, and sexual harassment. Perhaps the most news
attention she got all campaign came when she compared being pro-life to being
racist. Light on substance, she needed a forum to peddle her platitudes, and
without the debate stage, she had little hope of convincing Democrats to listen
to her at all.
The news that she had terminated her campaign came just a
few days after a former Gillibrand staffer told the New York Post, “I
don’t know that anyone even wants to see her on the debate stage. Everyone I
have talked to finds her performative and obnoxious.”
(Emphasis added.)
The staffer noted, too, that the senator “comes across as
an opportunist.” It’s a common complaint, and one I’ve made myself. When she
ran for the Senate in 2010, for instance, Gillibrand achieved an A rating from
the National Rifle Association. Immediately after she won the election, she
reversed her stance on the Second Amendment to conform to her party’s position,
and her NRA rating was downgraded to an F.
Almost unbelievably, Gillibrand managed to turn herself
into a champion of the Me Too movement, even to the point of losing the support
of Democratic donors upset that she pushed former Minnesota senator Al Franken
to resign last January after he was credibly accused of sexual misconduct.
In reality though, Gillibrand waited nearly three weeks
after the initial allegation surfaced to pressure Franken to step down, clearly
wanting to see which way the political winds were blowing. Even as half a dozen
additional accusations against Franken came to light, Gillibrand told reporters,
“It’s his decision” when asked whether he should resign.
It wasn’t until 20 days after the first claim had
surfaced that she leapt out ahead of her colleagues to call for Franken’s
resignation. Her statement was followed, within minutes, by similar calls from
other Democratic senators. She’d like us to believe she was a hero demanding
accountability from Day One; she was really just the first lemming to jump off
the cliff.
In a 2018 interview on The View, Gillibrand
hand-waved away her long-time friendship with Bill and Hillary Clinton, dodging
a question about Hillary’s mismanagement of sexual harassment within her
presidential campaign. She excused her own failure to condemn Bill’s sexual
misconduct with this mealy-mouthed line: “I think this moment of time we’re in
is very different. I don’t think we had the same conversation back then, the
same lens.”
“Do you regret campaigning with him, though?” Meghan
McCain pressed.
“It’s not about any one president, and it’s not about any
one industry,” Gillibrand replied. “And if we reduce it to that, we are missing
the opportunity to allow women to be heard, to allow women to have
accountability and transparency, and to allow women to have justice.”
Anyone who watched that interview — or Gillibrand’s
uncomfortable campaign launch on Steven Colbert’s show — couldn’t be terribly
surprised to see her presidential run begin with a whimper and end with a
fizzle. It’s only a pity it took Gillibrand herself so long to figure it out.
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