Politics

Digging Nader's anti-charisma

By Robert von Stein Redick

Like it or not, there's something happenin' here: on Sunday afternoon, Ralph Nader drew a crowd of 12,000 to Boston's Fleet Center. Not satisfied with the day's work (or rich enough to fly), he braved weekend traffic on I-95 and drove to Portland, where another 1500 jammed the Portland High School gymnasium to hear him speak.

Not a bad showing for the man the national press has more-or-less unanimously condemned as dull. The morning after these vast rallies (which followed 10,000-strong rallies in Minneapolis, Seattle, and Portland, Oregon), USA Today's William Shapiro insisted the Green Party candidate was "the antithesis of charismatic" and "too cerebral to ever be a compelling orator." It's a curious conclusion for Shapiro, who was present to hear the roars and see the standing ovations in the Fleet Center. But it is not an unusual one. The media Goliaths passed judgment on Nader's star power long ago: a collective yawn met the February 21 announcement of his candidacy, when he vowed to fight against a government "of the Exxons, by the General Motors, and for the Du Ponts." By comparison, the coverage of an ex-Republican xenophobe nicknamed "Pitchfork" seems downright thorough. Somehow a consensus formed that Ralph just wasn't good entertainment.

True, Nader isn't a ham. You won't catch him working crowds with that little-boy's-birthday-party smile we're used to in our candidates. Nor was he born for the camera. He has the eyes of an expectant Labrador and a smile that seems to recall his last bite of lemon.

But those who dismiss his communication skills have it wrong. His speech in Portland Sunday night was interrupted by cheers from the first minutes to the last. Not howls, not hysteria: he was too substantial for that. He wanted the crowd to hear and to think. About the impossibility of full democracy in a country where the average multinational CEO earns $50,000 a day. About the $5000 slap on the wrist the government handed General Motors in 1949, after convicting the company of buying out and dismantling train lines in 13 booming US cities. About the tens of billions in corporate welfare today. The specifics went on for 90 minutes, and nobody blinked.

In fact, while he resists speaking in sound bites, Nader's wit never stops. "We've handed over the socialization of our children to corporations," he told the crowd -- corporations "that decree that before you're 10, you'll be a spectator. You'll be overweight from the corporate junk food you eat while watching corporate entertainment 30 hours a week." Television wasn't just an addiction, he went on. It had become a kind of "electronic child molestation," carried out while parents were stuck commuting to low-wage jobs without benefits.

The 1500 who listened Sunday night didn't get much in the way of podium-pounding theatrics for their $10. There were no hollow-chested cries of Let's change the tone! or I want to fight for you! Instead, they left knowing a lot more about the driving passions that have sustained Nader throughout his 35 years of public service. As I filed out, a young person spoke in the crowd nearby: "I don't give a damn about November. This guy is already my president."

One has to wonder what kind of excitement his candidacy might generate if Nader had the benefit of a multi-million dollar marketing apparatus like those of the anointed contenders. Or just a spot at the debates. Or, for that matter, a little charisma.