The Peasant Army's Cocktail Party

by David Corn

How many troops does he command? There's no clear answer. Perhaps not enough for to do modern-day political warfare. An e-mail network managed for him numbered no more than 2000 or so, according to a former Buchanan aide. And his loyal following did not help him much in Iowa, where he placed toward the rear of the GOP pack in the Ames straw poll, or in New Hampshire, where polls showed him mired in single-digit land.

But two weeks ago, Buchanan did hold an event in Washington that revealed who his true friends (well-known and unknown) are. At Tony Morton's steakhouse -- three blocks from the White House -- scores of Patniks assembled to celebrate the publication of his new foreign policy book, the now-infamous tract that argues that Western Europe and the United States should have, more or less, left Hitler alone in the pre-Pearl Harbor years, in the hope he would have turned his war machine against the Bolsheviks in Russia. At the party, there was much guffawing over the hyped-up media outrage provoked by the book. Buchanan thanked William Safire, Alan Dershowitz, and Chris Matthews for the attacks that pushed the book on to the bestsellers list.

He clearly relished the tussle, noting triumphantly that two months ago he was merely a back-of-the-packer in the Republican contest who had no idea how he was going to promote his latest book. Now, beaming in the crossfire of television lights, Buchanan boasted that he was running first in the polls in the Reform Party and that he was receiving "more attention than anytime in my life." He even proudly informed the crowd that when he recently entered a chauffeured car to head toward yet another media appearance, the driver looked at him and exclaimed, "I know you. I know you. You're the guy who wrote the Hitler book!" And Buchanan belly-laughed when Robert Shogan of the Los Angeles Times jokingly cried out "Sieg Heil" at the end of Buchanan's remarks.

Buchanan was basking before a group mostly of ardent believers. While talking with his chief fundraiser -- who was asserting that anyone who wants to break the same-old/same-old two party model should support a Buchanan bid for the Reform Party presidential nomination -- I expressed my sympathy for the fundraiser's smash-the-status-quo sentiments but noted that I do not agree with his boss on a host of issues. "Such as?!" his wife angrily interrupted. All the social issues, I replied: gay rights, school prayer, abortion. "Have you ever seen an aborted 23-week-old fetus?" she shot back. I politely said that I had seen all the photos, had gazed at my infant daughter in utero courtesy of sonogram technology, and that this was clearly not an argument in which either one of us would persuade the other. But she had already locked and loaded: "If you haven't seen a 23-week-old fetus in person, then you don't know what you are talking about. I'm tired of hearing about the Holocaust, when there is a genocide of infants going on right now." As for gay rights, she asked how I would feel once the gene determining a predisposition toward homosexuality was discovered and people began aborting fetuses possessing that genetic ingredient. "Then you'll see all those gay rights guys backing Pat on abortion," she declared.

Tell me how what you really think, I said to her, before coming up with an excuse to disengage and move on. (Since her fundraiser-husband is a former banker for Chase Manhattan, it is hard to see how he qualifies for a spot in a "peasant army.") No sooner had I escaped the anti-abortion rant a sixty-something man I did not know read my name tag and started accusing me of being prejudiced against Christians. What are you talking about? I asked. He said that years ago I had written "that article" about Oliver North in which I had assaulted North for being a Christian. I had no idea to what he was referring and replied that I had written several pieces on North, including a profile when he unsuccessfully pursued a U.S. Senate seat in 1994. My complaint with North, I said, was that he was a convicted Iran-contra felon, a lying religious right ringleader, a Constitution-shredder who had managed a secret (and thus illegal) war in Central America during which he supported a band of rebels that committed torture and other human rights abuses. That's all. "You used the word 'Christian' as code," he shouted at me. Foolishly, I tried to reason with him and asserted that I have nothing against Christians; I married one. "Don't give me that," he went on. "You're against Christians."

I left him at that point and chatted for a few minutes with Bay Buchanan, Pat's sister and altar-ego. The former cohost of Equal Time was all geared up for Buchanan's defection from the Republican Party. It was obviously a done deal, and she gleefully reported she would be in charge of his Reform Party presidential campaign. She displayed not a whiff of reluctance or regret about saying bye-bye to the Grand Old Party and indicated that she and her brother and the Brigades -- whomever they are -- were going to reinvent American politics.

Alone with Wanniski, I inquired why he was not in Forbes' corner. After all supply-siders and flat-taxers, more or less, inhabit the same turf in the conservative cosmos. His answer was not one I could have anticipated. He told me his main beef with Forbes is that Forbes ignored Wanniski's 1996 advice to put John Sears, Ronald Reagan's 1980 campaign manager, in charge of his own effort and instead placed his campaign in the hands of "white supremacists." I swear that is what he said. This former guru of Reaganomics referred to the Forbes crew as if they are no different than David Duke. Wanniski then added that most white people are benign white supremacists. But Wanniski, Caucasian himself, appeared to think Forbes handlers (now and in 1996) are more prejudiced than your average whitey. I failed to obtain an adequate explanation of why he believes this. But I wouldn't mind seeing the headline: "Buchanan Adviser Calls Forbes Campaign Racist." There's man bites dog.

Buchanan is aiming to put together the weirdest political coalition in modern history. And a chief architect of this crazy-quilt, Pat Choate, was present at the shindig, too. Choate, a pro-labor, anti-corporatist policy wonk of a progressive bent who ran for vice president with Ross Perot in 1996, has been Buchanan's leading advocate within the Reform Party. The two are in sync in opposing corporate-friendly trade pacts like NAFTA. But old friends of Choate who are liberal-minded have said that they do not understand his bonding with Buchanan. As waiters served wonderful miniature steak sandwiches, I asked Choate how he could have saddled up with a fellow who has uttered hateful and denigrating remarks about minorities, AIDS sufferers, and women. Choate tried to make sense of it for me. He said he is pro-choice and a supporter of gay rights -- two stands which would cause Buchanan the fundamentalist Christian to deem Choate, quite literally, a heathen bound for the fiery pits of hell -- but that he was happy to work with both Buchanan and Fulani. Why? Because each are outsiders who agree on the pressing need for "political reform." Only if various ideologues join together, Choate asserts, will there be a chance to threaten corporate-dominated politics-as-usual. Given that the Republican-controlled Senate that very day was once again torpedoing the most modest of campaign finance reform measures, it was hard to argue with Choate on this point. But, I suggested to Choate, putting Buchanan in charge was too high a price to pay for discomfiting the Washington establishment. "We'll have to keep talking," Choate said with the smile of one who believes he has found the answer.

Morbid curiosity had brought me to the Buchanan event. After the shitstorm provoked by his book, I had wondered if there might be a funereal atmosphere at the party? No way -- not when the book is a bestseller. (Notoriety uber alles, I suppose.) The reception turned out to be an upbeat mix of right-wing kooks ripe for the Buchanan's latest cause (as well as sane and thoughtful conservatives who believe politics should be fueled by ideas, not politics); sincere but diehard abortion opponents; angry religious rightists who believe Christians are persecuted in this country; a few of his most loyal media pals (John McLaughlin and Brit Hume were there); and one well-intentioned policy populist yearning for a way to sock official Washington in the eye.

All in all, probably an accurate reflection of Buchanan's world. He is a fierce jingoist who knows how to speak in code to anti-one-worlders who despise the UN and keep a paranoid watch for the black helicopters. He is a talented wordsmith and good-humored pundit who can hobnob smoothly with fellow media citizens at a upscale steakhouse. He is a divisive, wrathful fundamentalist embraced by zealots of the anti-abortion crusade. He is an opportunistic provider of hope to the economic nationalists of the Reform Party who are looking to make their party a player. That's a lot to cram into one third-party presidential candidate. And it raises the question: which one of these Buchanans will be leading the charge of whatever army follows?