Return Of The Chickenhawks

What a joy to see Ron Paul take down Newt “Chickenhawk” Gingrich in front of millions of Americans. Slogging through fifteen Republican presidential debates was totally worth it just to witness this defining moment. Dianne Sawyer, who sounded like she was on Quaaludes, raised her eyebrows quizzically as she asked him if he stood by his previous characterization of Newt as a “chickenhawk.” Her tone implied she thought this a little harsh. Paul took this opening and ran with it:

“I think people who don't serve when they could and they get three or four or even five deferments – they have no right to send our kids off to war … I'm trying to stop the wars, but at least, you know, I went when they called me up.”

Ouch! Having drawn the first blood of this presidential gladiatorial contest, the good Doctor moved in for the kill:

“We have hundreds of thousands coming back from these wars that were undeclared, they were unnecessary, they haven’t been won, they’re unwinnable, and we have hundreds of thousands looking for care. And we have an epidemic of suicide coming back. And so many have – I mean, if you add up all the contractors and all the wars going on, Afghanistan and in Iraq, we’ve lost 8,500 Americans, and severe injuries, over 40,000. And these are undeclared wars.”

Gingrich’s response was worse than if he had said nothing at all:

“The fact is, I never asked for deferment. I was married with a child. It was never a question. My father was, in fact, serving in Vietnam in the Mekong Delta at the time he’s referring to. I think I have a pretty good idea of what it’s like as a family to worry about your father getting killed. And I personally resent the kind of comments and aspersions he routinely makes without accurate information and then just slurs people with.”

The trap, so carefully set, was sprung: “I need one quick follow-up, said Paul with a gleam in his eye:

“When I was drafted, I was married and had two kids – and I went.”

The applause was the loudest of the evening. Newt’s puffed up persona seemed to visibly shrink as he stood there on the stage, reduced to squealing like a stuck pig:

“ I wasn’t eligible for the draft! I wasn’t eligible for the draft!”

This encounter dramatizes more than just the smarminess of the Newtster: it gives voice to a populist anger directed at our warmongering elites, one little-discussed aspect of widespread resentment over the growing class divisions in American society.