And then there was one.

One presumptive Democratic nominee, one inexorable Democratic movement, one dream of HopeChangeUnity, one chilling will.i.am video and, as it often seems, one Democratic Barack Obama-doubter under the age of 35.

Let me be straight: I’m far from despondent about Obama’s looming victory. I really like this guy. After all, what honest Hillary Clinton supporter couldn’t? I care about policy, and the Democratic candidates are fraternal twins on policy points: showering the uninsured with health care, creating avenues for legalizing illegal immigrants, and methodically pulling out of Iraq while expanding regional diplomacy. I could go on, and perhaps it would be a useful reminder for some Obama supporters that the woman they claim to despise is as close to an ideological doppelganger as Obama could find in Washington.

I’ve never heard so many haters in a movement that’s supposedly about reconciliatory unity. Take some Obama folks I met in New York City, who told me they’d rather vote for John McCain than Hillary Clinton. Judging by the 800,000-strong “Anyone but Hillary” Facebook group, I don’t think they’re alone.

Such charlatans clearly have no interest in universal health care, or Iraq’s future, or regional diplomacy, or egregious tax credits. They care about the voice. They lust for homeopathic orations that substantively offer little more than song lyrics.

Shake off those luscious pearls of eloquence, and you’ll see some questions. Do we really think we can “push back” a two-billion-dollar lobbying industry (much of which represents Democratic interests, by the way)? Do we think rich words will make Republicans roll over on health care like tickled puppies, or that hawkish Republicans are quivering to be lullabied into diplomacy? It bears repeating: Supply-siders are supply-siders; homophobes are homophobic; neoconservatives are neoconservative. They all have their reasons, and it’s not because they haven’t been properly instructed by true liberal eloquence.

Politics is war. Anybody who has taken a world history class knows that bipartisan unity breaks out in government about as often as tap-dancing. So I’m wary of otherwise brilliant friends who claim that Obama will not only lead political changes, but also change politics. That’s not a vision. That’s a delusion inspired by eloquence too beautiful to rationalize. I’ve heard it said, “Vote with your head, not your stomach.” Do we really think our goosebumps are any wiser than our guts?

People say they cannot trust Hillary Clinton. I believe them, even if I don’t believe their reasons. When I ask Democratic Hillary-haters to explain themselves, I often see a face that looks like it’s trying to untie a sailor’s knot with its eyes. I don’t want to parody their reasons, but I’ll offer my own: I trust Hillary because, as strange as it might sound, she promises to be what she is. She’s a politician; she’s willing to compromise; she’s moderate about being a liberal.

Those facts are wielded as accusations against her, but they’re undeniable strengths in a president. No, she doesn’t inspire my heart with yearbook-worthy quotes. And, thank goodness, that means my head can think with minimal gastric interference. And my head says: If you really want to change the world, go with the candidate who isn’t afraid to use the word “fight.”

I’ll vote for Obama with fervor and pride if he wins the nomination, because unlike those folks in New York City, I believe in the issues I say I believe in. But no words will convince me that some untapped unity exists beneath the surface of American politics. Maybe Obama can even usher in a liberal utopia as he transforms the politics that have shackled our government. That’s a future to hope for, but it’s not a change to believe in.

It’s a loaded question. After all, I personally care a great deal, but I can’t care vicariously for 20 million people. And why should I be my generation’s keeper? I don’t ask my dad why his generation insists on screwing up the U.S. government, the mortgage market, the energy industry and the environment. I don’t ask my grandmother why AARP members clutch to a calcified Social Security policy that shifts the burden of Social Security taxes onto their grandkids. Maybe I should respond, “Dearest family, my generation will start caring about this country when your generations are ready to pass down a country worth caring about.”

But that’s a pretty obnoxious answer for the dinner table, and I don’t want any cranberry sauce hurled at me. What the folks are really asking isn’t “why don’t you care” but rather “why don’t we see you caring?” Our generation doesn’t take to the streets as readily as the 1960s protesters. We don’t march under wide banners down Main Street as our professors did (and still do).

One month ago, The New York Times’ Thomas Friedman called us Generation Q, the quiet generation. Friedman isn’t angry, just disappointed that college kids today don’t flock to the streets like the little songbirds of liberalism we should be. After all, he says, that’s what twentysomethings are for—to represent the radical, politically enraged id of our national identity. “Martin Luther King Jr. and Bobby Kennedy didn’t change the world by asking people to join their Facebook crusades or to download their platforms,” Friedman wrote. “Activism can only be uploaded the old-fashioned way — by young voters speaking truth to power.”

But Friedman got it backward. King and Kennedy advanced civil rights and social welfare precisely because they weren’t young voters. They were established political figures who changed the world by recognizing that radicalism isn’t just a wild oat to sow in youth. They understood that the nation cannot pass on the responsibility to be radical to young people. It was political power that gave King and Kennedy a bullhorn to speak truth to the people, and it was leverage that turned their radicalism into a reality.

Protests, on the other hand, are all bullhorn and no leverage. To be sure, some sit-ins and street demonstrations in the early ’60s nudged the country toward racial equality, but the vast majority either failed to effect change or proved counterproductive. In 1968, the violent protests outside the Democratic National Convention in Chicago made the Democratic Party’s membership look like a hoard of savages. Richard Nixon channeled the nation’s fear that a streak of wild radicalism was sweeping the country, and he crushed the Democrats in 1968 on a theme aimed at the DNC riots: “Law and Order.”

Many protests aren’t convincing because they embellish their message. Take a look at the placards from the anti-war protests this January in Washington: “Impeach Bush!” and “Drive out the Bush Regime!” As if asking for the White House to evacuate in the middle of January 2007 wasn’t dumb enough (or at least one year early) the organizers had Jane Fonda–infamously pictured in Vietnam on the enemy’s anti-aircraft gun—speak to the marchers. Marching against war in D.C. with Jane Fonda is like marching against gay rights in San Francisco with Sen. Larry Craig. You might as well hold up a banner saying, “We do not expect the other side to take us seriously, whatsoever!”

Well, I do want to be taken seriously. That’s why I write letters to the editor of local newspapers and political columns for campus publications. If I marched in Chicago against the war, my placard would probably say something like, “1-2-3-4: I would love to end this war; 5-6-7-8: But we can’t just evacuate.” I know it sucks, and it’s not radical, and it lacks rhythm, but it’s what I believe.

Growing up in the 1990s and coming of age in the post-Sept. 11 world, I’ve grown up in a time of both irrational exuberance and rational inexuberance. An upbringing like that gives you thick skin. I’ve seen one president lie outright about his private life and another flub the facts with far more important issues. I don’t trust our leaders or what I’m told is “intelligence,” and I watch The Daily Show because it’s a fake news show with mostly real information, and not the other way around. I am a part of a generation of cautious optimism, and cautiously optimistic people don’t always feel compelled to shout rhyming saws in downtown Chicago.

I don’t think I’m alone in my quiet protest. Our generation’s volume is indeed softer, because we don’t stomp around public spaces. But it’s louder, too, because in cyberspace we have found a global public square. I’m not convinced that the Internet is the most effective means of producing change, but it is the most efficient and universal means of communication. It’s been central to online campaigns like Greenpeace and Darfur relief efforts. And it’s better than stopping traffic in New York City for two hours and pissing off a million commuters you supposedly hope to persuade.

My generation is not the Protest Generation. Unfortunately for my parents and Thomas Friedman, neither is theirs. Forty years ago, a group of sincere, idealistic young Americans took to the streets to advocate for, among other things, better health care and an end to senseless war. Today, that generation is ruling the country from corner offices and Washington buildings. But the rest of the nation still clamors for better health care and an end to senseless war. If you ask me, the country’s problem isn’t that the twentysomethings aren’t asking the hard questions. The problem is that the men and women in the corner offices don’t remember they ever did.

Sure, the Massachusetts governor is running fourth in most national polls, behind former New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani, former Sen. Fred Thompson, and Sen. John McCain. But he’s got history on his side. Romney has surged in South Carolina polls and now leads the first three state primaries, including Iowa and New Hampshire. In the last thirty years, no Republican has won the first three primaries and lost the presidential nomination. (Although plenty of voters think Romney is no Republican.)

If you’ve seen Romney in a debate, you know he’s got the coiffure of a day-time soap star, the smoothness of a British secret agent, and the integrity of a Decepticon. As a millionaire investment guru, Romney has made a career living on the margin. On the campaign trail, critics skewer him for walking a similar tightrope on issues such as gay rights and immigration. But we knew you wanted to hear from the source, so North By Northwestern sought the Mormon from Massachusetts, himself. Here is the interview, rigged for your pleasure.

NBN: Gov. Romney, thank you for agreeing to speak with North By Northwestern.

Romney: It’s good to be here. I’m honored you chose me out of all the Republican candidates.

NBN: Actually, we called Fred Thompson first, but his secretary said he couldn’t fit us in between Law and Order and his afternoon nap.

Romney: You know, Fred Thompson’s campaign is just like an episode of Law and Order: He can’t go more than 15 minutes without taking a break.

NBN: Oh Mitt, what a perfectly spontaneous quip!

Romney: I’ve prepared more impromptu jokes, if you want to hear them.

NBN: How about Giuliani.

Romney: Let me think for a second. This is completely unplanned. Totally off the top of my head. And speaking of head tops, Rudy Giuliani is just like his lies: dumb, desperate and bald!

NBN: I’d love to do this all day, but we have to get to the policy questions. Gov. Romney, in a debate with Sen. Ted Kennedy in 1994, you said abortions should be “safe and legal.” Now you’re against abortions altogether. What happened?

Romney: Look, I took a pro-choice stance in 1994, but I was never pro-choice. Now I’m taking a pro-life stance, which is truer to my true stance.

NBN: So you’ve always been pro-life, but your position can be stretched to pro-choice?

Romney: It’s a wide stance.

NBN: Sen. Craig advised you well. Speaking of gay rights, in 1994 you wrote a letter to the Log Cabin Republicans that said, “We must make equality for gays and lesbians a mainstream concern.” Now you’re against civil unions. Sounds like you’re going both ways on the issue.

Romney: Again, no inconsistency. As you point out, I advocated for gay rights to swim in the mainstream of American political debate. And now that gay rights are floating in the stream, like the slippery fishies that they are, I feel it’s my duty to spear, gut and devour them entirely. I’m an avid hunter, you know.

NBN: But Gov. Romney, what about health care? You passed a successful universal state system in Massachusetts with increased state spending. Now it seems you are running from that record.

Romney: My Massachusetts record speaks for itself.

NBN: But what if it says things voters don’t like?

Romney: Then I’ll tell the voters they aren’t trying hard enough. I believe in public-private partnerships for health care and message control. My public record will represent itself, until I decide to privatize the point it’s making.

NBN: There’s also this comment you made about illegal immigration. You said Hillary Clinton and Rudy Giuliani were in a “sanctuary state of mind” when it comes to protecting the rights of illegal immigrants. Why didn’t you crack down on similar “sanctuary cities” in Massachusetts?

Romney: You know, over the course of this campaign, I’ve met hundreds of men and women who’ve lost jobs because of illegal immigrants. We have to stop coddling illegals and start speaking their language.

NBN: Spanish?

Romney: No. Force. Nothing says “Stay out!” in the language of force like an impenetrable border wall with machine gun turrets and electronic surveillance. It’s all a part of my platform. Strong borders, to go along with our strong military, strong economy and strong families.

NBN: Strong. I noticed you love to use that word. Your online platform looks like a creatine ad.

Romney: America has lost faith in itself. We need a confidence steroid. As a Mormon, I personally can’t abuse such substances, so the only alternative is to inject myself—into the White House. You see? I am the natural supplement America needs to flex its military and economic strength. There’s strong. And then there’s Romney Strong.

NBN: I wonder sometimes if you’re trying to overcompensate for your flip-flopping with this “strong” rhetoric. For example, even though Guantanamo Bay attracts fewer admirers than Dick Cheney’s smile, you said we need more Guantanamos. How many more?

Romney: Twelve.

NBN: Where would we put all these new facilities?

Romney: It depends. I’m not polling so well in Florida right now. Maybe when I’m president I’ll turn the Tower of Terror in Disney World into the Tower of Terror-Prevention. (Laughs) Oh, look at your face, I’m only kidding. It would make much more sense to just clear out a few miles in the Everglades.

NBN: Speaking of environmental sustainability…

Romney: I don’t want to talk about the environment. I want to talk about Hillary Clinton. Have you seen the Democratic debates? Seven guys with a girl in the middle. You know what I call that?

NBN: Every Mormon girl’s secret fantasy?

Romney: No, a really lame party. If I wanted to hear eight people in agreement fighting with each other, I’d end the campaign and spend more time with my family! Am I right?

NBN: I think we finally found something to agree on. Thank you, Governor. And Happy Thanksgiving.

So here is your one-stop explanation of Middle Eastern geopolitics. All politics is local, and the politics of the Middle East is even more local than you might expect. Skip your Middle East history lecture and take a closer look at The Keg, on Sherman and Grove. Maybe it’s the liquid resources, but Middle Eastern politics bares a striking resemblance to bar politics, with a few exceptions: angry dancers lob missiles instead of punches; the taps lead to oil instead of alcohol; and the carbombs are real.

Boys and girls: Welcome to The Powder Keg.

Let’s begin with Iraq, since it’s the hub around which our Middle East policy whirls. Iraq is the girl you saw from afar and thought, “This is so easy, I’d be crazy not to do it.” You throw a bunch of drinks at her, such as Fire and Ice, B52s and more than a few carbombs—although she had a few before you arrived. But before you can even try out your new pick up line (“So I hear you like bath parties?”), she’s toppled.

Now you’re in for the close-up, and you realize this couldn’t have been a worse idea. Not only does this girl have more domestic issues than a Democratic Candidate Forum, but also after repeated trips to the restroom to check on her, you can hear your money being flushed away. You once had historic visions for this hook-up, but you’ll settle for any kind of exit to keep your dignity. It’s probably your fault for messing her up so bad, but you go ahead and blame it on her weak constitution, anyway.

You’ve also probably heard about Iran, Iraq’s long-time adversary who is allegedly building nuclear technology and sending troops into Iraq to stir up civil war. We all know Iran — he’s that twit hitting on the girl you’ve already targeted. While Iraq’s teetering around the bar, Iran is still supplying bottomless drinks with a fat wallet. He doesn’t outright declare his intentions to make this a war over a girl, but since he and Iraq share a long history, he knows how to manipulate her. In fact, you and Iran have been enemies for a long time.* The bottom line is that he hates you, and you still think he’s a coy meany.

Pakistan is a military dictatorship that denies civil liberties, houses terrorists, bleeds nuclear secrets and cancels elections. Why are you friends, again? Because Pakistan is the bartender of the Powder Keg. Of course he’s a jerk — you’d be testy too if you had his job — but he’s a jerk you need. With one hand on the Jagermeister machine and another on the beer tap, he’ll provide the assistance you need, but at a price. He overcharges and makes his own bar rules, but what else are you going to do — reach across the counter and take things into your own hands? You need him, so you don’t provoke him. Oh, and if he sees you in cashmere, he’ll kick your ass.

Turkey is an odd bird—a secular constitutional republic bordering Iraq with a history of good relations with the United States. That means Turkey is Iraq’s less attractive, but more level-headed, roommate. Since you’re old friends, you initially wanted to get to Iraq through Turkey. But to your surprise, she said no (don’t good roommates allow this kind of thing?). Since then, you’ve strained your relationship with a series of petty and not-so-petty fights with Turkey. She’s mad you tried to use her to get to Iraq; she’s pissed at Iraq for not respecting her private space; and she’s going through some inner turmoil.

And there’s Israel, your precocious freshman brother. You bought him a fake ID so he could go to bars with you, but the regulars don’t think he belongs. Sometimes, Israel does things that really piss you off, and you wonder if bar life would be easier without him. But you stand up for him, because you come from the same family and share similar values. You have to admit that he’s pretty advanced for his age. But he’s got an uncanny ability to piss off every person he meets at the bar. Most of them outwardly hate him. Others pretend they don’t recognize him.

Finally, you can’t talk about The Powder Keg without talking about Saudi Arabia. Like Pakistan, Saudi Arabia is our friend by necessity; not by choice. Despite housing the world’s most dangerous terrorist cells, the Saudis are the gatekeepers of the oil reserves we need. In short, they are the bouncers of the Keg. You tell people that you’re friends with the bouncer, but let’s be honest, you don’t want to know what he does in his personal time. He’s a jackass most of the time, he’s easily bought off, and lately he’s been letting in some truly shady individuals. But the bars have the precious liquid you need, and what else are you going to do? Supply your own? Don’t be ridiculous. With nothing but Busch in the fridge back home, we will rely on The Powder Keg for a long time.

*You once played an awful trick on Iran when you convinced your friend to date him just so she could pilfer alcohol from his room and bring it back to yours. He returned the favor by stealing your M Bass guitar and keeping it hostage for a few weeks, which blew up your Sha Na Na cover band. I could go on, but the history of drama is pretty complex.

Answer: This nationally famous presidential candidate hailing from New York planned to enter the second stage of a celebrated political career by announcing a U.S. Senate run in 2000. This figure was famous for wearing strangely colored dresses; hailed for a progressive stance on gay rights; noted for being outspoken on liberal issues like abortion and gun control; firm on issues of decency in the public square; and regarded as a presidential favorite.

Confused? We’ll try another one.

Answer: Hailed as one of the nation’s staunchest advocates for security in the Sept. 12 world, this Republican has established himself as the torchbearer of the Bush administration’s muscular global leadership and tough stance on terror. In a party dominated by religion and moral concerns, he is the presumptive front-runner, leading nationally and in key primary states like Florida and California.

For either clue, if you said “Who is Rudy Giuliani?” then you’re right. You’re also not the only person who’s asking — it’s a very good question. You could make an accurate description of Rudy Giuliani sound like the Wikipedia bio of Hillary Clinton. Or you could make him sound like George Bush III. So which Rudy is running?

On some issues, Giuliani hasn’t changed his tune since he left New York City in 2001. As mayor, he was never afraid to take the ax to taxes — 23 times during his tenure. On issues like education, he has espoused a free-market solution, trumpeted voucher programs and slammed unions and special interests. He continues to place free-market principles at the front of his foreign and domestic policy.

But on other issues, it’s hard to know where Giuliani would place himself. As mayor, he once said of illegal immigrants: “If you come here, and you work hard, and you happen to be in an undocumented status, you’re one of the people who we want in this city.” But on the campaign trail, he has shifted his talking points toward tough penalties and beefy border security. Gun control was a hallmark of Giuliani’s impressive anti-crime record in New York. On the campaign trail, that record only reminds gun-rights activists that Giuliani’s faith in the Second Amendment is less than absolute.

So far he has managed to whitewash his socially liberal past by emphasizing a foreign policy vision that could make George W. Bush look like a little schoolgirl. The embodiment of Sept. 11, Giuliani has called for raising more than 40,000 new soldiers for the Army; expanding the missile defense system; and building “constellations of satellites” to make America’s surveillance system ubiquitous. Giuliani’s strange foreign policy — articulated with vague muscularity in this Foreign Affairs statement — first presupposes that, in a post-Sept. 11 world, “our old assumptions about conflict between nation-states fell away.” But then, his plan to win the new war — Let’s flood their markets with Pepsi! Let’s distort all the lessons from the Vietnam War! Let’s build an impenetrable missile bubble! — sounds like the dregs of Cold War strategy.

Running as the Sept. 11 candidate only works when voters are in the Sept. 11 mindset. Evangelical voters, for instance, might be deaf and dumb, but they aren’t blind. It was only a matter of time before the Christian bloc band together to protest an election where the two most serious candidates are the Mormon of Mammon and the Mayor of Manlove. Now a group of Christian voters is calling on a third-party candidate to represent the conservative, Christian, pro-life agenda, a schism that would be apocalyptic for the party.

With so many contradictory stances on social issues, Giuliani’s best solution is to adopt a libertarian attitude toward social morality. I find it a strange, yet welcome, evolution: By refusing to talk about his own religion, he relegates faith to its proper place in politics. It’s about time Jesus’ millennial disciples follow His advice to render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s, and leave the churchy stuff in church.

Smart money is on Giuliani to pull off an upset worthy of his namesake. Voters like him for the same reason they liked George W.: They get a good gut feelin’ about him. Here, again, Giuliani benefits from weak competition. Fred Thompson is an actor and Mitt Romney is an investment banker. Neither occupation fits snugly into a narrative for blue-collar Missourian voters. So here’s where we stand: If Republicans had to nominate their candidate today, the winner would be a socially liberal former New York City mayor who lived with his gay neighbors after his second divorce in the same year that he held Donald Trump’s face between his fake breasts in a video for a New York Press Gala. Might be time to think of another G-word to fill out GOP (and I’m not thinking of Giuliani).

We’re still in October, which is a political epoch away from the January primaries. But conservatives are getting desperate for a leader who can convey strength and substance and sincerity at the same time. Right now, Rudy is their man. But, as in Jeopardy, he is an answer in the form of a question.

That’s Obama’s strength: a confidence so calm that when he speaks in front of thousands of supporters, or even millions of viewers, he looks like he could be speaking to a neighbor while he pushes his daughter on a swing. From a friend, such effortless sincerity might be merely charming. But from politicians, who often seem no more than fleshy robots programmed with automated answers, it is downright inspiring.

The obvious question is: If Obama is so naturally inspiring, why hasn’t he inspired more people? Since surging in national and statewide polls when he announced his candidacy in March, Obama has fallen way behind Hillary Clinton in national polls (she leads by around 20 percentage points). But more importantly, he has lost ground in the key primary states: He is down by more than 20 percentage points in New Hampshire, Florida and California. In the only state Obama leads — Illinois, where he has served in state government since the early 1990s and where he currently holds a Senate seat — his lead doesn’t even cover the margin of error. Thanks a lot, Oprah.

Obamaphiles could be excused for asking, “What the Hill are voters thinking?” Their candidate has more charisma than JFK, a smile that would make a Hollywood starlet blush, and a suit-sans-tie style that looks great on both CSPAN and Spin Magazine. But the man who is first in the heart of students nationwide still runs second his in party. What gives?

I recently heard a great explanation for why Hillary is leading in all national and most state polls: values voters choose Obama; interest voters choose Hillary.

This makes sense to me for two reasons. First, think about the kind of people who are statistically in the Obama camp: students, young professionals and more affluent, well-educated mothers and fathers. I’m not about to say that these people do not have interests. Many want the government to relax student loan laws, pay greater attention to education standards, and project a domestic policy that revolves around rearing children safely. But these are voters who can afford to vote with their hearts instead of their wallets.

Now think about the kind of voters in the Hillary camp: older African Americans, middle-class women. Many of these voters can’t afford to go another eight years without health care and they need an administration that places middle class concerns first. African Americans have not yet flocked to Obama like so many expected. It might have to do with the fact that Obama has convinced plenty of voters that he represents a new kind of politics, but he hasn’t convinced voters that he has the experience to fight for their interests as effectively as Hillary. As Rev. Al Sharpton recently put it, “Right now we’re hearing a lot of media razzle-dazzle…I’m not hearing a lot of meat, or a lot of content.”

Obama’s performance from the stump lifted him to the top echelon of the presidential hopefuls. But there have been a few times this summer when he might have been better off using his expressive hands to cover his mouth. To count off the episodes: 1) He somewhat hastily promised to meet with the world’s most dangerous leaders in his first year in office in the CNN/YouTube debate, which jumpstarted a hyperbolic mudslinging event between the Obama and Clinton campaigns; 2) After promising to build diplomacy with our enemies, he announced that he would bomb our tentative ally Pakistan to root out latent terrorists; 3) He told reporters that he would never use nuclear weapons and then, perhaps after realizing he had potentially lost every military industrial vote in the country, he asked the reporter to “scratch that.”

These weren’t big mistakes. In fact, they were hardly mistakes at all. I think most Democrats would agree that we should seek diplomacy with the world’s most dangerous powers; that we should be more proactive in rooting out al-Qaida in Pakistan; and that there are drawbacks to pretending that our nukes are always “on the table.” But in the heat of summer, the news-dehydrated media seized on each story as evidence that Obama lacks experience in foreign affairs. If Obama was running against only John Edwards, the charge of inexperience wouldn’t carry much weight. But against Hillary Clinton, whose campaign slogan is “Ready to Lead; Ready to Change,” any evidence that Obama is not ready to handle foreign affairs in the middle of the War on Terror could have a big impact on national defense voters.

From the beginning of this campaign, Obama has promised to be different. He won’t take donations from lobbyists, he won’t flood the media with brutal attacks, and he’ll practice what he calls “the politics of hope.” I don’t know exactly what that means, but it’s a bad idea. Obama chose the moral high ground, but winning elections means understanding when to throw the low blow. Whoever said, “Kill ‘em with kindness” never ran for office; and if he did, the Republicans certainly killed him at the ballot box.

Obama’s promise to practice kinder, gentler politics can only backfire. Early this summer, there was a ridiculous shoving match between the Clinton and Obama camps over the two candidates’ answers to the question: Would you agree to meet with the world’s most dangerous leaders in your first year? Obama answered first, saying that he would because he wanted to reverse the Bush administration’s aversion to diplomacy. Hillary, following up, said she wanted to pursue greater diplomacy, but would not promise to meet with a dangerous dictator without first understanding his intentions. It was a smart clarification, and Obama, if given the chance to comment, would likely have agreed. Realistically, there was no difference between the candidates’ opinions. But the campaigns turned this small crevice of a distinction into a war trench, firing shots at each other in the form of press releases and cable news appearances.

The lesson many people took away from this silly spat was that it will be difficult for Obama to mount an offensive against Hillary without seeming contradictory. Whenever Obama gets feisty, the opposing candidate can always say: “What ever happened to the politics of hope?” Nothing destroys a campaign more than the appearance of pervasive hypocrisy, because nobody votes for a candidates they don’t trust. By promising to operate under the politics of hope, Obama has stepped into this heavyweight fight with one arm tied behind his back.

Obama is a minority’s candidate. No, not that minority. President Bill Clinton’s exceptional relationship with black voters has paid rich dividends for Hillary, who still outpaces Obama among African Americans. I’m talking about us — politically involved students and yuppies. When was the last time you heard about young people swinging an election? Like never, right? Now how about a primary election? That’s the problem. Winning the national collegiate primary is like winning a Grammy. Sure, it might earn you a few magazine covers, but few consider it a predictor of future success.

None of Obama’s problems would matter if he had an unassailable block of dedicated voters, like the women’s vote for Hillary. But instead of a reliable cadre of supporters, Obama has people like you and me — liberal students and young professionals. We are the dangerously small minority in this country, the voice that is neither seen nor heard by the eyes and ears in the Capitol. Obama’s youngest supporters are among his most ardent. They are also his most impotent.

In May 2007, Obama made a stirring speech in Detroit urging automakers to make more fuel-efficient cars to meet the rising demand for energy conservation. That’s a good thing: The US auto industry is a 20th century dinosaur competing in a 21st century economy, and Detroit’s Big Three could use a little stirring up. But rather than offer compromise, Obama offered bromides: “There are two kinds of car companies - those that mass produce fuel-efficient cars and those that will. The American auto industry can no longer afford to be one of those that will,” he said.

That’s a fine speech, but it’s poor politics. Automakers in Detroit were incensed that a freshman senator had the nerve to tell them how to run their auto industry, and Michigan voters felt like Obama had swooped into their state to address their failures instead of their concerns. When Hillary spoke in Detroit one month later, she made the same point about energy efficiency, but she offered the shift in policy as a bargain. We’ll help your autoworker retirees with health care, she said, and we’ll invest in energy saving technologies for the next line of Fords and Chevies; but in exchange, Detroit needs to close the gap with Tokyo. Today Hillary leads Michigan by almost exactly the same margin she leads Obama and Edwards nationally: 38%-22%-15% according to the RealClearPolitics poll average.

Obama has said on numerous occasions that he wants to unite the country and end special interests politics in Washington. He’s banking on values to save his campaign — like change and unity and new directions. But what wins elections for the Democratic Party aren’t values, but interests — better health care coverage, better schools and stronger defense. As long as millions of Americans decide elections on these issues, special interests groups will decide to stake millions of dollars on them, too. With his poll numbers stagnant over the last four months, Obama and special interests have one big thing in common — at this point, it doesn’t look like either of them are going anywhere.

*Full Disclosure: I worked for Hillary Clinton’s Presidential Campaign over the summer in Washington, DC. I understand that this is a blasphemy at Northwestern that belongs somewhere between painting The Rock maize and blue and using it as a porta-potty. For this offense, I won’t ask for your forgiveness right away, because in Chicago or at any college (and especially at a college in Chicago), mine is an unforgivable offense. But my views haven’t changed that much. I still like Barack Obama; I still think John Edwards has some fascinating economic policy ideas; and I still have major bones with most of the Republican candidates. But I’m not interested in converting anybody with my columns — I just want to explain what I’ve read and what I’ve seen in these early stages of the campaign in a way that is both honest and entertaining.