Before his Nov. 11 lecture, James Carville signs a copy of his book We're Right, They're Wrong for law student Katheryn Becker in Willard Straight Hall. Robert Barker/University Photography
Introduced by government Professor Isaac Kramnick as the man who can sell beer and American Express cards as well as he can sell Democratic presidential candidates, James Carville promoted his political philosophy and his new book We're Right, They're Wrong to a standing-room-only crowd in Uris Auditorium on Nov. 11.
Carville, the Democratic Party strategist and "spin doctor" who ran President Clinton's successful 1992 campaign, held forth for two hours on everything from his marriage to Republican strategist Mary Matalin to his love for politics.
After chuckling and mugging to the audience during Kramnick's introduction, Carville launched into a political stand-up routine.
"The town I grew up in was so small that the biggest industry was jury duty," Carville said with a grin, recalling his Louisiana hometown. After flunking out of Louisiana State University, he said he joined the Marine Corps and eventually obtained the rank of corporal. "Which makes me the highest ranking military official in the entire Clinton administration," he joked.
After having informed his listeners that he, along with the Pope, had been named one of Spy magazine's "100 Most Annoying People," Carville began discussing who and what annoys him.
"I'm going to talk about what is really bothering me," he said, "that there is by every measure a decline in interest in politics, a decline in participation among the young people of our country."
For the rest of his talk, Carville became more heated on the subject, which he directed at his college audience. Expressing concern that students are crossing the line from being skeptics to being cynics, he acknowledged the weaknesses of politics, but was strong in his defense of the achievements of politicians and the possibilities of government.
"It's done a lot damn well, and we ought to remember that," Carville argued.
And he asked his young audience not only to vote, but also to participate and rally against the cynical naysayers he sees convincing young people that politics is tainted and ineffective.
"Don't let them kill that fire," he said. "Fight back, fight back."
Aiming his message directly at his Cornell audience, he argued that if someone who flunked out of LSU can make a difference, then someone who graduates from Cornell should be compelled to.
"Why come to Cornell and not make use of it?" he asked the crowd. "There are two ways you can go through life: be a rainmaker or get rained on."
After speaking for an hour, Carville opened up the floor to questions. Some questioners challenged Carville about the apparent conflict between his promotion of active involvement and of finding out truths for oneself, and his job of spinning one-sided political truths and propaganda.
"You're never going to be protected from this," he answered. "Spin, sloganeering, is always going to be there, but you sort through it; you deal with it."
To other questions, on the growing wealth stratification in America, on the possibility of abolishing the electoral college and on Clinton's alleged character flaws, Carville's answers were generally indirect.
He greatly amused the audience in responding to one student's question about whether he would consider running a campaign for Sen. Strom Thurmond.
"I don't work with Republicans!" he almost screamed.
Hands were still raised for questions when the program ended, and Carville left to a standing ovation.
Many in attendance agreed the lecture was great "entertainment." But Paul Krieger '97 said he wanted more.
"His message that each American should be politically active was a compelling one," Krieger said, "but his speech lacked real political commentary."