Read My Knuckles

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The compassionate, big-tent Republicanism on which Bush campaigned for months became threatening to him when the tent started filling up with pro-McCain independents. So he called on the right wing of his party to guard the doors of the tent, warning that Democrats were conspiring to hijack the primary. The man who prides himself on being "a uniter, not a divider" won by pitting social conservatives against moderates. He kicked off his South Carolina assault at Bob Jones University, a place where interracial dating is officially prohibited. He all but told listeners on Christian radio that openly gay people would not find spots in his administration. He said he wasn't going to "tear down" his opponent, but his campaign literature told voters that "McCain says one thing but does another," and it distorted many of McCain's positions--charging, for example, that McCain wants to remove the pro-life plank from the G.O.P platform. That isn't true, and among religious conservatives, it was a napalm blast at McCain.

Those tactics helped Bush win South Carolina, but they could alienate the voters he needs in the fall if he secures the nomination. McCain hammered that message home in his unforgiving concession speech, saying Bush's tactics would give the country "Speaker Gephardt and President Gore." McCain was warning that in the eyes of many Americans, Bush has become the candidate of Bob Jones, the Confederacy, the National Rifle Association and the National Right to Life Committee. And though Bush proved in South Carolina that he can change his spots as nimbly as Bill Clinton does, he must now show that he can change them back--something that is a good deal harder to do.

Three weeks ago, when McCain began comparing himself to a Star Wars hero--"I'm Luke Skywalker trying to get out of the Death Star"--the analogy seemed overblown. But by primary day in South Carolina, it seemed more than apt.

Bush's Death Star strategy was hatched on Feb. 2, the day after he lost New Hampshire to McCain by 18 points. His top advisers met in a panic at a hotel in Greenville, S.C. Not only was Bush's air of inevitability shattered--McCain was galloping from 40 points behind in South Carolina to a dead heat--but all their presumptions about the race had proved wrong. They had spent months trying to plug the stature gap and build an image of Bush as a candidate who could unite the party--and then they were blindsided by a Republican at war with its leaders. At that meeting, Bush's team realized he had to forget his promises to run a "hopeful and optimistic and very positive" campaign--promises that had been easy to make last fall, when he seemed to be waltzing unopposed to the nomination. Bush agreed to do whatever it would take to win. And in South Carolina, "whatever it takes" has a colorful lineage.