A poll in this week’s Time Magazine shows that the relentless Swift Boat Veterans ads and the Republican National Convention—a somewhat unprecedented incumbent convention, considering the amount of attention devoted to the weaknesses of the challenger—have taken a toll on John F. Kerry. The poll shows President Bush leading Kerry 52 percent to 41 percent, with Kerry’s favorability rating down from about 55 percent in August to 43 percent today.

More surprising than the magnitude of Bush’s bounce, however, is the fact that Kerry seems to be taking it sitting down. Rather than challenge the president with a slew of obvious and legitimate criticisms—a costly war fought on what now appear to be false pretenses, an economy in recession, a nation hemorrhaging jobs, a $400 billion budget deficit—Kerry seems to be trying to stay above it all, being elusive rather than clear, being hopelessly optimistic rather than perhaps fatally realistic. His most publicized statements, such as last week’s promise to create a Department of Wellness to advocate preventive healthcare, beg the question posed by our friend Jon Stewart on “The Daily Show:”

Is he trying to lose?

Considering his lifelong aspirations to the White House, that seems unlikely—yet his strategy makes you wonder. This summer, C-Span aired an episode of “The Dick Cavett Show” in 1971, showing a younger John F. Kerry debating his current Swift Boat rival John O’Neill on Vietnamization and how to end the War. The Kerry of 1971 paradoxically makes the Kerry of today look like an amateur. He was poised as always without sacrificing vitality; he was sharp and in command, and he seized every opportunity to quietly take his opponent to the cleaners. His nuance wasn’t a burden to his effectiveness; rather, it was captivating. He embodied the feeling of inevitability that has followed his aspirations for the White House; perhaps he was too cocksure, too patrician, but he was clear in his convictions. Today the passionate youth seems to have given way to a flabbier, saggier candidacy.

That was, of course, before he lost his first race; he never lost again, but the mid-campaign scare was somewhat institutionalized. Kerry has a reputation in Massachusetts for stumbling through the middle of the campaign and then emerging victoriously from the trainwreck unscathed, like a political Mr. Magoo (see his Senate campaign against Governor William Weld ’66). For those of us in his corner, I suppose that counts as consolation.

Kerry’s lack of response and attack seems to stem from a philosophy that a negative candidacy is doomed to fail—and that optimism is key. A positive message is certainly worthwhile, but not at the expense of self-defense and a potentially dangerous inability to criticize the chief executive’s judgment. Optimism is all well and good, but Kerry is running for president, not head cheerleader. His pal Bill Clinton is right: Strength and wisdom are not opposing values. But it certainly would be stupid not to show a little more strength.

Peter C. Mulcahy ’07, a Crimson editorial editor, is a government concentrator in Cabot House.