The response
Throughout Bonifaz’s address, Galvin — who resembles a deeper-voiced, darker-complected William H. Macy — stood at the back of the room, lips pursed, watching impassively. Anyone who’d seen his disappointing speech at last year’s state Democratic convention in Lowell, when he was still considering running for governor, might have assumed Galvin would get the worst of this particular battle. But while Galvin’s remarks in Lowell were flat and phlegmatic, he matched Bonifaz’s intensity in Pittsfield.
First came a mild quip — “You know, if I believed everything I just heard, I wouldn’t vote for me” — that was soon followed by harsher versions of the same message. Galvin would offer the audience an assessment of his record that was “rooted in reality, not falsehood.” He would not make “fantastic claims.” Nor would he peddle “stories and lies.” Forget the MassVote study, Galvin said. The truth is that, under his watch, Massachusetts counts its votes. That’s why, during the contested 2000 presidential election — when Bonifaz, as director of the National Voting Rights Institute, supported another candidate — Al Gore’s camp contacted Galvin for advice. (That unnamed candidate: Ralph Nader.)
What’s more, Galvin added, the secretary of the Commonwealth’s job isn’t just about elections. It’s also about securities regulation, for example — and Galvin just nailed Bank of America and Citizens Bank for improper annuities sales to elderly clients. It’s also about making concrete improvements in the lives of Massachusetts residents. Which is why Galvin is working to expand Internet access in rural areas, and why he continues to support a single-payer health-care system for the state. “People in Massachusetts know my record,” Galvin concluded. And then, just to drive home the Bonifaz-as-liar theme: “These are real policies, not fantastic fantasies.”
Fully parsing Bonifaz’s critique of Galvin, and Galvin’s response to it, would require more space than we have here. Ultimately, however, their sparring probably won’t determine the course of this particular campaign. The contours of the race already seem clear — and they hint at an abiding internal divide in the Massachusetts Democratic Party.
For his part, Bonifaz is a bona fide lefty, an activist who’d surely use the secretary’s job as a vehicle for his activism if elected. (As head of the NVRI, Bonifaz is currently representing David Cobb and Michael Badnarik — the Green and Libertarian presidential candidates from 2004, respectively — in a lawsuit seeking a full recount of presidential ballots cast in Ohio two years ago.) Galvin, as already mentioned, is an archetypal Beacon Hill insider. And despite his decidedly populist stance on economic issues, other conservative leanings — most notably, his opposition to abortion — often lead him to be classed as a centrist.
The insurgent-versus-insider narrative is well established here in Massachusetts. Here’s how the story line goes: the insurgents — think Robert Reich in the 2002 gubernatorial campaign or Deval Patrick in this year’s governor’s race — generate plenty of buzz in the early going, as their energy and left-of-center views fire up the Democratic base. As the campaign progresses, however, they begin to struggle, hampered by inferior campaign organizations and fundraising difficulties. Then, by the time the primary rolls around, they’re essentially out of the game.
