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<text id=92TT2295>
<title>
Oct. 12, 1992: Al's O.K., You're O.K.
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1992
Oct. 12, 1992 Perot:HE'S BACK!
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
ENVIRONMENT, Page 60
Al's O.K., You're O.K.
</hdr><body>
<p> As his motorcade sped through leafy Allegheny County,
Pennsylvania, in late September, Al Gore leaned against his
orthopedic back pillow, drank bottled water and reflected on the
human spirit and his newfound sense of self. How is it that the
wooden-tongued policy wonk of 1988 has emerged as an
introspective spokesman for the inner child, an icon of the new
manhood? Says Gore simply: "I found the connection between my
head and my heart."
</p>
<p> In that special transaction between candidates and voters,
Gore's currency is the language of self-discovery. The myth of
the log cabin has been replaced by another image of adversity
-- the dysfunctional family. Few politicians represent that
shift better than Al Gore, who through his own psychic battles
has found not only his voice but a vocabulary that borrows
heavily from therapyspeak. But, says Gore, "if the language I
use or the ideas that I discuss are a little bit out in front
of what the conventional political wisdom says, I don't care."
It's not that Gore is rubbing crystals or espousing a national
12-step program. His stump speech is standard fare; he follows
the "Q. and M." -- question and message of the day -- in
countless public appearances. But the Tennessean can subtly slip
into words like "dysfunction" and "inner child" as adroitly as
his supporters buckle on their Birkenstocks. He makes eye
contact when someone talks about "letting go." In conversation,
Gore offers Zen-like nuggets like, "Sometimes you can only find
something by losing it."
</p>
<p> Most Americans got their first glimpse of the "new" Al
Gore during the Democratic National Convention last July, when
the vice-presidential candidate recounted his six-year-old
son's brush with death and his family's journey of emotional
healing. Some sneered at Gore's revelations about family
counseling as mawkish exploitation of private tragedy for
political gain. But many voters, aware of the transforming
experience of a personal tragedy, are less cynical; they
understand that politicians can be simultaneously strategic and
sincere. "I thought, `This white-bread family admitted to
counseling?' " recalls Susan Longley of Liberty, Maine, who had
been lukewarm to Gore before his speech. "And since then I've
developed a magnetic pull to Gore, because he speaks the
language of people who tend their hearts." Family counseling is
not part of Gore's campaign pitch, but like many of his
generation, he is clearly fascinated by the family as an
institution. He talks enthusiastically about Swiss psychoanalyst
Alice Miller, whose 1981 classic Prisoners of Childhood, renamed
The Drama of the Gifted Child, argues that children deprived of
unconditional love from their parents grow up with emotional
hunger and injure their own offspring by repeating the pattern.
He says he has also been influenced by his Harvard professor
Erik Erikson, who pioneered work in the discovery of personal
identity.
</p>
<p> Though it deals with the environment rather than
psychology, Gore's own book, Earth in the Balance, is infused
with self-help concepts. Gore speaks of a "dysfunctional
civilization" and uses terms like "pathology of addiction" and
"denial" to discuss humanity's relationship to the earth. "Just
as the members of a dysfunctional family emotionally anesthetize
themselves against the pain they would otherwise feel," he
writes, "our dysfunctional civilization has developed a numbness
that prevents us from feeling the pain of our alienation from
our world."
</p>
<p> Not your basic campaign stump speech. But when Vice
President Dan Quayle derides Gore's notions as "pretty bizarre
stuff," he may not be aware that millions of people attend
support groups every week in the U.S. "A lot of political
professionals don't begin to suspect the extent to which
millions of Americans have begun to think about these things --
the richness of their inner lives," Gore says.
</p>
<p> That may be. But the willingness to expose those inner
lives from the podium is something new in U.S. politics. In 1972
Thomas Eagleton was shamed off the Democratic presidential
ticket after revelations that he had undergone shock therapy.
This year, in contrast, the Democrats are getting maximum
electoral mileage out of their personal problems -- perhaps
hoping that people will bring their inner children into the
voting booths with them.
</p>
<p> By Elizabeth Taylor with Gore
</p>
</body></article>
</text>