OPINION:Hillary Clinton distanced herself from her own supporters by the manner in which she urged them to support Barack Obama, writes Richard Adams.
IT WAS hot and sweaty in Denver on Tuesday, getting more humid as evening drew in. But just moments before Hillary Clinton was due to address the Democratic party's national convention, the skies opened in drenching rain, clearing the air.
If you wanted a perfect metaphor - a pathetic fallacy, in fact - for Hillary Clinton's speech this evening, then there it was.
To call Clinton's speech eagerly awaited would be an understatement. The drumbeat of the media of Clintonian reluctance in the last week has been a steady background to the convention, as if Hillary was Achilles sulking in her tent. But not any more.
Her speech should delete any serious idea that she remains disenchanted or passively hostile towards Obama. She made that obvious right from the outset - as she had to - by saying: "I am honoured to be here tonight. I'm here tonight as a proud mother. As a proud Democrat. As a proud senator from New York. A proud American. And a proud supporter of Barack Obama. And whether you voted for me, or voted for Barack, the time is now to unite as a single party with a single purpose. We are on the same team, and none of us can afford to sit on the sidelines."
But it wasn't her up-front support for Obama that was most effective in blunting the Clintonian refuseniks in the Pepsi Centre, not to mention the more worrying guerillas prowling around Denver in their Puma T-shirts. Instead it was her brilliant use of a rhetorical device that showed her to be far more effective in argument than her utilitarian speaking style suggests.
Hillary Clinton is no barnstorming speaker, as a rule. She showed it again for much of Tuesday night, when she repeatedly stepped on her own applause lines. Not long into the speech she seemed to have settled into a familiar theme of her stump speeches during the primaries - the recitation of various struggling Americans who urged her on, such as the boy who sold his bicycle to donate to her campaign, and many others.
Some of these inspirations became familiar friends to anyone following the long primary season. Some resurfaced again in Denver. "I will always remember the young man in a Marine Corps T-shirt who waited months for medical care and he said to me: 'Take care of my buddies; a lot of them are still over there, and then will you please take care of me'?"
But this time, there was a twist - the twist of a knife. After thanking her supporters, Clinton listed the policies that she had fought for, noting: "Those are the reasons I ran for president and those are the reasons I support Barack Obama for president."
Then she stopped dead in her tracks, and said: "I want you to ask yourselves: Were you in this campaign just for me? Or were you in it for that young marine and others like him? Were you in it for that mom struggling with cancer while raising her kids? Were you in it for that young boy and his mom surviving on the minimum wage? Were you in it for all the people in this country who feel invisible?"
At a stroke Clinton had confronted her supporters, directly, although in such a way it turned the question back on those who cling to her candidacy to the point of withholding their votes from Obama. Instead, they were suddenly cast adrift on their own egos. Such a profound challenge by a politician to her own supporters is very rare indeed.
It's a luxury that only a secure and confident leader can afford. It absolves Clinton of responsibility of what any remaining rump of her supporters choose to do.
It's not about her now - it's about them. - (Guardian service)
This commentary was published first in the Comment is Free section of the Guardian's website, guardian.co.uk