They cast about for a vessel into which to pour their own peculiar formulas, and came up with Professor Einstein. This is what they did, a few years back, with Mr. Clinton. This is a dodge, of course. But by framing it in this way, Isaacson takes the heat off the accumulated failures of left-ideology. It's a weird kind of face-saving.
Progressives are notoriously petulant.
Having lost the game, they now declare that it wasn't worth playing. They suddenly find within themselves higher aspirations, deep thoughts, lofty visions. With the flick of a magazine cover, they discover that they were men of science all along. But Isaacson's own sense of solemn self-importance has never been more clearly on display. He's the speck who got to name the person of the century.