Gone to the dogs
(continued)
by Dan Kennedy
So what happened? In large part, television and the role of the media
supplanted the old party structures. Television thrives on personal drama, on
personality, and this has led to the rise of candidates who are essentially on
their own -- running independent of their parties, or even against them (think
Jimmy Carter and Ronald Reagan in 1976, or Gary Hart in 1984). As Alan
Ehrenhalt put it in his 1991 book The United States of Ambition: "The
skills that work in American politics at this point in history are those of
entrepreneurship. At all levels of the political system, from local boards and
councils up to and including the presidency, it is unusual for parties to
nominate people. People nominate themselves. That is, they offer themselves as
candidates, raise money, organize campaigns, create their own publicity, and
make decisions in their own behalf."
With the votes of partisan Democrats and Republicans already in their pockets,
and with the undecideds eschewing any sort of party or ideological
identification, Bush and Gore have every incentive to design their pitch for
the 10 percent or so of the electorate who haven't made up their minds. Rather
than any substantive discussion of race and the state of urban America, or a
foreign-policy exchange that goes beyond sloganeering, we get lock boxes and
fuzzy math and prescription-drug benefits -- right down to (as a hilarious
debate parody making the rounds on the Internet puts it) a federal employee
showing up on the doorstep of every senior citizen in the country to help
remove the childproof cap.
Bush and Gore "have had a hard time finding much to disagree on, and I think
that's very frustrating to people," said Alex Jones, director of the Joan
Shorenstein Center on the Press, Politics, and Public Policy, part of Harvard's
John F. Kennedy School of Government, during a recent appearance on WBUR
Radio's The Connection. "I think people genuinely realize that they're
choosing stylistics, not substance." Yet Jones acknowledged that there are huge
differences between Gore and Bush on vital issues that they're not talking
about -- such as abortion rights and the Star Wars missile-defense system.
Thus it's not surprising that the public judged Gore and Bush to have done more
or less equally well (or badly) in the debates. On debating points, Gore
overwhelmed Bush in their first and third encounters, leaving his opponent
looking disastrously uninformed. Gore hurt himself, however, by going into full
pander mode, coming across as though there wasn't anything he wouldn't do or
say to ensure his election. That was far more unattractive than his supposed
ill manners. And with Gore (like Bush) deliberately playing down real
differences on big issues between Democrats and Republicans (as opposed to
playing up the minor, personal differences he has with Bush on how frequently
to test public-school students), the undecideds had no compelling reason to
move to his side.
With the traditional political-media complex breaking down, the candidates
have increasingly turned to alternative media -- and the media themselves have
mutated in unusual and interesting ways. Network shows such as Meet the
Press and This Week remain highly influential, but their audience
of political junkies and decision-makers is not particularly large. Their
main value comes when news is made, and excerpts are played later in the
day on TV newscasts and reported in the next day's papers.
But politicians are no longer satisfied with such trickle-down media, and are
increasingly turning to the likes of Oprah Winfrey, Regis Philbin, David
Letterman, and Jay Leno to reach a wider audience. This phenomenon is not
entirely new; Bill Clinton's sax-playing appearance on Arsenio Hall's show in
1992 helped save what was then a candidacy on the ropes. But Bush and Gore have
taken this to another level, treating non-political talk shows as though they
were just another stop along the campaign trail. (Gore took the
alternative-media thing to a new low last week with his, uh, upstanding
appearance on the cover of Rolling Stone. Hey, big guy, is that a
hard-money contribution in your pocket or are you just glad to see us?)
By no means is this a bad thing. The public deserves a chance to see the
candidates in as many -- and as many different kinds of -- forums as possible.
Besides, as Jake Tapper noted in Salon last Friday, Letterman -- while
not exactly adopting Ted Koppel's prosecutorial style -- was actually better
about asking Bush follow-up questions than many "real" journalists have been,
pressing him repeatedly about the death penalty and about what the American
response should be to the terrorist attack on the USS Cole.
Tapper makes a rather traditional critique of the political press: that the
candidates are talking about issues, but the media aren't covering them. "I
certainly have been talking about the personal styles of Bush and Gore, but not
to the exclusion of their positions," he told the Phoenix. "Of course,
there's no overwhelming issue like there was in '92," when the country was
slipping into recession and the federal budget deficit was raging out of
control. "But to anyone who's ever been denied coverage by an HMO, the right to
sue is a very important issue. I really think that one of the problems in this
campaign is that just about all of us in the press box are upper-middle-class
or more. I think if it was a requirement that to be a member of the national
press you could only make $22,000 a year, you'd see much different coverage."
Tapper makes a good point, but it's just the slightest bit off-target -- just
as it is with Paul Taylor, the free-time-for-candidates advocate who, according
to Howard Kurtz's media column in Monday's Washington Post, is trying to
shame ABC's local television stations into providing more-substantive coverage
of the presidential candidates. It's like the debate over so-called civic
journalism, in which the media attempt to hold candidates to account on a
series of substantive issues. It works when the candidates themselves are
making a serious attempt to address real concerns. But when the entire process
becomes a cynical exercise in appealing to the uninformed with
focus-group-tested catch phrases and clichés and lies (as Tapper notes,
Bush is now attempting to take credit for a patients' bill of rights in Texas
that he fought against tooth and nail), a press that focuses on sober-minded
analysis of the issues is approximately as useful as a pianist who plays Chopin
in the front parlor of a whorehouse.
That's why, increasingly, news consumers -- especially younger ones -- are
getting their politics from late-night comedy programs such as Letterman, Leno,
Politically Incorrect, The Daily Show, and Saturday Night
Live. Harvard's Vanishing Voter Project recently found that only 14 percent
of 18- to 29-year-olds planned to watch all or most of the first presidential
debate. Yet a recent survey by the Pew Research Center for the People and the
Press showed that 47 percent of Americans in the same age group obtain at least
some of their presidential-campaign news from the comedy shows. "The link
between politics and comedy is now fully institutionalized," wrote Marshall
Sella in the September 24 New York Times Magazine, citing the Pew survey
as evidence for his conclusions. "News outlets now present comedians not as
escapists from hard news but as legitimate commentators upon it."
And if you can't beat them, join them. That's the only possible explanation for
a story by Hank Stuever in Monday's Washington Post, headlined IT
ALL BOILS DOWN TO WHO'S CUTER. To wit: "Women trust Al -- he's sturdyish,
recycles, enjoys camping, wants to save money for the future he feels you'll
spend together. Men are more charmed by Dubya -- he's likable, sporty, has
stock tips, winks, seems like he'd blow hilarious snot rockets and have towel
fights in the locker room. So who's cuter? The United States is being such a
girl about it. Which is why the United States can't
decide."
To be sure, there are good reasons for this year's disconnect between the
public and the politicians (and the media that cover them). For one thing, we
are living in a time of unparalleled prosperity. Even the much-vaunted gap
between rich and poor, though still distressingly large, has been closing
during the past couple of years, as the African-American unemployment rate has
fallen to a record low. "The way the public shows its appreciation for good
times is total and complete avoidance of the political process," says
Massachusetts Democratic political consultant Michael Goldman, who worked on
Bill Bradley's doomed presidential campaign.
Then, too, the ideological wars of recent years have burned themselves out. The
failure of the Clinton health-care plan marked the end of big-government
liberalism. The Gingrich-inspired government shutdown resulted in the death of
small-government (or no-government) conservatism. This is an era of divided
government, of conservatives who want to appear compassionate, of liberals who
promise to cut taxes and pay off the national debt. Al Gore and George W. Bush,
decidedly prosaic politicians, also labor in the shadow of Bill Clinton, who
combines a larger-than-life persona with a sleaziness that has sharply
diminished the presidency. People may be detached in part because of a sense of
contentment; but it's more complicated and more ominous than that. Beneath the
fat-and-happy façade is a foreboding sense of disengagement.
David Brooks, of the Weekly Standard, got at it as well as anyone in two
recent appearances on The NewsHour. "The election is happening as if
across a crowded restaurant on television, or across a crowded nursery school,"
he said. The following week, he returned to that theme, commenting on the
startlingly muted public response to the terrorist attack on the Cole.
"You know, we went to war 100 years ago because someone sank a ship of ours,"
he said. "This time it was as if there were an airplane crash. People talked
about the technical issues of the Cole, and the size of the boat. People
felt sorry for the victims. But there seemed to me almost an amazing lack of
indignation, and an absence of `let's go get these guys' -- you know, `let's
get really fired up about this' -- which is a piece of the complacency that has
surrounded the whole race."
Brooks is on to something, and he came even closer in observing how much more
comfortable and normal-seeming running mates Joe Lieberman and Dick Cheney are
than Gore and Bush -- and how that says something deeply disturbing about the
way we pick presidents.
The truth is that everything that's wrong with Campaign 2000 was perfectly
clear by the end of 1999. The rise of the undecided, uninformed voter, the
disengagement, the restive political press, the increasing influence of comedy
shows, the marginalization of non-mainstream candidates such as Ralph Nader and
Pat Buchanan -- all of these are the direct result of a system that rewards
insider candidates who can talk moderate mush out of one side of their mouths
and persuade well-heeled contributors to write checks out of the other side;
who can tolerate, and even thrive on, the freakish fishbowl existence of a
modern presidential campaign; and who have shed every rough edge or interesting
quirk many, many years ago.
Right now, amid good times, voters are disengaged. Come the next economic
downturn or foreign crisis, though, that disengagement will turn into
disenchantment, or even alienation. It was there in 1992, when Ross Perot won
19 percent of the general vote. It was there in 1996, when Buchanan and his
pitchfork peasants won the New Hampshire primary. Even this year, it was there
in the streets of Philadelphia and Los Angeles, and it continues to show up in
the huge crowds Nader draws.
Next time, the dog that didn't bark -- except in the pages of Newsweek
-- will demand to be heard. Woof!
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Dan Kennedy's work can be accessed from his Web site:
http://www.dankennedy.net
Articles from July 24, 1997 & before can be accessed here