Seen as the undeniable favorite after the victory in the Persian Gulf, George H.W. Bush had an 80 percent job approval rating until late spring. Plagued by tabloid controversy, Bill Clinton remained the underdog in the fight for the Democratic nomination. Political analysts deemed Clinton little more than a bump in the road for the Bush team and the Washington establishment.
Yet, on election day, voters overwhelmingly elected the Washington "outsider" in hope of rekindling America's recession-plagued economy. Bush represented the east coast, white, male, elitist attitude to which many Americans attributed the weakened job market. He was of a different generation of Americans who could vividly remember the Second World War, but were unable to comprehend the Vietnam generation's distrust of political authority.
Bush's inability to communicate and connect with the public diametrically opposed Clinton's ability to project himself as both a politically competent candidate and an everyday American. When he told audiences he felt and understood their economic strife, Americans believed him. In 1992 and again in 1996, Clinton's political genius lay in his unrivaled gift for making every voter feel that he was speaking directly to them as a guy you'd be as likely to invite over for a beer as to elect President of the United States.
That political deftness-arguably the most effective in American history-created in Americans the genuine desire for a president who matched intelligence with charisma. Increasingly disenfranchised and disillusioned by corrupt government, the public demands more style than substance from their leaders. No one before Clinton had so successfully used spin doctors and spokespeople. His public image, tailored to public sentiment by pollsters, media analysts, and campaign managers, changed with chameleon-like facility and yet never felt wavering.
After watching last week's presidential debate, I was amazed by the candidates' ability to change their respective styles-in the span of 15 days. Sitting with Jim Lehrer, I saw two men desperately trying to prove the pundits wrong. On the right, Vice President Al Gore suddenly became a subdued intellect, orating but not preaching. On the left, Governor George W. Bush coolly and rather cogently displayed his newfound fluency with the issues. Replete with self-effacing humor and compliments for their opponents, Bush and Gore followed the example of their running mates and played nice while tackling more complex issues.
Excited by the complexity of the discussion and the performance of both men, for the first time I saw two men who really were running Presidential campaigns and not waging a junior high name-calling war. Then I was reminded of the first debate, when Bush really did mangle numerous "syl-ah-bles" and Gore did interrupt every Bush response.
So, I asked myself how those two men, one condescending and the other bumbling, became the two "Presidential" men before me. How many spin doctors, advisors, strategists, stylists, fundraisers and spokespeople does it take to make an American president? Do we as Americans demand so much from our candidates as to warrant teams of experts, speechwriters and "everyday-people" advisors?
Of course, Bill Clinton was not the first president to use his circle of advisors as a means to connect with the pulse of the American people. In fact, most presidents in the 20th century have been forced by the ever-broadening scope of the media to depend on paid experts for advice and strategy.
In principle, using strategists to better understand the needs of the public appears both wise and efficient. However, the very elements that intend to connect the presidential candidates with the people have distanced the two parties even more.
Most pundits recognize Clinton as the first president to rely on political polls to determine everything from cabinet appointees to the color of the tie he should wear on television. With his approach to governance and his desire to identify with Americans, he has ushered in a new era of politics. As vice president, Gore follows suit, polling ritualistically and evaluating poll results as the last word in public sentiment.
Both candidates rely on tacticians and speechwriters to crystallize their messages and to deliver those messages in an appealing manner. How many people really believe that either Bush or Gore came up with their one-liners during last week's debate? Do the majority of Americans truly think that the smiling faces and contrasting ties were of the candidates' own design?
If we follow the same polls that both candidates follow, the voting public knows that it is being duped by the congenial, rouged faces that Bush and Gore present. However, we believe that we have the ability to see beneath the Brooks Brothers suits and coiffed hair into the soul of the candidate. Somehow, despite the corruption and degradation of our political institutions, most Americans maintain a desire to believe that the system remains worthy of salvation.
No matter how the media representatives and spin doctors influence the imminent election, no matter who is elected our nation's 43rd President, substance no longer determines a viable candidate. Instead, Americans are willing to sacrifice a little substance for style.
Last night, Gore and Bush faced off in the third and final Presidential debate. Writing this before the debate I assume they will likely both attempt to erase some preconceived notions about their candidacies. However questions still remain: will Bush appear even more informed, more capable and competent, than last week, while maintaining his appeal as an
average American? Can Gore, for his part, stay subdued while attacking Bush with care and maintaining his uncanny grasp of policy? But what I know is that the American people will not be fooled by the mascara, hairspray, and smiles applied to both candidates. And, not an eyelash, strand of hair, or warm sentiment, no matter how convoluted, will be out of place.
Geoff Walter is a member of the Class of 2004.