So it was in Philadelphia for the 21st debate of this nomination contest, where Pennsylvania’s voters have surely earned the right to liberty and the pursuit of happiness after five weeks of endless political ads and candidates on bus tours.
How exhausted is the debate format? ABC’s producers were so desperate for new ideas they resorted to quoting sections of the Constitution after every commercial break. (The first ad break came only three minutes into the debate, suggesting that ABC was more interested in generating revenue than reviving interest in the founding clauses of the nation.)
The candidates quickly got down to business. Barack Obama needed to address his comments about the bitterness felt in small-town America, which he did in his opening remarks, saying the country was both decent and frustrated. Hillary Clinton needed to keep the small-town flap alive, so—a few minutes later—she talked about a country that was both positive and frustrated. In its third century of existence, a frustrated America is still engaged in the pursuit of happiness.
When faced with their first real question, neither candidate wanted to answer—a rare moment of silence that revealed more about the relationship between the two senators than did 90 minutes of predictable “gotcha” questions and telegraphed swipes between the candidates.
Why not take one another for veep, in line with the suggestion by Mario Cuomo, asked moderator Charlie Gibson? Both candidates stared out at the audience with forced smiles. “Don’t all speak at once,” Gibson quipped.
When Obama finally jumped into the void, he spoke of the need for party unity before talking about the subject he really wanted to debate: John McCain. “I’m confident that both Sen. Clinton’s supporters and Sen. Obama’s supporters will be supporting the Democratic nominee when we start engaging in that general election,” he said, referring to himself as a strangely out-of-body experience.
Clinton talked about getting her supporters to back the ultimate nominee, suggesting that she didn’t really see herself as the ultimate nominee. “I will do everything to make sure that the people who supported me support our nominee,” she said.
That was enough of the happy unity talk. The inexorable logic of this 15-month-old primary season is that both candidates are locked into their past statements, previous positions and year-old arguments. They debate because they don’t want to be seen as avoiding debates. And they campaign because that’s their sole present occupation.
To pundits and the press, debates are about who gained the upper hand and whose performance was marginally better. Real voters may be looking for something more meaningful—such as an insight into character or policy that was unknown or unexpected. After 20 debates, such insight is desperately hard to find.
Clinton needed a game-changing moment, as she has since Obama opened up a sizable lead through 11 straight election wins in February. Judging by Obama’s consistent poll advantage nationwide, it didn’t happen after Obama’s preacher’s sermons came to light, and it didn’t happen after his small-town comments last week. It didn’t happen in Philadelphia on Wednesday, either.
Clinton opened a newish line of attack on Obama’s connections to William Ayers, a former member of the Weather Underground. But Obama was more than ready for her criticism, pointing out that the connection was tenuous and that Bill Clinton had pardoned two former members of the same defunct terrorist group.
Both candidates slipped into weary roles. Clinton played the role of reluctant aggressor. It pained her that Republicans would punch Obama in the face in the general election, but she felt compelled to help her own party by punching him in the face first. “I know Sen. Obama’s a good man, and I respect him greatly,” she said, as she accused him of befriending a terrorist. “But I think that this is an issue that certainly the Republicans will be raising.”
A few minutes later she was bemoaning how those awful Republicans would surely also want to raise the issue of Obama’s preacher’s alleged admiration for Louis Farrakhan and terrorists again, this time in the form of Hamas. “You know, these are problems. And they raise questions in people’s minds,” she explained. “And so this is a legitimate area, as everything is, when we run for office, for people to be exploring and trying to find answers.” Everything has legitimacy if Republicans might have questions—an attitude that was not displayed by the Clintons through the 1990s.
Obama played the role of the aggrieved outsider. He was tired of the old distractions, fake outrage and personal attacks, just like the voters—especially over his own misstatements. But he also couldn’t help it if his overexuberant campaign aides engaged in some old-fashioned distractions, fake outrage and personal attacks—some of them over Clinton’s misstatements. “You know, I haven’t commented on the issue of Bosnia,” he said. “Your campaign has,” interjected George Stephanopoulos. “Of course,” said Obama without a hint of irony. “Because we’re asked about it … I think Sen. Clinton deserves the right to make some errors once in a while. Obviously, I make some as well. I think what’s important is to make sure that we don’t get so obsessed with gaffes that we lose sight of the fact that this is a defining moment in our history.”
That didn’t stop ABC from devoting much of its precious debate time to gaffes, flaps and other campaign trivia, like flag pins. It turns out that after a year of an extraordinary Democratic contest, with two history-making candidates, you can have too much of a good thing. TV debates can turn stale and ridiculous, just like the second season of “Desperate Housewives.” Is it really possible to long for Dennis Kucinich and Mike Gravel to return to a microphone? Or is that proof that Clinton and Obama have said everything they can about one another?
The best moments of the debate were voyeuristic in nature, watching the candidates squirm on their own mistakes, like the bug-eating contests on “Fear Factor.” Clinton was forced to chew an entire Bosnia story. “I can tell you that I may be a lot of things,” she said. “But I’m not dumb. And I wrote about going to Bosnia in my book in 2004. I laid it all out there. And you’re right. On a couple of occasions in the last weeks I just said some things that weren’t in keeping with what I knew to be the case and what I had written about in my book. And, you know, I’m embarrassed by it. I have apologized for it. I’ve said it was a mistake. And it is, I hope, something that you can look over, because, clearly, I am proud that I went to Bosnia.”
Obama almost gagged on Reverend Wright’s comments suggesting that he had disowned a pastor he said he could never disown. “You know, the notion that somehow the American people are going to be distracted once again by comments not made by me, but somebody who is associated with me that I have disowned, I think doesn’t give the American people enough credit,” he said. “You’ve disowned him?” asked Stephanopoulos. “The comments, comments that I’ve disowned,” Obama said.
But most of Wednesday’s questions were straight from the script. When asked if their rivals could beat John McCain, the candidates did what any sane person would do. “Obviously,” started Clinton, “I believe I would be the best president or I would not still be here standing on this stage.”
“I too think that I’m the better candidate,” said Obama as the audience laughed. “And I don’t think that surprises anybody.”
Much like the rest of the 21st debate.
