Dear Commissioners: Junk Your Rules

Siva Vaidhyanathan writes:

Co-Chairman Frank J. Fahrenkopf, Jr.
Co-Chairman Paul G. Kirk, Jr.
Commission on Presidential Debates
1200 New Hampshire Ave, N.W.
Box 445
Washington, DC 20036

Dear Sirs:

Please consider these criticisms and suggestions for format changes for the 2004 Presidential Debates. I have thought a lot about the ways these debates present our candidates in recent years. The three most recent debates exemplify my concerns most acutely.

It seems to me that the three formats used in the 2000 debates represent three distinct and all-too-familiar models. The first is the traditional Lincoln-Douglas format, although I really don't know whether those two stood behind wood podiums or wore exactly the same red tie when they met. The second debate was the Larry King model. The candidates sat close enough to stare into each other's eyes, although they avoided eye contact almost completely. And the third is called a "town hall" meeting, although I know of no town in which residents read from index cards when addressing their public officials. All three formats overdetermine the dialogue and behavior of the audience, moderator, and participants.

Let's toss the first two formats completely. They do nothing for us. They simply allow the candidates to perform in specific, narrowly constructed roles. They both — Al Gore more than George W. Bush — looked as if they were running for membership in the Hall of Presidents at Disney World rather than the presidency of the United States.

In the traditional debate format, each tries to look and act like Kennedy and avoid looking or acting like Nixon. They can't help it. Their brains and brain trusts are loaded with anecdotal dos and don'ts from 40 years of formal debates. The candidates try their best not to make a Ford-on-Eastern-Europe mistake or a Dukakis-on-rape blunder. They struggle for the Reaganesque quips, the Clintonesque warmth, the Kennedyesque panache. It's the same every four years. The candidates are programmed to behave within increasingly tight verbal and behavioral ranges.

In the Larry King format, unsurprisingly, the candidates act as if they are on Larry King Live. Again, they can't help it. They are coached by watching themselves and others on Larry King for years. Then they are overtly coached by their handlers to seem candid and human on cue — without expressing the anger, frustration, joy, hubris, and ignorance that we humans actually feel during real political discussions. Of course, Jim Lehrer is no Larry King.

The third format works somewhat better than the other two. We have less of an idea of what a "town hall meeting" should actually look, feel and sound like because too few of us have actually gone to our town halls and discussed public issues with leaders in real time. We have only a handful of behavioral guidelines in our collective consciousness. At this point all we can distill from the mediated town hall experiences is that one should not glance at one's watch, use phrases such as "people of means" (witness George Bush the Elder in 1992), and that one should by all means feel the pain of someone else. That's a much lighter historical burden than the other two formats lay on the candidates.

But the 2000 "town hall meeting" debate in St. Louis missed its opportunity to present these candidates as much more than scripted performers or programmed robots. There was surprisingly little space for improvisation and rough, tactile interaction with Americans. Questioners had to read screened questions from index cards. They could not be impolite, impatient or irritating. And they could not ask follow-up questions. If a candidate dodged a question or gave a fuzzy response, the questioner could not challenge the candidate. Jim Lehrer, as usual, had no interest in pressing the candidates to answer questions directly. Jim Lehrer is no Atticus Finch. Once a candidate fielded a question, he had two minutes to answer. Sure, John Elway can score two touchdowns in two minutes. But should we expect our president to be able to explain a tax plan or a principle of military intervention in two minutes?

So for 2004, please consider rejecting the rules and guidelines that structure the dialogue. Eliminate time restrictions. If a voter asks Al Gore how he would pay for these thousands of new tested and certified teachers without trampling on local control of curriculum and quality, let Gore go on at length. What would make him shut up before Letterman comes on? Well, only his desire to be president would restrain his verbosity. He should know that boring the audience or hogging the stage would alienate more voters than it would attract. If, during a 2-hour-and-41-minute debate (sans time restrictions of any kind), Gore were to speak for 120 minutes (winning the time-of-possession battle and possibly earning Bill Parcell's vote), yielding a paltry 40 minutes to Bush, he would embarrass himself. If, on the other hand, Bush offered only shallow soundbites (the political equivalent of the New England Patriots' offense), he would yield the gravity advantage to Gore.

And please relieve Jim Lehrer of his debate duties. There is no need for a moderator in a debate between moderates. His questions are, well, lame. His refereeing is about as authoritative as that which we see in the World Wrestling Federation. His gentility is debilitating. His ignorance of the wide array of needs of the American people is exemplified by the narrow band of commentators on his own evening news show. If a commentator is boring, old, mainstream and white, Jim Lehrer has invited him into a panel discussion on "The News Hour." So next time, have no moderator.

How can one have a debate without a moderator? Imagine these two models: the barbershop and the kitchen table. In the first debate, have both candidates recline in barber chairs. Have real barbers shave and groom them. Have three or four folks of different ages sitting in chairs in front of them. And have them start talking. They should have no problem with the talking part. They would eventually get beyond the scripted talking points. They would confront each other's weaknesses directly. They would be forced to be civil and respectful. One might even concede a point to the other if given a chance to consider counterarguments. During the barbershop debate the American people would get a chance to see their candidates at ease, defenseless, untidy and in a uniform of a white barbershop smock (remember the arguments for school uniforms?).

The second debate would be a little more formal. It would be around a kitchen table. Again, the format would include no time restrictions, no moderator and no suits. It would just have a nice American homeowner serving cornbread muffins, tamales (a Gerald Ford test),and pitchers of ice tea (tea and its physiological effects would keep the debate from going over two hours). This time, the candidates could have substantial notes to which they could refer, perhaps on yellow paper, perhaps on a notebook computer. They discussion could be detailed and deep. Again, the candidates could direct questions and answers to each other, and the host could ask some questions or voice opinions, instead of relying on Jim Lehrer. Jim Lehrer is no Aunt Bee.

The final advantage of employing the barbershop, the kitchen table and the town hall meetings as the models for presidential debates: there is always more room in around the table for a third or a fourth. Would you like another tamale, Mr. Nader?

- Siva Vaidhyanathan is a cultural historian and media scholar in the Department of Culture and Communication at New York University. His book, "Copyrights and Copywrongs: The Rise of Intellectual Property and How it Threatens Creativity," will be published by New York University Press in 2001.