In the current issue of The National Interest, distinguished neoconservative scholar Francis Fukuyama offered a critical assessment of a recent address given by neoconservative psychologist-turned-hack Charles Krauthammer. The speech, wrote Fukuyama, was “strangely disconnected from reality. Reading Krauthammer, one gets the impression that the Iraq War -- the archetypical application of American unipolarity -- had been an unqualified success, with all of the assumptions and expectations on which the war had been based fully vindicated. There is not the slightest nod towards the new empirical facts that have emerged in the last year or so: the failure to find weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, the virulent and steadily mounting anti-Americanism throughout the Middle East, the growing insurgency in Iraq, the fact that no strong democratic leadership had emerged there, the enormous financial and growing human cost of the war, the failure to leverage the war to make progress on the Israeli-Palestinian front, and the fact that America's fellow democratic allies had by and large failed to fall in line and legitimate American actions ex post.”
Much the same could be said of George W. Bush's performance at the debate last night in Florida, with one important difference: Krauthammer, at least when I've seen him, manages to exhibit a certain seriousness of purpose in his demeanor and tone; with Bush, the disconnection from reality seeps from every pore, from every inappropriate pause, from every misplaced emphasis, from every moment of staring blankly into space while his opponent speaks. The easygoing, somewhat charming Bush of the 2000 campaign is gone. So, too, is the moralistic, crusading Bush of the address to Congress after the September 11 attacks. We don't even get the Bush of the catastrophic 9-11 attacks themselves, where a disoriented president at least seemed genuinely disturbed by the events of the day.
Last night's Bush looked more like the victim of a psychopharmacological experiment gone awry -- the result of a botched effort to create the speechwriter's dream candidate, the one who sticks to the professionally written script come what may, an effect achieved only by shutting down the neural pathways that might allow the outside world to impinge upon his psyche. He reminds me of Zack Braff's character in Garden State, driving off from the gas station with the nozzle still stuck in his tank, presumably spilling fuel everywhere. Except that was funny. It was a gas station in a movie. This was a presidential debate. And not just a presidential debate but a token of the manner in which the president has conducted himself in office since beginning the march to Baghdad.
Jim Lehrer seemed strangely uninterested in what the two candidates propose to do about the present situation in Iraq, but the difference was nevertheless clear. John Kerry, in short, proposes to do differently in the future what he would have done differently in the past: advance the president's highly uncontroversial goals (less terrorism, more freedom, more safety) through methods that bear some relationship to empirical reality. Bush proposes to continue putting forward policies well-suited to achieving these goals only in the fantasy world he apparently inhabits, the one in which he's made no mistakes in the three years since 9-11 and everything is sunny in Baghdad. As a re-election strategy it might work, but it is a dangerous path. The president says he will not permit Iran to acquire nuclear weapons, a worthy goal. But how does he propose to achieve that goal? Will it have to be by force?
Whether or not the use of force looks like a preferable option depends entirely on what lessons one has learned from Iraq. If you believe, as the president maintains, that there is nothing to be regretted in the way he's conducted the war so far, and that continuing on this path will put us on a course to victory, then force looks like a pretty good option. If you live in the real world, however, it doesn't look so hot at all. Fortunately for the president, neither he nor his daughters will need to bear the burdens of service if he miscalculates once again.
-- Matthew Yglesias
Putting the Moderate in Moderator
Nobody hates Jim Lehrer. He's a serious guy who's clearly devoted to setting conditions for as substantive and edifying a debate as possible. He's no preener, nor is he a camera hog. But his humility as a moderator is less refreshing than it is frustrating. That's because his idea of humility is to ask open-ended questions that merely serve as invitations for candidates to regurgitate their platforms and talking points. The functional bias of such an approach in this race is unmistakable. This year, one candidate, and not the other, is staking his campaign on a race devoid of facts -- a race consumed by abstractions, intangibles, and that ultimate ineffability, “character.” Last night, Lehrer helped that candidate, and not the other, by offering a line of questioning that was itself devoid of facts.
Iraq existed in Lehrer's debate last night in rather the same way that Iraq exists for the president's re-election campaign: as an abstract measuring stick, a test of resolve and leadership and judgment. Secondarily, it's a handy pretext by which to expound on a vision of the general foreign-policy principles and international goals one wants to see shape U.S. action in the future. What Iraq was not, under Lehrer's studiously evenhanded and humble stewardship as moderator, was an urgent, immediate reality, an emergency. It was not a presently unfolding situation on the ground that had to be confronted, and could not be wished away. Iraq was an issue. It wasn't a fact.
Lehrer asked 18 specific questions over the course of last night's debate. Of those 18, about eight pertained chiefly to the war in Iraq. Of those eight, one question actually contained within it a single, specific, factual piece of data: the number of U.S. fatalities so far during the occupation (1,052). Just that single fact about Iraq, and no other, over the course of 90 minutes of questioning. The questions themselves tended to all but require abstract answers. They were either “what is your plan?” questions, for which neither candidate would be willing or able to provide any specifics; philosophical questions about preemptive war as a doctrine; or fairly open-ended “was it worth it?” questions, which any fool could predict the answers to in advance.
Lehrer asked no direct, specific questions of our commander in chief that included explicit reference to, say, the dismal current assessments of the state of the war from outside organizations as well as the president's own intelligence estimate. Or specific enumeration of the repeated operations from which those “trained” Iraqi forces that George W. Bush is so hopeful about have laid down their guns and fled. Or the United States' shifting tactics during the April offensive against Fallujah. Or the United States' shifting tactics with regard to Muqtada al-Sadr throughout the past half-year. Or the billions of dollars in reconstruction money that hasn't found its way into actual reconstruction projects. Or the current and seemingly unstoppable escalation of violence against American, international, and Iraqi civilians. Or specific data illustrating the U.S. military's severe manpower shortage and perilous overstretch of resources.
One could go on.
We've heard that Lehrer had spent long hours alone in the past days, poring over background material and constructing his line of questioning. That's great. But mightn't he have found the space in the last minute to fit in just one question making reference to the extraordinary headlines we saw yesterday -- say, a mention of the dozens killed in coordinated car bombings yesterday morning, or the new, dramatic offensive into Samara we seem to have launched all of a sudden?
What Lehrer seemed most allergic to is the obvious “gotcha” question. Perhaps his thinking was that it was up to Kerry, not the moderator, to raise all the factual evidence of catastrophe in Iraq. For his part, Kerry did a decent if hardly superb job conveying those facts. But should reality itself really be left solely to the challenger to address?
One of the basic dynamics of this campaign as it's shaped up in the last few months is that the president benefits to the degree that the race is framed around abstractions, while the challenger benefits to the degree that reality -- as it happens on the ground here at home and, especially, in Iraq -- is allowed to seep into the debate. Seen in that light, Jim Lehrer did the president a favor last night.
-- Sam Rosenfeld
For weeks, some of us at The American Prospect have complained that Kerry hadn't settled on a uniform characterization of Bush. Everybody has known for months the lines upon which the Bush-Cheney campaign had chosen to demonize Kerry. (I think it has something to do with "flip-flopping," or, as the dignified statesmen like to call it, "sending mixed messages.") But it wasn't until last night that Kerry showed voters the George W. Bush he wanted them to see: headstrong, irrational, and -- most importantly -- lacking in judgment. Bush the Bullheaded, yes, but more devastatingly, Bush the Blunderful.
Bush “rushed the war in Iraq.” He “pushed our allies aside.” He failed to plan, and he failed to plan, and he failed to plan. And the result of single-mindedly charging into a war against the wrong enemy, a war that did not then need to be fought, was clear: “It's getting worse by the day,” Kerry said. “More soldiers killed in June than before. More in July than June. More in August than July. More in September than August.”
Just as Bush welded together two distinct criticisms -- combining the “mixed messages” of scare-mongering with the stolen fight-song refrain of “wrong (war), wrong (place), wrong (time)” -- Kerry matched the bullheaded with the blunderful to turn Bush's supposed strength, his resolve, into his damning flaw. “This issue of certainty,” Kerry said. “It's one thing to be certain, but you can be certain and wrong.”
The question is whether Kerry's brush will color the perceptions that Bush has aimed to leave behind. As the stoplights turned to red, time and time again, Bush glared into the camera and expressed his determination. “If we lose our will, we lose; but if we remain strong and resolute, we will defeat this enemy,” he ended one set of remarks. “The best way to protection is to stay on the offense,” ended another. He closed his next comment with, “We're doing everything we can at home, but you better have a president who chases those terrorists down and brings them to justice before they hurt us again.”
This president, the Bush that Bush wanted voters to see, is similar to the one Kerry tried to define. Assuming that this election is decided on how attuned the two campaigns are to the American mood (rather than, say, how many residents of East St. Louis can be dissuaded from showing up on November 2), these are the competing claims on which the race will be decided. Bush's candidacy relies on the assumption that as long as American troops are dying in a foreign country, and as long as terrorist plots are firmly lodged at the forefront of American fears, voters will prefer a continued, even unchecked, offensive. Kerry campaigns according to a loftier view of the public's beliefs: that Americans recognize the difference between bluster and strategy, and prefer viable solutions to incensed reactions. Which candidate is right remains to be seen.
-- Jeffrey Dubner
First things first: John Kerry is significantly taller than George W. Bush. But last night, millions of unknowing Americans tuned in and saw a split-screen image of the pair looking exactly the same height.
Leave it to FOX News to distort the truth. The network was charged with camera control for the entire media during the debate tonight, so no matter which network you watched it on, the cameras were run by FOX's crew. The camera angle on Kerry focused from his chest upward, keeping the podium out of sight. But the Bush shot left the top four or so inches of the podium in the frame -- thus rendering the two men vertical equals.
Bush needed all the help he could get in the authoritative department last night. His traditional hunkered stance at the podium left him looking narrow and slight, not thoughtful and intense as was probably intended. And try as he might, Bush cannot wipe his trademark grimace-smirk (“smirmace,” if you will) off his face when someone dares to take him on. As was expected, Bush clung to his talking points and catchphrases, occasionally spitting out his words. Still pushing the Kerry-as-flip-flopper point, Bush made 10 references to the senator's supposed mixed messages or signals, and closed his remarks on that note. And though Bush has never been quick with facts and figures, he never forgets a name. Tonight he rattled off the names of dignitaries and military widows, even referring to Russian President Vladimir Putin by his first name (twice).
But Bush also stumbled on a couple of words and phrases, referring to the mullahs in Iran as “moo-lahs” and calling the terrorists “a group of folks.” And in a moment of true presidential gravitas, Bush recalled his bafflement at the velocity of the fall of Baghdad. “I mean, we thought we'd whip more of them going in,” he said.
But if the president was clumsy and agitated during the debate, his closing remarks were as smooth as butter. Goodbye George W. Bush, hello Michael Gerson. Rarely do we get to see the president transition from unscripted remarks to prepared text -- and the difference is jarring. Gerson's a crack speechwriter, and he managed tonight to weave a little Bible talk into this debate about national security. “I believe in the transformational power of liberty,” Bush intoned. “We've climbed the mighty mountain. I see the valley below, and it's a valley of peace.”
Bush's message to voters: “Don't forget I really like Jesus.”
But while Bush stammered and raised his voice to drive home a point, Kerry stayed cool and answered most of Jim Lehrer's questions authoritatively and incisively. Kerry has a good memory for facts and data to support his positions, and tonight he ably wove those into his remarks. But best of all, Kerry named He Whom Bush Wishes To Forget: Osama bin Laden. Kerry said bin Laden's name nine times throughout the debate. In his sharpest rebuttal of the evening, Kerry lashed Bush's nebulous assertion that Saddam Hussein was “the enemy that attacked us.” Bush, on the other hand, tripped up on bin Laden's name, just as Donald Rumsfeld did three weeks ago, arguing that “of course we're after Saddam Hussein -- I mean bin Laden.”
So much for never forgetting a name.
-- Ayelish McGarvey
In the long week leading up to last night's debate, George Farah, author of No Debate and executive director of OpenDebates.org, appeared on no fewer than 11 television programs warning viewers that the debates would be little more than glorified press conferences in which both candidates would simply regurgitate their memorized talking points. To prove his point, Farah often cited the lengthy list of debate rules that were negotiated by both campaigns under the auspices of the Commission on Presidential Debates.
From the size of the paper on which the candidates can scribble notes to the height of the podiums, the 32-page “Memorandum of Understanding” outlines in excruciating detail much of the minutiae of the protocol surrounding last night's debate. To the chagrin of the networks, one set of rules even purported to regulate the kinds of camera angles that could be broadcast. To its credit, FOX News, which operated the camera pool last night, publicly refused to follow these statutes of the memorandum. (The memorandum explicitly outlawed split screens or cutaways to the candidate who is not speaking. FOX, with the other networks' support, rightly abandoned this rule.)
Of all the rules of the debates, however, perhaps none is more important -- or more easily violated -- than the stipulations that candidates cannot pose direct questions to each other. Bush and Kerry could have asked rhetorical questions with the hope that the moderator would pick up on the point and direct the opponent to answer it. Given the stifling rules of this debate, this was spontaneity's single glimmer of hope, yet neither candidate ever put Lehrer on the spot to do such a thing. In fact, the only real deviance from the rules occurred during that awkward moment in which Kerry and Bush briefly chitchatted about the Bush twins. “I'm trying to put a leash on them,” said Bush in a rather benign interruption.
Before the debate, Paul Begala appeared on Anderson Cooper's CNN program and blamed the Bush campaign for wanting such an overregulated and scripted event. He argued, quite plausibly, that the only way the Kerry campaign could persuade the Bush campaign to participate in three debates was if Kerry acquiesced to a bevy of rules that would have the effect of limiting the need for Bush to think on his feet. This may be true, but the Kerry campaign still bears some responsibility signing on to the final agreement.
No one was expecting Lincoln-Douglass redux last night, but when the only real unscripted moment between the two candidates involves banter about the president's daughters, it ought to signal the disservice done to the public interest by these intense regulations.
-- Mark Goldberg
