To be fair, things were not terribly different eight years ago when Governor Clinton was traipsing around the land like Joe Rock ‘n’ Roll in his caravan of buses. Clinton, in many ways, is the grand-addy of "weenie" politics, the practice of embracing the position that will make the least amount of waves in the electorate. In 1991, candidate Clinton had two messages: 1) the economy, and 2) change. This worked because people knew the economy was in the dump, and it needed changing. The American people probably would have elected an above-average candied ham if it ran with that platform.

But in some ways, Clinton was significantly different. As you recall, in 1991 Bill Clinton was the second-horse in a one-horse race. President Bush was enjoying 90 percent approval ratings due to his outstanding performance as commander in chief in the smash hit TV mini-series "The Persian Gulf War." In order to even get close to being elected, Clinton had to develop a superior policy platform, one focused on solving the nation’s problems. He did, and he won. Whatever you think of our near-lame duck, there is no doubt that his eventual clear unfolding of solvent proposals on how to rescue America’s economy were essential to his victory.

Even for all of his recent and infamous waffling, his exasperating mushiness, his chronic inability to address probing questions, and his legalistic rendering of Truth, Clinton was a model of transparency and substance as a candidate compared to the current slate. Take as Exhibit 1, America’s heretofore leading choice, Gov. George W. Bush. Bush is very popular with voters, garnering up to 60 percent support in some polls. When asked what he stands for, why they like him, or what he has done, however, 4 in10 Americans simply don’t know. This was true in Texas throughout the governor’s 1998 re-election campaign against Democrat Garry Mauro, and hasn’t changed much in the last year. One would assume that over the course of five years as governor, a higher proportion of Texans would have at least one substantive reason to support Bush. But they haven’t.

Bush is running a brilliant campaign for the current social and political context. He doesn’t have Clinton’s one-trick pony (the economy, stupid) to ride, which is most likely to his advantage. There are no major international brouhahas dominating the public’s attention, again to his advantage. Bush, therefore, is executing a values campaign, one that captivates the public imagination, plays on its fears, feels its pain (yes), and offers a fresher vision. Ironically, it is precisely "the vision thing" that the younger Bush excels at, contrary to his nuts-and-bolts father.

Values campaigns are context-neutral; they will work in almost society at any time, no matter the environment. Times of prosperity are particularly good for values campaigns, however, since the public’s attention is less focused on pocketbook issues that affect their everyday lives. With the strongest economy in 35 years and a relatively calm foreign front, America is looking for a leader who can simply maintain and extend the good times, not rock the boat. The country, it seems, is not interested in the wonkish ways of technicians like Bradley or even McCain. In a sense, what is needed is a kind of guru, someone to stand at the top of the mountain and speak spine-tingling words of motivation and encouragement. America, meet Maharishi Dubya.

Eschewing all attempts to be labeled, Bush has chosen the murky land of "compassionate conservatism" as his own. Little so far has been produced to flesh out what this really means, though Garry Trudeau’s recent statement via Doonesbury that the placement of the modifier is an implicit admission that traditional conservatism is not compassionate. On the issue of race in the workplace and schools, Bush has carved out his own position, "affirmative access." Again, Webster is dumbfounded. On the issue of issue of abortion, Bush has perfected the Clintonesque art of dual delivery, saying that he is decidedly pro-life but that "America is not ready for a repeal of Roe v. Wade," suggesting that he would do little to actively oppose legalized abortion. Indeed, when it comes to probing policy questions that try to pin him down, Bush has never met an equivocation he didn’t like.

The trouble with answering specific questions about stances on issues is that they instantly divide a candidate’s audience into supporters and opponents. The Clinton School of politics has established that if you say the right things the right way for the right amount of time, you need never alienate anyone. In business, the adage goes that the customer is always right. In modern politics, successful candidates have learned that the polls are always right. The result has been a political discourse focused on the "marshmallow middle," where no one really disagrees at all. Yes, there is too much violence in our schools. Yes, too many teenagers are getting pregnant. And certainly, most television, movies, and music are toxic to growing brains. But what, at the risk of breaching the unspeakable, can a president do about any of them?

Other branches of this approach include camouflage through generality and appeal to nostalgia. Beware of candidates who utter sweet nothings such as, "I am pro-environment and pro-business," or "I will stand up for America’s children." Such phrases are designed to resonate with everyone and offend no one, except, of course, listeners with more than one tired brain cell. No one is going to admit in public that they are anti-environment or anti-business, and no is one is going to say the hell with the kids. Generalities of this vein should be cut down like so much tall grass obscuring the horizon, and precisely worded probing questions should be offered. One that each presidential candidate should answer is, "Will you seek an increase in defense spending?" Another is, "Would you work for and sign tough campaign finance reform legislation?" What about, "What are your plans for Social Security and will you reduce spending on other social programs to pay for it?"

Candidates with little governmental experience, such as Gary Bauer, Steve Forbes, even George W. Bush make regular use of phrases like "return to," "restore," "reclaim," and "renew." These should be "rejected." No matter the direct object, such language inevitably refer to some mythical, golden age in the American past in which all families stuck together, nobody was on welfare, no one did drugs, and only married couples had sex, and they only used the missionary position. A stroke of rhetorical genius, but also a work of preposterous fiction. For proof, please read Stephanie Koontz outstanding book, "The Way We Never Were." The above amateurs must use this tactic because their bag of efficacious political tricks is empty. They have no feasible economic, foreign, or military agenda, and must rely on the fool-proof values campaign.

The functions of camouflage generality and appeal to nostalgia are to detract attention from divisive and defining discussions about substantive issues. In other words, why fight about spending on job training programs when you can get away with just talking about how big a problem welfare dependency is? The modus operandi is to speak broadly for as long as possible, becoming precise only when forced. The goal is to communicate concern without necessarily acting on it. Bush’s compassionate conservatism is modeled after this strategy, as was Clinton’s "I feel your pain" method. Since most pollsters and advisors know that the intricacies of a candidate’s policy proposals are lost on many voters, they construct campaigns that advance "messages" and "images" that lodge in voter’s heads in lieu of the proposals. Over time, voters associate, like Pavlov’s dog, the image of Bush with "compassion," or the image of Forbes with "responsibility," having never really examined the content of those labels and how they would play out in actual government. After all, the goal is to get elected, not to be president.

Voters need to be aware of this creeping political disease that seduces their hearts and souls aware from real issues, putting their intellect in suspended animation. Presidents can suggest where to spend or not spend money, appoint judges, direct military action, and welcome foreign dignitaries. Claims to affect change in areas beyond these should be first evaluated for their translatability to real policy and, if deemed out of bounds, cast aside as so much voter-fodder. With enough practice and tough lessons, candidates will learn that voters are smarter than they think we are, and abandon the habits of illusionists and evangelists.  

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