Mugger: There's No Shame in Tracking Political Candidates

One of the more irksome themes of this summer is the complaint among those mainstream journalists who comprise what’s called the “commentariat” or “punditocracy,” that presidential campaigns begin earlier and earlier every four years. This is not only condescending, but dishonest as well. If, in a fantasy world, the thousands of key-punchers who deride the number of polls and fund-raising totals released more than a year before the actual election, they could choose to ignore the entire process. In this scenario, no matter how desperately Mitt Romney attempts to become a household name through advertisements and attending public forums in Iowa and New Hampshire, if the media wasn’t there to cover every syllable the man utters, few Americans would even know the man existed.

The reality is that political reporters and columnists, and their editors, are thrilled with the “Permanent Campaign,” regardless of how much they grouse about lousy hotel accommodations and mind-numbing speeches. It’s a lot more fun, I imagine, than trying to decipher for readers the tiny print of a Congressional farm bill or pontificating about yet another rambling speech by Sen. Robert Byrd about the majesty of the institution he’s served in since about 1895.

I don’t mean to pick on The New Yorker’s Hendrik Hertzberg, a former speechwriter for Jimmy Carter and splendid writer—whether or not you agree with his politics—but his “Comment” in last week’s issue is a fitting example of this annoying mindset in the media. He begins: “What might be called the Long Campaign has created a demand for news of political conflict, and that demand is being duly supplied.” Where is this “demand” coming from? Certainly the majority of my friends and neighbors, most of whom dutifully vote in even minor elections, had about as much instinctive interest in the results of the Aug. 11 GOP straw poll in Iowa as they do in reading a story that “preppy fashion” is once again back in style.

Hertzberg continues: “At this preposterously early date in the 2004 election cycle, the candidates for the Democratic Presidential nomination had participated in exactly one ‘debate,’ as, for lack of a better word, these overpopulated, overmoderated, your-time-is-up Q&A panels are called. Two cycles ago it was zero debates. This time around, it’s—already!—eight.” A fair point, but then Hertzberg—who’s come to peace with this accelerated process—goes on to spend the remainder of his space about the squabbles, catty and substantive, between Sens. Clinton and Obama.

No one, of course, forced Hertzberg to tackle this topic and, if he sincerely believes that there’s entirely too much political coverage in magazines like The New Yorker and all the elite dailies he might’ve chosen to write instead about traffic congestion taxes in New York or a favorite type of Spanish olive he’d discovered.

Later in the issue, Peter J. Boyer, who apparently isn’t appalled by all-politics-all-the-time, contributes an immense profile of Rudy Giuliani—some 14,000 words—with a headline you’d expect (“Mayberry Man”) from a “blue state of mind” magazine. Not much new ground was tilled by Boyer, as he seems surprised that Rudy is still atop national (and some state) polls and is regarded as the most electable man in a fairly weak GOP field.

Boyer says, “When Giuliani’s tenure as mayor ended, in 2002, he left behind a city that was grateful, and more than a little relieved to see him go.” He explains that there was only so much nasty personal drama and hectoring (cracking down on jaywalkers and squeegee men, for example) that residents were willing to put up with. Boyer doesn’t bother to mention that Giuliani’s successor, Michael Bloomberg, trumps him mightily in the promotion of “nanny state” initiatives. Personally, I preferred Rudy’s courageous (especially compared to Bill Clinton) denunciation of Yassir Arafat to Bloomberg’s mission to dictate what New Yorkers can and can’t eat.

In any case, I enjoyed the article and also wonder whether Giuliani’s creepy personality will wear thin among the electorate at large. It’s disgraceful, for example, that he’s joined the pandering to social conservatives on the topic of illegal immigration, where at one time he held a sensible view on the controversial matter. And that’s just one example of why—entertainment value aside (the presidential campaign reminds me of the British television show “Hustle”)—in this era of the “Long Campaign” it is important that those interested in politics are given the opportunity to hear and read everything about potential presidents. As an onlooker, I want to know how the candidates differ on foreign policy, economics and immigration because what they say certainly frames today’s conversation.

Just last week, syndicated columnist Michelle Malkin, echoing the intellectually-gone-to-seed Newt Gingrich, blamed the heinous killings of three students in Newark on porous borders, as if that’s the cause of all homicides today. This is deceitful hysteria at its most blatant: Look at the drug-related murders in Baltimore and Detroit, say, and you’ll find that the vast majority of criminals are U.S. citizens.

As I said, it’s not just Hertzberg moaning about all the debates and polls well before next year’s election. Gail Collins, a more bland yet serious alternative to Maureen Dowd on the Times’ op-ed page has written column after column about the Democratic and Republican candidates, but on Aug. 11 in a piece datelined Des Moines, she felt compelled to make the following observation. “There are eight Republicans campaigning here, and if you can name them all you need to re-examine your priorities.”

Maybe I’m missing something. At a time when most college kids—let alone supposedly educated adults—can’t identify more than a couple Supreme Court justices, have trouble naming all 50 states in the country and confuse the Civil and Revolutionary Wars, you’d think Collins would applaud those readers who are keeping abreast of the campaign.

Collins, Hertzberg and their colleagues ought to knock off the condescending comments and just write about politics—or not—without the mock apologies. After all, it’s only because of explosion in technology that Americans are privy to so much information about Hillary and Rudy and Mitt and Elizabeth Edwards. John F. Kennedy and his family were planning his 1960 presidential run several years in advance—no different than today’s crop of contenders—but it was mostly kept private from citizens because of the lack of media outlets. Were he running today, JFK would bask (and probably shine) in his YouTube moments.