From the WSJ Opinion Archives
CAMPAIGN 2004
Didactic Dirt
The case for vicious campaigning.
Without fail, every campaign season--from the race for president of the United States to senior-class president--kicks off with a pledge from candidates to run a clean race, to talk about the issues, to rise above political infighting, yadda yadda yadda.
This leaves us with the same tired, benign drivel: "I believe in the promise of America." (Who doesn't?) "I want to focus on the issues" (Then focus already!) "I love the American people." (Can't we just be friends?)
Then a few weeks into races, when TV commercials become less about policy and more of an atomic volley back and forth between rivals, campaign-watchers act as if some sort of sacred political doctrine has been violated, characterizing "dirty campaigning" as an offense against the memory of our Founding Fathers. Or "un-American," as Teresa Heinz Kerry called it last week, just before she told a reporter asking for clarification to "shove it."
Actually, the juiciest infighting and personal political battles began with the birth of this great nation. The race between Thomas Jefferson and John Adams to succeed George Washington was a political catfight, and America got treated to a second round four years later. Andrew Jackson's campaign called John Quincy Adams "the pimp." Democratic cartoonists called Abraham Lincoln "Honest Ape." Sleaze about illegitimate births, mistresses and syphilis has been slung without mercy since the heyday of the Constitution.
But if a vice president was capable of shooting Alexander Hamilton, if a president was predisposed to Oval Office trysts, shouldn't we know that beforehand? Shouldn't we see the deepest, darkest recesses of a candidate's mind, rather than focusing on a phony smile and oversized scissors poised just so at a ribbon cutting?
I say, take the gloves off. I'm not going to whine this year about candidates not playing nice or talking too much trash to each other. This is promising to be the dirtiest campaign in years, and I don't want to miss one blood-curdling moment.
American culture tends to find politics about as exciting as going to a hot dance club with Alan Greenspan. As citizens in Afghanistan are tripping over each other just to register to vote, Americans might register if the booth is conveniently located between the ice-cold Bud and T-shirts at a Limp Bizkit concert. And when it comes to actually marching those feet down to a polling station, in marches couch-potato apathy. Secretaries of state anticipate this, sending out sample ballots and other materials to whet one's electoral appetite, all screaming "ELECTION DAY IS NOVEMBER 2--DON'T FORGET!" Meanwhile, election day is burned into the mind of the average guy on a Kabul street.
So you could say that the first benefit of dirty campaigning is getting the average Joe Voter to care. Here are the hard facts: About 101 million people voted in the 2000 presidential election. This year, the "American Idol 3" finale drew some 65 million votes. Even accounting for teenage serial phone dialers, that says something, such as how the televised coverage of 2000's party conventions was handily voted off the Nielsen island by reality-TV godfather "Survivor." So aside from making the candidates eat bugs à la "Fear Factor," these nomination spectacles will not hook the glazy-eyed millions who didn't vote.
But dirt might. How many people, after all, pick the G-rated movie at the cineplex?
Anybody who hangs around politics knows it's not as boring as people think, and there's no drama quite like it. But like the difference between rich topsoil and dry, crunchy ground, there is good dirt and bad dirt. Bad dirt is making cracks about a candidate's wife's weight. Good dirt is anything that draws out the character of the candidate, everything we don't see as they happily flip flapjacks at a Midwest diner for TV cameras. Good dirt brings to attention an issue that affects the voters, and the news hook is all in the details: "He took confidential documents? Hmm. He stuffed them where? Wow!" Not convinced? Blue dress. Cigars. 'Nuff said.
California's Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger--a k a the "Terminator"--was called the "Gropenator" by Democrats after allegations of movie-set groping surfaced during the recall campaign (before he became the "Governator"). He let the dirt roll off, admitting there had frat-boy behavior in his past and leaving it at that. The public weighed the info and decided to vote him in. So months later, as Democratic legislators sat as a big, stubborn block in the way of passing a state budget on time (as usual), Mr. Schwarzenegger ditched the cozy kaffeeklatches with state Senate leader John Burton and hit the road to convince everyday Californians the importance of the boring budget battle. At one stop, Arnold called these stonewalling legislators "girlie-men." People cheered. Democrats sulked and accused the governor of being homophobic, misogynistic, insensitive, immature, a creep, etc.
The next morning, everyone knew about the state budget crisis. The governor and Democratic lawmakers soon struck an agreement. All it took was a gentle flick of mud.
The best part of a down-and-dirty campaign, though, is getting to know the real candidates, and here we differentiate the dirt that blows off from the dirt that sticks, the outright lies from the truth that hurts.
I remember being in an eighth-grade social studies class before the 1988 election, and the teacher asking what Michael Dukakis was like. "He's a card-carrying member of the ACLU!" I blurted out with obvious distaste. My classmates looked confused, my teacher looked at me as if I was high, but that one jab from the elder Bush's campaign is what stuck with a 13-year-old who spent more time listening to hip-hop and hair bands than the news.
John Kerry wants to present himself as a distinguished gentleman from Massachusetts--someone who can relate to the everyday, common man who married a ketchup fortune--and he executed a well-scripted convention production. He got down and dirty in the primaries with the man he eventually picked as his running mate, painting John Edwards as a political infant, slamming him on taxes, trade, health care, you name it. As politics makes strange bedfellows, now they're like two honeymooners--tossing a football, giving and getting liberal amounts of hugs. Mr. Kerry and Mr. Edwards swear they've swallowed their personal differences and now focus that energy on George W. Bush.
Mr. Kerry's allies include 12-year-old Ilana Wexler, the Kids for Kerry founder, who spoke at the Democratic National Convention and has proposed a "no-name-calling day" for candidates. Never mind that in recent months we've heard the most virulent bashing and demonization of our commander in chief coming from this girl's party of choice.
Not that Mr. Bush needs any pity. This Texan could hogtie Mr. Kerry and pop an O'Doul's over his squirming body. But who needs to when you've got Dick Cheney keeping it real--and interesting? After invoking the F-word in a private, overheard response to Sen. Patrick Leahy, he commented that it felt good, but also wouldn't be indicative of the language he normally uses. Honestly, I wouldn't care if Mr. Cheney invented the F-word. Even with a bad ticker, you know he could take it to any of those politicos like an Iron Chef to a flopping fish.
And why is this important? Because I don't want a leader who will invite Osama bin Laden to sit down for group therapy and talk about why he wants to destroy the United States; I want a leader who will take the fight to al Qaeda and its cronies regardless of what France thinks. I want a candidate who is less concerned about whether the world wants to come out and play than about dirty bombs dropping on our doorstep. Tough times take a tough hombre who can roll with the punches and fight back when necessary, and isn't afraid of violating some unwritten code by informing us of his opponent's flaws.
The drawback to dirty campaigning is that the ignorant will buy some false dirt as truth. But then you step into the fray with a fiery retort, and let the verbal bullets fly. If a candidate has the tendency to lie through his teeth, better to let it come out now than later. If there is a sordid past lurking behind the coiffed man, draw it out and let the voters decide if this personal issue matters in his ability to lead. Don't write off dirty campaigning as a fault of the weak. It's an American tradition that sometimes reveals valuable information.
So let the games begin. And the campaigns are probably one step ahead of me. An Amazon.com search for the book "Dirty Political Tricks" by "Anonymous" revealed only one left in stock--and "more on the way."
Ms. Johnson is a journalist and screenwriter in Southern California.
