As Bush continued his answer, Gore stood up, and started to walk across the stage, directly toward his opponent, almost menacingly. Unaware of Gore's move, Bush continued:
…It's not only what's your philosophy and what's your position on issues, but can you get things done?
In the middle of his statement, Bush turned to see Gore approaching (Figure 9.4).
Figure 9.4. Al Gore approaches George W. Bush.
Bush paused for a beat, then nodded at Gore and smiled, evoking titters from the audience. Then, Bush turned back to the audience and said:
And I believe I can.
The audience titters gave way to laughter. Gore stopped in front of Bush and forced a broad smile that stood in sharp contrast to his rigid body language and insisted:
What about the Dingle-Norwood bill?
Lehrer interceded.
All right. We're going to go now to another…
Bush said:
I'm not quite through. Let me finish.
Lehrer acceded.
All right. Go…
Bush went on:
I talked about the principles and the issues that I think are important in a patients' bill of rights. It's kind of [a] Washington, D.C. focus. Well, it's in this committee or it's got this sponsor. If I'm the president, we're going to have emergency room care, we'll have gag orders, we'll have direct access to OB/GYN. People will be able to take their HMO insurance company to court. That's what I've done in Texas and that's the kind of leadership style I'll bring to Washington. [9.8]
George W. Bush did to Al Gore what Al Gore had done to Ross Perot: He countered hostility with agility and neutralized his opponent. To add insult to Gore's injury, Bush, with a virtual free pass from the moderator, concluded his exchange with strong Topspin; an advantage he neglected to take later in that same debate in his exchange with Lisa Kee.
A The Wall Street Journal/NBC News poll about the effects of the debate on public opinion gave George W. Bush a seven point advantage over Al Gore. [9.9]
How did this upset occur? How was the underdog able to give the favorite a run for his money? The answer lies in a dynamic that often occurs in a contest of mismatched opponents: lower expectations. All the underdog has to do is show up and not foul up. All George W. Bush had to do was avoid mistakes; anything less than a total thrashing by Gore would be a success for Bush. In fact, the Bush team, intentionally or not, presaged its debate strategy by naming its 2000 campaign jet airplane, "Great Expectations."
The debates were Al Gore's to lose and, given his previous successes and his own great expectations…he did. Of course, George W. Bush did become the president in an election so tight the Supreme Court had to decide the disputed vote in the swing state of Florida, but imagine if Al Gore had dominated the debates as he was expected to?
In the first debate, Gore abandoned agility and became the assailant. In the second, he over-compensated the opposite way into passivity. By the third, in trying to reassert his power, he overshot his mark, lost his touch…and control.
Gore beat his two previous opponents with the agility of a judo master. He made Ross Perot the assailant by provoking his volatile temperament with interruptions, and he threw Jack Kemp off balance by puncturing his jock charm with self-deprecating humor. When Gore made his forceful "in-your-face" move on George W. Bush, Gore became the attacker. When Bush smiled at Gore's menacing approach, he turned Gore's own former weapon against him; the weapon you would do well to learn…agility counters force.
You would do well to learn: agility counters force.
Agility and Force: 2004
By the time President George W. Bush and Senator John F. Kerry met for the first of their three scheduled debates, each of them had staked out a reputation as a formidable debater. The president by virtue of his victory over Al Gore four years earlier; and the senator, a champion debater since his student days at St. Paul's prep school and Yale University, had honed his skills on floor of the U.S. Senate for 20 years. The two men were, by most rhetorical standards, considered equals.
Moreover, the grueling political campaign of that summer…one of the most polarized in the history of presidential elections…had etched their diametrically divergent platforms indelibly. Both of them had sharpened their positions on key issues and had delivered them many times over. Both of them were also highly skilled at Topspin: repeatedly making calls to action by asking for the vote, their Point B, and repeatedly pointing out how that vote would bring security, tax relief, health care, and the like, to the electorate, their WIIFYs. However, there were several other factors in play in their debates, having to do with agility and force.
After nearly half a century, the accumulated intelligence about televised political debates had grown to a canon of enormous proportions. The respective Bush and Kerry committees, determined to learn from history and avoid mistakes, negotiated for months to establish a set of intricate guidelines. They finally came to terms in a Memorandum of Understanding that ran 32 pages and covered everything from the sublime, the rules of engagement, to the ridiculous, their notepaper, pens, and pencils.
Echoes of history reverberated behind every stipulation: control of the studio temperature to avoid a repeat of the perspiration that betrayed Richard Nixon; control of the town-hall audience microphones to avoid a follow-on question like that of Marisa Hall; a system of warning lights (green at 30 seconds, yellow at 15 seconds, red at 5 and flashing red to stop) installed on each lectern to avoid the difficulties Jack Kemp had with time; and a ban on television-camera reaction shots to avoid images of a candidate looking at his wristwatch as did George H. Bush or showing disdain for his opponent's remarks as did Al Gore. Every aspect of the debates was covered in excruciating detail, right down to the exact positions and heights (50 inches) of the podiums.
This latter specification was to boomerang against George W. Bush in the first debate on September 30, 2004, at the University of Miami in Coral Gables, Florida. The podiums were to be of equal heights, but the candidates were not. John Kerry is 6'4", and George W. Bush is 5'11", which caused the incumbent to hunch over his lectern, while the tall senator stood erect and free of his. The presenter behavior/audience perception dynamic reared its forceful head and struck George W. Bush between the shoulder blades: The President looked challenged, and the challenger looked presidential (Figure 9.5).
Figure 9.5. John Kerry debates George W. Bush.
The timing system also worked against the incumbent and for the challenger. With the warning lights in constant view of the 62.5 million people in the television audience, the president, on several occasions, ran out of things to say while the yellow light was on, leaving 15 precious seconds unused, during which he might have added a supporting point. Worse still, when he stopped speaking, his voice hung in midair, making him appear uncertain.
The most glaring of these instances came late in the debate, in his response to a question about his relationship with Vladimir Putin, the Russian president. The American president started his answer briskly, but half way through, he began to slow down and to punctuate his words with long pauses and repeated "Uhs."
I've got a good relation with Vladimir. And it's important that we do have a good relation, because that enables me to better…uh…comment to him, and to better to discuss with him, some of the decisions he makes. I found that, in this world, that…uh…that it's important to establish good personal relationships with people so that when you have disagreements, you're able to disagree in a way that…uh…is effective. And so I've told him my opinion.
I look forward to discussing it more with him, as time goes on…uh…Russia is a country in transition… uh…Vladimir is…uh…going to have to make some hard choices. And I think it's very important for the American president, as well as other Western leaders, to remind him of the great benefits of democracy, that democracy… uh…will best…uh…help the people realize their hopes and aspirations and dreams. And…uh…I will continue working with him over t
he next four years.
When the president concluded, the yellow light was still lit.
Conversely, the senator, who had developed a reputation as being long-winded, was able to control the length of his statements with the timing lights, a skill he had sharpened in four full 90-minute practice sessions just prior to the debate. As part of his practice, he also learned to punctuate his statements by finishing them succinctly, often with Topspin, just as the red light lit.
John Kerry also used Topspin to punctuate…and puncture…one of his opponent's primary rhetorical themes. Throughout the campaign, Bush had disparaged Kerry's record of shifting policies and repeatedly labeled them "flip-flopping." In that first debate, the president hammered home this theme at least eight times, accusing the senator of "changing positions," "inconsistency," "mixed signals," or "mixed messages," culminating in one forceful fusillade:
You cannot lead if you send mixed messages. Mixed messages send the wrong signals to our troops. Mixed messages send the wrong signals to our allies. Mixed messages send the wrong signals to the Iraqi citizens.
One of John Kerry's primary slogans, repeated many times over on the campaign trail, was that the "W" in George W. Bush's name "stands for wrong. Wrong choices, wrong direction for America." When the senator's turn came to reply to his opponent's fusillade, he countered it with a swift burst of Topspin:
It's one thing to be certain, but you can be certain and be wrong.
At another point in the debate, Kerry used Topspin again to counteract the flip-flopping label. He did it during an exchange that began when the president seized the opportunity to once again remind the 62.5 million viewers about the senator's bete noir that you read about in Chapter 7.
He voted against the $87-billion supplemental to provide equipment for our troops, and then said he actually did vote for it before he voted against it. Not what a commander in chief does when you're trying to lead troops.
The moderator, Jim Lehrer, gave the floor back to John Kerry,
Senator Kerry, 30 seconds.
Kerry began his rebuttal by taking responsibility.
Well, you know, when I talked about the $87 billion, I made a mistake in how I talk about the war…
Then he concluded with Topspin,
…But the president made a mistake in invading Iraq. Which is worse?
The Topspin worked: The statement was played and replayed as a sound bite on the television news programs. Unfortunately, in another exchange just a few moments later, the senator reverted to form when Jim Lehrer asked him:
Are Americans now dying in Iraq for a mistake?
Mr. Kerry replied,
No.
By contradicting himself, in effect, he admitted to his tragic flaw, and shot himself in the foot.[9.10]
George W. Bush almost shot himself in the foot with the recurrence of the specter of the dreaded reaction shot. The television broadcasters…including Fox News, the openly pro-Bush cable channel, that provided the pool cameras for all the networks…got around the campaign committees' prohibition on such shots by using a split screen. For most of the debate, all the channels showed both candidates, so that, while one was speaking, the other's reactions were clearly visible.
These split screens proved to be George W. Bush's own bete noir. In an eerie echo of his own debate with Al Gore four years earlier, it was now the president who repeatedly expressed displeasure while his opponent was speaking. This time, it was with disdainful scowls, impatient frowns, and angry grimaces (Figure 9.6).
Figure 9.6. George W. Bush scowls at John Kerry.
In an equally eerie echo, the television cameras captured Bush's scorn, but this time, it was the Democratic party that leapt to the fore: Within 24 hours after the debate, it posted on its website a page called "Faces of Frustration," which linked to a 43-second video sequence of 14 rapidly cut shots of George W. Bush's peevish looks.[*]
The public reaction to the president's behavior was instant and dramatic. According to a Gallup Poll taken immediately after the debate, Kerry won by 53% to Bush's 37%. [9.11] Four days later, Gallup reported that Kerry, who had fallen behind Bush in the national preference polls since the Republican National Convention in early September, had pulled even at 49% to 49%. [9.12]
According to virtually every knowledgeable political opinion, Bush's negative behavior had damaged his own cause. One political analyst said, "The Bush Scowl is destined to take its place with the Gore Sigh and the Dean Scream." [9.13] The latter reference to Howard Dean's impassioned concession speech following his loss in the 2004 Iowa Caucuses that was widely attributed to be the cause of the subsequent failure of his candidacy. The Scowl, The Sigh, and The Scream are all counter to the biblical advice to be slow to anger.
It was the very office he was seeking to renew that tripped up George W. Bush. As the son of a president and the grandson of a senator, he managed his first term as a political aristocrat. During the 2004 campaign, a flood of books hit the market with insider accounts of the Bush Oval office. Many of them depicted him as a man living in an insulated capsule, constantly surrounded by phalanxes of protective aides who reverently called him "Sir," and rarely disagreed with him. Those who did were met with his disdain or wrath. In a way, he had been functioning as an omnipotent CEO of the nation, in much the same manner as Ross Perot had functioned in his business.
Furthermore, George W. Bush had held fewer press conferences than any other president in history, thereby minimizing his exposure to tough questions from the press. Finally, all his appearances in his campaign for reelection were to pre-screened by audiences who were already ardent supporters. By the time he stepped into the arena with John Kerry, George W. Bush was a man unaccustomed to being challenged. Therefore, when Kerry took him to task in front of a huge television audience, much as Al Gore had taken Ross Perot to task, Bush, like Perot, met force with force.
For the second debate, George W. Bush turned back to agility for damage control. On October 8, 2004, he met his opponent at Washington University in St. Louis, Missouri. One of the questions was about nuclear proliferation. Senator Kerry, who answered first, was critical of the president's policies.
…the president is moving to the creation of our own bunker-busting nuclear weapon. It's very hard to get other countries to give up their weapons when you're busy developing a new one. I'm going to lead the world in the greatest counterproliferation effort. And if we have to get tough with Iran, believe me, we will get tough.
When President Bush's turn came, in an attempt to lighten matters, he said:
That answer almost made me want to scowl.[9.14]
President Bush turned to agility again in their third and final match on October 13, 2004, at Arizona State University in Tempe, Arizona. The moderator, Bob Schieffer of CBS, asked both candidates a question about their wives.
What is the most important thing you've learned from these strong women?
George W. Bush responded:
To listen to them.
The audience laughed. Then, the president used the laughter to defuse the still-lingering after-effect of his peevish performance in the first debate by adding,
To stand up straight and not scowl. [9.15]
However, that second debate in St. Louis produced yet another eerie echo of history. This time, the resonance was with Al Gore's notorious "in-your-face" move during the town hall format four years earlier. In the 2004 version of the same format, one of the citizens in the audience, Daniel Farley, asked both candidates a question about reinstituting the draft. The president answered first, and then the Senator took his turn. Mr. Kerry concluded his answer with the following words:
We're going to build alliances. We're not going to go unilaterally. We're not going to go alone like this president did.
The moderator, Charles Gibson of ABC News, said:
Mr. President, let's extend for a minute…
Suddenly, George W. Bush jumped from his seat, thrust his forefinger into the air, and
started striding toward Gibson, saying,
Let me just—I've got to answer this.
Gibson, trying to set up a rebuttal, said:
Exactly. And with Reservists being held on duty…
Overriding Gibson's words, Bush continued his aggressive stride. As he did, he thrust out his left arm and gestured toward Kerry.
Let me answer what he just said, about around the world.
At that moment, the television image cut to a reverse angle to show a startled Gibson (and equally startled audience members behind him) with Bush's agitated hand waving up and down in the foreground (Figure 9.7).
Figure 9.7. George W. Bush approaches Charles Gibson.
Trying to assert control of the debate, Gibson said,
Well, I want to get into the issue of the back-door draft…
Overriding Gibson's words again and gathering momentum, Bush abruptly turned his back on the moderator and swung around to address the town-hall audience, his voice ringing with scorn.
You tell Tony Blair we're going alone. Tell Tony Blair we're going alone. Tell Silvio Berlusconi we're going alone. Tell Aleksander Kwasniewski of Poland we're going alone. There are 30 countries there. It denigrates an alliance to say we're going alone.[9.16]
To add insult to injury, the very next night, Saturday Night Live, the NBC television comedy series, reinforced the incident. In its satirical version of the debate, the actor portraying Bush excitedly jumped off his stool and rudely interrupted the actor portraying Gibson.
Saturday Night Live, however, is an equal opportunity satire provider. The comedians also gave John Kerry a dose of their barbed wit. In that second debate, the senator used the phrase "I have a plan…" 13 times, and so in that same program, the actor portraying Kerry used the phrase repeatedly, too.
However, the actual George W. Bush had only that one forceful outburst during that second engagement. The rest of the time, he contained his aggressiveness and petulance. In fact, he was a man transformed from the first debate. Every time he spoke, he did so more with animation than antagonism, and every time the reaction camera showed him listening to his opponent, George W. Bush was attentive but impassive…no frowns, no scowls.
In the Line of Fire: How to Handle Tough Questions... When It Counts Page 12
