Political Science 101

Chapter Seventy-Eight

THE LIGHTS weren't as bright as Ray had anticipated, but the university who hosted the debate did their best to make the setting look a politically corporate as possible. The audience in the university gymnasium applauded politely as each of the three candidates walked to their respective podiums. The audience was comprised of several hundred students and adults, as well as campaign employees and volunteers, donors, and members of the local and national media.

But the primary medium of the debate was television. Ray was a little surprised that the dozen-or-so cameras in the gymnasium, covering a copious number of angles and perspectives, including two cameras for each candidate and numerous wide-angle and alternate-angle cameras, each with a red light ton top indicating that it was the current camera in use for the live broadcast.

As the introductions were being made, Ray watched the red light switch from one camera to the next and to the next. He began trying to guess where the red light would go next as the debate moderator spoke his welcomes to each candidate and the viewing audience, followed by the reading of the debate rules and procedures.

Ray gave a glance to his left to see Michael Robertson, a Tea Party Conservative whose views bordered on the extreme end of the right-wing spectrum. The extreme Republican base loved him and he was quite well-funded by the Koch Brothers, the NRA, and other far-right special interest groups. He was a moderately-tall gentleman, balled on the top with the horseshoe hair on the side and back of his head, and he wore glasses which went out of style sometime during the mid-1980s (which Ray found odd since the man's personal net worth was easily well-over $5 million). And the man never seemed to smile — about anything.

At the other podium was Ray's Democratic opponent. Elizabeth Wright, an attorney for the ACLU was known for (and proud of) her far-left ultra-Liberal standpoints on nearly every issue. She was tall, proper, and well-dressed in an expensive-looking pantsuit and her dark hair was cut short and corporate. She was unmarried, a feminist, an atheist, and even though her high-profile legal work had given her a very luxuriously comfortable living, she always wore an intellectual sense of "pride in the common man" look on her face. Put bluntly, she was a bleeding-heart for nearly every socially-Liberal cause. And she was proud of it.

"Mr. Doyle, we begin with you," the moderator said, snapping Ray out of his surrounding daydream. Ray gave the man an interested and appeasing smile (neither sentiment being genuine) and awaited the first question. "The question is," the moderator continued, speaking in the voice of a news broadcaster, "Washington DC seems gridlocked by partisan stand-offs, bickering, and filibustering. How will you help change this culture in Washington?"

"Well," Ray began, knowing this question was coming (since it had been planted there for him), "first of all, I would like to thank my fellow candidates for taking this opportunity to discuss these issues, and I would like to thank Stephens College for hosting this event." He paused. This little Thank You line wasn't required or anything, but every candidate in any debate anymore said it; it was just another meaningless part of playing the political game. And it was honestly a slight challenge for Ray not to sound fake or disingenuous, but it was a challenge he'd mastered on the campaign trail. "First of all, I think it is important that I am entirely willing to use compromise rather than partisanship to make my stand in Washington, as I've done for two years already. I have co-sponsored more bipartisan pieces of legislation than any other member of Congress." He paused for a breath. He'd been told to say this about sponsoring legislation, specifically so that his media team could use it for commercials and sound bites, regardless of whether or not it was technically true.

The fact is, members of Congress all-too-often put their names on pieces of legislation so that they can use it during Election Season, even though most bills were written (and often signed) by Congressional staffers and aides — not Congressmen. Ray himself had two staffers (at least) who could sign his signature spot-on.

"Secondly," he went on, "I would make it clear to my constituents that my decisions in Washington DC will be based on the views and needs of the people of Missouri, not my own personal biases or opinions; because I understand that I am elected to represent the interests of a populous of citizens, not my own personal viewpoints. And with this, I hope to lead by example." This answer as well had been scripted for Ray. It was all part of his "Candidate of Compromise" image and persona.

A small blue light on the moderator's desk illuminated, indicating that his time to speak had expired.

"Mr. Robertson," the moderator said, "your response?"

"Yes," the aging Republican said, "but first I would like to thank..." he rambled his own scripted statement of required gratitude.

Ray momentarily zoned out while pretending to listen.

"In my opinion," Robertson continued, "the gridlock in Washington is the fault of the tax-and-spend Liberals in Congress who refuse to listen to reason and understand that they're taking away the rights of the hard-working American people and leading us straight to Socialism."

Ray heard this and rolled his eyes, suddenly hoping no cameras were on him when he did. He checked the red lights on the cameras and felt a bit better. Hopefully no one would catch it on any b-roll.

"The Liberals," Robertson continued, "are leading us in a direction our forefathers never intended and until the Left decides that the American people don't support their Liberal agenda, the sooner Congress will be able to get things done." Robertson appeared to attempt a slight grin, but it looked more like an old man snarl.

"Thank you, Mr. Robertson," the moderator said, "and now to you, Ms. Wright.

"Thank you," Wright began, "and thank you to all..." and she too laid out her generic statement of appreciation. "Well," she said with a sigh, "I think you've heard from two men just now who know nothing about Washington." She looked at the Ray, then back at the audience. "Mr. Doyle here seems to think he can redefine how Congress operates by trying to be everyone's friend. How naïve." She looked across to Robinson. "And even worse," she continued, "Mr. Robertson seems to think that he speaks for the population of the whole country, when in fact, he and his rich Tea Party cohorts only really represent the richest one or two percent of the population. For the gridlock in Washington to be broken, Congress must have realistic goals, and, at the same time, realize that their decisions represent millions of people, all of whom deserve a say in what happens, no matter what their net worth may be. And until Congress starts representing the common citizens and not the millionaires and their lobbyists, Congress will remain motionless."

"Thank you," the moderator said as the blue light illuminated. "The next question is for..." the moderator went on. The first question set the tone for the entire debate and it continued in a nearly identical fashion. The common generic partisan rhetoric dominated; the Republican ridiculed the Democrat for being too far to the Left, the Democrat ridiculed the Republican for being too far to the Right, both ridiculed Ray, the Independent, for being naïve and appeasing, and Ray ridiculed no one, because he was instructed to do so.

This was the planned theme for nearly ninety minutes. And even though the topics ranged from taxes to abortion to national defense to gay marriage to immigration and on and on, it seemed like every answer was the same from everyone, including Ray.

Ray wasn't sure about the other two, but he'd gotten the questions ahead of time and his answers (and even his rebuttals) were carefully scripted. At the beginning of the debate, the moderator made the statement that no one knew the questions except the moderator. Ray had to resist a chuckle at this because he'd had the questions for weeks; he even knew the order.

Nearing the end of the ninety-minute commercial-free debate, it became time for each candidate's closing statement. This would include, of course, another mindless Thank You to any and everyone followed by each candidate's parting shots at the other two candidates as well a "by the way, vote for me" statement.

"By random drawing," the moderator said, "Ms. Wright, your closing statement will be first, followed by Mr. Robertson, and concluding with Mr. Doyle." Ray smiled. This order was not random, and he knew it. "Ms. Wright," the moderator said, "you have one minute to make your closing statement."

"Thank you," she said, and she began.