How often in politics do your problems get to seem like virtues? After months of hang-wringing over whether the crowded Republican field would lead to debates as messy and unintelligible as a bachelor party at a chain restaurant, the party’s first crack at it turned out to be surprisingly polished. And while the New Hampshire “Voters First” forum’s structure was not identical to a debate, it showed that limited time and tight structure can, barring a Trump-sized implosion mid-stage, give every candidate a chance to look good.
Fourteen of them took turns on a tiny stage for four minutes of Q&A with a moderator, followed by a shorter second round in which they got to end with a personal statement. Just as soon as you had finished formulating a single thought about one person in a blue/black worsted wool suit with a blue/red tie, a new one (or Carly Fiorina) had taken his place. Ted Cruz, Rand Paul and Marco Rubio attended via satellite. Donald Trump, notably absent, was probably at home deleting the yooooooge number of fan messages in his extremely exclusive voicemail inbox.
The attention compression worked to almost everyone’s advantage. It delivered the messages but no time for anyone to ask about the exceptions — no time to even think about them, really. Just a unceasing delivery of conservative beliefs straight to the pleasure center of any brain that shares them.
The rewards to this kind of structure are obvious: even if it’s hard to elaborate on your thoughts, it’s almost harder to make a fool of yourself. Candidates only need to memorize the maybe 20 paragraphs of policy planks they have on maybe 20 major issues (and they should have done that by now, just by virtue of repeating their stump speeches, which are often repurposed versions of their book chapters), then pivot back to them after any question touches on one of those topics.
You could see this at work with the first candidate’s first question. Rick Perry was asked what to do about the 12 million undocumented immigrants already in the United States, then treated the audience to a recitation about what he had done and would do about a strong border. He was emphatic, poised and affable, and it’s easy to assume his stock will rise because of his appearance.
Most everyone else was similarly polished. Lindsey Graham was sufficiently bellicose and name-dropped John McCain, as usual, but he got the best response of the night with a Clinton joke. Chris Christie was sufficiently charmingly self-deprecating and confident. Despite having only three minutes to make points at the end, Scott Walker reminded everyone that he won three elections in four years in a blue state where he won, in that blue state, three elections in four years. Rick Santorum was able to make a strong case for restoring American manufacturing without having to say anything that would logically challenge free trade, anti-unionism or zero regulations about worker compensation or environmental damage.
The only candidates who didn’t fare as well were those who didn’t accelerate their speaking pace to match the limited time allotted (even Bobby Jindal, most famous for a response to Obama’s 2009 address to a joint-session of Congress in which he sounded like a grandmotherly voiceover to a molasses ad, came out brisk and efficient). Those who stuck to their slow-and-steady cadence seemed as if they were admitting they were incapable of adapting to the circumstance. Ben Carson, whose delivery often sounds out of breath and a little dazzled, like a roommate describing a weird dream he had despite not yet being fully awake, tried to strike a chord by ditching “repeal and replace” of Obamacare with “replace, then repeal.” But given his limited time, his replacement solution of health savings accounts and going to clinics instead of emergency rooms sounded a lot like, “Pay for your own healthcare and save money.” Of course, this probably is his program, but even he didn’t sound terribly sure.
By far the most outpaced by the format was Carly Fiorina, whose clipped, emphatic, measured tone probably sounds fantastically strong and intimidating on a conference call but felt halting compared to her peers. She spent the bulk of her first four minutes claiming that we will be damaged by the status quo, that we can’t afford the status quo, that it’s difficult to break free from the status quo but the one thing we simply can’t afford to do about the status quo is merely talk about the status quo. She had just enough time to not outline what she would do before the time was up. Although, later she said that only in America could someone like her rise from secretary to CEO, then immediately talked about Margaret Thatcher, who rose from grocer’s daughter to Prime Minister. So maybe it wasn’t her night.
The only two lowlights both came from the great state of Florida. Marco Rubio (looking genuinely tired and — this is not a cheap joke — dehydrated) stumbled on his replies, probably due to a bad remote feed where he was appearing in Washington. Meanwhile, (not a) Jeb Bush showed that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree by responding to a question about whether the apple falls far from the tree by asserting that he is his own man, then stumbling through a weird bit about how his father is the greatest man in the world, and that you can buy a shirt on his website about how his dad is really great.
While that stumbling should be part of a bigger discussion of whether Jeb thinks he can win the money primary without putting in a lot of work, it also underscores the only immediate pitfall of compressed debates. With only a little time on camera, even little stumbles can seem bigger for lack of many more minutes to offset them with thoughtfully elucidated policy.
But that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Most of these candidates agree with each other on almost everything, and many of them don’t want to go into details because then the horrors of context, contradiction and practicality arise. Besides, the only way to undermine and nitpick with someone who agrees with you is to challenge them to greater and greater extremities of the same policy, tying you dangerously to a rabid base that will expect you to deliver. If style over substance is going to be better off for everyone, why not embrace a structure that not only facilitates it but mandates it?
The formula looks easily repeatable, starting with the full debates on Thursday, which will allow bullying crosstalk to spice up bullet-point responses. It will be the full Republican Party Experience with a structure that still provides little time to mess up. Until candidates become comically unviable in the polls or in the pocketbook, there’s no reason for the party to change it.
