IN DOZENS of primary debates over the past year, voters have been watching the political equivalent of "American Idol." Three candidates now advance to the final round of competition after surviving questions from talking snowmen, gun-toting rednecks, and scalp-hunting journalists. With the cast of characters reduced to two potential pairings, what might voters expect to see in the general election debates next fall? Let us briefly handicap the field, based on the candidates' performances thus far:
Barack Obama v. John McCain: Political debates are most compelling when they feature candidates with sharply divergent personalities - think John F. Kennedy versus Richard Nixon, Dick Cheney versus John Edwards, Geraldine Ferraro versus George H.W. Bush. In this sense, Obama-McCain offers a rich array of contrasts in age, ethnicity, experience, and political philosophy. Viewers got a tantalizing sneak preview of the visual difference between these two the night of Super Tuesday, when the TV networks carried their overlapping speeches on a split-screen. Like Obama, McCain has not always been at his best in debates, but he does manage to convey a refreshing diffidence toward the gamesmanship of presidential campaigns. McCain successfully straddles the line between modesty and naked ambition, as opposed to Obama's young-man-in-a-hurry. And he can match his younger rival in the humor department, a not inconsiderable weapon in a debater's arsenal. For McCain the goal is to deploy these assets to make Obama look callow, unprepared, and inappropriately hungry for the presidency.
But this dynamic could just as easily be turned on its head, with Obama appearing vigorous and energetic while McCain comes across as a warhorse whose moment has passed. Obama needs to do to McCain what Walter Mondale did to Ronald Reagan in the first presidential debate of 1984: make him seem ready for the retirement home. If Obama can paint his opponent as a grumpy old man, McCain gets relegated to second banana. Bottom line: Obama wins by positioning himself as Future Man to McCain's Retro Man. McCain wins by positioning himself as father figure to the nation.
Hillary Clinton v. John McCain: This is in many ways a more predictable pairing. As Senate colleagues, Clinton and McCain have a cordial relationship that would probably drain the vitriol out of any face-to-face confrontation. A series of McCain-Clinton debates might generate few pyrotechnics; on the other hand, voters could count on a substantive discussion between seasoned veterans.
As debaters these two represent stylistic opposites. Clinton consistently delivers the goods, making virtually no mistakes along the way. In the live debate she has shown intelligence, wit, and, when necessary, a willingness to play hardball. McCain lacks his rival's efficiency, and unlike Clinton, he operates close to the emotional surface. A debate between them would represent a reversal of stereotypes, with the male candidate appealing to the heart and the female appealing to the head.
The gender contrast posed by a Clinton-McCain debate should make this a fascinating example of must-see TV. Although male-female debates have become common overseas, the only American precedent is the Ferraro-Bush match that happened nearly a quarter-century ago. In that debate Ferraro famously upbraided her opponent for his patronizing attitude. Don't expect McCain to make the same mistake with Clinton.
Bottom line: The formidable Clinton brings superior strengths to the debate. In order to win, however, she must channel these advantages toward a single objective: convincing the public that she is more presidential than McCain. McCain wins if he can lure Clinton into the Michael Dukakis-Al Gore trap, in which intellect gets trumped by feeling. Given the volatile history of presidential debates, either scenario seems plausible.
Alan Schroeder is an associate professor in the School of Journalism at Northeastern University and author of "Presidential Debates: 50 Years of High-Risk TV."
