The last presidential debate was the least watched in history. the Republican and Democratic Conventions were the least watched in history. The TV networks have provided less coverage of this campaign than of any other. Voter surveys suggest that the turnout on Nov. 5 could dip under 50%. Who’s to blame for this implosion of apathy? The candidates? The media? The public? The zeitgeist? No, such explanations are wide of the mark: It’s the metaphors, stupid.
After decades of overuse, the images that politicians and journalists alike have employed to connect politics to the populace are now utterly exhausted. After every debate, on every televised hair-pulling contest, you hear them–drawn from a handful of sports, with the occasional gambling metaphor thrown in:
“Dick, it’s fourth and 25 for Dole with the ball on his own 6-yd. line; there’s a minute-15 to go, and he’s down by 11!”
“Right, Ed, he’s got to throw the Hail Mary!”
“Irv, looking at the debate as a whole, I’d say there were no knockdowns.”
“Well, Carolyn, if you look at the electoral map, Dole’s chances of getting 270 electoral votes are like drawing to an inside straight.”
The point of all these metaphors, of course, is to prove that the community of the politically obsessed is regular guys and gals, who care more about a Jerry Rice catch or a Pippen-to-Jordan jam than the latest tracking poll or Aspen Institute Seminar. But voters are not fools; when they hear a talking head spout one of these lame efforts, they respond like an assembly of eighth-graders listening to an assistant principal quoting Beavis and Butt-head. They turn off.
What’s the answer? The torch must be passed to a new generation of metaphors, fresh enough to tempt the disengaged electorate to pay some attention to the political discourse. This means nothing–absolutely nothing–from the strip-mined hills of baseball, football, basketball, boxing and gambling. We must turn elsewhere.
For instance, if the candidates are as concerned with women voters as they say, why not draw from Olympic events that attract huge female audiences. They could try diving (“Dole got off the board well on Filegate, but he came out of tuck way too soon on the character issue, Felicia, and that closing statement was not a clean splash!”) or figure skating (“Bud, all Clinton has to do is finish out the compulsories on his feet, and it’ll take a triple Axel for Dole to beat him”).
For the more intellectually gifted, there is bridge (“Dole’s out of trumps, and Clinton can run clubs for the slam, Charles”). Or perhaps chess (“Dole’s down a rook and two pawns, and his queen is under attack. I don’t think Capablanca could get out of this one”).
Our pols and pundits might even tap into one of the most popular genres of all–the booming market in steamy romance fiction (“Ted, I think when Americans grasp the broad, rippling possibilities of Senator Dole’s tax plan, when they feel the soothing yet insistent implications of his capital-gains tax cut, they will open to his candidacy like a rose”).
Too daring, too risky, you say? Fine. But when turnout hits an all-time low next month, don’t say I didn’t warn you. I diagrammed the touchdown play, and you punted.
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