The Folks on the Hill

NOT EVERYONE is marveling at George Bush's transformation into a legitimate contender for the Republican nomination. Many respected political analysts view the Texan's highly publicized success in the infant campaign as the confirmation of a trend threatening to change the way candidates sell themselves to the public.

At a recent conference on the primary system and the press held at the Kennedy School of Government, James Wooten of ABC described one presidential hopeful in the 1976 campaign who "seemed willing to discuss the issues, when in reality, he discussed no issues at all." Jimmy Carter was elected anyway.

Rep. David A. Stockman (R-Mich.), another participant at the conference, spoke of a "new phenomenon" in presidential politics: the candidate who combines an obscure record with a chummy, non-committal image designed to offend no one. Stockman calls his prototype the "Bush/- Carter-type candidate."

What these and other experts see is the emergence of a new breed of populist candidate, who despite the complicated and potentially dangerous foreign and domestic issues facing the United States, wins because he fits in so well on Main Street.

The Carter we knew in 1976 worked tirelessly to create this image, and with surprising speed, Bush has shed his upper-class prep school heritage and established the same bland, folksy reputation. Time described him recently as "likeable, decent, a fine man."

But the packaging of the modern populist goes beyond the early morning family jogs memorialized on the cover of Newsweek. What Carter had in 1976 and Bush has in 1980 is a young, enthusiastic organization that started early in Iowa and capitalized on that state's affection for down-to-earth, visible politicians. After Iowa, the press blessed Carter with its bewitching potion, momentum. Bush now tastes the same nectar. In fact, he chortles that he has cornered the market on the stuff.

Although he has retained an effective crew of strategists, Carter has long since adjusted his image to include such twists as his current favorite, the hard-headed protecter of American dignity. As president, he has also sacrificed two populist advantages that he capitalized on in 1976: no clear record on national issues and no association with the incumbent administration.

Because of his clean slate, Carter was able to run a campaign based on abused half-issues such as the ills of the Washington establishment and the need for efficiency and integrity in the executive branch.

Bush has a similar opportunity. He has served as director of the Central Intelligence Agency, chairman of the Republican National Committee and official liason to China, but his elected experience includes only an unspectacular four years in Congress. Bush can and does shift from moderate to conservative rhetoric, depending on who is listening, because he has no voting record or recent link to official policy.

Widely considered a flexible man who stands somewhere in the middle of the road, Bush actually follows a standard Republican line which leans heavily to the right. He favors measures such as a large-scale tax cut, which helps business as much as the consumer, and strict cutbacks in federal spending.

The media played a large role in establishing both Carter and Bush as competitors after they won the first round in Iowa. The two men benefited from the upset factor: the press loves to champion an underdog who comes out on top. A Carter or a Bush attracts the media because his pitch is geared toward images, which are easily captured on film, not specific issues that often bore and confuse voters who are not directly affected.

When the candidate does venture a stand, he often does so primarily to adjust his media image. For example, when Bush denounces the registration of firearms, he not only gains the support of the boys down at the rifle club, but also adds an important conservative brush stroke to his self-portrait. Journalists can further muddle the hazy relationship between issues and images by failing themselves to differentiate between the two.

Bush exploits this confusion for all it's worth. Cultivating a moderate stand on foreign policy, he scoffs at the idea of sending American troops to the Middle East to protect our interests there. Yet he defended the concept of "winning" a nuclear war against the Soviets in an interview with Robert Scheer of the Los Angeles Times.

THE PRESS has generally neither questioned this mixture of stances nor forced Bush to distinguish himself from his fellow Republicans on domestic issues. The media can thus take credit for helping Bush maintain his reputation as a man with whom anyone can agree. The whole scene recalls journalists' failure to pursue Carter's cliche-ridden spiel in 1976, when they opted instead to concentrate on his image as a fresh face, untainted by big time national politics and, of course, Watergate.

David A. Keene, Bush's political strategist, sees no relationship between the two campaigns and insists that his man "has been talking about the issues as much or more than anyone else, but that is not the public perception." It is the public perception, however, that counts on election day.

Republicans are switching to Bush because they trust him, the way Democrats trusted Carter in 1976. Bush does not present a new voice or innovative solutions to the nation's problems, but his ill-defined dependability may prove irresistible to voters.

We were still recovering from the shame of the Nixon years in 1976; Carter's "believe in me" gambit has some relevance. His reliance on hazy populism does not merit praise, but at least it made sense at the time. Unfortunately, the next president will not lead us through the impending gloom of rising energy prices and international military gamesmanship with trustworthiness. Republicans, nonetheless, seem eager at this early point in the campaign to make Carter's successful but politically counter-productive strategy work for Bush. In the process, they may change the focus of presidential politics from issues to headlines.