Style Over Substance

ABOUT TWO WEEKS ago, many Seattlites received a political plea for support on behalf of Booth Gardner a Democrat hopeful for the governor hip. This short note, courteously addressed. "Dear Friend of Senator Jackson,' stated that the Senator had originally "encouraged" Gardner to run, and was fully behind his assault on the Governor's chair. This endorsement was highly unusual; Henry M. "Scoop" Jackson was never one to become overly involved in local election, the more so after his death more than a year ago.

So what was this? Direct Mail from the Great Beyond? An exhortation exhumed with Jackson's bodily remains? Unfortunately, the truth is not quite so tasteful. Two former members of Jackson's staff saw fit to lend their defunct chief's name and memory to the hard-pressed Gardner, perhaps with the hope of rectifying their unemployment caused by Jackson's untimely demise. Men of former eras might have been deterred by their awe of the dead; but with luck the Senator's spirit was still a true Democrat at heart.

But besides being a particularly crass example of last-minute vote scrounging, this post-mortem mailing illustrates in funebral glory how far out the process of political endorsement has gone.

THE AMERICAN ELECTORAL process has always had a smelly side to it, but in the past, once the deals were cut and the alliances made, hypocrisy was kept as straightforward as possible: an endorsement, no matter how distasteful the spirit in which it was made, simply indicated the support of some key constituency.

Things don't work that way anymore. The Jackson example is only the latest in a new phenomenon-the divorce of the appearance and the reality of political power. The people doing the endorsing--and the endorsements themselves--increasingly have nothing to do with the substance of political campaigns.

The most discussed aspect of modern American politics has been the role of the media in deciding the track results. Endorsements are no longer the mere flags of factions as they arrayed in electoral battle, with unions as the significant exception. Modern day endorsements are much more ice PBS-TV, split into its pecuniary and public parts: the program itself, and the sponsors.

Unlike PBS, however, both sides want to keep the financial aid, mostly from the burgeoning number of political action committees, a secret. No candidate steps proudly forward to announce that he has won the coveted support of the Committee for Vested Interests or the Association for Religious Intolerance; and the furthest degree of help accepted is another $5,000 dollars, thank you.

While the pecuniary part of campaigns is kept under wraps, the public part has come to dwell on anything but politics. Concurrent with the rise of political action committees has come the practice of celebrity politics. Remember the rock'n'roll politics of the 1980 campaign, where musicians like the Gregg Allman Band, Linda Ronstadt, and Willie Nelson lent their public image for limited political exploitation? This year Ronald Reagan has been the most effective practitioner of this ruse, craftily manipulating the names and photos of Michael Jackson, Bruce Springsteen and others for his own re-election.

These celebrities are politically useful not because an endorsement from Boy George will away any culture Club fanatic to vote Republican (most of them are too young to vote anyway), but for associations of youth, glamour, and vitality that they bring. Reagan, the Acting President, realizes that he does not need the personal OK of a superstar to shine from his or her reflected charisma. Reagan's hyper-publicized photo with God's Gift to the Sequin Industry was seen by more potential voters than the Republican National convention, and was a lot easier on the eyes. One would almost suspect that the blue and gold officer's jacket and aviator's glasses were a secret gift to the tax-free Nancy d. Reagan Wardrobe Fund, in order to promote militarism among the young.

The affable Reagan, of course, doesn't really need this a political help; it is Walter Mondale who could use some help from the Jacksons, but he isn't getting it. Mondale has an anti-charisma, a portable entropy that drains the sparkle of those sharing his podium. The Rev. Jesse L. Jackson is the notable exception, which perhaps explains why the Mondale campaign so cravenly sought his endorsement. But even with the redoubtable Reverend on his side. Mondale cannot project the appeal he needs, and his supporters have not managed to find enough celebrities to fill the void--one reason for his long gap in the polls.

NO ONE had ever doubted the importance of good looks and a smoothe style to political success, but the emphasis on this to the exclusion of other qualities is getting ridiculous--as the Senate campaign is Washington reminds us. Here, no movie star or pop singer was good enough--this time the consultants had to reach into the grave, literally. It is hardly surprising that a candidate might look wistfully to the towering giants of bygone eras; Jackson was the only statesman my state has generated, a man respected in both Washingtons. Since he dies, several communities in Washington State have been vying to see which can name the most things after him.

And if anyone needs the extra lustre Jackson's name carries, it is Gardner. A man who has admitted to reporters that he began his campaign horribly, lacking the name recognition of his opponent Jim McDermott, Gardner has been forced to run a media-heavy campaign financed largely by his limited personal wealth.

Jackson's "Endorsement From the Grave" is the logical extension of the gap between appearance and the reality. Jackson, were he alive today, might well have supported Gardner's candidacy. Then again, he might not have. Jackson cannot vote for Gardner; his alleged posthumous support carries no weight. However, by leeching part of the public's respect for Jackson, by trying to seize a piece of Jackson's image and make it his own, Gardner has displayed just how far the image has come in its long-standing battle with substance in our political process.