Performing for the Public Eye

The summer between my freshman and sophomore years of high school, I enrolled in a program at Stanford and took a class in American Government. But instead of a comprehensive course about the intricacies of our nation's bureaucracy, which was meant to gear me up for the A.P. exam, I spent three hours each morning listening to the ranting and raving of a liberal hippie from Florida. He wanted us to call him Bob. He swore by his Birkenstocks. And he thought anyone who wanted to run for the President of the United States was crazy.

I was at the impressionable age of 15 at the time, and was as unsure of my politics as I was of my fashion style. And then I had to deal with Bob. He inundated our class with passionate arguments in favor of abortion and adamantly against the death penalty. There might have even been a bit of Communist propaganda thrown in, but I don't remember that part so well.

What I do remember is the day he unveiled his disdain for the office of the presidency--or rather, for anyone shooting for the office of the Presidency. I don't even remember what led up to his declaration. Whatever it was, his hair had fallen out of the ponytail, his eyes were bulging, and he ended the class by throwing up his arms and muttering, "You've got to be nuts to want to be the President of the United States." I just thought that he was nuts.

But now that I have a few more years under my belt, I have to admit my vote is with Bob. Forget about being nuts, you've got to be crazy to run for President of the United States. Maybe it would be easier to lead another country, especially one that wasn't such an integral part of world affairs or whose economy didn't have global influence. In addition, I can't imagine any group of people being more difficult to lead than American citizens. Our cynicism abounds. Fickleness prevails. Irony thrives. Opinions shift. And we love to criticize. In response to our scrutiny, presidential candidates capitulate to our demands and play to our whims, or else stick to their politics and just hope for the best. But why anyone would make themselves so vulnerable to Americans in the first place is beyond me.

Let's turn to Al Gore '69, Mr. Beta-man-soon-to-be-alpha-man. Americans must be making the poor vice president so confused. On one hand, he's breaking all ties with the "Big Daddy" Bill Clinton administration. And if he takes away just one thing from Clinton's cigar antics, it's that leaders who can't seem to nail that family-values persona can and will be slammed for it.

Ironically, though, Gore is getting slammed for too much sweetness. Too much affection for Tipper. Too much effort when he switched to cowboy boots. For God's sake, they even criticized him for wearing too much navy blue. So he has moved onto tan. Of course, while navy blue evokes important discussions around an oak table, tan signals pick-up lines at a Formica bar-top. But when you're dealing with someone as dry as Gore, maybe it's a good idea to go to the extremes.

But changing his suit jacket didn't cut it and now Gore plans to pay "Beauty Myth" author Naomi Wolf $15,000 each month to make the evolution from the gentle cub to unruly grizzly complete. The absurdity of her salary aside, we should cringe that Gore needs to relearn how to walk and how to talk just to become our next president. I understand a presidential candidate responding to public sentiment about a particular political issue. But Americans' ungodly personal harassment convincing Gore to change his personality stretches beyond politics. Why the need to get so personal? Why the need to take it so personally? But I guess when your main rival comes in the form of a six-foot, five-inch ex-basketball star, it's enough to motivate any candidate to shed his beta-man skin.

At least George W. has the strut and the stare of the alpha-man down pat--if you stay away from pop quizzes about foreign leaders, that is. Poor form, of course, but can you blame him? When you're so concerned about raising money for your campaign and touting moral education in schools, it's easy to fall a bit behind in world affairs. But then again, George W.'s already an alpha-male and last I heard he is still eligible to wear navy blue in public. But Americans wouldn't let him off the hook that easily. Last week The New Yorker printed his somewhat embarrassing Yale report card, which only added fuel to the fire of skepticism that George W. can confront the sticky politics that come along with the Oval Office. But if he can endure Americans mocking him and publicly doubting his intelligence, then maybe global affairs will be a cakewalk.

Our inquisition of presidential candidates isn't much better for anyone else. Liddy Dole had to suffer the embarrassment of not raising enough money to keep her unannounced bid at the presidency afloat. I'm not sure which is worse--that or the fact that her own husband didn't even support her. The media chastised Dan Quayle for his inability to spell the word "potato." But then again, we've all become a little "Spell Check"-dependent. Sen. John McCain (R-Ariz.) has been criticized for his fiery temper. Gary "Family Values" Bauer has come under suspicion for spending time in an office alone with a young female aide. Pat Buchanan has never stopped being controversial. Many candidates have shared their religious beliefs as part of their campaigns; a friend of mine with presidential aspirations jokingly wonders when she is going to have to experience a Baptist revival just to win the White House.

Perhaps President Clinton deserves some of the blame. After all, his administration did all that it could to meld a president's personal life with his duties in office. The President's adultery and lying introduced Americans to a sordid life behind a Presidential faade, and now we can't stop prying for similar excitement.

Before Americans were content to watch the President in his fishbowl, open for public view. Now the President is shoved under an X-ray machine and thrown onto a psychiatrist's couch, bringing his most personal details ("Boxers or briefs, Mr. Clinton?") under scrutiny. Maybe to run for President, you have to be an exibitionist. Or at least you have to be nuts.

Jordana R. Lewis '02, a Crimson editor, is a history and literature concentrator in Eliot House. She has no plans to run for public office. At this time.