Political debates are strange contests, but occasionally make choices clear

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Americans expect more from political debates than we often get. This year is quite an exception.

I watched the first Indiana gubernatorial debate with great interest on Oct. 2. The hour-long event featuring Jennifer McCormick (D) and Mike Braun (R) was only a few minutes in when I could tell this was likely going to be a good night for Democrats. Only a few minutes later, I found myself disappointed because I knew this important moment was not going to be seen by as many Hoosier voters as it should have been.

Both presidential debates delivered, at a minimum, a clear contrast between the participants that should drive decision making for voters. President Joe Biden’s awful debate performance in late June led to a rallying cry from many in his own party for him to drop out of the race. The performance illustrated his greatest vulnerability; that he was just too old for the job.

Importantly though, polling data after that bad night didn’t move all that much. One could conclude it didn’t matter as much to voters as it did to the political class. More likely though, it confirmed pessimism about Biden’s ability to inspire movement in his already sagging position.

His eventual and historic withdrawal from the race, and the rallying around Kamala Harris drastically changed everything.

Debates can do that, though they rarely do. Usually, the contests are exercises in bias confirmation. Dr. Conor Dawling, professor of political science at the University of Buffalo wrote, “Debates can help solidify, or reinforce, choices for folks who are already fairly to very certain which candidate they intend to support.” Yes, this is what we normally get out of them.

However, this year’s battles have delivered more than that several times now.

The recent McCormick/Braun debate is one of them. Any objective viewer should have been able to see several things. McCormick had a better grasp of the details of the job. She was better prepared for the predictable questions, and she was confident in her delivery from start to finish.

Braun gave, at best, a lackluster performance that raised more questions than it answered. I first wrote that the Republicans were running a campaign about nothing in its quest for the governor’s office last October. This is the third time I will remind Hoosiers of that sad truth.

I have seen gubernatorial campaigns, and the governing strategies that followed, which seemed to be designed around a “don’t make any mistakes” sort of game plan. Former Gov. Evan Bayh was committed to the strategy, and it served him well. Former Gov. Mike Pence was also committed to it, though he did make a few large, damaging mistakes during his one term in office.

Braun’s biggest mistake in his debate, on admittedly a much smaller scale, was comparable to Biden’s June failure. He appeared unprepared for the predictable questions, and his lack of sharpness made him appear old, a critique that he has largely avoided so far. His non-answers to one specific item made it abundantly clear to me that he would not be defending recent comments made by his running mate, Republican lieutenant governor nominee, Micah Beckwith.

Which leads me to the Oct. 1 vice presidential debate between Republican J.D. Vance and Democrat Tim Walz. This battle was mostly weird, to use one of Walz’s favorite descriptors, in that they were incredibly polite to each other. Walz was nervous and misspoke in a few cringe-worthy ways. Vance was slick and comfortable in the delivery of what amounted to a fact-checkers dream. Again, to the objective viewer, I would have to say that Vance appeared to “win,” if truth-telling didn’t matter.

But a funny thing happened in the post-debate polling. While many viewers saw it my way,

Walz’s favorability went up more than Vance’s did. Huh? The conclusion was that his every man persona was enhanced by his lack of comfort in that environment. So, did he win by losing, or was this a true exercise in a contest that had no prize to give?

I have never thought that the best arguer was a designation or talent that always equates to the best leader. If that were the case, I know some litigators who would thump every single person mentioned in this column like that giant bass drum the Purdue marching band drags around.

However, I am a believer that conversations are the best way to get to know a person. This belief drives my teaching philosophy to my speech students. I want them to connect with their audiences and make sure those audiences know them better, not just their topic, when they’re through.

With that goal in mind, the debates this year have been fantastic.

Michael Leppert is an author, educator and a communication consultant in Indianapolis. He writes about government, politics and culture at MichaelLeppert.com.

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