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This is to certify that the

thesis entitled

THE DISTORTED POLITICAL PERCEPTIONS OF
FOUR NATIONAL NEWSPAPERS IN THE 1988 PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN

presented by

STEVEN SANTZ HARMON

has been accepted towards fulfillment
of the requirements for

 

Master of Arts degree in American Studies

 

Major professor

Date August 2, 1994

 

0-7639 MS U is an Affirmative Action/Equal Opportunity Institution

 

LIBRARY
M‘Chigan State
University

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE DISTORTED POLITICAL PERCEPTIONS OF
FOUR NATIONAL NEWSPAPERS IN THE 1988 PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN

By

Steven Santz Harmon

A THESIS

Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of

MASTER OF ARTS

Department of American Studies

1994

ABSTRACT
THE DISTORTED POLITICAL PERCEPTIONS OF
FOUR NATIONAL NEWSPAPERS IN THE 1988 PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN
By

Steven Santz Harmon

The press's failure in the 1988 presidential campaign was its adherence to distorted
perceptions--based on a preoccupation with strategic over policy analysis. Despite the
public's longing for a substantive dialogue, the press provided Republican candidate
George Bush a set of expectations acquitting him of the need to address issues, primarily
because his "aggressive approach" apparently resonated in the polls more successfully than
Democratic candidate Michael Dukakis's more cerebral approach. Many critics of the 1988
campaign contend that the Republican campaign "manipulated" the media, usurping media
routines to its own ends. The press, however, had the power to shape campaign coverage
independent of these "manipulative" efforts. Alternative critiques were available to the
press that would not have taken a departure from traditional routines, such as a reliance on
public opinion polls and elite sources. That the press did not explore alternative critiques

suggests a conservative ideological undertow to its efforts.

To the grandfather I never knew, Owen A. I. Roche,
a poet-joumalist (and spy!) whose legacy looms

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS _

I wish to thank my major adviser, William Coté, Professor, Journalism, for his
professional guidance and kind support in launching this thesis; Douglas Noverr,
Professor, American Thought and Language, for his encouragement from my first days on
campus to write a thesis, as well as his provocative questions; and Stephen Lacy,
Professor, Journalism, for the logical reasoning he subtly coaxed from me. I would also
like to express gratitude to my parents, Sheila and Harvey, for instilling in me a spirit of
inquiry and irreverence about national affairs; and to Jennifer Dyer, who lovingly inspires

me daily to chase my dreams.

iv

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I. INTRODUCTION ........................................... 1

Popular Criticism
Preliminary Findings
Methodology

H. THEORY ................................................ 13

Theory Introduction
Media Routines Theory
Ideology Theory
Applying Theory to 1988

HI. POST-GOP CONVENTION COVERAGE ......................... 33

GOP Targets Early Attacks

Bush Overtakes Dukakis

August 21-27 Coverage '
August 28-September 3 Coverage
September 4-10 Coverage
Summary

IV. W5: AUGUST 21—SEPTEMBER 10 ................. 57

Dukakis On Defensive

Infatuation With Tactics

Why A Focus On Tactics Seemed Important
Summary

V. DISPOSITION OF PRESS SOLIDIFIES .......................... 72

Attempts To Uncover Candidates' Records
Horse Race, Strategic Analysis, And Public Mood Mark Pre-Debate Coverage

Bush's "Unanswered Ideology Attacks"
The Defining Role Of Polls
Expectations Game Begins

VI. THE DEBATES: EXPECTATIONS AND PERFORMANCE VALUES ..... 100

Debate #1: September 25

The Conventional Wisdom Emerges

The Final Aftermath Of Debate #1
Conventional Wisdoms Heading Into Debate #2

Debate #2: October 13

VII. SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION .............................. 125

Did Bush Benefit From Ideology Or Conservative Mood?

LIST OF REFERENCES ..................................... 133

vi

LIST OF TABLES

TABLE 1 ...................................................... 9

vii

 

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

A familiar Republican refrain--on the national media's reputed liberal bias-—accompanied
the Grand Old Party's loss of the presidency in 1992. Party leaders regarded their claims
to be particularly justified in the final week of the campaign, when the press reported new
revelations about President George Bush's knowledge in the Iran-Contra affair while
serving as vice president from 1980-to—1988. Democratic candidate Bill Clinton's lead in
some public opinion polls had dwindled from double digits to 6 percent by October 30
when a federal grand jury released a 1986 note written by Caspar Weinberger that
contradicted statements by Bush surrounding his knowledge of the affair (Pincus and
Lardner October 31, 1992: A1; Devroy November 4, 1992: A21).

Bush's aides contended the note was nothing new and complained that the timing of the
release, four days before the election, was politically motivated. They worried that Bush's
apparent momentum in the polls would be slowed, and that he'd have to spend the last few
days of his campaign answering to the charge rather than focusing on his opponent. Bush
had pulled into a virtual tie, according to the Republican campaign's internal tracking. "We
really were moving until this happened," said one aide. Bush displayed less restraint,
calling the new accusation a "Democratic witch hunt. " He assailed Clinton for relying on a
"last-minute smoking gun" to win, and told CNN talk show host Larry King there was

something "suspicious" in the timing. Republican officials called the release of the note a

2
calculated political "low blow" that affected the dynamics of Bush's campaign. "It amounts

to a dirty tric " said one aide (Yang November 1, 1992: A18; Devroy and Pincus
November 3, 1992: A10).

W writer Walter Pincus detailed Bus '8 "credibility problems" on Iran-
Contra, which had "roots" in a 1987 interview with the East and Bush's 1988 campaign
autobiography. Bush stated he was "out of the loop" on the decision to sell arms to the
Iranian government in exchange for the release of hostages and on the diversion of funds to
Nicaraguan Contras, but later made contradictory remarks suggesting he thought the US.
was merely creating diplomatic channels with moderate Iranians. Since the 1988
presidential campaign, Bush, wrote Pincus, had been "able to ignore the new material or
supply a response that muddied the issue" (Pincus November 2, 1992: A13). Now,
apparently, the press was not about to allow any further hedging by Bush. They would
push the issue and hold him accountable for an answer.

Why did Bush face heat on Iran-Contra in 1992 and not in 1988? Is an issue damaging
only by sudden, shocking revelation, in which fresh gunsmoke appears on the press's
radar screen? When is a potentially damaging issue politically motivated and when is it fair
game during campaign coverage? It appears that the press was handed more fortuitous
circumstances in 1992 than in 1988 to deal with such questions. In 1992, the press
couldn't be credited or blamed for the timing of the release of the Weinberger document.
But the fact that the media seized on the document as a campaign issue and forced Bush to
answer to it marked a departure from their timidity on the same issue four years earlier. In
1988, the press played it safe with Iran-Contra, effectively eliminating a key trump card
from the Democrats' campaign. Why Bush cun'ied less media favor in the 1992 campaign
than in 1988 may rest with the weakness of the United States economy, a standard Opening
for press criticism. But the more exacting coverage may have also had to do with a wide

recognition within the press corps that they had somehow failed in the 1988 campaign to

3
force an intelligent discussion of issues, including leadership irnplicationsattached to the

Iran-Contra scandal.

In 1988, Bush and his advisers carved a strategy revolving around the press's tendency
to focus on campaign tactics, personality issues, national polls and dramatic visuals. Bush
profited from an insulated campaign, patterned after the Reagan presidency, in which
contact with the press was at best superficial, and exploration of issues insubstantial. A
less adept Democratic strategy failed to capitalize on the above stated press's tendencies
while attempting to lay out a program challenging the previous eight years of Republican
rule. Democratic candidate Michael Dukakis's deficiencies in media strategy (failing to
successfully maneuver through such press prerequisites as sticking to simple messages and
providing powerful visuals) overshadowed the substance of his campaign. One
, distinguishing mark of the press's 1988 campaign coverage was how the question of
strategic flaws became translated into a perception of a candidate's weaknesses as a
potential president The press's preoccupation with this perception became a guiding force
in its coverage, eclipsing awareness of non-strategic factors that determine a candidate's
qualifications for the presidency.

The dynamics of a campaign based on this type of coverage required that the press
reproduce events at variance with, or in lieu of, competing versions of reality. The wider
failure of the press in 1988 was its adherence to a set of flawed, or distorted, perceptions--
based on its preoccupation with strategic analysis over policy analysis. This thesis will
trace these flawed perceptions to the ultimate conventional Wisdoms they emerged as, with
the full definitional powers of detailing the Dukakis candidacy. The earliest distortions
derived from the insularity of Bush's campaign and the national media's inability or
reluctance to challenge that insularity, while Dukakis remained accessible and open to press
' scrutiny. This reached a critical peak during a three—week period following the GOP
convention, determining a tone that would favor the Republican candidate for the remainder

of the campaign.

4
W

Critics charged that George Bush's election to the presidency in 1988 rode the crest of
no mandate because his "lowroad campaign," long on "hot button" issues, did not address
substantive problems; nor did it indicate what political direction Bush intended to take the
country in the next four years (Martz September 5, 1988: 33). At the same time, the
national media were criticized for failing to steer Bush away from his negative campaign
and failing to provide a full airing of relevant issues like health care, the economy,
education--or leadership. Ultimately, critics charged, citizens went to the polls without the
necessary clarity and perspective needed to make informed decision.

Critics contended that the disposition of the 1988 election orbited around the national
press‘s obsession with political strategy. Political mechanics were "the only area of the
campaign where the informal rules allow the press to be judgmental," wrote Jonathan Alter.
But even in analyzing the process, journalists still had to operate within the principle of
balance, so that judgment focused on the effectiveness of the process rather than the value
or substance of it. "By any standard, Bush slung several tons more [mud] than Dukakis
[but] misguided ideas of fairness required that reporters implicate both equally, lest they be
viewed as taking sides. Bush aides understood this principle could be exploited to make it
seem that each bore equal responsibilty" (Alter November 21, 1988: 2426). Reporters
rewarded candidates for "successful tactics and flawless stagecraft," wrote Fred Barnes, in
a piece titled, "Unwitting accomplices," and punished candidates for not having them.
"The tacit analogy is that the candidate whose campaign is better run would make the better
president" (Barnes November 7, 1988: 14-16). Television networks were particularly
vulnerable to Bush's manipulations. Correspondents sounded like "theater critics," filling
the airwaves with stories on the campaign "stage managers," as well as the mechanics of
the campaigns. Fifty-two percent of network stories were devoted to "theater criticism," in

the 1988 campaign, compared with 6 percent in 1968. Networks allowed these "handlers"

5
to act as authorities in the field of campaign strategy, providing their own analysis of the

effectiveness of tactics, which were mainly geared for television coverage. In effect, they
became "media gurus not only for the candidates but for the networks as well" (Adatto May
28, 1990: 20-23). Columnist Meg Greenfield lamented three weeks before the election
that, indeed, the media had conspired in their own manipulation. "Everybody is
complaining these days about the management, the propaganda-like quality of political
news, including many of those in the press who contributed hugely to the management
they profess to deplore ..." (Greenfield October 17, 1988: 102).

The national print media also apparently considered Republican "handlers" as more
authoritative than Democrats. A study by the Gannett Center for Media Studies at
Columbia University, a liberal-leaning institution, showed that the print media
overwhelmingly relied on Bush representatives and spokespersons as sources by a margin
of nearly 2 to 1, countering "claims by conservative critics who argue that the news media
have a liberal bias and are more likely to quote liberal news sources," said GCMS director
Everette E. Dennis (Radolf November 26, 1988: 17).1

The media's reliance on Republican sources, combined with news standards of
"fairness," was further exacerbated by the disparity in media access to the two candidates,
critics contended. Control of images and access to Bush was the key to the success of the
Republican strategy. Roger Stone, a senior Bush adviser, admitted a couple weeks before
the election, "We are running a campaign that is designed for network TV. That means only
one message a day. It means not allowing anything unplanned" (Reich December 5,
1988: 21-22). W television writer Lloyd Grove asked in a September 10
analysis, "Are networks rewarding a campaign that limits the candidates' exposure to

reporters in favor of tightly choreographed set-pieces and punishing the campaign that

 

1 The Gannett study used a computer-aided analysis of major national media-only print sorrrces were used.
The four networks were not included because they are not on the Nexis database. The survey was conducted
from February to October, including all mentions of campaign managers, press secretaries, chiefs of staff,
image makers and others who were not candidates, and found that Bush ardes had 64 percent of all ress
mentions to Dukakis's 36. "Clearl , Bush and his people knew what messages would sell. This is srgnifimnt
because the organizations from w 'ch these data were derived are 'agenda setters' for other media
organizations, especially broadcast," said Dennis.

6
makes its candidate available?" (Grove September 10 1988: Al). ABC News Executive

President Roone Arledge said the problem lay in the prepackaged and controlled nature of
campaigns. "It's very hard to get the political process through the filter of TV if the
people [in control] don't want the American people to know what the issues are"
(Bmadgasting November 21, 1988: 58-60). Arledge's lament did not exonerate those on
the print side of the media, who did not have to remain beholden to Bush's image-oriented
campaign. One member of a panel hosted by the International Press Institute thought that
the press bore responsibility for allowing Bush to set the pace. "If we don't force a
candidate to address the issues, there's certainly nothing in the internal dynamics of a
campaign to force them to do it," said Gerald Seib, of the W. Bush's
campaign managers assumed it was "within the right of a candidate not to discuss what he
would do [once in office]. They were right in assuming he would get away with it. One
of the worst sins [was that the press] punished the candidate who gave us access and
rewarded the one who shut us out by writing lots of stories about how clever [his aides]
were" (Radolf November 26, 1988: 16). Veteran syndicated W51 columnist
David Broder, speaking at a panel on "Press Coverage of the 1988 Presidential Campaign,"
said the only way to examine issues is through news conferences that would permit the
candidates to engage in a "continuing dialogue." To force Bush to hold more press
conferences, Broder suggested a news boycott (Broadcasting September 26, 1988: 69-70).

Critics remembered the Reagan administration's ability to restrict press access. Reagan,
according to the Commission on Presidential News Conferences, met with the press an
average of six times a year, compared with an average of 12 for his predecessors. "George
Bush campaigned precisely for the job Reagan is now leaving. His campaign was a
microcosm of the redefined presidency--insulated from the press, carefully staged and
scripted for the evening news, immune to real issues," wrote Robert Reich. Reagan held
no press conferences after mid-June in the 1984 presidential campaign (December 5, 1988:
2 1-22).

7
Were critics' accusations fair? A study by the conservative Center for Media and Public

Affairs concluded that the networks' overall coverage "was notable for its balance,
toughness, focus on the issues." The report did include data that showed certain moments
of imbalance, including a 10-day period-August 19-28--in which television network
coverage overwhelmingly tilted in favor of Bush. Bush, the report conceded, received
favorable coverage in 75 percent of the stories from August 19 to August 28, compared
with 26 percent "good press" for Dukakis in that same period. Beyond that, in the three
weeks following the GOP convention, the study found that 44 percent of the TV evening
news reports were favorable to Bush and only 26 percent of the stories were favorable to
Dukakis. Though the authors, S. Robert Lichter, Daniel Amundson and Richard E.
Noyes, conceded this imbalance, they also dismissed it as irrelevant. "By exceeding
expectations be briefly dominated the field as a highly visible, viable and desirable
candidate. His media image and poll ratings soared in tandem as he kicked sand into his
rival's face. It was a textbook demonstration of the power of positive viewing. So, did
television give Bush an unfair boost after all? We think not, unless the canons of media
fairness are interpreted to require balanced coverage during every week of the campaign
..." (Lichter, et a1 18-19, 52). The CMPA study failed to ask several critical questions to
test its content analysis. What effect did the accessibility differences have on the
campaigns? How important was this period of coverage in determining the outlook of
voters? One post-election survey showed that two-thirds of the voters asked had decided
who they would vote for more than a month before the election (Bubthmann
January/February 1989: 27). Did the coverage dictate the tone for the rest of the campaign,

and did it set the terms of debate that would reign thereafter?

8
W

Research for this thesis found a pattern of Republican dominance in source usage
similar to Gannett's findings among the four national newspapers in question in the three-
week period following the GOP convention, although only as extreme in the first week of
the sample period. Between the Magnum the Lemmings and the Chicago
Tribune in the first week, 65 percent of sources used were Republicans, 35 percent
Democratic. The disparity dropped off (53 percent Republican sources to 47 percent
Democratic) in the final two weeks. The W had similar results, giving
overwhelming access to Republicans in the first week (68 percent Republican sources to 32
percent Democrats), but tailing off dramatically in the final two weeks, quoting Democratic
sources 56 percent of the time to the Republicans' 44 percent. Nuances of imbalance,
however, existed beneath the apparent level playing field. Although stories included
Democratic sources with more frequency than in the first week, they commonly portrayed
the Democratic sources in deprecating contexts, often supporting Republican viewpoints
with defensive or self-critical remarks. In one story, for instance, Democrats made five
disparaging remarks and only one positive about fellow Democrats,'while Republicans
made no negative but five positive about their own campaign (T aylor September 5, 1988:
A1). In another, Democrats were portrayed as making five negative and one positive
against their own campaign, while Republicans made three negative and two positive about
their own. Typically, these sources were used to evaluate how their campaigns were
going. In the same story, a Republican source would say of Bush: "He's become a
different candidate. He's just a lot stronger," while a Democratic source said of Dukakis's
seeming unwillingness to take advice or change tactics: "There's a real arrogancethere"
(Margolis August 31, 1988: l).

 

9
IABIEJ

Republican to Democratic sources used

 

 

 

Publication Aug. 21-27 Aug. 28-Sept. 3 Sept. 4-10
Chicarrcln'brme 15-7 10-16 17-11
LAJEsz 23-12 26-22 36-39
W 24-14 35-24 37-30
We: 37-17 30-32 27-40
99-50 1 101-94 ' 117-120

(Smmaaamgtatmam amwmsamaarmaaa and
sin article)

The lamentations of Dukakis's advisers frequently complemented the positive spin
Republican aides gave for Bush. "Everybody who was a player in the Republican
presidential race--all the candidates for the nomination--is in the Bush campaign, but
Democrats just seem to have an aversion to planning this kind of cohesion. Bush is using
all kinds of surrogates on the campaign, but Dukakis just isn't doing it," complained an
unidentified Democratic adviser. In the same story, Republican pollster Richard Wirthlin
was quoted at a breakfast meeting with Washington reporters as saying, Bush has "owned
the dialogue" of the campaign since the GOP convention and polls show him surging all
over the country (Nelson and Lauter September 8, 1988: 20). Wirthlin's "information"
alone contained an inherent bias, given his Republican background, but Washington
journalists like the W‘ Jack Nelson treated him as a credible source, and
thus employed Wirthlin's comments to help create the impressions within a supposedly
objective context. The fact that a Democratic source was used to support Wirthlin's thrust
gave even greater weight to the impression, which could have had an entirely different

complexion had a Democratic rebuttal been used.

10
W

Though broadcast media have home the brunt of much of the criticism for the media's
1988 campaign conduct, this study attempts to Show that the print media made their own
contributions to the campaign's distorted qualities.2 This thesis samples four leading
national newspapers, beginning with the three-week period after the Republican national
convention, and ending with the coverage of the second debate in mid-October. The New
lorklimes. Wat lesAngeleinmes and WJOW 0f the wt)
seven newspaper circulation leaders (Wright 248)»were chosen for their respective
reputations as national media trendsetters, as well as for a rough regional representation.
The W is regarded as the august arbiter of "all the news that's fit to print."
The W31 is known as a voice inside the "beltway," its investigative prowess,
independence and proximity to national politics, and has been accused of favoring a liberal
tilt. The W is representative of a diverse Southern California populace,
aggressive in its reporting, but responsible to a large conservative Orange County
readership. And the W is a leading Midwestern voice regarded for its
conservative editorial stance.

This is tangentially a study about objectivity, so it primarily excludes material from the
opinion and editorial pages. Several columns and editorials are included, not for analysis
per se, but to provide context when helpful. The "op-ed" pages provide a forum for free-
flowing droughts and ideas, forcing a burden of proof on the news sections for objectivity.
Hence, this study, in an attempt to put that burden to test, is derived primarily from "hard
news" stories and " analyses" in the news sections of the newspapers, as one way to
measure their performance in objectivity. Additionally, material for this thesis

encompasses news stories only identified as campaign-related. It does not include

 

2 A word on distortion: No campaign covemge--or for that matter, no form of communication-will ever be
reflective of the total "reality," which exists in dimensions that remain beyond the reach of human capacities.
Distortion here refers to the disparity between perceptions that are readrl' y available. Which accessible bits of
reality were elevated at the expense of those le rmexplored?

11
coverage of issues that may have otherwise influenced voters--such as separate reports on

the economy, though economic reports were often incorporated into campaign storiesnbut
were not a part of the newspapers' campaign package. This thesis does not purport to
assume that the strict news coverage of the campaign is the most influential in determining
votes. The scope of this thesis is not to determine the effect of the national print media's
coverage on voters, nor to place a higher value on news and analysis over commentary or
off-campaign news, or even interpersonal communication. The task of this thesis is to
attempt to understand the role the press determined for themselves, the coverage rules by
which they abided, the perception-shaping function they performed. A focus on strict
campaign news coverage--and its accompanying analysis--provides a window to a
newspaper's guiding standards, to its outlook on such issues as source usage, story
selection, and story angle selection. This thesis also does not assume that the media are a
monolith: it examines four national newspapers as separate entities, from different regions
and editorial histories. From this point on, the phrases "the media," "the press," and
"national print media" will be used to refer to the four newspapers in this study.

The primary task of this thesis is to explore the media's performance during the 1988
campaign, and to attempt to understand some of the reasons behind their editorial choices.
What follows this introductory chapter, in chapter two, is an overview of two theoretical
positions that provide a framework for possible explanations of the press's performances;
chapters three and four delve into a crucial three-week period following the GOP national
convention that illuminates how the press established some perceptional distortions alluded
to above (chapter three examines the WashinthnJZQst, Wu: and W
Times in this period; chapter four examines more closely how the Wes framed
their stories from StrategistS' language and outlook in that same period); chapter five
explores how some conventional wisdoms began to solidify as the campaign headed

toward the first debate; chapter six shows how faithful the coverage of the two presidential

12
debates were to the expectations the press built into the debates; and chapter seven offers a

concluding statement.

CHAPTER II

THEORY

This chapter is designed to provide a glimpse into the philosophy outlining, though not
governing, the research of this thesis. The forthcoming theoretical principle is not intended
to serve as the denouement for this thesis, but should be viewed as one of several possible
explanations for the national press's conduct during the 1988 presidential campaign.
Perhaps the most useful purpose of this theory chapter is the alternative explanations it
promotes. Not only does this thesis question one of the prevailing assumptions about the
1988 campaign--that the media were "manipulated" by superior Republican political
tacticians--but, perhaps more important, it asks what other choices the press could have
made in story selection, poll analysis, story angle, source usage, and others.

The theoretical framework of this chapter scans two approaches to media and cultural
studies--media-routines and ideology theories. The former identifies some of the real-
world, practical dilemmas journalists face, and the latter is employed to demystify some
assumptions about the origins behind media practices in campaign coverage. Shortcomings
of some elements of media-routines theory will be covered, not as a way to dismiss its
many other salient and useful features, but as a progression into an explanation of ideology
theory.

Media coverage of the 1988 campaign revealed pattenrs consistent with media routines

theory fmdings--an inclination toward horse-race coverage (who is up, who is down in the

13

14
polls), personality or character conflicts, campaign strategy, a focus on the trivial and an

aversion for the substantive. The media-routines theory provides a sound foundation for
the understanding of professional restrictions journalists face. Ideology theory provides
clues to a fundamental question facing scholars of media studies: What currents lay behind
the media's seemingly inexorable drift toward their final product? The research material in
this thesis is not presented as proof that ideology per se lay behind press conduct, but that
the rationales behind crucial choices made by the press contained value judgments, an
intrinsic, though not wholly definitive, component of ideology.

Although the two theoretical approaches can appear to have competitive and
unreconcilable positions, this chapter, in part, attempts to Show their complementary
features. What follows first is an overview of some elemental features of media routines
theory. Next, an examination will be made of principles behind the ideology view, which

incorporates the notions of political economy and hegemony.

W

Media routines represent a set of constraints that bind and restrict a journalist's ability to
pursue news in a way that would provide citizens with pr0per information needed to make
informed political decisions. The structural stringencies that inhibit the work of a journalist
have "profound effects on the perceptions people form" (Graber 168). The effects of these
routines are "usually unintended" and are "hardly comprehended" by elites, the public, or
even media practitioners, who may bring many common cultural assumptions to their work
(Paletz and Entrnan 6). The distorted perceptions are the unfortunate but unavoidable result
of media organizations' need to present the news in manageable, clear and attractive form.
News is produced according to "practical considerations." Routines function to "improve

efficiency" of news production. "Tire job of these media organizations is to deliver, with

15
time and space limitations, the most acceptable product to the consumer in the most efficient

manner" (Shoemaker and Reese 87-88).

Media routines are the "unquestioned premises that guide reporting" (Chomsky 12) that
stem largely from the media's attempt to appeal to "the limited attention and interest of the
audience" (Shoemaker and Reese 91). Outcrops of routines include "horse-race coverage"
in national campaigns, personalizing and sensationalizing news, "pack joumalism,"3 and
neglecting trends to focus on daily events (Entrnan 7). In a study that analyzed the 1968,
1972 and 1976 presidential campaigns, the print and broadcast media devoted more than 60
percent of stories to "campaign hoopla, " and the horse-race aspects of the contest; they
slighted political, social or economic problems facing the country and said little about the
merits of solutions proposed, unless these issues were made exciting and visually dramatic.
Political joumalists rarely investigated neglected issues on their own, i.e., they relied on
sources to provide the impetus to pursue certain issues. In these three campaigns, stories
of "campaign incidents" dominated; a majority of stories consisted of familiar names and
"widely salient events" that required little background information, and had the potential for
easily-arranged "pictorial coverage." Social problems such as poverty and the plight of the
elderly lacked novelty and were too complex to describe, involved controversial and
emotionally charged policies that both candidates and the media wanted to avoid "for fear of
alienating large segments of the public," the former wary of losing votes, the latter fearful
of losing audiences or readership. The routines model posits that joumalists' work
regimen forces them to internalize such news values or norms as the avoidance of economic
issues like unemployment, inflation and taxes because they are "hard to explain and
dramatize." The public instead demands political information that appeals to their interest in

personality characteristics, which are "far easier to evaluate" (Graber 178-180).

 

3 Timothy Crouse popularized the term in W: "A group of reporters were assigned to
follow a single candidate for weeks or months at a time, like a pack of hounds sicked on a fox. they all fed
off the same pool report, the same dint)! handout, the same speech by the candidate; the whole pack was
isolated in the same mobile village. ter a while, they began to believe the same rumors, subscribe to the
same theories, and write the same stories" (7-8).

16
Reporters, guided by rules of objectivity, limit their interpretive work to "strategic

terms," eschewing interpretation of policy views or previous policies; they rely on
symbolic content--like "gaffes"--to extrapolate "defects" from candidates, "which
journalists find difficult to expose and report in any other way" under the conditions and
constraints of their work (Paletz and Entrnan 50-52). "The use of vague, simple and
culturally resonant symbols serves joumalists' needs. It conserves space or time
simplifications enhance audience understandings" (Paletz and Entrnan 202). All of the
above elements are driven by the "internal logic of media organizations and personnel"
(Paletz and Entrnan 24). The effect is that election coverage "legitimizes the political
system," while at the same time the entire electoral process is denigrated by the presentation
of surface conflicts rather than an examination of systemic weaknesses (Paletz and Entrnan
53). Voters perceive campaign issues to be irrelevant to their lives, which leads to
consistent decreases in voter turnout. "The lower the voter turnout, the more politics is left
to the 'haves' and the less influence the 'have nots' can expect. As voting levels drop,
power is redistributed toward elites" (Paletz and Entrnan 236-237).
Peter Dahlgren writes that the media, guided by their routines, unintentionally and
unconsciously help maintain
moderate levels of formal political participation non-interference with the powers
of capital to shape the basic contours of society acceptance of the prevailing
social definitions to interpret their experiences and define their needs; and lack of
genuine political power to challenge the dominant social arrangements (qtd. in
Paletz and Entrnan 252).
Media-routines theory aclc- owledges that the "perceptual environment" of a national
campaign is shaped by media interpretation, that "newspeople shape national election
outcomes by molding the images of political reality" (Graber 188). Media content is a
product of a market competition process. Journalists present certain "images of political

reality" because the public demands it. Economic pressures shape the values guiding the

creation of news: brevity, simplicity, predictability and timeliness (Entrnan 19). The nature

17
of the market demands that "news organizations have to respond to public tastes." A

limited demand for "first-rate" journalism causes news organizations to avoid it.

A "vicious circle of interdependence" between public taste and the economic needs of
the media sustains and exacerbates the paucity of "first-rate" journalism. Because
mainstream media do not supply quality political information, Americans "have no practical
source of the information necessary to become politically sophisticated. [I]t would take
an informed and interested citizenry to create enough demand to support top-flight
journalism" (Entrnan 17).

Entrnan places the "origin of the vicious circle" in the "unsophisticated" mass audience.
The "unsophisticated mass audience demands or accepts current news formats, or in many
cases wants no news at all; the dearth of informative 'accountability' news perpetuates an
unsophisticated audience" (Entrnan 21). Some media-routines theorists describe media
content as an "inescapable result of competition" (Entrnan 11). It is not the media that are
to blame, media-routines theorists say. Broadly speaking, the media do provide sufficient
campaign issue coverage. "When voters are poorly informed, it is because elections aren't
important enough" to them. To the average voter, complex issues are time-consuming and
difficult, especially when expert views clash. What voters can judge, based on a "long-
range, cumulative reservoir of general impressions and politically significant feelings and
attitudes," is a candidate's " general ability and integrity." Issues of trust, integrity and
competence are salient to voters, so the content that the media provide "most plentifully is
geared toward such decision making" (Graber 186-187).

The driving forces behind media routines are minimizing organizational costs and
generating profits for media owners and stockholders, say media-routines theorists. One
of the least expensive ways to satisfy mass audiences is to rely upon "legitimate" political
elites for most information. Reliance on official sources reduces the need for costly and

time-consuming research. Paletz and Entrnan define elites as comprising:

18
[Lless than 1 percent of the population, they are the people who make public policy

or whose preferences directly influence government. Public officials, corporation
heads, major interest- group leaders, a few notorious professors and think-tank
denizens, even some celebrated journalists are in this category. They generate most
original policy proposals in reaction to problems and events. Their views define the
conventional wisdom and structure the public debate about politics (185-186).
Additionally, by attributing news content to elite sources, journalists can provide both
legitimacy of and detachment from content. Elites provide a cultural legitimacy by virtue of
the value that Americans attach to social status, economic position and political influence
(Hennan and Chomsky 19). Reliance on political elites is embedded in the concern for
profit, say media-routines theorists. "If using other news sources were significantly more
profitable, it is doubtful the media would be nearly as dependent on elites as they are"
(Entrnan l8). Journalists additionally attach significance to elite sources out of their need to
fulfill their norm of objectivity, which gives them a sense of neutrality. Neutrality connotes
a value-lessness. Objectivity lends credibility to news organizations, which maximizes
their audience appeal, hence securing "their monopoly position in the marketplace," i.e.,
adding to their profitability. "If the news were to be reported in an overtly political or
ideological manner, the market would be ripe for competition" (Soloski 207-228). But
objectivity "confines" reporters, "in most cases unconsciously," within narrow thematic
boundaries. These boundaries are shaped by pervasive, or shared, cultural values, beliefs
and assumptions. According to some routines theorists, journalists, elite sources, and the
public are unaware of the shaping force of these cultural boundaries (Paletz and Entrnan
22).
Those shared assumptions originate from the perspective of the elite and receive

repetitive treatment from the press. '... [E]lites crystallize and define issues they
substantially influence, if they do not establish, public opinion." The mass media, through
its newsgathering procedures, which include heavy reliance on official sources, become
”unwitting handmaidens of the powerful" and transmit content that legitimizes and sustains
the dominant social understandings. The media, as a "routine outcome" of their work,

stabilize social perceptions defined from the elite perspective. "By granting elites

19
substantial control over content, emphases and flow of public opinion, media practices

diminish the public's power" (Paletz and Entrnan 184-194). This reliance on elite sources
becomes magnified during national campaigns, when stories about the "palace court
intrigues" and campaign strategies are a prominent feature. "... [O]ften the press reported

9 more of it than some would have liked. But the press tended to confine its naughtiness
within relatively narrow limits. It was not inclined to step outside the mindset of the
authorities it covered " (Hertsgaard 75).

Another practically institutionalized routine in campaign coverage is news organizations'
reliance on opinion polls. The trend in poll-driven stories reached peaks in 1984 and 1988,
when more than a third of poll stories led television newscasts. The W
doubled its polling activities between 1984 and 1988 (from 17 surveys in 1984 to 34 in
1988). In 1988, the W5 teamed up with CBS to conduct 31 polls, producing
35 stories exclusively from poll data; another 135 integrated polling data into more general
political stories (Lavrakas and Holley 79). Newspapers and broadcast news organizations
teamed up during the 1980s to conduct their own polls in "drumbeat" fashion, ostensibly to
answer the question apparently lingering in the public's mind: who's ahead? Polls also
provided "something to report"; they include questions on a wide array of issues of public
concem. And they helped reporters gauge "how things are going." W
Pulitzer Prize winning political reporter David Broder said, "the reporters on the
candidates' planes are probably in the worst position to see how the race is going" so polls
provide welcome perspective. But polls are increasingly being seen as subverting the
electoral process rather than complementing it. W Poll Director I.A.
"Bud" Lewis conceded after the 1988. election that "it is arguable that public opinion polls
were often co-opted, made to be a tool of campaign manipulation rather than a mirror of
public will ..." (Lavrakas and Holley l4). Extensive use of polling data is a fairly recent

news routine, the result of "competitive pressures" that began in earnest in 1980. Their use

can also be seen as a result of pressures to conform to the norm of objectivity. Polling data

20
provides "a reference point of interpretation" that rules of objectivity prohibit in other areas

of political reporting (Cantril 86).

Professional norms of journalism and the economic interests of their news organizations
govern the slant of the news by guiding the decisions on lead stories, space or time
allocation. Media have scant incentive or ability to elevate truth over other news values, so
the safest bet is to stand behind the label " objectivity" and all other routines that descend
from this professional norm. These practices limit the ability of journalists to offer
audiences explicit assessments of truth, distortion and falsehood (Entrnan 7-38).

Paletz and Entrnan conclude that media ultimately help preserve the legitimacy of
America's political, economic and social system through socialization and status quo
adjustments. Media routines-«he goals, practices and limitations--both act as agencies for
the maintenance of the socio-political system and are guided by cultural assumptions that
uphold the system. "Automatically, stories omit, disparage, or dilute proposals and
critiques that undermine the American ideology" (Paletz and Entrnan 250-252). The
media's impact on the relationship between elites and the mass publicuperpetuating elites'
position as primary arbiters and interpreters of social issues and events--stems from the
sustained attention the media endow to elites and their failure to seek other perspectives as
equally valid. Journalists view the world from the perspective of elite sources, say Paletz
and Entrnan, because it is "expedient," and derives from news organizations' need to fuel
the twin engines of capitalism, efficiency and profit (Paletz and Entrnan 19-20).

This critique is useful in demonstrating practices and limitations of the press, ostensible,
subjective realities driving their practices, and effects on social relations. It stresses that the
news industry has had to keep pace with the audience in an inexorable tilt toward less
sophisticated, less intellectually challenging forms of political news. The news industry
has had to alter the shape of its product so it fits more easily into the cultural environment.
Earlier media-routines theory critiques were sociologically rather than economically based.

From this perspective, joumalists' professionalism--routines--and decisions flowing from

21
their professionalism, serve organizational interests. The "classification system of

newsworthiness"-priorities often viewed as news slants or biases -is created out of
deadlines and "rhythms of wor " The media, in this view, operate as "complex
organizations subject to certain inevitable processes." In short, news is a social institution,
an "institutional method of making information available to consumers a product of
newsworkers drawing upon institutional processes and conforming to institutional
practices" (T uchman 1—4, 12). The later critique relies on a natural law of economics
logic, the inevitablity of market forces. It also positions media as a helpless organism
"straitjacketed or handcuffed by its own routines," and subject to manipulations of those
cognizant of those routines (Shoemaker and Reese 112). The failure of this critique is in its
faith that routines descend from the goal of profit--that news values are shaped by the press
owners' desire to maximize their audience, hence profits--and in its neglect of the political
implications of profit-seeking. Capital accumulation is a concept that requires ideological
mobilization, given its historically uneven distribution. Gabriel Kolko, in Ihflrjmnphof
anmafism, claims this to be the "dominant fact" of American society in the 20th
century. Kolko argues that the growth of the corporate sector during the "Progressive"
period was a result of "political rather than economic power"; that a rapid growth of the
capitalist market required the "intervention of something more decisive than long-terrn
impersonal natural economic processes." The crucial factor in the American experience,
writes Kolko, "was the nature of economic power which required political tools to
rationalize the economic process, and that resulted in a synthesis of politics and economics"
(290-301). Thus, the goal for profit requires active, conscious ideological input. The
process of screening out alternative views and legitimizing elite views then, although
systemized through routines, should be seen as a political act, however removed the forces

behind it.

22
The limitations of media routines theory-just as for other media influences, such as

organizational, external and individual--rest in the failure to place accountability in the
media's role in political socialization:
[E]vents identified as newsworthy represent a statement of not only what sells or
what will fit the confines of a report, but also of what is seen to be of importance or
interest in a culture that requires selling and that mandate product conformity to the
broadest appeal as demanded by commercial interests (Rachlin 12).
Rather than serving as explanations for flawed campaign coverage, the constraints resulting
from media routines should be viewed as a predictable outcome of ideological
requirements. The ideological critique views these routines as positive mechanisms for the
reproduction of the dominant value system. The assumption, in media-routines theory, is
that journalists internalize constraints and do their work within a framework of limitations
intended to maximize the attractiveness of the product. This theory contends that the
product is being manufactured and tailored to the tastes of the consumer, that media content
merely reflects the tastes of its consumers. It also assumes that the values are agreed-upon
and organic; that is to say, that the tastes and values originate in the public domain. This
gives full ideological autonomy to the public and divests media (or more to the point, media
owners) of responsibility for shaping the content of the news. It takes a leap of faith to say
that an institution in and of a broader cultural continuum is somehow above and distinct
from those cultural or political forces that shape it.

Conflicts inherent in the media-routines argument can be found in reporters' use of
official sources. It is difficult to ascribe anything other than an ideological imperative to the
way journalists handle competing elite interests. The 1988 campaign, as will be shown in
the next chapter, provides evidence of journalists placing heavier value on Republican-
source opinions than on Democratic. One justification used by journalists to explain this
imbalance was that Republican sources were considered more "professional"; they
understood the needs and processes of the media more than Democrats, so they were

rewarded accordingly. The omission or denigration of alternative political views, however,

requires a value placement by journalists. Journalists often locate this value in their

23
interpretations of the public mood (they choose their elite sources based on their

perceptions of the public mood). But, as stated below, public opinion can be skewed and
misrepresented, and is more often driven by elite definitions of social events. A whole
construction of meaning must often precede the public's opinion formulation. This
requires an initial choice by the media, an activation of elite-source opinion. Hence, the
value of sources is, at best, less determined by the public than routines-theorists might
contend. At worst, journalists (driven by the internalized value-system of their
organization) are wholly responsible for determining the value of sources, of choosing
which elites contain "permissable views," and which are in the minority. This returns us to
the basic argument of this thesis: the choices made by the media are based on which group
they perceive to adhere closest to the political-economic system. Joumalists' 1988
campaign post-mortem expressions of frustration over being manipulated--and having no
control over it--are steeped in the media-routines assumptions: Republicans were able to
manipulate them because of the GOP's familiarity with the media's professional requisites.
This thesis, however, will u'y to show that the Republican ability to essentially control the
media's agenda had little to do with the media's failure to resist manipulations, but more to
do with their willing-conscious or not-acceptance of Republican definitions of campaign
issues. This willingness was driven by ideological rather than professional considerations.
As Chomsky writes, "Divisions among elites are reflected in media debate. If policy fails,
or is perceived to‘be harmful to powerful interests, media will contest government policy
and- urge different ways to achieve unquestioned assumptions and goals" (75). Chomsky's
thought can be taken to the next level: if a national candidate's views are viewed to be
"harmful to powerful interests," that candidate will be urged "different ways to achieve

unquestioned assumptions and goals."

24
W

Analyzing the media's political-economic relationship to the American power structure--
rather than merely the economic-Trees us of the notion that the press can be analyzed
independent of social and cultural forces; it locates the press within an overall framework of
American culture and forces us to acknowledge their relationship with the elite power
structure's ideological imperatives. The press's interest in preserving the larger liberal-
capitalist system locks them into the function of helping to maintain the boundaries of
acceptable political discourse (Reese 390-409). If it is understood that the press is a
corporate actor--rather than merely playing an unconsciously supportive role--the stakes
become clearer and more understandable.4 Ideology or political economy theory starts
with the assumption that

[i]t is [the media's] function to amuse, entertain, and inform, and to inculcate
individuals with the values, beliefs, and codes of behavior that will integrate them
into the institutional structures of the larger society. In a world of concentrated
wealth and major conflicts of class interests, to fulfill this role requires systematic
propaganda (Herman and Chomsky 1).
Ideology theory places the origin of cultural values in the hands of a dominant, or elite,
class, borrowing from Karl Marx the idea that the production of material as well as cultural
goods is controlled by those with means of production (Parenti 60). Farrell Corcoran
writes, in "Ideology and Consciousness," that Marx defined ideology as a "relatively
formal and articulated system of meanings, values and beliefs a systematic orientation of
thought ..." that speaks for a particular group. It conceals, disguises and mystifies its
subject matter to shape feelings, illusions, habits of thought and conceptions of life (qtd. in
Thomas 6). From a "late-capital" perspective, the reach of the postwar expansion of

corporate power has extended into, among other things, the "visions that sustain a people."

Corporations' widening economic role has been accompanied by a parallel expansion of its

 

4 See Herman and Chomsky's breakdown of the major media's corporate interests (3-14).

25
cultural and political role. "The growth of private corporate power is seen as the prime

contractor in the construction of contemporary bounds to expression" (Schiller 3-4).

Political economy or ideology dreary is compatible with media routines theory in its
contention that the ideological imperatives of "higher power centers in society" are
embedded in the processes of media production of news. These ideological imperatives are
served by and determine media routines. In media routines, news is gathered and
presented in a way that seems structured by shared cultural or political assumptions and
values-- derived from the "common coin of society." But ideology theory states that these
"shared" assumptions are actively organized by values commensurate with the dominant
capitalist ideology. The world is presented in a way that the power elite structures it, which
is favorable to their political and economic interests. Money and power are positive, active
elements serving to "filter out the news fit to print, marginalize dissent, and allow the
government and dominant private interests to get their messages across to the public"
(Herman and Chomsky 2).

The point of conflict between the ideology and media-routines perspectives centers
around the degree of autonomy the public has in making cultural decisions. The ambiguity
of the media-routines view is its postulation of the "vicious circle" informing media content:
The public taste apparently dictates content at the same time the content dictates the public
taste. Ultimately, content originates in the public taste, media-routines theorists claim,
because the media's quest for profit depends on public consumption of their product. This
view coincides with the notion that the audience produces equal or greater meaning to/than
media content; people bring their own experiences and values into their interpretations,
overriding meanings produced externally. One routine media use in campaigns to affirrn
the audience's (or readership's) role in determining content is the use of polling and
surveying data. But, studies show that polling often serves a political or social function
rather than merely reflecting social climates. Public opinion has often been distorted, and

later shaped by the distortions. Paletz and Entrnan demonstrate that the media kept up a

 

26
sustained portrayal of the public's "conservative mood" despite data that showed the

opposite. After ten .years of such claims-facilitated by the interepretations of elites, the
public mood began to show signs of shifts toward conservatism (Paletz and Entrnan 196-
213). "Insights into the public's actual, complicated collective opinions available from
surveys, election data, and scholarly analysis of voting pattems rarely altered most
joumalists' portrayals of public sentiments as unambiguously conservative." Being the
routines-theory critique with which this pattern was treated, Entrnan ultimately argued that
the roots for such distortions lay in journalists opting for "simple symbols" (for example,
applying labels such as conservative vs. liberal, instead of exploring the shadings between
the two) to describe trends, rather than ideology (Entrnan 86-87).

In the ideological argument, media content originates in the dominant sphere; cultural
power exists within an entire "apparatus of domination" that includes the media, but also
includes other cultural institutions-- governmental, religious, educational--that purvey the
values, norms, attitudes and beliefs of those in charge of those cultural insitutions (Schiller
151). Marx's "superstructure" serves as a literary, political and ideological mechanism for
the elite to maintain power (Altschull 92-93). The public's "predispositions" are partly, if
not largely, shaped within the framework of the dominant ideology. Various interacting
cultural forces and institutions, or "socializing agencies" shape outlooks, but are also
shaped by the media. "... at least some of our internalized political predilections derive
from the dominant political culture that the press has a hand in shaping ..." (Parenti 21).
So, while a cultural product (news) requires saleability, the very consumer mindset that
ensures a product's saleability is shaped by the values produced from the dominant, elite,
or corporate sector.

The press's misrepresentations "are not usually accidental ..." Distortions, "not due to
chance or to the idiosyncratic qualities of news production or newspeople," are "repeatable
and systemic--the product not only of deliberate manipulation but of the ideological and

economic conditions under which the media operate" (Parenti 1). So, while the media--as

27
an institution serving the financial interests of ownersudo function to maximize profits,

they could not do so without fulfilling their ideological role. Schiller contends that the
corporate sector views communications and culture to be profitable as well as politically
expedient (46); that corporate control over public expression is a necessary "key lever of
power" that enables the corporate economy to maximize profits (28). The dominant
ideology is a function of capitalism and capitalism is a function of the dominant ideology.
The two are inseparable. An example of corporations taking positive action with media
content is reflected in the growth of corporate-sponsored media-monitoring institutions that
function in pressure-applying roles. Organizations such as The Media Institute, the Center
for Media and Public Affairs, and Accuracy in Media Operate under corporate funding and
produce reports that concentrate on the media's portrayal of economic issues, the business
community, and politics. Their studies regularly conclude that the media are liberal
institutions, as upholders of a faith in government and suspicion of private enterprise, a
prevailing conventional wisdom whose broad acceptance has ostensibly kept news
organizations on the defensive. The media's ready acceptance of their conclusions and the
access they provide these organizations' views (on editorial pages, through interviews,
etc.) disproportionate to the views of liberal organizations like Fairness and Accuracy in the
Media--which is "regularly excluded from debate and refused publication"--is one
indication of the active role corporations have in shaping media content (Herman and
Chomsky 390). Other indications are the techniques used by news organizations to control
thebehavior of their employees, such as the hiring and firing practices alluded to below (or
the insistence by news management that those with non-mainstream values keep them out
of news accounts); and the implicit pressures advertisers bring to bear (Reese 390-409;
Herman and Chomsky 2; Altschull 254). Ben Badgikian writes that not only are most
mass media outlets under corporate control, but outside corporate interests bear "relentless"

pressure on these outlets to ensure the predominance of their worldview:

28
Business had special advantages in its attack on the media. It had priviliged access to

media executives through common corporate associations and lobbies, and it could
produce large-scale advertisements to counter antibusiness news and, increasingly to
use as threats of withdrawal against hostile media (Bagdikian 56).

Ideology theory places cultural institutions, like the media, squme within the dominant
domain, as transmitters of a cohesive ideology "that serves to reproduce and legitimate" the
dominance of the ruling elite-which in turn produces conditions favorable to economic
needs of the elite. Educational, religious, popular, economic and political institutions all
contribute to the process of shaping societal values commensurate with the dominant
ideology, all feed into a "diet of systemic values they are commodities and ideological
products, embodying the rules and values of the market system that produced them"
(Schiller 33). The press not only repeatedly reproduces images supportive of existing
social and economic relations, but its consistent performance in that count must be seen as
tantamount to performing a specific role. Parenti asks: "Is the selectivity one that struggles
against the limitations imposed by time, Space and official manipulation? Or is it an
ideological selectivity that uses these conditions as an excuse to stay away from more
unsettling information and opinion?" (Parenti 55-57). Herman and Chomsky conclude that
the national mass media act as

effective and powerful ideological institutions that carry out a system-supportive
propaganda function by reliance on market forces, internalized assumptions and self-
censorship, and without significant overt coercion. This propaganda system has
become even more efficient in recent decades with the rise of the national television
networks, greater mass-media concentration, right-wing pressures on public radio
and television, and the growth in scope and sophistication of public relations and
news management. (.306)

News production is not a "purely autonomous process, responsive only to its own
internal imperatives." The methods used to sustain the dominant ideology are active, not
passive. One of the most prevalent forms of ideology-sustaining methods is omission, that
is, deliberate decisions to refuse space or time to divergent views. When those divergent
views do find their way into the media, they do not receive the kind of sustained media

treatment required to create political awareness. Where the official view may frequently

appear with little or no counterview, the divergent must almost always face the

29
countervailing elite position. Subtle differences in the kind of treatrnent--hostile or

vigorous questioning versus friendly or respectful-also diminish the positive impact of
divergent views. This is called false balancing (Parenti 191- 199).

A Gramscian interpretation of this ideological framework concedes relative autonomy to
both the media and consumers of media products. The ruling powers do not directly
oversee the media's cultural production, but the implicit rules and values of the dominant
culture work in a regulatory fashion so as to obviate the need for direct intervention. Media
owners allow their employees enough latitude to present a "tolerably realistic portrayal of
the world" (Herman and Chomsky 303), a function of absorbing potentially disruptive
social tensions and conflicts. This is the hallmark of hegemony theory. Hegemony, writes
Raymond Williams, "does not passively exist as a form of dominance. It has continually to
be renewed, recreated, defended and modified" (qtd. in Shoemaker and Reese 194).
Prevailing social and political customs are not perceived as dominant constructs, but as
being arrived at by negotiation, contradiction, tension, debate, trial and error. "Hegemonic
ideology represents not simply a dominant view, but a world view that is seen as 'natural.‘
The tools we use to understand our world are provided for us within a social context.
These tools serve to reinforce the stability of the social context. In this way, the tools must
be considered to be political in nature" (Rachlin 24). Koch describes a "textual pattern" that
represents a "narrative form" in news accounts and forms the perceived social realities.
These narratives lie within the "accepted social context"--stories that continually refer to
central images of the American experience, such as the "rugged individualist" story (Koch
20). Deviance is similarly a part of the narrative; much news is about the "violation of
values" (Gans 40). Change through revolutionary tactics, or dissent, for instance, is
described in condemnatory language (Gitlin chapters 2-7). News accounts remain loyal to
and consistent with the "social context," which is based .on a "cultural history (and)
material and cognitive realities (Koch 20). Gramscian theory concedes that "subordinated

groups " (non-elites) form their own histories and traditions, hold their own distinct values.

30
They define much of their own social realities through their own popular forms of

entertainment and political and social institutions (Borgatta and Borgatta 1493-1494). It is
through these "collective forces and social arrangements," however, that the power
structure administers its dominant ideology. Power relations, according to the hegemony
theory, are "understood to be infused into the fabric of a social system" (Rachlin 23-24).
The ruling-class ideology is not monolithic; great debate occurs over the meansueven
among elites--but ultimately those varying means converge toward a single end: the
economic stability and perpetuation of the capitalist system, which can be translated to
mean the interests of those in control of the country's productive capacities.

In order to avoid appearances of exerting plutocratic control, media owners allow for
appearances of autonomy. Dissent is permitted, and, in some circumstances, even
encouraged, but only if it remains within "acceptable ideology" (Altschull 272). The
institutional process, or what Reese calls the "news paradigm," is one of the conduits
through which the dominant ideology is controlled. The texture and direction of news are
constrained in part by hiring and firing practices, a system of built-in penalties and
rewards, and the organizational socialization of journalists (Reese 390-409). Joumalists'
"relative autonomy" results in occasionally uncomfortable stories for the ruling interests;
mostly, they are done in ways that target individual blemishes as isolated and atypical rather
than systemic problems (Parenti 221-222). '

The producers of the news may not be fully aware of their role as "purveyors" of
cultural myths, values and legitimating viewpoints; of how they misrepresent, slant, and
omit the news. Reporters and editors may be simply products of the same "political
socialization," as are media owners and political leaders. But the product of the news-the
content--fmds its conduit through the systematic mechanisms at the disposal of owners:
ideological controls, such as hiring and firing practices, from which descend some of the
above-stated professional norms (like anticipatory self-editing). These controls may be

internalized and unstated, but they are results of overt, conscious, deliberate decisions

31
made by media owners who "treat information and culture as vital instruments of class

power" (Parenti 225-226). Members of the elite class have perfected methods of
maintaining social, political and economic relations "by using the media to generate
support, compliance, and just plain confusion among the public" (W. Lance Bennett, qted.

in Herman and Chomsky 303).

W

The 1988 campaign contained pro forma elements for a classic media-studies case. It
provides a preponderance of issues that fit into the pattern of previous campaigns around
which media-routines and ideology theories have gained their basis. The 1988 campaign
raises questions such as: How were certain campaign issues elevated or suppressed? How
prevelant was the media's focus on the conflictual? How prevelant were strategic issues?
What context was used to frame stories? What long-terrn images emerged out of the story
frames? In what ways did the media rely on official sources? In a national campaign, with
competing elites' interests being battled over, how did the media decide which of the two
main groups is to be elevated as the more credible?

Perhaps the single, overarching issue encompassing the dispute over the media's role in
the 1988 campaign circles around the notion of autonomy. The common complaint by
media practitioners themselves was that they were helpless, unable to handle the adroit
campaign of Bush handlers; that they were manipulated by Republicans, who had
developed a public relations expertise through the Reagan years designed to manage news
by the very rules that dictated media practices. Republicans had fed the media what they
wanted: aesthetic, photogenic images; snappy, controversial, conflictual text. They
provided guidance for a sharply divisive campaign in what might otherwise have been a
dull match between a pair of candidates who failed to inspire the nation's interest. This

notion of media compliance implies that media practitioners possess a basic autonomy that

 

 

32
somehow was violated. It overlooks the possibility that media routines--thus, the political

discourse that is produced—are a construct of dominant interests, and that indeed,
practitioners, or journalists, have little autonomy outside of the ideological framework that
is provided them. As Alan Rachlin states,
We can best understand how the press serves the needs of democracy--or fails to do
so-[by going] beyond the organizational and journalistic issues and place the
examination of the press in a social context beyond individual organizations or the
journalistic profession (3).

One purpose of this thesis is to suggest the role of political economy as one explanation
of the press's conduct in the 1988 campaign; the press's framing of campaign accounts
could have been derived from (mostly unconscious) ideological perspectives. This thesis
contends that Republican expropriation of media routines had less to do with the
"manipulation" of the press than to do with the press's built-in readiness to accept such
expr0priation. In other words, Republican "manipulation" could not have been achieved if
not for their ideological symmetry with the interests of the corporate sector, in which the
media hold a central place. The manipulation critique can be tested by questioning some of
the assumptions that guide media routines. If the media had made moderately alternative
"news judgments"--decisions not guided by media routines, or by some and not others--
what other contextual frames might have emerged? What patterns of suppressions,
shadings and emphasis emerged? What general agenda or tone emerged? By proposing
alternatives and examining the choices journalists made, the following text should
demonstrate how the built-in assumptions of the media routines tended, in the 1988
presidential campaign, toward ideological needs of elites in power; that the media indeed

acted as "agents of power," rather than as independent institutions operating in the

"moralizing manner of the crusader ..." (Altschull 122).

CHAPTER III

POST-GOP CONVENTION COVERAGE

W .

The Bush campaign clearly strived to make an early impact on the race. Most Bush
strategists targeted the period immediately following the Republican convention as the time
that the campaign would capture the attention and sentiments of voters. This idea was
home from traditional voting habits, which showed quadrennially that most voters decide
on their choice at least a month before the election. The strategy was borne out: in a 1988
exit poll, 67 percent of the 11,645 voters who responded said they'd decided on their
choice earlier than in the last month of the campaign (Erhfigflninjgn January/February ,
1989: 27). One pollster said intense pre-Labor Day campaigning was a new prerequisite to
modern national politics. "The idea that presidential campaigns start after Labor Day is an
old notion. It has changed. Huge sums are raised early now and it burns a hole in the
pockets. The campaigns don't wait" (Love Aug. 31, 1988: 15).

The Republican strategy was to divert the public from issues that had driven Bush's
negative ratings as high as 41 percent--the highest negative rating for any major party's
presidential candidate after nomination in 30 years (Taylor June 12, 1988: Al). The
Pentagon defense contract scandal, the Iran-Contra affair and the legal troubles of Attorney

General Edwin Meese, as well as his toady, or "wimpish" image, rated high in the minds

33

34
of voters as a reason to dislike Bush. "He got out front on the defense contract thing, but

there's no question that Iran-Contra and other things have damaged him and impacted on
his credibility. If it weren't for that, he'd probably be even with Dukakis in the polls," one
senior Bush adviser told the W‘ Jack Nelson. The success of Bush's
strategy rested on shedding the "disadvantages of incumbency" (ethical failures of the
Reagan administration with which voters associated Bush) and vesting Bush with the
advantages of incumbency, peace and prosperity, said Bush's pollster Robert Teeter
(Nelson January 25, 1988: 1). Another tactic was to frame Bush's transformation around
the media's definition of Bush as a "wimp." One voter, 73-year old retired businessman
Lloyd Iback, summed up the view that Bush stood in Reagan's shadow: "Bush is not the
man Reagan is. He can't get the people enthused like Reagan could" (Dionne June 3,
1988: A14). A11 Bush had to do was to stand tall and defiant to turn those negatives
around. Attacking was a way to project a clear vision and leadership.

Indeed, Bush already laid the groundwork for momentum before the GOP convention
with scathing attacks on Dukakis in the first week of June that included criticism of the
Democrat's furlough program, in which convicted killer Willie Horton's story became a
familiar campaign theme; criticism of Dukakis's veto of a bill requiring teachers to recite the
Pledge of Allegiance; and a rumor floated by Republican surrogates--picked up by the press
without substantiation--that Dukakis sought psychiatric treatment after his brother's death
in 1973 and his own defeat for renomination as governor in 1978. Republican strategist
Iee Atwater rationalized the early attacks by saying that issues like the Pledge of Allegiance
and Willie Horton were "so unbelievable that if we waited until October, voters would
dismiss it as a typical campaign smear. These things need time to work their way into the
public's consciousness" (Taylor June 12, 1988: A1). The furlough and flag attacks already
showed signs of effect by midsummer, as Dukakis's negatives began to rise and his lead
over Bush shrank. "Dukakis's grounds were so shaky," wrote Iime magazine's Laurence

Barrett, "he was vulnerable" when Republicans floated the psychiatric rumor in early

35
August (September 12, 1988: 20-21). Though the rumor was put to rest within two days,

the damage was done: in one poll, Dukakis lost 10 points off his l7-point lead going into
the GOP convention. A W poll of 948 registered voters had Dukakis leading 55-
38 (Martz August 1, 1988: 14-17); Dukakis led by 12 points in a late July Washington
Post-ABC News poll, but only three points just prior to the convention (Peterson
September 1, 1988: A1). Another factor in Dukakis's descent was that his lead was not
"hard" or insurmountable to begin with, which both undermines the argument that Bush's
attacks were the sole determinant in Dukakis's drop in the polls and the perception that
Bush had come from so far behind. The Post's David Broder and Paul Taylor wrote: " [In]
the judgment of knowledgeable politicians in both parties despite a succession of early
polls showing Dukakis more than 10 points ahead of Bush neither has really connected
with the swing voters" (June 5, 1988: A1). Ironically, late-June reports showed that
Bush's attacks were not effective-Dukakis maintained a 51-to-39 percent lead over Bush
on June 20-and Bush's campaign began to worry "that repeated harsh attacks by Bush
would backfire," though they still planned to use surrogates for the "heavy-hitting" charges
(Hoffman June 22, 1988: A5). Some aides worried that Bush would never define himself:
After eight years of standing in Reagan's shadow, wrote the W' Gerald
Boyd, "now he is having difficulty defining himself because of the belief that he must tear
down the positive image of Mr. Dukakis before it grows" (June 22, 1984: A1). Three days
later, Bush "ignored widespread criticism in escalating his rhetoric" (Peterson June 25,
1988: A6). The first indications that Bush's attacks were paying off was in a poll
published June 30, showing Dukakis's lead down to 46-to-4l. "The race is tightening, as
Bush and other Republicans have started highlighting what they see as Dukakis's
vulnerabilities" (Hoffman June 30, 1988: A14).

36
W

It was during the three-week post-convention period that Bush overtook Dukakis in the
polls, a lead Bush never relinquished. Bush defined himself in this interval as a man of
convictions, relishing the media's descriptions of him as a "pit bull." Compared with
earlier, less flattering depictions, the new image fed into the overall perception of his
momentum. Bush's sudden rise in the polls during the three-week period following the
Republican convention ran in conjunction with the media's portrayal of Bush as a changed
candidate. David Gergen, one of the architects of Ronald Reagan's image-driven
presidency, wrote, "Politically, Bush has been running a superb campaign in the past three
weeks, showing a much keener instinct than Dukakis for capturing the public air waves.
..." (September 12, 1988: 76). Dukakis's campaign within this span was pockrnarked
with missed opportunities and blunders. Many in his own party derided Dukakis's delayed
reactions to Bush's attacks, his uninspiring stump style, his tendency to stray from his own
"theme of the day," and particularly, his "hopelessly lawyer-like thrust" on his stance on
the Pledge of Allegiance imbroglio (TRB September 26, 1988: 4; Love and Weinstein
September 6, 1988: 14). Dukakis's mistakes, however, might have been regarded as
harmless if he'd been operating under less lopsided circumstances stemming from g
accessibility differences. The press also gave Bush license to define Dukakis as a Jimmy
Carter-style liberal, without offering any serious challenge to Bush's record in the Reagan
administration. In the end, the contributions of the press in this period allowed Bush to
seize the agenda and forced Dukakis on the defensive.

During this crucial period, the press rebuffed repeated efforts by the Dukakis campaign
to gain coverage on equal footing with the Bush campaign. Dukakis waged no fewer than
six major issue thrusts in this span, but the press repeatedly portrayed Dukakis as on the
defensive, as idle, and as having no game plan; Bush reportedly controlled the debate. In

fact, if it weren't for the structure of media coverage-geared toward day-by-day coverage

 

37
and driven by a fascination with "revelation" and the newness of news, which fit cozily

into the Republican "message-of-the-day" tactic-Dukakis's campaign would have been
seen as far more aggressive and issue-oriented than it was. Other factors that may have
driven Dukakis into a perceived defensiveness: the press's growing inclination to play it
safe with Republicans (avoiding the familiar charge of liberal bias); the press's news
values, which leaned heavily on "neutral" subjects such as campaign strategy and tactics,
focused on the candidates' daily behavior, and avoided policy issues. The press was guilty
of lacking perspective, relying on symbols over substance; choosing the simple over the
complex; and focusing on the charge-countercharge pace of the campaign without forcing a

true dialogue.

9.. A 0 I{!=M*,0 a "01* t. a” 0;".

W

By August 21, Bush glowed from the press's new estimation of him, thanks in part to a
post-convention "bounce," that catapulted Bush to a nine-point lead in a Gallup poll (Martz
August 29, 1988: 16-20). Described as sharp in style, freshened in his speeches, Bush
was now a "different candidate from the one plodding across the nation for months, greeted
by folks who rarely offered more than polite response [he has] delivered more
enthusiasm than at any time in his run for the presidency" (Decker August 21, 1988: 23).
The fact that Bush made the decision on his own on Dan Quayle as his running mate now
superceded the choice itself, which was still considered, even by Republican party
regulars, a blunder. "But it was Bush's decision," wrote the Chicagflrihnne‘s Charles
Madigan. "He made it clear at a luncheon last Thursday that he would stick with it, and he
also resolved any question about who was in charge. It seemed a new George Bush.

No waffling. No mumbling. No gaffes. He took off his glasses and fixed his gaze on the

38
gathered Republicans and told them how it would be: '... I'm going to set the agenda

(August 21, 1988: .26).

Apparently, the media wanted to be "ahead" on this angle, so stories began to assert that
Bush, delivering fiery speeches in defense of Quayle, who apparently "damn sure didn't
burn the American flag," may be "turning the corner on Quay " (McNulty August 23,
1988: 12). Headlines reiterated Bush's claim that the Quayle storm was a "tempest in a
teapot." At the same time, the media began to question whether Dukakis's campaign was
fully engaged. On August 22, Philip Lentz used the quotes of several Democratic sources
to show that Dukakis‘s standard message--"on economic opportunity and leadership for the
90s"-was "losing its force." Lentz's story gave a glimpse of the conditions of press
coverage under which Dukakis operated: " Reporters are looking for news every day.
When the candidate doesn't generate news in his speeches--invariably he doesn't--reporters
try to pry some out of him at news conferences. That's how candidates find themselves on
the defensive." Democratic political consultant David Axelrod said correctly, "Given the
voraciousness of the news media, if you don't make the news, someone else is going to."
The story did not point out that Bush did not face the same prying (Lentz August 22, 1988:
4).

Meanwhile, the only way Dukakis could enter the fray was to fend off false Republican
charges that he used influence to avoid the Korean War. Finally, on August 24, Dukakis
got through the post-convention Quayle ruckus by trying to turn Bush's Pledge of
Allegiance issue on its head. Dukakis drew an analogy between what he called Bush's
disdain for constitutional law that forbade forced pledges and a "pattem" of broken or
ignored laws in the Reagan-Bush administration. The W3 saw Dukakis's
comments as a "signal to go on the offensive while Bush remains mired in the
controversies surrounding" Quayle (Lauter August 24, 1988: 16; Love and Decker August
25, 1988: l). The Tribune's interpretation differed: "While Dukakis forcefully defended

his position, the pledge controversy marked the second day in a row he has been forced to

39
respond to GOP charges. In fact, Dukakis has been on the defensive for most of the last

month, a development that wonies Democratic strategists" (Lentz August 24, 1988: 1).
The terms of the debate over the state of Dukakis's campaign were thus defined: Was he on
the offensive or not? The loser in that debate would be Dukakis's message.

The winner was Bush, whose campaign structure allowed only the picture of a
candidate on the attack. Bush responded to Dukakis's charges on his own terms, painting
the pledge issue in a patriotic scheme, rather than legal. "What is it about the Pledge of
Allegiance that upsets him so much?" Bush asked rhetorically. Bush could ignore
Dukakis's reference to "patterns" of broken or ignored laws because no reporter pressed
him during a rare press conference on Aug. 24. The questioning corps saw fit only to fetch
Bush's stance on the constitutionality of a Pledge of Allegiance bill, which Bush bravely
said he would sign. At this point, a Gallup poll indicated that Bush was maintaining his
lead over Dukakis, 48-44 percent; Bush's "negative" ratings had dropped from 42 percent
to 33 percent, and his favorable rating rose from 51 percent to 60 percent (Tamales
Ijmes August 24, 1988: 15).

A day later, August 25, Dukakis was back on the attack, this time spelling out a clear
line of argument on the Reagan-Bush administration's ethical standards. He called the
administration's dealings with Panamanian dictator Manuel Noriega "criminal," and derided
the administration's anti-drug efforts as "ridiculous" and " absurd. " "How can we ask our
neighbors in Latin America to crack down on drugs when we have an administration that's
in bed with one of the biggest thugs on the continent?" (Lauter August 26, 1988: 15). It
was fiery language intended to draw out the most incredulous in Bush. White House
Spokesman Marlin Fitzwater initially rebutted the charges with a ream of achievement-
oriented statistics, and a challenge for Democrats: "Are they willing to take sanctions
against people who use drugs? That's the issue we face" (Lentz August 26, 1988: 5).
Bush responded with his "sharpest attacks" yet on Dukakis, on August 26, accusing
Dukakis of insulting drug enforcement officers killed in the line of duty.

40
What followed was a peculiar sequence of coverage. The East's Bill Peterson, in an

August 27 story, juxtaposed Dukakis's actual comments against Bush's rhetorical
manipulation of his words. Peterson reported that "Bush did not respond to the
substance of Dukakis's attack," but instead implied that Dukakis was calling the efforts of
the drug enforcement officers absurd. Peterson corrected Bush, writing, "Dukakis said it
was absurd that the US. spent twice as much money trying to overthrow the government
of Nicaragua as it did in the war against drugs, and that the administration's relationship
with Noriega, under indictment for drug trafficking, was 'criminal'." Peterson also
reported Bush's misrepresentation of Dukakis's stance on gun ownership (August 27,
1988: A10).

W

The very next day, Peterson wrote a front-page analysis on Bush's campaign full of
praise for its effectiveness, while avoiding the issue of questionable tactics the reporter had
raised August 27:

Bush has rarely performed better during a quarter century in politics, according to
those who have watched him over the years. [His] speeches have been crisp and
forceful; his message tough and direct Bush has finally emerged as a formidable
presidential candidate, not to be underestimated by the Democrats. Bush called
himself a 'pit bull' and acted like one. He questioned Dukakis's background in
foreign affairs, his record as 'liberal governor of Massachussetts,‘ his values as a
'liberal and 'member of the ACLU,‘ and even his patriotism, for vetoing a 1977 bill
[on the Pledge of Allegiance].

 

Peterson arrived at this conclusion with the aid of Bush intimates, quoting one of his
most "loyal aides," a supporter who had followed Bush since his failed 1964 bid for the
Senate, his son, George W. Bush, and senior adviser Charles Black, who said that Bush's
handling of the Quayle crisis had added to his stature: "He showed real leadership," said
Black Peterson "substantiated" Bush's leadership by writing that the vice president had
personally written the Quayle defense he used before the VFW convention ("at least he

didn't go to Canada, he didn't burn his draft card, and he damn sure didn't burn the

41
American flag"). "Pointing to his heart, Bush told reporters on Air Force Two, 'that part

came right from here,’ " wrote Peterson. Where a day before Peterson balanced Bush's
statements with contrary or qualifying evidence, on this day, Peterson would let stand
unimpeded Bush's statement on the flag. The fact that it was effective apparently overrode
the insidiousness of Bush's suggestion that Dukakis had burned the American flag, or,
minimally, approved of the act. Peterson also had adjusted his standards of evaluation. A
day after taking Bush to task for using words out of context for rhetorical impact, Peterson
now contended that Bush had faltered "only twice," stumbling when interrupted by
hecklers and his "poor performance" at a Hollywood gala where he'd appeared with
Reagan. Peterson wrote:
Bush has been plagued by three problems. Blind loyalty to Reagan, his lack of
concrete accomplishments during two decades of government service, despite an
impressive resume; and public uneasiness about his character or stature. In short,
Bush has not looked in command. This began to change in New Orleans and
continued last week (Peterson Aug. 28, 1988: A1).

Peterson's story reflected in part how driven by polls the media are: on the day of this
story, polls released showed Bush rising in conjunction with the public's negative views of
how the press handled the Quayle controversy. As Jonathan Alter wrote four years later,
"the real fault of the press is not that it leads too muchutells the public whom to vote for--
but that it follows too much; it wires itself to the polls, then reverberates with an amplified
impression of what it thinks the public already believe" (Schwartz and Grove August 28,
1988: A17; Alter November 2, 1992: 59). But it also reflected the areas in which reporters
felt qualified to evaluate and offer interpretation. Stage presence and performance were
apparently analogous to the notions of character and stature. It also was an example of
how a reporter's story could structurally stand as objective while it substantively reflected
the bias of partisans.

The press continued to portray Dukakis as drifting, losing focus and dropping out of

sight from the public as the campaign moved into the second post-convention week.

Despite the Quayle controversy, which most observers contended should have been a boon

42
for Dukakis without factoring in the backlash factor, Dukakis was "on a downslope." The

only target Dukakis seemed to aim for--tlre Iran-Contra scandal--had a blurry center. "...
[A]s those stories have faded from the headlines, they lack the punch they once" had
(Taylor August 29, 1988: Al). In fact, Taylor was contributing to a political reality for
which the press itself had direct responsibility. Iran-Contra had "faded from the headlines"
by virtue of the press's self-censorship. News organizations did not want to be seen as
politicizing the issue, for fear of being seen as pursuing their own or the Democrats'
agenda. The story had already been done--in the initial 1986-87 onslaught of coverage
unleashed by the original breaking story; and in the early months of 1988, when Bush's
Republican primary opponents raised the issue. After the Republicans--led by Alexander
Haig--raised it as a campaign issue, the press produced its second round of scandal
coverage, this time almost exclusively related to the issue of Bush's complicity: What did
George know?

Bush's association with the Iran-Contra issue was raised to a pitch during the infamous
confrontation between Bush and CBS anchorman Dan Rather in late January. Bush scored
public opinion points with his rehearsed ouburst against Rather's irascible questioning, and
though the issue stayed active through late May, Bush's outburst may have resulted in
ultimately chilling further questioning.

Another explanation for the press's reluctance to cover Iran-Contra in the fall was
Haig's assertion that by raising the issue in the primaries he forced the press to seize upon
it early, preempting a later round of intense coverage once Dukakis broached it in the fall.
"[Bush] may not recognize it, but I know I was trying to do the Republican party a favor
because this is an issue that should be bled in the primary season and not in the fall
campaign," Haig said in early February. "And it's having that effect." Haig maintained that
some news organizations wanted a Democrat for president, so were holding back to keep
the most damaging links between Bush and the Iran-Contra scandal "in their quiver" for
maximum damage later (Campbell February 11, 1988: A14).

43
In late January, the Walling juxtaposed the Iran-Contra issue with Bush's

"boast" of "broad foreign policy experience." To the W‘ question
provided to Bush in advance, "... how, given his background, he did not see the plan for
what it was," Bush responded: "That is for the American people to judge. We took risks
here, and just as the President accepts his responsibility, I'll accept mine" (Decker January
31, 1988: 1). Ironically, the same type of memo that some thought doomed his 1992
candidacy had already surfaced in January, 1988. National Security Director John
Poindexter provided a 1986 memo that indicated Bush "was more knowledgeable of and
played a more active role in the anns-for-hostages deals than he has acknowledged" (Balzar
January 9, 1988: 1). Ultimately, Bush would not have to face voter judgment on Iran-
Contra in 1988, given the press's reluctance to reuead on what it felt was an already
trodden path.

The most obvious disparity between the coverage of the two campaigns in this three-
week span was the candidates' accessibility. Though this may have been the single most
important issue around which all other questions of balance revolved, it was rarely
addressed. Bush's inaccessiblity forced the Bush press corps to rely on two sources of
information that severely restricted its ability to conduct independent reportage: the content
of Bush's speeches and the "spin" of Bush campaign aides. Yet, reporters played this ,
hand as if it were the rule rather than the exception. This fed into the ongoing fascination
with the manner in which the campaigns were run--the mechanics of the campaign; and the
increasing influence of campaign "handlers" on the tone and direction of stories. Given the
Republicans' expertise in media relations, polished during Reagan's administration, the
advantage inherently tilted toward Bush in the area of campaign mechanics. A feature on
Bush's t0p campaign strategist, Roger Ailes, is instructive of the near- gushing admiration
Ailes inspired, and the respect generally accorded to Republican strategists. Flattering

adjectives engulfed the feature:

44

"freedom fighter," "battle tested," "shrewd," "keeper of the candidate's
flickering image," "mature professional," "the Old Fox," "master
communicator," possessor of "blue-collar moxie," "decidedly meat and
potatoes," his style "crisp and hard edged," "wily," and "will crawl out of
bed to sleep on the floor with a sick dog ..." (Grove June 29, 1988: B1).

 

The liabilities of Dukakis's press accessibility came to the fore when the Democratic
campaign rescheduled a press conference it had canceled only 30 minutes earlier on August
29. The Dukakis camp, after reviewing the previous two weeks' television coverage,
concluded that the irrrage of Bush's carefully rehearsed strrmp comments against Dukakis's
irnpromptrr reactions depicted Dukakis as defensive and driven by Bush's agenda. "In
many cases," Dukakis adviser Kirk O'Donell explained to members of the traveling press
corps, "the Bush campaign or his surrogates launched an attack in the morning and by the
time of the Dukakis press availability, that dominated the dialogue (Cawley August 30,
1988: 5). Additionally, Dukakis's speeches were getting short shrift. Television had
created an artificial dialogue that increasingly depicted Dukakis on the losing end, dropping
Dukakis's stump speech material in place of Dukakis's juicier responses to the press's
questions. Yet, reporters put up such a hue and cry to the cancellationuthreatening to make
the cancellation the news of the day—that Dukakis reirrstituted the press conference. The
issue ironically did become the news of the day, and wound up being depicted as yet
another example of a vapid campaign. The LasAngeleinmes' David Lauter justified his
focus on the press availability story by writing that the speech was almost entirely a "rehash
of themes--the need to bring economic development to backward areas, to improve
education and to expand the availability of health care--that Dukakis has been talking about
for months, in some cases, years The speech received generous applause but generated
no obvious enthusiasm ..." (Reid August 30, 1988: A6; Lauter August 30, 1988: 12).

A window of opportunity to create news did open for Dukakis August 30, when
Dukakis tied his Iran-Contra theme to the announcement of a newly published book, Men
m. Dukakis opened a two-day assault on what he called a failure of leadership from
Bush on the Iran-Contra scandal and the administration's ties with Noriega. Dukakis called

45
the sale of arms to Iran for the release of hostages "one of the worst foreign policy disasters

of the last decade. " Curiously, the Post's TR Reid wrote that Dukakis "changed course
sharply," with his line of attack, though Dukakis had made two major previous recent
efforts to spell out the same issue (August 24 and August 26). Ultimately, the story turned
to questioning Dukakis's tactics. "One line of analysis in political circles is that the Iran-
Contra affair is a 'stale' issue that was extensively aired in the primaries by Bush's
Republican opponents. The Democratic campaign feels otherwise" (Reid August 31, 1988:
Al). What political circles were Reid referring to? To whom was Reid attributing this
sentiment? If the Democratic campaign felt "otherwise," the only logical altenrative was
that Republicans comprised the political circles that judged Iran-Contra as "stale." Drawing
the cues from "political circles" that excluded Democratic campaign opinion put at least the
Post's Reid in partisan alignment with Republicans. Three days earlier, the Mil;
Times E.J. Dionne used precisely the same language-"stale"--in referring to the Iran-
Contra issue, suggestive of the possibility that the Mines wielded at least some
influence in determining national joumalists' outlooks.

On the same day that Dukakis railed against Bush's involvement in Iran-Contra--August
30--Bush visited a defense plant to highlight several elements of his candidacy: economic
growth and jobs, training, industrial competitiveness, patriotism, "and even his own war
record." "Bush's frequent visits to defense plants, military facilities and veterans' groups, "
wrote John Balzar, "are designed to appeal to the patriotic streak in conservative voters.
This summer's round of allegations of vast corruption in the defense industry hardly
seemed to affect Bush's defense plant strategy. He has consistently supported the
industry, although certainly not its alleged wrongdoers" (Balzar August 31, 1988: 12).
Timothy McNulty stated that " defense has served [Bush] well as he punched his way out of
the controversy over [Quayle] that threatened to overshadow his own candidacy" (August
31, 1988: 11). Bush's patriotism strategy ran on a completely different track of coverage

than the Pentagon and other foreign policy scandals. The double standard on candidate

46
accessibility had no small part in contributing to these coverage tendencies. If reporters had

access to Bush, they would have had the opportunity to take some of Dukakis's questions
about Bush's foreign policy leadership and apply them to Bush's claims to superiority in
that field.

The media's failure to match the two carnpaigns' foreign policy themes did not result
from lack of opportunity or convenient news angle. While Dukakis leveled a steady
diatribe against the Reagan-Bush foreign policy scandals, Bush waged a parallel theme
based on his foreign policy expertise. These two images could have collided as the major
clash of the campaign, but instead existed on entirely separate planes, as if they were
unrelated to each other.

Though the press was clearly disinclined to report the Iran-Contra issue, Dukakis
provided reporters with the "news" element for their September 1 editions. The authors of
the newly published W appeared at a press conference with Dukakis. Senators
William Cohen, R-New Hampshire, and George Mitchell, D-Maine, who were members of
the Senate Investigative Committee on the scandal, claimed Bush knew all along that the
Reagan administration was trading arms for hostages. Dukakis said: "The American people
would like to know the answer to an important question, Mr. Bush; you sat through five
meetings How can you say that you did not know this was a straight arms-for-hostages
deal?" But, the two-track campaign coverage ensured that Bush would not have to answer
to Dukakis, and allowed Bush to divert the media's attention with an issue of his own: the
environment. On the same day of the MengflZeal press conference, the Bush campaign
informed reporters that Bush planned a trip the next day to Boston to focus on the polluted
harbor.

Skepticism toward Dukakis's persistence on Iran-Contra didn't help matters: "Dukakis
and his top advisers have been struggling for three weeks to regain the initiative for
media attention," wrote Reid. "The Democrats have fallen back on one of their tried and

true issues, but in today's news conference the Democrats' scenario was at least

47
partially upstaged by Bush's decision to come [to Boston] Thursday." By the end of

Dukakis's press conference, he was responding to questions about Bush's impending trip
and defending his environmental record (Reid September 1, 1988: A16). Interestingly, the
LosArrgelesJimes led that day's issue with a story on Dukakis's first "direct statements"
on Quayle, obtained in an interview, making only passing reference to the Iran-
Contra/Mitchell-Cohen press conference (Balzar September 1, 1988: 1), while covering
Bush's opening environmental salvo from Michigan: "I am an environmentalist," Bush
declared. The Tribune did not cover the press conference, having covered Dukakis's
previous day's Iran-Contra "attac "; but it did cover Bush's Michigan appearance, which
promised the next day's Boston Harbor sojourn. All but forgotten by the September 1
editions were Dukakis's aggressive remarks on Iran-Contra. In contrast to articles that had
pointedly remarked on Dukakis's strategic ploys as the basis for his press conference,
Bush's push on the environment was treated as a natural foray into a substantive issue.
The Tribune's McNulty wrote: " [Bush] broke ranks with the Reagan administration on
reducing acid rain pollution and he endorsed a number of other clean air and water
proposals" (McNulty September 1, 1988: l). The Post's Peterson had a nearly identical
lead: "[Bush], attempting to separate himself from [Reagan] on environmental issues, said
today if he is elected, he will work to reduce acid rain, speed the cleanup of toxic wastes,
beef up enforcement of federal pollution regulations and bring a new 'conservation etlric' to
the White House." The spin of one Bush supporter followed, maintaining the tone of the
article: "It's a whole new ballgame. It comes through in the flavor of the speech, and the
commitment" (Peterson September 1, 1988: A1). None of the three papers mentioned the
strategic value of abruptly switching gears from foreign policy to environment at a time
Dukakis was turning up the heat on the Reagan-Bush foreign policy record. His comments
were merely "designed to show greater environmental sensitivity" than might be expected
(Balzar September 1, 1988: 1).

48
Television held the print medium captive at Boston Harbor. Newspaper reporters

would have to respond to the requirements and standards of a telegenic event as a political
reality, no matter how staged they knew it was. "It was a near-perfect made-for-television
invasion, complete with pictures of the beautiful harbor and plenty of conflict" (Peterson,
September 2, 1988: A4). Bush aides made no bones about touting the Boston Harbor stop
as a story for TV. One aide told the W’ John Balzar that "Campaigning
always comes down to pictures. If you can do all your groundwork in laying out your
positions on issues, which we've been doing for the last three months, then pictures can
credibly reinforce things and create a stronger image at a time when people are really
starting to pay attention" (Balzar September 3: 24). Bush was even able to transform this
offensive into a defensive counteroffensive—-using the now-familiar Republican formula of
feigned indignation, as if to imply his campaign was unfairly besieged: "I mean, you get
beat around the head by a man whose record is as abysmal as this, then I'm not going to
stand there and take it. Inasmuch as I hear a lot of sludge coming out aimed at me by a
person that's been a part of the problem here, I have to defend myself and point out the
difference" (McNulty, September 2, 1988: 20). In truth, he had avoided any damage at all
from Dukakis's statements because he never had to answer to them.

A flurry of press releases by a "string of Massachussetts Democrats," condemning Bush
for "hypocrisy" did not deter Bush, nor the media's reaction to the Boston Harbor ploy.
The Ifihune's September 2 lead story, a five-column banner story, "Harbor taints
Dukakis's record on pollution," was precisely the type of print reportage for which the
Bush campaign could have hoped. Though five paragraphs into the story reporter Casey
Bukro noted that a national environmental group ranked Massachusetts tied [for first with
Wisconsin for "overall environmental effort," the thrust of the story was that "the harbor
problem provides Republicans with a strong political issue" (Bukro, September 2,
1988: 1). To reconcile the notion that a governor is politically vulnerable on an

environmental record that is rated as the nation's best requires a leap in political logic that

49
can only fall under the heading of distorted realities. By the end of Bush's blitz on the

environment, which continued the next day in New Jersey, Balzar had this to say about
Bush: "With his 72-hour campaign thrust, Bush has been as sharp a campaigner as many
have ever seen him" (Balzar September 3, 1988: 24). That Bush had twisted the record

and diverted attention from an issue Dukakis was attempting to enlarge, went unrecorded.

W

 

Dukakis's plaint on accessibility had little or no effect on how the media would conduct
themselves for almost another month. Bush's rare press conferences seldom produced the
kind of news that emanated out of Dukakis's press conferences. Bush hosted an informal
press conference/barbecue two days before the traditional Labor Day campaign kickoff on
September 3, in which he fielded "more than a dozen questions." Though issues ranged
from nuclear power, unemployment, jobs, the environment, upcoming debates and
"narcotics," reporters generally stayed away from politicizing the questions (for instance,
one reporter asked about the increase in narcotic smuggling during Bush's tenure as head
of interdiction efforts without making the natural reference to Dukakis's charges about
Bush's relationship with Noriega). Two papers' stories devoted their leads to Bush's

comments on the debates, and the third on his input on environmental policies. '... George
Bush was decidedly upbeat at the beginning of Labor Day weekend with the bravado
that has become a new characteristic of his campaign, Bush praised Dukakis as a 'better
campaigner' " (McNulty September 4, 1988: 5). The WES Balzar wrote
playfully: "Is he being candid or coy? Wonied or just teasing? It was hard to tell Saturday
as George Bush wrapped up a news conference on the lawn of his home by praising the
debating skills of his Democrat Opponent, Michael Dukakis" (Balzar September 4, 1988:
19). The Post's David Hoffman made only passing reference to Bush's debate comments,

after focusing on Bush's responses on the environment: "Bush said he had 'many times

50
expressed my concerns ...' [but] did not offer examples" (Hoffman September 4, 1988:

A10). Bush's continual rise in the polls may have been the oveniding factor that
emboldened the Bush campaign and humbled the press. By Labor Day, a new poll showed
Dukakis's negatives soaring from 22 percent to 33 percent, and Bush's abating (Taylor
September 5, 1988: A1).

In any case, Bush gave no press conferences for the next week, finishing with two for
the entire three-week period. Finally, on September 10, one reporter called attention to
Bush's inaccessibility. The Post's Hoffman wrote, "Bush refused a request from
reporters for [a press conference] to clarify his views Bush also ignored shouted
questions from reporters, part of a strategy to avoid anything that could distract from his
prepared speeches. Bush has also resumed using a technique from the primaries of
granting interviews to local reporters while restricting contact with those who travel with
him" (Hoffman September 10, 1988: A10).

If the media were waiting for a fresh angle and symbols to tie in the concepts Dukakis
had tried to connect between Bush, foreign policy and ethical failure, they all came to the
fore on September 8, when on the same day of a Bush foreign policy speech, a Knight-
Ridder story broke about ties several Bush aides' had to Bahamian government officials
suspected of trafficking in drugs. The Tribune canied the Knight-Ridder story, while the
Eqstaited until September 9 to run its own piece. The LesAngelesjimes did not make a
reference to it until September 10.

Based on a 23-page 1984 memo released by Ohio Congressman Edward Feighan, the
Knight-Kidder story implicated Iee Atwater, Charles Black, Paul J. Manafort and Roger
Stone as the campaign officials associated with the film that promised, for an $800,000 '
fee, a "back-channel relationship" between the Reagan administration and the Bahamas at a
time when US. officials suspected Bahamian leaders of accepting payoffs from drug
traffickers. A Bush campaign spokesman said, "That is such horse manure. Is this the

best the Democratic party can do? Trot out some no-name congressman from Ohio to level

51
charges which have no merit, no basis in fact? This is scuzzball politics." Meanwhile,

Bush, stumping on defense, was spelling out the "litany" of differences with Dukakis and
unfurling one of his favorite lines: "After all, if my opponent doesn't want to modernize his
snowblower, that's his business ..." The range of "issues" they differed on were limited to
the technical: deployment of the MX and Midgetrnan missiles, the construction of two new
aircraft carrier task forces and deployment of the Strategic Defense Initiative (Locin,
September 8, 1988: 23). How the media could separate the concepts of "strong defense"
from the ethical questions emanating out of the Pentagon procurement scandal is baffling
enough. Confronted with the symbolism and newness of a fresh story on a possible
foreign policy ethics scandal, the media still failed to make the connection.

The Best held back until it produced its own investigation, which yielded a neutralizing
story that implied that Democrats were in the same business of courting unsavory foreign
clients. Res]; writer Michael Isikoff warned that the issue could "embarrass" both parties,
pointing out that a Democratic political consultant and associate of a Dukakis media
coordinator, had provided "assistance" to the Republican firm that worked with Noriega.
The Democratic political consultant, David Sawyer, said his association with Republican
Stuart Spencer's film's Noriega account was a "non-issue" because the "goal of both firms
was to persuade Noriega to restore civilian authority after Noriega had fired Panama's
elected president, Nicolas Ardito Barletta." How Sawyer's view of his Noriega
involvement as a "non-issue" absolved the Republican firm of Black, Manafort, Stone and
Kelly from its association with the Bahamian government is puzzling, particularly in view
of the embarassing memo.

The firm proposed that it would mount a "counteroffensive to [Prime Minister Lynden
0.] Pindling's critics" and improve his "sullied image" in the United States--at a time when
US. officials were reporting Pindling's ties to drug traffickers. The Knight-Ridder story
carried in the Tribune provided details of the memo language that the Pest paraphrased or

omitted, and pointed out that the firm "appears to impugn the motives of the Drug

52
Enforcement Administration and US. Treasury officials critical of the Bahamas The

memo skirts the problems of drugs [and] only mentions the 'negatively charged
atrnosphere' in Washington. It mentions the displeasure of Treasury and DEA. but doesn't
give as the reason the view that Bahamas were a haven for drug trafficking and money
laundering. The blame lies with 'Pindling critics using the Miami Herald as well as other
Eastern Establishment media outlets ...' " (Knight-Ridder September 8, 1988: 13).

Describing the revelation as a "seemingly made-to-order Democratic campaign issue,"

the Best's Isikoff gave Bush adviser Charles Black an open forum for his own defense:
We didn't work for Pindling, we worked for the government of the Bahamas. They
came to town and said they wanted to improve their relations with the US. and we
told them, if your goal is to be cooperative, we can help you. We accomplished a lot
in furthering the war on drugs. The reason all this is coming up is this is a political
campaign and the Democrats don't have issues they can work on so they're taking
cheap shots at the people working for Bush
Black also dismissed the firm's memo as a "sales pitch. [F]rankly, it had some
hyperbole in it and wasn't as carefully edited as it might have been had we known it was
going to be a public document." Accepting at face value Black's explanation, the Best
pursued the issue no further. Isikoff also failed to mention that Bush campaign manager
Lee Atwater had ties to the firm at the time it approached the Bahamian officials (Isikoff
September 9, 1988: A6).

The W waited until September 10 to make reference to the Bahamian
story, Bob Drogin slipping into his story the fact that "news reports detailed the allegations
this week." Though Dukakis's speech centered on the Bahamian connection to focus on
Bush's "judgment," the W story emphasized Dukakis's charge that Bush
was emulating "McCarthy tactics" in questioning Dukakis's patriotism over the Pledge of
Allegiance issue. The LesAngeleinmes‘ Drogin expended 20 paragraphs before invoking
Dukakis's Bahamian comments (Drogin September 10, 1988: l).

3
SUMMARY

These samples provide a glimpse of how the national print media conducted themselves
over a crucial period of time in which decisive campaign impressions were formed. The
three newspapers all exhibited the same failures for which the media at large were criticized
after the election. They failed to make clear the disparity in access between the two
campaigns; they neglected to pursue the issue of ethics in an Otherwise heightened climate
surrounding character and leadership; and they brandished excessive emphasis on
campaign strategy, which detracted from substantive issues and artificially fed into the
notion of momentum (lost or gained).

No one paper was less immune than another to the prevailing climate of imbalanced
coverage. But the Pest most consistently deferred to the Republican version of events on
the campaign. The Best relied on Republican sources at a much higher rate than the other
two news organizations, quoting Republicans 59 percent of the time, Democrats. 41 percent
within the three-week sample period. This reliance certainly affected the outcome of the
coverage. The Best participated in reshaping the parameters for evaluating a candidate, and
were in no small way aided by Republican sources to construct this reality. Bill Peterson's
piece that portrayed Bush as a stronger, "more formidable" candidate "on his own" drew
from such standards as performance, manner and presence. Peterson's piece--via the
comments of Bush intimates--defined leadership by the way he handled the Quayle "crisis."
Ensuing coverage would draw from the outlook of this piece, whose premise held that
Bush only needed to "look in command" to be taken seriously. The first consistently
depicted the Dukakis campaign as defensive and reactive, but failed, until late, to point out
how his accessibility and Bush's inaccessibility contributed to that perception. Each time
Dukakis asserted himself in an aggressive manner, he was depicted as "changing course
sharply," which, by implication, meant he was at the mercy of Bush's agenda. And, each

time Dukakis raised the Iran-Contra issue, the Best denigrated the strategy as "stale." By

54
contrast, Bush's thrusts did not get the same strategy scrutiny. For instance, when Bush

changed course from foreign policy to the environment, the Rent ignored the strategic turn
(which came at a time when Dukakis was assailing Bush on foreign affairs) and focused
instead on Bush's departure from Reagan policies. Of the three news organizations, the
Best produced the only staff-driven investigative piece on the Bahamian connection, but its
reliance on the central maligned figure to dispell the charges severely debased the
objectivity of the piece, and ultimately preempted sustained and possibly damaging
coverage. Only on September 10 did the Best's David Hoffman mention Bush's evasion
of the press and the press's growing disenchantment with his inaccessibilty. But by then,
Bush could not be bullied into changing his campaign style-the public, at least indicated by
the polls, was behind him.

The Tribune's post-convention coverage hinged on the "bounce" Bush received, and
could be traced to an August 21 story ("On his own at last, the real George Bush stands
up") that gushingly depicted Bush's decisiveness and resolve. The Tribune's disinterest in
the question of foreign policy ethics often bordered on the oblivious, and reflected the
desires of Republican aides, who were quoted 55 percent of the time in this study's three-
week span. After one Dukakis quote on ferreting out "all corruption at the Pentagon," the
Tribune's Charles Madigan followed with a paragraph on whether the Bush campaign was
"ready to trrrn the corner on the Quayle controversy" (August 21, 1988: 26). The Inhime
failed to push the Bush campaign on issues Dukakis pressed, but willingly pressed
Dukakis from the Bush campaign's perspective. For instance, when Dukakis called the
Reagan-Bush war on drugs "ridiculous," the Tribune used quotes from Reagan press
spokesman Marlin Fitzvvater, but. nothing from Bush's campaign. Bush's insularity could
have become an issue at this point, but the Tribune appeared satisfied with Fitzwater's
responses and Bush's carefully prepared response in his speech the following day. On the
other hand, the Tribune bit hard on the Bush campaign's Boston Harbor bait. On the same
day that the Tribune decided not to cover Dukakis's press conference on the publication of

55
MennfiZeal, it ran a story on the GOP campaign's announcement that Bush would be

campaigning at Boston Harbor to "talk about the dangers of ocean dumping" (McNulty
September 1, 1988: 1). The next day, the In'nnne ran an unfavorable masthead story on
Dukakis's environmental record, and another inside on Bush's comments at the Harbor,
while a Dukakis story on education may have seemed lost in the wake of the bluster. The
Tribune did run the Bahamian story first among the three news organizations, albeit a wire
story on page 13. But this was a one-day run that, except for Dukakis's speech references,
would not gather any steam from Tribune energies. Two days later, after Dukakis
incoporated the Bahamian news into a speech, the Tribune's Philip Lentz wrote,
"Dukakis's comments reflected his aides' judgment that he has been hurt by Bush's
constant attacks on the Pledge of Allegiance and defense issues ..." (Lentz September 10,
1988: 1).

The W' reliance on Republican sources was the least lopsided (54-to-
46) of the three, but still resulted in material imbalance. The W came
closest to spelling out the connections between Bush's foreign policy candidacy and his
association with Reagan administration failures ("Bush uses defense plants to stress
campaign stands"), but only with an ephemeral reference, and certainly not with the topical
fervor that accompanied the Quayle, Pledge of Allegiance and Boston Harbor stories. Its
attention to Dukakis's response on Quayle's selection (September 1) overshadowed a major
Dukakis thrust on Iran-Contra, illustrating its views of what constituted news. The Les
W attempted to provide perspective to its news section with analyses of the
media's coverage of Quayle, Bush's appeals to patriotism, and television's impact on the
campaign. It also gave some glimpses into Bush campaign tactics. But W
reporters were beholden to the spin out Of the Bush campaign, framing many of their
stories around Bush aides' quotes. As early as August 21, Cathleen Decker described
Bush as a "different candidate," during his response to the Quayle conundrum, the

common refrain from Republican aides since the GOP convention. The W

56
Times; performances after Bush's Labor Day weekend press conference and when the

Bahamian story broke (They did not run a story specifically related to the Bahamian
connection) indicated a civilin based on cozy relations, intirrridation, or skewed news
standards.

The effect of the Bush campaign's eagerness to divulge campaign strategy was to give
reporters a sense of insiderism, which may have subtly exacted a debit Of gratitude from the
journalists. The press was now a participant in the insider game. Having access implied
trust, which may have obligated journalists to a less critical view than if they had been left
completely outside. Focus on strategy led to demystification, which ultimately deflated any
sense of incredulity that might have arisen with, say, Boston Harbor. Had there not been
the phalanx of advisers and aides applying "spin" to events in Boston, the media might well
have drawn more critical conclusions than they did.

The irony, of course, is that the GOP campaign deprived the press of the kind of access
to Bush that could have altered the landscape of the campaign. The Bush campaign's
isolation had an incalculable influence on the outcome of the election. The media's failure
to smoke Bush out was their most flagrant indiscretion in this period. Without equal access
to the campaigns, all coverage canied the taint of imbalance. And much future coverage
descended from assumptions formed in this period carried the taint of distortion, as the next

two chapters will show.

CHAPTER IV

W: AUGUST 21-SEPTEMBER 10

This chapter, will focus on how the Wes added to the sum of flawed
perceptions that resulted in the lowest level of voter participation-—50. 16 percent--since
1924 (Wright 89). By focusing on the Times, this thesis does two things: First, it analyzes
the individual traits of a news organization's coverage, avoiding the media-as-monolith
critique. Second, it accepts the notion that the Times is perceived to be one of the nation's
most established and reputed purveyors of the national "record." Major news outlets treat
the Times as the "professional standard setter," writes Herbert J. Gans. "When editors and
producers are uncertain about a selection decision, they will check whether, where and how
the Iimes has covered the story." National journalists must have a strong defense for
interpretations conflicting drastically with the [fines (Gans 180). Though it can be said that
the Times did not wield the agenda-setting prowess it has held in previous campaigns, its
contribution to the general tenor of the campaign can be viewed minimally as a legitimizing
agent, considering its national prestige and reputation as an agenda setter. The period--
three weeks following the Republican convention--is crucial because a dominant image
emerged and crystallized: of Republican tactical superiority, infening Democratic
inferiority. The Iimes' emphasis on tactical explanations of the carnpaign--which
consistently implied the hint of Republican superiority--buried Dukakis's message and

virtually ignored versions that ran counter to increasingly accepted constructs of the

57

58
campaign. The Times framed Dukakis's campaign within this dominant image during this

period, helping to create and then reinforce an overriding perception that eventually
prevailed for the entire campaign, even in the face of evidence that showed Dukakis as on
the offensive. It was a frame Dukakis found impossible to escape, which haunted his
campaign staff, and which fueled their demise.

The Times did little to counter the national trends of this three-week period, instead
adding to the critical mass. The Times, as an integral player in a broader media
community, increasingly adopted the tone of what Adatto called "theater critics'." The
Times allowed strategists to assume a central position in their stories, shaping much

analysis around tactical comportment rather than points of policy.

W

The Times' August 31 story, "Dukakis and Bush trade fire in heavy barrages," typified
the general approach of its coverage during the period between August 23 through
September 10. It announced that "Mr. Dukakis's barrage of criticism reflected a tactical
shift in his campaign Today Mr. Dukakis joined the fray." Two central characteristics
of the Times' coverage shape this passage: one, the portrayal of Dukakis as perpetually
trying to regain initiative, and, two, the Times' unrelenting focus on campaign tactics. The
Times simply could not overcome the sine qua non of the 1988 campaign, a pattern that
portrayed Michael Dukakis as passive and on the defensive against Bush's torrent of
charges, the appearance of which continued to grow with each comment on tactics. It all
added up to a conventional wisdom that fed on itself, and which Dukakis could not escape.

The danger of conventional wisdoms is that they don't adjust easily to events that don't
conform to the pattern. The Times often framed Dukakis's combative remarks as dramatic
departures from a mostly docile campaign, when they could easily have been shown to be

part of an aggressive pattern. Robin Toner's August 31 story relayed Dukakis's use of the

59
publication of a new book, MeneLZeal, written by two senators, that tied together his

theme of leadership and foreign policy failures of the Reagan administration. Dukakis
focused on the Reagan adminisuation's complicity in the Iran-Contra scandal and its ties
with Panamanian strongman Manuel Noriega, then under indictment for international drug
trafficking violations. Dukakis called the sale of arrrrs to Iran for the release of hostages
"one of the worst foreign policy disasters Of the last decade." Toner wrote that "the newly
aggressive Mr. Dukakis was unveiled [in] his campaign's scramble to adjust to the
fiercely competitive race (Toner August 31, 1988: Al). But it wasn't the first time
Dukakis had displayed a fiery stance on the issues of leadership, foreign policy or Iran-
Contra. In addition to Dukakis's attacks in June,5 twice in the previous week Dukakis
brought foreign policy ethics into his campaign rhetoric as a central theme. On August 23,
Dukakis attacked Bush on the Pledge of Allegiance issue, saying Bush's stance indicated a
lack of respect for the Constitution, and suggested that a "series of incidents" occurred in
the Reagan administration "where laws were broken or ignored, and I don't know if this is
part of a pattern." Times correspondent Andrew Rosenthal wrote, "Mr. Dukakis used
the issue for new ammunition in his assault on the ethical standards of the Reagan
administration, a theme he has pressed throughout the campaign" (Rosenthal August 24,
1988: A1). Two days later, August 25, Dukakis again denounced the ethics of the Reagan
administration, in particularly harsh language. He declared the Reagan administration's
drug policies as "criminal" and "absurd," making, in Rosenthal's words, "his strongest
appeal yet on an emotional issue that has been central to the 1988 presidential campaign. "
Referring to Bush's role as the head of the Reagan administration's "war on drugs,"
Dukakis asked, "Why, after seven years of task forces and policy boards and grandiose

claims, have cocaine imports tripled, drug-related deaths doubled and heroin imports risen

 

5 See, for example, Wzglsh, Edward, andTHR Reid. "Vying tobeToughest on Crime, Drugs" Washingmn
EnsLJune 16, 1988:A2

60
By August 31, Dukakis's once formidable lead--17 points in one poll on July 24--had

vanished into a tlrree-point deficit, which in part dictated how news organizations tended to
frame stories about Dukakis (Goldman and Mathews 420). While Dukakis's campaign
was portrayed as stalling, Bush rode the tide of public opinion, which gave his campaign a
sense of momentum--and perhaps the attitude that he could dictate things on his own terms.
Bush reacted to both of Dukakis's late-August missives on ethics in a way that avoided
addressing the substance of Dukakis's charges. The Times' August 25 story noted how
the Bush camp "relished the chance to reply to Mr. Dukakis's suggestion that Bush
'was not fit to hold office.‘ Bush's response understandably dodged the dicier questions
of broken laws and ethical scandals; instead, he stayed fast to the issue that had given him
so much political mileage since before the Republican convention: "What is it about the
Pledge of Allegiance that upsets him so much?" (Roberts August 25, 1988: Al). Two days
later, Bush's response to Dukakis's charges against the administration's drug policies was
more vociferous, but equally specious. Bush stayed on the Pledge of Allegiance attack,
mixed in a reference to Willie Horton, and finally "taunted Dukakis" for his comments on
Reagan's drug policies. "He should not use the words 'criminal' and 'absurd' when it
comes to that kind of action, for he is the governor who vetoed mandatory sentencing for
drug dealers and he fought tooth and nail to keep that outrageous furlough program that
let murderers, rapists and drug dealers out of jail." The Times story allowed Bush's stump
statements to stand without contextual interpretation, except through the viewfinder of
strategists. "Mr. Bush has been pursuing this line of attack as part of a strategy to portray
Mr. Dukakis as out Of the mainstream of voter opinion " (Boyd August 27, 1988: A6).
A broader question above that which asks why Bush didn't respond directly to Dukakis's
charges-- for he has an interest and a political prerogative not to--is why the Times didn't
use these charges as a thematic opportunity to delve into some of the scandals of the
Reagan-Bush administration, particularly given Rosenthal's earlier claim that these charges

were central to the presidential campaign.

61
An answer may lie in E.J. Dionne's August 28 front-page analysis, arguing that the

ethical issues Dukakis was pursuing were "stale." Dionne put some distance between
himself and the idea by writing, "For some Democrats Dukakis's emphasis on stale
issues were symptomatic of the difficulties his campaign is having in figuring out how to
fight Bush." Issues like the troubles of ex-Attorney General Edwin Meese and Noriega
had been "helpful" to Dukakis "earlier this year." But they were now " gone from the front
pages" and the "shiftin g nature of news" severely lirrrited their effectiveness, Dionne
suggested, when Dukakis attempted to "resuscitate them" in the previous week. Ironically,
Dionne cited the Iran-Contra affair as a factor in the continuing low rate of Republican
Party identification, which stood at 38 percent in a Times/CBS survey taken from July 31
to August 3--a strong indicator of the issue's relevance (August 28, 1988 [sec. IV]: 1).
When Toner wrote three days later that Dukakis was making a "tactical shift in his
campaign," (see above) in raising the Iran-Contra issue, she suggested Dukakis was finally
breaking from the dry message of economic opportunity "that has changed little in recent
months and was getting little attention." So, on the one hand, the Times reproved Dukakis
for spending too much time on "stale" foreign policy ethics questions, and on the other, the
Times creditted Dukakis for finally getting off the unsexy subject of economics and onto a
juicier item, Iran-Contra. The editorial policy of the Times may have revealed itself on
September 1 when the Times' only reference to a second Dukakis press conference on Iran-
Contra was a photo caption that read that Dukakis "discussed the Iran-Contra hearings" at a
Boston news conference.

The Times' repeated reassertion of the same idea--that Dukakis was only now breaking
through a stagnant phase in his campaigrr--may have been a reflection of subtle forces that
drove the campaign other than stump rhetoric. A conventional wisdom may have been
gathering momentum--based on polls and insiders' views. The national media had an
"inevitable inclination to see campaign developments through the prism of poll findings"

(Germond and Witcover 57) and were equally reliant on political strategists, who, by 1988,

62
"had moved in en masse as filters between candidate and reporter. The 'spin patrol'--the

dispatching of campaign operatives to put the most self-serving interpretation on a
candidate's words and actions--had become a standard phenomenon on the campaign trail

..." (Germond and Witcover 51).

W

The Times' reputation for providing analysis and interpretation to its news presentation
did not abate during the 1988 campaign. But the form of the Times' analysis fit the
Standard that was being repeated nationally: an infatuation with campaign tactics,
strategists' "spin." The Times projected the campaign from the insiders' perspective and
judged campaign performance by strategists' standards: was Bush's message effective,
never mind accurate? In some cases, the Times rebuked the strategists. The Times
flawlessly handled one of the most noted of the staged events from the Bush campaign,
Bush's foray into Boston Harbor on September 1. The Times depicted Bush as
unabashadly unleashing a "steady stream of one-liners," and provided space to the Dukakis
campaign to offer its take on Bush's trip. "Facts are stubborn things, as the President
says," quipped Dukakis aide Mark Gearan. "George Bush has consistently attempted to
undermine what has always been an historic commitment to environmental perservation.
This administration twice vetoed the Clean Water Act (Toner September 2, 1988: A16).
But by and large, the Times implicitly adopted a mode of analysis safe in its detachment
from issues that may have proven divisive.

The desire to stay ahead of public opinion--knowing the conventional wisdom--may
have been one factor that led to the Times' (and other national news organizations) reliance
on campaign aides, strategists, political consultants and pollsters. Generally, the use of
campaign aides as sources has been an accepted practice because it gave reporters a feel for

how the campaign was going; reporters could trust political strategists to be reasonably

63
frank and accurate because it was in the latters' long-term, professional interests to remain

on good terms with the press. "The result was often more accurate reporting of what was
going on in politics than had been the case when reporters were more dependent on state
and county party chairmen ..." (Germond and Witcover 51). There is safety and
objectivity in quoting sources rather than a reporter including his or her own judgments and
interpretations. Often, the Times used the safest method of analysis, quoting unidentified
Democratic campaign aides to assess Dukakis's problems. This proved to add to the
snowballing of Dukakis's campaign woes. An August 28 story attributed to "some senior
aides" the view that "Mr. Bush's aggressive style of campaigning of late has succeeded in
putting Mr. Dukakis on the defensive." The complaint seemed to disregard some fairly
aggressive remarks by Dukakis that had Bush responding through that week, which
suggests that other internal forces--power struggles and personality conflicts--may have
been at play (see below). These declarations prompted stories that reflected Dukakis's
distress. Ofr August 29, Dukakis took criticism from his own camp for spending too much
time in his home state, devoting too much time to his gubernatorial duties. Despite wonies
among Democrats that Dukakis was increasingly on the defensive against an aggressive
Bush, wrote Toner, "Mr. Dukakis continues on his own course," having spent four
"regional days" in Massachussetts in August, and planning to spend the next two doing the
same. "Regardless of where Mr. Dukakis spends his campaign time these days, though,
he increasingly finds himself engaged in a debate framed by the Republicans ..." Toner did
grant that "Mr. Dukakis did forcefully answer Mr. Bush's criticism last week He also
made a biting new attack on the Reagan administration's drug policy." But the overall tone
of the story was that Dukakis needed to sharpen his focus and become "more vigorous in
response to the flurry of Republican charges coming his way, " a sentiment offered by "his
aides" (Toner August 29, 1988: A15). The story set a trend in motion. Not only did the
meeting validate the prevailing view that Dukakis was floundering, but it gave the Times a

frame--a conventional wisdom--around which to work its evaluation of the campaign.

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Perceptions of Dukakis's foundering campaign magnified with each repetition of the

notion. On the next day, the Dukakis campaign initially cancelled-and an hour later
rescheduled--the daily press conference to try to gain control over its message.
Responding to "charges that the campaign had lost direction and momentum over the last
three weeks," wrote Toner, Dukakis acknowledged "he was having difficulty getting his
message across. ..." Kirk O'Donnell, a Dukakis aide, cited TV network coverage as
instrumental in giving Republicans an advantage. Dukakis contended his campaign was
not stalled, but that it was the "decibel level" accompanying the selection of Quayle that
made it a "little difficult to get through." Toner underscored Dukakis's insistence to debate
the issues: "The American people aren't interested in a debate over which one of us loves
his country the most," said Dukakis. "We all love our country; there should be no debate
over that." But her story could not escape the prevailing contextual frame now driving the
process: Dukakis's staff was "trying to cope with a flurry of news reports quoting nervous
Democrats who complained that his campaign had let Mr. Bush seize the initiative" (Toner
August 30, 1988: A1). By responding to the news reports, Dukakis's staff may have
unwittingly given even more life and validity to the stories.

A day later, Dionne's analysis of the status of Bush's campaign credited the success of
its tactics, without addressing Bush's avoidance or distortion of issues. Bush's "searing
attacks on the social issues [like the prison furlough and pledge of allegiance issues]
serve the purpose of reminding wavering Democrats why they call themselves
conservatives and started voting Republican in the first place. " Bush strategist, Charles
Black, wrote Dionne, "was pleased with Mr. Bush's fervor," and that he had made North
Carolina Senator Jesse Helms the "second most incendiary guy on the podium" (August
31, 1988: A16).

Many stories did not need a strategist to apply "spin." The Times incorporated the
language and values of strategists into its writing; judgment was conferred on the basis of

whether Dukakis could match Bush's aggressiveness, whether he could regain the

65
initiative. Dukakis's "stalled" campaign became a central theme around which the

campaign revolved, rendering his message secondary to where he stood in the momentum
game. What follows is a sample of stories from five consecutive days that reflects the
context in which the Times portrayed the status of the campaign:

’September 1: the vigor of the Republican offensive has left the Dukakis campaign
scrambling to recapture the public's attention for its own portrayal of Dukakis" (Toner
September 1, 1988: B8).

’September 2: Dukakis was seeking to "put behind him the days of responding to Mr.
Bush's charges against him by opening a new front on an issue that is rated as one of the
best for the Democrats in the fall election: education" (Dionne September 2, 1988: A16).

"Mr. Bush, who has confounded the Dukakis campaign with one attack after another in
recent weeks, told reporters he was simply defending himself and correcting the record" on
the environment (Toner September 2, 1988: A16).

'September 3: "Mr. Bush's campaign has skillfully sought to conjure images of its
opponent with innuendo or oblique jabsf' (Oreskes September 3, 1988: A7).

"The Sasso announcement caps a three-week period in which the Dukakis campaign lost
a substantial lead in the polls and scrambled to respond to a relentless attack by the
Republicans. But Mr. Dukakis and his aides said Mr. Sasso's return was not an
acknowledgement that the campaign was faltering, a notion quickly advanced by Senator
Dan Quayle ..." (Toner September 3, 1988: A1).

'.September 4: Dukakis was sounding a theme of economic equality "after a week of
moving on several fronts to strengthen his campaign, signalling that Mr. Dukakis, who is
usually wary of sharp exchanges in approach, had come to agree with critics in his own
party who saw his campaign as stalled and insufficiently aggressive in its responses to
Bush" (Dionne September 4, 1988: A1).

"The (Bush) news conference, which was often lighthearted, indicated the relaxed

nature of the Bush campaign, which has been buoyed by the candidate's recent rise in

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public opinion surveys after he aggressively attacked Mr. Dukakis" (Boyd September 4,

1988: A30).

'September 5: (In an ironic twist often repeated through the campaign, Dionne tumed
his analysis on the very method of reporting he and other Times correspondents had been
using.) "Mr. Dukakis's every move was carefully scrutinized for signs of whether he was
reviving his campaign, which had been repeatedly described on television and in the
newspapers as 'stalled.‘ So when he got to Oakland, California, and began larnbasting Mr.
Bush for his alleged truancy on the educational issue, that was seen as a sign that Mr.
Dukakis was striking back" (Dionne September 5, 1988: A1).

After Dukakis rehired his former campaign manager, John Sasso, on September 2, the
Times' followup story illustrated the prime location advisers occupied in the overall
campaign scheme. Sasso brings a "set of strengths that could prove critical in the last nine
weeks," wrote Toner. "... in the view of some aides [Sasso] will bring a keen strategic
sense to the final stretch of the campaign. Some aides expect Mr. Sasso's influence to
be quickly felt both in the candidate's performance on the stump and in his paid
advertising. 'The campaign realizes there's a need to sharpen the message,‘ said Kirk
O'Donnell, a senior campaign adviser. 'And John has a terrific sense of message and
theme.‘ Several aides said that Mr. Sasso has the candidate's confidence on political
matters in a way that no other adviser has" (Toner September 5, 1988: A8).

The final anointing of the conventional wisdom on the status of Dukakis's campaign
came on September 9, when Dionne, in another analysis, referred to the meeting of the
Dukakis "high command" and a group of outside advisers, who discussed "why the
campaign was in trouble and what could be done to lift it from the defensive." Dionne
provided a glimpse of the potential influence strategists commanded over a candidate's
reputation when he wrote, "So angry were some aides at Mr. Dukakis's unwillingness to

consider changes that they actually welcomed the appearance of a spate of negative news

67
reports because they hoped that would finally get his attention" (Dionne September 9,

1988: Al).

The Democrats' meeting and Sasso's return to the campaign appear to have served to
legitimize the analytical thrust the Times had already begun to take in the last week of
August. Aides' willing acknowledgement of dissension within the campaign--which had
been building since early summer-provided the Times and other national media outlets a
thematic and analytic leg to stand on, or a frame to present their stories. The Times were
not creating impressions in a political vacuum, however. They were responding to
campaign dynamics that began to take shape in the early summer months. Tactics, rather

than merit on issues, were the window through which each campaign could be judged.

W

Why there was so much interest in the internal dynamics of the Dukakis campaign can
be attributed to the effectiveness of the Bush campaign, claimed popular critics such as Jack
Gennond and Jules Witcover. Bush's campaign had become an issue in the early summer,
when polling figures appeared to confirm the effectiveness of unseemly tactics. Bush went
on the attack for three weeks in June, pressing, among others, the Willie Horton theme. ,At
the Illinois Republican convention in Springfield, Bush said: "What did the Democratic
governor of Massachussetts think he was doing when he let convicted first-degree
murderers out on weekend passes, even after one of them criminally, brutally raped a
woman and stabbed her fiance? Why didn't he admit his mistake? I think Governor
Dukakis owes the American people an explanation of why he supports this outrageous
program." After assaults like this went on for three weeks, the margin Dukakis held over
Bush, which had stood as high as 17 points in one poll, began to shrink to as low as four
points in one poll. "The message seemed to be getting through," said Bush strategist Lee

Atwater (Germond and Witcover 162-163). Democrats, however, were divided over " how

68
serious a problem the Bush offensive was, and how to respond to it. " The tension was

between responding to the attack and the "first imperative of the campaign," which was, as
aide Jack Corrigan said, "to shift the campaign to our agenda every time you respond [to
the opposition] you lose that opportunity" (Germond and Witcover 357-35 8).

Dukakis's "mild" responses to Bush's pre-Democratic convention assaults on the pledge
of allegiance and Willie Horton issues--as well as to rumors that Kitty Dukakis had once
burned the American flag and Dukakis had twice sought psychiatric treatment for
depression-infuriated some veteran Democratic political strategists. Alice Travis, one
"field" veteran, told campaign manager Susan Estrich that Dukakis's lawyerly responses to
Bush's Pledge of Allegiance attacks were a "bit abstract." Estrich responded, "I know.
That's Michae But, Estrich had hinted earlier to a Democratic consultant that "the
Supreme Court answer" would extinguish the issue. "Even when [Dukakis] wanted to
fight back, his peOple were slow providing him ammunition. All summer long, Estrich had
shrugged off her men's worries about the Willie Horton story. It would spatter back on the
Republicans, she claimed." When Dukakis reclaimed the huge leads in the polls following
the Democratic convention, the strategy to "stay on the high roa " and avoid getting into the
"trenches" (Goldman and Mathews 342) with Bush appeared to be justified.

As Bush's attacks continued, however, and the polling numbers began to contract again
between the Democratic and Republican conventions, Dukakis receded "deeper and deeper
into himself, away from [his advisers]." His private mood grew increasingly "sullen,
snappish and closed to advice." Dukakis felt "ill-served by his people. He complained
regularly that he was all alone out there, with no help from surrogates ..." As Dukakis
turned inward, he set his focus on his home state in August, said one aide, and "tuned out"
the counsel of his advisers to pay more attention to the rest of the country. Estrich, unable
to get through to Dukakis, became desparate--"it showed in her demeanor and in her
agenda; her session [with three Washington professionals, Bob Beckel, Bill Carrick and

Tom Donilon] spent more time on Dukakis than on Bush Dukakis wasn't listening, she

69
told them" (Goldman and Mathews 338-342). Later, Estrich stated that she thought the

"critical time was the last two weeks of August, but it may be that there was nothing we
could have done" (Germond and Witcover 362). By then, campaign strategy was a full-
blown campaign issue, to take on equal, if not more, importance to substantive issues. As
strategy grew in importance, Democrats exposed themselves as far inferior to the
Republicans, a natural turn of events given the Republicans' eight-year reign in the White
House. Gennond and Witcover wrote that "the networks found themselves deftly
manipulated by the campaigns--and far more by the veteran Bush strategists, working with
a pliable candidate, than by the Dukakis team, hampered by a balky one. " The networks
day after day were "dictated [to] by an agenda carefuly prepared by the professional
managing of the Bush campaign. The Democratic candidate and his strategists were
hopelessly unprepared and ineffectual in dealing with the real world of a general election

campaign" (400).

SUMMARY

Germond and Witcover contended that by 1984, august eminences in the media like the
Wes were "only a primary source of a campaign for an elite of the most
politically aware elements of the electorate--activists, political junkies, serious voters. No
longer did print enjoy the influence ..." (54). Most voters--" too busy, too lazy, or too
uninterested" in the campaign--were not looking for specifics on complex national policies,
but an "overall impression" (430). Network television and the Bush campaign were only
too willing to oblige. The Bush campaign's strategy to use network television to get out its
messages on topics like Willie Horton, the Pledge of Allegiance and the Boston Harbor
included fancy visuals and simple messages, and placed heavy emphasis on conflict. All
facets of their strategy were perfectly suited for television, whose inherent bias was

toward, "showing people in action," and against "complexity and nuance" (401). "We felt

70
we were doing reasonably well in the evening news," said Bush strategist Roger Ailes,

"but we thought it was because we were giving the networks what they wanted" (408).
Bush campaign manager James Baker, who invariably invoked a 347-page book that
contained "over 200 policy proposals" as evidence of political sincerity, pointed out that the
Bush‘carnpaign hadn't invented the sound bite. "It is simply a fact of 1ife--not of our
making--that the American people get most of their news from TV's evening news
programs" (465).

The W‘ coverage of the 1988 presidential campaign undeniably reflected
an environment dominated by television and political consultants. The Times' focus on
tactics appeared to be a natural reaction to the changing political landscape. The Bush
campaign's tactical successes--reflected in his "surge" in public Opinion polls--could not be
avoided as an issue. But the Times' adherence to this issue as the primary focus helped
elevate the status of strategists, which further reinforced the importance of tactics. The
Tunes initially treated tactics as an issue, but eventually used the language of tactics to
define and judge candidates. By viewing the campaign through the lens of tacticians, the
Times pushed the text of both candidates into the background, which had the effect of
ignoring the unseemliness of Bush's message and the subtleties of Dukakis's. Because
Bush's aggressive style yielded positive results, aggressiveness became the defining
method. If Dukakis wasn't getting through to voters, it was because he wasn't aggressive
enough. What this reasoning overlooks, however, is the debasing effect that Bush's
negative campaigning had, later reflected in the low voter turnout. The comparison of
campaign staffs on the basis of mechanical expertise or staff morale hardly represented a
comparison between candidates. Because Bush was more aggreeable to his staffers' ideas
than Dukakis did not necessarily mean that Bush was more in command. Nor did it mean
that Bush's message had any more clarity or vigor, or had any more presidential timbre.

The Times, like most of the other national newspapers, did a better job "separating the

issues from visuals for their readers." Though the Times did provide a far greater volume

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of analysis and sober discussion of issues, the overall breadth of their work in this tlrree-

week period devoted a disproportionate volume of work to strategic elements. The Times
were, as Germond and Witcover wrote, "too often timid in telling those readers, with the
bark off, what was happening in the campaign of 1988" (413). By continually
emphasizing tactics or tactical explanations, the Times partially fit the prescriptions of
agenda setting, as described by Shoemaker and Reese: "... the more the media emphasize
an issue, the more important people will think the issue is" (210). Given the Times'
prestige and reputation, the news organization lent a perception of importance to the notion
of tactics. Also given the Times' reputation, the findings of this chapter suggest that the
T'nnes' emphasis on tactical explanations shows they both reflected and legitimized overall
media patterns, which continued, as will be shown in the next two chapters, for the

remainder of the campaign among all four newspapers under analysis in this study.

CHAPTER V

DISPOSITION OF PRESS SOLIDIFIES

The following chapter focuses on the performance of the four newspapers during the
period approaching the first debate, roughly from September 11 to September 25. It was in
this period that the national press's obsession with the horse race, a pursuit of strategic
analysis and an attempt to convey a sense of the electorate's desires intersected. The
essence of the press's campaign coverage emerged in this period, which is to say, certain
suppositions now drove the reporting process: Dukakis lacked focus and Bush was fully
engaged. The press partly characterized the two candidates' differing fortunes as stemming
from Dukakis's (losing) orientation for detail and Bush's (winning) ability to manipulate
symbolic appeals.

It is important to note the link between the coverage of this period with the coverage of
the previous three-week period covered in the preceding two chapters. Set in place was the
press's reliance on the political consultant (and their unconscious adoption of the
strategist's language) and the perception that Bush's tactics were working and Dukakis's
failing, given their respective positions in the polls. Also set in place was the approach
taken by the press toward the candidates: the press would not step out of their self-imposed
boundaries of objectivity into such practices as interpretive or enterprise reporting. The
press's focus on theater criticism--through a reliance on strategists--was not without

exceptions, however. As the campaign moved into the post-Labor Day stretch, the press

72

73
used Bush's attacks as an opportunity to check out his charges. The first section of this

chapter examines a rare display of contextual coverage that was, if not entirely interpretive

or enterprising, done in the spirit of clarity. The sections that follow trace the development
of axioms embedded in press accounts, the press's use of polls to rationalize these guiding
assumptions, and the expectations that emerged from them and framed the upcoming two

presidential debates.

W

Though voters showed an unfamiliarity with both candidates, the records of Bush and
Dukakis received sporadic coverage in the press. Stories on candidates' records generally
are intended to shed light on how the candidates propose to solve, or, as in an incumbent's
case, what his record showed how he went about solving, some of the nation's problems.
In, 1988, the candidate of the incumbent party had less to show on his record than the
challenger. Dukakis's career contained more policy experience than Bush's, whose career
rested on a series of appointive positions where accountability was difficult to determine.
With Dukakis, reporters were able to project his national priorities by reviewing his record
as governor of Massachusetts. Dukakis's record was important to analyze, given the
charges that Bush leveled at Dukakis, who, Bush suggested, had a permissive attitude
toward criminals (Willie Horton), a negligent approach to the environment (Boston
Harbor), a lack of patriotism (the Pledge of Allegiance); and was dangerously
inexperienced in foreign affairs. Dukakis, Bush emphasized, was a rigid, smug
bureaucrat, descriptions which coincided with the image of Democrats' approach to
governance. The Pledge of Allegiance and Willie Horton issues fit into the image,
centering around the notion of a policy "wonk" guided by the letter of the law rather than

the spirit of human compassion.

74
An example of the press's effort to clear the record was the lasAngelesTimes' David

Lauter's analysis of,Dukakis's management style: "Some of the concerns about [Dukakis's]
management style that Dukakis critics have raised seem less serious when his record is
studied in detail. " The comparisons with Jimmy Carter for arrogance and reluctance to deal
with the "horsetrading side of politics" were inaccurate, wrote Lauter. And where Carter
presided over such details as White House tennis court reservations, Dukakis "receives
high marks from current and former state officials for giving them extensive authority" to
make independent decisions. Dukakis advocated "activist" government, though it would be
"noticeably different from the Washington activism that was the hallmar " of such past
Democratic administrations as Lyndon B. Johnson's or Carter's (Lauter September 11,
1988: A1). While occasional analyses such as Lauter's attempted to correct the perspective
that Dukakis was cool, unfeeling and dispassionate--that his policies as governor indicated
a lack of passion for human affairs-Dukakis could not shake the irrrage as "iceman," so
effectively reiterated by Bush.

Another example of the press's attempt to straighten the record occurred in early
September, when Dukakis's weeklong attempt to outline his foreign policy positions was
met by Bush's attacks. The press's analyses showed a less radical picture than Bush was

creating. The Chieagelzihnne's Ray Moseley wrote:
A key element of Dukakis's thinking on national security, which is reflected in his

views on weapons spending, is that the nation cannot be strong abroad if it is not
strong at home. He accuses Reagan of having turned the United States into the
world's number one debtor nation and stresses that Americans must be strong
economically as well as militarily (Moseley September 12, 1988: l).
The Wes cited Dukakis's criticism of the Pentagon procurement scandal
"presided over by the Reagan administration," and quoted Senate armed services committee
chairman Sam Nunn as saying, "I believe Mr. Dukakis understands the needs of our
military forces. [H]e has a thorough knowledge of them and understandshow to go
about making our nation strong." The presence of Nunn and other Democrats with ties to

the military, wrote Andrew Rosenthal, had "both a substantive and symbolic significance

75
..." (Rosenthal September 12, 1988: A18). Despite the print media's attempts to portray

Dukakis's military stances fairly that week, the predominating image was the infamous tank
ride Dukakis took at a Michigan defense plant, suggesting the potency of images that
television possessed over the relative irnpotency of the print media's attempts at substantive
topical exploration.

Bush career was " somewhat of a puzzle," wrote Jack Nelson of the mmgeleslimes.
"Bush's life is marked by almost no deep-rooted commitments to specific issues or
government policies." A constant test for the press would be to keep this in mind over the
course of the campaign, a test that got lost in the media's quest to reveal political character
through the perspective of strategy. Nelson continued: "His lack of clear identification with
fundamental beliefs and policies and his limited administrative experience, are obstacles that
Bush would have to overcome in the Oval Office." It was ironic, given Nelson's
interpretation, that during debate coverage Bush would be lauded for his passion and
"warmth," which translated to commitment Instead of a record, Bush had political
character that could be traced and examined through his improvements in his delivery,
which is precisely the campaign "issue" Bush's strategists preferred to hold at center stage.

Nelson cited Bush's "resilience, resourcefulness" and "determination" that served him in
"emerging relatively unscathed from Iran-Contra and other Reagan administration
scandals." The resourcefulness for which Nelson gave Bush credit is a possible reference
to the political savvy that is the hallmark of the Republican public relations apparatus
installed during the Reagan administration, and which included the strategy of media
inaccessibility that worked against the press's ability to probe'Bush for details. What went
unexplained by Nelson was the media's complicity--national journalists erecting the
conventional wisdom that Iran-Contra was a "Stale" issue--in allowing Bush to emerge
"unscathed." Nelson did point up the irony of Bush's thoughts on his proudest

accomplishment as vice president, his role as the head of the Reagan administration's anti-

terrorist task force. Bush recalled one report issued by the task force as reflective of his

76
leadership, which cautioned against dealing with terrorists for the release of hostages. The

irony of the report and Bush's pride in it, wrote Nelson, was that it was being released just
as the Iran-Contra "scandal was unfolding." The exchange of arms for hostages was a
secret policy that Bush "supported, although he has insisted he knew little about the details"
(Nelson September 11, 1988: 1). But this was a theme that remained largely untouched,
even when opportunities presented themselves during the first debate.

One position to which accountability could be ascribed to Bush was his one-year stint as
director of the Central Intelligence Agency. On the one politically salient issue regarding
his CIA tenure--his dealings with Noriega--only the Wm produced a lengthy
examination of their relationship. Following the first debate, in which Dukakis repeatedly
invoked Bush's relationship with Noriega, Wes reporters Stephen Engelberg
and Jeff Gerth reported that Bush had an opportunity but refused to expose Noriega for
"penetrating" a US. intelligence operation in Panama under his watch in 1976. Noriega
bribed two US. Army soldiers into providing "highly sensitive transcripts and tapes
widely believed" to have fallen into the hands of Cuba and the Soviet Union. Against the
advice of the Justice Department and the head of the National Security Agency, the Army
granted the soldiers immunity from prosecution, a decision Bush backed because Noriega
was considered an "asset" to the CIA. Subsequent CIA directors and Justice Department
officials regarded Bush's decision to be improper. The CIA was then required by law to
report to the Attorney General any evidence of illegalities, including espionage. As for the
issue that hounded Bush during the campaign--Bush's alleged knowledge of Noriega's
alleged drug trafficking, for which the latter was indicted in early l988--Engelberg and
Gerth said there was "no evidence" that showed Bush knew at the time of a 1983 meeting
with Noriega of the Panamanian dictator's drug trafficking activities as a British
documentary, aired September 21, contended. However, the article noted critics‘
contention that Bush's high level posts (including the Vice Presidency) gave him access to

an "unvamished picture of Noriega [He] had material that should have prompted him to

 

77
play a more active role in limiting" U.S. dealings with Noriega (Engelberg and Gerth

September 28, 1988: A1). The Tribune reported on the BBC documentary's charge, but
did not follow up with its own investigation ("Reportz Bush Chided Noriega on Drugs in
'83" September 22, 1988: 5). The LesAngelesTimes, two days later, published a story
showing Bush's "secret battle" with the Justice Department to block federal criminal
investigations of senior CIA officers. W reporter Jim Mann, who
"accidentally" discovered newly released files on Bush while researching another topic,
wrote that "Bush's defense of clandestine operatives facing criminal charges has a modem
echo," citing his support of former N SA adviser John Poindexter and former Lt. Col.
Oliver North, who were both facing federal criminal charges at the time (Mann September
30, 1988: 1).

But stories delving into Bush's record were few and far between, and produced at
scattered, one-shot, rather than sustained, volume--partly because of the reason stated
above: there was not much that could be extracted from Bush's record. The press seemed
to find Bush's association with the policies of President Reagan to be less tangible. The
press instead attempted to extract Bush's positions from the content of his stump speeches,
a difficult task, given the dearth of substance and preponderance of symbolic material
aimed at fulfilling the visual and dramatic requirements of the 30-second sound-bite
network television news report. Little in the way of sober discussion of details of policy
entered into Bush's campaign. Given his apparent rising fortunes in the polls, the press
saw the success of this tactic; subsequently, though the press did push Bush from time to
time for details (a task made all the more complicated by Bush's inaccessibility), the effort
was less than ardent. The press appeared more intent on following what it felt were the
dictates of the public, which by the bottom line--Bush's lead-—could be read as a comfort
with and preference for Bush's more visceral approach. Dukakis, on the other hand, was
criticized for his lack of focus, for the detail orientation of his campaign, and for the "stale"

issues with which he attempted to attack Bush. The press's efforts to straighten the record,

78
then, did not apply equally to Dukakis's charges against Bush. Ironically, the candidate

who ran the more accurate campaign was effectively penalized by the very accuracy of his

attacks, which were not deemed unfair or false, but "stale."

W
W

By the time the first debate came into the view of political watchers--roughly mid-
Septemberuthe press was fully engaged in analysis of the expectations game. The press's
most common line of questioning revolved around its fixation on who was up or down in
the polls; what should either candidate do to elevate their standings in the polls? What were
the keys to Bush keeping his lead and Dukakis overcoming Bush's lead?

The Best, on September 11, gave glimpse to three issues that the press would set its
sights on for the next month: the origin of Dukakis's decline (which Democratic pollster
Peter Hart attributed to Bush's "unanswered ideology attacks"); the significance of the
upcoming debates; and the character of Bush's lead, described as "soft and moveable"

' (Schwartz September 11, 1988: A23). The first issue, Dukakis's decline, was based on
assumptions that grew out of the three-week period following the Republican National
Convention, in which Bush overtook Dukakis's large lead in the polls to pull within a tie
by the traditional Labor Day campaign kickoff. The second issue, the importance of the
debates, encompassed a tremendous volume of analysis that focused on performance
standards, based on the prescriptions of political consultants, media experts, polltakers,
and campaign aides. And the third issue, the character of Bush's lead, addressed the
complexities involved in polling, which included the transience of voters, but ultimately

settled on the view that Bush's lead, though soft, was commanding in its consistency.

A Wes Op-Ed commentary written by longtime Republican strategist Kevin
Phillips reflected, if it didn't indirectly influence, the outlook of journalists, campaign aides
and political consultants. Phillips claimed that the Democrats were "inept" at handling
negative campaign strategy, while the Republicans were "better trained in modern political
combat. " Democrats had several large openings for attacks, but were not taking them: the
nation's uneven economic recovery, wage stagnation and rising income inequality,
corruption and conflicts of interest in the Reagan administration; Bush's dealings with
"Latin American drug kingpins," secret arms deals with "ayatollahs." Dukakis was weak
in "his ability to perceive and slash at the Achilles' heels" of his opponent, perhaps because
he was the "bloodless Harvard public-policy managerialist his detractors" claimed
(September 12, 1988: A21).

As if on cue, Dukakis, the next day, emerged on the stump with the precise ingredients
laid out by Phillips. Dukakis took Bush to task for "a series of foreign policy blunders,"
including Iran-Contra; as well as linking Bush with the Reagan administration's propensity
for "lining the pockets of dishonest defense contractors and consultants." Dukakis had
"escalated his counteroffensive against Bush, who had been attacking Dukakis for weeks
before the Democrat began baffling back in earnest last Friday [September 9] " (Rosenthal
September 13, 1988: D24). Dukakis's theme-—questioning Bush's leadership and
judgment "and steadiness required in the Oval Office"--had in fact been a part of his arsenal
well before Rosenthal credited Dukakis, as shown in the previous two chapters. But
Rosenthal's specifying Dukakis's earliest tough counterattacks would prove to be one of
the rare atttempts to place Dukakis's tactics in the context of time, an important
consideration given the more common--and easier--practice of generalizing. Generalizing
trends or patterns during a campaign allowed reporters to avoid the painstaking, tedious

and unaesthetic process of repeating facts. But it also made them vulnerable to misleading

80
assumptions guided by cumulative--often false--impressions that reflected the temper of the

moment rather than the factuality of the now-forgotten past incident (In this case, the
series of speeches criticizing Bush's foreign policy and ethics record that Dukakis made
both in June and just after the GOP convention.)

The impression of Dukakis standing by idly while Bush took unanswered verbal swipes
at his rival took on the weight of a conventional wisdom reinforced by continual focus on
the subject even after its discussion may have been regarded as having served out its
newsworthiness (if the same standards that such an issue as Iran-Contra applied) and by an
unending supply of Democratic strategists (mostly unnamed) willing to speak candidly and
affirrnatively on the notion. Factors involved in elevating this issue were: 1) the importance
given to political consultants, aides and strategists; 2) the press's unwillingness to act as
their own interpreters, and 3) the press's avoidance of policy issues as points of
interpretation.

A peripheral but important issue to the criticism of Dukakis's handling of Bush's attacks
is the idea of balance between a candidate's response to his foe's attacks and his attempts at
creating his own agenda. Dukakis, indeed, was criticized early for responding too much to
Bush's attacks-~which is why Dukakis finally cancelled his August 29 press conference.
To respond to every attack would give the image of a campaign back on its heels, against
the ropes; it also lends credence to the attacks and keeps them alive and in public view, a
view held by Dukakis aide Jack Corrigan, elucidated in the previous chapter. The
candidates' differing press accessibility played a crucial role in the dynamic of Bush's
attacks and Dukakis's responses. Dukakis's accessibility allowed the media to question
him in daily press conferences, which they used to elicit responses to Bush statements
made earlier in the day. Bush, meanwhile, was protected by the insularity of his one-
message-a—day campaign that included rare press conferences. The criticism that Dukakis's
campaign lacked focus stemmed from the several messages he seemed to provide each day,

which was rooted in his accessibility and tied in to his inclination to respond to Bush. This

81
gives lie to the notion that Dukakis, as the conventional wisdom held going into the first

debate, had been largely passive in the midst of an unbridled Bush barrage.

Another "failed" strategy with which the press indicted Dukakis was his inability to
create his own message; to set his own agenda to which Bush would have to respond.
This strategy had intrinsic difficulties, again because of Bush's insularity. Bush did not
have to respond to Dukakis if he did not have to face a questioning press. If Bush did
respond to Dukakis attacks, he did it on his own terms. When, in August, Dukakis
attacked the Reagan administration's record on drug interdictions, Bush avoided a direct
response and turned the issue to fit his own needs, which was to accuse Dukakis of
undermining the efforts of Drug Enforcement Agency agents. This is called displacement
(Jamieson 210), a tactic made all the more effective if 1) the press can't ask a candidate to
clarify his response and 2) if the press fails to correct distortions. On this occasion, £er
reporter Bill Peterson did correct Bush's distortions, but more occasions than not reporters
had a difficult time keeping up with the distortions. For instance, when Bush began using
the Willie Horton theme in June, early reports were filled with disclaimers for Bush's
promiscuous use of facts on Dukakis's furlough program in Massachussetts.6 By the time
the fall campaign began, however, the press no longer was providing such disclaimers,
instead referring to the effectiveness of Bush's strategic ploy of hammering on the crime
issue. So, while Dukakis was trying to strike a balance between his attacks and responses,
his attacks drew no engaged response from Bush, and the Democrat's responses were seen
as defensive. J arnieson defines engagement as a " process of comparison that enables
audiences to determine which argument has the greater force. " The two primary elements
to engagement are "clash" (pitting two opposing positions against each other) and
"extension" ("response to response," which "carries the argument forwar ") (Jamieson

216). The cumulative effect resulted in Dukakis's strategy appearing ineffectual,

 

6 See, for example, Rosenbaum, David. "Bush Talks Tou on Crime, Criticizing Prisoner Furlough
Program." Wes June 23, 1988: By; or Reid, .R. "Most States Allow Frrrloughs From Prison."

flashingtnnflnsr June 24, 1988: A6.

82
developing further into the bleaching conventional wisdom of "unanswered ideological

attacks." Lost were the intricacies of the exchange (or non-exchange), largely determined
by press coverage dynamics. A reification occurred: Hazily perceived and relatively
intangible activities were given a factitiously concrete form, simplified and labeled with
words and other symbols (Lumsden and Wilson 381). The fact that the reification occurred
under false assumptions points to specious logic that was to descend through the remainder
of the campaign.

Thus, on September 14, the W had Dukakis "now [joining] the fray," a
move they had Dukakis making for nearly a month now; if one is just today joining the
fray, one's past fray-joining didn't happen. Robin Toner wrote that Dukakis, in the
previous month, had responded to Bush attacks with a "marked lack of enthusiasm and the
expression of a dyspeptic." His speeches until recently had "included only a few digs at
Bush." But now, "the entire text has revolved around [Bush]." Sasso, the campaign
manager freshly returned, was credited for the apparent turnaround (Toner September 14,
1988: A28). On September 16, the Tribune credited Dukakis with replacing "studied
nuance" with one-liners. Still, Dukakis's "slow" response to the GOP barrage may have
offset any chance he had at turning his campaign around (Lentz September 16, 1988: 15).
On the same day, the msAngelesTimes quoted "top aides" acknowledging that Dukakis
had "made nristakes in recent weeks." Chief Dukakis adviser Paul Brountas, said, "I think
they took on a much more intense level than we expected. The Bush campaign made a
decision to attack us personally. The psychiatry rumor, the patriotism question, on the
Pledge of Allegiance, on the flag incident. And the distortions hurt us" (Drogin September
16, 1988: 1). Brountas' admission was not uncommon in the Dukakis campaign, though
most comments came from either unnamed aides or Democratic strategists outside of the
campaign. An indication of the Democrats' inexperience, as well as the party's less unified
nature in comparison with the Republicans', was their willingness to speak candidly about

their own candidate with what media critic Jonathan Alter describes as "ego leaks." A

 

83
possibile explanation for Democrats' self-irnmolations was that they held an inferiority

complex with respect to strategy; they were aware of their second-class status to their
superior Republican counterparts, not the least formidable of whom was the legendary
Roger Ailes, who had participated in the Republicans' run of successful campaigns since
1968. To be able to "play the game" at the GOP's level, the Democrats would have to
assume the same air of hubris, which included realistic appraisals of the campaign that were
based partially on similar readings of public opinion polls. The GOP'S reading of the

polls, focusing on the bottom line, the lead, was to their benefit. Democrats could have
found their strength in the shadings and ambiguities of the public temper, but chose to
avoid possibly appearing naive and credulous, sticking with the simplest message coming

from the polls.

W

Dukakis's apparent boost of confidence in the second week of September had to do
partially with the networks' positive portrayal that week of his focus on issues against
Bush's symbolic campaign (Toner September 14: A28). But a journalist's impressions of
a campaign's interior sentiments count far less than those tapped in public opinion polls.
The polls are intricately interwoven into the media's appraisals of the campaign.
Accordingly, the same day that one W reporter was suggesting a possible
reversal of fortunes for Dukakis, another article used poll figures to Show that Bush had
"transformed the 1988 election into a contest about his issues." E.J. Dionne based this
statement on several competing findings, the most significant of which was that Dukakis's
"negative" ratings and Bush's "favorable" ratings had risen simultaneously between the
aftennaths of the Democratic and Republican national conventions. Bush now led Dukakis
47 percent to 39 percent in a poll of 1,606 adults. "What is not in doubt is the deterioration

of Dukakis's popularity," wrote Dionne. Bush had been able to make many of his

84
criticisms of Dukakis "stick." What was in doubt, however, was the strength of Bush's

lead. More than 40 percent of the voters were either undecided or said they could still
change their current choice. The notions of Bush "setting the agenda" and making his
criticisms "stick" may not have held such strength if Dionne gave more emphasis to the fact
that among the one third of the voters who were paying "a lot of attention to the campaign,"
Bush led by only 1 percent. Where other polls indicated a somber mood over economic
prospects, this Wes/ABC News poll showed that 57 percent of registered
voters felt that the economy was either improving or already in good shape. The strength
of Bush's polarizing tactics could be found in the public's view toward the question of
"ideology." Only 10 percent said they looked favorably on someone who was described as
a liberal; 30 percent said they viewed someone labeled a liberal less favorably. "To be
labeled a conservative was more a political plus than a minus," wrote Dionne. The
Times/ABC poll recorded the lowest level of identification with liberals--15 percent--since
the two news organizations began polling together in 1979 (September 14, 1988: A1).

A different view emerged from poll results released on the same day by the LesAngeles
Times. Bush and Dukakis were "now running neck and neck" at 47 percent each. Both
had roughly equal sources of strength: Bush, from voters' impression of his ability to
handle foreign affairs and his ties to a "popular" Reagan; Dukakis, from voters' "strong
desire to 'point the country in a different direction,’ away from Reagan Administration
policies, even if [Reagan] is popular." Dukakis, George Skelton wrote, benefitted from the
perception of uneven economic growth. Voters by a 9 to 1 margin (89 percent to 9 percent)
agreed the economy is "very good for some people, but not very good for others"; Bush,
most voters agreed, "favors the rich." One question rarely found in polls--"Do you think
George Bush has tOld lies about the Iran-Contra affair, or not?--revealed still-fulrninating
suspicions in the public's mind, as 49 percent answered yes, 25 percent no, and 26 percent
"don't know." Another poll, by the Roper Organization, showed Dukakis in the lead by
six points (Skelton September 14, 1988: A1). The flashingtenjnst/ABC News poll

85
released a day later had Dukakis ahead, 48-45. The article indicated that Bush was ahead

or even with Dukakis in three other national surveys, but failed to include the Roper
Organization's findings (Peterson September 15, 1988: A10).

The polls and their accompanying articles raise important questions about their uses.
The manner in which questions are asked, the questions asked and not asked, the shifting
moods of the public, and the varying ways to interpret the findings all point to the pliability
of polls. In the 1988 campaign, more polls were taken than ever before in a national
election, yet polling practitioners themselves questioned whether polling methods came any
closer to understanding the complexities and subtleties that make up a "public opinion."
After the 1988 election, LA "Bud" Lewis, polling director of the Lesflrgelesjflmes, said:

[P]erhaps the most profound influence of media polls is on the media
themselves. Some journalists--not all of them in the boondocks, either-have a
tendency to make as much as possible out of horse race figures. This impulse
can sometimes produce unintentionally slanted stories, stories that seek to explain the
successes of presumed winners and that emphasize the failings of expected losers
(qtd. in Lavrakas and Holley 60-61).
Wines editor of polling services Michael Kagay wrote of the "public confusion"
over the meaning of polls, citing the close contest and a proliferation of polls that each
week tell "somewhat different stories." These story variations reflected the "especially
transitory" and fluctuating public moods, but also the differences between polls. Inherent
errors in random sampling methods, differences in who is in the sample and how questions
are asked comprise the "imprecise" nature of polling, wrote Kagay. The saving grace of
newspapers' use of polls, suggested Kagay, was the sampling error "caveat" each report
announced (September 12, 1988: A16). But Kagay failed to account for the defining
powers that polls possessed, which partially originate from the need for clarity. For
example, the NeflQrkTimes' Dionne failed altogether to mention findings from other
surveys that contradicted his organization's. The failure may reflect a journalist's
reluctance to bog down his interpretations in ambiguities that conflicting results would

yield. This suggests the premium journalists and their organizations place on constructing

clear and unifying themes--which necessarily obviates against the very suggestion of

86
ambiguities that the sampling "caveats" are intended to keep in place. In the same manner,

the continual references to the "softness" of Bush's lead lost effect when that lead, based
on its duration, was announced as "commanding."

But for the consistency of Bush's lead, the primary message that could be extracted
from the polls was the volatility of the electorate: a disenchantment with the choice of
candidates, anxieties over their economic futures mixed in with a present sense of comfort,
a longing for a discussion of issues such as education, the environment, health care and
crime; and continuing suspicion over the Reagan administration's ethical irnproprieties and
foreign policy scandals. The polls showed that economic anxieties consistently topped the
list of voter concerns--one poll showed that 63 percent of registered voters thought that
"someone in their community would find it difficult to find a 'good job at good wages,‘ "
while 3 percent thought it would be easy (Dowd September 14, 1988: A29). But enough
other concerns spread the field to suggest that no single issue predominated. In condensed
form, however, these complexities of a highly segmented populace with diverse needs and
outlooks would ultimately be defined as a sense of general and relative prosperity. Such an
interpretation--goaded on by Republican strategists--held intrinsically higher value for
Bush, who by representing the incumbent party relied on the notion of relative prosperity
as a reflection of successful policies, than for Dukakis, who as a challenger, needed the

public to be consciously aware of whatever societal anxieties existed.

W

The leader of such a fluid race might expect to face challenges from a press seeking
elaborations on his views of the varying concerns of the diverse electorate. Indeed, the
press did respond to public demands for a broader discussion of issues, with stories on
topics ranging from the candidates' views on the economy, the federal deficit, foreign

policy, education, health insurance, arms policies and the environment The Tribune, for

 

87
instance, touted its series of "occasional articles on the problems voters are talking about,"

such as "national security interests," and family matters like parental leave, child care, and
raising the minimum wage. Voters were talking less about "containing communism than
about international economic issues" (McNulty September 11, 1988: 1). Yet, as the
first debate neared, these stories were subordinated by stories that continued to emphasize
the importance of tactics, with a fresh twist: what expectations did the two candidates carry
into the debate? -

Despite the many variables contributing to confusing readings of the campaign, certain
solid impressions were in place as the two candidates headed into the first debate on
September 25. The main impression--that Bush had now held a lead in most national polls
since Labor Day--determined differing expectations for either candidate. For Bush,
reporters wanted to know if all he had to do was to project himself as a "person." The
press was cognizant of Bush's attempt to lower expectations for the debate to "minimize the
damage if Bush does poorly" (Gerstenzang September 17, 1988: 18). For Dukakis, the
imperative was for a dramatic tumabout

The press's regard for issues-~or its interpretation of the public's view toward
issues--is especially revealed in how it covered the periods just prior to and after both
debates. Expectations were built from the foundation of performance, from a discourse
driven by drama rather than issues. "... politicians and political consultants say that Bush
and Dukakis would be foolish to try to get deeply into many issues. If the campaign is
proceeding as it is, they say, that is only because the candidates are responding rationally to
the incentives of the system and the wishes of the electorate. If one thing is clear, it is that
the voters themselves see 'the issues' as of secondary importance to their choice." Dionne
drew this conclusion from the poll data that Showed 67 percent of voters placed importance
on competence over issues. Democratic political consultant Darry Sragow said that voters
were looking for a "basic feel for who a candidate is and where he's going Voters aren't

going to make their decisions on the basis of a lot of these issues" (September 18, 1988:

88
Al). The problem with Dionne's interpretation of the poll finding and Sragow's quote is a

lack of definition. What constituted "issues"? The question in the pOll did not ask voters to
distinguish the kinds of issues that were of importance from those they felt irrelevent In
this way, a blanket disgust could be applied across the board equally between issues like
Willie Horton (crime), the Pledge of Allegiance (patriotism), health insurance and jobs.
Which of these did the voters not want to hear about? Had Dionne drawn in this article
from poll data gathered throughout the campaign to delineate the public's interests, he
would have shown that the issues regarded as irrelevent were patriotism and Willie Horton,
while other issues such as health insurance or jobs were intricately linked to the notion of
"competence." The Pledge of Allegiance, for instance, in one poll was rated ninth in
importance on a list of 13 issues (Broder and Morin September 21, 1988: A1). A story by
Dionne on September 25 showed that only one respondent of 802 registered voters
answered the pledge of allegiance as the most important issue; two said patriotism.
Economic concerns (unemployment, inflation and the state of the economy generally) were
listed by 22 percent as the most important; the budget deficit, by 10 percent; 13 percent
listed defense, nuclear weapons or other foreign policy issues (September 25, 1988: Al).
How could the pOpulace look for where a candidate "is going" without substantive issues
as a guidepost? The importance given to non-verbal cues by the media, strategists and
consultants suggests how substantive issues would be marginalized while those very issues
that the public disdained held center stage in the debate coverage. As the expectations game
enlarged, how each candidate would demonstrate leadership in front of an anticipated
audience of 100 million focused primarily on non-verbal cues rather than intelligently
discussed ideological positions. The press often appeared to be at odds with itself,
struggling over the two competing imperatives--the public's growing demand for substance
over image versus the requisite performance values of nationally televised debates. The
latter won handily while the former aroused only peripheral attention, a possible reflection

of the ascendency of media strategists in the race. But voters had a hand in this thrust,

89
also, contended Ens; political reporter, Paul Taylor, in his book on the campaign, Seeking

W:
The signals that journalists get from the voters are no less paradoxical. The voters
say they want more substantive coverage of the issues. But if they meant it, then the
' , or something like it, would air on ABC, NBC, and
CBS--not on PBS, where it draws a tiny fraction of the viewership of the market-
driven commercial networks. [I]t was these voters who had been accomplices in

their own manipulation. For all their complaints about the emptiness of the
campaign, they hadn't exactly rewarded candidates who took on substantive issues

(7).
The stakes of the debate circled around such factors as facial gestures. [P]eople often
form their impressions based on a whole host of visual cues gestures and style often
speak as loudly as words. Handled properly, a smile can be a most potent weapon. But
it needs to be used carefully." The burden for fulfilling such requirements fell more heavily
on Dukakis because of his position in the race and the growing impression that Bush
evoked more warmth than Dukakis. Dukakis would have to "avoid coming off as stern and
even arrogant" to loosen the image Bush had planted of him as cold and bureaucratic
(Oreskes September 18, 1988: A16).

A voter backlash against the "vacuous" campaigning of Bush appeared to be developing
in the week prior to the debate, wrote the Tribune's Jon Margolis. "Some polls indicated
that Bush had lost some or all of the shaky lead he had built up and Democrats speculated
that Bush may have Overdone his criticism of Dukakis" (Margolis September 18, 1988: 1).
But, at the same time some were crediting this tumabout on the public's interest in the
details that Dukakis was providing that week on his national defense positions, others
attributed his fresh successes to his new "ebullience" toward tactics. How much more
initiative Dukakis could seize, however, depended on his upcoming debate performance
(Toner September 19, 1988: A16).

For the week prior to the first debate, the two candidates were fully engaged over
economic issues, a period in which the press actively fleshed out differences and
contradictions. Dukakis issued a series of indictments of Bush's claims of prosperity,

while Bush responded that Dukakis was "pursuing a strategy of dividing Americans 'by

90
class.‘ " Dukakis appeared to win out in this argument, but only because the press referred

to independent sources for information. Against Bush's claim that the Reagan
administration had "made Americans at every income level better off," the LnsAngeles
Times cited economist Joseph Minarik of the "non-partisan" Urban Institute as saying, "all
the evidence I have seen is that there has been a widening of the US. income distribution."
US. Census figures showed that in 1980, those in the lowest 20 percent of the US.
economy received 5.1 percent of the income; by 1986, their share was down to 4.6
percent. Those in the upper 20 percent received 41.6 percent of the nation's income in
1980, and their share rose to 43.7 percent in 1986 (Gerstenzang and Balzar September 20,
1988: 1). Bush vowed that he would take the country in a more "compassionate direction,"
saying he was "haunted" by the thought of children who grew up "amidst the violence and
horror" of the inner cities. The Dukakis campaign criticized Bush for "cynicism" for
offering "himself as the champion of the poor" after being a leader in an administration that
made cutbacks in programs for the poor. "There has been no significant reduction in the
poverty rate for children or adults in the US. during the [Reagan administration]," wrote
the Nemlerklimes' Maureen Dowd, "and at Reagan's request, Congress has made
numerous cutbacks in social welfare programs. According to data released by the
Government last month, 22.8 percent of all children under 6 lived in poverty in 1987.
Poverty rates for minority children [were] worse ..." Dowd continued on, citing the
Reagan administration's efforts to minimize the seriousness of homelessness by providing
"substantially lower estimates of the homeless than have social welfare organizations."
Dowd ended her piece with a tone rarely heard during the campaign: "While Dukakis was
calling for Bush to 'come out from behind the flag' and talk about what he would do about
health insurance, a Subject on which Bush has offered no program, the Vice President had
surrounded himself with thousands of American flags, colonial flags, state flags and
inaugural flags" (Dowd September 21, 1988: B6). The Best produced the lengtlriest

examination of the issue, explaining that the "Reagan expansion is an unusually lopsided

m.

91
one, and the prosperity that is typical for some is not for others." The Best quoted

Republican political analyst Kevin Phillips, who read a laundry list of victims of the uneven
expansion: "Young males, young families, older males in blue-collar occupations, farmers,
female heads of household-you've got a long list of groups of people who have been on
the downside in real terms." Nearly one million blue-collar jobs were lost in the 19805 and
real earnings wages dropped by a dollar an hour, which "spelled bad tidings for young,
less-educated men" (Blustein September 22, 1988: Al). Meanwhile, Bush's flag factory
visit in New Jersey played more successfully in the Tribune, which congratulated Bush for
his "virtuoso" symbolic performance, in which Bush proclaimed that "flag sales are doing
well and America is doing well" (Collin and Cawley September 21, 1988: 4). Bush's flag
factory visit did not play so well with veteran Republican Barry Goldwater, who the next
day introduced Quayle to the Midtown Phoenix Rotary Club by saying: "I hope you take
this kindly. I want you to go back and tell George Bush to start talking about the issues"
(Balzar September 22, 1988: 20). The Post's Lloyd Grove suggested that the television
networks' portrayal of the Goldwater quip as a "swipe at the conduct of the Bush
campaign" may have "marked a turning point in the fall campaign, when the TV advantage
shifted perceptibly away from [Bush] and toward [Dukakis]." The same-night and next-
morrring coverage of Goldwater's quip
capped several days, beginning late last week, from which the lingering images on
the network news broadcasts were of Dukakis offering specific solutions for national
problems and of Bush making gaffes, staging content-free campaign events,
attacking Dukakis, and as ABC correspondent Brit Hume reporter, 'wrapping
[himself] in the flag.‘ (Grove September 23, 1988: A16)

Part of the difficulty in developing a public rapport with such candidate and media
engagement lay in the timing of the press's release of polls. In the midst of the Dukakis-
Bush exchange over economics, the 2er released results of a poll that showed Bush ahead
50-46. Bush was shown to have " gained ground significantly on a variety of economic,

defense and foreign policy issues" and on the "basic pocketbook question": which

candidate would be better for the voters' financial future. The effects of such a report

92
might be regarded as neutralizing: During a week in which Dukakis scored the Reagan-

Bush administration's neglect of the poor, as well as the uneven income distribution that
occurred, Bush gets the good news-based on previous campaigning that had little such
engagement over economic issues--that makes it appear as if he "won" that week's
economic debate. In this way, the press was able to maintain the well-wom theme that the
stakes in the upcoming debate were highest for Dukakis. "For him, clearly, a good or bad
performance before Sunday's massive television audience could shift millions of votes.
Bush has improved on personal qualities: honesty, empathy, ability to get things done
(Broder and Morin September 21, 1988: Al). These very qualities were called seriously
into question by Dukakis and critical press coverage of that week, but did not enter into this
report's interpretations. The Urban Irrstitute's Joseph Minarik, three days later, placed
"personal qualities" in a different context: "... [W]hat is really at issue is the compassionate
leanings of the campaign. What liberal government is about is seeing that the economy
grows as rapidly as it can to help those that are left behind. It's that kind of compassion
that has been lacking for the last eight years" (Kilbom September 24, 1988: A34).

Similarly neutralizing stories appeared in the LesAngelesTimes over the next three
days. Drawing from the sentiments of three former Democratic party chairmen, Jack
Nelson reported that Dukakis was "falling so far behind" that the debate was perhaps
Dukakis's "last chance to breathe new life into his slumping campaign." The three top
Democrats-John White, Robert Strauss (who later served as an ambassador in the Reagan
administration) and Charles Manatt--"are known to feel that the Dukakis campaign is in
deep trouble." One "former party official" (Nelson did not indicate if his source was one of
the three ex-chairmen) feared that "It may be too late. I feel it in my bones that Dukakis is a
goner" (Nelson September 21, 1988: 1). Two days later, Nelson wrote a piece based on
the Times Mirror Company's national polling data that appeared to substantiate the claim
that Dukakis was far behind, showing Bush ahead 50-44. "Bush has seriously

undermined [Dukakis's] image by labeling him a liberal who is soft on defense and by

%
repeatedly attacking him on emotional issues involving crime and the American flag"

(Nelson September23, 1988: 1). Both of Nelson's stories were written from earlier
perspectives--the latter based on a poll taken between September 9-13, a particularly tough
period for Dukakis. Neither story made reference to the recent signs of change in the
complexion of the campaign, an important consideration in such a fluid campaign. These
stories exemplify how the flow of press perspectives can gain inertia, keep moving in the
same direction unaffected by fresh and competing forces. New generalized "takes" on the
campaign have difficulty surfacing and challenging those that are relatively secure.
Nelson's stories could be done because they fit into the prevailing sense of urgency that the
debate represented, and it drew off well-established and increasingly inflexible
conventional wisdoms.

At the same time that Dukakis's emphasis on the economy appeared to get lost in
overarching horse-race analysis, Bush continued to reap the rewards for his tactics. The
day before the first debate, the Best based its analysis of Bush on comments of advisers
and political friends, who said "Bush has demonstrated talents as a communicator in recent
weeks, under carefully controlled circumstances, that they have never seen before."
Though Republicans were wary of the possible explosiveness economic issues could
represent in the debate--as well as questions of ethics and scandal--they were intent on ’
preserving the impression of Bush's vastly improved communication skills. "The debate
also is expected to be a clash of styles and personalities, and it is on this battleground that
Republicans are optimistic." Analysis thus turned to elements of style. GOP consultant
Jay Smith said Bush had "obviously changed his style. His modulation is much lower.
His voice is lower. He's talking slower. It's a combination of going low and slow, versus
what used to be a tendency toward being high-pitched, what some who were less charitable
said was whiny" (Hoffman September 24, 1988: A10). The same pre-debate Ens]; issue
analyzing Dukakis focused more on issues Dukakis would raise. But it delved into

performance expectations as well. Still undefined was the distinction between issues and

it;

94
character; Democratic political advisers did little to clarify these distinctions. "If he wants

to wage the debate exclusively over issues and voters' views of how we're doing, Dukakis
is going to lose. You've got to get beyond that to character and leadership" (Walsh
September 24, 1988: Al 1). How avoiding issues could clear the path for a view on
leadership and character, again, is puzzling. The Democrats' subscription to this formula is
even more puzzling, given the disporporhnate benefit Republicans derived from it
Media critic Thomas Rosenstiel laid out as full a rendering of the debate's television
imperatives as existed in the campaign a day before the first debate, which, while
demystifyin g and helpful, also fit into the broader performance-expectations game rules by
which the press fully abided. "Who wins presidential debates often has little connection
with who has mastered the issues, debated well or seemed most able to govern. TV,
with its need for action and 30-second sound bites, can transform an insubstantial one-liner
into a decisive moment." Republican media consultant Robert Goodman aided Rosenstiel
along in his analysis: "Debates are not debates at all, they are performances." Rosenstiel
then warned of a "subtle process" that would take place over the days that followed the
debate, yielding a "winner," since most viewers were unable to "independently judge
winners." This "process" included the publication or broadcast of early post-debate poll
findings, which would help guide the media in their next coverage steps. Republican
strategists were already at work, wrote Rosenstiel, in shaping this process by providing the
context in which reporters view the debate beforehand. George Bush, they say, is
ahead in the polls and has sufficiently lowered expectations about his debating talents
that he does not need to accomplish much in the debate If reporters are convinced
this is plausible, it may become a self-fulfilling prophecy. (Rosenstiel September
24, 1988: 1)
Note that the very process of context building that Rosenstiel described occurred in his own
piece with the use of Goodman's quote. Roger Ailes provided just such context building to
the Wimes that day with a typically irresistible quote: "Even if George Bush
makes a gaffe, he'll still be seen as a human guy" (Dowd September 24, 1988: A35).

Republican pollster Robert Teeter would base his analysis of a focus group he assembled

95
around the notion of Bush and Dukakis as "human guys, " or "likeable," which would gain

wide application in the days following the debate. Controverting all evidence that showed
an increased desire for the discussion of substantive issues, as well as an array of voter
concerns, the American Enterprise Institute's William Schneider provided more "context"
in an analysis by the Neflnrklimes' Dionne published the day of the debate. Schneider
called the debate important, wrote Dionne, because "there were no overriding issues."
Schneider: "When the big issues matter less, the small issues matter more. So, small
things, like one-liners and gaffes make a big difference." In this very analysis, Dionne
used poll data showing that 52 percent of voters said the candidates were not saying
"enough about the issue they felt should be most important." That 37 percent of voters also
had no preference yet for either candidate, Dionne surmised that voters were "waiting for
the new information they hoped the debate would provide. " Yet, the overarching essence
of his story grew out of Schneider's take: That "small things, like one-liners and gaffes,
can make a big difference." Schneider also specifically framed Dukakis's expectations for
Dionne, saying, "Dukakis needs to reassure people that he's safe, pragmatic and doesn't
have a bunch of wild ideas," a suggestion, if followed, that Republicans would gain from,
given the many points of attack to which Republicans were vulnerable. Yet, Dionne closed
by prescribing a nearly impossible task for Dukakis: Dukakis "will have to launch an
effective attack on Bush and at the same time avoid looking disagreeable or argumentative
..." (Dionne September 25, 1988: A1).

Many of the campaign's inadequacies could be imputed to the Bush campaign, or his
Republican surrogates: Bush's inaccessibility, his content-free symbolism (the Pledge of
Allegiance, Boston Harbor), the virulence of his messages (Willie Horton, false
accusations of flag burning and psychiatric treatment), avoidance of his leadership record
(Iran-Contra, Noriega, ethical breaches in the Reagan administration), his unrelenting focus
on the negative attributes of his opponent. Dukakis could be accused of lacking photogenic

qualities, and, of strategic disorganization. As for addressing the larger issues of the day--

96
arguably the ideal for a presidential campaign-Dukakis had been the more conscientious by

a fair margin. Yet, despite the growing cry for a more substantive dialogue--and recent
improvements in that area--Bush headed into the first debate with a set of expectations that
acquitted him of the need to address issues, primarily because his "aggressive approach"
had apparently resonated in the polls more successfully than Dukakis's more cerebral
approach. And since "issues" were considered of peripheral importance, Dukakis entered
the first debate handcuffed on his one superior campaigning attribute, an inclination to talk
about policy matters, if not a better grasp of them. The candidates "know full well that the
tone [they] strike can be as influential as any specific words [they say]," wrote the Neg
lorklimes' Michael Oreskes. A sociological view prevailed. One of the debate period's
more widely quoted authorities on media and politics was Kathleen Hall J arnieson, then
professor of communications at the University of Texas. Her expertise in communications
helped journalists prioritize stage elements of the debates, solidifying the centrality of "non-
verbal cues" to the performance requirements of Dukakis and Bush. "We make an
immense number of judgments and base an incredible part of life on those judgments.
Who to hire as a baby sitter? Who to buy a used car from?" There is no reason, she said,
to expect people to suspend that kind of judgment when it comes to picking a president.
Therefore, Bush would be judged on "voice pitch," the length of his sentences and his
ability to curtail the flailing of his hands. Dukakis would have to "display emotion and
humor, be less stiff," avoid being pedantic. Though Democrats contended that their polling
showed Americans wanted a leader, "not a friend," Oreskes's analysis took a less
credulous view: "Americans say they want the presidential race to be about issues, not
images. The reality is that voters react from their instincts. [T]hey want somebody they
can feel good about, who embodies their image of a president" A presidential image could
be struck, Jarnieson said, by the candidate who speaks with a "deeper pitch" [which] "is
associated with decisiveness, competence, masculinity ..." (Oreskes September 25, 1988:

A24).

97
Tribune political reporter Jon Margolis's analysis on the day of the debate showed that

expectations did not have to be built from the performance perspective. Margolis drew
from polling data from five "key states" that showed the race was full of mixed signals and
in a virtual dead heat (Bush held a "shaky margin" of 46-43, with a four percent sampling
margin of error). Nearly half (43 percent) of the voters said the debate would be either
fairly or very important in determining which candidate they would support, which
suggested that the debate "could change the dynamic" of the campaign. A slightly larger
sample felt "less favorable" toward Dukakis than toward Bush than a "few weeks ago" (37-
to-35 percent). Though 40 percent thought the economy was on the right track, almost half
agreed with the statement that "George Bush does not really understand the needs of the
middle class"; and 61 percent thought Dukakis "would fight for the average person" as
president Margolis concluded:

So, if Dukakis can get the campaign agenda back on such economic issues as health

care, student loans and social security he might be able to cut into Bush's strength

among the swing voters. In addition, several of the respondents said they remained

troubled by Bush's role, if any, in the Iran—Contra scandal (Margolis September

25, 1988: 1).

Though voter indecisiveness and middle class economic concerns vested cruciality to the
debate, Dukakis faced the greater "imperative because he is the lesser-krrown contender, the
challenger to an incumbent administration, and right now the underdog," wrote the Les
Angeleslimes' Robert Shogan. Shogan's premise followed the frame provided by
Republican consultant John Deardourff, who said, "Dukakis has a heavier burden than
Bush. The evidence is almost unassailable that he is behind. He has to make something
happen." The burden fell on Dukakis to "humanize" his candidacy, to respond emotionally
to issues, to show humor, "but not at the expense of Bush," which would be "seen as
mean-spirited"; and to "stress substance, but avoid getting bogged down in details." Bush
would have to show that his emergence from Reagan's shadow was "no fluke" by pointing
out campaign proposals that go beyond or conflict with Reagan; avoid his "wimpish

image"; avoid gushing or groping ("don't enthuse"); emphasize his national security

 

98
experience, but avoid providing an opening for Dukakis to assault him on Iran-Contra.

Shogan ended his analysis with a closing disclaimer that veered from the premise he'd
followed tlrroughout--Dukakis's greater imperative-that had been largely overlooked by
the press in its pursuit of clarity: "To most analysts, the latest pre-debate polls indicate that
while Bush has an apparent advantage, the dominant reality of the election is the ambiguity
of voters toward both candidates." Polls suggested a tenuous race, but Republican
suggestions of a much more stable lead for Bush appeared to guide the press's outlook.
Contrary to Shogan's suggestion of a "dominant reality" of an ambiguous electorate, the
idea that Bush had less to lose than Dukakis canied far greater circulation. For example,
there was no Democratic response in Shogan's analysis to the comments of James Lake,
Bush's campaign communications director: "Coming out of this debate, if Bush is no
worse than he is going into it, it is going to be mighty tough for Dukakis to put together the
momentum to catch us" (Shogan September 25, 1988: A1). The press wrote little to
contradict the premise that Bush faced lower expectations. Bush made it a point in a rare
press conference a day before the debate to lower expectations "by pointing up his own
tendency to commit the costly verbal blooper" (Gerstenzang September 25, 1988: A26).
Even this frame, however, provided Bush with a pair of advantages that the press did not
appear to recognize: 1) By focusing on " gaffes" as the standard by which to judge him,
Bush could marginalize the importance of issues. At no time did Bush face a similar
expectation level for answering questions on policy issues as he faced for appearing strong;
and, 2) By ridiculing and forewaming of his own propensity for committing " gaffes,"
Bush disanned even those who might have considered criticizing him from that standpoint
Bush had already received much playful bantering from his traveling press corps after his
September 7 speech, when he mistook that day for Pearl Harbor Day (December 7). This
strategy corresponded with the patterns already set in campaign coverage: the press avoided
value judgments on ideological or policy questions. Instead, they were intent on the

performance standards J amieson and other media experts characterized. So the ground

99
nrles were laid for the first debate. The press would be on the lookout for decisive

moments that would revolve not around points of ideological differences but one-liners,

gaffes, smirks, hand gestures and shifty bodies.

CHAPTER VI

THE DEBATES: EXPECTATIONS AND
PERFORMANCE EVALUATION

The following section first gives a glimpse of how each of the four newspapers reported
the first debate in their next morning's news stories on September 26, including the initial
analysis. A broader analysis of the prevailing perceptual environment, or conventional

wisdoms, that began to emerge on September 27, will follow.

W

The Wes had Dukakis "relentlessly pressing the Iran-Contra affair and drug
policy" of Bush, and Bush "criticizing Dukakis's stands on military issues, the death
penalty and taxes." Bush's main thrust was that Dukakis lacked experience and had shown
failed liberal judgment as Massachussetts gOvemor. Dukakis contended Bush played a key
role in an uncaring administration, had demonstrated flawed judgment on the Iran-Contra
affair, dealings with Noriega and "other issues ranging from health care to military policy."
Dukakis "set the tone for his approach by going on the attack within three minutes of its
start." Of particular notice, Dukakis raised the Iran-Contra scandal and Noriega's drug
dealings, "two matters that have faded in the public's mind in recent months, to

[Dukakis's] detriment" Bush aides conceded afterward that Dukakis had "turned in a

100

 

 

1 01
forceful performance" and "did not praise their own candidate's performance, seeking

instead to raise doubts about Dukakis" (Dionne September 26, 1988: Al).

The question of who "won" the debate was sublimated into a broader discussion of how
debate "victories" get decided. "It is a fact of political life that what gets said about the
debate can be as important as what gets said in the debate." Reporters denied their stories
were influenced by the post-debate "spinning" by allies of either candidate--even as they

were "furiously jotting down the various views" (Oreskes September 26, 1988: A1).

CHICAQQIRIBIINE

Dukakis "branded" Bush with the failures of the Reagan administration, and Bush
"countered strongly," referring to Dukakis's past support of a nuclear freeze and
"contrasting it with his own World War II experience as a combat pilot" (McNulty and
Collin September 26, 1988: 1). Charles Madigan's analysis suggested that who "won"
was "all a matter of political or ideological perspective." Neither candidate varied from his
campaign themes, which represent "conflicting views of the American reality, of
government and its obligations." The televised debate was "the most substantial exchange
since the genre was born" in 1960. Dukakis "scored" for defusing the patriotism issue, for
sounding "well-versed and clear in his discussion of foreign policy," for not sounding
liberal and not looking "dumb." Bush scored "a major point, too, when he looked into the
camera's eye and told the TV audience" he would be willing to share all the blame for Iran-
Contra and Noriega if given half the credit for foreign policy achievements. But in the end,
there were "no flubs, particularly from Bush, who can be flub-prone," and both
candidates' performances were "undoubtedly warmly received by their supporters"
(Madigan September 26, 1988: 1). Had Madigan written his piece from the perspective of
the more than the third of voters whose opinions were not yet formed, his analysis may
have taken a more biting approach and may have forced him to apply value judgment to

some of the issues the candidates raised.

1 02
The most widely heard phrase used by network anchors--"no knockout punch"--

appeared to influence Tn'lmne writer Steve Daley's analysis. "Historically, televised
presidential debates have turned on a moment, a one-liner, a gaffe that gets hung around the
neck of the candidate. This confrontation was highlighted by sharp disagreements and a
hostile tone, a tone that grew more pronounced as time passed. But the one crucial moment

seemed to be missing" (Daley September 26, 1988: 7).

W

David Broder applied the phrase, "no lmockout," though he credited Dukakis with
showing the "huge televised debate audience that he could deflect George Bush's efforts to
place him outside the mainstream of American politics." Broder critiqued Bush along the
Jarnieson continuum, saying he had "some moments when his language and voice seemed
to steer out of control." An ABC News poll of 639 voters gave Dukakis a 44-to-36 percent
margin as winner. But what turned out to be the debate's defining appraisal came from
Republican pollster and Bush debate coach Robert Teeter. Teeter "said a focus group of
undecided voters that he organized rated Bush as 'friendlier and more likeable.‘ " The
debate was a draw, Teeter said, but their "voting intentions moved slightly in Bush's
direction."

Dukakis had kept Bush on the defensive, wrote Broder, a "major step forward for
Dukakis." Dukakis showed emotion over Bush's inference to his patriotism, saying, "He
is questioning my patriotism, and I resent it." Bush, Broder wrote, took his toughest shot
with that response. The tone of the debate--partly determined by the questions of the panel
ofjoumalists—-helped keep Bush on the defensive, over such issues as drugs, the deficit,
health insurance, AIDS, housing, homelessness and urban poverty ("with abortion the only
conservative issue on the table in that time"). "After tonight, it seems almost certain the

race will remain close until that second debate in mid-October. Dukakis scored no

 

1 O3
knockout tonight, but he certainly denied Bush one--and the way the race had been going,

that in itself was a victory" (Broder September 26, 1988: Al).

W
The W' Jack Nelson also cited the ABC poll indicating a Dukakis
victory, but chose to reserve judgment: "The debate's 'winner‘ may not be determined until
November 8." By perforrrrance standards, the debate could be seen as a wash, because
"Neither candidate committed a major gaffe [although] both occasionally expressed
anger." Apparently, the drama of Dukakis coming out "swinging" on his first comment
("Here we are with a government that's been dealing with a drug-running Panamanian
dictator") did not fit performance standards. As Dukakis continued to "hammer away" at
the Iran-Contra and Noriega issues, Bush "appeared rattled," wrote Nelson. Bush's
response could have been the opening the press was waiting for to address these issues as
topical, but instead was regarded as a strong retort, given its apparent bravado. "I'll make
a deal with you. I will take all the blame for those two incidents if you give me half the
credit for all the good things that have happened in world peace since Ronald Reagan and I
took over ..." (Nelson September 26, 1988: 1).
Robert Shogan found a "decisive moment" in Dukakis's defense of his patriotism.
"One of the most dramatic moments of the evening" came when Dukakis said:
I hope this is the first and last time I have to say this. My parents came to this
country as immigrants. They taught me that this was the greatest country in the
world. I'm in public service because I love this country. And nobody's going to
question my patriotism as the Vice President has now repeatedly (qtd. in Shogan
September 26, 1988: 1).
"With those words," wrote Shogan, "Dukakis met head-on the challenge from Bush. ..."
Dukakis had proven he was more "emotional and human," said Jarnieson. Dukakis had

succeeded, in this moment, in personalizing his candidacy. Dukakis "otherwise was as

cool and controlled as usual" (Shogan September 26, 1988: l).

104
WES

NEEL‘LQRKIIMES
The followup editorial by the Wes reflected the conventional wisdom that

began to emerge a day after the debate: Dukakis's answers

were certainly more pointed, and Mr. Bush often found himself on the defensive.

Set against Dukakis's relentless self-assurance, however, his occasional gaffes and

recovery lines—-'wouldn't it be nice to be the iceman so you never make a mistake'--

brought a touch of warmth ("Debates, Domesticated" September 27, 1988: A34).

Dukakis turned in the better debating performance, appeared presidential, and managed

to put Bush on the defensive, even Republicans agreed. But Bush succeeded in "painting
Dukakis as a liber " and appeared more "likeable"--which left the campaign "more
muddled than before and as open as it has been since at any point since last spring," wrote
the Wes Dionne. Bush's campaign manager, James Baker, rarely quoted,
felt the time was important enough to help create a frame: Dukakis failed to "come across as
likeable, less dour and less technocratic than he has appeared in the past." Bush's
communications adviser Lake provided supporting context: "I think Dukakis did a nice job
and I can understand why some people say that if you score it on debating points, he wins.
But you can't score a presidential debate on debating points." Democratic pollster Paul
Maslin confirmed the Republicans' view, saying, "It's not enough to win on the
forensics." The accumulative force of the strategists' views did little to support Dionne's
contention Of a renewed race. The implication of Dukakis's lack of warmth mitigated
against any notion of advantage gained by "debating points," which in itself was argued to
be a negative, serving to subtly elevate Bush as the winner. Dionne's conclusion clashed
with his own opening premise: "If Bush aides and early polls are right, Dukakis will need
more than just a debating victory on points. A split decision may be enough for Bush.

Dukakis needs something more" (Dionne September 27, 1988: B6).

105
W

Jon Margolis, who during the campaign occasionally switched between the roles of
political analyst and columnist, produced a column attempting to explain why an issue like
"likeability" counted. "We are not just electing a president. We are electing an uncle. Or
perhaps a brother-in-law or neighbor." For the amount of exposure a modem-day
president receives on television, "a presidential candidate's demeanor may be more
important than his plans for reducing the budget " Americans, Margolis said, preferred a
"silly uncle" to a "dour one," and most definitely resented "snide chipmunks," which is
what Dukakis appeared to be when he smiled smugly at Bush. "There is a real question as
to how many voters want to invite a snide chipmunk into their living room" (September 27,
1988: 23). Though Margolis appeared to write his column partly in jest, his fundamental
point did not veer from the emerging conventional wisdom: Americans were primarily
concerned with feeling comfortable with their candidate, and that Bush had done the better

job in evoking that comfort.

W

The first debate had not changed the "dynamics" of the campaign, wrote the Posts Paul
Taylor, meaning roughly that no consensus for a winner emerged, or that if Dukakis had
"won," it was by a margin insufficient to change the dynamics. By the time Taylor and
others were writing their followup analyses, the press's focus had almost completely
dropped reference to issue differences between Bush and Dukakis, and assumed the
position of the theater critic or media analyst. The "likeability" factor introduced a day
earlier by Teeter gained wide circulation, as media consultants from both parties described
Dukakis's performance under such as terms as "tightness" and "smugness." Republican
pollster Linda Divall said Dukakis "didn't sound very humanistic in handling" Peter
Jennings' question on whether he was a technocrat who had "no passion" about the great

issues Of his era. "He was more like a robot. Bush was more meandering and there were a

1 06
few gaffes, but overall, he probably came across as more human and likeable than

Dukakis." Teeter invoked the phrase he erected the day earlier, saying, "I think the most
important thing may have been the likeability factor." From that notion descended a novel
standard for judging a presidential candidate, cleverly asserted by Democratic consultant
David Garth: "... you wouldn't want to have a beer with him" (Taylor September 27, 1988:
A1).

W

Only a close-if not disingenuous--reading of the polls gave credence to the appraisals of
the strategists. Prior to the debate, one of the widely perceived gulfs between Bush and
Dukakis was on their respective abilities to project "warmth," with Dukakis lagging far
behind. A poll taken by the LesAngelesTimes after the debate showed that the two ran
roughly even on counts of "warmth" (Bush receiving 36 percent to Dukakis's 34 percent
on "who had more warmth"), and "likeability" (Bush only " slightly more popular"). Yet, it
turned out that the Tunes interviewed those same people prior to the debate and found that
more people "predicted" Dukakis would "have more warmth" than Bush (38-to-28
percent). It was on Dukakis's decline in "warmth" and "likeability" that the Times based

the significance of their poll. If not for that decline between the voters predictions" and
their post-debate feelings, there would have been no credible "likeability" story. Another
valid angle not taken would have been to show that a "tie" for Dukakis in the "warmth" and
"likeability" columns represented a win, considering the wider views that prevailed before
the debate. Other hints that suggest a voter shift toward Dukakis included a Bush 43-41
percent lead dwindling to a 46-46 percent tie; and that 35 percent felt Dukakis won,
compared to 34 percent for Bush. Twenty-nine percent felt the debate ended in a tie
(Skelton September 27, 1988: 1).

Media critic Thomas Rosenstiel's early assessment of the media's cautious "creep

toward a consensus" that Dukakis was a "marginal" victor and that the race was "now

l 07
tightening" (Rosenstiel September 27, 1988: 16) gave way the next day to a more

ambiguous reading of the event. The press "backed off' the story of Dukakis as clear
winner, wrote Rosenstiel, perhaps because "the media may never want to get too far ahead
of the polls or public opinion on a story."

The flaw in Rosenstiel's premise lies in his presumption that a consensus proclaiming a
Dukakis victory existed. Most analyses, as shown above, settled on the judgment of media
consultants that "forensics" and "debate points" did not count; the winner of a debate--
which, in the words of one consultant, was not a debate, but a performance--did not
necessarily gain politically. The most enduring assessment of the first debate was that
Bush had come across with more "warmth"--this election's guidepost. The strongest
affirmation Dukakis received was that he had done enough to "stay in the race."
Nonetheless, where the press the first day after had at least judged Dukakis a winner of
debate points--which worked to confirm Dukakis's image as "cool" and unemotional--by
the second day, even that advantage vanished. Rosenstiel used an ABC followup poll
showing Dukakis's edge growing-—34-to-24 percent--but the largest pool of respondents,
43 percent, calling the debate a draw. Bush himself had a changed heart a day later: "I feel
better today than the night of the debate. I felt it was about even, and I now think

maybe we did a little better than that" (Rosenstiel September 28, 1988: 14).

W

Jon Margolis summed up the final consensus that emerged in the aftermath of the first
debate: "One conventional wisdom is that Dukakis did enough to stay in the race.
Politicians on both sides, though, thought Dukakis would need a clearer victory in the
debate to have much chance of overtaking Bush at the end. " This appraisal gives an
equivocal meaning to the idea of "staying in the race." If "staying in the race" did not

confer the possibility of "overtaking Bush at the end," then no there is no inherent value in

 

 

 

 

 

 

l 08
staying in the race. Thus "staying in the race" is an empty phrase which translates into "has

already lost." Given the tension between "warmth" and "forensics," the final rendering
appeared to yield to Bush (Margolis September 29, 1988: l). A Gallup Poll, released on
September 29, showed Bush "clinging to a narrow lead" (47-to-42 percent), though most
(38-to-29 percent) thought Dukakis "did a better job. " Though Bush's lead had contracted
from a 49-41 edge, the lasAngeleinmes reported that "little changed," in the campaign
and that the debate "had little effect on voter preference," suggesting that though Dukakis
was regarded to have "won" the debate, his inability to gain politically neutralized the idea
of a win Wines wire reports September 30, 1988: 20).

The press showed great reluctance in choosing a winner from the first debate, perhaps
because it had been so devoid of all the performance pegs built into the press's
expectations. Why the press descended on the issue of "warmth" or "likeability" stems
from their inclination to stay away from policy issues. Where Bush received praise for the
"warmth" he evoked with his "ice man" comment ("Wouldn't it be nice to be perfect;
wouldn't it be nice to be the ice man so you never make a mistake?"), Dukakis received no
accolades for his sharp criticism of Bush and Reagan for "cutting and slashing programs
for children. Do we spend money on (the Strategic Defense Initiative program) in the
billions and trillions or isn't providing some decent, affordable housing for families of this
country at least as important?" Dukakis could have but didn't win points for drama or
empathy with his caution to the audience to:

- listen to the Vice President carefully. What he's proposing is a tax cut for the
wealthiest 1 percent of the people An average of about $30,000 that we're going
to give to people making $200,000 a year. Why, that's more than the average teacher
makes. We've had enough of that (qtd. in Nelson September 26, 1988: 1).

To arrive, as did the Post's Paul Taylor, at the appraisal that the "dynamics" had not
changed required that one eye be focused sharply on the "horse-race" element of the
otherwise irresolute polls and the other eye be shut to issues raised in the debate. Had
reporters followed up on any of the many possible angles provided by the debate's several

sharp exchanges, the dynamics undoubtedly would have changed. One problem reporters

l 09
face is regular exposure to the candidates' issue positions, which serves to numb their

senses. But, even for that small voting public paying attention to the campaign, the
exchange between Bush and Dukakis was their first exposure to many issues. The
dilemma journalists faced-~of trying to create fresh angles on "old" issues without being
seen as waging an independent crusade--could have been circumnavigated. Given the
character of Bush's lead ("soft" and "moveable"), and the sharpness of Dukakis's verbal
assault on issues of public interest, a natural press reaction could have been to test the
strength of Bush's lead and to see if the issues the challenger raised resonated with the
public.

The debate could have provided the press fresh perspectives on lingering yet mostly
unexplored campaign issues that may have altered certain perceived advantages that Bush
held. From debate material, the press could have explored such notions as leadership
(How did Iran-Contra reflect the kind of leadership Bush would bring to the Oval Office?),
"likeability" (How did the Reagan—Bush record of eliminating social programs reflect on
Bush's "warmth"?), and even the assumption of a "Strong defense" (what national security
benefits did the nation derive from a system that produced the Pentagon procurement
scandal?) The press did expand on Bush's relationship with Noriega, as depicted in the
previous chapter. By avoiding broader connections--such as suggesting patterns of
unsavory international relationships--and staying with the issue for one day, the press

deflated any potential salience that the issue might otherwise have evoked.

DBA #

If a single difference existed between the coverage of the two debates, it was the
media's quick declaration of a winner after the second. Tracking polls based on small
overnight samples showed a wider margin of victory for Bush than those that showed

victory for Dukakis after the first debate. Equally large margins of voters considered Lloyd

l 10
Bentsen the winner in the October 5 vice presidential debate with Dan Quayle, but the press

then refrained from declaring a winner. What gave the press its opening to declare a clear
winner after the second presidential debate was that it had the single decisive moment the
press was waiting for; and which comported with the press's expectations: Dukakis, on the
first question, asked by CNN anchor Bernard Shaw, revealed the very lack of emotion that
had become such a cenual focus of the campaign:

Shaw: "Governor, if Kitty Dukakis were raped and murdered, would you favor an
irrevocable death penalty for the killer?"

Dukakis: "No, I don't, Bernard. And I think you know I've opposed the death
penalty during all of my life. I don't see any evidence that it's a deterrent, and I
think there are better ways to deal with violent crime. We've done so in my state.
And that's one of the reasons why we have had the biggest drop in crime of any
industrial state in America; why we have the lowest murder rate of any industrial
state in America (Germond and Witcover 5).

Strangely, however, most first reports overlooked the significance of Dukakis's
response to Shaw's question, though they alluded generally to missed opportunities. How
Dukakis's demeanor maintained a cenuality to the campaign partly revolved around the
notion that the dynamics of the race had not changed after the first debate. If the dynamics
were the same, the logic goes, then Dukakis had dealt insufficiently with his predominant
image, that of the "passionless technocrat, the smartest clerk in the world," as ABC anchor
Peter Jennings put it in the first debate ("Debates, Domesticated" September 27, 1988:
A34). Thus, similar expectations preceding the first debate held for the days leading into
the second debate. The press laid out these barely revised expectations with the confidence
that the expectations circled around accurate conventional wisdoms. One conventional
wisdom, for instance, was that Dukakis had not yet answered Bush's attacks, which fed
into the perception of a passiorrless technocrat unfettered by emotional issues.

If the dynamics of the campaign had not changed, it could then be said that Dukakis was
still fighting old demons. This perception held for the Tribune's Jon Margolis, who as late
as October 12, was quoting disgruntled Democratic strategists about Dukakis's failure to

respond to Bush's attacks. The strategists were not lamenting fresh Bush attacks but those

 

l l 1
that Dukakis "failed" to respond to in late August. "Most of these charges are false,"

Margolis wrote, in the present tense, [B]ut for weeks the campaign never tried to
demonstrate the falsehoods." One "veteran Democratic operative of the Dukakis high
command" was quoted as saying, "They're very issue-oriented, very intellectual. They just
couldn't believe that attacks on these flimsy issues would have any effect They also
thought people wouldn't believe lies. But people do believe lies if you don't tell them the
truth." Margolis conceded that some of the " grumbling" from the Democratic side came
from "political Operatives who may be bitter about having no role in their party's
presidential campaign." But, their view was "shared by many Republicans," so the reader
is left to have faith in Margolis's premise on the basis of such partisan claims. Margolis
can be credited for posting a rare--if not entirely unique--disclaimer around the many
negative Democratic source comments journalists elicited. But, by combining the views of
disgruntled Democrats with those of the political opposition, Margolis succeeded in
keeping alive a conventional wisdom-flawed that it was--that had been disspelled at least
the week prior to the first debate (Margolis October 12, 1988: 1). Jesse Jackson finally
vented his frustration over the Democrats' lack of unity and glibness on the day of the
debate, accusing other Democrats of being "analysts when they should be activists,"
contending that too many Democrats were blaming Dukakis's Massachusetts-based
campaign organization for the poor showing that the national Democratic ticket was making
in their areas (Tumulty October 14, 1988: 29). Five days earlier, Dukakis had mounted an
effective response to fresh Bush attacks on the Willie Horton issue. He accused Bush of
"exploiting a human tragedy for your own political ends," recalling that his late father,
Panos, was the victim of assault and robbery and that his younger brother, Stelian, was
killed by a 1973 hit-and—run driver. "So I don't need any lectures from Mr. Bush on crime
fighting or on the sensitivity or compassion we must extend to victims of crime ..." (Walsh

October 9, 1988: A18).

l 12
The Bests Edward Walsh credited Dukakis with, in recent weeks, transforming his

campaign into a "formidable challenge" for Bush. Dukakis aides seemed " genuinely
convinced that they remain[ed] within striking distance of victory." But, those late August
days, Walsh wrote, still dogged the Dukakis camp. The "disarray in the field" had
reflected the "smug insularity" of Dukakis's Chauncey Street clique and rubbed wrong on
Democratic outsiders. Campaign head John Sasso's "reach-out"effort to these excluded
Democrats had helped revamp the "old team," which was now producing more effective
assaults on Bush. But, wrote Walsh, "there remains a major question among many

Democrats" about whether Dukakis could engage himself in a battle with Bush over

 

"character and values," rather than policy issues (Walsh October 9, 1988: A1).

The perception that Dukakis had not responded to Bush attacks tied directly into the
wider notion that he felt no passion (hence, compassion) over the issues Bush was
exploiting, like crime. Though Dukakis displayed his emotions on such issues during
stump speeches, as well as in his first debate performance, the perception persisted heading
into the second debate that Dukakis lacked human emotion. Bush attempted in the week
prior to the second debate to capitalize on the notion that Dukakis possessed "an
astonishing lack of sensitivity, a lack of human compassion," calling him the "furlough
king" (Hoffman October 8, 1988: A9).

The press's patience for Bush‘s continuation of the Willie Horton theme had worn thin,
but still they acknowledged the popularity and unavoidability of the theme. " [Bush] gave a
tough law-and-order speech today. Again. Like the producers of a Show held over by
popular demand, his campaign strategists have decided to keep the focus on crime for
another week because their polling shows it is the most effective issue to swing undecided
voters into their column" (Taylor and Hoffman October 11, 1988: A1). The "patch of
adversity" that Quayle's shaky debate performance represented pushed Bush back onto
"familiar and safe turf pulling out all stops to make crime his issue ..." (Cawley October
12, 1988: l).

 

1 13
Republican strategists began to float the suggestion that recent history portended an

electoral lock for Bush. Four of the previous five presidential elections had gone to
Republicans, and 23 states that represented 202 electoral votes (of the 270 needed for
victory) voted Republican in all five elections. This was a "built-in advantage that could
prove crucial" in a tight race, wrote the Wmes‘ Dionne. Iee Atwater, one of
Bush's top campaign advisers, contended that Bush's base in the South and Rocky
Mountains was "secure" and that Bush had "already sewn up something over 200 electoral
votes" (Dionne October 12, 1988: A1). This story coincided with one based on similar
information that ABC aired the night before the second debate. ABC took criticism for
airing the report so close to a crucial campaign event, raising the stakes for Dukakis to near-
irnpossible levels. Most of the media concluded that "Only a decisive win in the second
debate could revive an obviously faltering Dukakis campaign," wrote the LesAngeies
Times' polling director Lewis. "The second debate proved to have a negative influence on
the Dukakis candidacy, in part because of the impact this poll had had on the media."
Studies showed that the projections of the 50-state electoral vote were supported by shaky
data. Research for the poll was done over a three-week period, a significant space of time
in a campaign, in which opinions were shifting daily. Additionally, the samples from some

states were too small to be statistically valid (Lavrakas and Holley 61, 81).

NESLYQRKIIMES
The W also published poll data that, with Bush maintaining his lead, 47-
42, showed that Dukakis "badly needs to use the presidential debate with Bush tonight
to improve his standing." Dukakis aides feared that only an exceptional performance could
erase the doubts of "whether he will ever be able to overtake Bush. ..." From these
premises, the requirements for Bush were even more "modest": He must be "competent on
substantive questions, and more importantly, appear warmer and more personable than

Dukakis." Voters, who after the first debate had been introduced to the term "likeability,"

l 14
and were initially virtually split on the two candidates, now considered Bush more

"likeable," 47 -to-37 percent The desire for change, Dionne added, "appears to be
receding," which has further "eased Bush's task in the 1988 presidential campaign and
Dukakis's more difficult" (Dionne October 13, 1988: Al).

CHICAGILTRIBIINE

Dukakis adviser Kirk O'Donnell, convinced that Dukakis had made enough progress in
the previous two weeks' polling, said, "We don't need a big win." The Tribune's Jon
Margolis, although conceding "some progress," placed the higher stakes on Dukakis.
"Dukakis needs a win more than Bush, and he needs a bigger win than he got in the first
encounter." The nice-guy/tough-guy prescription would be tough to balance. While being
the " aggressor," Dukakis must also "seem somewhat gracious," said one Democratic
strategist Bush merely needed to avoid mistakes and "keep Dukakis on the defensive"
(Margolis October 13, 1988: 1).

W

Dukakis was in "dire need of a breakthrough to change the dimensions of the race,"
wrote the Pests Edward Walsh. Dukakis, "widely considered the winner" of the first
debate, would have to "convey a better sense of himself and his fundamental values."
Voters did not find Dukakis "likeable." Walsh, as did all journalists, failed to heed the
initial figures showing only a 36-to-34 percent edge for Bush in that category. Instead,
Walsh fed off the trough of the consultants. Here, he used the salty words of an old
Republican hand, Ed Rollins, who said, "The closer you get to Mike Dukakis, the less
warmth there is and the less you like him. He has an almost impossible tas " in
overtaking Bush. Democrats, as typical during the campaign, had difficulty applying a
spin that veered too far from the Republican read. Sasso said: "What is important is for the

American people to know who [Dukakis] is, know what his values are, know who would

 

1 15
get the benefit of the doubt when the door of the Oval Office closes. " Bush merely needed

to "reassure" those voters who had already decided to vote for him (Walsh October 13,
1988: A21).

A conflict exists between the press's description of Dukakis as the winner of the first
debate and the political benefits accorded a winner. First, there was no such declaration
after the first debate. Dukalds perhaps won on " debating points," but the press refrained
from conferring victory on those merits. If Dukakis had "won" that first debate, he would
have gained a political boost, not only from the polls, but from coverage that a triumphant
political moment typically generates (like the "bounce" candidates get from national party
conventions). Movement in post-debate polls require followup coverage--what Rosenstiel
called the "consensus-building process," a reaction that "many experts consider as
important as the debate itself in shaping how the public remembers the event" (Rosenstiel
September 28, 1988: 14). So, a Dukakis boost in the poll would have required a boost in
the type of coverage he received after the debate. No such benefits came his way, so his
standing in the polls remained relatively static. A circular condition existed. Since the
press did not find significant what upward movement Dukakis experienced in the polls,
they did not alter their mode of coverage. Hence, the prevailing thought that the

"dynarrrics" remained unchanged.

W

The "irrefutable calculus of the polls lined the strategic realities"--four public surveys
taken in the previous 10 days showed Bush leading by margins ranging from three to seven
points. From Dukakis's perspective, this represented a "striking distance." From Bush's,
no "significant inroads" had been made recently. This thesis contends that the variation in
story angles taken from either perspective is crucial, as the choice of one bears significantly
on the other. The press made choices between perspectives like this all campaign long.

Given the press's propensity to follow the lead of the polls (without acknowledging their

1 l6
influence on the polls), Bush's eight-week long lead in the polls held a strong influence

over the press's choice of perspecives, which in turn helped maintain Bush's lead.

Some Democrats tried to dispell the expectation that a "knockout" was needed, that
Dukakis should just try to "concentrate on making himself more human as a candidate
Polling evidence buttressed this belief: "Most viewers thought Dukakis won" the first
debate by "seeming crisper and more knowledgeable than Bush." But the "little or no
ground" gained by Dukakis suggested that his performance was lacking in the "likeability"
column, Democrats agreed (Nelson and Shogan October 13, 1988: l).

 

W

The outcome of the second debate could be viewed as predictable. Dukakis's relatively
high expectations and Bush's minimal requirements presented the former with an
inordinately difficult--if not impossible--task. The press's reaction was equally predictable,
considering the frame of expectations they had erected and with which they would view the
event. What stood out in the press's reactions were some subtle revisions of their earlier
assessments. By the end of the second debate, for instance, the press's conventional
wisdom decreed Dukakis as having been "widely regarded" as the winner of the first
debate. As pointed out earlier, the press never conferred the political benefits the winner of
a debate might expect accrued to him. The phrase, "widely regarded," implies that Dukakis
was a "clear winner," a misleading inference, given the press's reluctance to make such a
declaration. If Dukakis was not a "clear winner" of the first debate, then the notion of
having been "widely regarded" as the winner holds no value and is misleading as a
concept. A possible explanation for the press's willingness to belatedly bestow the triumph
to Dukakis was a need to rationalize their rush to judgment on the second debate without

appearing to apply double standards.

117
W

E.J. Dionne was particularly reserved in his day-after analysis of the second debate,
writing that Dukakis displayed a "command of issues and details, and sought to convey
more personal warmth than he had" in the first debate. Bush, Dionne wrote, "seemingly
more assured than in the first debate, avoided the sort of major misstep that might have
derailed his candidacy." Dionne failed to make any reference to Shaw's opening question;
the closest he came to identifying a defining moment was Dukakis's rigid response to a
question about whom children should regard as an American hero. "He seemed taken aback
and offered only general categories of people": doctors, police officers and scientists
(Dionne October 14, 1988: A1).

By the next day, Dukakis's response to Shaw's question took a central position in
strategists' assessments of his performance. "Over and over Democrats cited Dukakis's
failure to give a more personal response when asked if he would still oppose the death
penalty if his wife, Kitty, were raped and murdered. " Strategists criticized Dukakis for
choosing to "win the battle for affability" over the battle over who was the stronger leader.
Dukakis had not succeeded in shifting the agenda and generating momentum for the rest of
the campaign, said Democratic pollster Paul Maslin The instant polls coincided with that
judgment: margins of "victory" for Bush ranged from 16 points in an ABC News poll to 23
points in a CBS News poll. The LesAngelesTimes' poll had Bush winning by a 47 -to-26
percent margin. Some Democrats "openly talked about the specter of a disastrous loss,"
wrote Dionne, quoting Maslin as saying: "The worst thing is for Dukakis to slide into a
double-digit defeat" (Dionne October 15, 1988: Al).

One way the press certifies its value judgments, analyses and assessments is by citing
others in the media that confirm their work, even if they are done ostensibly as analyses of
the other media. One ironic example of this came when, in the Neulerk Times' Andrew
Rosenthal's piece analyzing the networks' rush to judgment on the second debate--which

gave clues to the Times' overall critique--network officials cited morning newspaper

1 18
accounts as one basis of confirmation of their views. This mirroring process appears to be

one way the press maintains distance and "objectivity" from its subject while utilizing those
interpretive instruments accessible at the given time. Rosenthal's piece also subtly revealed
the limits of interpretation that the 1988 campaign contained. Remarks by NBC
I commentator John Chancellor characterized the campaign's primary interpretive limitations
-what could be considered to be the main flaw of the entire press's coverage of the
campaign. Chancellor said: "I think the words winner and loser are dangerous
joumalistically. You can talk about performance, but how issues are handled and more
detailed analysis, that's more for print than for TV." Chancellor, first, held the misguided
assumption that print analyzed the debates on the candidates' presentation of issues. His
logic on performance standards, though flawed, held a window to the entire press's--TV's
and print's--approach to the campaign. "Performance" was viewed as an area Open to
debate because it apparently held no intrinsic ideological (thus, ostensibly, political)
weight Little effort was made to evaluate candidates on their policy stances-«he truest
measurement for ideology. In the absence of ideological evaluation, the political value
contained in performance evaluation filled the vacuum. It was on the performance basis
that the networks apparently made their quick assessments. Rosenthal wrote: "After
deliberately not picking a winner in the two previous debates, the networks declared
George Bush the victor Thursday night." NBC anchor Tom Brokaw thought Dukakis
would "have something in his hip pocket, some kind of dramatic new position"; it was the
fact that Dukakis had not unveiled a new position, rather than the substance of a position,
that Brokaw cited. ABC's Sam Donaldson, using a football analogy, said that the "long
ball" Dukakis needed to throw had not been thrown.

One explanation used by network executives for declaring Bush the winner was that the
instant polls showed a "clear winner." Rosenthal pointed out that the networks had not
given the same triumphant treatment to the equally clear victory that Bentsen eamed over

Quayle in the vice presidential debate (one poll showed a 51-to-27 percent margin of

 

1 19
victory for Bentsen). ABC News President Roone Arledge attributed this disparity to his

polling unit's lack of preparation after the Bentsen-Quayle debate. Rosenthal also quoted
Marvin Kalb, director of Harvard's Center on the Press, Politics and Public Policy, as
saying Dukakis was a "victim of an unfair expectations game." But those expectations,
Arledge said, were based on the state-by-state electoral vote poll ABC broadcast the night
before the debate that showed Bush's apparent electoral lock. "So our interpretation of this
event was that Dukakis really had to do something extraordinary to turn this thing around
and that was the logical basis for the story" (Rosenthal October 15, 1988: A8).

W

The Tribune's first news report also set forth a reserved tone, though it did settle on
Bush as the political winner. "Neither candidate scored an obvious victory But Dukakis
had the most to lose which meant the advantage was likely to accrue to Bush." Again,
the question that would later be determined to be the "defining moment" was overlooked.
The question that " seemed to fluster" Dukakis was not Shaw‘s, but the one about
contemporary American heroes. " He rambled ..." (McNulty and Cawley October 14, 1988:
1 ).

Media analyst Steve Daley identified Shaw's question as the "lowest moment" of the
debates, though not as Dukakis's political deathblow. "Rather than attempting to rise
above the dismal level of this presidential campaign, the panel was starnpeded by the hot
buttons. ..." (Daley October 14, 1988: 13).

Dukakis's lack of emotion on Shaw's question was typical of his campaign, but also
indicative of Dukakis's inability to capitalize on the moment He passed up "several
opportunities to ridicule the vice president or goad him into anger or a mistake." Neither
candidate was a "clear winner," which " according to the conventional wisdom, was all to
Bush's advantage." Dukakis had confirmed his image as an "abstract, bloodless candidate"

on the Shaw question and the "heroes" question. "Dukakis did not take advantage of the

120

opportunity to express outrage at the question or to express any love for his wife"
(Margolis October 14, 1988: 1).

Two days later, Margolis suggested that Dukakis had lost an opportunity to cut a swath
into a tenuous race; that, prior to the second debate, Bush's lead "was not only small, it
was shaky, with perhaps 20 percent of his supporters indicating they might change their
minds before election day." Now that the second debate was over and Dukakis had missed
his Opportunity, Bush "doesn't have to" make a case for himself anymore. "Most
mystifying of all," wrote Margolis, was Dukakis's reluctance to refute Bush's "harsh
attacks," just as he had during the campaign. These attacks were "easily refutable by an
articulate candidate determined to fight back. [In the debate] he seemed determined, to
the dismay of many Democrats, not to fight very hard at all. ..." (Margolis October 16,
1988: l). Contrary to Margolis's view, the conventional wisdom going into the second
debate was that Bush did not have to make a decisive case for himself. Margolis is correct
that Bush's lead was shaky, but wrong in stating that the press's pre-debate outlook was
guided by the fluid conditions of the campaign. And his continual reference to the
"unanswered ideological attacks" logic at least partially distorted the record and perpetuated

the most common, and one of the most flawed perceptions of the campaign.

W81

The second debate was consistent in showing the contrast between the candidates'
personalities, wrote David Hoffman and TR. Reid. "Dukakis appeared, as he had in the
first debate, to be more cerebral and policy-oriented, while Bush, who was excited and
tense in the first encounter, came across as more relaxed and humorous (Hoffman and
Reid October 14, 1.988: A1).

David Broder analyzed the net political effects accrued from these personality
differences. On Shaw's "deliberately shocking" question, Dukakis's face "was as
impassive as if he'd been asked the time." Dukakis entered the debate furnished with

 

l 21
advice from future Democratic candidate and winner Bill Clinton--to "aggressively

counterpunch, heavy and hard, assert a vision of America that allows people to see things
will be better if he wins and worse if Bush wins and allow people to make a connection
to him by showing his passion and humor." But, Broder wrote, in the debate's aftermath,
Democrats were "wonderin g whether Dukakis had accomplished any of those three, let
alone hit the triple target" (Broder October 14, 1988: A1).

LQSANGELESIMES
Jack Nelson made reference to the "widely held" perception that Dukakis had "edged"

 

Bush in the first debate before declaring in his day-after story that "most felt Bush had the
upper hand here" (Nelson October 14, 1988: 1). Nelson perhaps forgot his initial appraisal
of the first debate, in which he stated: "The debate's 'winner' may not be determined until
November 8." Nelson's news story was accompanied by a prominently placed boxed
sidebar in the upper right hand column on instant poll results showing that Bush was the
"big winner." The "immediate reaction" of 522 voters, taken for two hours directly
following the debate, showed that Bush displayed more "warmth," seemed "more
likeable," and had outperformed Dukakis. Bush "won, " 47-to-26 percent, according to
these immediate reactions (Skelton October 14, 1988: 1). The Wm, after the
first debate, referred to poll results indicating an edge for Dukakis in themain news story.
Robert Shogan wrote that, according to "most" analysts, Dukakis, as the underdog,
needed to "whip Bush soundly"; Democratic political scientist Austin Ranney, chairman of
the UC Berkeley political science department, said, "He needed to hit a home run, and all
he hit was a single." There were some "uneven moments" for Bush, but with a
"monthlong lead in national polls, Bush could afford some uneven moments.
Dukakis's "dour and bloodless demeanor" had overshadowed Bush's previously
questionable psyche and had "become the focus of journalistic scrutiny." So, Bush's

"smooth" followup response to the panelist's question on "likeability"--which Dukakis

l 22
flubbed with a technical-sounding answerucame off as not only dignified, but as the

epitome of a candidate's leadership qualities. Bush said:
I don't think it's a question of whether people like you or not to make you an
effective leader. I think it's whether you share the broad dreams of the American
people. I think it's a question of values, not likeability or loveability (qtd. in
Shogan October 14, 1988: 1).
Here, Bush succeeded in downtalking the very value system-"likeabi1ity"--that his
strategists had elevated as the pre-eminent issue of the campaign, a cousin tactic to the one
Bush parlayed between the double-edged Willie Horton-and-"kinder/ gentler" themes
throughout his campaign.

The press described Dukakis's debate performance--based on supporters' "behind the
scenes" comments--as "somewhere between defeat and disaster" (Dionne October 15,
1988: Al); his chances as "just about over" (Margolis October 16, 1988: 1); and his task in
the upcoming four weeks as "onerous" (Dionne October 16, 1988: A1). Meanwhile, two
days after the debate, during a rare Bush press conference, the press quizzed Bush on what
his election would represent (Boyd October 17, 1988: A16).

Two Best articles in the immediate aftermath of the second debate summed up the
press's view on how Bush had been able to virtually put an end to the campaign 25 days
before Election Day. Bush constructed a campaign of "simplicity," which worked to
obscure issues that would have been damaging to his chances. A "veteran" Democrat, N
lawyer Harry McPherson, held the oft-stated view that "there are no real issues," so, in that
climate, it was "then possible to convert cliches into issues. The Bush campaign had
approached the electorate like a mass market in search of a quality soap product, suggested
University of Virginia Professor of rhetoric William Lee Miller, a Democrat:

it's inherent that your appeals be basic, simple, elemental, and almost
necessarily irrational. It's symbols, it's association and it's a danger to the republic.
It's really a grotesque study in American political morality--the latest and worst
development in a tendency that began in 1952 when public relations and advertising
techniques started to become part of campaigning in a big way. It hammers
association like product advertising: 'Lucky Strike Means Fine Tobacco,’ 'America's
Turning 7-Up.' But what does that mean? What policy significance does it have?

As far as I'm concerned, none. But, alas, the thing works (qtd. in Grove October
15, 1988: A1).

 

- l 23
What also worked was Bush's "ability" to sidestep potentially damaging issues that the

Reagan administration scandals represented while reaping the benefits of Reagan's

successful policies. "A few months ago," wrote the 2951's David Hoffman,
it appeared that Bush would be saddled with the legacy of such episodes as the Iran-
Contra affair and the Environmental Protection Agency scandal, the ethical questions
of Ed Meese HI and the charges that drug-running by the Panamania strongman
(Noriega) was overlooked. Dukakis has tried mightily to make these Reagan
liabilities stick to Bush, and some of (Bush's) top strategists were braced for an
onslaught at the debate Thursday. But Iran-Contra didn't come up, Noriega was
absent In short, the old Reagan liabilities seem to have receded as voter concerns
-or have been disguised by Bush. Dukakis, lagging in the national polls, may be
having difficulty making them an issue.

Hoffman then quoted two Republican sources as saying "there's no juice left in them

[the Reagan liabilities] " and "They're old issues. Both Dukakis and [Bush] have put the

focus on the future, and ironically, that erased concern about the past" (Hoffman October

16, 1988: A26).

Grove's and Hoffman's assessments touched the same chords the press had played
since before the Republican national convention, when the very first movements in the
polls began to indicate the success of Bush's attack tactics. These appraisals formed the
touchstone--the guiding principles-—to the press's prevailing perceptions throughout the
campaign. Both of these analyses, however, contain the flawed assumptions that have
been cited throughout this thesis: a dearth of issues allowed "cliches" to serve as campaign
issues; Dukakis was incapable of making issues "stick" and voters had lost interest in "old"
Reagan liabilities. The first assumption stemmed from polling information showing no
single, predominating issue. But, as stated above, the public had many concerns, which
may have reflected the complexities of a growing and diverse society, rather than relative
comfort. The latter two assumptions fail to account for media performance; fail to
understand the implications of story choice, story angle, source elevation and
marginalization, among other important factors that shape media perceptions, and ultimately
political realities. Had the press, for example, not decided that Iran-Contra was "stale,"

and pursued any number of the possible stories that the issue could have yielded, Dukakis

 

1 24
may indeed have been able to make the "old" Reagan liabilities "stick." Hoffman stated that

Dukakis did not raise these issues in the second debate. What Hoffman left unstated was
the relative silence with which the press greeted Dukakis's pointed and biting references to
the issues in the first debate. The two Republicans quoted in Hoffman's piece could not be
expected to suggest anything other than what served their interests, though even the latter
source's contention that the candidates' focus on the future "erased concern about the past"

struck a lurid, Orwellian tone that Hoffman appeared to accept unquestioningly.

 

CHAPTERVII

SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION

The major intent of this thesis has been to establish, in empirical fashion, the conduct of
four major national newspapers in the 1988 presidential campaign: What images of political
reality--the perceptual environment--did each newspaper contribute to the campaign? What
politically crucial information did the four newspapers transmit and omit? What "raw and
malleable ingredients of reality" (Entrnan 40) did the media mold into political reality, and
what influenced the molding process? Though this thesis has attempted to present the four
national newspapers in their own unique light, a larger picture evolved over the duration of
the campaign suggesting similar patterns of coverage that yielded a generalized climate of
opinion. If the premise holds that these four news organizations possess individual and
accumulative agenda-setting influence over less prestigious or influential news
organizations, one can surmise the degree to which their coverage affected the direction and
complexion of the campaign. Had, for instance, the New Yerk Times eschewed the
practice of relying so predominantly on the views of strategists and instead devoted their
energies to contextual reporting-balancing the record against statements, policy decisions
against proposals-~perhaps the strategists would not have held such a prominent place in
the campaign. That may have meant less emphasis on the horse race and the visual
"requirements," and more emphasis on points of policy. Given the W‘
prestige, a rippling effect may have been felt through the rest of the media, pitching the

125

 

126
campaign at a distinctly higher tenor. This is speculative, but the intent of this thesis has

been to lay forth the possible alternatives that could have been taken in 1988.

This thesis makes little attempt to infer the public's use of the press's total product other
than to suggest generally that the overall conduct of the campaign contributed to public
confusion and apathy, resulting in the lowest voter tumout for a presidential election since
1924. That only 50.16 percent of the voting population decided to cast ballots in 1988
(Taylor 1990: 4) gives notice to the exceptional character of the campaign. A combination
of factors could have turned off the public, including the choice of candidates, the depiction
of candidates by either side, and the focus on "theater" rather than policy. The selection of
issues should be regarded as a crucial element to the low voter interest Half of all voters in
a WCBS poll taken after the election expressed dissatisfaction with the way
the candidates discussed issues (Taylor 1990: 7). Responsibility for issue-selection lays
significantly with the candidates, but as presented throughout this thesis, a candidate who
fails to conform to media requirements by providing dramatic visuals and simple messages
is hard pressed to maintain control over the selection of issues. Data are mixed on how
much autonomy the public has in determining what is important in a campaign, given the
media's ability to either elevate or suppress issues. The original study on the media's
agenda-setting capacities demonstrated that "If the media tell us nothing about a topic or
event, then in most cases it simply will not exist on our personal agendas [W]e judge as
important what the media judge important. The media's priorities become our own" (Shaw
and-McCombs 99). More recent scholarly material gives weight to the press's influence in
determining not only what the public thinks about, but how (cited in Entrnan 75-77). The
logic of these recent arguments is that if the media possess the power to keep the public's
consciousness alerted to some issues and not others, this in and of itself influences how the
public thinks, though the degree of influence is difficult to prove and is beyond the
parameters of this thesis. An example of the press's agenda-setting function in 1988 was

its use of polls based on questions and issues raised by strategists. Wflmes

127
pollster I.A. Lewis stated: "Instead of testing the public's opinion, the public polls tested

the assertions of their manipulators the media polls detected what they themselves had
publicized" (Lavrakas and Holley 61).

This thesis does not attempt to prove the degree of influence that the press have, but it
does contain evidence to Show how four prestige paper --organizations with agenda-setting
influence within the sphere of national politics--helped to construct priorities, or the
"realities," of the campaign. The priorities were set by variables tending to favor the
candidate who maneuvered most adroitly through deeply-entrenched media routines, rather
than the candidate who may have attempted to create a political dialogue about competing
social needs. Many critics of the 1988 campaign contend that the Republican campaign
"manipulated," the media, usurping media routines to its own ends. One of the purposes
of this thesis has been to show that the national print media had it in their power to shape
their campaign coverage independent of these "manipulative" efforts, yet failed to do so.

A media routines critique might argue that that failure rests in the organizational
mechanisms that confine the press's options. The press's reliance on polls--more
pronounced in 1988 than any presidential election year before--appeared to handcuff it the
most. The press's readings of the polls suggesting Bush's constant lead seemed to obviate
against the possibility of pushing forward independent of the public's apparent will.
However, signs of discontent over the conduct of the campaign emanating from the polls
could have persuaded the press to assert itself against the image-driven campaign. In the
end, the press cautiously read the components of the polls suggesting a desire for change,
opting to base its more assured outlook on Bush's soft but consistent lead.

Another distinguishing feature of the press's seemingly limited function in the 1988
campaign was a factor related to poll watching, their devotion to the views of strategists.
The press maintained what it believed to be a value-free, "objective" stance while exercising
what were viewed to be acceptable interpretive energies, albeit through others' lenses. The

value-free component of this routine, however, is illusory. When strategy is the guiding

128
principle that defines a candidate, the press extrapolates a good candidate from effective

strategy, intrinsically a value-laden judgment There is also negative value in the
marginalization of issues: Space and emphasis given to su'ategic analysis is space taken
away from policy analysis.

In W, a book on television coverage of presidential campaigns from 1960 to
1988, Kathleen Hall Jarnieson concludes that a focus on strategy is "cynical" because "it
minimizes the disposition of the press to elicit or the viewer to discern the important
differences the candidates would bring to the process of governance." A strategy "schema"
existed in the 1988 campaign, a "script" or "story form" through which "reporters,
scholars, and occasionally politicians most often invite us to view political elections:

In the strategy schema, candidates do not address problems with solutions but
'issues' with 'strategies.’ The language of the strategy schema is that of sports and
war. The vocabulary lets reporters, candidates, and the public ask, who is winning
and how? The posture invited of the electorate by this schema is cynical and
detached (Jamieson 165-167).

Could the press have exercised more independent judgment in the 1988 campaign, or
were they bound by the dictates of polls and pundits? Did abiding by these self-regulating
routines lock the press into a path that led inevitably to the brambles of 198 8? The national
press--at least the four newspapers under study in this thesis--often appeared to be acting as
a single organism, embracing the same pool of sources, methods of analysis, and
conventional wisdoms that rejected the coverage of key issues. This is described by
routines theorists as "pack" journalism, regarded as unavoidable given competitive
pressures. Even if the argument was accepted as plausible that the press's methods were
set in stone, however, the press had available to it within the same coverage rules--from
poll findings, from different elite sources--altemative critiques. The four newspapers
rarely provided what can be defined as popular alternative deductions--in the sense of
laying grounds for a competing perceptual environment, i.e., that Dukakis indeed was

returning Bush's fire, or that Dukakis's commitment to social policy-making possibly

represented compassion; or that the public actually did have concerns about the economy.

 

129
These deductions and others were readily available to a press willing to look beyond the

prevailing modes of analysis. Pressure for a more substantive campaign could have arisen

from a public exposed to different coverage.
DID: .3 HUI aiiulb O 01 Cir. 05 {and truth?

The four newspapers in this study displayed consistent, repeated and systemic
distortions that are difficult to view as accidental, or as mere results of news production
imperatives. Given the broad array of choices available to it and the relatively narrow range
of selectivity they chose to follow, the press's actions in 1988 might have revealed an
ideological undertow to the conditions under which it worked. One test of media ideology
is the degree to which the press evades readily available disconcerting political information,
evidenced throughout this thesis. Proof for a claim of ideology also would have to be
registered in a much broader analysis of political conditions leading into the 1988 I
campaign. Hertsgaard (QnBendetLKnm) and Palentz and Entrnan (Mediafiomerfiemies),
provide substantial evidence indicating that the most prominent national media
organizations-the Newlorklimes. Washingtonian. LesAngeleinmes. Time and
Nemsmeek magazines and three networks, CBS, NBC, and ABC--contributed to the
creation and perpetuation of a conservative political climate from the mid-70$ through
Reagan's administration, setting in place the mechanisms by which Bush would profit in
1988.

Entrnan asserts that, between 1975 and 1978, the media "converged on the theme" of a
popular political "lunge to the right " The media's perception of a conservative trend grew
in spite of evidence showing the opposite, Entrnan found. The policy preferences of the
public in polls taken between 1968 to 1977 showed strong approval of "liberal government
activism." Two-thirds of the public held consistently positive views toward programs that

would help pay medical costs, guarantee jobs for all, achieve job and housing opportunities

130
for blacks, and enforce safety standard for factories. The polled public also showed a

"strong trend of disenchantment with the behavior of private enterprise" (Palentz and
Entrnan 198-199).

Still, leading news organizations such as the Wmes and the flashingmn
£er interpreted other signs, such as favor toward the military and antipathy toward
bureaucracy (private and public), as the more salient indicators of the period. As the theme
of the surging conservative mood grew, "journalists may have perceived spokespersons on
the left as irrelevent or naive. As these delegitimized sources were consulted less
frequently, liberal proposals and interpretations received less coverage, and those on the
right received greater emphasis" (Palentz and Entrnan 201).

Hertsgaard contends a transformation of news standards took place among news
organizations in the 19803. Washingtenfiest executive editor Ben Bradlee called it a return
to "deference" (1988: 101). The shift grew out of a retrenching and gun-shy press after
Vietnam and Watergate, in the midst of perceived change in outlook on classical liberal
ideology. Key Reagan advisers constructed a propaganda or "public relations apparatus"
that would control "what America saw and heard of Reagan on TV." The apparatus was
"explicitly designed to insulate the President from serious scrutiny on the part of the press.
..." Reagan's reelection in 1984 could be in no small part be attributed to that insulation:
Reagan made no appearances in front of the press from July 19 until after the November
election. The fact that Democratic challenger Walter Mondale was far more accessible led to
a problem of imbalance that reporters did not address. The press, as happened in 1988,
was often able to focus on what it wanted in covering Mondale, because, as ABC
correspondent Brit Hume said, "he was available to talk about whatever we wanted.
Reagan, on the other hand, was not available, so the press tended to talk about whatever he
was talking about. " How two standards came to stand unchallenged may best be explained
by Michael Deaver, one of Reagan's key technical experts in the public relations apparatus:

"Our backdrops were always terrific, there was always a new gimmick even though it was

 

   

131
the same Speech. And so the press came to realize it was a very well oiled machine, and

they respected that" NBC News President Laurence Grossman agreed: "It says something
about the kind of President he'd [have] been. If you don't pay attention to people who are
telling you you've got to learn how to use TV, you should get some training, some
coaching, you should improve yourself, then maybe [when] he tells you there's a bomb
coming over in the middle of the night, what kind of reaction do you have?" (Hertsgaard
May 1988).

The use of the press was a vital element to the success of the public relations apparatus,
contended Hertsgaard, who wrote that "it was one of Communication Director David
Gergen's guiding assumptions that effective governance was not possible unless it could
'get the right story out' through the 'filter' of the press" (1988: 5). Gergen said:

the press in general was wonied as Reagan came into office that they had been an
unwitting participant in the destruction or downfall of at least two Presidents, and
they felt that the public was not sympathetic to their role. They were worried about
losing viewers, losing audience, losing public support... That was working in
Reagan's favor coming in, and it wasn't hard to fan those flames from within the
White House (qtd. in Hertsgaard 1988: 171)
Gergen admitted it was his communications staff that saw to it that the sympathetic mood
toward Reagan be translated into an embrace of not-so-popular policies. "The whole
theory going in was, if we go to the country and just try to sell conservatism straight up,
it's not going to work," said Gergen. "You don't have the kind of [political] base in the ‘
country to do that. The point was, if Reagan can be successful, and Show that he is
effective, people would come to believe in Reagan. And as they believe in Reagan, they
would evenutally come to agree with him on issues, and see him as sensible, and
eventually his philOSOphy would have a lot more impact" (Hertsgaard 1988: 107).

Hertsgaard suggests that the press's coverage of the Iran-Contra scandal was indicative
of the media's timidity: They came to it late, left it too soon, and failed to "convey its full
significance along the way." Wm Managing Editor A.M. Rosenthal's

explanation of his paper's coverage summed up Hertsgaard's view of why the press failed

in its Iran-Contra coverage, and more broadly, its coverage of the White House during

 

132
Reagan's terms: "For a paper with the resources and intelligence of the W,

there are no excuses. The only things there are, are values--what we think it's important to
do" (Hertsgaard 1988: 341-342).

Showing that Bush benefited from a perceived conservative climate does not alone
prove ideology. A sound argument could be made to suggest that journalists were merely
following what they thought were the dictates of the public. But an ideology critique looks
beyond the work of individuals, and even individual organizations. Arr ideology critique
asks what institutional and cultural mechanisms for the creation of political discourse were
in place and why? The parameters of this thesis provided answers to the first part of the

question. It would take another volume to answer the second part, Why?

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