The last round of Sunday chatter before Tuesday's elections--much like the home stretch of the campaigns themselves--saw the two parties scrambling for very little available yardage. There was no propulsive, breakout issue--not the sclerotic economy, not homeland security, not war in Iraq--up for discussion. Instead, attention turned to the large number of deadlocked races, each one of which is crucial in a 50-49 Senate and an almost equally split House. In this context, the overwhelming consensus, as Juan Williams put it on "Fox News Sunday," was that the election will come down to "turnout, turnout, turnout."
Smarting from poor mobilization efforts in 1998 and 2000, the GOP is pumping $25 million into get-out-the-vote (GOTV) operations nationwide, which the Democrats are countering with a $15 million drive, supported by an additional $20 million of AFL-CIO muscle. But if the performance of the GOP's spinners was any indication, the party has yet to learn that turnout is as much about energy and stamina as it is about money.
Case in point: Republican National Committee Chairman Marc Racicot's "Meet The Press" face off with his opposite number, Terry McAuliffe. As his party's top functionary, Racicot's only mission was to project confidence and enthusiasm, stiffening the resolve of the GOTV operatives and party loyalists watching his performance. He couldn't have done worse. Slumped down in his chair, sinking into his suit, Racicot appeared detached and lifeless alongside McAuliffe, whose bulging eyes, and compulsive hand-gesturing gave him a kind of caffeinated-stereo-salesman demeanor.
Racicot rambled off message repeatedly, fielding a question about the propriety of Bush's wartime campaigning by saying, bizarrely, that "life continues to unfold, as it will." While McAuliffe brimmed with confidence about his "great candidates," Racicot undercut his own projections of victory by declining to make what he called "extravagant promises" of House pickups. Racicot's low point came when Tim Russert challenged both chairmen to donate $1,000 to the Washington D.C. Boys and Girls Club for every botched prediction. McAuliffe instinctively accepted the challenge. The Republican chairman didn't even answer Russert, as if he couldn't believe the host was serious. After some prodding, Racicot--whose party enjoys an enormous fund-raising advantage--meekly allowed, "I will if you'll lend me the money, Tim." It was hardly the most confidence-inspiring message.
Similarly damaging to Republican morale was the furious hedging by Bush adviser Karen Hughes on "This Week." Bush's frenetic campaign schedule represents a large piece of the Republican turnout efforts, as the party hopes to translate his still-astronomical approval ratings into House, Senate, and gubernatorial victories. In that respect, part of the Republican strategy hinges on the president's ability to generate coattails--to "elect people willing to work with him in Washington, D.C.," as Hughes explained it to George Stephanopoulos.
But the likely outcome of Tuesday's election is little net change. And so the president's advisers, worried that an unimpressive Republican showing could expose their boss's polls numbers as hollow (especially if hand-picked candidates lose their tight contests in Minnesota and South Dakota), have played down his campaign role when talking to reporters. Hughes claimed only that Bush had "created a great environment for our candidates to run in," and she repeated the mantra that Bush "himself is not on the ballot"--a point so obvious and trivial it misleads more than it clarifies.
Democrats, by contrast, used their televised perch to excite party activists. McAuliffe practically swaggered in front of Racicot and Russert, confidently asserting up to three Senate pickups. And though the Democratic chairman has been criticized for being overly bullish at times, his willingness to put his money where his mouth was--and McAuliffe has a lot of both--seemed capable of creating a self-fulfilling prophesy. True, McAuliffe's own job could be imperiled if too many of his predictions fall flat. But there isn't much of a downside for the party as a whole.
Likewise for Dick Gephardt. The House Minority Leader spoke with Stephanopoulos from his Missouri campaign headquarters, where behind him cameras captured a teeming staff answering more phones than a Jerry Lewis Telethon. When Stephanopoulos asked Gephardt about his summer prediction of 30 to 40 Democratic House pickups, Gephardt refused to back down, suggesting that "what I actually said is we could pick up 30 to 40 seats, and we still don't know." Sure, the claim is ludicrous. But it may turn out to be an inspired motivational tactic. And coming from a man who knows a thing or two about motivating his troops--Gephardt has presided over three straight election cycles worth of House Democratic gains--viewers could be forgiven if they decided to wait a few days before passing judgment.