The Campaign of Labels

Presidential campaigns always seem to focus on labels.

Maybe that's because, being so advertising-oriented, campaigns want to zero in on a characteristic that symbolizes a group that needs to be persuaded. "Generation gap," "soccer moms," whatever the buzzword or catchphrase is, it helps a campaign staff formulate its all-important message -- and the target audience for that message.

In a presidential campaign featuring a woman and a black man as the remaining combatants in the battle for the Democratic nomination, labels are, perhaps, more important than ever -- for the voters as well as the participants. And, no matter who the survivor turns out to be, labels are likely to remain more important than they've ever been.

It's an unavoidable by-product of the campaign.

In the New York Times, Gail Collins says it's white guys' turn. "Courting them is extremely tricky," Collins observes. "It’s not like you can promise that, under your presidency, more white men would be appointed to the Supreme Court."

Of course, what politicians really like to appeal to is whatever the voters fear -- and how they are better equipped to face it than their opponents.

And that may have something to do with the tone of the campaign -- and what Collins says about white males being the new target demographic. "Maybe Hillary’s blunder about being under sniper fire in Bosnia was just an attempt to make contact with a group that feels somewhat under siege," she writes.

Four years ago, the Bush-Cheney ticket held on to power by appealing to the fear of terrorism and the fear of re-living the experience of Sept. 11, 2001 -- while raising fears about what John Kerry might do as president. Twenty years ago, Bush's father won the presidency in part because his advertising capitalized on racial fear with its infamous "Willie Horton" commercial.

Even in a speech that was marketed as an attempt to help people get over their fears, Barack Obama's speech on racism and his remarks afterward reminded people of fear. Obama said his white grandmother was a "typical white person" because of her fear of unknown black men.

Fear can be an effective thing. But it carries a high price.

This weekend, I've been watching the Star Wars trilogy of the last eight years on cable. I was watching "Star Wars I -- The Phantom Menace" last night, and there was a bit of dialogue that struck me.

A much-younger Yoda counseled a very young Anakin Skywalker about his fear of losing his mother. "Fear leads to anger," Yoda says. "Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering." Then, after a brief pause, Yoda continues, "I sense much fear in you."

Fear seems to be relevant to all voters these days -- just as it was 75 years ago, when Franklin D. Roosevelt told the nation, "We have nothing to fear but fear itself." Fear certainly contributed to a lot of suffering in the 1930s, but there were plenty of things to be afraid of during the Great Depression.

Fear is legitimate. Everyone fears things. Fears may differ by age, gender, race, religion, income -- but fear is universal.

And so is the desire to be reassured.

Is it any wonder, then, that one of the most successful political campaign commercials of all time, Ronald Reagan's "Morning in America" commercial from his re-election campaign of 1984, did not play on fear? It made its points as effectively as fear commercials, but it was soothing and it wasn't confrontational.

By the way, the ad man who wrote and narrated that commercial (and Reagan's other advertisement from 1984, the foreign policy-oriented "bear in the woods" commercial), Hal Riney, died on March 24 at the age of 75.

With sky-rocketing gas prices, which have led to higher prices for everything, and the gnawing concern that has grown over the last five years that irrational fear led America to launch its invasion of Iraq and consequently turn that land into a haven for terrorists, one doesn't have to be Yoda to "sense much fear" in the American public today.

Maybe Mark Steyn is right. In the Orange County Register, he says that Hillary Clinton, whose claim to presidential political fame seems to have been reduced lately to the 3 a.m. phone call, a hail of sniper fire and owning her own bowling ball, is running out of options and time.

Of course, Orange County doesn't have a reputation for being hospitable to Democrats. And, for that matter, California has already held its presidential primaries. Clinton's attention these days is aimed -- as is Obama's -- on voters on the other side of the continent. And voting trends for the last two decades suggest that California will vote for the Democrat in November, anyway.

So, what Steyn says isn't necessarily relevant to the decision facing voters in Pennsylvania.

Or is it?