A Long, Strange Journey
The race was tight because the runners were so alike
In America, anyone can become president. That's one of the risks we take. When Adlai Stevenson expressed that sentiment decades ago, he was being sardonic. Today, that comment looks like popular wisdom. Why was this the closest election in American history? Not because the candidates were so different, but because they were so similar. In modern times, similar candidates with similar goals market themselves to the American people in similar ways. Close elections usually signify a great divide over a key issue or crisis. Not this one. There is surely a split in the votes of men and women, marrieds and singles, whites and blacks--but outside of Washington, D.C., it may not matter very much. "If anything, this is a testament to the social stability of the United States as it enters the 21st century; I don't see a great social divide ripping this country apart," says presidential historian Gil Troy. "It also signifies the growing irrelevance of politics to the lives of many people."
Americans may be forgiven if they appeared to apportion their votes by a coin flip. When you can turn on your TV set and see the two candidates being warm, fuzzy, and winsome with Oprah or Letterman or Leno, it's hard to see much difference between them or draw any political lessons from their performances. It's not that George W. Bush and Al Gore are identical or without ideologies or have the same view of government. But as they ran for president they relentlessly downplayed their ideologies in a mad dash to the center of the American political spectrum. And they did it for the same reason that Willie Sutton robbed banks: That's where the payoff is.
It is 12:46 a.m. on Election Day and a brilliant half-moon hangs over Miami as if it had been cut from yellow construction paper and pasted on a black satin sky. A warm breeze with the iodine smell of the ocean blows over the sand dunes and ruffles the hair of Al Gore. He has gone without sleep for more than 24 hours now, but he cannot rest. "Be not weary in well-doing," he told the parishioners of the New Jerusalem Gospel Church in Flint, Mich., a few hours before, quoting the Apostle Paul. "You shall reap if you faint not." Gore is fainting not. Gore knows Florida will make or break him. As do the celebrities on the stage behind him: Stevie Wonder, Ben Affleck, Glenn Close, Robert De Niro, and Jon Bon Jovi, among others. Gore and his press corps walk over the sand, ignoring the boxes of multicolored flip-flops that have been provided for their convenience. They are too tired to take off their shoes and socks anyway. Ben Affleck, wearing an unbuttoned blue shirt over a white T-shirt, is speaking to the huge crowd. Klieg lights make sand glow an intense white. Behind the stage, you can see boats cruising slowly by with lights in their rigging. "George Bush is a nice guy, but I've got friends like that and I would never lend them my car, let alone vote for them!" Affleck says, reading off a notecard. A woman in a black tube top, gold pants, and a bare midriff with a diamond navel ring dances in the rear of the crowd. "I've been in a working family and now I'm in another tax bracket," Affleck says, "and I'm here to tell Governor Bush, `Thanks, but we don't need the money.' George Bush is asleep right now and Al Gore hasn't gotten started yet!"
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