Who needs platforms? We have heroes

Think-tank floaters, political journalists, professors of government and party-core foot soldiers somehow feel that a candidate should have policies. He (or she, but come on, it's usually a he) should have a platform, even an ideology. Otherwise, no intelligent, well-informed citizen will vote for him.

Thing is, this is demonstrably untrue. Arnold Schwarzenegger, the well-known thespian, is now governor-elect of the most populous state in the nation. His campaign was almost entirely innocent of ideas. He scatters platitudes like bullets in a B-movie. He is for lower taxes and a "strong economy." No doubt he's for motherhood, the flag and apple streudel, too.

But - and this is what matters - while he doesn't have much of a plan, Schwarzenegger has an image: square-jawed, no nonsense, mega-masculine. Wesley Clark must be feeling encouraged. But more about the general in a minute.

Despite the way the pundits purport to be shocked - shocked! - that Californians chose an Austrian bodybuilder most famous for playing a monomaniacal robot on screen, it's not such a big surprise, is it? America has been moving toward persona-driven, content-free politics for some time. In the 2000 presidential campaign, Al Gore had a platform. He had policies. He did his homework on everything from greenhouse gases to Argentinian fiscal policy. His reward was to be sneered at as a wonk, a geek and a bore. On the other hand, the party-hardy cheerleader George W. Bush was blissfully unencumbered by specifics. He allowed as he wouldn't mess around in foreign parts and said he'd restore "integrity" to the White House. After three years in office, of course, George W. Bush has been forced to have some ideas. It's just that they're really bad ideas. Like sabotaging 30 years of environmental protection. Cutting taxes for the rich. Undermining civil liberties. And launching pre-emptive strikes against nations we don't like. You can see why most of the Democrats hoping to park their own backsides in the Oval Office think they have to counter all these bad ideas in exquisite detail, concocting minutely particularized position papers on air quality standards and nuclear proliferation, presenting a growth plan calculated to the 99th decimal and learning all the words to We Shall Overcome. Well, wonkery impresses the party faithful as they study whom to embrace in the primaries, but it won't win a general election. The war in Iraq (not to mention in Afghanistan) is shambolic; the alleged economic recovery doesn't include jobs; Saddam Hussein and Osama bin Laden are still out there. Nonetheless, pictures of George W. Bush in a flight suit, displaying what G. Gordon Liddy memorably referred to as "his manly characteristic," whips the tar out of (pick one) Gephardt, Brown, Kerry, Dean, Edwards, Kucinich, Lieberman or Sharpton posing by a tractor in Iowa. It may not be a credit to a mature democracy, but it's 21st century persona politics and it plays well with citizens who have neither the time nor the inclination to think more than one step beyond the image.

So on to Wesley Clark, emphasis on the "General." A decorated veteran of the Vietnam War. A telegenic veteran (raising his national profile big-time, the slyboots) of CNN's Iraq war coverage. Square-jawed, no nonsense, mega-masculine. Like Schwarzenegger, Clark steers clear of potentially derailing details. He has himself photographed in front of misty star-spangled banners bearing slogans like "New American Patriotism" and tries to hedge - charmingly - on tax cuts, support for the invasion of Iraq, whatever. And while there are reports that Clark said admiring things about Richard Nixon, no one has, as yet, accused him of copping a feel.

Still, along with Schwarzenegger and Howard Dean, Clark gets his push from direct democracy, the political fad du jour, feeding off the Internet, the purest vehicle for persona politics. Two of the three have never been elected to anything (president of the sophomore class doesn't count). Except for Schwarzenegger, whose Planet Hollywood restaurant (worst burgers on two continents) went belly up, they are short on business experience. Their ideological boundaries are, to put it mildly, fluid: Schwarzenegger espouses most of the Democrats' social issues, Dean can sound like a pre-Newt Republican, Clark seems to have only decided to join the party of social justice five minutes ago.

The movie star, the preppie Yankee governor and the former Supreme Allied Commander do not come dragging traditional political constituencies. Instead, they resonate in the popular culture, morphing into heroes - what George W. was trying to do with his Top Gun aircraft carrier landing. Schwarzenegger reprises his role of Terminator. Dean taps into the blue state wish that The West Wing was for real. And Clark is a central casting dream: brave soldier, clever Rhodes Scholar, courtly Southerner, bearer of perfect posture and good teeth.

A lot of voters believe that an archetype can solve problems that a regular old politico can't. This is magical thinking, but it's powerful. In bad times - and these are bad times, what with terrorism, deficits, unemployment - people don't want reality, they want fantasy, a hero in a leather loincloth, a hero with a stethoscope, or a hero in uniform.

- Diane Roberts, a former Times editorial writer, is a professor of English at the University of Alabama.

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