Editorial: TV debates: for and against

Amidst the general election season turmoil a lot of attention has recently focused on the issue of whether and how to hold televised presidential debates.

A consortium of news media planned to host debates among all five candidates. However, this week the representatives of Lien Chan's (連戰) campaign pulled out of the negotiations, unleashing a torrent of criticism that Lien's refusal was "anti-democratic."

Most foreign observers might be forgiven for a little puzzlement at all the fuss, since televised candidates' debates are an almost uniquely American phenomenon. The presumption that they are somehow necessary indicates that many in Taiwan unduly equate American-style politics with democracy.

The debates in question should not be confused with the platform presentations mandated and sponsored by the Central Election Commission, the first of which will be held tonight. In those events, each registered candidate will be given time to make policy speeches, with no question-and-answer period. They are simply a well-intentioned -- but probably vain, considering the way Taiwan's political environment has evolved -- effort to offer all candidates an opportunity to have equal access to the media.

The experience of the US is instructive. There, the quality and content of debates has steadily deteriorated, in direct proportion to the importance of television. Nobody hopes that contemporary debates will rise even to the level of the 1960 Nixon-Kennedy debates, much less to the epic Lincoln-Douglas contest a century earlier. On the contrary, they have degenerated into elaborately staged pieces of political theater, where style is emphasized over substance. In Taiwan's already television-saturated public arena, one can well imagine the same result.

Part of the reason for the slide in the US debates is that they are the product of negotiations among the various campaigns; since each naturally refuses any format disadvantageous to its candidate, the content inevitably falls to the lowest common denominator. This jockeying is what we are now witnessing among our own candidates. Lien's camp, in particular, appears to be stalling out of concern that his performance could hurt him.

It is true that debates tend to favor challengers over incumbents since the former can enhance their prestige by appearing as equals with the latter. It is precisely for this reason that President Lee Teng-hui (李登輝) refused to debate his three challengers in 1996.

However, there is a democratic argument that, since the incumbents have so many other built-in advantages, it is only sporting to cede this one to the challengers.

Lien's managers are especially concerned by the prospect of sharing a stage on an equal status with the other candidates, especially with the two minor candidates.

This objection is well supported by precedent from the US, where debate organizers never invite all the candidates (and there are often 20 or more), but stick to the two major parties, occasionally including an exceptionally strong independent, such as Ross Perot in 1992 (whose poll numbers were comparable to Lien's current ones). There would thus seem to be a case for a three-way format.

But what would a debate give to the voters?

It would undoubtedly be exciting: the simple fact of these men, who normally scrupulously avoid each other, appearing in the same room would guarantee that. It is also just possible, if the format were designed carefully, that such an event could perform a vital function by helping voters differentiate the various platforms, which on many key issues have been so ambiguously crafted as to be nearly indistinguishable.