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Mike & Asa, Reloaded (Blake Rutherford On Politics)

5 min read

(Editor’s Note: This is an opinion column.)

Setting aside the generic imbalance between Republicans and Democrats, is it at all surprising that Asa Hutchinson is doing as well as he is — the way that he is — in the race for governor?

At the onset of the race, the suspicion — conveyed to me primarily by Republicans — was that Hutchinson’s intangibles were a hindrance. To be sure, Hutchinson had the advantage of being from northwest Arkansas where Republicans substantially outnumber Democrats and where, with depressed Democratic turnout elsewhere, the outcome of this election could certainly be decided. He also had the advantage of a generally gloomy national political climate for the Democrats, something unavailable to him before.

Still, the concern was real and based substantially on a reaction to the 2006 contest where, despite Hutchinson’s regional advantage and the presence of a Republican ally in the White House, his chilly, rigid exterior put him at odds with voters. If the same Hutchinson showed up this year, he would lose again, albeit by a lot less than the 15 percentage points by which he lost to Mike Beebe. And it made sense. 

To my surprise, however, things are noticeably different eight years later. Unlike 2006, Hutchinson has presented himself as warm and amiable, particularly on television. Hutchinson more than made up for a lack of substance on key issues with conveyance and connectivity. In the first gubernatorial debate, for example, he appeared relaxed and jovial: Grandpa Joe meets Grant Matthews. Through his television commercials he articulated his biography and platform with fidelity, not to the minds who believe that the only way to win is through negative messaging, but to Don Draper and his essential maxim: “Advertising is based on one thing, happiness.” [1]

This change, which might have otherwise felt inauthentic but for the passage of time, was also necessary when we also consider the matter stylistically. Mike Ross, the Democratic nominee, appeared to embody many of the same attributes as Beebe with one important addition: Ross had won a difficult race over a Republican incumbent. His victory over incumbent House Republican Jay Dickey in 2000 remains one of the best examples of how Democrats can win in a climate less than suitable for their party (George W. Bush won Arkansas that year). Those attributes — centrism, a methodical approach to campaigning, lack of pretention and an affable demeanor — were all components of an inviting, attractive and, most importantly, complete political persona.  

But in the first debate, Ross presented something quite different: an uncomfortable affect, fewer smiles coupled with a forceful tone and a surprisingly snarky sensibility that was, at important moments, off-putting. Early in that debate it was clear that, like Beebe before him, Ross had a clear command of the issues. But because he lacked Beebe’s deftness, the articulation of that command felt forced, like someone annoyed that they had to try so hard to prove a point.

Ross paid a political price for it. Republicans labeled him as “angry” across Twitter, and that sentiment seeped out into the mainstream. While technically inaccurate, it was effective: It provided voters with contrast. More than any label, however, the inference implied that there was a disconnection between Ross and the voters, particularly on television. As is often in the course of a campaign, perception has an easy way of becoming reality.  

Tuesday night, the two candidates participated in another debate on the campus of the University of Arkansas at Little Rock. Ross was aggressive — not a criticism, mind you; he has trailed in 12 of the last 13 non-partisan polls since April — and was unable to find a rhythm. Hutchinson, meanwhile, adopted the genial and relaxed disposition of a front-runner. He offered a number of compelling statements, the most politically pointed coming on a question about gun control after Ross had spoken at length about his 2nd Amendment bona fides. 

But to me the emblematic moment came at the end, when Ross let loose with a series of contrived laughs that, reminiscent of Al Gore’s labored sighs in the first presidential debate in 2000, inferred condescension towards his opponent and frustration with how the night – and perhaps the campaign – had gone.  

As the final chapter of this race is being written, two narratives are beginning to form.

The first has to do with what I’ll describe as the art of reinvention, which often defines political campaigns and surprises us all. This year there is no better example of the ability to reinvent than Asa Hutchinson. He has shed all the negative attributes evident in the 2006 race and, benefitting from the passage of time out of the political spotlight, has offered a compelling and effective reintroduction to political life.

The second is the difficulty Ross has had presenting himself well on television, which has hampered his ability to present his case with clarity and sincerity.

Gone, too, is that je ne sais quoi that was present in Ross’ victory over Dickey in 2000 and propelled his political rise. In that race, Ross was capable of standing on his own. In this race, Ross too often leans on the Beebe legacy as a crutch, as if the political goodwill Beebe generated from eight years of indisputable competence is his only stabilizing force — the “secure turf of the known past,” as the late Christopher Hitchens might have described it.

Republicans are enthusiastic about their prospects in this race, and from the polls and the debates thus far, it is a rational sentiment. Still, with another debate on the horizon and three more weeks of campaigning to be done, Ross is hardly out of it. The question his campaign must consider in the context of these developing narratives and in the time remaining, however, is whether staying the course is the sensible thing to do.    

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[1] It was smart strategy, particularly considering the tenor of the U.S. Senate race between Sen. Mark Pryor and U.S. Rep. Tom Cotton. Nationally, for example, an analysis by the Weslyan Media Project found that 55 percent of ads airing in Senate races across the United States were negative.

(Blake Rutherford is vice president of The McLarty Companies and previously was chief of staff to the Arkansas attorney general. You can follow him on Twitter at BlakeRutherford. His opinion column appears every other Wednesday in the weekly Government & Politics e-newsletter. You can subscribe for free here.)

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