America's Dubious Export

By WALTER SHAPIRO

The historical counterpoint is perfect: 50 years almost to the day after Nazi tanks roared across the border into Poland, that long-suffering nation has given birth to a freely elected, non-Communist government. No metaphor better symbolizes the triumph of democracy over totalitarianism. Even the horrific memory of the bloodstains in Tiananmen Square cannot eradicate the impression that most of the world is emulating the Western form of government -- or wants to desperately, even to the point of death. Not only the Communist bloc is awash in democratic ferment; nine Latin American nations have held or are scheduled to hold free elections in 1989. For the first time in memory, there is reason to hope that the doddering Communist Party boss in his shapeless dark suit may be as much an anachronism as the strutting military strongman with his chestful of ersatz ribbons.

Amid such a global transformation, it is only natural for Americans to feel proud and perhaps even a trifle smug. After all, hotly contested democratic elections are as American as, well, campaign consultants, TV sound bites and 30-second spots. That, alas, is precisely the problem. For lost in the euphoria over this upsurge of freedom are some impolitic questions about America's own role in fostering free elections abroad. Democracy is indisputably good for the world, but are U.S.-style campaign techniques necessarily good for democracy? Should Americans feel elated if election campaigns from Manila to Moscow become as vacuous as the contest between George Bush and Michael Dukakis?

These unfortunately are not abstract questions. For just as it was in 1940 when Franklin Roosevelt coined the phrase, the U.S. remains the world's "arsenal of democracy." But these days, rather than sending bundles and battleships to Britain, America is aggressively exporting political technology and campaign expertise. Whether it is bringing exit polls to the Soviet Union or the first negative spots to Argentine TV, Americans are there -- on the ramparts of freedom -- trying to turn the world into one vast Super Tuesday primary.

This is one high-tech arena where the Japanese and the West Europeans still cannot compete: America leads the world in the sophisticated techniques of manipulating voters in free elections. The "booming market abroad for U.S. campaign operatives" was the subject of a recent cover story in the political-industry trade journal Campaigns & Elections. As the magazine enthused, "State-of-the-art television commercials and computerized voter files are spreading rapidly to other countries. American research firms are conducting focus groups for politicians worldwide." Like old-time vaudeville acts playing the Orpheum circuit, most of the top consultants have popped up somewhere in Latin America (primarily Venezuela, Costa Rica, El Salvador, Argentina and Bolivia) since the U.S. elections last November.

In this world of the endless campaign, pretty soon no candidate anywhere will ever again risk uttering an impromptu thought in public. For a hefty fee, U.S. advisers will market-test every word and gesture to achieve the proper level of dynamic blandness. And since media consultants tend to recycle endlessly any technique that works, it is easy to envision future political spots that begin, "It's morning again in Poland." But equally disturbing is the way that during the 1980s, the political handlers have wrung the last droplets of spontaneity out of U.S. politics, as passion and ideology have become increasingly suspect. Perhaps the U.S. can survive irrelevant politics and low-turnout elections. But fledgling democracies cannot afford such decadent luxuries.

In their off-year forays abroad, American consultants are largely motivated by avarice, arrogance and adventure. Perhaps their most high-minded justification is the contention that teaching the effective use of TV allows democratic leaders to communicate with the voters and mobilize political support. But this brings to mind the old joke about the small-town attorney who was going broke until another lawyer showed up, and they both got rich suing each other. Similarly, one media adviser in a foreign country may be a boon for democracy, but bring in a rival and you create that lucrative state known as consultant gridlock. Before long the airwaves will be dominated by dueling commercials, each more shrill and negative than the last, until foreign elections pivot on the local equivalents of Willie Horton and the Pledge of Allegiance.

Such private political meddling abroad is not without foreign policy implications. There is the real risk that consultants will naively misjudge a foreign leader's commitment to democracy. Joseph Napolitan, one of the pioneering global political operatives, helped mastermind Ferdinand Marcos' 1969 re-election campaign in the Philippines. As Napolitan gushed in his 1972 memoir, "((Marcos)) is bright, knowledgeable, handsome, charismatic -- the kind of candidate you like to work with." At least Napolitan had the belated good taste to turn down the Marcos account in 1986. Instead, the aging dictator's last hurrah was handled by Black, Manafort, Stone & Kelly, a firm established in the afterglow of helping elect Ronald Reagan in 1980. This created a bizarre situation in which the Reagan Administration was overtly backing Cory Aquino (managed by Sawyer Miller, a Democratic firm) while some of the President's own political handlers were trying to prop up Marcos.

Over the years, American popular opinion has recoiled at revelations that the CIA, beginning with Italy in the late 1940s, has manipulated foreign elections. But in the laissez-faire 1980s, no one seems to notice or care that almost all of the U.S.'s leading political consultants are now doing roughly the same thing for fun and profit. Either way, U.S. intervention may undermine the very democratic values the nation so loudly proclaims. Maybe that old American truism should be amended to read "Politics -- and political consultants -- should stop at the water's edge."