The Bloody Sympathy Swing Voters

It was an contest whose outcome seemed pre-ordained. The electorate was heavily divided, but no serious bookmaker thought it would be much of a contest. The odds were too skewed from the outset. When the dark horse candidate won by a margin small enough to be considered a statistical anomaly, the vanquished side refused to concede defeat; it's supporters took to the street in great numbers, crying fraud and demanding a recount. The surprised victors, knowing that they would be governing without even the appearance of a mandate, made conciliatory noises and feigned humility, all the while working furiously to ensure that their victory would be sealed in concrete. As supporters from both sides faced off in the tropical heat of ground zero, it felt as if the slightest spark could set off an explosion, shaking the country's democracy to its very core.

America, 2000? No. Taiwan, 2004. Future historians might well write that in the Taiwan election of 2004, this enthusiastic (if somewhat over eager) pupil of democracy took the lessons of the world's most zealous exporter of this nebulous dog-and-pony show form of government just a bit too far. As politically interested Americans looking forward to our own upcoming bitter electoral battle, we might wonder if the two men vying to be crowned emperor in 2004 might not wind up taking strategy notes from a most diligent student. But before we do that, we need to look again briefly across the Pacific.

It's the day before the presidential election in a small city whose name translates as "Taiwan South". The incumbent (trailing badly in most polls) is riding in an open vehicle with his vice president by his side, waving at the crowd. As is customary in this part of the world, firecrackers are being set off along the parade route, creating a deafening cacophony. Suddenly, the president feels a sharp pain in his abdomen. At the same time, the Vice President feels something penetrate her leg. Looking down, they both see blood. They have been shot , ineptly so, but shot nonetheless. They are taken to a local hospital and patched up. Within a few hours, they leave on their own power, flashing the thumbs-up sign and calling for calm from supporters and adversaries alike.

The next day, the wounded incumbents defy the odds, and are re-elected by an almost unfathomably tiny margin. The opposition goes into a frenzy, many openly claiming that the shooting was staged in order to gain sympathy. Staged? Perhaps, perhaps not. Effective in turning the tide in a razor-thin election? Unquestionably, say the embittered opposition. And across the ocean, the campaign teams of two men locked in their own fight for the hearts and minds of an almost evenly divided electorate sit up and take notice.

Fast forward a few months. Its October, and the polls show both American candidates in a dead heat. The DNC, eager to shed the Boston Brahman image that has dogged their candidate throughout the campaign, arranges for him to spend the afternoon bow hunting at Ted Nugent's compound in the battleground state of Michigan. But something goes awry, and the candidate's femur is pierced by an arrow from the rocker's bow. Limping back to his tour bus, the candidate gives the cameras a big "thumbs-up". The next day, CNN reports an incremental increase for the Democrats.

The next week, while fund raising in Pittsburgh, the embattled president makes a surprise visit to a nearby fairground where local civil war enthusiasts are re-enacting the battle of Gettysburg. Against the advice of his secret service entourage, the former National Guard deserter dons the uniform of a Union soldier and takes to the field. But somewhere in the melee the president is bayoneted in the arm. Though bleeding severely he refuses aid, instead walking back to the helipad on his own power, flashing a big "thumbs-up" sign at the press corps. That very evening, a FOX poll shows the president slightly ahead of his challenger.

In the week before the election, candidates and running mates cris-cross the country at a feverish pace. At nearly every stop, suspicious mishaps occurs; attempting to show the common touch by microwaving a burrito at a Miami 7-11, The Vice President short circuits his defibrillator and suffers second degree burns. In Colorado, the Democratic VP candidate is mauled by a deranged bull while making an appearance at a rodeo, his life saved by the intervention of a selfless Mexican rodeo clown. The "accidents" become more gruesome, and with each incident, the pendulum swings ever so slightly in the direction of the worst and most recently injured.

On election night, bones set and wounds cauterized, the candidates return to their respective headquarters to await the returns. The result is again razor thin. But when the smoke clears, the pundits are all able to agree on one thing: It wasn't the soccer moms that swung this election, nor was it the angry white males. In 2004, the bloody sympathy swing voters wielded the real power.

C 2004 Joshua Samuel Brown