Debates Used To Mean Something. Here's How To Revitalize Them | Opinion

Debates matter. In primaries and general elections, they allow candidates to introduce themselves to the voters. They help refine the agenda, let voters know where the candidates stand on the issues of the day, and, occasionally, provide moments that can turn a race on its ear.

That happened in New Hampshire in 1980, when Ronald Reagan's "I'm paying for this microphone" reminded GOP voters that he was large, in charge, and ready to be president. It happened again the following cycle when Walter Mondale, using a slogan borrowed from a national fast-food chain, dismissed Gary Hart's upstart "new ideas" primary challenge by asking, "Where's the beef?"

This year's GOP primary debates produced no such moments. But the lack of drama doesn't mean they weren't substantive, meaningful, and necessary.

The biggest problem, one the Democrats also experienced in 2020, is that the carnival-like atmosphere that infects so much of campaigning in today's America has bled into what are supposed to be serious, news-making events. Candidates in debates aren't just supposed to draw a contrast with their opponents; they're supposed to define themselves.

That's not what happened in 2024. What America got this year was a bunch of people running for second place, hoping for a social media breakout moment that might put them within reach of the frontrunner just long enough to launch a serious campaign against him. It didn't happen, but not because the candidates participating in the first few debates didn't try. Indeed, playing to the balcony was encouraged by the celebrity media monitors and network sponsors who hoped sparks would fly.

That might generate ratings, but it doesn't lead to a better-informed public. It doesn't help the American people to have debate moderators who are better known than the candidates on stage ask questions fed into their ears by producers crammed into a studio someplace offsite. It would be much better for all concerned if the general election debates—if there are any—were moderated by a rotating panel of print journalists, like in the good old days.

When television was new, and the three national networks viewed the news division as a kind of public trust rather than a profit center, the debates were an opportunity to question candidates and get unfiltered, unscripted answers. Those days are gone and aren't coming back. Even the widely advertised town halls where so-called "ordinary voters" get a chance to question the candidates are heavily managed, pre-planned, and scripted. The parties who sponsor the debates could work to improve on that model, and hopefully will before 2028.

Another thing that has to happen is for candidates to realize they should behave as though they already hold the office to which they aspire. Donald Trump set a poor example in 2016 and 2020, throwing sharp elbows and belittling his opponents far more than was necessary. Debates are a fantastic opportunity for candidates to show the people they can be "presidential" while auditioning for the presidency. That it didn't happen in 2024, in no small part because Trump wasn't on the stage, doesn't mean it can't happen in the future.

That matters because, as president, what political consultants like to call "message discipline" is critical to success in every aspect of politics. Leaders like Reagan, who could stay focused on what mattered most—reviving the American economy, restoring national pride, and winning the Cold War—are those the people consider great and near-great. On the other hand, Joe Biden, who flips from issue to issue like a carp in the bottom of a flatboat, doesn't do much to inspire confidence across the American electorate. The inability to stay on message may be the biggest obstacle Trump faces as he seeks to regain the presidency.

This flaw and others could be ironed out or at least addressed through debates. Trump has his style, and he's sticking with it. In his mind, it works, and he might be right. He won in 2016 and got 10 million more votes in 2020. He may have been defeated, but a shift of less than 50,000 votes spread across four key states would have kept him in the White House.

There's a way to make the debates better. Force candidates to face off against one another in a time-limited manner on a single issue. Make sure candidates who are running behind in the early polls get attention equal to the frontrunners. Push the moderators into the background. Deduct from the time allotted for closing statements for any candidate who isn't mindful of the time constraints during the debate. Place the ones who chronically misbehave, making a mockery of the people's opportunity to hear what they think about the issues that affect us all every day, on "time out."

Just because the 2024 GOP debates weren't what one would call "serious" doesn't mean they were not valuable. Even without the participation of the frontrunner, they provided the Republicans with an opportunity to reinforce just how much the American electorate disapproves of the job Biden is doing. That's worth doing any day.

Newsweek Contributing Editor Peter Roff is a longtime columnist who appears regularly on U.S. and international media platforms. Find him on social media @TheRoffDraft and by email at roffcolumns AT gmail.com.

The views expressed in this article are the writer's own.