Situated in an intermediate but imprecise (and apparently mobile) point between the parliamentary debate and the party rally, television debates have increased in multiples of two: there have been two debates of the number one candidates, two debates of other candidates (for Barcelona, for example, on RTVE and TV3), debates between two have been between four, or between six, and even the election year itself seems to be a double-round date between 28 April and 26 May.
There have been debates in pairs, yes, and nones too, because of the no's (and the "no is no"), the negations, the negativity, the exclusions. There have been debates, or moments in the debates, that seemed to belong to doubles matches between left and right. Tennis, perhaps (though not without sparing the couple's racquets), only not on clay. From the accumulation of bile, from the misdirected energy, real or feigned iniquity, bad manners and arrogance, they seemed, rather, like doubles on scorched earth. I do not disdain the English word which, with a grimace of disgust that resembled it, I heard a British professor use to sum up for me what they had been: nasty.
For, with all the expectation that they provoked, the experience has led to a disappointing paradox: the more necessary they seem, the more saturated and exhausted we are once they are over. Pablo Iglesias's bizarre suggestion that electoral debates should be obligatory and regulated by law is a symptom of that very Hispanic peculiarity of wanting to resolve by legal means with small print what should belong to the life-giving spirit of the democratic arena.
If the demand for debate is really so urgent, this spirit cannot be embodied only in party leaders who come ritualistically or routinely to a television studio on a campaign night to say everything and more to each other, but in demands that cannot be legislated for, but which constitute a civic minimum. In short: misconduct that in another form of public exchange would serve to bring the event to a close should not be tolerated.
But if the clashes have been so acrimonious, it is because they are a very pure expression of something as murky as it is widespread: the destructive ways of Spanish political dialectics (that is to say). Also conceived as a strategy, or so it seems, tremendismo and stridency want to conquer the playing field, but have they succeeded? Note that answering simply yes or no seems very ambiguous.
The field of public discussion is sectarianised in the media, as much if not more so than in politics itself, so that not only are these manners transferred to the television sets, but, as if in a loop, they are continued in the media itself. Consequently, instead of the unanimous tone of the press being one of disgust, everyone is more concerned with the success of their sponsors so that they can declare them somewhat victorious. And sometimes, it has been seen, in stark contrast to the opinion of the specialists.
Hence the frequent comparison with the "viscera" television programmes, more Mediaset than Atresmedia. Or that they resembled screaming in a discotheque with the music turned up to the maximum.
However, in a hyper-technological society, the quickest solution always seems to be the most efficient. However, when applied to the social body, this recipe does not work like that. It would be tantamount to equating shock with conviction, except that one does not persuade with fists, not even dialectical ones. So some have acted like the Allied generals in the First World War, confident that a saturation bombardment will annihilate the enemy to allow them to advance into no man's land. Only the enemy remains comfortably crouched and soon responds with machine-gun fire: less forceful, but more deadly. And so no trenches are occupied, not even in close combat.
In contrast, to venture to renounce these forms, as Pablo Iglesias did in his second debate, was to run the risk of falling into irrelevance, as he wanted to make an example of the counter-example. And it should be noted that to do so, he even had to replace the moderators in their reprimands. This was another striking feature: the moderators were so misguided in such an overheated environment, and so anxious that the contestants should not feel constrained by any corset of politeness, that the debates ended up getting out of hand. It is telling that they did not then receive the reproaches that were heaped on Manuel Campo Vidal on similar occasions in 2015 and 2016.
Let us add that one of the most unusual things was the fact that there were two debates on successive days between the leading figures of the four main parliamentary groups, and that this was due, above all, to a chance occurrence, the unintentional result of a reasonable decision by the Central Electoral Board: leaving Vox out of the debate scheduled for Atresmedia. Reasonable, not for the technical criterion of lacking parliamentary representation, but because of the comparative disadvantage compared to others who did have it. This punished the opportunism of Pedro Sánchez, who only took advantage of the virtues of public television when the combination of the private channels did not suit his taste. By force they hang: he had to go, he had no other choice, to both calls, and this influenced his strategic conservatism in the way he debated, and his bad manners.
No less extravagant was being able to attend a debate in which two female candidates attacked the moderator first and foremost - .... - challenging not his role in the debate but his very position, and even handing him their letter of resignation already drafted! It happened in Barcelona, with Inés Arrimadas and Cayetana Álvarez de Toledo facing Vicent Sanchis, director of TV3. It was legitimate and perhaps obligatory to ask Sanchis not to moderate the debate, as he was indicted and reproved in parliament, as if the station did not also have other journalists. And it cannot be ruled out that Sanchis used the debate to raise a highly questioned profile. But once accepted, one has to adapt to the rules of the script.
And oh paradox, here's another one: the political vice of abounding in unvarnished falsehoods, so stark and so frequent in this year's debates, has stimulated in the media the groups of fact-checkersThe data veracity testers (from The objective from the Sixth to La Vanguardiato mention the most outstanding ones).
However, offering these political-moral admonitions does not prevent us from administering some advice of a decidedly technical nature. In this case, personal perplexity is not limited to the hackneyed "what politicians we have" (with signs of resignation rather than admiration), but rather to a questioning and astonished: "but what kind of advisors do they have?
First of all, an objective problem becomes apparent: increasing the number of contenders in a sea of undecideds means that the candidate must not only persuade, but must also start by looking for his or her voter in this huge mass, just as the voter must look for his or her choice. And strategies must be devised to that effect in order to stand out without charring the debate.
Second, it is astonishing that the last speech of each debate, the so-called "golden minute", which should be resonant and end on a high note, has been so badly used. Rhetorical similes that aspire to be univocally memorable, in a simplistic way, and more impostured than lived by unnatural actors - Rajoy's "little girl", Rivera's "do you hear the silence? Nor is the message cut short by the urgency of delivering the final blows, as happened to Casado, exactly advisable. That minute must be so well rehearsed that it doesn't even seem so, it must be free of papers, of any distractions. It must be resolute, impeccable, inevitable in the best sense.
Third, equally striking has been the use and abuse of so-called "visual elements" - framed photos, doctoral theses, books, rolls of paper, graphs and statistics without accredited sources - which have peppered the debates in an extemporaneous way: resorting to anything that can fit in the hand, or on the meagre lectern (and it was unbelievable that so many could fit). They have also been the object of ridicule.
All of which leads to the conclusion that, dialectical wiles aside, debates need more professional oratory, but without the rhetorical vacuities to which we are, unfortunately, accustomed. It must be understood that debates can be an opportunity to present an ideological formula that is well embodied by the person claiming to be "leader", but a consistent strategy must be devised and constructive forms must be persisted with: the virtuous ways seem initially weaker, but if they take root, they are more solid.
Let us note in conclusion that, while this analysis has been substantially thought through before the outcome of the general elections, I invite the reader to consider the extent to which the way in which the political leaders have proceeded in the general elections has influenced their respective results.
This is only the end of the first act. The debates in the second act may well be less harsh, but not necessarily better. We shall see.
Pablo Carbajosa
Head of the Public Speaking Department at Proa Comunicación and coordinator of the Debate Club at the Universidad Pontificia Comillas de Madrid.