Editor’s Note: This is an opinion contribution by a supporter of Colleen Hanabusa.



The Democratic primary for U.S. Senate presents two fascinating contrasts, one between electoral and court politics, the other between grassroots and television campaigning. The candidates, Rep. Colleen Hanabusa and Sen. Brian Schatz, are close on many issues, but are near opposites in other ways.

The congresswoman is no mystery. She’s a well-known and experienced elected official running a grass roots campaign. Like her or not, what you see is what you get. She’s touring the state one potluck at a time, and banking that a majority of voters still believe that good government requires a direct, two-way link between voters and officials.

The career and campaign of Sen. Schatz are really quite different. He’s combining something quite old, courtier politics, with something relatively new in Hawaii, a TV ad blitz.

The candidates in the Democratic primary. (PF Bentley/Civil Beat)

The outcome of this race could tell us something about the future of democracy in these islands.

Mr. Schatz knows he has to reach voters, but he’s devoted equal energy to soliciting big money and cultivating powerful patrons.

Take the second point first. Schatz must have learned early that voters can be fickle, while a patron can jump your career decades ahead.

This strategy paid off spectacularly in 2012, when Gov. Neil Abercrombie hoisted him to the U.S. Senate.

As journalists around the country scrambled to google a guy they’d never heard of, the young Schatz floated into the most prestigious legislative body on earth.

Now that he’s visible, it’s clear that Sen. Schatz is a master courtier. He’s not just perky and nimble; he hustles and has great timing.

To keep a patron, you must anticipate his every whim, and yet appear outwardly independent. You must appear loyal, yet cultivate your next patron before the current patron stumbles. This is an ancient and delicate art.

Once in Washington, our senator wasted no time cultivating more powerful patrons — not just Obama, but Harry Reid, Al Gore, Michael Bloomberg — anyone, in fact, who could burnish his image or fill his pockets.

Mr. Abercrombie, for example, is a capricious boss. When one recalls how many Abercrombie appointees have fallen from grace or resigned in despair, then Mr. Schatz’ skills begin to seem very impressive indeed.

Nor are these skills limited to Hawaii.

Flash forward to the TV spot that shows Schatz walking with President Obama, (or – better yet — the new one that makes you wonder whether Schatz has moved into the White House). Once in Washington, our senator wasted no time cultivating more powerful patrons — not just Obama, but Harry Reid, Al Gore, Michael Bloomberg — anyone, in fact, who could burnish his image or fill his pockets.

And fill them he has! The Schatz campaign has money to burn. The senator would have us believe that this reflects his brilliant debut in Washington. But that’s silly. He hasn’t had time to make a legislative mark.

His money clearly represents expectation, not reward. The question is, should we admire Brian’s big bucks, or should we be worried?

I’m inclined to worry. I fear too many special interests see Senator Schatz as a golden opportunity. He’s ambitious, he’s uniquely available and, as an appointee, he’s not really tied to any constituency. “Like sharks spying a young seal / They see him as an easy meal.”

Among Oahu insiders, Schatz has a considerable following; but he’s not exactly a community leader.

When he was appointed senator, the most common response out here in the bushes was, “Who’s he?” This is why his campaign strategy must be the reverse of Hanabusa’s: Not grassroots, but trickle down; not getting out a message, but crafting a telegenic persona.

Television can report the truth about a candidate. But in the hands of spin masters, it can also work magic, offering instant recognition, extreme makeover, even the illusion of personal concern.

With the right lighting and enough takes, careerists can come across as saviors. Properly scripted and coached, a timid trimmer can roar onscreen like a lion. TV can do these things, simply because paid messages can be crafted and rehearsed under laboratory conditions, without audience or opposition.

The Schatz ads are quite skillful.

The clips of Obama say, “Brian is running with the big dogs.” By surrounding him with constituents, they make us forget his appointment. By rattling off achievements, they make us forget he’s a beginner.

On screen, a larger-than-life Sen. Schatz takes positions — equal pay, minimum wage, gun control, anti-big oil — which sound tough and visionary, but are, in every case, safe in Hawaii and light on specifics.

Certain shots make us feel he’s an advocate for Native Hawaiians. Yet conspicuously missing is any live footage of Lt. Gov. Schatz pushing harder than anyone to devastate Molokai and Lanai with giant wind turbines.

Realists insist that TV campaigns are a necessary evil, like rush-hour traffic. But this isn’t really true in Hawaii, given our small population. There isn’t a precinct in this state that can’t be walked; the whole state can be reached in a series of rallies; family networks connect every island.

In Hawaii, television advertising is a luxury; it’s a necessity only if you’re peddling illusions. Voters should wonder why any Hawaii politician chooses to campaign via electronic persona.

Recent polls claim Schatz has “surged ahead.” Maybe he has, but polls can be part of the spin. A smart media campaign is a feedback loop: Big money creates the illusion of credibility and familiarity; big money then buys polls which record these illusions, which are reported as facts. This self-generated “surge” is then hailed as a “breakthrough.”

With luck, print journalists buy into the illusion, trying to evaluate “positions” confected in campaign commercials, or hunt for hidden qualities in the media candidate to explain the “surge.”

Before you know it, they’re debating where the opponent “went wrong.” Given enough repetition, illusion prevails, swing voters shift to a projected “frontrunner,” and the hyped candidate wins. Fiction becomes fact, and money buys power.

The natural retort: So what? If Sen. Schatz attracts money, it just means he’s good at his job. If it lets him dominate the airwaves, that just shows he’s good at getting his message out.

Perhaps. But it seems worth asking just what we get when we vote for the money candidate. If a candidate is not connected to the voters, does his message mean anything? Does fundraising power really translate into benefits for the folks back home?

Since campaign money is a gift and all gifts have strings, we should expect money candidates to be tied hand and foot. If we really want officials who will listen to us, we need to reward hard work over hard cash.

There are, moreover, strict limits to what money can do. It may win elections, but it can’t eliminate voters’ remorse. After the election comes the hangover.

Even before the spin doctors jet home to deposit their fat fees, it can become painfully obvious that the hyped candidate is not the charming hero seen on TV, but only a tired actor, relieved to get past the election “hurdle” and anxious to resume his own agenda.

Unlike walking precincts, public debate or time in office, crafting a persona involves no test of character. The test comes only after the election, when the new U.S. senator is confronted with impregnable bureaucracies, armies of slick lobbyists, arcane Senate rules, the treacherous smiles of experienced colleagues and a partisan civil war.

Mastering this jungle demands more than scripted congeniality.

In the short run, it may seem better to have a senator who is “Obama’s guy” rather than “Hawaii’s gal.” A president can make it rain for his minions. But Obama is gone after 2016, and the next “patron” may be Republican. Fellow senators may also slight a colleague who parachuted in, or who climbs by Velcro.

As long as Hawaii remains a quasi-monarchy, it will produce courtier-politicians. (It’s not surprising that Hawaii has produced a Brian Schatz. For centuries, service to royals was the only career path for an aspiring politician. Statehood was supposed to replace courtiers with elected representatives, but the shift from monarchy to republic is incomplete.) The question is not whether these types are useful here, but whether they are useful in Washington.

Given the rough and tumble of mainland politics, it seems prudent to send only self-reliant veterans to that battlefield. Mr. Inouye, one is reminded, succeeded not because he was “Burns’ guy” or “LBJ’s guy,” but because he was a tough fighter.

No election can guarantee future performance. The experienced representative can choke; the over-hyped novice can surprise everyone. But on Aug. 9, Democratic voters should at least consider this:

In the case of Sen. Schatz, neither his means of ascent nor his chosen campaign style are particularly democratic. He may be a sweet guy with our best interests at heart, but he shows neither the patience nor the humility we have a right to expect from our representatives.

“We the people” can easily elect him senator, but that won’t necessarily settle the nagging question that hangs over his campaign: Who will his next boss be?

We elect our governors, but their broad appointment powers allow them to assemble an ersatz court, often recruited from frustrated campaigners.

As Mr. Schatz illustrates, nothing beats being a governor’s favorite.