THE best question asked at the first debate for Democratic presidential candidates on October 13th was submitted by a member of the public. It concerned the frustrations of governing a divided country, and it was put to Senator Bernie Sanders of Vermont, a leftist who has become an unexpectedly successful challenger to the front-runner, Hillary Clinton. President Barack Obama has struggled to get Republicans to compromise on “just about every agenda”, the questioner asked: how would a Sanders administration be any different? Mr Sanders offered hope rather than a real answer. Yes, the snowy-haired senator agreed, Republicans have been “terrible, terrible” obstructionists. But if millions of young people and workers come together and demand such policies as free college tuition or a near-doubling of the federal minimum wage to $15 an hour, then, he averred, Republicans will realise that they are outnumbered and buckle. Indeed, flying in the face of all evidence, Mr Sanders was not even willing to concede the near-certain reality that Republicans will control the House of Representatives after 2016, if not the Senate as well.

Mrs Clinton took a different tack in this opening debate of the primary season, held in the gilded, chandeliered bowels of a Las Vegas casino resort. In place of hope the former secretary of state offered experience, and a promise that she knows how to turn progressive wishes into laws, even when Congress teems with Republicans. Recalling her work alongside Mr Obama as well as her policy work as First Lady from 1993 to 2000, Mrs Clinton touted her “tenacity”. Asked if she is a moderate or a progressive, she replied: “I’m a progressive who likes to get things done.”

To politicians, pundits and donors, Mrs Clinton was the clear debate winner. Her answers were confident and polished. More than once she turned tough questions into chances to stress how historic it would be to have a woman president. For his part, Mr Sanders struggled. After months of adoring Bernie-mania at campaign rallies, he seemed flustered under fire on the debate stage. He was testy when defending his Senate record of opposing curbs on the gun trade—a record that he ascribed to the political realities of representing a rural state, rather than to principle. Some focus groups showed voters relishing his fiery rhetoric—but there is a ceiling to his support, and he did nothing to raise it.

Hillary versus Hillary: The 2008-2016 horse race There were three other men on stage. They mattered hardly at all. The only coherent speaker among the also-rans, Martin O’Malley, a former governor of Maryland, is the wrong candidate for this moment. He has enough governing experience to fall foul of a widespread anti-politics mood, and not enough to challenge Mrs Clinton’s in a game of résumé trumps. More usefully, the clash offered some important clues about how the coming election will be fought, in a country plagued by dysfunctional government. The causes of that dysfunction look increasingly structural. On one day every four years turnout rises and the country turns into a competitive battleground with a distinct Democratic edge, thanks in part to millions of low-income, young and non-white voters who tune into politics only when the White House is up for grabs. In between times, and notably in election contests for congressional and state offices, America is a collection of mostly safe districts and seats, in which Republicans enjoy a hefty majority. The result is a country that has handed Democratic candidates for the presidency a plurality of the popular vote in five of the six last contests, while handing Republicans some of their largest majorities in Congress since the Depression. The consequence is gridlock. Mr Sanders, a self-described democratic socialist who cites Denmark and Norway as role models, insists that gridlock can be avoided if millions of apathetic Americans can be lured into the electorate, revealing a natural majority for economic populism and redistribution. As the senator put it on debate night, his campaign is sparking excitement all over this country, and: “Democrats at the White House on down will win, when there is excitement and a large voter turnout.” In this Mr Sanders echoes a core belief among hardline Republicans, who insist that sweeping conservative majorities are within their party’s grasp, if only their leaders would offer policies ferocious enough to fire up millions of disgruntled right-wing voters or social conservatives who have sat out recent elections and stayed home.

The Copenhagen consensus

In contrast, Mrs Clinton offered a pitch to those Americans who actually vote, and who currently insist on forcing the two parties to share power. On debate night, on the most polarising issues she appealed to Democrats alone, judging that those who take a conservative line on gun rights or abortion are lost to her. But where she could appeal to centrist sensibilities and talk about working with Republicans, she did so. She took a harder line than Mr Obama on countering Russia, arguing for the creation of “safe zones” for embattled civilians in Syria. In a nod to Mr Sanders and his scepticism about modern capitalism, she suggested that the solution is not Nordic social democracy, but reforming American capitalism to save it from its own excesses. “I love Denmark,” Mrs Clinton noted drily. “But we are not Denmark.”