An Ex-Beauty Queen for VP: Political Risk or Political Genius?

With no foreign policy experience and a political resume that could fit on my pinky fingernail, Sarah Palin is an absurd choice for vice president. Yet it should come as no surprise to the public -- especially to Democrats -- that John McCain chose her anyway.

That's because the very issues that Democrats say make her a political risk -- her newness to the political world stage, her anti-choice stance, her opposition to gay marriage, her support of capital punishment, her disregard for the environment -- matter very little in determining the outcome of elections. Voters -- some of whom dissect policy issues daily, but most of whom don't -- ultimately cast their ballots based on emotion. Not logic. Not knowledge of "the issues."

This was supposed to have been the big take-away lesson of 2004. That debate, perhaps more so than any other since the first televised presidential showdown between John F. Kennedy and Richard Nixon, showed that appearance, charisma, personality and likeability matter. Smarts are mostly a bonus and a distant second.

In 2004, John Kerry was the champion debater. He was sharp, focused, intelligent. He could call B.S. on George W. Bush and poke holes in nearly any of his arguments. But he was also stiff. He seemed cool and disconnected, not just because of his body language but also because of his words. His policy prescriptions, detailed as they were, didn't connect with his audience. Four years after hearing him speak, I can only recall that, on an intellectual level, I agreed with his points. But I don't remember what he said. His words didn't resonate with me. They didn't stick with me in my gut.

Bush, on the other hand, was the dunce. He wore a goofy smile and dodged questions in each debate. But he was the man people could imagine having a beer with. He drew crowds in with his drawl, spoke in a simple, unintimidating way, and so could get away with covering up four years of abysmal domestic and foreign policy. I probably disagreed with 99 percent of what Bush said, but I can at least remember some of his talking points. He said he worked hard and promised to work hard for American families. He said he understood American families. He said he would protect American families.

Was that a load of bull? Of course. But it sure was delivered in pretty packaging. And, most importantly, it made a large number of voters feel good.

Drew Westen, a clinical, personality and political psychologist who teaches at Emory University, explains this phenomenon in his recent book, The Political Brain: The Role of Emotion in Deciding the Fate of the Nation. "(T)he vision of mind that has captured the imagination of philosophers, cognitive scientists, economists, and political scientists since the eighteenth century -- a dispassionate mind that makes decisions by weighing the evidence and reasoning to the most valid conclusions -- bears no relation to how the mind and brain actually work," Westen writes. "When campaign strategists start from this vision of mind, their candidates typically lose."

Simply put, people don't always vote for the candidate or the policy that serves their own best interests. That concept should be no more surprising in politics than in other parts of people's lives. If individuals always did what was best for them, they would consistently choose broccoli over cake; they would enter into relationships with the good guy (or gal) instead of the charming jerk who never calls; they would stick to purchasing necessities and use credit cards as a last resort -- only when there's not enough money at the end of the month to pay for groceries or utility bills.

But we all know people who eat more sweets than they should, date charismatic yet inconsiderate cretins, and shop on impulse. Those behaviors might be unhealthy, but they sure can feel good at the time. That's the campaign strategy Republicans have perfected: manipulating our senses and emotions to make us act in ways that we'll later regret.