The most common form of \'special information programming' during election campaigns is the candidate debate. A variant of this is the panel interview.
These special formats are unusual in that they fall somewhere between regular editorial programming and direct access slots. Indeed, in some countries the only form of direct access available comes as an interview or debate.
This unusual and hybrid nature of 'special programming' means that in most places where they are conducted a special set of rules has emerged. Sometimes these rules are established by law, sometimes by self-regulation and sometimes by custom and practice. See Debate Formats.
The most famous examples of this type of programming have been the presidential debates in the United States, dating from 1960 when a perceived debate victory by John F. Kennedy has always been credited with securing a narrow election win over Richard Nixon shortly afterwards. (One of the peculiarities of these events is that the participants are always anxious to claim victory in the debates, while pundits score them, rather like judges in a boxing contest. To the lay audience it is not always so clear who has won.) Received wisdom now has it that Nixon, with his five o'clock shadow, looked shifty and untrustworthy - a judgement that at least has the support of subsequent history. But those who listened to the debate on the radio thought that Nixon had won - it was his appearance that was decisive. This was caused at least in part by the fact that he was in pain from a knee injury.
In the United States the rules governing these debates have evolved by convention. However, the broadcasters must still abide by the equal opportunities rule made under the Federal Communication Act. This stipulates (among other things) that a broadcaster may choose which candidates are invited to take part in a debate, but that those candidates who are chosen must then be afforded equal opportunities. Effectively this allows broadcasters to exclude minor candidates from debates, which are usually confined to the two main Democrat and Republican presidential candidates. This has led, in 2000, to two other candidates announcing plans to take legal action after they were excluded from televised debates.
Not everyone agrees that candidate debates are a good thing. The main arguments against them are these:
- Debates can create artificial discord - perhaps a significant consideration where countries have recently emerged from violent strife.
- Political discourse becomes too personalized - head-to-head debates underline the 'horse-race' nature of political campaigning, all style and no substance.
- Candidates will not agree on the need for a debate - challengers are always more likely to favour them than incumbents.
None of these arguments is overwhelming. It is not acceptable to refrain from vigorous discussion just because this spilt into violence in the past. And 20-second advertising slots do more to degrade the quality of political discourse than a lengthy live debate.
Nevertheless, many countries manage happily without them. The debate is particularly suited to presidential campaigning. Broader campaigns in legislative elections do not lend themselves to that type of format, although there will often be other forms of special programming in which leading candidates will be questioned about their policies.
Candidates are often interviewed, sometimes in a special formalized setting. Sometimes, as in the 2000 elections in Zimbabwe, special interviews are almost the only opportunity that parties have to speak directly to the electorate about their policies. In these circumstances it is advisable o have an agreed forma, although this would not normally be set down in laws or regulations. The aim would be to have a balance of political allegiances among the journalists conducting the interview, as well as a balance of issues that did not reflect the agenda of one or other party.
Often broadcasters will have phone-in discussions in which the electorate can address questions directly to politicians. Such programmes can suffer the deficiencies of all phone-ins - rambling, self-important and ill-informed callers. But they can also offer sensationally effective examination of politicians' policies. No British Prime Minister, for example, has dared to submit him or herself to such questioning since 1983, when Margaret Thatcher was interrogated with great forensic skill on the British sinking of an Argentinian warship in the South Atlantic. The caller, a Mrs Gould from Bristol, not only infuriated the Prime Minister by exposing the inconsistencies in her explanation. She also shamed the professional journalists whose job was to hold government accountable.
