narrative arcs

Lately there's been a strain of commentary, represented well by this article, that the Obama campaign can't "close the deal." The Obama campaign supposedly can't deliver the "knock-out" against the Clinton campaign.

The problem with that line of reasoning is that it assumes one campaign must be really strong and vital (e.g. Obama's) while the other is weak and dying (e.g. Clinton's). There are a couple of problems with this assumption.

First, this new assumption conveniently ignores the previous "Clinton inevitability" assumption popular only some four months ago. The idea basically was that the Clinton campaign's infrastructure was so vast and so deep that no other campaign would stand a chance. Well, it turns out another campaign did stand a chance. How conveniently we forget the "old" assumption.

Second, the assumption implies that, as strong and vital the Obama campaign is, there's some sort of Achilles-heel-type flaw in the campaign that prevents its landing the "knock-out" blow, "closing the deal," etc. etc.

I think the fact of the matter is that each campaign has an astute candidate, a skilled and experienced staff of advisors, and certain fundamental advantages in terms of organization, local elected-official support, and the like. Each campaign has maximized these advantages. If there wasn't such a well-run Obama campaign, then the Clinton campaign would already have officially prevailed. If there wasn't such a well-run Clinton campaign, then the Obama campaign would already have officially prevailed.

If, say, Iowa had gone second and New Hampshire had gone first, or if Pennsylvania had come before South Carolina, I bet the "narrative arc" of this Democratic nomination contest would have gone in reverse. In that alternative primary/caucus universe, commentators now are breathlessly speaking of the Obama campaign's thrilling comeback to take the lead in the delegate and popular vote count. Or something like that.

This sort of thing happens in sports all the time. Take baseball, for instance. The September games are considered more meaningful or important than the April games - but in reality, each game in the season counts for the same. A slump in the middle of the season is just that ... a slump. No need to worry about the team. But a slump at the end of the season means a "lack of clutch," and a slump at the beginning of the season means "a worrisome start."

But all of the games count the same.

It's human nature to organize any set of randomly- or arbitrarily-ordered events into some type of coherent narrative. (Creating narratives like this probably keep us sane!) It doesn't mean the narrative is very accurate, though.