As Midterm Campaign Norms Erode, Even Debates Are Under Debate

Candidates for senator or governor routinely used to participate in two or three debates. Now some are skipping them altogether. Retail politicking at diners and state fairs is no longer the cliché it was for generations. And town-hall-style meetings, where citizens get to question their elected leaders and those running to replace them, have given way to the online echo chamber.

In midterm campaigns across the country, direct political engagement has been falling away, victim to security concerns, pandemic-era workarounds and Republican hostility to the mainstream media.

Many candidates are sticking instead to safer spaces: partisan news outlets, fund-raisers with supporters, friendly local crowds. The result is a profound shift in the long traditions of American campaigns that is both a symptom of and a contributor to the ills afflicting the country’s politics.

Campaigning used to force candidates to engage up close with the public, exposing them not only to supporters but to those who might disagree with them. Avoiding those tougher interactions cuts down on the opportunities for candidates’ characters and limitations to be revealed, and for elected officials to be held accountable to those who elected them. For the politicians, it creates an artificial environment where their positions appear uniformly popular and opposing views are angrily denounced, making compromise seem risky.

“They run these campaigns in bubbles to these voters who are in bubbles,” said former Representative Tom Davis, a moderate Republican who won seven terms in Congress in a Northern Virginia district and headed his party’s congressional campaign committee.

Mr. Davis said he felt “a duty” as a lawmaker to participate in debates and town-hall meetings. “People don’t feel that duty anymore,” he added. “When they say, ‘I went home and talked to my constituents,’ they are talking to their base.”

Nowhere is the trend clearer than on the country’s shrinking debate stage. Candidates in 10 of the most competitive contests for Senate and governor have agreed to just one debate, where voters not long ago could have expected to watch two or three. Those debates have already happened in Senate races in Arizona, North Carolina, Ohio, Georgia and Wisconsin and in the Texas and Wisconsin governor’s races.

Only in five contests — the Senate race in Ohio and governor’s races in Georgia, Kansas, Maine and Oregon — have the candidates agreed to multiple meetings.

In at least four other competitive contests, the candidates failed to agree to any debates at all.

In Arizona, Katie Hobbs, the Democrat running for governor, flatly declines to debate her Republican opponent. In Pennsylvania, Doug Mastriano, the far-right Republican nominee for governor, has rejected debates run by news organizations, citing what he called their “hidden partisan agenda.” In Missouri, the Republican nominee for Senate, Eric Schmitt, accused his opponent of refusing to debate. Ten days later, he failed to show for the first general election matchup.

And in Nevada, the major-party candidates for Senate agreed in principle to a televised face-off, but none has happened, because they couldn’t agree on the forum.

“It was almost inconceivable that we would not have a series of debates,” said Sig Rogich, a longtime Republican political consultant in Nevada and a former aide to Paul Laxalt, the grandfather of the current Republican Senate candidate, Adam Laxalt. “It used to be three, then it went to two and now it’s down to one. And pretty soon it will be none, and I don’t think that’s healthy.”

It’s not just debates. Town halls and other events that offered opportunities to interact with voters — stump speeches in sweaty high school gymnasiums, town square meet-and-greets, barnstorming bus tours — have become less common, and those that are still held are often more restricted than in the past. Campaign schedules that used to be blasted to email inboxes are kept private, leaving reporters to dig like detectives just to figure out where a candidate will show up.

The shift reflects a drop in the number of competitive House districts and a polarized environment in which swing voters are disappearing, so candidates see little advantage in trying to win them over.

It all amounts to an erosion of fundamental American traditions that date back to the earliest years of the Republic: forums in 17th-century New England meeting houses, Abraham Lincoln’s travels across Illinois to debate slavery with Stephen A. Douglas, and packs of reporters surrounding candidates in crowded church basements and veterans’ halls.

Pushing Away Reporters, Literally

When Mr. Mastriano, the Republican running for governor in Pennsylvania, appeared in Philadelphia last month, the event had some of the trappings of a traditional campaign stop. It was open to the news media, the candidate sounded standard Republican themes about crime and he emphasized the need for his party to engage Latino voters.

But just off-camera, little was as it might have seemed. Mr. Mastriano took no questions from journalists. And, as they often have during his campaign, aides muscled reporters away from the candidate, throwing arms or blocking those who tried to approach with questions.

In Atlanta earlier this month, reporters were not allowed into a “worship and luncheon” held for Herschel Walker, the Republican Senate nominee, who had just been accused of paying for an ex-girlfriend’s abortion. Police officers and a security guard even shooed journalists out of the parking lot.

For some Republicans, declining debates and shunning nonpartisan news outlets is a way to cast themselves in the image of former President Donald J. Trump, who frequently breaks with political norms. His attacks on reporters energized a conservative base that rewards Republican politicians for viewing the mainstream media as the enemy, leaving many strategists to see skipping debates and interviews as a way not only to protect their candidates from unforced errors but to rally support.

The irony of that approach is that while Mr. Trump often attacks mainstream journalists, he can’t quit them, either.

“You have these candidates saying, ‘I’m Trump-like, so I’m not going to talk to media or debate’ — meanwhile, that’s all he does,” said Christopher Nicholas, a Republican consultant in the battleground state of Pennsylvania who is involved with organizing political debates there.

A Republican Stance That Spread

While the trend of avoiding the public was initially driven by Republicans, it has seeped across party lines. In-person congressional town-hall meetings have fallen to record lows, according to Indivisible, a liberal grass-roots group that formed after the 2016 election. In 2017, the group counted 1,875 town-hall events by members of Congress. The number spiked to nearly 3,000 in 2019.

This year is not on pace to return to prepandemic levels. The group has tracked just 408 through the first half of the year. (Those numbers, the organization said, may fail to account for events announced abruptly on partisan social media.)

Bradford Fitch, president of the Congressional Management Foundation, which advises lawmakers on issues like running their offices and communicating with constituents, said he now urged members not to hold open public meetings because of security concerns.

In Democratic circles, candidates have skipped debates by saying their opponents’ actions suggest that any forums between them will not amount to a productive exchange of ideas.

Campaign aides to Ms. Hobbs, the Democratic nominee for governor in Arizona, cited the raucous Republican primary debates in their state as a reason for avoiding a general election face-off against her Republican opponent, Kari Lake, a former newscaster who has molded herself after Mr. Trump and his election lies.

Mr. Trump benefited immensely in 2016 from primary debates, where he dominated a large field. Four years later, as the pandemic raged and he recovered from Covid, he refused to hold virtual events, leading to the cancellation of the second scheduled presidential debate.

The Strategy Favoring Debates

For decades, debates about debates were driven by political strategy. A candidate in a strong position didn’t want to risk a misstep, and strategists grumbled that the hours of preparation could be better used for fund-raising or other events. Those trailing in the polls would push for more face-offs in hopes of a game-changing moment.

Such moments are rare, but they do happen.

In October 2016, Senator Kelly Ayotte, a Republican from New Hampshire, said that, “absolutely,” Mr. Trump could be a role model for young children. She spent weeks explaining the remark before losing by about 1,000 votes.

That same month in 2016, in the Nevada Senate race, Catherine Cortez Masto, a Democrat, delivered a strong performance in a debate against a Republican who struggled to explain why he had backed away from his endorsement of Mr. Trump. She won narrowly and now is trying to pressure Mr. Laxalt onto the debate stage in hopes of gaining momentum in her re-election race.

Mr. Nicholas, the Republican strategist in Pennsylvania, said the lighter debate schedule this year was a far cry from the three debates that his old boss, former Senator Arlen Specter, always participated in.

“In normal times, we would have done three to five debates in the Senate race,” Mr. Nichols said. “Now, it looks like of all of the big Pennsylvania races, there’s only going to be one debate in one race.”

There is little sign that debates will return in two years. The Republican National Committee has told the Commission on Presidential Debates that its 2024 presidential candidate will not participate in commission-sponsored debates unless it changes its rules on dates and moderators.

“The constructive collision of ideas that used to be the hallmark of our democracy is becoming a distant memory,” said Jason Grumet, president of the Bipartisan Policy Center.

Katie Glueck and Maya King contributed reporting.