MOST US election campaigns play like a dusty desert highway stretching into the distance as far as the eye can see. From time to time, the severity of the landscape may be relieved by a past-its-sell-by-date sex scandal or rumours of dodgy-dealing, b
ut, for the most part, it's just one back-slapping rally after another until a president and vice-president are chosen.
This election, however, has given us more spills and thrills than a day at Alton Towers. Like the perfect roller coaster, it has combined terrifying vertical plunges (as fault lines on race and gender have been exposed) with a rapid series of twists and turns (long-lost brothers, mad preachers, sexist slip-ups and fake Bosnian sniper fire stories). Then, just as the ride seemed to be slowing down, God-fearing, snowmobiling, "hockey mom" Sarah Palin appeared from nowhere to raise adrenaline levels (and blood pressures) again.
And she achieved the seemingly impossible: she made even suave, charismatic, Obama seem bland. In a contest where – like the X-Factor – a back-story is as important as a good audition, she upped the ante. Obama may come from a broken home, McCain may have spent years as a PoW in Vietnam and Joe Biden have lost his wife and baby daughter in a car crash in the 1970s. But the governor of Alaska has a son heading for Iraq, a Down's Syndrome baby and a pregnant teenage daughter she's standing by. And – what's more – the self-confessed 'pit bull in lipstick' can shoot a moose at 50 yards. You can't get much more sensational than that.
There is something splendid about the way in which Palin has burst on to the American political scene, scattering shards of colour around her. It's not just the fact that she has shaken up the old boys' network. Nor is it the fact that she has perfected a sexy librarian look that bewitches men without alienating women. No, Palin's real appeal lies in the way she defies all attempts to label her; the way that just when you think you've finally got her pegged, another revelation about her life forces you to think again.
A staunchly traditional mother-of-five, who has carved out a political career for herself; a pro-lifer determined to keep her Down's Syndrome baby, but prepared to leave him after just four months to go on the campaign trail; a politician who simultaneously embodies the establishment and stands outside it, she is that rare thing: a woman who has got to the top without conforming to other people's expectations of what she should be.
Her opinions on education (she thinks Creationism should be taught alongside the theory of evolution) and censorship (she wanted to ban certain books from the library of her home town Wasilla) may place in the most conservative wing of her party, but she's also a subversive, forcing both feminists and Republicans to take up positions that are alien to them. Who would have predicted the sisterhood would unite against the first female vice-presidential candidate or that Bible Belt America would cheer on a mother whose teenage daughter has become pregnant out of marriage?
Men, too, are unsure what to make of her: the more chauvinistic of them are happy to buy into the fantasy of a gun-toting teenage beauty queen. But the whole ball-busting, Sarah "Barracuda" thing seems to be diametrically opposed to the demure, besuited figure we see on TV and challenges established notions of what constitutes femininity.
It takes a true maverick to turn our preconceptions on their head, and mavericks add to the gaiety of any nation. In a drab, political environment populated by clones, those who dare to be different take on an almost iconic status – look at Tommy Sheridan, George Galloway and Boris Johnson. They gained their popularity, not because their vision was shared by a vast number of people, but because by being passionate, eccentric and true to themselves they provided a break from the monotony and cynicism of mainstream politics.
The problem arises when these larger-than-life characters are so dazzling voters are blinded as to their true purpose – to make the world a more vibrant, entertaining place – and allow them access to real power. The impact of such misjudgment can be seen only too clearly in Johnson's rise. One minute we were rejoicing in foibles of a Tory toff who refused to toe the party line, and the next we were watching a bumbling buffoon grappling with a flag at Beijing and wondering how he could possibly represent our capital city in the run-up to the 2012 Olympics.
And so it is with Palin. Much as her selection as McCain's running mate has enlivened the election campaign, and much, even, as her ability to work a crowd has impressed, you wouldn't really want to see her at the helm of the most powerful, country in the world, would you?
Not when you learn that last year, she urged ministry students to pray for a $30bn natural gas pipeline in Alaska, because it was "God's will", or that she has opposed funding sex education programmes in her home state. Not when you consider she opposes abortion even for victims of rape and denies climate change is linked to human activity. It is to be hoped that when the sensation over her speech to the Republican convention dies down, reality will bite.
That floating US voters will ask themselves not "is this woman a breath of fresh air?", but "do we want her a heartbeat away from the presidency?" And that the answer will be a resounding: "No."
The full article contains 970 words and appears in Scotland On Sunday newspaper.
