ongratulations, gentlemen. You have just achieved an important goal. You've all but wrapped up the presidential nominations of two of the most powerful, well-established political parties on earth. You have done it, moreover, with dispatch and discipline. Most nomination battles last well into the spring; yours ended in winter. Most leave the victor bitter and bloodied; you are both in reasonably good shape.
You know, of course, that you are only halfway toward your ultimate goal, the White House. When Governor Bill Clinton was in your position eight years ago, he called Walter F. Mondale, the former vice president, and got some sobering advice: Conduct yourself in the next several weeks as if being your party's nominee for president was the most important job you will ever have.
It was sound counsel. But because you two have won your nomination so much earlier than your predecessors, you have more time and fewer distractions, which creates an enormous opportunity both for yourselves and for the country. You can teach the country something, and you can learn something from the country. You can prepare yourself for leadership, you can prepare the country for the leadership you will provide. No two nominees have ever had such a chance to do so much good for themselves and for the nation they would lead as you do right now. Seize the 120 days between now and the national conventions in Philadelphia and Los Angeles. Seize the chance to leave a lasting imprint.
For starters:
Raise the level of civic discourse. Neither of you has much to be proud of in the past several weeks. You have mischaracterized your rivals' records, exaggerated your own achievements, sown dissent in your own parties. In doing so, you have defeated your opponents - but diminished yourselves. And you have fed the popular cynicism that is rampant in the land. Now is the time to right things - and to get your own campaigns on the right track.
Start by vowing to speak only about your own plans, your own vision, your own values. You may believe the public has been paying attention rapturously these last few months; in truth, ordinary people haven't been watching, haven't been paying attention, haven't been voting. You may believe that Americans know who you are; they don't. Introduce yourselves by elevating the discussion, not cheapening it.
Go deep on the issues. Never have presidential candidates had so much time to develop creative approaches to the nation's problems and to educate the public on the issues facing them. Choose a few issues, gather your advisers, think deeply about the options available to the nation, and then conduct a national seminar - a chautauqua, in the language of the 19th century.
One subject surely must be education. The approach you take on this question must be free of jargon, false assumptions, and political opportunism. (One target: parents, who have the most cause to worry about what is or isn't going on in schools and who, statistics show, are one of the groups least likely to vote in November.) Another subject should be the surplus; your predecessors since President Nixon worried about deficits. You have the economic freedom to think more creatively about America's problems than have any nominees of modern time. Use that freedom.
Begin a searching examination of world issues. All the commentators and all your advisers have told you that this is a different world from the one occupied by your fathers, whose view of diplomacy was shaped by the Cold War, if not also by World War II. True enough. You don't have to worry about the Soviets, but there is plenty to worry about with the Russians. You don't have to be concerned about power blocs, but there are plenty of rogue states - and powerful groups attached to no states at all - to concern you. Develop a plan to combat biological and chemical warfare; the tragedy of the 21st century may be that you will need to call upon those plans. None of your predecessors worried much about Canada or Mexico. You should. You must.
In that vein, don't confine your thinking to conflicts, nor only to conflicts involving arms. There are other world problems the next president - that's one of you - will confront. There's the aging problem worldwide, especially in Europe. There's the youth problem worldwide, especially in Latin America and Africa. There are environmental problems everywhere, and particularly acute ones in Asia. There's the vulnerability that our dependence on high-technology creates; cyberterrorism threatens US banking, communications, and transportation systems. Find a high-tech solution to the problems posed by high tech.
Rethink your approach to campaign finance. Actions speak louder than words, and your actions shout. You are probably the two most accomplished fund-raisers ever to run for president. Despite your openness about your financial harvests, you have spent the past year appealing to special interests who expect to spend the next four years appealing to you. The dance for dollars is probably the most promiscuous part of politics, because in the end the contributors believe they are calling the tune.
Just because your fund-raising prowess helped chase your opponents out of the race doesn't mean that the issue is dead. It isn't. It is, more than almost anything, a test of leadership. It is not too late, in fact, for a bipartisan initiative - for both of you to come forward with a joint plan to diminish the role of big money in politics. Indeed, it is early enough in the season for action. Take some.
Have a reason beyond your own ambition to be president. Both of you come from political families, both of you watched your fathers deal with the disappointments of presidential politics, both of you have been preparing to be president for years. But neither of you has expressed original, personal reasons for seeking what is truly the most powerful job on earth.
Your reasons may lie deep in your souls, but some of the threads may connect to your fathers' experiences. Both lost bruising US Senate races in 1970, both invited their sons to play a role in those campaigns, both named their sons after them: Albert and George. One of you watched your father, a scrappy populist with an organic feeling for the land and the people of Tennessee, fight for the underdog and lose reelection while standing for racial harmony. One of you watched your father, a New England patrician transplanted to the oil fields of the Southwest, fight for the conservative principles that seemed so incongruous in the Texas of the time. Find your own voice, but listen to your fathers' whispers in your conscience. You could do worse.
Summon the nation's idealism. The presidents since World War II who left the biggest mark on the office and on the country managed to speak in idioms that transcended their time - and the conventions of their time. Both John F. Kennedy and Ronald W. Reagan gave voice to the nation's spirit and its most intimate yearnings. It is true that those words were crafted by Theodore Sorensen and Peggy Noonan, but the thoughts were genuinely the presidents'. Be a light unto the nation. History never ridiculed anyone who tried.
Have some fun. Politics has become a dreary discipline, and neither of you is exactly a Happy Warrior in the tradition of Al Smith, Hubert H. Humphrey - or Reagan. But in the entire history of American politics, no nominee - not Republican Barry Goldwater, who lost 44 states in 1964, not Democrats George S. McGovern or Mondale, who lost 49 states each, in 1972 and 1984, respectively - nobody ever looked back at their races with anything but nostalgia. Run around the country, stuff a tamale or a pirogi into your mouth, wear a ridiculous hat, put on the Campaign Stop High School sweatshirt. Enjoy yourselves. Make us laugh. We could all use it - and a president who knows its value.
David M. Shribman is chief of the Globe's Washington bureau.
