Florida debate: 5 things we learned

Republican candidates clash on immigration, Fannie and Freddie and space domination.

Last night the four remaining Republican candidates took part in the final debate ahead of the primary for the battleground state of Florida on 31 January. There was a degree of role reversal in the performances; frontrunners Newt Gingrich and Mitt Romney repeatedly pressed, ridiculed and challenged one another -- the former showing less fight and momentum than his polling figures have suggested in recent weeks.

The verdict has largely fallen on the side of Romney as victor; though the other two candidates, Rick Santorum and Ron Paul, held the spotlight and audience applause in surprisingly large measure at this late stage in the race for nomination.

Here's the main five things, and corresponding clips, that we learnt from last night's crucial debate for the final four GOP candidates:

1) Romney's got bite

Early in the debate, Mitt Romney shamed rival Newt Gingrich over his claim the former Governor of Massachusetts was the "most anti-immigrant candidate." Romney called Gingrich's words "absolutely inexcusable" and "repulsive", while to his right the former House Speaker stood around uncomfortably. The crowd were behind Romney, and continued so whilst he stared Gingrich straight in the face, awaiting an apology.


2) Paul's king of the one-liner

He's going to hold on and keep them laughing until the bitter end. Conveying policy seemed not to be at the top of Ron Paul's agenda last night, but he certainly pleased the crowd.


The Texas congressman is not actually running in the Florida primary, but as in previous years, his safe base of supporters (and his health) will see him through the Presidential nominee race until he is finally forced out.


3) Gingrich shows signs of wearing down

After the immigration scuff, Romney continued to fire accusation of inadequecy at Gingrich, who responded to the attacks with weak anecdotes and complaints. The crowd were unimpressed.


Over in the Marbury blog, this was Ian Leslie take on Gingrich's performance:

[Gingrich was] tetchy, overly defensive and tired. He allowed Romney, whom he clearly despises, to get under his skin. He was too easily goaded into rhapsodising about space programs, which, even in Florida (home of the Space Coast), can make him seem a little detached from reality.

4) American's don't fear China "dominating space"

During the debate Gingrich was given the opportunity to expand on his proposals to build a moon colony -- for the benefit of the US economy -- were he to become president. In response, Romney relished saying he would fire Gingrich for such an idea, were he his boss, and swiftly moved on to attacking his rival's record of making state-specific pledges, vacuously "promising billions and billions of dollars to make people happy".


5) Santorum is hardly running, but he probably won

He is coming last in the polls and the pockets of his campaign may be empty, but Rick Santorum made an impressive performance on stage. He emerged the most successful candidate in holding Romney to account on policy; in many ways playing the part that Gingrich failed to claim. The former Senator for Pennsylvania spoke passionately "about freedom" in an attack on Romney's health care plan. Romney called him "angry", but the crowd -- and Republican voters watching at home -- most likely share Santorum's frustration.


Politico praised the performance:

. . . It's safe to say that on overall points, Santorum won the debate, although it was Romney who had the standout moment.

Santorum is barely making a play in Florida, and he is leaving the state this weekend to go home and handle his taxes -- essentially ceding the stage to Romney and Gingrich. But he has been presenting himself in this race as a more "consistent" conservative alternative to Gingrich, and someone who can match Romney on leadership.

Tuesday's closed primary will see one nominee gaining the full 50 Florida delegates. In the final debate, Romney's success at pressing his close rival Gingrich on issues that are contentious for them both -- transparency of personal wealth and immgration -- appears to have knocked him back into the lead.

Alice Gribbin is a Teaching-Writing Fellow at the Iowa Writers' Workshop. She was formerly the editorial assistant at the New Statesman.

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How did I, obsessed with non-places, not know about the Trafford Centre?

My wife had booked us all in to a showing of the latest Bond film at the IMAX Cinema at the Trafford Centre. “Why the Trafford Centre?” I taxed her. She looked at me as if I were a complete ass, but refused to enlighten me. 

Last year I bought a copy of J G Ballard’s last novel, Kingdom Come, a dystopic tale of the near future in which bored suburbanites descend into anomic violence as they retreat inside a giant shopping mall. Predictably, I bought my copy at the Bluewater shopping mall in north Kent, on the outskirts of London. Bluewater held the title of Britain’s biggest shopping mall for a number of years and it is surpassing large: a huge circular corridor that has become a destination. I asked a police officer where the Waterstones was and discovered she was a good old-fashioned bobby-on-the-beat – her beat having been, for seven years, to walk slowly around and around . . . Bluewater.

But I wasn’t fettered by Bluewater’s surly gravity, any more than I was galvanised by rampant consumerism. Novel purchased, I took a cab over the soaring Queen Elizabeth II Bridge to Essex, where I alighted at Bluewater’s twin establishment: the Lakeside shopping mall in West Thurrock. I headed for the Lakeside branch of Waterstones, where I . . . well, you guessed it: I returned my copy of Kingdom Come. This surreal little exercise was undertaken for the BBC Radio 4 documentary Malled: Sixty Years of Undercover Shopping, and I’ve detailed it here purely in order to illustrate this point: I have more than a passing interest in shopping malls.

This is why the events of a fortnight ago, when Family Self went up to Manchester for what is termed, I believe, a “city break”, seemed quite so bizarre. My wife had booked us all in to a showing of the latest Bond film at the IMAX Cinema at the Trafford Centre. “Why the Trafford Centre?” I taxed her. “It’s in Trafford, which is five miles from the city centre.” She looked at me as if I were a complete ass, but refused to enlighten me. My revelation came later, when we were wandering the rococo halls of the Trafford Centre, marvelling at the lashings of gold leaf applied to the serried columns as our soles slapped on the Italian marble flooring. My wife couldn’t believe that one such as I, obsessed by what the French philosopher Marc Augé has named “non-places”, didn’t know about the Trafford Centre.

But I didn’t – it was a 207,000-square-metre hole in my map of the world. I knew nothing of the bitter and protracted wrangling that attended its inception, as successive planning applications were rejected by ever higher authorities, until our Noble Lords had to step in to ensure future generations will be able to buy their schmutter at TK Maxx and then sip their lattes at Starbucks without having to brave the harsh Lancashire elements. Did I feel small as my savvier spouse led me through these storied halls? You bet your waddling, wobbling, standing-still-on-the-travelator bum I did. How could I not have known about the great central dome of the Trafford mall, which is bigger – and statelier – than that of St Paul’s? How could I have been unaware of the Orient, Europe’s largest food court, with its seating for 1,800 diners, served by a plethora of exciting outlets including Harry Ramsden’s, Carluccio’s and those piquant bun-pushers, McDonald’s?

Actually, the Orient completely bowled me over. The Trafford Centre’s imagineers point to the nearby Manchester Ship Canal as influencing this wholly novel and utterly weird space, which is formed by a sort of Möbius strip of 1930s ocean-liner design, being at once superstructure – railings, funnels, tables arranged to simulate the deckchairs on a sun deck – and interior. However, nothing like this ever cruised by Runcorn. Not that I object to this, any more than I objected to the cluttered corridor full of orientalism – noodle bars, sushi joints, all-you-can-eat Chinese barbecues – that debouched from it and led us back into the weirdly glistering main retail areas, with their ornamental griffins and neoclassical columns bodged up out of medium-density fibreboard.

The Trafford Centre’s imagineers also make great play of design features – such as the aforementioned griffins – that are meant to tie the humongous mall to its hinterland (these are the heraldic symbols of the de Traffords, who used to own hereabouts), and to the north-east’s proud industrial heritage. But this is all ornamental balls; the truth is that the Trafford Centre’s ambience is so sumptuously wacky, it could quite reasonably be twinned with Las Vegas.

While the rest of the family went in search of retail opportunities, I watched the Mancunians process. It occurred to me that if there were any influences at work here – besides the Baudrillardian ones of hyperreality and simulation that underpin so much of the contemporary built environment – it was the presence of a large British Asian community. The only people who didn’t look out of both place and time, wandering about among all the gilded pomp and crystalline circumstance, were women wearing saris, shalwar kameez and burqas. Tracksuit bottoms and hoodies just didn’t cut it – although, I concede, come the breakdown in civil society anticipated in Kingdom Come, this pseudo-sportswear will come into its own as the perfect pillaging outfit.

Next week: Lives of Others

Will Self is an author and journalist. His books include Umbrella, Shark, The Book of Dave and The Butt. He writes the Madness of Crowds and Real Meals columns for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 26 November 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Terror vs the State