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FRANCE - France likes to pride itself on the depth of its political culture and casts a baleful eye at the United States, where electioneering is deemed horrifyingly shallow, driven by TV's craving for image and the soundbite.
So what are we to make of the frenzy that unfolded behind the scenes ahead of the big TV debate between Nicolas Sarkozy and Segolene Royal?
Spin doctors for the rivals for the French presidency spent days haggling over the format for Thursday's faceoff. With polls predicting a tight finish in tomorrow's vote, no one wanted to concede a millimetre of ground.
They negotiated fiercely over the studio set, including the table's size, colour and even its texture, fought over which of the two should sit to the right of the debate moderators and which to the left, and who should get to speak first. They squabbled over the position and shape of the water glasses, over camera angles and backdrop. To ensure that each candidate had an equal right of reply, they agreed that two enormous digital clocks be placed on the set, timing the words down to the second.
Flying wedges of image consultants and psychologists primed the candidates on clothing, posture and tactics.
Royal's outfit was an exquisitely-tailored, blue suit with a dazzling white blouse and officer collar; her hair coiffed yet not starchy, the makeup enough to cover the dark patches under her eyes but not a pancake job. She sat upright, her hands folded on the table and calmly looked at Sarkozy straight in the eye: the image was fresh, crisp and serious, a woman who means business.
Sarkozy, notorious for looking tense and tetchy, concentrated on looking relaxed, his face wreathed in smiles and tolerance. He plumped for a navy blue suit and striped tie, with a secret weapon, a tiny Legion of Honour button, just visible on the lapel. The message: a president-in-waiting.
It was probably worth the effort. In a country of 60 million people, more than 20 million tuned into the debate, more than the tally for last year's World Cup football final when France played Italy.
"The television debate is an obligatory institution in French presidential elections," said Jacques Gertsle, professor of political science and communications at the Sorbonne. "It has become an integral part of people's lives."
Many would go further and say the power of TV has been worrying in this year's campaign, marking another downward notch towards soundbite culture.
There has been fierce discussion over the clout wielded by TF1, the country's most popular channel, which is owned by Martin Bouygues, a tycoon who is a close friend of Sarkozy.
Equally, there has been argument as to whether the country's strict regulations on access to TV airtime go too far. By law, presidential candidates are entitled to equal exposure on television, which meant that in the runup to the first round of voting on April 22, the champion of France's hunting and fishing lobby was allotted the same number of minutes as the Socialists' Royal and the conservative Sarkozy.
Those restrictions have led to farce. Last weekend, Royal and a defeated first-round candidate, centrist Francois Bayrou, tried to stage a TV debate of their own. No mainstream channel would accept them, for to do so meant they would have to hand an hour or more to Sarkozy. As a result, the Royal-Bayrou debate was staged in a hotel banquet room and broadcast by a small, fringe television channel.
The important point, though, was that it had to be on screen. Bayrou, who casts himself as the pithy-talking alternative to the slick-imaged Royal and Sarkozy, had stipulated he would take part in the debate only if it were broadcast, live, on television.
National Front leader Jean-Marie Le Pen adopted the same strategy, appearing at a handful of big, stage-managed rallies and for so-called "media opportunities" where cameras would catch him glad-handing a crowd.
All this may seem deeply worrying for French democracy. But the picture is complex, for television, mighty as its grip is, faces a growing challenge from the internet.
This year has seen an extraordinary surge in online interest. According to a monitoring website (www.observatoire-presidentielle.fr), there are more than 2000 sites on the French elections, comprising official and unofficial party sites, blogs, chatrooms and analysis.
Royal's campaign team claim her official site notched up 23 million hits by the first round of voting; Sarkozy's claims hits of 70,000 visitors each day. Five years ago, such sites were rigid affairs, infrequently updated. They have mutated into fast-growing arenas, with candidates' blogs, forums, audio clips, viral emails and video files.
This is a boon for minority candidates who lack the financial muscle of Royal's Socialist Party and Sarkozy's Union for a Popular Majority (UMP). A pressing of the flesh at a factory in the southwest; a discussion with dairy farmers in the emerald fields of Normandy; a brief policy explanation to the party faithful - all can be quickly fed into a website, providing an image of dynamism and outreach at negligible cost.
Martin Harrison, a political scientist at Britain's Keele University, says France is simply joining a tendency among politicians everywhere to promote image. But, he says, at least the rush towards style over substance has not dampened interest in politics, as has happened in the United States and Britain.
In the first round of the French presidential voting, the turnout was nearly 84 per cent, the highest since 1965. "The last time Britain had over 80 per cent was around 1951," says Harrison.
He adds, however, that the old ways of campaigning for national office in France are clearly disappearing, zapped by the power of the cathode ray.
The days when a presidential candidate would stage a town-hall meeting, do a walkabout in a quiet suburb and don gumboots to impress a handful of rural voters, are going the way of the 2CV and the Gitanes cigarette.
But at the same time, the multiplication of TV channels and the power of the internet are diminishing television's power to deliver the "water-cooler moment" which stimulates mass attention, says Harrison.
Despite the growing focus on image and personality, campaigning in France is more fragmented - and participatory - than ever before.
