"Daniel Patrick Moynihan was a great minder of Senate traditions and a stirring elected intellectual, perhaps Washington's last. But he sponsored no major legislation, was not the prophet he thinks he was--and never learned the difference between being right and being effective."

So begins Jacob Weisberg's latest New York Times Magazine feature on Senator Moynihan, an article whose depth of thought and research is matched only by its extraordinary levels of personal attack. The quote above is representative: Perhaps the issue of legislation can be verified, but notes on the Senator's thoughts on his own behavior represent significant presumptions for a reader of any political leaning.

Weisberg's feature is a particularly pointed example of a genre of opinion journalism which has reached its height in the modern press' critique of government in general and the portrayal of our 2000 presidential candidates in particular. Under the guise of determining the candidates' "character," article upon article has forgone empirical defense or attack for a far more troubling series of far-reaching generalizations about the candidate as a human being.

These are opinions, yes, but more importantly, opinions unashamedly masquerading as fact; and it is this last metamorphosis that has marked this season's discussions and dissections of Character. The usual yellow journalism--facts told selectively and with an opinionated bias--has instead become a kind of soft war in which the authors' and commentators' personal feelings about the candidates are given precedence and a slightly factual spin.

Consider the following: Everyone I know has an opinion about the candidates' character--about their personalities, morals, ethics and social graces--and yet I doubt that half of this opinionated population could name a single policy, decision, bill or assignment either candidate has held, made or signed with any specificity. Somehow, the media has managed to send us a very clear message of character in such a compelling and convincing way that the average American steers happily clear of evidence.

And this is problematic not simply for our democratic participation but also for our pretensions of empiricism, for our ability to distinguish facts. Our digest-happy modern world has taught us to accept news, facts and truth abstracted and condensed to such a level that nothing but opinion remains.

Clich: The integrity of the press depends on its keeping a clear line between editorial and factual content. Opinions, like this one, must be carefully labeled and set aside so that the reader may rest assured the rest is fact. Often, it is precisely the guise of unbiased reporting which skews the truth in problematic ways. Currently, though, the average American--watching 30 minutes of evening news each day--will have, as regards the candidates, little truth to skew.

How does one report and calculate character? (I exempt the immediate answer of mathematicians, who are experts at calculating characters and often construct complicated tables for this very reason.) I'm not critiquing the subtle bias of reported facts so much as their general absence. Put simply, the sheer intangibility of the issue is no excuse for an intangibility of evidence.

Of course facts mean nothing without interpretations, that is, without opinions. This statement (this fact?) is, arguably, the basis of the American criminal justice system: The idea that motive is everything, that two people caught in the midst of the same criminal action could have been acting for entirely different reasons and should be therefore punished differently. It's an admirable kind of liberalism and critical for democracy. But it does give rise to a curious kind of preempting as we put our political candidate's characters on trial against crimes which they may, in the future, commit.

It's understandable that we should want to ferret out the deepest motives and incongruities of the people we choose to represent the nation. But the public search for intangibles has led not to intangibility at all, and instead, to a series of soft "facts"--a tearful hug, a passionate kiss, a supporter who has traveled the country to be here tonight--meant to stand in its stead.

Facts are nothing without opinions. But this should not mean that opinions, molded and sufficiently hardened, should be allowed to substitute for facts. Nor should any serious democrat allow "character" to be transmitted ineffably from podium across the smog-ridden cities and cornfields of America and directly into the voting booths without so much as a piece of evidence to help its way.

What is important to keep in mind is that there is no such thing as evidence of character: There is simply evidence, and there will always be more. Were there an act whose performance would provide irrefutable evidence of impeccable character, you can be sure that every New York parent would have their child on a waiting list to do it. Until then, verify.

Maryanthe E. Malliaris '01 is a mathematics concentrator in Lowell House. Her column appears on alternate Mondays.