A nation like ours, one that does so much to promote democracy worldwide, would do well to spend some of that energy revamping its own democracy. For starters, the way in which we elect our president is straight-up messy.

Early primaries in two states totaling a measly 1.3 percent of the country's population often definitively christen its candidates. Assigning all of a state's votes to one candidate focuses both the issues and the action on a select few swing states and leaves large swaths of the country on the outside of the process looking in. The allocation of votes gives residents of the smallest states a greater say than those in large states. The nation that likes to think of itself as a stronghold of democracy still doesn't have a popular vote for its highest office — confirm with Al Gore or Richard Nixon if you don't believe me.

The worst part, though, is at that the end of this circus we don't even select a president. The quirks and sheer duration of our byzantine system have made campaigning an end unto itself when it should exclusively be a means, and winning the presidency a Machiavellian art only remotely connected to demonstrating one's likelihood of being a good president. By virtue of our nation's obsession with the stump instead of the office that is its aim, we have created a new head of state, elected every four years: The Campaigner in Chief.

You see, I'm convinced — and a recent New York Times editorial by longtime campaign reporter Mark Halperin concurs — that the skill set that makes one a good campaigner for the presidency is wholly different from that which makes one a good president. Yet, as Mr. Halperin correctly notes, "Our political and media culture reflects and drives an obsession with who is going to win, rather than who should win."

Just look at the experience of Barack Obama. The audacious hope that accompanied the announcement of his campaigned fizzled, only to swing back slightly in recent weeks. But why? It's not about the things that would define his presidency, his platform, qualifications and character — little, if anything, has changed or been dramatically revealed on these substantive fronts.

Instead, what you hear both in the media and on the street is, "Well, he hasn't been charismatic enough in debates! He's looked tired at campaign stops. He isn't striking back against Hillary." And this becomes a strange self-fulfilling prophecy in which people who — though they still believe Mr. Obama would make the best president — leave for the best candidate.

These two roles, however, are fundamentally different. A candidate must antagonize — that is, he must create separation between himself and his challengers, and this usually involves undermining them. Policy expertise arguably takes a backseat to "relating" to voters; a charismatic ignoramus can win, but a socially awkward genius doesn't have a chance. Agreement and alliances between candidates are undesirable. A candidate has responsibility only to himself and his campaign, and the end of winning justifies any means he employs.

An American president, on the other hand, has no need to antagonize, for he has no peer in the world. He has the most to gain from building friendships and consensus, both in domestic government and the international community. Presidents spend their days directing the most powerful and intelligent members of society, far from the hoi polloi, and need a sophisticated grasp of a whole host of issues. There is no ultimate end for a president for which the implications aren't important, and there is perhaps no individual in the world with greater responsibility.

George W. Bush has been the greatest beneficiary of our campaign-centered politics. He was a skilled campaigner — he engaged the correct constituencies, defined his vision in a few memorable catchphrases, was confident, planted seeds of doubt about his opponents' abilities — but has proven to be gallingly lacking in presidential ability. He didn't win because he was the best person in the country to serve as president, but because he was one of the best campaigners (ineloquent speech included).

In fact, one could make the case that he has failed precisely because mentally, he has never abandoned his campaign. His attempts to apply loaded catchphrases to global politics haven't translated well; he antagonizes countries and legislators that disagree with his policies, and like a campaigner who speaks of his presidency in the future, rather than the conditional tense, he approached Iraq ostensibly certain of victory, with little regard for the likelihood or implications of defeat.

Reforming the system could help suppress our regrettable tendency to elect Bushian Campaigners in Chief. Requiring candidates to compete in every corner of the country by moving to a popular vote would better test their mastery of the entire spectrum of presidential issues. Shorter campaign cycles and a moratorium on early primaries would likely reduce the effect of strategists.

The media, too, should tone down its incessant coverage and critique of campaign activity. Instead of endless updates about money spent or signs posted by campaign staffers in some Iowa Podunk, it'd be nice to have more stories on how these anointed ones would operate as the official most powerful person on the planet.

But, as demonstrated by the lack of a mass movement for a popular vote and a reform of the Electoral College in the aftermath of the 2000 election, ours is a pretty complacent society about our government. Our appetite for campaign coverage also seems insatiable. 

So, in the case that we can't create systematic change, we can at least think differently.  Everything a candidate does in the course of campaigning should be assessed based on how it relates to the presidency per se, and I think, upon deconstructing the spectacle that is the stump, we'd realize how much of it doesn't relate in the slightest.

John Sprangers (sprangers@wisc.edu) is a senior majoring in political science and international studies.