1991 was an interesting year in American politics — despite it being a non-election year — thanks to one race: the Louisiana gubernatorial election.

Louisiana, in addition to having its elections in off years, had what’s called a jungle primary. All candidates, regardless of party, appeared on the same primary ballot and the top two advanced to the general election.

That year, the incumbent governor, Bobby Roemer, switched parties to run as a Republican for reelection. He faced two opponents: former Democratic governor and suspected felon Edwin Edwards (he was later convicted of fraud) and white supremacist David Duke, running as a Republican. 

Duke claimed (because he was a born-again Christian) that his past comments shouldn’t be held against him. Gosh, does that sound like anyone we know today?

Roemer ended up coming in third in the primary, meaning that Duke and Edwards advanced to the general election. President George H.W. Bush refused to endorse Duke, and Edwards’ supporters used the slogan “Vote for the crook. It’s important”; he went on to easily win the run-off. This election wasn’t a high-minded debate about the issues, but rather one focused on the candidates — it was really about the vibes, in today’s parlance. 

This year, Maine finds itself in a similar position in both the gubernatorial and U.S. Senate races. The issues themselves — at least, so far — have not been hotly debated in the primaries, even with Janet Mills releasing her platform this week.

On paper, in the U.S. Senate race, Mills should be trouncing Graham Platner, who’s never run for office before, has a history of controversial comments online and had to have his Nazi tattoo covered up. Mills, meanwhile, is — if you agree with her politics — a competent, uncontroversial governor who has experience getting things done.

Platner is ahead of her in the polls because many Maine Democrats seemingly don’t care about any of that. They don’t care who’s more experienced or electable, and they don’t care if Platner’s controversial. They simply want someone who will be more progressive, younger and a fighter for their values. While they may not love Graham Platner in particular, they like his vibes, everything else be damned. America has been in this “vibes” era ever since Donald Trump descended the golden escalator — or even before. 

That’s why Mills’ electability argument is, thus far, falling completely flat with Maine Democrats. It’s not simply that many don’t buy the argument, but that the point itself is irrelevant — and they may well be right. After all, back in 2016 when Trump first ran, his Republican opponents attempted to make that argument: that he was simply too controversial and politically inexperienced to defeat someone like Hillary Clinton. Voters didn’t care about that in the primary, and proved the premise faulty again in the general election.

We see a similar pattern playing out in the gubernatorial race on both sides of the aisle. In both parties, there’s not much daylight between the candidates on the issues. Republicans all want to fight crime, cut fraud, cut taxes and reduce the size of government. Democrats all want to expand health care, increase funding for education and spend more on social services. The contrast over the issues will be sharp during the general election, but right now during the primary, they’re not. It’s more about the vibes of the candidates themselves.

This stands in stark contrast to prior election years, even in the primaries. Back in 2010, when Paul LePage first ran for governor, he won in part because he dominated the conservative lane in the primary. Most of the other candidates were more centrist.

Similarly, in recent years when Democrats had competitive primaries, there was an ideological divide as well as one between the candidates themselves. Today, there’s really not the same gap in either party. The Republicans are all conservatives and the Democrats are all liberals. The differences between them are slight, yet they’re miles apart from the other party.

So, in both parties and in both big races, the debate is about the candidates themselves, not their policies. It’s largely a strategic one rather than a policy one, about who’s best positioned to lead their party to victory in November and able to govern after that.

Just as Louisiana did almost 35 years ago, we’re in the middle of an election year where policy just isn’t really relevant — at least not yet. Which candidate best pivots away from that internal debate and toward the issues may well determine who ends up winning this fall.