Chris Jones, Tribune News Service

Nearing the climax of Wednesday night’s vice presidential debate in Utah, moderator Susan Page finally arrived at the most important question for America. If President Donald J. Trump refused to accept the duly authenticated results of the election and failed to vacate the White House in a timely fashion, what would then be the role of one Michael Pence, the vice president of the United States and the man standing before her at his podium?

Republican or Democrat, every American over the age of 5, except maybe one, knew the only right answer in their hearts. A good chunk of them probably screamed it right at the television: “To get him out of there.”

That was not Pence’s response. Instead, he paused for just a moment, maybe even deciding to take the plunge. But then he walked away from the diving board, instead waffling on about, “Well, Susan, first and foremost, I think we’re going to win this election.” And so on and so forth. Unbelievable.

Everything about Pence’s very dignified prior record in public service actually points to the likelihood that he would get Trump out of there in such nation-shattering circumstances. Even most partisan Democrats, even his debate opponent Sen. Kamala Harris, do not see Pence, clearly a man who values dignity and honour, as someone willing to lead a country into a militarized civil war.

But Pence wouldn’t, or couldn’t, do it. Are there no Republican strategists who realize that to have done so would have gained his ticket votes? That to have done so did not mean giving up the fight that is their right to wage?

But then, this is not the golden age of respect for structure, even the one that underpins our very democracy.

It can be stipulated that the vice presidential debate, inconsequential as it will likely prove to be, was a vast improvement over last week’s debacle. Instead of a tawdry mud fight, the proceedings resembled a serious and mostly dignified courtroom exchange over matters of weight, replete with an experienced prosecutor in Harris and a fair-minded if harried judge in Page.

Alas, debate judges lack the power of their legal counterparts, they have no sanctions at their command. God knows, they need them.

Thus the refrain of the night: Thank you, Mr. Vice President. Thank you, Mr. Vice President. Thank you, Mr. Vice President. Thank you, Mr. Vice President. Leavened only by: Thank you, Sen. Harris. Thank you, Sen. Harris.

Cut the mics already! It is a mystery why debating politicians insist on going over time, like overeager undergraduates, seemingly believing that whatever additional point they manage to squeeze into the proceedings will improve their performance, even though all the audience actually hears is, well, “thank you (name of candidate)” and is immediately put in mind of their cheating. Cheating. Do they not see this?

Harris, who sinned less, probably saw this as an issue of unadvisable unilateral disarmament. Sure. But it is a fault of the entire political class, the place where overachievers most often reveal their insecurities, even though making people feel secure is actually on the ballot.

This fault has a close cousin in a politician’s tendency to talk down to people. Harris, for example, felt the need to explain not only what it means to be in debt (people know, people know) but the definition of the word “bounty.” Anyone bothering to watch a debate probably knows what it means to have one on your head.

The other pest of the night? A complete refusal to answer the question.

This has its roots in modern media-consultant strategy, adherents of which often hold that the best practice, when being interviewed, is to completely ignore what the interviewer is asking and go ahead and say whatever it is you came to say. It is effective, no doubt, when it comes to CEOs trying to wriggle out of some nefarious corporate act, but when it comes to the second highest office in the land, it should be outlawed. It’s cheating, too. And it’s an enemy of democracy.

Page should have said to both candidates, “But you are not answering the question and, no, that little pivot you just did does not count.”

Or borrow from the courts and allow the opposing candidate to object on the grounds that the answer is nonresponsive (“sustained”). Or cut the mic already.

Debates are looking increasing quaint. Many people now watch them with their partisan Twitter feed open on their knees, ill-advisedly welcoming a monetizable spin room on steroids into every laptop in every home. That’s not great for democracy either.

Twitter and its kin offered much weirdness on Wednesday, including the tops of the tickets, Trump and Joseph R. Biden, acting as twitchy fact-checkers (now there’s a debased term) in real time, alternately carping and boosterish as their agendas demanded. The former used his signature ALL CAPS and his favoured oh-so-subtle language; the latter kept popping up unexpectedly. Some avatar of Harris herself appeared to be tweeting even as her real self spoke behind a podium, another example of nobody trusting anything about any political process anymore. Consultants worry that one candidate in one form is just not enough anymore.

America will recover from all this craziness. The best hope for that came at the very end, when Page said that her final question had been written by a local kid who had come up with a question that most of us retain, even as we age into cynicism. In essence, it goes: “How is all of this nasty divisive screaming and shouting an effective way to lead? Can’t we do better?”

Both candidates brows’ softened and crinkled at the mention of youth, empathic emotions finally making their delayed entries. Harris had the warmest of smiles and the most encouraging and inspiring of responses; Pence seemed to find himself in the moment, speaking richly of the difference between disagreement and hatred and the possibility of real friendship across ideological divides.

It felt like his true self had emerged. It may be called upon again.