NEWTON'S LAW: DON'T CRY FOR ME, POLITICIANS: A CONVOLUTED SYSTEM OF IMAGE

The subject is tears. More specifically, it is the merit or dishonor they bring to politicians. Our democracy embraces all forms of debate; it is a bit embarrassing, however, that this matter is now given a national forum.

Almost all persons are physically capable of crying. Tears are produced by lachrymal glands, which are activated in times of eye distress or extreme emotion.

A speck of dust drifts into your eye and tear ducts secrete liquid to bathe away the problem. It is God's own Murine, a miraculous and marvelous invention.

A lover breaks your heart and the eyes react in like manner, only with sobbing and recriminations added.

This glandular activation is more pronounced for some people than others. When Tammy Faye Bakker would cut loose with a good bawl, buckets were needed to handle the mascara-stained flow. They were lucrative tears; the more she cried, the more robust the PTL's coffers became.

John Wayne, on the other hand, made a tidy salary by never getting so much as misty-eyed on the big screen. It would not do for the Duke to burst into tears over battlefield deaths or cattle drive hardships.

None of this is to imply tears are a gender-exclusive resource, which is, in fact, at the heart of the current debate. Here is the question: Are female political candidates enjoined from shedding a tear on the campaign trail while their male counterparts are absolved for doing the same thing?

Interesting question, and one enlivened last week by U.S. Rep. Patricia Schroeder of Colorado. Schroeder, you might recall, choked with tears in September 1987 when announcing she would not seek the Democratic nomination for president.

There were critics aplenty to scold her for letting loose her emotions. They contended Schroeder's tears strengthened the argument that the Oval Office is no place for a woman.

Schroeder, four years along now, is sharp of tongue and memory. On the House floor Friday, she took President Reagan to task for his tearful remarks to the Southern Baptist Convention the day before.

"Since the press pilloried me for shedding some tears as I got out of the presidential race in 1987, I have kept a crying file," the lawmaker told her colleagues. "As of (Thursday), President Bush joined it."

Her other remarks displayed some political vindictiveness and more than a few grains of truth.

"The good news for men is crying is a badge of courage," Schroeder said. "The bad news is that for women it's still a scarlet letter. I think when we look at women (in public office) we think, ~`Will she cry?' And, now, when we look at male candidates, we think, `Can he cry?' And if he can, that's great."

Understand first that the representative's comparison in this instance is off the mark. When Bush wept before the Baptists, it was as a former fighting man and commander-in-chief showing empathy for comrades in arms. When Schroeder broke down in 1987, it was over a career decision.

The two cases are not analogous. But the point is well-taken.

Even in this age of purported enlightenment, women will be held to different standards than men in seeking positions of power. The story is familiar in the business world: the aggressive male is viewed with awe and the aggressive female is viewed with contempt. One will be called hard-driven and the other called a bitch.

This is amplified in the world of politics, where (apologies to Andre Agassi) image is everything. Imagemakers impose on candidates behaviors that are meant to conform with supposed voters' tastes.

Despite her rhetoric, Schroeder has a book of personalized political strategy, prepared by assorted hired han~d~lers, that contains this phrase: "No more tears." You can bet on it. It is a reality of modern politics.

Sad but true, the American public gets what imagemakers want us to see, while imagemakers make these decisions based on what they think the public wants to see. Any genuine emotion gets bogged down in this convoluted system.

We should shed a tear for such politicians, who seem to have little say about when they do so.