The gotcha gang has caught Hillary. In last night's debate in Austin, her strongest quip went: "Lifting whole passages from someone else's speeches is not change you can believe in. It's change you can Xerox." She was referring to Barack's failure to credit Duval Patrick for speech lines apparently supplied by David Axelrod, a strategist for both men's electoral campaigns. But in the course of the Texas debate, Senator Clinton managed to channel both John Edwards and her husband, Bill—echoes that instantly found their way onto You Tube.

In itself, the plagiarism is hardly disturbing. Senator Obama was right when he said the attack on him showed that the primary fight had entered its "silly season." But is it telling that the passages Hillary borrowed were among the most emotional—or else the most mawkish—of the responses she provided in the course of the evening? The line from Bill—"You know, the hits I've taken in life are nothing compared to what goes on every single day in the lives of people across our country"—was the peroration of Hillary's account of her visit to a rehabilitation center for injured war vets. The chunk lifted from Edwards followed hard upon, after Clinton said she was honored to share the stage with Obama: "And you know, whatever happens, we're going to be fine. You know, we have strong support from our families and our friends. I just hope that we'll be able to say the same thing about the American people . . ." What does it say about a speaker's authenticity when her most heartfelt lines turn out to be borrowed? How did Hillary's advisors manage to prep her for closing remarks that would, in effect, take her strongest current attack on her rival and turn it back upon herself?

The answer, I imagine, is that the campaign staff is desperate to make Hillary look responsive, genuine, and sincere. The problem she faces is implicit in the defense mounted by Erica Jong, a Clinton supporter, in a recent issue of The New Republic: "I do not find her an automaton. I find her real." Not an automaton—doubtless. But how perceptive and personable is Hillary?

I addressed this issue in 1999, in a review of Gail Sheey's biography of Hillary. Seeing Sheehy, speculatively, fill in emotions Clinton might have felt—but never expressed directly—I wondered whether Hillary might not have a tin ear for social interactions. Often she seems to mistake other people's perspectives; the most terrible example in the Sheehy book concerned Vincent Foster. Sheehy quotes a colleague of Clinton to this effect: “She can talk about the finer points of education policy but not notice her best friend might be suicidally depressed." Even during the famous tear-up in New Hampshire, Clinton focused on her own troubles—and then emerged to repeat stump speech phrases about being ready to lead from day one.

If the electorate disagrees with Jong, if Hillary is perceived as awkward or unlikable, that's problematic, I mean for her prospects in the fall campaign. I know, I know. Nixon appeared desperate, falsely sentimental, and, yes, tricky, and he got elected, twice. So did the current Bush, whom I find unwatchable. That smirk! Reagan may have communicated with other segments of the population. To us Northeast liberals, he appeared all glossy surface. Did the man have an unconscious? Was he capable of reflection or doubt?

But they were Republicans. That party has a different response to stiffness and insincerity in candidates—the presence of those traits seems to "energize the base." Better perhaps to say: while awkwardness is never an asset, at the presidential level it's death for Democrats in a way that it's not for Republicans. Democrats prevail only if they have substantial social skills.