The Blame Game
However, Kevin Drum has a post worth taking a look at as we are tempted to blame the media for subjecting us to this story for the past week.
Keeping a mirror handy is always a good rule of thumb when playing the blame game.
Not short, frenzied outbursts of emotion, but the tranquil and steady dedication of a lifetime.
I've tried being proactive. But none of the locals I've talked to about bringing in a co-op health-food grocery store have seemed excited at all. Nor have I gotten any of them to take part in my community open-house idea for hip young people to come see what this neighborhood is capable of. What did they do instead? They had a barbecue. With very loud music.
I mean, I don't want the people here to leave. I just want them to stay inside more. Especially if they're not going to do anything to bring this community to life. But they're always out on their stoops, just playing dominoes or talking. I like talking, but I do it inside, where it was meant to be done. It makes me uncomfortable to have people watching me all the time. Not that I think they'd do anything, but I just like to be a little more private.
This is actually a really sharp example of how "community change" efforts happen in cases where even people with the best intentions fail to take into account the value and power of local voices.
An article entitled “Political Ignorance Revisited” by Professor Steven Earl Bennet was examined by Steve Winship (and came to my attention by way of Matthew Yglesias) after appearing in the new online journal Public Opinion Pros, which deals, unsurprisingly, with issues and methodology in public opinion.
Overall the piece is a familiar lament of the ignorance of the American issues regarding issues of public policy and knowledge of public figures, especially among the young. Bennet goes as far to state that the young’s “apathy and political ignorance do not bode well for the future of democracy.”
What troubles me most when I read studies and finding like this is not the ignorance of the public about politics and public issues (though admittedly the numbers can seem a bit grim), but rather the tremendous ignorance of public opinion professionals, political operatives, and politicians themselves about the public.
Take for example the following passage:
The 2004 ANES (American National Election Study) also showed that strong partisans, intense ideologues, and, especially, those who are very interested in politics are much more informed than their opposites, even when other factors affecting information are considered. But attachment to parties has weakened, most Americans are not ideologues, and many are apathetic.
Attachment to parties has weakened, that’s true, but so has attachment to various other civic and community organizations, as writings by Robert Putnam and Theda Skopol suggest. What we are witnessing is not simply a turning away from the public issues, but from the very notion of the public.
Which brings me to the idea of apathy. To suggest that apathy plays a role in people’s ignorance of the major political issues of the day is to suggest that people don’t care about the education of their children, their ability to receive health care, or their own personal security or well being. Anyone who has spent any amount of time listening to their friends and neighbors knows that people are concerned about these things – they may not dwell on them obsessively, but they certainly have concerns and opinions.
There is a growing body of qualitative research that has been spearheaded by my former colleagues at The Harwood Institute, and supported in large part by the Kettering Foundation, that shows that people do care deeply about these issues, but they are unable to see how the political debates of the day and the rhetoric deployed by political leaders relate to their concerns. (A good primer on the evolution of these attitudes over the past 15 years can be found in the book Hope Unraveled: The People’s Retreat and Our Way Back). Rather than apathy, anger, lament, or, in some cases quiet resignation would be more apt descriptions.
We can see a glimmer of recognition of the fundamental disconnect between the personal and public dimensions of these issues toward the conclusion of the article, when Bennett is discussing James Fishkin’s proposed “deliberative polls” as a remedy for both apathy and ignorance.
The 2004 ANES found, for example, that persons who reported discussing politics with family and friends were significantly better informed than those who eschewed political talk.
Anyone who is familiar with how people talk about public issues (pollsters a rule aren’t because they usually elicit responses, not discussion) know that when people talk about their friends and family about local education issues, for instance, they don’t usually see it as political talk. I would think because of that the number of people who self-reported talking about politics is much lower than the number of people who actually discuss public issues, which are undeniably political, with their family and friends.
Surely, people need to take responsibility for knowing about public issues and how they are affected by them. Such understanding strengthens our democracy and the health of our political process. It is misguided to think that “the public” is alone responsible. The media tends to cover partisanship rather than public issues, reporting on the inside baseball of politics rather than the implications of policy, and political leaders too rarely ground their rhetoric in a reality that resonates with the personal concerns that people face every day. Until we all start reconciling personal concerns with public issues, we will continue to fall further away from any sort of coherent public discourse and we will continue to breed the anger and frustration that is so often labeled “apathy”.
So, does anyone have any suggestions for how we get back on the right path?
... I do believe that moderates fail themselves -- and thus the public --
in their inability to articulate a values-based vision of their views; to tap
into and exhibit passion; to stand tall and make an arugment for moving in a
particular direction.
I’ve been reminded a lot recently about the importance of humor in one’s personal life. For me it’s always been an easy way to defuse a potentially tense situation, liven up an excruciating meeting, or simply get a reaction out of someone. While this type of humor can be an antidote to a distressing situation, humor in public life is often more like a stick of dynamite. It can be useful, but it must be handled carefully.
In the wake of September 11th, the death of irony was declared in the same breath as the rebirth of patriotism. Two weeks later, The Onion ran the headline “American Life Turns into Bad Jerry Bruckheimer Movie.” Thankfully, irony and humor were still alive and well. Humor can help us make through even the darkest days, both in our private and our public lives. As the Pope said in an interview this week, “I'm not a man who constantly thinks up jokes. But I think it's very important to be able to see the funny side of life and its joyful dimension and not to take everything too tragically.”
As I see it there are three distinct types of humor that most often come into play in public life: communal humor (we’re all laughing together), self deprecation (you’re laughing with me), and ridicule (you’re laughing with me at someone else). There is space for all three, but before any of them should be attempted, you had better be sure you know which one you’re striving for.
Communal humor is probably the most benign of these three. Think of this as telling a joke at the beginning of a speech or presentation to break the ice, get the audience laughing and relaxed. Communal humor is also found at public performances, including theater and film, where you get to share laughter with a group of strangers. Of course, as anyone who has ever performed knows, comedy is hard to pull off, so even communal humor should be handled with care. Those with highly attuned senses of humor often venture in the second type of humor, self-deprecation, when attempting to break the ice.
Self-deprecation is one of the most effective types of humor in the political arena. It humanizes political leaders, and connects them to whatever audience they are trying to reach. In recent years, Ronald Reagan was the standard-bearer for self-deprecation, using it effortlessly to great effect. Self-deprecation is so powerful because it demonstrates one of the most important (and rare) qualities of a leader – humility. A willingness to laugh at one's self, and in the process admit one’s shortcomings, can both defuse criticism and show honesty.
Finally, there is ridicule. By ridicule, I do not mean simply being mean or insulting to someone else, but rather using humor to expose faults in the logic of an opponents argument, or expose hypocrisy. Despite my desire to see issues-based campaigns that are free from ad-hominem attacks, I believe that ridicule of this kind does have a place in public life. One of the most memorable uses of ridicule in the public arena was the late Lloyd Bensen’s quip that Dan Quayle was “no Jack Kennedy.” Obviously, this is a bit of a fine line, that same year Texas Governor Anne Richards brought down the house at the Democratic National Convention by saying that George Bush was “Born with a silver foot in his mouth.” I would say this extended beyond the bounds of ridicule and was simply an attack, no matter how big of a laugh it got.
Which brings me to Senator George Allen of Virginia. By now I’m sure many of you are aware that the during a campaign appearance in southern Virginia, Allen pointed out S.R. Sidarth, who was videotaping the appearance on behalf of Allen’s opponent Jim Webb. He called Sidarth, who is Indian-American, “macaca” and welcomed him to “America and the real world of Virginia”. You can see the video here.
Clearly, Allen was going for a moment of communal humor, but ended up venturing into the realm of ridicule, falling short and ending up in that abyss where failed jokes go die. Only, in Allen’s case this failed attempt at humor has come back to haunt him in a big way. Initially, no one was quite sure what to make the “macaca” comment, but everyone seemed to sense that it “sounded vaguely racist.” The origins of this word have been traced back to a type of monkey (which accompanied most initial reports), to the fact that it is a slur used to refer to native north Africans by Europeans (Allen’s mother is from Tunisia), to an explanation that the word is a mash-up of “Mohawk” and “caca” (you all can do the math on that one). Allen eventually apologized, not necessarily for the comment itself, but to anyone who was offended by the media’s misinterpretation of his comment.
Of course, the irony here is that Allen has now opened himself up for some genuine ridicule for this remark. Leaving aside the question of whether the remark was racist, Allen (who was born in California) welcoming Sidarth (who is a native Virginian) to Virginia is certainly grounds for some arrows of ridicule to be slung his way.
The Daily Show is the most well known purveyor of such ridicule, and its sharp wit has thrust host Jon Stewart into the political spotlight. Stewart’s humor flies in the face of the “fair and balanced” news media, who often are so concerned about appearing biased that they temper any criticism of a particular party with the assertion that the other side is in some way guilty as well. He surely has a liberal bent to his personal politics, but in his humor he looks for the best laugh regardless of party. The Daily Show’s send ups of the politics of sound bites is some of the sharpest coverage I've seen of partisanship over the past few years – lining up dozens of spokespeople repeating the same lines word for word on the Sunday talk shows, or the subtle change in the language of Iraq war supporters from “Stay the course” to “Adapt and win.” When Stewart is at his best, he doesn't actually make jokes, he simply sets the stage and let the clips speak for themselves.
Stewart succeeds because he tempers his ridicule with a healthy dose of self-deprecation, and reaches for our common frustrations with political leaders in an effort to create some communal humor out of the partisan divide. In the battle to reclaim a healthy public life, this is a valuable weapon, and hopefully through the common places of humor, well used, we can start laughing more and more with each other rather than simply at others.
For the media, "moderate" becomes a label for anyone who doesn't cleanly conform to our preconceived narrative of Red-Blue division. Lieberman certainly transcended our traditional notions of Red and Blue, and for that he has my respect, but despite moderating his position on some issues when running for the Vice Presidency (such as school vouchers) I would never mistake him for a moderate.
Am I guilty of some kind of "terror apathy", only caring about terrorism after an attack rather than after an attack is thwarted, staying warmly ensconced in my false sense of security? While I certainly would have had a much different reaction had the news been of an attack, I still care about terrorism, even though my first responses this morning were of a more selfish nature. I recognize the danger that terrorism poses to me, especially living in the DC metro area, and certainly care about the risks it poses to my family and friends. I would say that makes me far from apathetic.
Upon closer inspection, I think my apparant "apathy" stems from a fundamental shift in how I look at the threat of terrorism. As i see it, terrorism is no longer primarily the tool of the terrorists designed to topple the American regime and force radical Islam onto the West, but rather the tool of political leaders to score points and claim the national security high ground in an election year (and it's always an election year in this day and age). So, for me this morning the thought of what this news was going to mean in the political arena trumped the idea that 10 planes could have been brought down and hundreds of people killed.
When looking at the larger picture, I don't feel that my response was so unjustified. No matter how many planes terrorists bring down, or how many bombs they detonate, the American Republic will stand. Even a nuclear blast in a major metropolitan area, a tragedy surely, would not topple the United States.
In contrast, the corrosiveness of the rhetoric surrounding the war on terror - especially the use of fear as a political bludgeon does pose a direct threat to the country as it prevents a real and robust debate on the best way to secure our homeland from ever occuring. The true threat of terrorism does not come from without, but from within, and it is a threat that is being fanned by the partisan hackery that passes for political discourse. Tolerating demagoguery only leads to more demagogues, and demagogues are antithetical to the ideals upon which our founding principles rest.
I’m not sure where we can step in to break the current cycle, but I’m certainly open to suggestions.
Marshall and Sullivan seem to be on the right track here. I really wish I could have found something worth praising in the NR pieces because their writing is usually very insightful, but the pieces all seem to echo the conventional wisdom about Democrats that has become the centerpiece of recent Republican campaigns. For example, NRO's own Mona Charin adds this:
He never represented a wing of the Democratic party. He had no noticeable influence upon his colleagues. The Democratic party is what it is — a foolish, demagogic, head-in-the-sand, appeasing party. Nothing that happens in Connecticut will affect that very much.
While I agree that nothing that happened in Connecticut will affect very much on a large scale, painting the rejection of Lieberman as some sort of "appeasement" is a gross distortion of the root cause of Lieberman's downfall - Lieberman himself.
During the Clinton impeachment Lieberman was hailed as the "conscience of the Democratic party" and has always been a poster child for Democrats' acceptance of people of faith. To my eye, it seems as though Lieberman embraced these distinctions and took them to an extreme conclusion - that he was morally superior not just to the party as a whole, but to the Democratic voters in Connecticut. Feelings of superiority don't sit well with invividuals who are made to feel inferior, but perhaps Lieberman will now be free to turn that moral superiority on a system seen as morally bankrupt by those same voters he alienated.
In his "concession" speech, Lieberman decried the fact that, "the old politics of partisan polarization won today," and vowed to fight against those forces as an independent candidate. I am anxious to see what tone his campaign takes in what is sure to be a heated contest. If he can truly tap into people's frustration with partisanship and political gamesmanship, I believe he has a good chance at reclaiming his Senate seat. However, in a race as contentious and heated as this is sure to be, living up to that lofty goal will be a tall order.
Lieberman has shown himself to be a good man, and a decent, principled, public servant. Those principles led to decisions and positions that did not sit well with Democratic primary voters. That is often the price you pay for being principled. I'm anxious to see if Lieberman has the courage to stick to his principles in the general election. If he does, and he wins, that will have implications more far reaching than any primary defeat.