By Jonah Goldberg
Friday, June 16, 2017
I used to love crossovers.
A “crossover” is what you call it when a character or
characters from one story shows up in another. Abbot and Costello Meet Frankenstein was a personal favorite of
mine as a kid. By the time I stopped collecting comic books, however,
crossovers had gotten a bit ridiculous. They’d cut across the Marvel Universe
like a four-year-old on a runaway John Deere, going straight through the hedges.
A story would start in an X-Men
title, get picked up in a Spider-Man
title, then go careening into a limited series of Wolverine, before finally concluding in some new comic they were
trying to promote such as Forensic
Accountant Lad.
Movies and TV shows use crossovers to expand the pie of
viewers. If you’re an ardent fan of one show, you’re likely to watch another
show if your favorite characters show up in it. Hence such classics as Steve
Urkel from Family Matters showing up
on Full House or all those He-Man: Masters of the Universe
crossovers with She-Ra: Princess of Power,
not to mention that fantastic made-for-TV movie Hannah Montana Meets Brian Lamb.
Anyway, I got to thinking about crossovers, because I
wanted to pick up where my Friday column left off. And I’ll do that, but now
that I have crossovers in my head, I can’t let that go.
As with Abbot and
Costello Meet Frankenstein, I always liked the big crossovers, when two
seemingly incongruous universes converge. No one cares when the universe of CSI: Miami merges with the universe of CSI: New York. That’s less of a “when
worlds collide” mash-up than a plausible two-hour flight. No, I’m talking about
stuff like Archie Meets the Punisher
or Archie vs. Predator (yes, real
things) or Wonder Pets vs. the Avengers.
But I’m losing my love for crossovers these days because
it feels like we’re living in one. I’m not particularly meme-spirited, but
during the election when things got so impossibly weird and I felt like I was
in a Bodysnatchers remake, I got kind
of caught up in this whole “Earth-2” idea — where politics kept going as it’s
supposed to, according to traditional Earth-logic. John Podhoretz and I have
been dabbling with the idea that maybe Y2K happened after all, but in a way
that was initially invisible to us. As Alice says in that as of yet unwritten
crossover with Star Trek, “We’re all
through the wormhole now.”
Reality World
Well, the Donald Trump presidency is the mother of all
crossovers. The primetime reality-TV universe has merged with the cable-news
universe — and both sides are playing the
part. This is a hugely important point, and one I think my fellow
Trump-skeptics should keep in mind. Take, for instance, that cabinet meeting
where everybody reportedly sucked up to the president. As Andy Ferguson notes,
that’s not really what happened. Reince Priebus did the full Renfield, and so
did Mike Pence, but most of the others played it fairly straight.
Don’t get me wrong: Donald Trump’s need for praise is a
real thing, so much so he has to invent it or pluck it from random Twitter-feed
suck ups. (Remember when he told the AP that “some people said” his address to
Congress “was the single best speech ever made in that chamber”?) So, yeah,
Trump acts like a reality-show character, but much of the political press is
covering him like they’re reality-show
producers.
As I’ve talked about a bunch, the mainstream media
MacGuffinized Barack Obama’s presidency, making him the hero in every
storyline. With Trump, they’re covering the White House like an episode of Big Brother or MTV’s Real World. By encouraging officials to
gossip and snipe about each other and the boss, they too are playing the game.
Much of MSNBC’s and CNN’s coverage feels like it should be called “Desperate
Housewives of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.”
So, when you look at how that cabinet meeting was
covered, it felt less Stalinesque and more like a creepy spinoff of The Bachelor or The Bachelorette or some sure-to-come non-gendered version (working
title, “I Could Be into That”). I kept wanting the anchor to break away to a
confession-cam interview with Mike Pence. If
he doesn’t give me a rose but gives one to Reince, I will be like, “Oh no he
didn’t!”
Meanwhile, Trump’s tweeting seems less like what it is —
the panicked outbursts of narcissist with a persecution complex — and more like
a premise of The Apprentice in which
contestants have to deal with the boss’s rhetorical monkey wrenches. Back in
the West Wing, the producers (who
just finished congratulating themselves for coming up with the crossover idea
of having Apprentice alumnus Dennis
Rodman give Kim Jong-un a copy of The Art
of the Deal) are trying to craft the best possible tweets to get Sean
Spicer to pop a vein in his neck.
How We Got Here
This entire spectacle is the culmination of trends long
in the making. We have been erasing the lines between celebrity culture and
political culture for decades. The Democratic party long ago became a vanity
project for Hollywood activists who wanted to be taken more seriously. Bill Clinton
and Barack Obama both exploited this relationship for their short-term
political advantage, but, in the process, they also blurred and ultimately
obliterated important distinctions. Movie stars — and even Muppets — testified
with increasingly regularity before Congress.
The Oscars and other award shows became showcases for
liberal moral preening and vacuity. Mainstream journalism got into the act. The
rise of TV shout-shows and cable news generally created celebrity journalists
who were only too happy to appear in films, playing themselves. In the 1990s,
insipid magazines such as the short-lived George
treated Washington as “Hollywood for ugly people,” as Paul Begala once put it.
The White House Correspondents’ Dinner, until Trump was elected, was fast on
its way to becoming just another TV show during awards season, complete with
twirls on the red carpet to shouts of “who are you wearing?” The Daily Show under Jon Stewart — the
most literal incarnation of “fake news” possible — won a Peabody for its
“journalism” during the Bush presidency.
Binge Watching
Politics
Many of my angriest Always Trump critics constantly
insist that I lost all my credibility because I believed Trump couldn’t or
wouldn’t win the 2016 election. This is dumb on several levels. First of all,
lots of pro-Trump boosters didn’t think he could win either. Indeed, many on
the Trump campaign were convinced on Election Day that he would lose. Second,
there’s no transitive property here. Being wrong about one thing, doesn’t
automatically mean you’re wrong about everything. If it did, Donald Trump
himself would be in deep trouble, unless, that is, you actually believe he’s
always right about everything. Last, it’s just factually untrue. In May of
2016, I wrote about how Trump could win — and my reasoning was not only sound,
it’s very relevant to this “news”letter. I argued that, just as many liberals
had made Barack Obama the hero of a story in 2008 (and throughout his
presidency), many Americans had done the same thing with Trump.
I think something similar has been
at the root of Trump’s success. I can’t bring myself to call him a hero, but
many people see him that way. Even his critics concede that he’s entertaining.
I see him as being a bit like Rodney Dangerfield, constantly complaining he
doesn’t get enough respect.
Regardless, Trump bulldozed his way
through the primaries in part because the nomination was his MacGuffin and
people wanted to see the movie play out. Many voters, and nearly the entire
press corps, got caught up in the story of Trump — much the same way the press
became obsessed with the “mythic” story of Obama in 2008. People just wanted to
see what happened next . . .
This could be terrible for Clinton.
She began her campaign thinking she could stage a remake of The Obama Story the
way they’re remaking Ghostbusters: same plot, only this time with women. It
doesn’t work that way. Fair or not, the story of Hillary Clinton: First Woman
President isn’t as exciting as Barack Obama: First Black President. And, more
to the point, The Hillary Story is far less entertaining than The Trump Story.
Clinton is boring. She’s as fun as changing shelf paper on a Saturday
afternoon. Meanwhile, who wouldn’t want to see a sequel to “Back to School” in
which the Rodney Dangerfield character becomes president?
As I said during the primaries, I don’t think Democrats
understand the consequences of Trump’s precedent. The GOP has a very thin bench
of celebrities. Scott Baio, Ted Nugent, Nick Searcy, et al. have their charms,
but they’re not Oprah, George Clooney, or Tom Hanks in terms of their cultural
reach and power. If it’s true that in the Year 2000 we slipped through some
dimensional portal where life became a reality show, the story is going to get
a lot weirder long after the Trump Show
goes into syndication.
Wars, Metaphorical
and Real
As I said, I didn’t plan to write about any of this. What
I wanted to do was pick up a point from my Friday column. I concluded the
column on the Alexandria shooting thus:
For decades we’ve invested in the
federal government ever-greater powers while at the same time raising the
expectations for what government can do even higher. The rhetoric of the last
three presidents has been wildly outlandish about what can be accomplished if
we just elect the right political savior. George W. Bush insisted that “when
somebody hurts, government has to move.” Barack Obama promised the total
transformation of America in palpably messianic terms. Donald Trump vowed that
electing him would solve all of our problems and usher in an era of
never-ending greatness and winning.
When you believe — as James Hodgkinson clearly did — that
all of our problems can be solved by flicking a few switches in the Oval
Office, it’s a short trip to believing that those who stand in the way are
willfully evil enemies bent on barring the way to salvation. That belief won’t
turn everyone into a murderer, but it shouldn’t be that shocking that it would
turn someone into one.
In last week’s “news”letter, I addressed my back and
forth with Dennis Prager. Dennis insists that we are in a real civil war, not a
metaphorical one (and as Kevin discusses today, he’s hardly alone). When I
objected to Dennis’s use of the term, he defended it as literally true in a
column headlined “Yes, America is in a Civil War.” But he’s trying to have it
both ways. He says “No, no — it’s really a civil war,” but then defends that
claim by insisting it’s a metaphorical war:
Indeed, Jonah Goldberg in National Review said as much. He denied
that we are in the midst of a civil war on two grounds: One is that it is not
violent, and the other is that we are fighting a “culture war,” not a civil
war.
Whenever I write about the subject,
I almost always note that this Second Civil War is not violent. I never thought
that the word “war” must always include violence.
The word is frequently used in
nonviolent contexts: the war against cancer, the war between the sexes, the war
against tobacco, the Cold War, and myriad other nonviolent wars.
The war on cancer was metaphorical. The war between the
sexes is metaphorical. The term “civil war” is a literal one. And in an actual
war, killing is not only acceptable, it’s mandatory. Look, I get that language
is flexible and I’ve no doubt used the term “war” in diversely interpretable
ways. But if we call today’s hyper-polarized and tribal political and cultural
conflict a “civil war,” then we have no words left for an actual civil war. More to the point, this week’s shooting
demonstrates the difference.
Moreover, I hate metaphorical wars and it’s odd that
Dennis cites my book as evidence for his side. I can’t count how many times
I’ve railed against the concept of the “moral equivalent of war.” Wars,
metaphorical and literal, work on the logic that all other considerations are
secondary to total victory. It assumes that we must all drop our own individual
pursuits and do whatever is necessary to defeat our enemies. And while I want
to “win” political battles as much as anybody, following the logic of war isn’t
how you do it.
Democracy isn’t about war or even unity, it’s about
debate and disagreement. Inherent to the idea of debate and disagreement is
that “combatants” aren’t enemies but opponents — and the way you win is not
through killing or even metaphorically “destroying” your opponents, but by
persuading them or the voters that you’re right. Every day, I’m called a
traitor by those who believe that we are in a civil war, because in a civil
war, disagreement or even inadequate enthusiasm is deemed to be seditious
undermining of the war effort. I am entirely certain that Dennis and the vast
majority of people who have bought into this civil-war thing reject violence.
But the arguments they make have few or no limiting principles against
violence. As Kevin pointed out earlier this week, contrary to conventional
wisdom, the serious Left is in fact worse in this regard than the serious
Right. But I am at a loss as to why we should try to catch up.
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