By David French
Friday, June 01, 2018
The older I get, the more firmly I’m convinced of a
fundamental psychological fact. We never really leave high school. Of all the
forms of pressure that one can apply to a person — political pressure, market
pressure, moral pressure — the one that matters most of all is the one that
mattered in the lunch room when you were wearing your class ring and letter
jacket. It’s peer pressure, the unbreakable bond of the high-school clique.
No reasonable person thinks Samantha Bee would still have
a job at TBS if she used the same terrible language to insult Chelsea Clinton or
Michelle Obama. No reasonable person believes that MSNBC would stick with a
conservative for so long in the face of anything like the steady drumbeat of
outrageous revelations (excused, in part, by dubious claims of hacking) about
Joy Reid’s old work.
From the outside, looking in, the easy explanation is to
simply say that it’s pure ideology. Progressives are more forgiving of fellow
progressives. They’ll look for reasons to excuse their behavior when, if the
tables turn, they’ll look for reasons to magnify their opponent’s offense.
Yesterday, I was a guest on Wisconsin Public Radio, and a caller challenged my
comparison of Roseanne’s racist tweet and Bee’s grotesque expletive by saying
that Roseanne was calling back to centuries of oppression. Yet, as my colleague
Charlie Cooke notes today, if Sean Hannity had used the same language as Bee
did, it would be cast as The Handmaid’s
Tale come to life, reflecting some sort of deep-seated conservative desire
to subjugate the female body.
Yes, ideology is part of the equation, but only part.
Combine ideology with culture and culture with relationships, and you get not
just an ideologically uniform peer environment, but also one that is bonded by
deep friendship and shared history. Human nature locks in powerfully.
This is how you understand corporate activism. This is
how you understand media double standards. When conservatives cry foul and
demand accountability for Samantha Bee or Joy Reid, they’re communicating with
executives and colleagues who have known and liked “Samantha” and “Joy” for
years.
When you see corporations launch into political activism,
that’s not a market-tested response to the popular will. More often than not,
it’s an expression of collective executive purpose, reinforced by the applause
of spouses and friends — the people who matter most in any person’s life.
When you see a publication like The Atlantic jettison Kevin Williamson within days of a
controversial revelation — and then watch its editor-in-chief declare that he’d
“die” for writer Ta-Nehisi Coates, a man who’s written his share of heartless
words — you’re watching a high-school-level morality play. We love our cliques.
We have little patience for the out-group, and we can always reason backwards to justify our bias.
I remember my days teaching at Cornell Law School. I
liked my colleagues a great deal. They were some of the kindest and more considerate
people that I’d ever worked with, but as one of the only conservatives on the
faculty (perhaps the only social conservative), I knew that I was working
against a set of presumptions, and the ice beneath my feet was thinner than the
ice beneath my colleagues. I’ll never forget one of the toasts at my going-away
party just before I returned to private practice.
“To David French, the person who taught me that
conservatives are human.”
Progressives talk a great deal about privilege, and it’s
a concept worth exploring. But it’s a concept worth exploring fully. At elite
levels of American society there exists a very real progressive peer privilege.
It doesn’t attach to the broader Democratic public. It doesn’t attach to the
average black man or woman on the street. It doesn’t attach to the average
Hispanic or Asian immigrant. But once you break into the academy, the
boardroom, or the newsroom, then you are in.
The ramifications extend far beyond political double
standards. Why did it take so long for the #MeToo revelations to burst onto the
American scene? There’s no single reason, but the power of the peer bond
contributed to the conspiracy of silence. Why are people often so blind to
their own biases? It’s hard to see your own flaws and mistakes when basking in
peer praise or uniting in bonds of friendship to oppose the out-group.
Time and again, conservatives fight cultural battles —
against, say, progressive corporate censorship — that were truly lost a
generation ago. They were lost in the admissions committees and internship
programs that don’t just define the new generation of leaders, they forge
powerful friendships. They create shared purpose.
Yes, you can win here and there — when the market
pressure is great enough or when the peer group fractures under the strain of
its own corruption — but don’t think for one moment that you can drain this
swamp. You can create your own competing institutions (subject to their own
peer-group problems), or you can ultimately try to be the swamp. Young conservatives can take the steps today that
will help them win battles that are a quarter-century away.
On that front, there’s hope. A decade ago, when I spoke
to conservative law students, I noticed a troubling trend. At school after
school, virtually every student I encountered expressed an interest in becoming
a professional conservative or a professional Christian — working for activist
groups and politicians to win elections and change the law.
Now, I see a much broader range of interests. Students
want to be on the board of the next Facebook or become general counsel for the
next Google. Or they want to write screenplays for the next Batman reboot. In
other words, they want to change the peer group so that it’s not exclusively
progressive. It’s a hard road, one fraught with temptations to conform, but the
Left’s long march through cultural institutions can be countered by a long
march of our own.
Simply put, if life is high school — and, sadly, it often
is — we need more conservatives in more cliques. It’s the best path towards
meaningful cultural change.
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