By Kevin D. Williamson
Tuesday, November 02, 2021
A request from the vast, endless digital peanut gallery:
“I’d love to see a National Review contributor try to explain
why it is that for 15 years the stereotypical anti-vaxxer was a progressive
suburban mom in an ultra-blue district but at no point did any major Democratic
politician try to court their support the way Republicans have.”
That’s a fair question, and the answer, in a word,
is: respectability.
The Democrats have won it and weaponized it, and the
Republicans have consequently rejected it.
The Democrats have successfully aligned themselves with
the most prestigious and powerful social institutions — Silicon Valley, Wall
Street, the Ivy League, the New York Times — and they have, in
turn, aligned these institutions with themselves and their ambitions.
Republicans, for their part, have largely rejected these elite institutions
(you can smell the sour grapes from here) along with the entire notion that
such elite institutions should enjoy any special status or deference, adopting
instead a countercultural politics that is, in spite of its right-wing
character, a great deal like the left-wing countercultural politics of the
1960s. The student radicals who occupied the university administration offices
would have loved to have done what that rabble did on January 6, but they did
not have sufficient strength to occupy the Capitol — only the Lincoln Memorial, where they were visited by a solicitous
Richard Nixon.
The hippies and their political allies were neck-deep in
filth and dysfunction, high on radicalism, and up to their eyeballs in various
kinds of antiscientific quackery. The Democratic Party, at the time, made some
considerable room for this, having no other practical choice.
But that was then. The Democratic Party is well on the
other side of its “Sistah Souljah moment.”
In their current configuration, the Democrats and their
progressive leaders practice respectability politics, a politics of in-group
affiliation expressed mainly through etiquette and socially necessary gestures
of loyalty. Their main — and sometimes, their only — political strategy is
based on status games, working to humiliate (and thereby effectively discredit)
their opponents and rivals by associating them with low-status people and
low-status ways of life rather than trying to persuade them or best them in
argument.
That’s useful to the Left, which isn’t going to win a lot
of intellectual arguments because its only big idea, socialism, has been
thoroughly discredited by historical experience, while most of the successor
ideas are either transparent adaptations of socialism (greenwashed radical
anti-capitalism, etc.) or too narrow and boutique-y and bourgeois
(intersectionality, neo-Maoist corporate struggle sessions, etc.) to provide
the basis for a robust popular political movement.
But you don’t really need ideas or good arguments to
build a political party or a political movement — you only need enemies. And
your enemies should be people of low status. (That doesn’t necessarily mean
poor or powerless — wealthy business leaders may be denounced as “unpatriotic,”
as moral degenerates, or as “enemies of the people” in order to lower
their moral status, and whatever financial success they have
achieved may be discredited by claiming that they got ahead through corruption,
cheating, and a “rigged economy.”) If they do not already have low status, then
you work to lower their status. Donald Trump, kept on the outside by elite
institutions, had to rely on sneering Twitter nicknames and such to do that.
Democrats, in contrast, have a generous selection of prestigious institutions
to deputize for their dirty work.
Our friends on the left routinely admit as much. From
time to time, someone will demand of me: “Why should the New York Times publish
conservatives? National Review doesn’t publish progressives!”
Setting aside for the moment the fact that National Review has
published many progressive writers over the years when they have something to
say that conservatives might be interested in reading, National Review is
an explicitly conservative magazine, one that exists mainly to give a voice to
conservative views for the benefit of conservative readers. That line of
criticism is persuasive only if the New York Times is
precisely what the New York Times insists it is not: a
progressive cultural possession, rather than what it pretends to be: a
general-purpose newspaper without an enforced orthodoxy. Because of the
prestige enjoyed by such institutions, the orthodoxy they enforce becomes
nearly synonymous with respectability itself.
The point of policing the borders of respectability
(which is what social-media “social justice” warriors spend their days doing)
is to draw the lines in such a way as to put your enemies outside of them. It
doesn’t have to make sense morally or politically, which is why the Taliban is
welcome on Twitter while Donald Trump isn’t. The Taliban doesn’t matter to
progressives, and Donald Trump does. In a period when all policy, including
foreign policy, is held hostage to parochial domestic politics, that sort of
bizarre outcome is inevitable. This is politics-as-consumerism: Not, “What do I
want the government to do?” but, “What do my political affiliations say about
me as a person, and how do they affect my social standing?”
Democrats and their allies now control most of the
high-status institutions. And that is a lot more valuable in terms of practical
political power than is ginning up a few votes from cranks — especially when
those cranks are probably going to vote for you, anyway, irrespective of
whether you indulge their crankiness. To take one ugly example: There is a good
deal of anti-Semitism among left-leaning African Americans, and it is
particularly visible in the Democratic machine politics of cities with large
black populations, such as Philadelphia. And while the Democratic Party may not
be as assertive as it could be in counteracting the anti-Semitism of elected
Democrats such as Representative Ilhan Omar of Minnesota, it isn’t going to
take up anti-Semitism, and it wouldn’t even if there weren’t a lot of decent
Democrats out there with strong moral objections to it. That’s because Democratic
vote counters know that anti-Semites of the Ilhan Omar variety are going to
vote for them, anyway, whereas embracing anti-Semitism would cost them many
votes, not only among Jews but among non-Jewish people who would not want to be
associated with an anti-Semitic party.
Democrats work tirelessly to paint the Republican Party
as racist for the same reason: not to deprive the GOP of its black support,
which is practically nonexistent, but to make the GOP socially repugnant to
white suburbanites and professionals who might agree with Republicans about
taxes or foreign policy but who would not want to be associated with a
disreputable social group or to be seen being associated with such a group. And
in spite of all you hear about “white supremacy,” there is nothing as
disreputable in the United States as naked racism. To be a declared racist is
to be cut off from polite society.
But status games go in two directions.
The Democratic Party is full of people who couldn’t pass
a sophomore astronomy class but proclaim themselves the votaries of “science!” because “science!” enjoys a great deal of
prestige, and that prestige is transferable: “Science!
says we should be adopting these tax policies and manufacturing regulations.”
This is also a useful way of ending unwelcome debate (“Science! has spoken!”) or pretending that questions
involving competing social priorities and economic tradeoffs can be settled
empirically and objectively.
To put it another way: The Democrats, including prominent
figures such as former senator Tom Harkin of Iowa, may be indulgent of some pretty crackpot stuff from time to time (the
so-called Affordable Care Act gives official blessing to a lot of indefensible
pseudoscience, such as homeopathic medicine), but they didn’t do much to court
pre-COVID anti-vaxxers because there wasn’t anything in it for them.
Contemporary Republicans go out of their way to accommodate COVID-era
anti-vaxxers (and please do spare me the BS about being only “anti-mandate”)
and Ivermectin cranks and iodine-gargling crackpots for the same reason:
because it is, for the moment, good politics.
Ritual humiliation is the foundation of our politics on
both sides, but the Democrats and the Republicans go at it in different ways:
the Democrats from a position of institutional power, the Republicans from the
position of a marginalized group.
Allow me to change the scene, briefly.
There is a line that runs through conventional politics,
fringe politics, conspiracy theories, and quackery — all of them begin with the
idea that there is something wrong with the world, and that it is related to
the wrong people having power, which is another way of saying “high status.”
People often make the journey across that spectrum, from one end to the other:
Cranks sometimes become mainstream politicians, and mainstream politicians
(and, especially, writers and activists) very often end up as cranks.
Professional success and failure are key players here: Celebrity neutered the
radical Slavoj Žižek, while failure made a good and true crackpot out of Robert
Kennedy Jr., one of those formerly prominent Democratic anti-vaxxers whose existence
now is studiously ignored by his fellow partisans.
Medical quackery and political activism are longtime
intimates. Consider the political career of Mohandas K. Gandhi — and here I
mean the actual Indian activist, not the numinous saint Ben Kingsley played in
that inspiring Richard Attenborough movie.
Gandhi’s first real interest in public affairs was not
Indian political independence or the injustice suffered by Indians in South
Africa (let us charitably pass over, for the moment, the fact that he was not
very much interested in the treatment of black South Africans, and that his
main complaint was that Indians were being treated like blacks, which he thought
unjust), or anything that conventionally political: It was diet.
As attested to in his autobiography, The Story of
My Experiments with Truth, dietary-reform programs were the principal
fascination of the young Gandhi, and the fervor never left him. But his program
at first was the opposite of what you might expect: He meant to convert
vegetarian Hindus into meat-eaters, believing that doing so would make them
stronger and more assertive, both individually and nationally. He soon changed
his mind about that, and his first foray into political organization was with
English vegetarian clubs during his student days.
Gandhi’s first real participation in a public political
conflict came while he was serving on the executive committee of the Vegetarian
Society, whose president and principal financial backer proposed to expel
committee member Thomas Allinson, a physician, journalist, and prominent
vegetarian activist, because Allinson also supported the birth-control
movement, which was considered by many people, including many vegetarian
activists, to be immoral. Allinson was in fact prosecuted under English
obscenity laws for his tracts on contraception. Gandhi was keenly interested in
the question, and ultimately came down on Allinson’s side, thinking it wrong to
exclude him from the Vegetarian Society because of a political position not
related to its dietary-reform mission. Cancel culture was a thing in the 19th
century, too, it turns out, but Gandhi was on the right side of it.
The coincidence of political radicalism with
vegetarianism and other dietary and fitness fads was an irritation to George
Orwell, who observed: “One sometimes gets the impression that the mere words
‘Socialism’ and ‘Communism’ draw towards them with magnetic force
every fruit-juice drinker, nudist, sandal-wearer, sex-maniac, Quaker,
‘Nature Cure’ quack, pacifist, and feminist in England.” Revisiting the theme:
“I do not think the Socialist need make any sacrifice of essentials, but
certainly he will have to make a great sacrifice of externals. It would help
enormously, for instance, if the smell of crankishness which still clings to
the Socialist movement could be dispelled. If only the sandals and the
pistachio-coloured shirts could be put in a pile and burnt, and every
vegetarian, teetotaller and creeping Jesus sent home to Welwyn Garden City to
do his yoga exercises quietly!”
(You can now purchase George Orwell-themed yoga mats —
hurray, capitalism.)
In The Comedians, Graham Greene contrasted
the utopianism of a failed U.S. presidential candidate who had run on a
“vegetarian ticket” with the brutal political reality of life in Haiti under
François Duvalier. As the title suggests, such utopianism is difficult to take
seriously.
But people do take it seriously. There is a reason the
odious neologism lifestyle has taken root. Lifestyle is the
main battlefield of politics on the 364 days of the year that are not Election
Day.
Gandhi as a young man was an emphatic disciple of the
very “Nature Cure” quackery that so bothered Orwell. Like many before him and
after, he believed that much of modern science, and especially modern medicine,
was an alien imposition standing between him and the blessings of the
indigenous wisdom of his people. He would later amend these views somewhat,
although his low opinion of Western medicine remained to some degree — he
admired its analytic rigor but sniffed at its “methods conducing to the merely
material advancement of its clientele.”
(That is a complaint that should be familiar to modern
ears. “Sure, capitalism has given us Teslas and iPhones instead of widespread
famine, but are we truly happier?”)
Under the Raj, that which was British had all the
standing and all the power, while that which was native to India was held in
relatively low regard. This is the common colonial experience. Gandhi’s initial
resistance to British power was much less conventionally political than it was
a resistance to the British mode of life, and lowering the status of the
British (and, more generally Western) cultural elite was to be a kind of
prologue not only to formal independence but also to national self-purification
and transformation. This presented some difficult negotiations: It was, after
all, access to elite institutions that had enabled Gandhi — an English-speaking
lawyer who had spent much of his life abroad — to become a major national
leader. In his view, the Indian elite was as much to blame for India’s
subjugation as the British were: “It is we, the English-knowing Indians, that
have enslaved India,” he said. He came to believe that liberty was to be found
in renunciation — of Western goods, Western clothing, Western political ideas,
Western languages, Western religion. Not that he was exactly a bigot or a
chauvinist, but he believed that an authentic national politics could be built
only on an authentic national mode of life.
That isn’t at all alien to the American experience. Our
first public-education law, the wonderfully named Old Deluder Satan Act of
1647, was aimed at countering Catholic or crypto-Catholic influence in the
American colonies, in order to secure the central national standing of the
Puritan religion and thereby make the people fit for the exercise of political
liberty. Prohibition and other moral-improvement programs were similarly aimed
at elevating the political health of the republic by reforming the lives of the
people. Rum was understood not only as a danger to your liver but as a danger
to American democracy. Only by reforming ourselves and our pattern of living
could we come into the enjoyment of our authentic national life.
Authenticity is, inevitably, a contested line.
In our contemporary context, we are told by veterans of
our elite institutions that “real Americans” don’t need to be lectured to — or
led by — “elites.” So says Ted Cruz of Princeton and Harvard Law, so says Laura
Ingraham of Skadden, Arps, Slate, Meagher & Flom (a name that no satirist
would dare invent), so says Swiss boarding-school refugee Tucker Carlson, etc.
Of course, the Ivy League has been on the Right’s watchlist since the days
of God and Man at Yale, but even institutions formerly admired by
conservatives and right-wing populists are getting the hairy eyeball: You can
turn on your favorite AM-radio station and hear Dana Loesch expound on why she
would discourage her children from joining the military, which is, in the
right-populist estimate, just another corrupt elitist institution. Just as the
English-speaking Gandhi blamed his English-speaking class for India’s agonies,
our elite-educated and elite-employed populists blame their class — if not
exactly themselves! — for our national pain and frustration.
And if the Marine Corps is on the outs, what chance could
the Centers for Disease Control have with Republican populists?
I have touched on Republicans, Democrats, and
respectability politics from time to time in the past, but I think it remains
an underappreciated factor in our politics — which isn’t really politics at all
but a general social confrontation, a tribal war that is fought on every front,
from where we live to where we worship to where we work, from the entertainment
we consume to, somewhere in the middle of the spectrum of importance, how we
vote.
Democratic politics in the United States has of course
always had an inevitable social component, as politics does in most other
liberal democracies. For example, you’ll notice that in societies with socially
distinct ethnic or religious minorities, voters in the minority group often are
strongly associated with one party. Voters in the majority may be generally
associated with one party, too (if only the votes of white Americans were
counted, the last Democratic president would have been Lyndon Johnson) but
usually not as lopsidedly. And, of course, these things can change over time:
In the United Kingdom, Jewish voters once preferred Labour but have shifted
toward the Conservatives, partly in response to the open anti-Semitism of some
British Labour leaders; Muslims in India tended to vote against the
Hindu-chauvinist Bharatiya Janata Party for obvious reasons, but a substantial
number of Muslim voters (about 20 percent in one recent election) have begun to
pull the BJP lever as the party evolves from its foundation in religious
communal politics to become something more like a right-wing populist party. In
the United States, African-American voters overwhelmingly favored Republicans
until the Great Depression and the New Deal, at which point black voters
switched to the Democratic Party.
(There is much to criticize in the Republican record on
civil rights, but, contrary to the Democrats’ preferred potted history, the GOP
had lost the majority of black voters by 1946, long before the convulsions over
the Civil Rights Act of 1964.)
That is a two-way relationship: Voters will be attracted
to parties that welcome them and work to further their interests, but parties
also react to who is in them already: Lyndon Johnson’s cynical and patronizing
attitude regarding what he called “uppity” black voters (“We’ve got to give
them a little something, just enough to quiet them down,” etc.) was not part of
an effort to recruit black voters into the Democratic Party but a reaction to
the prior movement of black voters into the Democratic Party, which already had
been accomplished a generation before his presidency. The Republican Party’s
newfound solicitousness for what is described, not entirely accurately, as the
“white working class” is not in the main an effort to reach new voters but a
recognition of who already is in the Republican Party.
The Republican Party has adopted a countercultural
politics because it represents countercultural voters. As one critic observes,
visiting American nationalists are charmed by Budapest, but Hungarian
nationalists hate that city for its liberalism and cosmopolitanism, just as
American nationalists hate Wall Street, Silicon Valley, the Ivy League,
Hollywood, New York City, Chicago, Boston, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and the
entire state of California except for the Central Valley, the universities, the
most successful business enterprises, and most of the parts of the country
where the people and the money are. They have given up conservatism as such
because they believe that our institutions are irredeemably corrupt and hence
not worth conserving.
The day before yesterday, things were the other way
around. Republicans and conservatives had power, or believed they had power, in
the institutions, and in much of the country the GOP was associated with local
economic and cultural elites, from business executives and entrepreneurs to
university administrators, church leaders, newspaper editors, etc. The
Republican Party was the party of educated, relatively high-income suburban
professionals. The significant points on the Republican curve were Nelson
Rockefeller (at the leftward boundary), Dwight Eisenhower, the Chamber of
Commerce, the mainline Protestant churches, and the William F. Buckley/Barry
Goldwater/Ronald Reagan faction at the rightward edge of the mainstream. In the
1980s, the stereotypical Republican was Alex P. Keaton — today, it is People of
Walmart.
The Democratic Party had its aristocrats, but by the
1950s and 1960s it was very strongly associated with groups that did not enjoy
a great deal of power within elite institutions: poor white farmers attracted
by the New Deal but unenthusiastic about racial integration; Catholic “white
ethnics”; urban minority groups, mostly poor black and brown people in poor
black and brown neighborhoods; left-wing radicals and communists, who had an
influence on Democratic politics disproportionate to their numbers; etc. The
midcentury Democratic Party was in many ways like today’s Republican Party: dominated
by rich people in the poor states and courting the votes of relatively poor
people in the rich states.
Earlier this year, I wrote about the Republican Party’s
evolution in the Dionysian direction — prone to ecstasies, histrionics, ritual violations of social
norms, and ritual self-harm — but it is worth paying some attention to
the Democrats’ evolution in the Apollonian direction. The practice of
respectability politics does not sit equally easily on every Democratic
constituency. The project of imposing an Ozzy-and-Harriet sensibility on gay
Americans has been prosecuted with great energy but not without resistance.
Andrew Kelly writes in the Bay Area Reporter:
Recently, the topic of kink- and
fetish-related exhibits at Pride parades has become a flashpoint within the
culture war. Proponents of kink at Pride argue that the marches came out of a
place of rejecting straight society’s conventions on what is an “allowed”
expression of sexuality, and that many of the organizers of early Pride events
were also active in the kink and leather communities. Those arguing against the
inclusion of kink at Pride often argue that it may alienate straight allies and
make them feel uncomfortable, as well as make such events unsafe for children.
The perceived need to make gay-pride parades safe for
children is, needless to say, a relatively recent development. But the
gay-rights movement is in many ways an example of respectability politics
undertaken successfully: When “gay” meant the Village People, men parading in
leather chaps, and bathhouses, gay was kept at the margins; when “gay”
meant Will & Grace and McKinsey consultants, that was
something else. Gay politics became aligned with power and with powerful
institutions rather than opposed to them. That has not pleased everybody
involved, but what are the holdouts going to do — vote Republican? Not very
damned likely.
(And conservative gatherings and protests where people
are screaming obscenities or chanting them in quasi-religious display — good
for children?)
So, congratulations to the Trump-era Republicans — you’re
the gay people now: hated, generally unwelcome at the commanding heights of
business and cultural life, possibly considered unfit for government work,
denounced as moral degenerates, and loathed especially as an affront to public
health and hygiene. There really is nothing new under the sun.
Before the era of respectability, some gay men at the
fringes reacted to efforts to force them into conventional models of
masculinity (or to punish them for failing to follow the associated rules) with
exaggeration in both directions: If not the cartoon masculinity of all that
20th-century leather-and-bikers stuff, then the cartoon femininity of drag.
Right-populism incorporates a similar kind of exaggeration. Fox News on most
nights is a kind of right-wing drag show, in which the Upper East Side–dwelling
multimillionaire employees of a global multinational media conglomerate pretend
to be . . . something they are not.
They are not the boot-scootin’ honky-tonk aficionados
they pretend to be. In truth, they are for the most part not even as dumb as
they pretend to be.
The anti-vaxxer tendency on the populist right is a
variation on the practice of what I have in the past called “acting white,” embracing the dysfunction and bumptiousness
of the white underclass as signs of authenticity. Donald Trump is a guy who
adores the music from Cats but made a political career
performing a kind of white minstrel show for people who think they are
characters from Jason Aldean songs. Never mind that the leaders and
practitioners thereof mostly don’t know much about the white underclass they
claim to champion and identify with, any more than it mattered that the gangsta
rappers of the 1990s were not really very representative of the experience of
most black Americans or that the Village People didn’t really represent the
aspirations of many gay people in the 1970s. Write down the lyrics to your
favorite pop song and read them aloud — they are invariably stupid and often
illiterate, but what matters is how they make you feel. Political speeches may
be a little more organized and grammatical (or not!) but they work according to
the same principles.
The anti-vaxxer stuff on the right is best understood not
as a medical controversy in any genuine sense but as a ritual of
disaffiliation. “And whosoever shall not receive you, nor hear your words,
when ye depart out of that house or city, shake off the dust of your feet.” The
response to COVID-19 — the lockdowns, the mandates, the government action on a
vast and practically unprecedented scale — was a sobering display of power, and
that power is very much on the minds of millions of Americans who seem to have
quite suddenly realized that they don’t have any.
I hope that answers the question.
No comments:
Post a Comment