The Makers of Fashion

Digby asks:

If people object to superdelegates deciding who our nominees should be I would certainly think they'd object to Maureen Dowd and the kewl kids, of all people, doing it. Do they really have our best interests at heart?

No. I'd say they've never given the slightest thought about our interests. They're much more interested in their own.

The rules for modern punditry aren't really anything new. Court gossips have been around as long as there have been courts to hold them, and I'm willing to bet that, once upon a time, pundits stood in the Roman forum to say, "Well, Cicero's second Philippic needed to get around the Circus Maximus in record time. Did it?" "I don't think so, Decius. I mean, it may have won the race by a nose, but it's still not enough to break Marcus Antionius's momentum. It was too shrill, I thought, too angry." Established pundits, like their Renaissance courtier ancestors, sit in a comfortable social position, not high enough to face disaster from ordinary political shifts, and not low enough to suffer the consequences when most political decisions go wrong. (Barring of course the collapse of their country or empire, but how often does that happen?). They see themselves as guardians of the world of power and prestige. And like the doorman at Studio 54, they bar entry to people who don't have the right look, who aren't trying hard enough, or are trying too hard to get inside the club.

The rules of punditry are simple and time-tested, and can be translated to any situation or political moment.

1. Never acknowledge that any event is new or unexpected. Admitting this would demonstrate that the pundit is out-of-touch, unaware, unfashionable, fallible. In the event something new does pop up, the pundit should have a ready excuse for his failure to notice: the weather, a stomach flu, or the CIA. Alternatively, the pundit should employ a tortured line of reasoning to explain that the new thing was always predictable and that he did in fact predict it, then swiftly change the subject or attack a convenient scapegoat: see Gellar, Uri or Friedman, Thomas.

2. When interviewing a politician on television, a pundit must be sure that the question he's asking will enhance his reputation as a tough, brash, ruthless truth-seeker. The exposure of actual truth is incidental. What matters is that the question makes the politician appear uncomfortable on camera. In the event that the politician comes off well, the pundit should immediately declare the politician to be an honest, straight-talking sort who holds up under rough questions, thus enhancing both reputations.

3. While a pundit should always appear to be in good humor, he should, like Sweeney Todd, seldom laugh but often smile. Actual jokes should be left to safe subjects--politicians already judged to be on their way down or who make the mistake of demonstrating obvious ambition or expertise, entertainment figures, and people who can't defend themselves. For guidance, read The Book Of the Courtier (Book II, page 117 of the Wordsworth Classic edition, for those following along.)

Next I will try to tell you , as far as my judgement shall show me, what the means are that the Courtier ought to use for the purpose of exciting laughter, and within what bounds, because it is not seemly for the Courtier to be always making men laugh, nor yet by those means that are made us of by fools or drunken men, by the silly, the nonsensical, and likewise by buffoons. And although these kinds of men seem to be in demand by courts, yet they deserve not to be called Courtiers, but each by his own name, and to be held for what they are.

Moreover, we must diligently consider the bounds and limits of exciting laughter by derision, and who it is we deride; for laughter is not aroused by jeering at a poor unfortunate nor yet at an open rascal and blackguard, because the latter seems to merit greater punishment than that of being ridiculed, and the mind of man is not prone to flout the wretched, unless they boast of their wretchedness and are proud and saucy. We ought also to treat with respect those who are universal favourites and beloved by all and powerful, for by jeering at these persons a man may bring dangerous enemies upon himself. Yet it is proper to flout and laugh at the vices of those who are neither so wretched as to excite pity, nor so wicked as to seem worthy of capital punishment, nor so great that a touch of their wrath can do much harm.

Remember that in America, and particularly on American television, vices include being caught thinking in public, showing an interest in policy, or demonstrating actual knowledge of a subject other than baseball or American Idol. An appetite for too much knowledge is a like an appetite for too much chocolate or alcohol, the sign of a seriously unbalanced and unpleasant personality.

4. A pundit's true loyalties aren't to principles or ideologies, they are to other pundits and the maintenance of their status as a class. Like the Soviet nomenklutra, pundits must always guard their fellows against demands for accountability and responsibility. While it is true that some crimes, murder, child molestation, or an overindulgent sympathy with the poor, can result in expulsion from the class, at no point should a pundit be blasted from the class for spouting nonsense, however laughable or bigoted it may be. It is this feature of pundit life that explains the longevity of William Kristol, Maureen Dowd, and Don Imus.

5. Because pundits, regardless of the ideological livery they wear, are well-heeled and insulated from the effects of most political policies, they judge political activity on the basis of stagecraft and deportment. For them, it is acceptable for a nation's fate to turn on a candidate's laughs, sighs, or smirks, and their criticism of a candidate's perceived faults as actors enables them to burnish their own credentials as mavens of campaign fashion.

6. The pundit class's attitude toward a person in power varies between abject sycophancy and sneering condescension. Sometimes this depends on whether the politician is up or down in the opinion polls, but there are longer term preferences to explore. Because pundits generally like to picture themselves as soap bubbles floating above the world's drabness, they tend to prefer politicians who, on some level, match or exceed their indifference. Politicians who succeed with the pundits are typically those who express a certain nonchalance in the face of what the base vulgar call life. Should these politicians express any interest in the world around them at all, they do it in small gestures, executed gracefully. The rest of the time, they maintain the kind of detachment that allowed George W. Bush to say, during a golf game, "I call upon all nations to do everything they can to stop these terrorist killers. Thank you. Now watch this drive." Sneering condescension, by contrast, is reserved for those who show any excess of passion, intelligence, or wit. Such qualities, in a powerful person, might lead that person to do damage to the status quo, or to call silly and hackneyed ideas by their proper names. Anger and indignation,regardless of provocation, are especially frightening, and bring swift condemnation from the pundit class.

There are more rules, but these are the chief ones. I can't say I know how to break the grip of these people on the national discourse, but I don't feel too bad. No one else in the history of civilization has either. So just sit back, relax, and accept that as the U.S. slides into its decadence, the pundits' voices, always in search of a powerful patron to flatter or a threat to slander, will only grow louder.

Hmm, I think I may have written a play about this...