Make Politicians Boring Again.
An entertainer’s plea to please take the entertainment out of politics.
The first large-scale media event in America took place in 1858, when opposing Illinois Senatorial hopefuls Abraham Lincoln and Stephen Douglas met in Ottawa for the first of a series of seven debates. As is often the case, bourgeoning new technology played a very large role in turning this into a nationwide event. Brand new high-speed railroads enabled newspapers in Chicago to send early iterations of stenographers to transcribe the debate and — with the help of runners and a second stenographer that could translate the shorthand back into text on the train ride back — receive complete transcripts of both candidates’ speeches within hours of their conclusion. The recent development of telegraphy then allowed these Chicago newsrooms to send the transcripts out to newspapers across the country at lightning-fast speeds. For the very first time in history, candidates for political office could address the entire country, all at once.
A political debate is still a major media event in the 2020s, but the format of the Lincoln-Douglas debates was much different than that of the televised debates of today. There was no moderator coaxing the candidates into providing easily-digestible sound bites; far from it. Instead, at each debate the candidates would alternate between three lengthy speeches: an opening statement, a rebuttal to that opening statement, and a final rejoinder. The shortest debates totaled three hours of speaking time; one of the longest, in Peoria, IL, totaled seven hours— not including an agreed-upon break for dinner. While one candidate spoke, the other took copious notes, planning their rebuttal in writing. Most surprising for those of us that grew up with 150+ channels of television, the audience at these debates — which at one stop numbered in the tens of thousands — remained highly engaged and attentive throughout the speeches. It would not be an exaggeration to say that the most popular media spectacle of the day was a seven-hour-long intellectual sparring match.
Although Douglas ended up winning re-election to the Senate, Abraham Lincoln was the clear victor of the debates—and won in a most admirable fashion. While Douglas resorted to personal attacks, Lincoln took the high road, skillfully crafting moral and logical arguments that Douglas simply could not refute. By the end, Lincoln was energized, captivating the audience with his clear tenor voice, while Douglas was embattled and ineffectual with his words. Although the atmosphere around the debates was not dissimilar from that of a major sporting event — with ample concessions and amusements — the debates themselves were not viewed as entertainment. They were, first and foremost, a contest of ideas; one that would come to take on a great historical significance by laying the groundwork for Lincoln’s 1860 Presidential victory.
Today, we view political debate as less a contest of ideas and more a contest of ego. The popular conception of a politician is no longer that of a humble public servant; nowadays, it is not uncommon to see modern-day political figures treated as rock-star style icons — with fawning puff pieces and Netflix profiles and action figures to boot. This does not seem like a sign of healthy political discourse to me. We, the public, are meant to hold our politicians accountable — they work for us, after all — and cheering their every move like starstruck fans at a JoJo Siwa concert or a WWE Royal Rumble takes us further from that ideal. The job of running our country is not a trivial one, and it’s not a job that should appeal to the fame-hungry, either. In fact, I would much prefer to know as little about the personal lives of the folks running our country as possible; “Make Politicians Boring Again” would be a slogan that I could get behind.
Current trends in media haven’t exactly pointed us in such a direction, of course. To me, the root of the problem is not that our aspirant leaders are any less competent or prepared for the job than those of the past, it’s that such traits are no longer rewarded on the endlessly entertaining, emotionally-charged platforms that we use to communicate. Out of rational self-interest, politicians have simply adapted to this new reality. Intellectual sparring is no longer our strong suit; our discourse today runs on little more than persuasive imagery and social proof. Given the choice, we prefer memes to text and snappy slogans to complex discussion. We may, occasionally, resort to the archaic written word to express our thoughts when memes and slogans fail to convey the entirety of a message — but only if such expression fits neatly within a 280 character limit.
The description of the Lincoln-Douglas debates at the top of today’s Musing is mostly paraphrased from Neil Postman’s popular 1986 book, “Amusing Ourselves To Death,” which I recently read for the first time after it was recommended to me by a friend. This being written in the ‘80s and such, the object of Postman’s ire was not social media, but the original idiot box: the television set. Postman’s theory is that the general public was able to follow the intellectual complexities of the Lincoln-Douglas debate back in the 1860s because the United States was a typographical society; that is to say, the printed word was the dominant form of media. A book is not a passive form of entertainment; it demands a reader’s uninterrupted attention and imagination in order to be fully absorbed. By contrast, the dominant form of media in 1980s America was television — a visual form of media, designed purely to entertain the senses with moving images and fast context switches, rather than guide the viewer towards reflection or deep, intellectual study. As Postman was fond of saying, The medium is the metaphor —the dominant form of media in any given era will come to define the discourse of that era.
I got a taste of the metaphor early in my career as a musician and entrepreneur, tasked with explaining a new concept for a musical act on national media. It was 2013, and one of the “vintage”-styled covers we filmed in my living room had recently spent a day as the most-watched video on all of YouTube. We were asked to do a whole bunch of press appearances to commemorate this fact, the biggest being a feature on Good Morning America. At this point, I didn’t have a manager — let alone a publicist — so I knew I was going to have to wing things a bit when asked to explain the concept behind this act. No matter—I had already spend several nights preparing by writing down lots of ways to explain what Postmodern Jukebox was, and had even planned to surprise the show’s hosts with some crudely silkscreened PMJ T-shirts, to further hammer home the point. When the moment finally came and the coveted ABC News microphone was passed my way, I think I wound up getting about a sentence and a half out…and off to commercials we went. I learned very quickly that such TV spots go by very quickly. I still left them the t-shirts, in case you were wondering…they were likely disposed of promptly.
On a television interview, there isn’t time to give much of anything other than a soundbite; that’s just what the medium demands of its actors. Effective communicators understand that the goal of a television soundbite is not so much to accurately express an idea as it is to pique the viewer’s curiosity. Just as the lead characters of television’s Mad Men understand the art of designing the perfect slogan or call-to-action, frequent guests of television shows understand the art of injecting a memorable one-liner into the proceedings that sucks the air out of the room. The rise of social media — and of Twitter, in particular — has elevated this art into a potent tool for aspiring politicians and pundits. As it turns out, a television audience is hardly even necessary these days; snappy comebacks and sick burns travel much further when shared to social media as standalone clips, with no additional context required. A well-timed “dunking” moment between feuding politicians evokes the same feelings in us that we get watching the bully of a movie get his comeuppance at the hands of the scrappy underdog, each and every time. Like anything else, political debate becomes much more entertaining when it becomes emotionally-charged.
Although the idea of politics as entertainment is nothing new — witness the petty barbs and insults in ABC’s televised debates between William F. Buckley and Gore Vidal in 1968 — political leaders themselves were previously expected to have some degree of decorum. Of course, the 2016 US Presidential Election changed all of that very fast. The genie was officially out of the bottle: exhibiting strong opinions with little-to-no nuance, hyperbolic extravagance, and confidence taken to the point of self-delusion was the stuff that worked in our social media-fueled society. Politicians of all stripes and leanings began to borrow from this new toolkit, amassing large follower counts in the process. The “takes” got hotter, the hyperbole got stronger, and the imagery became more conspiratorial and dramatic. Today, it is nearly a daily occurrence to hear of some member of congress or another using their platform to say something completely bonkers. To us in the audience, however, the content is not nearly as important as its messenger. Our modern conception of a politician we like exists somewhere between a celebrity action hero and a saintly figure — whereas the ones we don’t like are some combination of out-of-touch fool and heartless, conniving psychopath.
Of course, politics is not the only realm where entertainment value has taken on undue significance — far from it. For a much more innocuous example of this phenomenon, look no further than the development of so-called “Brand Twitter”. The question of how to get stodgy old consumer brands to stand out on a platform full of engaging opinions and one-liners was solved back in the 2010s: Just act as if brands were people. It was funny and refreshing — if a tad bit bizarre — to see Denny’s tweet relatable content, or to watch Old Spice and Taco Bell get into Twitter roast battles, or to watch Steak-umm school us on informational literacy. When brands exhibited their wit on Twitter, we cheered them on and showered them with “likes.” We understood intellectually that these were the same boring companies as before — just with a hip, precocious kid with a smartphone now at the helm of these social accounts — but emotionally, we came to view these brands as our friends.
Of course, brands are not meant to be our friends, and politicians are not meant to be rockstars. There is some reason to be optimistic that the majority of people know this, as well. Just as viral moments on Twitter don’t necessarily translate into a wild increase in sales, some of the most vocal, seemingly influential politicians and pundits online haven’t been able to translate that influence into actual lasting political power in Washington. To the contrary of the admonishment to “read the room!” that is so oft-used online, social media is not actually the room. It’s a room; sure — but the idea that someone can spend months crafting an online persona from their own real-life room and suddenly be rewarded with unlimited political capital is as ridiculous as it sounds. Cooler heads tend to prevail over time, and genuine competency rewarded in the long run.
The mediums themselves are changing, as well. Many long-form podcasts are now dwarfing cable news television shows in ratings, which indicates that the public’s latent appetite for in-depth conversation is actually quite huge. Politicians that excel at tossing off pithy comments and impassioned appeals to fear may have a harder time maintaining that prowess over a two or three hour conversation — especially when pressed to elaborate on their ideas by a skilled and unbiased host. Although some will simply turn down such opportunities out of a desire to exert more control over their own image, at some point the cost of refusing to appear on long-form discussion platforms may become too great. Just as the early winners on Twitter were the ones that knew how to craft the perfect zinger in 140 characters, the winners in the long-form discussion revolution will be the ones that can demonstrate trustworthiness and a deep knowledge of their subject matter over a long conversation.
I don’t envy politicians. I would never want to be a politician, myself; I’m an entertainer, which is a way more enjoyable, way less stressful job. I couldn’t tell you the first thing about running a small town — let alone a state or a country — but I can tell you how to entertain people. That’s precisely why it troubles me when I see politics straying a bit too far into the realm of entertainment. A life in politics isn’t meant to be a fun, ego-gratifying venture. A life in politics is a life spent looking at complex, multidimensional problems from a variety of angles, making tough decisions that will invariably anger some, and somehow working to build consensus nonetheless. Unlike entertainment, the work being done is serious, with far-reaching and long-lasting consequences. It is meant to be unglamorous, onerous, and extremely necessary work.
I believe that we have reason to be hopeful that a correction is coming soon; one that ushers in a new, familiar age. A time where brands will simply try to sell us stuff — not try to be our buddies or weigh in on complex political issues that don’t typically concern companies that make peanut butter or ice cream or whatever. A time when public-facing institutions no longer feel a need to tweet zingers, and can rest easy knowing that we don't need them to be clever, only competent. A time when our politicians are viewed with a healthy degree of skepticism and — maybe someday — boredom. Until then, I will be here, hanging out in the cheap seats with my good friend, Wendy's®, watching our politician-entertainers engage in their latest Twitter dunk-a-thon.
At least we have ample concessions!
-SB
3/13/22 - The Musings Mailbag (Musebag?) had quite a mixed response to last week’s piece, which extolled “The Simple Pleasures of Watching ‘Ancient Aliens.’” It was a bit of a departure from the themes of my previous pieces, but in my defense, I did say that my approach to this newsletter would be one of, “let’s see where this goes.” As promised…it went.
A viewpoint that I received from a number of readers was that the sloppy pseudoscience of shows like Ancient Aliens aren’t that far removed from the sloppy logic used by those that espouse wild conspiracy theories — some of which have demonstrably deleterious effects on our society. I can certainly understand where many might agree with this argument, and perhaps they are correct. My own line of thinking (which I briefly touched on in the piece) is that we can draw a distinction between conspiracy theories — which often have political agendas underneath the surface — and pseudoscience stuff like horoscopes, ghost stories and UFOs, which really just exist to entertain and engage our innate sense of wonder. It’s clear to me that Ancient Aliens is an example of the latter. Just my two cents on the matter.
On the other side of the crop circle, I received a few replies suggesting that perhaps I haven’t looked deeply enough into the evidence in support of the theory that Earth has been visited by extraterrestrials. Believe me, I have — and I really, really want to believe. I’ll grant this much: I absolutely believe we are not alone in the Universe; after all, there are approximately 200 billion trillion stars in the Universe, and our Sun is but one of them. It would be lottery-winner-gets-struck-by-lightning-and-hit-by-an-asteroid-simultaneously levels of unlikely for us to be the only intelligent species out there. I believe that most likely, there’s tons of life in the Universe, but the vast distances between stars and the astronomical time and energy needs to traverse said distances means that we never run into our neighbors. My favorite less-than-two-minute video on this topic is the late Carl Sagan explaining the Drake equation . My favorite nine minute video for visualizing the sheer vastness of the Universe is this 1977 film, “Powers Of Ten.” I come back to this one quite a bit; I appreciate its trippy, ‘70s-science-film synthesizer soundtrack, as well.
On the topic of UFO sightings, I’m reasonably open-minded — especially when it comes to the recently released Pentagon footage and eyewitness accounts by military personnel such as Cmdr. David Fravor. It does seem to be a very real phenomenon, I just don’t think we have enough (any?) evidence to make the jump from “UFOs have been spotted here” to “UFOs from other worlds have been spotted here” at this time. And, when it comes to the ancient astronaut theory… well, that’s just a Star Trek bridge too far for me. But again, just my two cents — which, at the rate I’m issuing them here, will likely need to be adjusted for inflation soon.
I also heard from a number of readers that appreciated Ancient Aliens for the exact same reasons I did, which was personally very reassuring to me. I also learned that I have but a few degrees of separation from the folks behind the show — which may come in handy for when PMJ inevitably covers “E.T.” by Katy Perry…
As always, feel free to write me directly by replying to this email, or by emailing scottbradlee@substack.com. Word-of-mouth is the only marketing I do for this little corner of the internet-galaxy, so please feel free to spread the word by forwarding this piece to anyone that you think might enjoy it!
Enjoy your week,
Scott
