Love the Bubble

There’s an old story that when Richard Nixon was re-elected president in 1972 by a score of 49 states to one, the legendary New Yorker film critic Pauline Kael remarked, “How could Nixon possibly have won?  Nobody I know voted for him!”

In truth, Kael said nothing of the sort.  Or rather, she said the exact opposite of the above, but because life is one long game of telephone, over time her words have been misinterpreted to within an inch of their life, so that now she comes off as an oblivious, left-wing stooge.  Oh well:  When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.

All the same, those exact words have been bouncing around my head a lot these days, following the even more inexplicable election of an even more inappropriate candidate to that very same high office.  If the gist of Kael’s (fictional) lament is that Americans are so ideologically tribal that we’ve essentially walled ourselves off from those with whom we disagree, I’ve certainly done my part to make matters worse.

Indeed, months before Donald Trump became America’s president-elect, I couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that, so far as I could tell, not a single person I’ve ever known was prepared to cast a vote for him.  Nor, for that matter, was any writer, elected official or celebrity in my intellectual orbit for whom I hold even a modicum of respect—including many conservatives who would normally support the Republican candidate as reflexively as I would support the Democrat.

Is this because, like Pauline Kael, I live inside an elitist, left-wing bubble and spent the entirety of 2016 subconsciously avoiding any views I would rather not hear?  Probably.

Is it also because Donald Trump was the most unserious and morally repugnant presidential candidate in a century, and therefore liable to turn off virtually any honest person who knows a vulgar charlatan when they see one?  Once again:  All signs point to yes.

Because those two things are equally true—not one more than the other—I’ve had real trouble feeling guilty about contributing to America’s increasing divide between Team Red and Team Blue.  I don’t doubt that if I put in more effort to reach out to folks in the heartland and elsewhere who do not share my values, I would likely emerge a fuller, more empathetic human being.  But there is no amount of ideological ecumenicalism that could negate all the terrible things Trump has said and that innumerable supporters of his have done:  He and they are as contemptible today as they’ve ever been—if not worse—and I have no desire to treat their particular views on race, religion and gender as if they are deserving of my respect.

Remember:  One’s politics are not some ingrained, immovable phenomenon like ethnicity or sexual orientation.  They are a choice.  They reflect how you think—as opposed to who you are—and that makes them fair game for the condemnation of others.

Which brings us—improbably enough—to Meryl Streep.

At Sunday’s Golden Globes, Streep chose to accept the Cecil B. DeMille Lifetime Achievement Award by expressing her revulsion toward the president-elect and all that he represents—specifically, his disdain for multiculturalism and a free press, as well as his pathological inability to ever behave like a mature, compassionate adult.  Predictably, the crowd inside the Beverly Hilton went wild, while right-wingers online condemned Streep as an arrogant liberal nut.  And so it goes.

From a close reading of Streep’s remarks, we find that—apart from an unfair crack about mixed martial arts—she didn’t make a single statement that any decent person could possibly disagree with.  Every factual assertion was objectively correct (e.g., Trump is a bully, Hollywood actors have geographically diverse backgrounds), while every value judgment was so basic and obvious that a kindergartner could understand it (e.g., “disrespect invites disrespect, violence incites violence”).

Substantively, there was absolutely nothing controversial in Streep’s comments.  The uproar, then, was entirely a function of Streep’s status as Hollywood royalty—and, thus, a spokeswoman for the cultural left—which led those on the right to denounce her purely out of partisan vindictiveness, just the way congressional Republicans have opposed much of what President Obama has said because he said them.

That, my friends, is the real danger of living in a bubble:  Your ideological bias can become so overpowering that you decide, in advance, that those in the other bubble could never possibly say something true.  And that is the moment at which all good governance—nay, all good citizenship—ends.

I, for one, am entirely comfortable with the fact that, during the next four years, Donald Trump will occasionally say and do things of which I completely approve.  When that happens, I hope I will have the decency and integrity to say so.  All I ask in return is for everyone else—no matter which bubble they call home—to meet me halfway.

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