I ran into one of my favorite conservatives a week ago. We were headed down to hear Ray Moseley, a former Arkansas Gazette reporter who went on to a distinguished career as a foreign correspondent, give a lecture on the Pulitzer Prizes the Gazette won for its coverage of the 1957 Central High School integration crisis, when we saw Bill Vickery dining al fresco at one of those places where people with expense accounts go.
We had a brief conversation in which I apologized for not listening to Bill's Sunday morning radio show regularly (he's a talented broadcaster, but his show airs when I'm otherwise occupied) and he complimented me on some of my recent columns. He said he had been using them on his show, which might mean he's been making vicious fun of them but which I preferred to take as a genuine compliment. Because he's a friend. (If you live in Arkansas you either have conservative friends or spend too much time indoors.)
And Bill said I must be really enjoying this political season.
I can see why he said that. It's not been hard to think about things to write about the current presidential campaign, which started out on the level of a reality TV show, and since slipped to the level of pro wrasslin' kayfabe and, incredibly enough, threatens to take on the sorrow-toned squalidness of an Encino-shot adult film. Part of what kept me watching Sunday night's debate was horrified suspense--the angry, pacing Donald Trump projected a sense of menace that had to have had security standing by with their tranquilizer guns.
But I'm not happy about any of this. I don't want the Republican Party to disintegrate, even as I understand how much of this they've brought on themselves. I don't want statecraft reduced to playground epithets. I'm not naive enough to believe that we can all get along, but in America we don't jail our political rivals.
It's frightening that so many of us fell for it, and that so many are still holding out hope for the candidacy of a man that previous generations of Americans would have rejected out of hand. We have always known who and what Trump is, and maybe the best word for what he is is vulgar. He is no monster, just a literal-minded, self-interested soul who displays little evidence of empathy or compassion for those unluckier than himself.
But he is who he is for many different reasons, some of which are not of his choosing. There are plenty of reasons to feel sad for him, plenty of reasons to suspect that when he's by himself he doesn't care much for the company. While it is impossible and unhelpful to diagnose his condition from afar, I have little trouble believing he is a less than fully formed man. He lacks soulfulness and he behaves like a boorish frat boy.
And, despite the protestations of a few of his political allies (and a number of Facebook confessors), most of us do not.
Most of us abide by the social contract and do not expect that our wealth (if we have it) or our personal charisma (if we have it) entitles us to live above and beyond our fellow citizens. While all of us occasionally fall short, while most of us disappoint ourselves and others on a regular basis, most of us are capable of shame.
I am prepared for what might be the inevitable backlash to this post, by people who are--for whatever reason--desperately afraid of what another President Clinton might mean. And what I will tell you is that this is not about her, or them; it's about us.
I have a record, if anyone wants to check it out. I have written some highly critical things about the Clintons. I have said that the current candidate's husband is a serial disappointer who squandered opportunities to do good by indulging himself. I argued on MSNBC against Hillary Clinton running for the Senate. The Clintons have rarely appreciated my advice. I doubt they ever think of me, but if they do it is probably not fondly.
But if you ask me if they are "good people" I have to say I think they are, on balance. They have made mistakes, they have made me angry, they have their flaws and scorebooks. But mostly they have just been political. Which means they have been pragmatic. While they bear some responsibility for the drama that surrounds them, they have also been the targets of a decades-long programmatic campaign of slander.
If you think they are somehow "the same" or "worse" than Trump, you are just wrong. You have been sold a bad product. You have been insufficiently skeptical of your sources.
Of course GOP leaders should renounce their candidate. They should have done that long ago. But although we habitually speak of elected officials and political figures as "leaders," we know that most of them are really just temperature takers who look first to the mood of the people who support them financially and at the polls. They are no braver than the rest of us, and no more craven. In a state where--after all this--Trump is still likely to have more votes than any other presidential candidate, it is unlikely we will see any of the people who have embraced the GOP nominee denounce him completely. They will tell us they are appalled, and that they will vote Republican.
And that does not matter so much.
What matters is that we understand we got exactly what we wanted--a great season of entertainment and diversion, a cartoon campaign about the size of body parts. We have all been party to the bray and giggle, and there is shame enough to go around.
We need to do better. We need to ask more of those who would lead us. We need to ask more of ourselves.
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Philip Martin is a columnist and critic for the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. Email him at pmartin@arkansasonline.com and read his blog at blooddirtandangels.com.
Editorial on 10/11/2016