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Amid National Uproar, We are the Real Spectacle St. Louis Post-Dispatch 3 February 1998. B7. Public Ignores Its Responsibility in Clinton Crisis Columbus Ledger-Enquirer 3 February 1998. 9A. Another Presidential Crisis and the Decline of Public Discourse Mobile Register 3 February 1998. 9A. Real Spectacle is Public’s Reaction Rome [GA] News-Tribune 8 February 1998. F1. Sean Patrick O’Rourke and Ron Manuto* We have missed the real spectacle of the past week. It is no surprise. We are drunk on lurid images of power, unrestrained appetite, and shameless self-promotion. Like addicts, we seem unable to resist the wild, increasingly scandalous, yet disturbingly unsubstantiated stories flooding the news media. As a result, we have failed to see what is most grotesque in the so-called “Clinton Crisis.” We are the spectacle. It is no surprise. We were the spectacle in the O. J. Simpson criminal trial, when a careful examination of the evidence of his guilt or innocence gave way to an obsession with preconceived notions about race, the personalities of the primary players, and our own fantasies about life in Los Angeles’ fast lane. We were the spectacle in 1948 when President Truman ordered loyalty hearings of federal workers, who, without legal representation, had to prove their innocence. We stood silently by. We were the spectacle in the early 1950s, when Senator Joseph McCarthy slandered Army staff personnel and Department of State employees by calling them — without evidence — subversives and communists. With the exception of Edward Murrow, we stood silently by. We were the spectacle in August, 1964 when President Lyndon Johnson pushed the Congress into passing the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution. We said nothing. Our silence released our representatives from their constitutional authority to declare war. And we willingly sent our sons off to a conflict from which we have yet to recover. We will always be the spectacle when we fail to suspend judgment long enough to listen to the defense as well as the accusation, to explore the possibilities of good and evil, innocence as well as guilt. We will always be the spectacle when we fail to uphold the trust and responsibility given to us by those who crafted the constitution. Our republic is a noble yet fragile experiment. As the founding fathers knew, the only way it can endure is if civic virtue remains intact, if our discussions are disciplined and rigorous, if our minds and hearts are open. The ambitious and ruthless will invariably poison our speech with deceit, innuendo, and rumor, for they are interested only in themselves, not how together we can live. We are the spectacle because we demand so little and yield so easily to the distortions of the mass media. Reporters, who seem to be more devoted to their own careers than journalistic integrity, desperately search for a story, the story, the angle or hook to get over. They must look cool. Look smart. Look attractive. And as they endlessly repeat themselves, they provide little evidence but suggest every conceivable transgression. How is this achieved? Well, scandal has a certain form. It begins with the accusation. If particularly sinful and sufficiently repeated, an accusation becomes its own evidence. In addition, the accused must be a person who can be set apart, a person who lacks common virtue; he or she must threaten (either our beliefs or well-being) and have power. The threat is what energizes our uncertainty. This requirement allows us the emotional distance necessary to sanction the punishment that follows. Punishment, then, is not only expected but required. The form is what drives the report of every crime, every “good” action film, every public scandal. The mass media understand the form. They use it because the market demands that they do; without it fortunes may be lost. But it is also why we can no longer rely on the press, especially television news, in the manner we once did. It seems to have abdicated its responsibility to report the news accurately — already in the Clinton crisis two widely reported claims of damning evidence have had to be retracted. When civic discourse is corrupted by scandal’s form, the spin-masters, or the selected film sequence on the nightly news, we cannot make deliberate choices. We can only react. Public discussions and debates are only as good as the information upon which they are based and Entertainment Tonight just will not cut it. Where does this leave us? Without an informed, rational, and responsible citizenry, a democracy doesn’t mean much. We are merely playing out some script. We become impotent and hostile. Postmodern theorists tell us that standards of judgment are an illusion, that public deliberation may be a waste of time. It is not surprising then that we have become so cynical. Our greatest challenge may be in learning how to defeat nihilism’s appeal, to resist our reckless rush to judgment. If we fail, one thing is obvious: each time we face a crisis and refuse to exercise our duties as citizens in an informed and responsible manner, it tears further, even if only slightly, at the fabric of the American system of self-government. Bill Clinton fits the form of scandal perfectly. He may yet be proven guilty of perjury. He may yet be proven guilty of obstruction of justice. Then again, he may be vindicated. We do not and should not have to agree about his character or his politics. But before we judge we should grant him what every American is entitled to: the presumption of innocence. The burden is on his accusers. We will continue to face political scandals, murder trials, graft, corruption, rumors of war, and talk of conspiracies. Even in the worst of times we have had voices of reason and eloquence, the good man or woman speaking well. If we refuse to discipline ourselves, we will not hear them; we will not be able to recognize how what they say makes a difference and thereby become incapable of making a difference ourselves. In the end, we will have abandoned a system in which, Thomas Jefferson said, “Error of opinion may be tolerated where reason is left free to combat it.” We will have abandoned, in his words, “the world’s best hope.” *Sean Patrick O’Rourke teaches in the Communication Studies department at Vanderbilt University. Ron Manuto writes on civil rights and legal issues in California.