11

Irony and Outrage

A Wild Raccoon Versus a Well-Trained Attack Dog

in writing this book, I have highlighted the ways irony and outrage are the logical extensions of the psychology of liberalism and conservatism. I have proposed that the two genres have parallel histories, encouraged by the same technological and political transformations, and serve similar political functions for their audiences. But make no mistake: satire and outrage are not the same. They look, feel, and sound different because—in keeping with the distinct values and psychological profiles of their audiences—they serve different needs and gratifications. However, rather than thinking about satire and outrage as occupying two divergent spaces in the media landscape, this book argues that these two genres should be thought of as natural expressions of the psychologies and personalities of the left and right.

There is no conspiracy to keep conservatives out of the world of satire, just as there is no conspiracy to keep liberals out of the outrage business. Instead, liberals, comfortable with ambiguity, rumination, experimentation, and hybridity, gravitate toward and appreciate aesthetic forms that are themselves incomplete or messy. Abstract art. Stories without a clear ending. Improvisation. Irony. Combinations of the serious and the playful, the informative and the entertaining. The Committee. Lenny Bruce. John Oliver. Liberals see these forms as invitations to participate, to think, and to play. And conservatives (most notably social and cultural conservatives), with a strong desire for certainty and order, are drawn to aesthetic forms that follow the rules and emerge “fully cooked.” Realistic art. Stories with a clear ending. Texts that are literal and didactic. Conservatives make efficient use of heuristics and are acutely affected by negative and threatening stimuli. They appreciate and gravitate toward aesthetic forms that are themselves unambiguous, didactic, firm, and clear. They also prefer political sources that “stay in their lane,” abiding by the boundaries that “ought to exist” between politics and play. Dan Smoot. Rush Limbaugh. Sean Hannity.

To Hell with the Other Side? Not So Fast.

After several years studying the psychology, physiology, and aesthetic preferences of the left and the right, I am not convinced that a liberal aesthetic preference is objectively “better than” a conservative one. Liberals’ rejection of categories and boundaries—their penchant for hybridity and experimentation—can be chaotic, messy, and unfinished. And as conservatives, with their high need for closure, have always known, watching a painter capture—with photographic realism—the contours of a landscape with only a paintbrush is truly awe-inspiring. Who hasn’t seen an abstract “masterpiece” on exhibit in a modern art museum and thought: “this looks like something my two-year-old could do?” Indeed, as the National Review’s film critic Kyle Smith might argue, liberals can’t even seem to provide a satisfying ending to a story, instead opting for ambiguity and untied ends.

The United States’ political climate is so toxic that liberal and conservative opinion leaders would have each side believe that if the other side just disappeared, things would be fine. But unpacking these differences between the left and the right reveals how these ideologies might reflect distinct and necessary psychological and physiological systems that contribute to the healthy functioning of the larger organism: democratic society. In fact, reflecting on the very different psychologies, lifestyles, and values of the left and the right invites a thought experiment: is it possible that conservatives manage those aspects of society that make it possible for artists, musicians, and comics to enter the state of play and experiment with hybrid aesthetic forms in the first place? Perhaps liberals’ comfort with uncertainty and ambiguity is a luxury made possible—in part—by the fact that those higher in “need for closure and order” are minding the store. And maybe regular artistic expression is facilitated by a society that has some semblance of stability—maintained by vigilant individuals whose need for order and certainty helps make it so. On the other hand, perhaps a world without liberals would be so driven by vigilance and threat-monitoring that it would leave less room for music, art, or comedy. Taken to their extreme, societies that are focused exclusively on law and order would certainly lack play and experimentation—ultimately slowing the kinds of innovations that contribute to cultural enrichment and economic growth.

The Limits of Satire and the Dangers of Outrage

The proposition that the aesthetics of the left and the right stem from psychological predispositions is an argument about people’s natural tendencies—their innate inclinations. However, the increased popularity of the genres of satire and outrage—the fact that they are no longer relegated to dark smoky comedy clubs or the far end of a radio dial—is what happens when media executives capitalize on these psychological predispositions in a splintered media environment. With journalism decimated by profit motives, trust in institutions at historic lows, and political polarization at its peak, satire and outrage have become viable vehicles for political information. Media executives and political strategists, having come to understand the unique ways the left and the right orient to the world, have made it their goal to use this knowledge to create messages and content that serve their political and financial interests. In the process, they push the nation’s citizens farther apart. This is the heart of the business model that creates enormous profit for 21st Century Fox through programming at Fox News (and to a lesser extent for Comcast through its programming at MSNBC). It is also how Russian intelligence tried to exploit Americans’ ideological divisions in their effort to undermine America’s democracy in the 2016 election.¹ By persuading Americans on both the left and the right to frame their differences as fatal flaws of the opposing side rather than necessary features of a cohesive system, these entities and others seek to destabilize American society in an effort to obtain power and financial reward.

Yet the potential for outrage and satire to be strategically employed for such political and financial gains is not symmetrical. Politicians, political parties, and political strategists might want to use both of these genres as attack dogs that they can sic on enemies or trespassers. But because satire requires staying in the state of play, downplaying its own moral certainty and issuing judgments through implication rather than proclamation, political elites’ ability to harness satire and use it to their own ends is by definition compromised. I would contend that satire is far more difficult than outrage to exploit for attaining large-scale political influence. Argumentation through play and insinuation through irony are hard to use for political gain. Any form of organic, hybrid artistic expression with radical or political themes is intrinsically difficult to employ purposefully. It’s experimental. It’s messy. And it’s not conducive to goal-driven propaganda.

When Ellul wrote about hate as the most profitable resource of agitation propaganda,² he certainly was not talking about ironic segments praising the humanity of the death penalty or radical performance art with antiwar themes. Ellul was talking about didactic, emotion-filled (typically hate- and anger-filled) speech. Speech that explicitly identifies out-groups and threats and that proposes specific courses of action. Speech that is cloaked in moral certainty and purports to present an unequivocal truth. Ellul described such propaganda as producing “rapid and spectacular effects” and as the preferred propaganda of elites seeking war or social upheaval. “Propaganda of agitation unleashes an explosive movement; it operates inside a crisis or actually provokes the crisis itself.”³ Satire and irony on the other hand are more akin to Ellul’s concept of “sociological propaganda,” a form of diffuse, spontaneous messaging that is not created by elites seeking to mobilize the public toward a political goal but originates organically from the culture and people themselves. Sociological propaganda operates “in reverse,” such that “existing economic, political and sociological factors progressively allow an ideology to penetrate individuals.”⁴ It is aimed at an entire “style of life” rather than at “opinions or one particular course of behavior.”

The underlying logic and aesthetic of outrage make it an ideal mechanism for tactical, goal-driven political mobilization. Importantly, though, it is the symbiosis between outrage and the underlying psychology of social and cultural conservatism that renders conservative outrage especially fruitful as an avenue for strategic political persuasion. It’s why it worked well for Dan Smoot and Clarence Manion with their (admittedly small) audiences in the early 1960s and why it’s working well for Limbaugh and Hannity today.

But just as it is the symbiosis between outrage and conservatism that lends itself to strategic persuasion and mobilization, the symbiosis between the aesthetic of irony and the underlying psychology of liberalism render liberal satire especially fruitful as a forum not for mobilization but for exploration and rumination. Consider one of the most critically acclaimed and influential pieces of satire of the past decade: Colbert’s 2011 creation of an actual super PAC, Americans for a Better Tomorrow, Tomorrow. As discussed in chapter 9, Colbert’s coverage of super PACs and Citizens United influenced public opinion and knowledge of the topic. But, according to Colbert, he didn’t create his super PAC with political or persuasive intentions at all. He didn’t push the limits of campaign finance in an effort to fuel activism on the issue of campaign finance reform. Rather, the whole thing came about by accident. After having mentioned a fictional super PAC at the end of a political parody on The Colbert Report, Comedy Central expressed resistance to the idea of an actual Colbert super PAC. “Are you really going to get a PAC?” a network representative asked Colbert. “Because if you actually get a PAC, that could be trouble.” To which Colbert replied: “well then, I’m definitely doing to do it.”⁵ And so began the largely organic and experimental process of launching and raising funds for an actual super PAC and learning about the (nearly nonexistent) limits of campaign financing. As Colbert explained, “at every stage of [the super PAC], I didn’t know what was going to happen next. It was just an act of discovery. It was purely improvisational. People would say ‘what is your plan?’ My plan is to see what I can and cannot do with it.”⁶

This is the essence of the liberal aesthetic: experimentation. An act of discovery. Not knowing what is going to happen next. I can see how this would be extremely frustrating to liberal political strategists. Whereas the preferred aesthetic form among conservatives is perfectly suited to elite strategic persuasion, the preferred aesthetic form among liberals is absolutely not. Satire especially, when functioning at its best, is not explicitly goal-driven but is exploratory. And it remains outside the system, not beholden to political interests or parties. Last Week Tonight’s John Oliver has even argued: “a comedian is supposed to be an outsider. He’s supposed to be outside looking in. I don’t want to be at parties in D.C. with politicians. Comedians shouldn’t be there. If you feel comfortable being in a room like that, there’s a big problem.”⁷

When satirists do step into the realm of organized politics or political activism, it doesn’t seem to go particularly well. In October 2010, after Stewart and Colbert hosted the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear on the National Mall in Washington, DC, journalists asked them how successful they thought the rally had been. They laughed at the frame surrounding such questions. “Our currency is not this town’s [Washington, DC’s] currency,” Stewart replied. “We aren’t running for anything. We don’t have a constituency. We do television shows for people who like them.”⁸

Some of the most uncomfortable interactions among satirists, politicians, and the press in American politics have come at the annual White House Correspondents’ Association Dinner. When the Association invited Colbert to serve as the featured speaker in 2006, he performed in his ironic persona, “praising” then-president George W. Bush: “most of all, I believe in this president. Now, I know there are some polls out there saying that this man has a 32 percent approval rating. But guys like us, we don’t pay attention to the polls. We know that polls are just a collection of statistics that reflect what people are thinking in ‘reality.’ And reality has a well-known liberal bias.” In 2018, comedian Michelle Wolf used her speech at the dinner to invite the audience to question the integrity of White House press secretary Sarah Huckabee Sanders, saying: “I actually really like Sarah. I think she’s very resourceful. Like she burns facts, and then she uses that ash to create a perfect smoky eye. Like ‘maybe she’s born with it, maybe it’s lies.’ It’s probably lies.” In response to the backlash against Wolf’s comments, the Association’s president, Margaret Talev, issued a statement in which she said: “last night’s program was meant to offer a unifying message about our common commitment to a vigorous and free press while honoring civility, great reporting and scholarship winners, not to divide people. Unfortunately, the entertainer’s monologue was not in the spirit of the mission.”⁹ In an interview, the comedian, author, and former Colbert Report writer Frank Lesser described getting roped into the world of political activism in 2017. In response to White House spokesperson Kellyanne Conway suggesting that “people don’t care” about President Trump’s tax returns, Lesser tweeted: “Trump claims no one cares about his taxes. The next mass protest should be on Tax Day to prove him wrong.”¹⁰ The tweet went viral, and suddenly the Tax March was an actual event. As the author of the tweet, Lesser found himself at the center of the organizing. “This was the only time I actually got sort of involved in actual politics,” he admitted, “and I was frustrated by the experience and met some very unpleasant people.”¹¹ “I’m thinking of making a mockumentary about the whole thing, inspired by the protest chant, called This Is What Democracy Looks Like? with a question mark at the end. It was all so very frustrating.”¹²

Compare these uncomfortable partnerships between satirists and the political establishment to the exceedingly comfortable partnership between conservative outrage hosts and the Trump administration. At a rally in Cape Girardeau, Missouri, on the night before the 2018 midterm elections, the conservative crowd was greeted by the familiar voice of Limbaugh. He quickly hit all the classic markers of outrage, warming up the crowd with dire talk of “risk,” “danger,” and “hanging on by a thread”: “We are a great nation at risk in a dangerous world. We are hanging by a thread. Do you realize, folks, there is nobody … who would do what Donald Trump has done—nobody who would buck the system? Who among anybody in politics, who could you have glommed onto that would have this kind of chance to make America great again?”¹³ Once on stage, President Trump acknowledged the support of “a few people” he described as “very special”; people who “have done an incredible job for us. They’ve been with us from the beginning. … Come on up, Sean Hannity” (photo 11.1). At the microphone before the raucous crowd, Hannity campaigned for the president’s agenda: “the one thing that has made and defined your Presidency more than anything else: Promises made. Promises kept. 4 and a half million new American jobs. 4.3 million Americans off of food stamps. 4 million Americans out of poverty. And we’re not dropping cash loads, cargo planes of cash to Iranian mullahs who chant ‘death to America.’ Mr. President, thank you.”¹⁴

Hannity was followed onstage by yet another outrage host, Jeanine Pirro, host of Fox News’s Justice with Judge Jeanine. On her show, Pirro warns of the threat of migrant caravans crossing the southern border and refers to the Mueller investigation as the “Russian collusion delusion.”¹⁵ On the stage at the rally, she engaged in straight electioneering rhetoric—or, to quote myself from a couple of pages ago, “tactical, goal-driven political mobilization”: “if you like the America that he is making now, you’ve got to make sure you get out there tomorrow, if you haven’t voted yet. Everyone you know: your grandmother, your cousin, your kids, even your next door neighbor if you don’t like ’em—get them out to vote for Donald Trump and all the people who are running for the Republican Party.”¹⁶

In Sum: A Wild Raccoon versus a Well-Trained Attack Dog

It is time to recognize these ideologies as overlapping and necessary systems that both contribute to everyone’s cultural and societal well-being. The fact that one of these ideologies cultivates particularly fertile ground in which political operatives can more readily sow the seeds of hate and division—this is where things go off the rails. But instead of seeing conservatism as problematic for societal health—which it most certainly is not—I would argue that people should consider how, through the genre of outrage, the psychology of conservatism is more readily exploited by those seeking political power, financial reward, and cultural dominance. Conversely, satire thrives outside the system and emerges from the bottom up largely through experimentation and improvisation.

If outrage is a well-trained attack dog that operates on command, satire is a raccoon—hard to domesticate and capable of turning on anyone at any time.

Does satire have a liberal bias? Sure. Satire has a liberal psychological bias. But the only person who can successfully harness the power of satire is the satirist. Not political strategists. Not a political party. Not a presidential candidate.

Outrage is the tool of conservative elites.

But ironic satire is the tool of the liberal satirist alone.