Did Maureen Dowd write her own headline in Wednesday's New York Times, I wonder: "Can Hillary Cry Her Way Back to the White House?" I'm generally an admirer of Dowd's columns and I enjoy a bit of cattiness as much as the next person, but there are times when she puts my back up with a scathing comment like this one. (Okay, I'll cop to it: I get a chuckle out her when she scathes the current occupant of the Oval Office and his chums...)
But I've been thinking a bit about scathing comments recently, in part because I read them rather often these days in the blogosphere, and I have started to hear them more frequently in the media on the lips of presidential candidates and their representatives. Call it scorn, derision, contempt, there are a variety of words for it. It's the kind of comment whose primary -- often sole -- strategy is to belittle or ridicule or otherwise disempower the person involved in whatever is being commented on. I have myself been the target of this kind of commentary from time to time, and though I'm reasonably hardened and not unused to criticism, I know that the scathing comment can momentarily smart. But I wonder whether those who write it understand that it says more about the one who uses it than their target; and that it means less, eventually, to the recipient, than a thoughtfully reasoned response that might be equally critical, and doubly effective?
I wonder, too, to what extent this kind of comment proceeds from some misapprehension of strength? I suppose that an argument might feel more powerful when delivered in a tone of contemptuous dismissal. At this level, it might be associated in some way with that false macho-ism that mistakes posturing for power and assumes that, to be strong, one's own opinions must necessarily decimate all others. The bullying tactic of some of our noisier talk radio hosts may filter down to those of their listeners who find it powerful and persuasive.
Or could it be mistaken for a blunt but supposedly sincere expression of honesty? Do writers of the scathing comment feel that they are doing themselves and others a favor by not restraining their opinion with fancy language or circumlocution? That a measure of verbal modesty somehow weakens the argument? That respect for others risks disrespect from them? In a society where the fear of being considered insignificant or unworthy, or of suffering the slight of disagreement or neglect is a constant threat to the fragile ego, we defend ourselves by shouting louder and more rudely than the next man -- or woman -- in order to be sure that we are heard. We hurl insults at each other with abandon, and assume that the only response to an insult received is another, still more hurtful one handed out.
Our current public and political discourse tells us a lot about who we are, and it's not a pretty picture. Lacking faith in the power of rational argument or the rivalry of ideas, we use attack ads, accusation, lies and innuendo to score points and eventually, it seems, get elected to high office for our skill in destroying another person's reputation rather than establishing our own. It's personal, ad hominem, venomous, destructive. For another recent example, we need look no further than John McCain, that pillar of presumptive rectitude, whose unfunny, sneering, sarcastic comment about Mitt Romney as the "candidate of change" -- snicker, snicker -- served only to bring the senator himself down a further notch or two in my own opinion, and surely did nothing to change anyone's opinion of his target. Did the silly barb contribute to McCain's victory over Romney in New Hampshire? I'd like to think it didn't, but I could be wrong.
I try to welcome critical response to what I write, even -- perhaps especially -- when it's negative. It means that I have been heard, and opens up the possibility for me to learn more than I knew before. I suppose I'll be considered touchy or deficient in a sense of humor for speaking out against ill-considered, unskillful speech, or speech that is calculated simply to be damaging or personally hurtful. There is, of course, a place for wit, for parody and satire. Sarcasm, though, is rightly reputed to be the lowest form of humor. The derisory comment, in my estimation, ranks right down there with it at the bottom of the least effective heap.
I note that rivals have been attempting to turn Barack Obama's oratorical skills against him, as though his felicity with language and his ability to reach the public proves him some kind of phony who lacks substance behind the fine, inspiring words. I'd suggest that this is a profound misunderstanding -- or more likely a distortion -- of how language works. How we speak IS who we are. And those of us who freely use abusive speech to promote negative judgments of others are too often revealing a greater and less palatable truth about ourselves.