Politicians Have Feelings Too

James Bowman, The New Criterion’s media critic, has been complaining for years about the “aristocracy of feelings,” the great premium our political and popular cultures place on expressions of “authentic” emotion. He might as well begin prognosticating about an impending autocracy of feelings: In the future, our leaders will rule not with an iron fist but with a fistful of balled-up Kleenex.

Given the spectacular success of Hillary’s so-called emotional moment, next we can expect her campaign to adopt “Rehumanise Yourself” as its official theme song. (Hey, at least it’d be a step up from Fleetwood Mac.) The American people have established at long last that she’s no robot, and without even resorting to the Voight-Kampff machine. “This is very personal for me,” Hillary solemnly swore. But isn’t it always “very personal” to harbor a desperate, burning desire for something—like, say, the highest office in the land?

We’ve been told that Obama’s race is no reason to support him, that McCain’s heroism is no reason to support him, that Giuliani’s (opportunistically belabored) response to 9/11 is no reason to support him, and that Romney’s resemblance to the “guy that laid you off,” in Huckabee’s formula, is no more a reason to oppose him than Huckabee’s resemblance to the “guy you worked with” is a reason to support him.

Why aren’t more people reminding us that (a) of course Hillary was never actually an emotionless automaton and (b) her ability to feel things, which should hardly come as a giant surprise since she is, after all, a human being, is no job qualification at all. I’m shocked to see so many commentators patting her on the back for what is, regardless of whether it was genuine or calculated, is ultimately irrelevant. Even Mike’s post, which offers a reasonable assessment of Hillary as a potential leader, allows—perhaps only half-jokingly—that she reminded him of his “beloved mama.” For shame, Michael!

By the way, unlike William Kristol, I think the choke-up was probably legit; I don’t think Hillary could pull off a fake one convincingly. (Also, it was quite a bit less dramatic than people are reporting it to have been. One might call it tasteful, understated.) But I don’t think it was necessarily admirable. And I think the reaction to it was, if you’ll pardon an accidental pun, a watershed moment of a very ugly kind, for reasons Jonah Goldberg puts quite well:

“Authenticity”—on which voters supposedly place such a premium—is really just a label put on self-validation. Bill Clinton infamously promised he felt our pain. Hillary Clinton similarly sold her 2000 bid for the Senate by arguing that she was more concerned about the issues that concern New Yorkers than her competitor. Question: Would you prefer a blase surgeon remove your appendix or a very concerned plumber? On Monday, Hillary Clinton got all choked up campaigning in New Hampshire. “This is very personal for me,” she said of her bid for the presidency, seemingly holding back tears. “It’s not just political. I see what’s happening (in America). We have to reverse it.” Later, she explained that she wanted people to know that she’s a “real person.” In a sense, this is populism updated for the age of “Oprah” and “Dr. Phil.” Principles and policy details take a back seat to the need to say “there, there—I understand” to voters. As Willie Stark, the populist protagonist of “All the King’s Men,” bellows to the insatiably needy crowds: “Your will is my strength, and your need is my justice.”

Read his whole column here, and remember that feelings are, in the end, nothing more than feelings.