The Weiner Follies: The Personification of Politics

Anthony Weiner in NYC, May 2011 © Tony the Misfit | Flickr

Silly season comes early in Washington, along with the steamy weather. It is just barely June, and we are already watching the meltdown of Congressman Anthony Weiner, an outspoken liberal Queens Democrat and a one-time candidate for Mayor of New York City. This disgusting and delightful episode began innocently enough with the question of whether the Congressman sent a photo of his filled-out jockey shorts to a West coast co-ed. She assured us that she was not offended by such japery. Stranger things have happened, even in the New York Congressional delegation. The episode seemed like a pleasant, if erotically-charged, diversion. As Claude Levi-Strauss pointed out in another vein, it was “good to think.” Now we learn that the Congressman has checked himself into the Eliot Spitzer wing to deal with a whimsical mental illness that the DSM-5 might label “cad-atonia.” Weiner may be needy, but psychiatry is not likely to provide a cure.

At the time I marveled at how Weiner made such a hash of his own defense. If he did Tweet young women, admit it as ill-conceived teasing and move on. Taking seriously Weiner’s (at first) plausible assertion that his Twitter account was hacked, I worried about the prevalence of Candid Camera politics. I spoke of those luscious gotcha moments in which politicians were upended by trickery of which conservative blogger Andrew Breitbart and his associate James O’Keefe of the famous NPR-Arab donor sting have become so expert. In this case my suspicions of Breitbart were unfounded. Despite being an articulate defender of progressive policies, it has become clear that the Congressman was a fully engaged politician.

Here is yet another instance in which the cover-up proved far worse than the crime. Early on Weiner was accused of sharing lewd pictures of himself. “Lewd” seemed to be something of a term of art, although apparently there is a photo that is more explicit in the mix. Still, the original photo of filled out briefs, the basis of the scandal, would hardly qualify as foreplay in . . .

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Newt Gingrich and the Politics of Rumor

Newt Gingrich's official portrait as Speaker of the House, oil on canvas, 2000 © Thomas Nash | Collection of the U.S. House of Representatives

All influential politicians attract rumors. Like tar babies, no matter how much denied or improbable, sticky rumors do not disappear if they capture something defining about their target. They are too good to be false. For several weeks before our consumption of all things bin Laden, Americans speculated on the meaning and significance of President-elect Barack Obama’s birth certificate. There was never much evidence to suggest that the president was born outside of the United States, but it had a certain cultural cachet. Even if the rumor was not explicitly racist, Obama with a Kenyan father, schooling at a Muslim school (although not a madrassa) in Indonesia, and a globalist political stance could be seen as extra-American. The birther rumor had a political logic, even if the facts were against it.

However, Obama is not the only politician to have to confront a rumor that skips lightly over the truth but that addresses public concern, allowing us to use beliefs to reveal our hidden attitudes. Former Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich (and my former Congressperson) has announced that he will be running for Obama’s job. He would like to be discussing policy positions, but to many Americans he also brings a character deficit. To be sure, those who hold most strongly to this belief are not likely to be in the Newt camp, but the same could be said of the birthers and the president.

Gingrich is currently allied with a third wife. He is a serial adulterer, not necessarily a disqualifying trait for father of his country. However, in Newt-world the juicy rumor involves his first wife, his former high school geometry teacher whom he wed at 19. The rumor is that when his first wife was dying of cancer, Gingrich popped up cheerily and cheekily in her hospital room to ask for a divorce (perhaps he felt that she was “a little square” [I couldn’t resist a little geometric humor!]). The story, in the way it has been told, has flaws and holes. It lacks a birth certificate, but it does have legs. A quick Google search reveals that the story is all over the Internet.

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