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Tuesday, Nov 24, 2009
There are, of course, exceptions to every rule, but, generally, when liberal politics intersects with dramatic entertainment, the results can be pretty good. TV drama in the '80s was dominated by "St. Elsewhere" and "L.A. Law," and today by "The Practice" and "The West Wing." When conservatives do drama it comes out as "The A-Team" or "Red Dawn" or "The Omega Strain" or, even worse, "Rambo."
Liberalism and conservatism each have distinct roles to play in civil society, and this explains why one makes for drama and the other makes for comedy. Democracies change, historically speaking, at a very fast pace. Liberalism is the engine of change; it always seeks to push the culture forward, to advance and evolve. Sometimes it brings about good things (like the abolition of slavery) and sometimes it brings about not-so-good things (like forced busing). But it is always fighting to move beyond the status quo. And eventually liberalism wins because the status quo does change. This Sturm und Drang is the stuff of great drama: It tells of brave struggles that give way to glorious accomplishments.
In a recent episode of "The West Wing," Lowe's character is confronted by the daughter of the chief of staff, a public-school teacher. Her father has just shown her a position paper that Lowe had once written advocating school choice and, like any good member of the National Education Association, she is furious. The two wage a pointed debate on the merits of vouchers and she becomes exasperated that he can be such a Neanderthal. And then Sorkin shows us his fastball: Lowe admits to her sheepishly that the paper she saw wasn't a position paper but an opposition-research memo. Of course he doesn't support school choice. He was only playing devil's advocate. They hug and make up.
"The West Wing" is full of earnest arguments and moments of triumph and, dramatically, they're very satisfying. But when that sincere hopefulness is used as a source of comedy it falls hopelessly flat. Think back to Dixie Carter's ham-handed "I am woman" punch lines on "Designing Women." Liberal comedies are either insulting or boring.
That's because the flip side of the coin is that for all of their dramatic successes, liberal messages nearly always make for bad comedy. "Murphy Brown," "Ellen," and "Designing Women" verged at times on the unwatchable. "M*A*S*H," one of the best shows ever to appear on television, always sagged whenever Alan Alda began his sensitive political philosophizing.
And as antithetical as it may seem, conservatism makes for great sitcom characters. Archie Bunker was much funnier than Meathead and Gloria. George Jefferson grounded "The Jeffersons," and Alex P. Keaton, played to incorrigible Reaganite perfection by Michael J. Fox, created the humor that was in "Family Ties." Even "The Simpsons" fills its shows with endless tweaking of the liberal agenda. (In one famous instance, Sideshow Bob is sent back to prison screaming that one day he'll walk the streets again because you can't keep the Democrats out of office forever.) And the most conservative character on television is, unquestionably, Hank Hill from "King of the Hill."
Conservatives are, to paraphrase John Stuart Mill, the stupid party. Conservatism doesn't like change. It fights a perpetual holding action that it knows it can't win because nothing stays the same forever. Of course, when societies change too fast they fall apart at the seams (witness the 1970s). Conservatives are the brakemen on the train, never stopping forward progress completely, but keeping the pace slow enough that the engine doesn't jump the tracks.
It is not, however, a glamorous job. Conservatism has been on the losing side of most of the fights since Brutus and Caesar took it outside. This win-loss record is good for the conservative temperament, if bad for the ego. Conservatism can laugh at itself -- and it can laugh at others, too, because part of its job is to poke fun at the more ridiculous aspects of liberalism. In the comic arena this resignation to defeat is gold, but in drama it's creepy. When conservatism is injected into drama, it is often preachy, bitter or wildly unrealistic, the result of losing too many arguments to history and never getting credit for saving the world from devolving into anarchy.
For his part, Sorkin certainly doesn't give conservatives any credit. He blames them for everything from starving inner-city children to sending death threats to the president's daughter. And it's wildly entertaining.
