[sixties-l] The Liar's Tale [Gitlin] (fwd)

From: sixties@lists.village.virginia.edu
Date: Tue Mar 19 2002 - 18:23:44 EST

  • Next message: sixties@lists.village.virginia.edu: "[sixties-l] "Loaded: A Misadventure On The Marijuana Trail" (fwd)"

    ---------- Forwarded message ----------
    Date: Tue, 19 Mar 2002 14:53:19 -0800
    From: radtimes <resist@best.com>
    Subject: The Liar's Tale [Gitlin]

    http://www.latimes.com/features/printedition/books/la-000019337mar17.story

       March 17 2002

            The Liar's Tale

            BLINDED BY THE RIGHT: THE CONSCIENCE OF AN EX-CONSERVATIVE,
            BY DAVID BROCK, CROWN: 336 PP., $25.95

            By TODD GITLIN

      Decades ago, self-revolted ex-communists personified History with a
      capital H when they brought back news of grand error and grand turnabout.
      Big ideas were at stake--and to blame. The six fine writers who
      contributed to the 1949 classic "The God That Failed" had chosen
      communism in the dire 1930s before coming to realize its systematic
      inhumanity. Arthur Koestler, Ignazio Silone, Stephen Spender, Richard
      Wright, Louis Fischer and Andre Gide, intellectuals all, wrote
      thoughtfully, even serenely.

      By contrast, Whittaker Chambers' "Witness" (1952) was a fervid exercise
      in spiritual self-renewal, flooded by the certainty that History, having
      betrayed Chambers by recruiting him for Soviet espionage, was now on his
      right side. Chambers, having arguably done far more direct damage, was
      correspondingly more agitated in the aftermath.

      David Brock's "Blinded by the Right" is a confession of a tawdrier color,
      though no less a classic contribution to this significant literature of
      our time. Arguably, Brock played a more momentous part in his movement
      than did his confessional predecessors in theirs. Accordingly, he is
      hugely contrite. He has much to be contrite about--much, much more than
      he owned up to in a confessional article published in Esquire in 1997.
      Anyone wishing to understand America in the 1990s will have to read his
      book. This time the conspirators are assassins of character (of Anita
      Hill, Bill Clinton), not of Trotsky. The right-wing crowd Brock fell in
      with in the late 1980s and 1990s was not terribly interested in ideas.
      These well-fed propagandists and lawyers (including an appellate court
      judge) moved among Washington D.C. townhouses and restaurants scheming to
      obstruct liberal causes and bring down the elected government of Clinton,
      whom they mistook for the antichrist.

      These slash-and-burn power-seekers fancied themselves "conservative" but
      were, and are, Brock says, "a radical cult," well-placed, well-funded and
      ruthless, who organized single-mindedly to get power by smearing their
      opponents and who succeeded brilliantly, with no small assist from him.

      As a student at UC Berkeley in the early 1980s, young Brock (born 1962)
      found himself revolted by a stifling "political correctness," an
      atmosphere he exaggerates. Berkeley seems to have sent him around the
      bend, but it does not seem to have taken much to put him in a crusading
      state of mind.

      From Berkeley onward, a network of right-wing foundations, think tanks
      and publications recruited, welcomed and subsidized him, escorting him
      from assignment to assignment, putting him on the national map.

      Right-wing campus journalism brought him to the attention of the Rev. Sun
      Myung Moon's Washington Times in the Reagan years, which in turn took him
      to the Heritage Foundation, from which he launched himself as a freelance
      writer for the American Spectator, then onward and upward into the
      innards of what he calls "a highly profitable, right-wing Big Lie machine
      that flourished in book publishing, on talk radio and on the Internet
      through the '90s."

      Enamored of Clarence Thomas, Brock came to national notice as the author
      of a Spectator article, "The Real Anita Hill," which gave the world the
      memorable smear, "a little bit nutty and a little bit slutty."

      "Doing everything I could to ruin Hill's credibility," Brock writes, "I
      took a scattershot approach, dumping virtually every derogatory--and
      often contradictory--allegation I had collected on Hill from the Thomas
      camp into the mix," producing "a witches' brew of fact, allegation,
      hearsay, speculation, opinion, and invective labeled by my editors as
      'investigative journalism.'"

      Boosted by Rush Limbaugh, Brock rolled this piece into a bestselling
      attack book by the same name. "Inventing" a conspiracy theory, he writes,
      he "unconsciously projected onto the liberals what I knew and saw and
      learned of the right wing's operations."

      How could such a career fail to flourish? He took money from a fervent
      Republican investor named Peter Smith ("I was a whore for the cash"), who
      put him in touch with a crew of Arkansas Clinton-haters. Failing to
      unearth a Clinton love child, they did deliver the state troopers who fed
      Brock with unsubstantiated allegations about Clinton's sexual exploits.

      These Brock dutifully loaded into a Spectator article that, in passing,
      mentioned a woman named Paula who alleged sexual harassment by then-
      governor Clinton. On the strength of this mention, a young woman named
      Paula Jones came forward to sue Clinton, permitting her right-wing
      lawyers to take depositions on the now-president's sex life, and the rest
      is history.

      Brock has an important idea about the schemers who brought down Clinton.
      Among the pungent details in his self-purgative, name-naming memoir are
      these about the right-wing Washington organizer Grover Norquist: "Grover
      admired the iron dedication of Lenin, whose dictum, 'Probe with bayonets,
      looking for weakness' he often quoted, and whose majestic portrait hung
      in Grover's Washington living room."

      The morning of George W. Bush's inauguration, the same Norquist told a
      Republican "unity breakfast": "The lefties, the takers, the coercive
      utopians.... They are not stupid, they are evil. EVIL." Such overkill is
      not incidental. When sufficiently well-funded ("sugar daddy" Richard
      Mellon Scaife shoveled more than $200 million into right-wing causes),
      rhetorical extravagance moves the rhetoric to a state of extremity at
      which evidence does not matter and hatred burns out of control. Brock
      was good at this genre, and he was only one fevered slinger of false
      allegations.

      Another, he writes, was former George W. Bush lawyer and now-Solicitor
      General Ted Olson who, he reveals, anonymously noted for the Spectator
      that "the appropriate comparison for Clinton may well turn out to be Don
      Corleone." What fuels such furies? What accounts for the take-no-
      prisoners ferocity of what Hillary Rodham Clinton in 1998 was mocked for
      calling a "vast right-wing conspiracy" to smear her husband long before
      he set foot in the Oval Office? Even about himself there remain
      mysteries, for Brock maintains that he "never shared" the "hard-right
      ideology" that he served.

      He does try out one interesting notion. A goodly number of his
      co-conspirators are closeted gays, as Brock was. They called themselves
      "laissez fairies." Most, he writes, were "in a constant state of panic
      about being discovered." They were, Brock thinks, classic projectors of
      their own inner demons.

      But this is too simple. Brock knew many heterosexual ragers too, not the
      least of which were many young attractive women. Why their fanatical
      bitterness toward Clinton and all his works? The strength of Brock's
      account does not lie in analysis. It's in his atmospherics and his moral
      revulsion, his revolt against himself and his lies.

      To supply sufficient motive to the protagonists of his tale, he might
      have reflected on the right's demonization of Clinton. Long before Monica
      Lewinsky had sent her curriculum vitae to the White House, Clinton was
      cast as the draft-dodging, non-inhaling, Hillary-marrying, zipper-
      lowering, deep-South-betraying smarty pants who had the talent and
      audacity to win--and rescue the Democrats from the marginality to which
      the Reagan movement had consigned them.

      When he dwelt in "the depths of depravity," Brock did not reflect much on
      the moral or political consequences of the Clinton-haters' corrupt
      crusade. Certainly his allies did not quiver with conscience qualms. They
      wanted results, period--and obtained them. Between judges and
      journalists, they succeeded brilliantly. Their impeachment drive crippled
      Clinton, stopped Al Gore in his tracks and ended the brief Democratic
      interregnum.

      Now the question arises of why Brock, who cut corners as "a witting cog
      in the Republican sleaze machine," a knowing liar who "mounted a cover-up
      to protect [Clarence] Thomas," deserves to be believed as a whistle-
      blower. One reason to take him seriously is that he is not particularly
      self-serving.

      On Page 7, he admits to what he himself calls "an embarrassing lie"
      during the time when he reacted to left-wing excess at Berkeley by
      veering right as a journalist for the student-run Daily Californian. He
      acknowledges other, bigger living lies: keeping from friends the facts
      that he was adopted and gay.

      He notes that, late in the game, he wrote a remorseful letter to Hill,
      confessing that he had maligned her. Hill left him a voicemail message in
      response. Even as he was turning, he "could not get up the nerve to
      return Hill's call," Brock writes. Eventually Brock got up the courage to
      detoxify, finding Hillary Clinton innocent of the voluminous charges his
      buddies leveled against her.

      There does not seem to have been a Hollywood moment, an Aha! when he
      decided to end his career as a paid propagandist and resolved to save
      himself. He tells us how he wearied of lying while confronting the
      Juanita Broaddrick rape charge, an accusation against Clinton whose
      plausibility melted away the closer Brock approached it. "When I examined
      the underlying record" on Whitewater, he also writes, "I found that
      rather than implicating Hillary along the lines suggested by the
      Republicans, it exculpated her."

      Despite a few trivial errors in his Berkeley pages, Brock's account
      overall rings with plausibility. On Thomas and Hill, his account
      dovetails with Jane Mayer and Jill Abramson's book, "Strange Justice."
      On Clinton and Arkansas, his account dovetails with previous unrefuted
      accounts by Joe Conason and Gene Lyons and Jeffrey Toobin.

      Attack journalism will have its way with Brock and may shake some
      details, but the last harsh laugh is likely to be his. Still, no one
      concerned about truth will be laughing. Brock has the decency to come
      clean and apologize, but his onetime allies ride unrepentant and high.

      -------
      Todd Gitlin is the author of, most recently, "Media Unlimited: How the
      Torrent of Images and Sounds Overwhelms Our Lives."



    This archive was generated by hypermail 2b30 : Tue Mar 19 2002 - 18:34:23 EST