It’s
easy to banish Monica Lewinsky to a cultural corner — a remnant of a
time in politics that most Americans would like to forget. The president
and the intern. The blue dress. “I did not have sexual relations with
that woman.” All of it feels so tawdry — so, well, gross. It was a
little too much information back then — and thinking about it now seems
to serve absolutely no purpose.
What we all forget is that
Lewinsky was a White House intern in the late 1990s. She was in her
early 20s. While our gazes got diverted over the years — Kardashians!
Anthony Weiner! Something else! — Lewinsky kept living her life. And
now, at 41, she is reemerging — not to remind us all of that time in her
and our lives but rather to testify from her unique perspective about
the dangers of political bullying.
Lewinsky gave a TED talk in Vancouver, B.C., this past week,
addressing her experiences with bullying. What she had to say is
important — for those of us who cover politics, the politicians who get
covered and the people like Lewinsky just caught in the maelstrom.
“For
nearly two decades now, we have slowly been sowing the seeds of shame
and public humiliation in our cultural soil,” Lewinsky said. “Gossip Web
sites, paparazzi, reality programming, politics, news outlets and
sometimes hackers traffic in shame. Public humiliation as a blood sport
has to stop. We need to return to a long-held value of compassion and
empathy.”
Lewinsky’s words echo a eulogy that former senator John Danforth (R-Mo.) delivered recently for Missouri state auditor Tom Schweich, who apparently committed suicide amid a whisper campaign about his Jewish heritage.
Here’s
a part of what Danforth said: “We read stories about cyberbullying, and
hear of young girls who killed themselves because of it. But what
should we expect from children when grown-ups are their examples of how
bullies behave? Since Thursday, some good people have said, ‘Well,
that’s just politics.’ And Tom should have been less sensitive; he
should have been tougher, and he should have been able to take it. Well,
that is accepting politics in its present state, and that we cannot do.
It amounts to blaming the victim, and it creates a new normal, where
politics is only for the tough and the crude and the calloused. Indeed,
if this is what politics has become, what decent person would want to
get into it? We should encourage normal people — yes, sensitive people —
to seek public office, not drive them away.”
I
find myself at something of a crossroads on all of this. On the one
hand, I have long subscribed to the “politics ain’t beanbag” school of
campaigns — meaning that the most important thing is winning actual
victories, not moral ones.
On the other hand, as a victim of
bullying in ninth and 10th grade that left me miserable, as well as the
dad of two little boys, I am acutely aware of and concerned about the
damage bullying can and does do — especially now, as Lewinsky notes, in
the Internet age.
“Millions of people, often anonymously, can
stab you with their words, and that’s a lot of pain, and there are no
perimeters around how many people can publicly observe you and put you
in a public stockade,” Lewinsky said in her TED talk. “There is a very
personal price to public humiliation, and the growth of the Internet has
jacked up that price.”
I haven’t totally resolved whether my two
competing realities are incompatible or not. But what I do believe is
that there is a line — societally — that shouldn’t be crossed when it
comes to how we treat each other. Sure, the anonymity of the Internet
makes it incredibly easy to say whatever you want about virtually
anyone. That cloak of anonymity frees you from the responsibility of
owning your allegation, providing proof or doing something as simple as
coming face-to-face — even electronically — with the person you are
sliming.
Winning can’t be the rationale to excuse all behavior.
Yes, winning is the end goal of all political campaigns, but there is a
cost — personal and societal — every time that line of decency is
crossed. Using people as tackling dummies to score political points is
ultimately detrimental to what our society should value. It turns people
into caricatures, two-dimensional cardboard cutouts rather than fully
realized individuals.
Again, Lewinsky says it well: “I was branded as a tramp, tart, slut,
whore, bimbo and, of course, ‘that woman.’ I was known by many, but
actually known by few. I get it. It was easy to forget ‘that woman’ was
dimensional and had a soul.”
All
of this is easier said than done — for me and, I think, most of us. The
realities of human nature (we all love a bit of schadenfreude) and
business (Lewinsky drew eyeballs and readers like few other stories
before or since) make drawing a line in the sand and saying “enough”
difficult.
What I hope is that it doesn’t take another Lewinsky
or, even worse, another Schweich, to convince people in politics and
journalism that there is such a thing as “too far,” and it’s at least in
part up to us to help define what that looks like.
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