Several months ago, Professor Ribstein commented on the phenomena in this election of Bush-bashing, which the Professor observed is premised on “an assumption that Bush and his supporters are not credible — that they are all idiots or worse.”
Along those lines, this Weekly Standard article by Andrew Ferguson examines how the political culture of Austin, Texas facilitated the Bush-bashing phenomenom. As Mr. Ferguson notes, Austin is . . . well, different from most other places in Texas:
With its university-town origins, its large population of musicians and artists, its long tradition of political liberalism, Austin is, as Jeff says, the “anti-Texas,” where “Texans who don’t really like Texas” choose to live. More important, it has also, in a larger sense, exported its own peculiar brand of Bush hatred to Democrats from one coast to the other.
And Mr. Ferguson points out that Austin’s brand of political opposition to President Bush may backfire big-time:
Austin has a lot to answer for, whether you’re a Democrat or a Republican. Ponder for a moment the strange course the presidential campaign has followed these last 18 months. Judged by the simplest, crudest criterion–comparing the state of the world as it was the day he took office with the world as it will be on the day he stands for reelection–George W. Bush should be the most easily beatable presidential incumbent since Jimmy Carter. A frontal assault on Bush’s record, repeated endlessly and packaged cleverly, might well have resulted in a walkaway win for whoever the Democrats had chosen to oppose him.
It hasn’t worked out that way, as we know. Bush’s opponents instead find themselves in a tight race they well might lose. There are lots of reasons why, but one surely is that instead of mounting a substantial critique of what the president has done and hasn’t done, his Democratic adversaries have obsessed over piecing together odd, paranoid caricatures of the man who’s driving them nuts–Bush as the agent of Halliburton, Bush as the idiot son of Robber Baron privilege, Bush the religious crank, the right-wing ideologue, the draft-dodger, the front man for Enron or Rove or the Saudi royals or J.R. Ewing.
Interestingly, Mr. Ferguson notes that the trouble with the Austin-style of opposition to Mr. Bush is the underlying insecurity of those who promote it:
[An essential characteristic of the Bush-haters is] hatred for themselves as Texans. “Keep Austin weird” is the cute, self-congratulatory, semi-official motto the city’s residents repeat insistently, and there is, sure enough, something weird here. But the city isn’t weird in the way Austinites think it is. No matter where in Austin you find yourself–the waiting room of an auto body shop, the men’s room of a beer joint–you’ll be confronted with a community bulletin board coated thickly with fliers announcing a poetry contest or some new development in Hatha Yoga technique. In that way Austin is no weirder than any other college town. It’s weirdness lies in the fact that, unlike every other college town–Madison, Wisconsin; Lawrence, Kansas; Eugene, Oregon–it has never made peace with its home state. Texas progressivism sets itself in opposition to its surroundings, defines itself by what it isn’t. It depends on a blend of boosterism (for Austin and for a few progressive neighborhoods in Houston) and contempt (for everything else north of the Rio Grande Valley and south of the Mason Dixon line). “The feeling you get in Austin sometimes,” Nathan Husted told me, “is like we’re all living in West Berlin during the Cold War.”
Even the flap over the now infamous 60 Minutes segment that relied on a untested forged document regarding Mr. Bush’s National Guard service has its genesis in the Austin culture of hatred toward Mr. Bush:
For our purposes, however, what was most interesting about the 60 Minutes imbroglio was the light it shed on the tiny, hermetic world of Texas Bush-hating. Rather himself–perhaps the world’s most prominent Texas Bush-hater–has a daughter, Robin, who is an activist in, and future contender for the chairmanship of, Austin’s Travis County Democratic party, which Rather once helped raise money for and whose chairman at that time, David Van Os, now serves as the attorney for Bill Burkett, who gave 60 Minutes the bogus documents and who has worked as a source for James C. Moore, who discovered the Austin4Kerry tape and whose book, Bush’s Brain, was co-written by Wayne Slater, Austin bureau chief of the Dallas Morning News, whose News colleague, Mark Wrolstad, is married to Mapes, who produced the 60 Minutes segment and who knew Moore when both were TV reporters in Houston, where Mapes still lives. It’s dizzying to think what Bush-haters would do with this web of intimacies if they were on the other side.
Read the entire piece. Quare: Is the Bush-bashing phenomena the natural result and counterbalance to the proliferation of demogogic right wing pundits that have arisen over the past decade (i.e., Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, etc.)? Or did the latter naturally evolve in response to the former?
Interesting thought but most states have the city the rest of the state looks at with suspicion. I went to college in upstate NY, where people complain endlessly about the NYC area (my home). it’s not that different from what I hear Texans saying about Austin.
I guess you could call me a “Bush hater,” except that personalizes things way too much. I do think his presidency has been a disaster, and I do find him personally distasteful, because of his rejection of rational thought and his endless lying. On the other hand, I had serious reservations about Clinton (though on balance I think he was good president, and might have gone down in history as a great one if not for the scandal at the end of his time in office), I didn’t like Bush Sr. much but I thought he did a better job than expected, and in the post-9/11 days I was pleasantly surprised by Bush Jr. In other words, I don’t think I’m a hopeless partisan, I’m a social liberal and fiscal moderate, an MBA-toting believer in capitalism who nevertheless sees the free market as a good thing that needs to be restrained in many cases (as opposed to worshiped in the Libertarian sense), and who has voted for a couple of Republicans over the years.
In other words, the kind of Democratic leaning voter who a moderate Republican should be able to sway into his side of things, who thinks Bush is the most radical president of his lifetime.
So calling it “Bush hatred” may make a nice soundbite, but I think it conveniently ignores the complexity of the opinion of a lot of people like me, who think just about anyone would be a better choice than Bush.
As for Kerry – I know the man’s limitations. He was my senator for nine years and I was never enthusiastic about him. I still think he’ll be a million times better than Bush as president.
The “culture of hatred” may be a personal vendetta for some Austinites, but I suspect a lot of them are like this Houstonian: simply disgusted by what they’ve seen for the last four years.
The Weekly Standard article on Austin rings oh so true. John above may be a nice and reasonable non-hating Bush-opposing Democrat, but the Austinnuts I see in action are not.
“The earlier American paranoids imagined their enemies in drunken orgies and were horrified; today they see them at prayer–and they’re still horrified.”
Several years ago in Austin I was attending a weekend Continuing Education course (counselors etc.) with New Age overtones, trances, word-magic, etc. It was held in a typical low-rent hotel meeting room.
Midmorning on Sunday, the faint strains of a hymn from a church meeting down the hall began, and the people around me began to fidget and pale. Complaining that the sound made them nauseated, the group agreed to break for lunch at 10:30 am. It reminded me of Transylvanians stranded without their garlic.
This kind of aversion among what is now the Bush-hating Austin demographic appears visceral and irrational (and, to be fair, involuntary), and those who engage in it seem to assume that anyone not so affected is stupid and evil. I grew up with hymns, so was nostalgic rather than offended by a musical phrase from “Power in the Blood;” and went to lunch quietly humming.
In its own small way, a clash of cultures visible and audible.