The Chris Matthews profile in the New York Times Magazine is a
fast-paced, entertaining, devastatingly accurate disgrace that is
beneath its talented author, Mark Leibovich, who should be ashamed of
himself. Readers cannot help but feel sorry for Mr. Matthews, cringing
each time he brags about how many honorary degrees he's earned, or upon
reading lines like, "If Matthews has an overriding professional
insecurity, it is being confined to the pigeonhole of cable blowhard.
The insecurity is well founded, since this is how many people view
him." Reading all the scenes where the subject talks to his profiler on
the phone or invites him into his house, I couldn't help but think of
Janet Malcolm:
Every journalist who is not too stupid
or to full of himself to notice what is going on knows that what he
does is morally indefensible. He is a kind of confidence man, preying
on people's vanity, ignorance, or loneliness, gaining their trust and
betraying them without remorse. Like the credulous widow who wakes up
one day to find the charming young man and all her savings gone, so the
consenting subject of a piece of nonfiction writing learns -- when the
article or book appears -- his hard lesson.
Generally I think that Janet Malcolm is wrong -- that the non-fiction
profiler's craft is morally defensible insofar as it is accurate,
informs the public about matters of importance and doesn't embarrass
its subject more than is necessary. Sometimes that justifies writing
pretty stern stuff. Two instructive examples are recent devastating
profiles of Tim Russert, a colleague of Mr. Matthews at NBC.
My colleague Matthew Yglesias and Paul Waldman make overlapping points.
Here's Matt:
Viewers watch a candidate getting grilled by Russert not to assess the candidate's views but to assess his or her ability to withstand the grilling.
And, when this sort of toughness and sparring becomes its own reward,
the vacuity of the questioning is almost guaranteed. After all, if you
asked a politician a serious, important question and got a perfectly
good answer, then maybe, for a moment, you couldn't be tough. Instead,
Russert relies on his crutch of confronting politicians with allegedly
contradictory statements they've made—to highly monotonous effect.
And Waldman:
I have a fantasy that at one of these moments, a candidate will say,
"You know what, Tim, I'm not going to answer that question. This is
serious business. And you, sir, are a disgrace. You have in front of
you a group of accomplished, talented leaders, one of whom will in all
likelihood be the next president of the United States. You can ask them
whatever you want. And you choose to engage in this ridiculous gotcha
game, thinking up inane questions you hope will trick us into saying
something controversial or stupid. Your fondest hope is that the answer
to your question will destroy someone's campaign. You're not a
journalist, you're the worst kind of hack, someone whose efforts not
only don't contribute to a better informed electorate, they make
everyone dumber. So no, I'm not going to stand here and try to come up
with the most politically safe Bible verse to cite. Is that the best
you can do?"
So why do I abide that level of excoriation but feel repelled by the
Chris Matthews profile? I think it's because the Tim Russert pieces are
important to public discourse -- they present plausible, substantive
and useful arguments for why the style of a man who presides over our
presidential debates is harmful to our politics. Chris Matthews is a
similarly powerful figure who holds sway over American political
debate, you might say, and that's true enough. I wouldn't object to
every critical piece about him.
But the NY Times Magazine piece goes to great pains to show that
Matthews is arrogant, insecure, boorish -- it revels in each supporting
detail -- not to make some useful point about how cable news might be
better, or some other arguably useful point, but merely for the sake of
an entertaining profile. I suppose one could argue that as an
influential public figure it's somehow useful that we all know Mr.
Matthews better, which brings me to the most damning detail of all --
at profile's end, for all the excruciating detail Mr. Matthews has
suffered, I don't actually feel as though I've learned very much useful
new information about him at all.
After all, who can watch even a few minutes of Chris Matthews without
understanding his persona -- the rough around the edges smarts, the
occasional boorishness, the ego, the insecurity, etc? Why embarrass and
shame someone for the sake of revealing what's obvious to everyone
already?