Yesterday, Maureen Dowd gave Rick Santorum the public evisceration that was coming to him as soon as his presidential campaign transitioned from “comedic” to “plausible” (a journey taken by all the Republican primary candidates at some point, except for Mitt Romney, whose campaign has gone in the opposite direction).
It’s good to see Santorum’s fundamentalism be declaimed from a platform as prominent as Dowd’s, because I was beginning to suspect he was getting away with his Catholic extemism.
I first heard about Santorum when Dan Savage redefined his name back in 2003 after one of Santorum’s demented homophobic outbursts. When he lost his Senate seat in 2006, I thought his name would live on in infamy, rather than the headlines. So it’s with with slack-jawed amazement that I’ve watched his rise to possible presidential candidate – this guy would be considered too much of a Holy Joe in 1980s Donegal, never mind 2010s America!
Juan Cole has done a masterful job of debunking Santorum’s supposed conformist Catholicism – as usual with fundamentalists, he is picking and choosing the doctrines that are most convenient in waging politically expedient culture war. So the right to life of the unborn child is sacrosanct, of course, but the right to life of the convicted felon not so much. Preventive war is condemned by the Pope, happily accepted by Santorum. The list goes on.
I was baffled that such an extremist could be taken seriously on the political stage, even in a climate as polarised as the US. But then, a few nights ago, I watched Louis Theroux’s documentary The Most Hated Family in America in which he visited the notorious Phelps clan who make up the deranged Westboro Baptist Church. They’re the ones who picket soldiers’ funerals, other churches and synagogues, screaming hateful, homophobic bilge about how much God hates fags. To call them fundamentalists would suggest they have some grip on theological fundamentals. It was extremely difficult to watch, but it helped me understand the mystery of Santorum’s acceptance.
When biblically fuelled bigots such as the Phelps mark the outer extremes of religious extremism in the US, the likes of Rick Santorum are bound to appear positively mainstream, even vaguely reasonable. His hateful, homophobic bilge isn’t quite as offensive as theirs, his fornication-obsessed brain isn’t quite as loopy as theirs, and his knowledge of the bible isn’t quite as selective as theirs. And of course it’s not just in comparison with the Phelps that Santorum seems reasonable – there’s a whole spectrum of evidence-rejecting, prejudice-spewing extremism in the US, on all sorts of issues. It corrodes the public discourse at the margins, of course, but worst of all is that it inevitably legitimises demagogues like Santorum.
There might be some comedy value in this Republican race, seeing which candidate can come up with the dumbest soundbite or the most offensive remark, but I fear we’ll all end up paying a high price for the entertainment.
The Santorum Conundrum
Yesterday, Maureen Dowd gave Rick Santorum the public evisceration that was coming to him as soon as his presidential campaign transitioned from “comedic” to “plausible” (a journey taken by all the Republican primary candidates at some point, except for Mitt Romney, whose campaign has gone in the opposite direction).
It’s good to see Santorum’s fundamentalism be declaimed from a platform as prominent as Dowd’s, because I was beginning to suspect he was getting away with his Catholic extemism.
I first heard about Santorum when Dan Savage redefined his name back in 2003 after one of Santorum’s demented homophobic outbursts. When he lost his Senate seat in 2006, I thought his name would live on in infamy, rather than the headlines. So it’s with with slack-jawed amazement that I’ve watched his rise to possible presidential candidate – this guy would be considered too much of a Holy Joe in 1980s Donegal, never mind 2010s America!
Juan Cole has done a masterful job of debunking Santorum’s supposed conformist Catholicism – as usual with fundamentalists, he is picking and choosing the doctrines that are most convenient in waging politically expedient culture war. So the right to life of the unborn child is sacrosanct, of course, but the right to life of the convicted felon not so much. Preventive war is condemned by the Pope, happily accepted by Santorum. The list goes on.
I was baffled that such an extremist could be taken seriously on the political stage, even in a climate as polarised as the US. But then, a few nights ago, I watched Louis Theroux’s documentary The Most Hated Family in America in which he visited the notorious Phelps clan who make up the deranged Westboro Baptist Church. They’re the ones who picket soldiers’ funerals, other churches and synagogues, screaming hateful, homophobic bilge about how much God hates fags. To call them fundamentalists would suggest they have some grip on theological fundamentals. It was extremely difficult to watch, but it helped me understand the mystery of Santorum’s acceptance.
When biblically fuelled bigots such as the Phelps mark the outer extremes of religious extremism in the US, the likes of Rick Santorum are bound to appear positively mainstream, even vaguely reasonable. His hateful, homophobic bilge isn’t quite as offensive as theirs, his fornication-obsessed brain isn’t quite as loopy as theirs, and his knowledge of the bible isn’t quite as selective as theirs. And of course it’s not just in comparison with the Phelps that Santorum seems reasonable – there’s a whole spectrum of evidence-rejecting, prejudice-spewing extremism in the US, on all sorts of issues. It corrodes the public discourse at the margins, of course, but worst of all is that it inevitably legitimises demagogues like Santorum.
There might be some comedy value in this Republican race, seeing which candidate can come up with the dumbest soundbite or the most offensive remark, but I fear we’ll all end up paying a high price for the entertainment.