Discordant Democracy: Noise, Affect, Populism, and the Presidential Campaign

Justin Patch

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2019
• Topic: History
• eBook ISBN:
  9781351613774
• Subtopic: Social History
• Index: History

Discordant Democracy: Noise, Affect, Populism, and the Presidential Campaign paints a portrait of the political experience at a pivotal time in American political and social history. The modern political campaign is aestheticized and assimilated into mass culture, divorced from fact and policy, and nakedly tethered to emotional appeal. Through a multi-modal comparative examination of the sonic and emotional cultures of the 2008 and 2016 campaigns, Justin Patch raises critical queries about our affective relationship to modern politics and the impact of emotional campaigning on democracy. Discordant Democracy asks: how do campaign sounds affect us; what role do we the electorate play in creating and sustaining these sounds and affects; and what actions do they generate? Theories from anthropology, cognitive science, sound studies and philosophy are engaged to grapple with these questions and connect bombastic mass-mediated political events, campaign media and individual sonic experience. The analyses complicate notions of top-down campaigning, political spin, and enthusiastic millennial populism by examining our role in producing and animating political sounds through conversation, applause, laughter, media, and music.

1 Introduction

Listening to the savage heart of the American dream

… You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning.

And that, I think, was the handle – that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting – on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave …

So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark – that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.

Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (ital. in original)

In the extraordinary presidential election of 2008, voluminous gatherings of supporters fawned over Barack Obama and turned presidential campaign stops into events and happenings, places of joy, enthusiasm, music, and dancing. In August of 2008, the hottest ticket in the country was a seat in Denver’s Invesco Field to see Obama deliver his Democratic nomination acceptance speech, where the soulful Motown strains and Nashville twang seamlessly bled together in a symbol of unity and lofty potential. Thinking back to those days ten years later, it seems like a lifetime since the exuberance of a candidate sounded, looked, smelled, and felt like a near-revolution, as if fortunes and futures destroyed by a brutal economic downturn could be wished away through the ballot box. In eight short years the soul of that American dream was tarnished by pugilistic partisanship, racism, xenophobia, neglect, and a zero-sum approach to governance. A cloud of collective neurosis – irrational fears and collective intolerance – has eclipsed the visceral sense of optimism that pervaded the 2008 campaign.

That is half of the story. The other half narrates 2008’s historic events in reverse. Ten years ago, radicalism and an irrational attachment to state control and government handouts, rather than free markets, self-reliance and determination, blindsided the electorate. Wishful, magical thinking and honeyed words entranced millions into voting for a neophyte politician whose ideas of governance, diplomacy, and the nation itself ran counter to personal, fiscal, and governmental responsibility. For many who celebrated Donald Trump’s victory in 2016, their narrative of fear, loathing, and American savagery was the ballooning state, increased regulation, and the specter of losing their America to un-American values, ideologies, and people. 2016 was a different moment of optimism. Trump, the anti-politician, was elected – winning a contest against Hillary Clinton, a symbol of Washington itself and object of conservative disdain.¹ Trump’s politically incorrect, factually suspect, and morally reprehensible campaign was the antidote to Obama’s perceived shift towards enhancing the margins at the expense of the center and heavy-handed imposition of political correctness. The extended malaise and demographic panic of white working-class communities translated into the racism-as-political-rhetoric of the Tea Party, conservative and alt-right commentary outlets, xenophobia, and Islamophobia.

Unlike Hunter S. Thompson’s Nixon-era dystopia, one need not travel to Las Vegas and look West and see where the wave broke and 2008’s piney optimism and sense of inevitable victory crumbled. The receding waterline left many tracks: signs of defeat, pessimism, and loss of faith are everywhere. Empty store fronts and malls testify to the fact that a rising economic tide does not lift all boats.² Foreclosed homes still dot the landscape in places where “Help Wanted” signs are in short supply, despite low unemployment numbers.³ Increasingly, gains in salary, home value, and personal wealth are distributed among an elite, leaving many behind in a state of stagnation.⁴ Job opportunities are still scarce for those without high levels of education, and underemployment is often the order of the day, despite the nation nearing “full employment.” The most startling example of America’s savage heart was the violence of the 2016 campaign. Save for the violence of the 1968 Democratic convention in Chicago and the notoriously bloody voter repression of the Populist and Jim Crow eras, 2016 was the most violent US presidential campaign in modern history. Stories and images of crowds openly fighting at Trump rallies were a constant, and the violence seemed to reflect the toxic, confrontational spirit of American politics, in Washington and at home. In the wake of 2016, hate crimes are on the rise and the violence in Charlottesville, VA, remains an open sore, as does the rise of men’s rights movements.⁵

Along with enduring economic frustration, grand national illusions were shattered in the eight years following Obama’s election. The ersatz sheen of a post-racial society has long since worn off. The racist language used to describe America’s first Black president proved that the euphoria felt by so many on November 4, 2008 was a cheap fantasy. Long-held convictions about the value of a college education have been crushed as debt from post-secondary educations hobbles people’s ability to achieve financial security and gain meaningful employment.⁶ While criticism of special interests and lobbyists runs rife on the campaign trail, the Supreme Court’s Citizens United decision opened the floodgates for private money in politics. In the halls of power, gridlock that was once dismissed as a natural part of the democratic process now seems entrenched, leading to historic public disapproval of Congress.⁷ The idea, put forward by the founders of Western democracy that the superior among the people would lead has effectively crumbled and reversed itself, and the political class are the snake oil salesmen of modern statecraft.⁸ As monuments to our illusions crumble, it is the disorganized and ugly undergrowth of rage, hatred, and disenchantment that climbs up from the base.

Under the grim shadow of racist discourse in the guise of political rhetoric and the cumulative effects of a post-industrial economy and demographic shifts, rigorous social justice movements have captured the public imagination. Many progressive movements criticize systemic intersectional failures and discrimination in economic, political, criminal, environmental, and healthcare policies. The messages of these movements are amplified by widely publicized incidents involving the unnecessary use of lethal force by law enforcement, racially motivated killings, a justice system that favors the wealthy and victimizes communities of color, and increased reporting on the waxing wealth gap.⁹ Conservative social movements like the Tea Party, Men’s Rights, and alt-right have given rise to organizations and media outlets that castigate immigration policy, outsourcing, government debt levels, affirmative action, and marriage equality. These reactionary social movements reflect deep anxieties about modernity and its new forms of social organization, labor, mobility, identity, and hierarchy.

Popular anger also leaves literal signs: yard signs, bumper stickers, hats, and T-shirts that read “Make America Great Again” or “Feel the Bern.” These emblems enunciate a rise in popular discontent, a desire for revolutionary change, an attraction to insurgent and anti-establishment candidates, and a rejection of the political values and ideologies that have defined major US political parties and practices for the past three decades. Millennial populism, found in nascent stages in 2008 and 2012, hit full steam in 2016, bolstered and popularized by the rise of the Tea Party and Occupy movements and the mainstreaming of their rhetoric.¹⁰ In the 2016 campaign, both major parties featured a confrontation between populist insurgents and establishment candidates. These candidates, considered fringe when they announced their bids, transformed the 2016 campaign and forced both parties to reckon with a narrow political system and culture that had not been truly listening to or feeling their constituencies. Presumed front runner candidates from both parties floundered as their words fell on deafened ears, their speeches failed to enliven audiences, and voters expressed their frustration at not being heard in the halls of power. 2016 was a crisis of listening and feeling, and Donald Trump rolled forward in waves of raw emotion, grimy rhetoric, and collective chants of “Build the Wall” and “Lock Her Up.” Even on the day of the election, most predictors had Clinton winning handily, but, as it turned out, the crisis of listening extended to politicians, reporters, and pundits.

In the 2008 Democratic primary, the polling numbers between Obama and Clinton were close. However, the optics and acoustics would lead a casual observer to believe otherwise. By comparison to Obama, Clinton’s rallies were modest in attendance and tone, and more pragmatic than euphoric in content. The noisy enthusiasm that surrounded Obama’s events dwarfed Clinton’s and filled supporters with a feeling of fellowship and inevitable victory. When the primaries ended, the general election pitted veteran Arizona senator John McCain against fiery upstart Illinois senator Barack Obama. The general election campaign began in the early earthquake of the recession and from the outset enthusiasm was the most pronounced difference between the two candidates’ rallies. Massive crowds gathered to hear Obama pontificate on unifying Red and Blue America, ending the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, closing the detention center at Guantanamo Bay, and change coming to Washington, not from it. Obama rallies were collective affairs, with music and chanting, and millions posting pictures and reactions on social media. In the general campaign, Obama’s rallies far outstripped McCain’s, whose supporters attended in small numbers and provided little sonic or affective support to enhance the experience. In an unusual move, McCain began campaigning alongside his running mate, Alaska Governor Sarah Palin (herself a political insurgent), because she drew much larger crowds, creating more favorable sonics and optics.

In 2016, this pattern repeated itself: sound and emotion were the first evidence of the insurgency. The Republican primary field was full of establishment candidates. Of the field of seventeen (the largest ever), nearly all were sitting or former governors and senators, except for Trump, CEO Carly Fiorina, and surgeon Ben Carson.¹¹ Although various candidates played up their outside-Washington and anti-establishment credentials, only Donald Trump succeeded in convincing the Republican rank and file of his outsider status. His string of primary victories was accompanied by throngs of fans filling up stadiums, civic centers, and airplane hangars to hear him speak. The signature sound of his campaign was uproarious applause and crowd chants. This noise was more important than his promises to build a massive border wall that Mexico was going to pay for, and more memorable than his bombastic campaign mix of hard rock and Broadway hits, or his offensive gaffes. Unlike his adversaries, Trump was able to whip crowds into an emotional frenzy, to choose the words and phrases that moved audiences to respond with voluminous responsorial chants, cheers, and boos. Not only could his rivals not compete, but Trump was able to drag them into his game of one-liners, tweets, snide remarks, and innuendo in vain attempts to elicit a crowd response that would rival Trump’s sonic boom of success. Even after Trump failed to deliver on his boldest proclamations, many who were moved by his words still believed in him.

Hillary Clinton’s 2016 campaign also faced a fiery populist insurgent in Senator Bernie Sanders. While Clinton stepped on stage with confidence gleaned from establishment support – and verbal commitments from hundreds of superdelegates – Sanders rallies grew in size and spectacle. The noise of the Sanders campaign confronted the Democratic establishment with progressive ideology that accused those in power of taking the progressive, female, Black, and youth voting blocks for granted. Sanders supporters uploaded tribute videos and photos to YouTube and Facebook, enthusiastically proselytizing in person and online, and stood in line for hours to see the septuagenarian socialist rattle the sword at the 1%, Wall Street, and a corrupt political system that hands out favors for the few to the detriment of the many. Not only did Sanders rallies resonate with the noises of the crowd, they were also bolstered by innovative uses of music. From Simon and Garfunkel to David Bowie, Vampire Weekend, and Michael Stipe, Sanders was able to use musical sound and culture to generate political sound, a tactic that bore the imprint of Obama’s 2008 campaign. But while Obama’s campaign had used music as an extension of the candidate, Sanders’ campaign used music as extensions of his supporters.

Feeling democracy

The brief twenty-first century, from 9/11 through the 2008 and 2016 campaigns, has brought substantial shifts in US domestic and global policy. From the US’s longest-ever military engagement, in Afghanistan, to anti-free trade sentiment, expansions of and exclusions from entitlement programs, the election of the first Black president, and the first president in history to emerge from neither elected office or the military, the future is unwritten and its rules of play dynamic, contradictory, and opaque. As we stumble into a dimly lit tomorrow, confronting new forms and articulations of politics, partisanship, coalition, and interconnection, we should grasp this opportunity to reinvent and reform our approaches to democracy as a constellation of embodied and imagined practices. Older concepts of democracy, from the public sphere to rational choice, have proven to be myths or wholly inadequate for confronting democratic modernity. While Jacques Rancière correctly identifies politics as a negotiation of difference, as the activity that happens in the absence of consensus and presence of irreconcilable ideologies, he also defines politics as “… before all else, [politics] is an intervention in the visible and sayable.”¹² I disagree. Politics are sensate, as the reception of what is sayable and the comprehension of the legible depend on how they affect citizens in visceral ways. Theorizing the tactility and invisibility of politics in a prescriptive and experimental way is necessary to reshaping our democratic selves and communities, and planning collective action. A political ear and an examination of the politics of listening are crucial to this project, as are critical explorations of sensation and democracy. It is necessary to critique a broken system and...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Table of Contents
• Acknowledgements
• 1. Introduction: listening to the savage heart of the American dream
• 2. Ethnography: getting spun as method
• 3. The campaign as modern magic
• 4. Prelude: the noise of politics / the politics of noise
• 5. Sonic democracy: the noise is the signal
• 6. The passions of politics: affect, empathy, and sound
• 7. The populist sensorium: the politics of sounding and the performance of listening
• 8. Our politics: deafened and dumbstruck
• 9. Conclusion: in defense of noise
• Index