The New Criterion

The New York Press editor Jeff Koyen is outraged. Shortly after giving the go-ahead to Matt Taibbi’s now infamous Pope-bashing piece, Koyen was told to take two weeks to think (without pay) about "what the [Press] should be." Instead of complying, he quit his job. His statement on the matter, which condemns his bosses as "spineless" for not supporting him "in the face of harsh criticism," includes this telling bit:

Problem is, New York Press already is the paper it should be. We are iconoclastic, occasionally obnoxious but always intelligent. If you see through the nasty Pope jokes, for instance, you will see a well-reasoned political argument.

It never fails to amaze me what people can call, perfectly deadpan, a "well-reasoned political argument." Here is Taibbi’s elusive "argument," a sop to editors like Koyen who want to have their cake and eat it too--who want to publish nonsense with the rider that it be applauded as brilliant social commentary, a powerful exercise of free speech, and so on. Garbage qua garbage is far more easily digested.

22. Mankind scrambles to choose new leader of inflexible, sexually morbid institutional anachronism; heretofore anonymous bureaucrat will instantly be celebrated as world’s holiest man as he travels to AIDS-stricken Africa to denounce the use of condoms.

Now, in place of well-reasoned, let us consider safe or familiar, narrow or reductive. How about tacked on? Of course, Koyen knows there is nothing intellectually impressive about this; he knows what it’s there for. He is outraged not because he was kicked out of the plane, but because his parachute didn’t open. His descent is gratifying to watch.

Dr. Johnson said that patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel. It is perhaps the least enduring of his famous statements, in part because it is oblique and in part because it is too specific. It is often trotted out to condemn patriotism. What is actually implies is this: when something seems good in itself, though its value cannot be divorced from its use, that thing will be easily and frequently abused. Patriotism, benevolence, and--back to the matter at hand--free speech fit the bill.

I thought about this when, this past Sunday, I had the good fortune to watch The People v. Larry Flynt. I say good fortune not because the movie is any good, but because it neatly underscores a popular misunderstanding of free speech. The movie ends with Larry Flynt, publisher of Hustler magazine, winning a Supreme Court case against Jerry Falwell. Falwell had sued Flynt for libel, as the latter had printed an advertisement alleging that Falwell had committed incest with his mother. Flynt’s ad was recognized by the Court as protected speech--satire. It was undeniably crude and malicious satire, but satire nevertheless.

The film presents Flynt as a courageous champion of free speech. In fact, the U.S. Constitution is the real champion, and the Justices who uphold it do not deserve special praise for doing so--nor does Flynt for doing what it explicitly allows. The case probably did much to persuade the public that the mere exercise of a right is heroic. But shouldn’t the way a right is exercised be a subject of judgment? One is allowed to stand in Union Square screaming into a megaphone that George Bush is a mass-murdering Caligula, but that makes the statement no less ridiculous.

Likewise, Koyen had the right to publish Taibbi’s screed, but his superiors had the right to see it for what it was--useless, juvenile, and mean-spirited--and to act accordingly. People should not be intimidated or embarrassed into withholding judgment; they should not be afraid to turn judgment into action where the law allows it. Free expression is our right, but we respect it and nourish it best not simply by using it, but by using it to good ends.