When an important news story breaks, Americans turn to journalists for answers. Answers to questions like: Does this story "play into a narrative"? And what are the "optics" of the story? Because that's what really matters, right?
Or so you might have thought if you had been reading or watching the news for the past few days. Journalists and pundits were all in a tizzy because when Bill Clinton and Attorney General Loretta Lynch crossed paths recently at an Arizona airport tarmac, Clinton jumped on Lynch's plane to chat with her for a half hour, about such shocking topics as Clinton's grandchildren and their mutual friend Janet Reno.
The ensuing controversy looks like a prime example of the "Clinton Rules," under which the media treat even the most ludicrous allegations against Bill or Hillary Clinton as reasonable and worthy of extended examination, assuming all the while that their actions can be motivated only by the most sinister of intentions. And if the underlying substance of a story is indeed ludicrous-like the idea that Clinton hopped over to talk to Lynch because he wanted to urge her to put the kibosh on any possible indictment of his wife (in a semi-public setting with a bunch of other people standing around), and not because he's Bill Clinton and he loves chatting with important people-then you can just fall back on judging the "optics" and noting sagely that the story "plays into a narrative." Whatever you do, don't mention that the "narrative" is one you yourself are in the process of creating and sustaining, and when you say that the "optics" are bad, what you're really saying is, "It was a mistake because here I am on TV saying it was a mistake."
Here's a handy rule of thumb: The more people you see in the media talking about "narratives" and "optics," the less substantively meaningful the controversy they're talking about actually is. So: Is there a reason to condemn Clinton or Lynch for their tarmac chitchat that doesn't rely on the idea that one or the other should have known how it would look? The closest thing you can argue is that if there's an active FBI investigation of a matter that involves the wife of a former president, that former president should have no contact, private or public, with the attorney general. Even if that's an informal rule more intended to safeguard against the appearance of impropriety than actual impropriety, it's still a perfectly good idea. On the other hand, the fact that their talk took place with other people around makes any kind of undue influence vanishingly unlikely; you'd have far more reason to be concerned about something like a private phone call.
Here's what was going to happen if Clinton and Lynch had never spoken: The FBI would complete its investigation, the career prosecutors at the Justice Department would or wouldn't recommend an indictment, and Lynch, as the department's chief, would or wouldn't accept that recommendation. I doubt any serious person thinks the outcome of that process would be affected by the conversation Clinton and Lynch had. Yes, there are Republicans, including Donald Trump, who will say otherwise. But there are also lots of Republicans who think that the Clintons killed Vince Foster and that Barack Obama was born in Kenya; that doesn't mean you have to treat those ideas as anything other than the lunacy they are. But in the end, Lynch recused herself from the final decision on an indictment anyway. Why? Optics, of course.
Although this kind of thing happens with particular frequency to Bill and Hillary Clinton, that isn't to say that that faux controversies don't get whipped up about Republicans, too. For instance, over the weekend, Donald Trump retweeted an image of Hillary Clinton superimposed over a pile of money, with the words "Most Corrupt Candidate Ever!" contained within a Star of David. Anthony Smith of mic.com tracked down the source of the image: a particularly rancid online forum of racists and white supremacists. I won't link to it, but when I visited the forum Sunday afternoon, the top post was a story about Elie Wiesel under the headline, "DING DONG THE KIKE IS DEAD," followed by lengthy discussions on the criminality of non-white people, the dangers of race-mixing, and the superiority of the white race. And it isn't like this was an isolated incident. As David Weigel of The Washington Post noted, "For at least the fifth time, Trump's Twitter account had shared a meme from the racist 'alt-right' and offered no explanation why."
When the tweet started getting attention, the Trump campaign deleted it and replaced it with an altered image, this time with the Star of David replaced with a circle. My guess is that Trump got the image from one of his followers and retweeted it without giving it much thought. So is it a big deal, one worthy of multiple days of coverage? In and of itself, no. It doesn't prove anything new about Trump. But it's another demonstration of something that is troubling: Trump's words and policy goals have garnered enthusiastic support from racists, white supremacists, and neo-Nazis.
Jews are pretty far down on the list of groups Donald Trump is trying to get voters to hate and fear, so to be honest, I'm not much more concerned about his tweet than I am about Bill Clinton telling Loretta Lynch how cute his grandkids are. In both cases, the last question we should care about is what the optics or the narrative are. Either Hillary Clinton did or didn't do something wrong by using private email while at the State Department (she did), and either it will or won't be determined to be a crime (it almost certainly won't). In Trump's case, it isn't whether voters will react negatively to his extended game of Twitter footsie with white supremacists (much as one hopes they would). There's something real and meaningful underneath the tweets: the fact that Trump is running the most nakedly racist presidential campaign, in both rhetoric and substance, since George Wallace in 1968, or maybe Strom Thurmond in 1948.
I have no idea what lies within Trump's heart, and there's no way to know for sure. But when members of the KKK are endorsing you, neo-Nazis are praising you, and every steroid-addled racist frat boy rage-monster is totally pumped about your campaign, there's something much more important than the details of your retweeting habits at work. There's no reason journalists should have any shortage of questions about that to discuss.
