We’re surprised because
it’s Jeff Greenfield. Of all the pundits our analysts followed
through the 2000 White House campaign, we thought that Greenfield may
have done the best job of standing apart from the scripting. On March
5, 2000, E. R. Shipp described— to a T— the way the press
was reporting the race. We ourselves had long described the way the
corps would “novelize news”— would shape facts to fit a
preconceived, pleasing story. To Shipp, then the Washington
Post’s ombudsman, it was like her paper was scripting a drama:

SHIPP: [R]eaders react— sometimes in a nonpartisan way, more often not— to roles that The Post seems to have assigned to their actors in this unfolding political drama.
Gore is the guy in search of an identity; Bradley is the Zen-like
intellectual in search of a political strategy; McCain is the war hero
who speaks off the cuff and is, thus, a “maverick”; and Bush is a
lightweight with a famous name…As a result of this approach, some
candidates are whipping boys; other seem to get a free pass.

In this column— the most
righteous work from the mainstream press corps all year— Shipp
was criticizing Ceci Connolly’s hapless “Love Canal” reports,
which were written in December, 1999. But Shipp perfectly nailed the
general process by which the press was inventing the news. In
Shipp’s view, the Post wasn’t really reporting what
happened; the paper instead had laid out a “drama,” and was bending the
news to fit its preconceived story. No one else, throughout this
election, did such a good job of describing the way the mainstream
press throws truth away in order to tell preferred tales.

And now, the process is being
extended into the press corps’ election post-mortems. The
Official Press Version of Election 2000 is now being set into stone. In
Newsweek’s November 20, 2000 edition, Evan Thomas
started the process; his 4500-word piece, “What A Long, Strange Trip,”
retold the election from beginning to end, relating the tale exactly as
the press corps had told it in real time. Other scribes are now
publishing books that tell the Official Approved Story. And just as
Shipp suggested in her piece, events are being rearranged to tell the
story as it was scripted; the election’s Key Events are being
reshaped and told as the press likes to tell them. If scribes have to
invent, rearrange or bury some facts, well, that’s the price that
we pay for “drama”— for the pleasure that comes from the scripted
tales the press planned to tell from the start.

And for a perfect look at this cheesy process, we suggest that you go read Jeff Greenfield. His new election book is titled, “Oh, Waiter! One Order of Crow!” and
we suggest that you open as fast as you can to his account of Bush and
Gore’s first debate. Clearly, this was one of the pivotal events
in the 2000 White House campaign. And writers like Greenfield will nip
and tuck with the truth— all so you will think it happened the
way they like to tell it.

Greenfield’s account of this
debate perfectly fits the Official Press Story. According to this
iconic tale, officious Gore lost all three debates— and perhaps
the election— with his obnoxious, disruptive behavior. In the
debates, the American people got a chance to see what an unlovely
creature Vile Gore really was. And no only that— this debate
confirmed the portrait of Gore which the insightful press corps had
dished all along. The first debate confirmed the wisdom of the press
corps and its view of reality.

That’s roughly how the press
told the tale in real time— with a couple of days to get its
story together— and that’s precisely how Greenfield tells
it. The debates were “remarkable,” Greenfield says. And then he tells
us why:

GREENFIELD (page
193): The vice president, a veteran of forty debates during his
political career, the man who had demolished Ross Perot on a free-trade
debate on Larry King Live, the man with a sharp instinct for the political kill, lost all three debates. He lost them not because George W. Bush was especially impressive, but because Gore managed— in every one of the debates—
to ram home the impression that he was precisely the smug,
condescending politician of the stereotype who would in fact say
anything to be president. This is a harsh conclusion. What makes it
especially sad is that some of Gore’s most devoted supporters
share it, even if they would use different words to describe it.
[Greenfield’s emphases]

One has to chuckle at
Greenfield’s last statement. What are we told? “Some of
Gore’s most devoted supporters” (unnamed, unquoted) share
Greenfield’s view, although “they would use different words to
describe it.” They would use different words to describe it!! By
that standard, of course, the Pope shares Charlie Manson’s views,
and Christopher Hitchens agrees with Pol Pot. Enjoy a good laugh while
you can, though, dear readers— what follows from Greenfield may
prove less amusing. But that last sentence drives home one key
point— there is simply no end to the silly constructions this
press corps is willing to conjure.

According to Greenfield, Gore lost all three debates (Greenfield’s emphasis), showing to voters in every one of the debates
(Greenfield’s emphasis) that he “would in fact say anything to be
president.” “This is a harsh conclusion,” Greenfield mourns— but
he’s willing to spin you a bit to sustain it. In
Greenfield’s account of Bush and Gore’s first debate, he
makes bald misstatements of simple fact— and fails to let you
know the way he described the debate in real time. That’s right,
folks— immediately after the debate occurred, it was Bush whose conduct Greenfield lightly decried. But that was then, and his is now, as Jeff Greenfield gets with the program.

Jeff Greenfield