By Jove, I don't care for the cut of this fellow's jib

The New Yorker is shocked, shocked to learn that persuasiveness in human society sometimes depends on base emotional impact rather than elevated rationality. In a long essay devoted to the degradation of previously pristine political discourse since the days of declaiming in the agora, I mean, speaking from the back on trains on whistlestop tours, I mean, orating over the radio, I mean, winning the beauty contest on this newfangled teevee, I mean, getting down in the mud in what the kids are calling this social media thing, Andrew Marantz details the horror of the 2016 Trump campaign in the sniffiest possible New Yorker tones. He particularly deplores the skill of Trump's digital guru, Brad Parscale:

In 2016, three weeks after Election Day, Harvard’s Institute of Politics hosted a panel discussion featuring leaders of Hillary Clinton’s campaign and Trump’s campaign—the first public reunion of the now dunces and the now geniuses. It got heated.

“I would rather lose than win the way you guys did,” Jennifer Palmieri, Clinton’s director of communications, said.

“No, you wouldn’t, respectfully,” Kellyanne Conway, one of Trump’s campaign managers, said.

I laughed out loud almost all the way through, but never more than when reading references to things like "social media, where lies and fractious memes are disproportionately likely to be amplified." Could these people be any less self-aware? Did you know, for instance, that bad Republicans tried to spread rumors that Clinton had undisclosed ties to Vladimir Putin? Who would stoop to something like that?  To make matters worse, "This past fall, the Trump campaign ran a Facebook ad premised on the incendiary but false notion that the villain of the Ukraine corruption scandal was not Trump but Joe Biden."

It would be difficult to top this offhand reference to the Alamo by a Brahmin who may go to his grave never comprehending how the wrong sort of people end up holding influential public positions: "Parscale’s operation was unofficially called Project Alamo, a reference to the grisly encounter in a nineteenth-century border war between Texas separatists and the government of Mexico." But the author saves the best for last, simultaneously exposing his hilariously obvious double-standard and his desperate willingness to undermine an admission of truth with empty qualifiers:

“No one ever complained about Facebook for a single day until Donald Trump was President,” Brad Parscale has said. When the Obama campaign used Facebook in new and innovative ways, the media “called them geniuses.” When Parscale did the same, he continued, he was treated as “the evil of earth.” Despite the bombast and the false equivalence, this is basically true.

See? It's true, but it's full of bombast, and debunked by a false equivalence so obvious to right-thinking people that we don't even have to identify the equivalence, let alone the falsehood. Because we operate on a higher level of honesty and principle than that dreadful upstart.

I end on this hopeful note:

Since 2016, one of Parscale’s shrewdest innovations has been to turn the continuing rallies into data-mining opportunities. Tickets are free, but they can only be claimed by a person with a valid cell-phone number. The campaign now has a huge database of mobile numbers belonging to people who are motivated enough to attend a Trump rally, many of whom might not have shown up on a voter-registration roll or any other official data file.

“We have almost two hundred and fifteen million hard-I.D. voter records in our database now,” Parscale claimed last year, although his definition of “hard I.D.” is not clear. Even if Trump were banned from every social network, his campaign would be able to reach supporters by text.