Letter: Senator, you’re no . . .

Submitted by Aaron Arkin.

Recently, for two days the entire Town of Steilacoom intermittently lost electric power, leaving me without a hot supper and several hours of free time to contemplate in the dark who knows what or why.

It was during one of these meandering states that I began to think about the famous interchange during a 1988 debate between Senator Dan Quayle and Senator Lloyd Bentson. It occurred at a town hall meeting where both Quayle and Bentson were campaigning for Vice President on their respective Party tickets.

In response to a question about his youth and experience, Quayle made reference to Kennedy in the context of how much time each had been in the Senate. To this, Bentson retorted with what now is considered one of the best ripostes in the modern political lexicon; a way to deflate politicians perceived as thinking too highly of themselves: “Senator, I served with Jack Kennedy. I knew Jack Kennedy. Jack Kennedy was a friend of mine. Senator, you’re no Jack Kennedy”. This received much applause.

Quayle responded by saying, “That was really uncalled for, Senator”. But I think had Quayle thought more about it, he would have preferred to have had a more pointed response. Alas, like the rest of us who regret what we have failed to do or say in such fraught moments, he cannot go back and undo history. Allow me therefore, on behalf of all who have been unfairly admonished, berated, castigated, chastened, cold-shouldered, derided, impugned, lectured, mocked, ridiculed, rebuked, reprimanded, rebuffed, rejected, reproached, reproofed, shorted, snubbed, spurned, trounced, upbraided or otherwise verbally assaulted, to offer Mr Quayle a more complete and satisfying rejoinder.

“Senator, as you say, you knew Jack Kennedy. I don’t dispute that. But you do not know me. I have a record of honorable public service. While you may not agree with me politically, I am not a hypocrite and have fully supported the causes in which I believe. You do not know my moral compass, my personal battles, obstacles against which I’ve struggled for hard-won successes, failures I regret but have tried to learn from, decisions I’ve made that have helped others, what I deeply care about, not only for loved ones, but for those I have served. You do not know what drives me to continue to serve and contribute. In short, you do not know me. You do not know my heart.

“You know nothing of all of that. Yet, you would flippantly judge and ridicule me with a cheap debating-point. Senator, your remark may get you applause in the moment, but it will not outlast its baseless or unprovoked cruelty. It will not serve or speak well of you.”

Take that, self-satisfied putdown artists!

Clever barbs such as Senator Bentson’s, like many vivid metaphors, can be a disservice to our critical thinking efforts. Though metaphor can provide clarity or identify hidden similarities, they may also capture our imagination to the point where we are inclined to go no further in dissecting and evaluating the information being presented to us. After all, why give credence to what Senator Quayle has to say if we feel in light of the comparison made to President Kennedy (a much more popular and charismatic persona), that Quayle was just a lightweight?

But, as the above fanciful response I’ve provided Senator Quayle shows, he could have said a lot more. He could have provided a heart-felt description of who he was and what he stood for, and why Senator Bentson’s remark was unfair, gaining him better standing with the audience; and had he said all that, would have cast an unfavorable light on Senator Bentson.

Watching the news, it is striking how often public figures resort to the power of metaphor in support of or against something or somebody. We would do well to go beyond the metaphorical image and ask ourselves, does it really describe the issue before us; or is it deceptive, an attempt to short-cut our critical faculties and instead influence us emotionally?

As (likely) the most sentient creatures on the planet, we owe it to ourselves to listen to but move beyond the metaphor, to consider the relationship posed by the metaphor but to also do our best to see what is true and real. We should not be derailed in that effort by a clever but often misleading comparison, a provocative but often a limited and deceptive version of reality put out there to satisfy the agenda of others.

If nothing else, the effort is an excellent brain exercise.