
It will be hard to look back on this year without thinking of Glenn Beck. He nurtured and kept alive the ugliness and paranoia that Sarah Palin first conjured during the election of 2008 and that now seems poised for a great political victory in the coming Congressional elections.
So this would seem to be the right time for a full consideration of Beck and his influence, but there's something about him that defies such consideration. "To write a serious critique of Glenn Beck is almost a waste of time,"
according to Thomas Frank. And in a way, he's being generous, since it's also a waste of time just to watch his show, as I discovered this summer when members of Congress were returning to their districts and confronting their constituents' angry protests against proposals to extend health care coverage to the uninsured. Since I found the whole thing ridiculous, and since the protesters seemed to be taking their cues from Beck's show, I began tuning in everyday at five o'clock on the TV in my office. I thought watching Beck while going about my other business would be fun in a perverse, cynical way. What I found instead was that watching Beck is indescribably boring. The show consists of nothing but the host spouting conspiracy theories that are more mind-numbing than laughably stupid, and the endless, repeated playing of video clips in which some official of the Obama administration is caught in a gaffe that reveals her secret Maoist agenda. Beck doesn't seem to have many live guests on his program and when they do appear they almost always take his side. Although his use of blackboards to sketch out various conspiracies provided a few chuckles and there was at least
one instance of truly comic misspelling, I ended my few weeks as a loyal Beck-viewer feeling worn-down and depressed. The attempt to laugh at the enemy had failed. I also got very little of my regular work done due to all the agonizing over why it had failed.
Maybe it would be fine to dismiss Beck as stupid and mindless. Yet he is a central figure in the American political scene of the moment. If the kind of politics that Sarah Palin practiced in 2008 flourish in 2010, then it will be due in no small part to him.
Perhaps the best way to think of Beck is as a "study in the pathology of cultural criticism." This is what
one historian of modern Germany has done to explain how intellectuals and writers of the late nineteenth century set the stage for what was to come later. Much like Beck, the subjects examined in "The Politics of Cultural Despair" by Fritz Stern all "sought to become prophets who would point the way to a national rebirth." As Frank observes, Beck's routines are like violent mood swings that go from ranting about social ills to weepy expressions of "goo-goo civic togetherness in which we overcome various plots 'to keep us from uniting,' in which we get together and realize we 'are not alone.'" Like the inventors of what Stern calls the pre-Nazi "Germanic ideology," Beck leaps from "despair to utopia across all existing reality."
Naturally, there's a huge difference between the subjects of Stern's scholarly work and Glenn Beck. The writers Stern wrote about, though demented, were real intellectuals of the pseudo-conservative revolution, whereas Beck is more like its rodeo clown. In our times, however, maybe the best way to understand him and where he's dragging us is to treat Glenn Beck as though he were a serious thinker.