The Psychology of John McCain's Humour

A person's sense of humour can tell us a great deal about his or her character—the kind of person he or she is. It unwittingly reveals what lurks deep within his or her unconscious, in much the same way that slips of the tongue (so-called "Freudian slips") do. John McCain's humour is no exception.

A prime example of McCain's crude attempt at humour is his parody of the Beach Boys' song "Barbara Ann." In front of a live audience of thousands (counting those watching on TV), he sang (or at least tried to sing): "Bomb, bomb, bomb; Bomb, bomb Iran." It has to be admitted that as far as song parodies go, this is "clever" is a sophomoric sort of way—but hardly the sort of thing you would expect from a presidential candidate. It is more in the league of schoolboy parodies of "Happy Birthday" and "On Top of Old Smokey"—extremely low-brow. But quite apart from that, the fact that he should find the bombing of Iran funny (and a subject to joke about) says a great deal about the kind of president he would make. This is no trigger-happy cowboy, like the present incumbent! No, this is man with a great deal of repressed rage, which, though well concealed (because it is so deeply repressed), bubbles up to the surface unbidden, every now and then, in unguarded moments, in the sublimated form of (among other things) silly and seemingly "harmless" parodies and jokes. What we spontaneously joke about we take the most seriously; only, we cannot admit to ourselves consciously that we take it seriously, so we joke about it in an attempt to convince ourselves that we don't really take it seriously. (Ever noticed how the straight men who are the loudest in telling jokes about gays are the ones who are least willing to come to terms with their own homosexual tendencies?) If McCain jokes about bombing Iran, he is doing it entirely for his own sake, and he is fooling no one but himself in the process.

Another of McCain's pathetic attempts at humour was his offhanded remark about how he would define the middle class. With his typical affectation of nonchalance, he tossed of the figure—"five million a year." Since he was not prepared for the question, we can assume that what he said was the first thing that came to his mind. This is somewhat like the word association experiments that psychologists do to assess a person's psychological status: they give the person a word and the person is supposed to say the first word that comes to his or her mind. Once again, McCain's response reaches into the depths of his unconscious. And it suggests that in his unconscious he lives in a fantasy world in which the people are all multimillionaires and own so many homes that they cannot keep track of how many. But setting that aside, the fact that his first instinct was to joke about such a matter is itself telling: he had not given the issue any serious thought prior to being asked the question (though as a presidential candidate he should have), and his immediate and spontaneous reaction was to make light of it (such is the estimation in which he holds the nation's economy). And even when he forced himself to take the matter seriously after the initial impulse to joke about it, he fumbled with his response and his answer was not altogether satisfactory.

Hyperbole is often an effective tool in the humourist's arsenal, and John McCain uses it all too freely—albeit (once again) unconsciously. He once bragged about being willing to follow bin Laden to the gates of Hell. A nice line—but, as Barack Obama pointed out, in seven years and more, we haven't even got as far as the caves of Tora Bora—a far cry from the gates of Hell. So McCain's braggadocio in connection with the gates of Hell is really just a lot of empty rhetoric with no basis in reality. If for seven years bin Laden has eluded what is supposedly the "most powerful nation on earth," with the world's best resources at its command, he is quite capable of eluding it for the next seven and more. My guess is the McCain will be dead by the time bin Laden gets to the gates of Hell, so his hyperbole rings hollow. But the most telling of McCain's hyperbolic utterances is the declaration of his determination to win the war in Iraq even if it takes a hundred years. Fine rhetoric, but does it show good judgement politically, given that most Americans are tired of the war and want it to end as soon as possible and the troops to come home? Is this the sort of thing to be hyperbolic about, especially during a presidential campaign? Hardly! McCain is said to have a great love of literature, and must surely have come across Shakespeare's oft-quoted line, "Discretion is the better part of valour." Whatever the case, it is quite evident that McCain does not subscribe to this view. His "hundred year" hyperbole (we will not hold him to it literally) tells us that at a very fundamental level he sees life in the simplistic terms of winning and losing and that his unconscious attitude to life is that of winning at all costs. As a veteran of the Vietnam War, he should know only too well that there sometimes comes a point at which discretion tells us that it is time to stop fighting because the war is unwinnable. One can of course declare victory and go home, even if one has not won, as the US did in Vietnam. But leave it they did, and without winning a victory—or anything even vaguely resembling a victory—and certainly not after a hundred years, hyperbolic or otherwise. Valour carried beyond the point of discretion is nothing more than cheap bravado. And no amount of bravado in Vietnam could hide the fact that when the US finally pulled out, it had its tail firmly between its legs. It is difficult to walk in a dignified manner with one's tail between one's legs, but McCain appears not to have learned his lesson. His show of determination to win the Iraq War ("determination" being a more charitable way of saying "bravado") and his resorting to the unfortunate hyperbole of a hundred-year stay in that country indicates an unwillingness on his part to entertain the possibility that the war in Iraq might just be unwinnable. Such closed-mindedness (a more charitable way of saying "pig-headedness") amounts to a character defect, one that is certainly highly undesirable in a president. It is precisely such "pig-headedness" that got the US in to the Iraq War in the first place. So McCain's unconscious hyperbole about the war in Iraq makes him not much different (at least in this respect) from the swaggering, trigger-happy, "shoot-first-think-later" cowboy who currently occupies the White House. At the most fundamental level, "a-hundred-years-in-Iraq" is not much different from "bring-'em-on": both are examples of garish and tawdry bravado. Both are equally pathetic cover-ups for deep-seated insecurity. It is only the insecure who resort to belligerence and are obsessed with winning at all costs. Those who are slightly more well-adjusted know and respect their own limitations and are willing to accept "defeat" with grace and dignity. It is the insecure who take refuge in bluster.

The late Ann Richards will long be remembered (fondly) as the creator of that wonderful expression in reference to George H. W. Bush: "He was born with a silver foot in his mouth." Of John McCain, with his bumbling, blundering, bungling attempts at humour, it might be said: "He was born with a silver club foot in his mouth." This does not have quite the same ring and flair as Ann Richards' sparkling line, but it accurately describes the careless, unthinking, irresponsible way in which McCain has joked his way through the 2008 presidential campaign so far. The Republicans take great pleasure is saying that Joe Biden suffers from "foot-in-mouth disease"—and there may well be a tiny sliver of justification in that calumny. But Biden's gaffes are always well-meaning: they just come across in the wrong way or in a way that might be misconstrued. McCain's humour, on the other hand, is peverse, vicious, with a nasty edge to it. It has a scorpion's sting. And it tells us a great deal about the man.

Sarah Palin, Exceptionalism, and Lipstick on a Pig

In the Sept. 25 edition of The New York Times, Roger Cohen had an op-ed piece about Sarah Palin's version of "American exceptionalism," a version for which he coins the term "Palinism." (Just as an aside, if you replace the "P" in "Palinism" with an "St," you get "Stalinism"—a rather odd coincidence, don't you think?)

While Cohen pointed out the danger of Palin's brand of American exceptionalism, he did not go far enough. It is people like Palin who bring home to us the fundamental nonsensicality of the notion of "exceptionalism"—American or otherwise. Before the Americans latched on to the notion, the Jews had already been toying with it for over 2,000 years. And look where that got us—Zionism and the whole bloody mess that is the Middle East today. The Americans simply secularized the notion of "God's chosen people" and recast the rhetoric of religious exceptionalism into that of political exceptionalism. The Jewish "light for the nations" (Isaiah 49:6) became the American "beacon for democracy." The full verse in Isaiah reads: "I will also make you a light for the nations so that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth." Americans are no less into "salvation" than the Prophet Isaiah; however, they are going to save the world from itself, not from the worship of false gods. And their means are accordingly political, not religious. Democracy is the new antidote that replaces Yahweh's strong arm.

As Jewish exceptionalism has shown, the notion of exceptionalism leads inevitably to a sense of entitlement. The Jews claim title to the land God allegedly promised them, and when that title is challenged, they go berserk. Likewise, Americans feel entitled to a position of supremacy in the world (so much for democracy!) and when that supremacy is challenged or threatened or lost, they respond with "rage"—the "angry exceptionalism" that Cohen sees as the hallmark of Palinism—and outrage. How dare anyone challenge American supremacy! And when countries such as Russia or Iran or North Korea have the temerity, even the audacity, to stand up to the doctrine of American supremacy, there is a great deal of bluster, and talk of an "axis of evil," and threats of sanctions, and a great deal of righteous indignation, and even invasion and illegal occupation (as in Iraq), all under the guise of spreading democracy.

But here is the irony: exceptionalism is the very antithesis of democracy. The fundamental tenet of democracy is that no one can claim exceptionality; everyone is equal. Being exceptional (in the ordinary sense of the word) confers no special privileges upon the exceptional, and exceptionality is therefore irrelevant in the political process. In a democracy, no exceptions can be made for anyone, not even the exceptional. This applies no less to nations than to individuals. No matter how exceptional Americans may be in the ordinary sense of the term, they cannot claim exemption from the requirements that apply to all nations, they cannot place themselves above international law. This is what the notion of democracy would demand. However, the United States tramples democracy in the dust when it comes to dealing with other nations, and has consistently pursued a sort of "shadow imperialism," from Haiti and the Philippines (under Marcos) to Iran (under the Shah) and the Banana Republics of Central America. Not surprisingly, it has been repeatedly dismissive of the United Nations, which, for all its faults, is at the very least an honest attempt at establishing democratic (as opposed to imperialistic) relations among nations. America's disdain for the International Court of Justice is yet another instance of the arrogrance that comes with exceptionalism. It seems that in the international political arena democracy is fine for Americans as long as it promotes American interests—and if it does not, then democracy be damned! This is the underlying psychology of the bully. Bullies know they are exceptional and are proud of their exceptionality (this is what gives them the power to be bullies), but we would hardly use their exceptionality as a justification for their behaviour. America's lip service to democracy is thus a visible manifestation of America's underlying insincerity and hypocrisy.

So what can we say about American exceptionalism? The term "exceptionalism" is a rather transparent and ineffective euphemism for "jingoism." It is a pathetic attempt to put lipstick on the pig of American foreign policy and America's view of its place in and relation to the rest of the world. A turd by any other name would smell as shitty (to paraphrase Shakespeare), and American exceptionalism, no matter how nice-sounding that phrase may be, stinks of conceit, arrogance, and hypocrisy. It is all very well to be a beacon of democracy, but when you spread it at gunpoint and trample upon the democratic rights of other nations you show your true colours. The lipstick comes off the pig, and the pig "goes back to her wallowing in the mire" (2 Peter 2:22).

The First McCain-Obama "Debate"

On the whole, this was a lack-lustre performance all round—from McCain, from Obama, and from Jim Lehrer. It was certainly not the most scintillating event of the year or the month. Not even of the week. Nothing memorable happened that would serve to move the presidential race forward. And if we extend that "race" metaphor, it seemed that last night the candidates were racing on a treadmill.

Obama looked tired and worn out and not a little frustrated. His smile was often forced and he pursed his lips a lot, no doubt to keep himself from exploding with indignation. McCain looked like a self-satisfied, simpering simian who grins from ear to ear simply because it is pleased with itself for being itself. At other times, his smile was paternalistic, patronizing, contemptuous, and ridiculing in turns. It said: "You poor fool, Obama, you know nothing and I feel sorry for you." It looked practiced—as if his handlers had coached him to smile whenever he was attacked just so that he would not appear to be ruffled by the attack. Of course, one has to be an actor to put on a convincing smile—and McCain is no actor (just as Dan Quayle was no John Kennedy).

But these "optics" aside, in terms of content and substance neither candidate "distinguished" himself. That is, neither candidate did anything that made him stand out head and shoulders above the other. For the most part, it was the same old campaign speeches, now being delivered in the same room, from the same platform, and in the presence of the other candidate. In this sense, it was not really a debate at all. Both candidates addressed themselves primarily to a TV audience and generally ignored the presence of the other candidate in the room. There was no dialogue.

At Jim Lehrer's prompting, Obama did try to adopt a more debate-like posture: he did address McCain directly and attempted to engage him from time to time. (By joking about Lehrer's directive, McCain showed that either he missed the point of what Lehrer was trying to get them to do or he just did not care). But despite his efforts to engage in proper debate, Obama missed a few good opportunities to collar McCain. Mostly, he was thrown into the position of defending himself in response to McCain's tactic of making false accusations and distorting his record or lying about it outright, as he has done repeatedly on the campaign trail.

Apart from this tactic of putting Obama on the defensive, McCain was—for the thoughtful observer at least—a dismal failure. He did nothing effective to promote himself or strengthen his bid for the presidency. Instead, he resorted to one of the oldest and cheapest tricks in the book: name-dropping. But if one is going to drop names convincingly, one must at the very least learn to pronounce them correctly. He stumbled several times on Amadinejad's name (and at one point was visibly upset with himself for not being able to get it out properly), he completely mangled (Pakistani President) Zardari's name, and he did something strange with "Sevastopol," so that it took a few seconds to realize that that is what he was talking about. The effectiveness of name-dropping lies precisely in the ease and nonchalance with which the names are tossed off. McCain's fumbling with the names had exactly the opposite effect to what was intended: it made him come across as contrived and pretentious and pompous. He was merely putting on political airs—and he made a hash of it to boot.

If anyone was impressed by McCain's name-dropping, he or she almost certainly has a very short memory. When George W. Bush first ran for president a mere eight years ago, he certainly did not drop any names—and not because he thought it below his dignity to resort to such measures, but rather because he had no names to drop. Recall the embarrassing moment when he was unable to name the then-current Pakistani President, Pervez Musharraf. This ignorance of international affairs on Bush's part did not seem to deter a majority of the American public, who went on, in the two elections that followed, to inflict eight years of Bush upon the world. There seems to be a strange double standard among Republicans, who find no contradiction or irony in supporting a relative ignoramus like George W. Bush in one election (actually two) and a self-styled know-it-all like McCain in another. If knowledge of international affairs is the basis for preferring one candidate over another this time round, why was it not the case in the last two rounds? Both Al Gore and John Kerry were better informed about international affairs than George W. Bush was, and yet Americans "preferred" Bush. Why then is McCain's supposedly superior knowledge of international affairs compelling reason to prefer him over Obama? Quite apart from this double standard on the part of Republicans, however, it should be pointed out that McCain's alleged knowledge of international affairs is at best superficial. He has a random smattering of facts but is often unaware of their deeper and broader significance. Note his misappraisal of the situation in Afghanistan, even after having visited that country—and he went to great lengths in the debate to flaunt his visits to the region. Even his random smattering of the facts is shaky at times. Recall how he had to be corrected by Lieberman about the Shia and the Sunnis in Iraq—his lapse in that case was unforgiveable particularly because he flaunts his expertise on the Iraq issue. And he did not know on which side of the Shia-Sunni divide Iran fell. Now that's some expertise!

And as for sharpness of mind, McCain seemed a bit thick at times during the debate. For example, he could not quite get Obama's point about "preconditions" being different from "preparation"—a vitally important distinction—even though Obama gave a crystal-clear explanation of the difference. He eventually dismissed it as "parsing words," but if he thinks that there is no difference between preconditions and preparation, then he is certainly not presidential material. Kissinger and the other former Secretaries-of-State were very clear in their rejection of the preconditions approach to conducting diplomacy, and it is regrettable that Kissinger, soon after the debate, e-mailed CNN's John King with a statement in support of McCain's position, knowing all the while that the issue was preconditions rather than the level at which meetings should take place. McCain has repeatedly made public statements about not conducting diplomacy with America's so-called "enemies" unless they toe America's line in regard to whatever the issue might be (suspension of nuclear activity in the case of Iran, for example). In his stubborn refusal to concede the point to Obama, McCain showed that he has a one-track mind, one that is capable of thinking only along the lines of what he (in his very limited way) deems to be right and wrong. Obama's gracious concessions to McCain on other matters several times in the course of the evening were in sharp contrast to McCain's pig-headedness. If McCain were a gentleman, he would have admitted that Obama was right on the preconditions issue and then gone on to differentiate himself by pointing out that he would not conduct meetings at the presidential level—but perhaps it is not a question of being gentlemanly or not, just a matter of being too thick to appreciate the distinction that Obama was trying to make. It is just this sort of "thickness" of mind that confuses pig-headedness and inflexibility with strength and toughness. It is precisely this sort of thickness of mind (as exhibited by George W. Bush) that has brought the United States to its lowest ebb in its history vis-a-vis its relationship to the rest of the world. Given his similarity to Bush (at least in this regard), McCain is hardly the person to turn the tide of America's fortunes and restore its standing in the world.

When all was said and done last night, McCain came across as a one-trick pony who had practiced his tricks studiously and performed them on cue for the audience. This one-trick pony image was helped along by his repeated use of tired old lines, such as "I've got a pen" and "I'll make them famous." Quite apart from the inherent inanity of these remarks (who cares about his pen? who cares about the names of politicians asking for earmarks?—McCain's underlying tactic here seems to be public humiliation, something as antiquarian and antiquated as McCain himself) , we have heard them come out of his mouth so often that we are left wondering if he in fact cannot come up with anything better. He's got his script and he's sticking to it. That’s hardly the sort of person we need as the president of "the most powerful nation in the world" or as "the leader of the free world."

One can only sympathize with Obama for having to "debate" a person of McCain's ilk. "Debating" McCain was like banging one's head against a brick wall. It was quite evident that nothing Obama said got through to him, since he responded consistently with the same old "talking points" and distortions and did not speak specifically to Obama's objections.

I do not see the world (and life) in terms of winning and losing, so I cannot say who "won" the debate. That is not a relevant question as far as I am concerned. What I can say is that McCain did himself no favours last night, and thoughtful people all over the world no doubt came away from the debate (as I did) hoping against hope that the American public will have the good sense to see McCain (behind the façade of "war hero" and "foreign policy expert") for what he really is: leftovers from yesterday's Barmecide's feast.