No, I haven’t watched the show. Yes, its (fleeting) cultural footprint is inescapable. But I do want to discuss reality television in light of Jonah Goldberg’s latest column, which makes  a bunch of smart points but (I think) fundamentally misunderstands the essential nature of trashy programming.

From my cultural vantage point, ‘Jersey Shore’ isn’t a celebration of muscleheads or guidos. Granted, the show’s very existence validates their subculture, but its core audience is made up of voyeurs indulging in bad television from the safety of their living rooms, not potential imitators. Read a smattering of reviews or check out Vulture’s oh-so-clever episode recaps – critics are laughing at the show’s participants, not with them.

I seldom watch reality television, but some shows – Survivor, The Amazing Race – strike me as basically benign competitions among well-adjusted adults. ‘Jersey Shore’ and its ilk seem fundamentally different. Instead of competition, MTV (and Vh1) collect a bunch of of maladjusted personalities and throw them together under one roof. Add money, booze and sex and the show’s original premise is almost irrelevant – the core appeal of these programs is the chance to watch people make fools of themselves on camera.

Goldberg suggests that instead of reacting with horror, viewers aspire to imitate the antics of the shows’ contestants. But the appeal of reality television is more complicated. Instead of emulating the participants, audience members indulge in a voyeuristic free-for-all that winks knowingly at the genre’s conventions – the staged fights, the absurd competitions – while quietly laughing at a series of on-screen caricatures. It’s no accident that Vh1 has taken to recruiting repeat contestants for its programming – these professional laughingstocks are already familiar with the producers’ expectations and have already proven themselves willing to play to type for a jaded audience.

The ultimate irony is that half these programs market themselves as a chance at self-improvement for wayward contestants, from finding true love to becoming a perfect gentleman. Never mind the fact that only one contestant can ‘win’ while the rest are kicked to the curb. The point, we’re told, is to help these people, which comes off as an awfully thin excuse for televised mockery.

I believe in personal agency, so if people want to subject themselves to what amounts to ritualized public humiliation, I can only shake my head and look the other way. But I do have a plea for the viewers who sustain these misbegotten franchises, the same people who would never consider subjecting themselves to the whims of MTV’s cameras: Please, don’t feed the beast. It’s not funny or clever to laugh at people whose failings are mercilessly exploited by the reality television industry.

In the course of a very thorough fisking of Michael Goldfarb’s latest attempt to justify torture, Julian Sanchez makes the rather banal observation that failure to prosecute war crimes in World War II doesn’t obviate the need to prosecute war crimes today. Goldfarb’s argument has never made a whole lot of sense to me, but then Andrew Jackson was responsible for the Trail of Tears, so we may as well go ahead and waterboard away. After all, you wouldn’t want to lock up Old Hickory, would you?

Aside from how little Goldbfarb’s “Truman was a war criminal, too!” argument makes sense, I’m totally baffled by people who look to past atrocities for some sort of ethical guidance. Shouldn’t a just and decent society seek to improve its moral record? Shouldn’t we want to reevaluate past mistakes? Shouldn’t we be trying to make better moral judgments than our predecessors? One might assume that Americans would be interested in at least some introspection, but we’ve now regressed to the point where I find myself nodding along to Slavoj Zizek op-eds.

None of this is to say that Truman (or Jackson, or even Bush for that matter) isn’t a sympathetic historical figure. But at this point, it seems abundantly clear that allegations of torture merit serious investigation. We like to say society has progressed over the past fifty years – the burden is now on us to prove it.

I had planned to kick things off with a sweeping introductory post, but it seems William Brafford has already taken care of the intellectual heavy-lifting. For now, the essentials of my biography can be found here. I’m very excited to join such an infamous blogging project, and to start, I thought I’d respond to Scott’s defense of Obama’s foray into stoner comedy. He writes:

Listen, there was a time in America where the suggestion that prohibition laws around marijuana ought to be revised would be met with bug-eyed, spittle- launching, vein-bursting retorts of indignation and outrage — there are, in fact, some areas of the country where this remains true. But the fact that the President of the United States and most of the mainstream media felt sufficiently comfortable to outwardly express their amusement with issue at hand signals, as Freddie indicates, a substantial shift in perceptions about marijuana usage amongst a not insignificant proportion of Americas and indicates that, as Andrew points out, there we are in the midst of a generational shift in the people making major decisions about the direction of the country.

There may be some truth to this, though I don’t think marijuana use has ever evoked the sort of cultural panic we associate with harder drugs (Cheech and Chong blazed a trail for Harold and Kumar, if you will). I’m also not sure if Obama’s humorous condescension is a boon for advocates of legalization. Acknowledging the prevalence of casual marijuana use – a nod and a wink to the stoner demographic to keep the natives from getting restless – while simultaneously dismissing its political relevance suggests a certain comfort level with the status quo, which can’t be encouraging news to anyone who’s encountered the business end of drug enforcement.

This, I think, is a function of a certain kind of privilege. The kind that is so thoroughly insulated from the unintended consequences of the drug trade that any suggestion of reform is immediately dismissed with a clever joke and a raised eyebrow. The kind that can sample “pot, . . . and booze; maybe a little blow” without undue consequence. The danger, then, is not that drug enforcement has become an unbearable imposition. The real worry is that our Great American Middle has become so acclimated to the status quo that we can’t even be bothered to discuss reforming laws that are so manifestly unjust and counterproductive.

To me, the most insidious element of drug prohibition is that it gives lie to the notion that we are one nation, governed by one set of laws. For some of us, the legal system is the sharp end of the stick. For others, it’s a protective blanket, a process whose harshest outcomes rarely exceed community service, drug counseling, or a short stint in rehab. The problem is that most Americans are only familiar with the latter option, which explains why Obama’s oh-so-polite dismissal is par for the course when it comes to the drug war.

I’m not sure legalization is a panacea, and I’m certainly open to any intelligent discussion on the future of drug policy. But I’m equally convinced we need to initiate that debate sooner rather than later. Though I can appreciate a politician with a sense of humor, I worry that Obama’s wit does more to delay this discussion than to acclimate the public to the reality of drug enforcement.

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My belated apologies for starting things off with such a dour post. On a happier note, my alma mater’s top policy debate team just reached the quarterfinals of the year-end National Debate Tournament, losing to Kansas on a close decision. The NDT is the NCAA tournament’s distant academic cousin – qualifying is incredibly grueling, and making it to the “Elite Eight” is quite a feat. For a small school like Mary Washington, it’s damn near unprecedented. Congratulations are due to Matt and Kevin – go Eagles!