In an age of rage, it is often difficult to stand out in the mob as so many pander to the perpetually irate.
However, New York Times columnist Jamelle Bouie has found a way to win the race to the bottom.
In a posting on Bluesky, Bouie mocked the account of the addiction of the mother of Vice President J.D. Vance, saying that she should have sold her son for drugs.
Bouie used Bluesky (the digital safe zone for the viewpoint intolerant on the left) to post one of the most reprehensible attacks on Vance. Bouie wrote that “this is a wicked man who knows he is being wicked and does it anyway.”
That is hardly notable on today’s rage scale.
However, he then decided to use the painful addiction history of Beverly Aikins against her son: “No wonder his mom tried to sell him for Percocets. [I] can’t imagine a parent who wouldn’t sell little JD for percocet if they knew he would turn out like this.’
Vance wrote a celebrated bestseller, “Hillbilly Elegy,” about his difficult childhood with a mother who became addicted to pain medication and eventually found herself stealing drugs from her patients. It was a tragic account of how addiction tore their family apart, but also a tale of redemption: “I knew that a mother could love her son despite the grip of addiction. I knew that my family loved me, even when they struggled to take care of themselves.”
In April of last year, Vance celebrated his mother’s decade of sobriety.
As I discuss in my new book “Rage and the Republic,” a common element to past radical movements has been the dehumanization of political opponents. In calling others “Gestapo,” “fascists,” and “Nazis,” you achieve a certain license to say and do things that you would ordinarily never say or do. By stripping them of any humanity or right to empathy, you are free to discard the limitations of decency and civility.
Rage is itself a type of drug. It is addictive and, while they never admit it, they like it.
Bouie shows the lack of self-awareness in his hateful posts. It is the ultimate example of transference; a self-description ascribed to those you hate.
On his New York Times bio, Bouie insists that “I come from a left-leaning, social democratic perspective, but I strive for honesty, fairness and good faith in my writing.” He adds that “I abide by the same rigorous ethical standards as all Times journalists.”
If using Vance’s tragic childhood and his mother’s addiction is an example of the “fairness and good faith” of the New York Times, it is a chilling prospect.
In his book, Vance observes that the children of broken and impoverished homes often give up hope, as he did: “Psychologists call it “learned helplessness” when a person believes, as I did during my youth, that the choices I made had no effect on the outcomes in my life.”
He found that choices do matter in shaping your life. We all make such choices, as did Bouie in becoming another voice of rage and the New York Times in giving him a platform to amplify his views.
It is the same choice that the Times makes in barring a U.S. senator and firing editors for exposing readers to alternative viewpoints while publishing those who advocate repression or rationalize political violence. To the obvious appeal of its readers, the paper now peddles in hate to feed a national addiction.
In the end, Vance and his mother have overcome far greater challenges than this vicious columnist or the hatefest at Bluesky. From adversity, they found a strength and a bond that has inspired many who are struggling with such addictions and poverty.
It is clear who is “wicked” in these postings. Perhaps it is even strangely edifying and self-condemning. As Victor Hugo observed, “the wicked envy and hate; it is their way of admiring.”
Jonathan Turley is a law professor and the best-selling author of “Rage and the Republic: The Unfinished Story of the American Revolution.”
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