Coronavirus coverage: Fake TV smiles just make things worse

The fake smile. It’s painful enough when someone’s trying to sell you something, but it’s downright rude when it’s offered during a time of crisis, frustration or grief.

I first noticed this phenomenon on the local news maybe 30 years ago. We were about to go through our 20th day of 100-degree temperatures in a month (or something like that). Everyone was miserable. Yet there was Mr. Smiley Weather Dude, acting like he’d just won a million bucks in the lottery. I turned the TV off.

I haven’t watched the local news in decades, mainly because I got tired of shallow, smirking heads delivering news of car crashes, apartment fires and government scandals between tasteless smiles and vapid banter.

Oh, the incongruity!

They might as well start singing, “It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine.”

No one likes bad news, but when it comes from smiling, laughing messengers, it’s that much harder to take. It gives the impression that, “You poor saps have to go through this, but we don’t care. We’re just fine here!”

It’s like a punch to the gut. Rubbing salt in the wound. Adding insult to injury. Pick your well-worn cliché. Maybe you should take fiddling lessons so you can practice in case Rome burns again, Smiley Anchor.

Default-happy seems to be demeanor of choice for TV journalists delivering the news. And others, too. Videos show flight attendants with plastered-on smiles demonstrating how to evacuate a jumbo jet in the event of a crash: as though it would be some big party. Commercials for the latest obscenely priced designer medication show carefree families frocking in the park; meanwhile, in the background, an announcer calmly ticks off potential side effects: “May cause irritable bowel, sweating, constipation, fever, heartburn, psychosomatic anxiety, brain hemorrhage, alien abduction or, in extreme cases, even death.”

(The very idea of drugs companies paying millions to advertise already-overpriced drugs to people who can’t afford them sickens me. But that’s another story.)

At least pretend to care

This brings us to the coronavirus tragedy. And yes, it’s not just a “crisis,” it’s a tragedy. People are angry. They’re angry about being put out of work. They’re angry about being stuck at home. And they’re scared about not being able to pay their bills or that they — or their loved ones — might contract the disease. And they’re hurting because people they know are stuck in a COVID-19 quarantine. Or dead.

Yes, safety measures are necessary, but telling us we have to stay away from our loved ones or stay home from work with a smile on your face makes it seem like you don’t give a rat’s ass. You might say we’re “all in this together,” but if you still have a job and you haven’t been infected that comes off as disingenuous and cruel. Especially if you don’t wipe that insipid smile off your face. At least try to pretend you care.

If you’re a journalist, it’s easy to numb yourself to the tragedies you’re reporting. And if you’re a government official, you probably have no clue what people outside of Washington or City Hall are going through. You’re more concerned with your own re-election than anything else. Oh, it’s not entirely your fault: You’re conditioned that way. Still, if you’re in politics, you probably have such a big ego there’s not much room in that self-centered brain of yours to care about “the little people” you were elected to serve.

But at least for a moment, pretend you care more about people than votes or Nielsen ratings. Pretend you understand what it might be like to be bored to death, stuck at home, with nothing to think about but the mounting bills you can’t pay or the possibility that you might get sick at Walmart. Think about that for a minute and wipe that automated, teeth-whitened smile off your face just long enough to think about the ramifications of that bad news you’re delivering.

People are dying. People are out of work. People are suffering. If you realize the implications of that and you’re still smiling, there’s something very, very wrong with you.

Trump doesn't want us to think for ourselves

Note: This is a free bonus chapter you won't find in my new book. Media Meltdown in the Age of Trump chronicles the decline of the mainstream media, the rise of Donald Trump and how the two developments have created a new and dangerous reality in the 21st century. It's now available on Amazon.

Donald J. Trump doesn’t want you to read this.

He doesn’t want you to think about it. He doesn’t want you to think, period.

He wants doesn’t want you to consider the evidence and decide for yourself, because if you do, he knows he’s in trouble. There’s a boatload of circumstantial evidence against him, and if we start piecing it all together, he knows he’ll look pretty damned guilty. He knows Robert Mueller is doing just that, but he also knows that the ultimate decisions will be made in the court of public opinion, because our system subjects presidents to political, rather than judicial remedies for “high crimes and misdemeanors.”

So, he’s attacking Mueller personally before the special counsel even presents any evidence. He’s seeking to discredit the messenger, just as he does with the press, because he’s afraid of the message.

Trump admitted doing this to the press, CBS journalist Lesley Stahl said, when he told her, “You know why I do it? I do it to discredit you all and demean you all so when you write negative stories about me, no one will believe you.”

He’s doing the same thing with Mueller, accusing him of partisan bias and of drawing things out, knowing that the public doesn’t have the same patience as a court does for sifting through mounds of evidence and arriving at a conclusion based on thoughtful analysis. Fatigue sets in and process itself becomes unpopular, so Mueller – as the driving force behind that process – becomes unpopular, as well.

Poisoning the well

A bias against the process can be used as a wedge to open the way for bias against the person, which Trump can use to taint the entire process and to discredit the evidence based on who’s presenting it rather than how strong it is. In logical terms, he’s resorting to an ad hominem fallacy, a baseless form of argument that’s used to distract from the facts at hand.

Why should Trump want to discredit Mueller, who at the outset of this process was lauded by Republicans as well as Democrats as a straight arrow who would act impartially to unearth the facts? Why doesn’t he simply follow the advice of political handlers to let the process play out?

Because Trump is scared the evidence will lead to him. He believes he should be above the law, and he’s exploiting the weaknesses of our system to make that belief reality. If he can get public opinion on his side and retain a majority of his own party in Congress, he knows guilt or innocence won’t matter. Political expediency will. And he’s determined to use that to his advantage.

Think about it

Courts use circumstantial evidence to establish guilt or innocence through reasoning. They lay out a series of facts, connect the dots and ask that juries reach a conclusion based on those facts, whether or not there’s any direct evidence.

Verdicts based on circumstantial evidence are every bit as valid as those where there’s DNA, video, fingerprints or some other form of “smoking gun” to connect the accused to the scene. Frequently, such evidence simply isn’t available. Eyewitness testimony? It’s often unreliable, and can be less worthy of consideration than a healthy dose of circumstantial evidence, because it’s notoriously unreliable.

Despite this, there’s a public perception that circumstantial evidence is less credible than direct evidence. We want to “see for ourselves,” and it’s only when we do that we’re satisfied. We were both satisfied and outraged when we learn that Richard Nixon had erased 18 minutes of White House tapes, even though he retained broad support until close to the time he resigned. We reacted the same way when we saw Ray Rice on video decking his fiancée in a casino elevator. But not before. Such conclusions don’t require thinking or reasoning. They’re based a simple, visceral reactions to sensory input.

Trump wants us to rely on those visceral reactions. He doesn’t want us to think. He wants us to devalue reason as a means of arriving at decisions – specifically, his guilt or innocence. He can't control people’s reasoning, but he can control their reactions to some extent, and he does so by feeding our bias against circumstantial evidence (and the thought process we use to evaluate it) at every opportunity.

Two-pronged attack

Because he’s the president, Trump can take advantage of a powerful bully pulpit to pound home his message continually. He does so through social media, his cronies and his PR machine, who love to repeat it, and through mainstream media outlets, which have to do so because it’s news. In doing so, he makes the very people he wants to discredit (the press) complicit in his efforts.

These efforts amount to a two-pronged attack on our ability to reason and our right of self-determination.

First, Trump encourages us to rely on our emotions in making up our minds. He nurtures and feeds hidden biases against black Americans, immigrants, Muslims, women, Democrats and the press for precisely this purpose. He calls them names to discredit them or make them appear “weak.” It’s not that he hates these people. His personal sentiments toward them are irrelevant. What’s important is that he can condition us to rely on our emotional biases, rather than our brains, to make decisions.

Second, he attacks the evidence itself – and its sources. We should discount that evidence because (he says) it’s “fake news.” Then, he replaces it with his own propaganda – which is itself fake. Because we’re relying on our biases instead of our brains, we’re no longer using the only tool at our disposal to tell the difference. This is why the press is a particular target; if he can cut off the flow of information, the biggest source of temptation to think for ourselves will have been cut off.

He’ll have us right where he wants us. The process is taking too long, which proves Mueller is on a fishing expedition and out to get him. This means any evidence Mueller might find is suspect and, probably, tainted by his own self-interest. It should therefore be discarded in favor of our own biases in favor of the Republican Party, conservatism, nationalism and, most importantly, Trump himself.

That’s reasoning based on assumption, not fact, which is exactly what bias is. We rely on it based on our need for instant gratification in a busy society where we have little time for the kind of analysis that’s necessary to call him on his B.S.

Divide and conquer

This tactic isn’t new to Trump. Hillary Clinton did the same thing when she blamed Republicans for engaging in a vast right-wing conspiracy to bring down her husband – who, like Trump, was accused of womanizing and lying. Clinton denied lying under oath, even as he admitted misleading the American people about the Lewinsky affair. He was impeached in the House of Representatives but acquitted by the Senate, not based on evidence, but on political considerations.

The Democrats controlled the Senate then, just as the Republicans control both houses of Congress now.

Trump is exploiting that advantage, but he’s going much further. Instead of simply relying on politics to save him from one or two serious accusations, he’s striking at the core of our ability to access information, to process it: to reason. Because even if he escapes the Russia probe, he’ll have to deal with other accusations. Stormy Daniels and Michael Cohen. Obstruction. Taxes and political donations. His financial interests and his family’s role in all of the above.

He needs us to stop thinking for ourselves, so he’s fueling our own hatreds, fears and biases to divide us as he feeds us his own distorted version of the truth. He’s keeping us at each other’s throats so we don’t realize we have a common enemy: him.

The problem, however, goes beyond Trump. In conditioning us not to think – to accept that Barack Obama was born in Kenya; that Mexicans are drug dealers and rapists; that climate change isn’t real; that his inauguration crowd was the biggest in history – he’s creating a “new normal” that could be exploited by others long after he’s gone.

There’s only one way to stop a steamroller that threatens our right and even our ability to think rationally by dumbing us down and cutting off the flow of information.

Don’t ignore circumstantial evidence. Don’t give in to your biases. When Trump or anyone else asks you to believe something based merely on what he says or your own biases, refuse to simply accept it.

Question. Analyze. Insist on thinking for yourself.

Editor's Notes: Epilogue

When you know you might not be in a place much longer, you start noticing things you’ve taken for granted. The wind in the pines that whips around the corners of your house. The shops on Main Street, housed in buildings from a bygone age and nestled against a crisp, blue springtime sky. Conversations with people who’ve been part of your life for the past few years but who might not be much longer … at least not in person.

I’m noticing such things these days. How long will I be in Cambria? I have no idea. But I figured I’d better do some things I’ve always wanted to do here while I still have the chance. If the Who and Derek Jeter can go on farewell tours, I suppose I can, too, right? I spoke at Mary Anne Anderson's open mic night last Thursday, and I've got a farewell party set for tonight.

I’ve been meaning to take a drive up Old Creek Road between Highway 46 and Cayucos. I’ll probably do that sometime in the next few days. I want to drive some of the other back roads, too. Maybe I’ll pop in for karaoke one last time at San Simeon Beach Bar & Grill if they’re still doing it up there. “Elvis,” who runs the show up there, is always a kick.

Last weekend, on my second official day of unemployment, Samaire and I went to lunch at La Terraza, using up what was left on a gift certificate she got me for my birthday last year. I’d been milking it through three meals, and I figured I’d better use the last of it while I still had the chance. The meal was great, as usual: a chicken tamale, carnitas taco and some flan for desert.

While we were there, we ran into Clive Finchamp, who has sent letters to the Cambrian on a regular basis, but whom I’d never met in person until today. Samaire was taken by a stunning purple outfit worn by Clive’s wife, Sharon, and she said so.

Not knowing who we were, they asked whether we lived in Cambria and what we did. I said, “Until two days ago, I was editor of the newspaper here.”

Recognition dawned, and when they introduced themselves, I recognized them, as well. It’s funny how you can spend three-plus years in a place and never run into someone, then do so two days after you’re out of a job.

When I stopped by the mailbox the other day on Berwick, Aaron Wharton pulled up alongside me in his truck and wished me well. A couple of days before that, Iggy Fedoroff drove up alongside me on Main Street and expressed his appreciation. So many of the people in this town have been so supportive, and I can’t help but feel fortunate at that.

When we stopped in at Linn’s for a bowl of tomato soup, we ran into both owner John Linn and his son, Aaron, both of whom have appeared in the pages of The Cambrian during my tenure. I interviewed John after he told me about an exclusive deal he had to supply preserves and syrups to Knott’s Berry Farm. It’s hard to believe that was three years ago. Columnist Charmaine Coimbra talked to Aaron about his efforts to support youth cycling on the North Coast.

Linn’s is one of my favorite restaurants, and we’ve been there a number of times, but I’d never run into both Aaron and John there at the same time before. As an added bonus, my wife’s favorite waitress, Jordan, took care of us that evening. Synchronicity.

Before we sat down for lunch at La Terraza on Saturday, Samaire and I drove down to Moonstone Beach Drive to visit Art Van Rhyn in his gallery. I’ve worked with Art as The Cambrian cartoonist since I got here, and he’d drop by the office every Monday to deliver the week’s submission and chat for a few minutes. I learned that, before he was an artist, he’d worked as an engineer for Caltrans, and he supplied me with some great material for my book on Highway 99. More synchronicity.

We spent some time talking with Art about his paintings, our lives and what we have in common as artists (his specialty being visual, ours being words). I hadn’t expected to, but I wound up purchasing a painting from him: a stunning springtime view of San Simeon Creek Road bordered by yellow-golden flowers, which you can see at the top of this column. As a lover of old roads and pastoral vistas, I couldn’t resist. Samaire purchased a painting, too, of a Monterey pine. They’ll be perfect remembrances of our time in Cambria, if and when we decide to move on.

(How, you may ask, can an unemployed journalist afford to buy original works of art? I’ll let you in on a secret: Art’s paintings are very reasonably priced. Sometimes, when he sells one, it’s like saying goodbye to one of his children, but he loves to see them find good homes. Make the trip. You won’t be disappointed.)

Now that I’m no longer representing the newspaper, I can do some things I couldn’t do before. I can extol the virtues of my favorite places in town, I can take part in demonstrations for causes I believe in, and I can plant political signs on my front lawn. I can even write books about politics (stay tuned, but no, I won’t be writing about the water plant; I’ve done enough of that already).

Still, I’m running this under the heading Editor’s Notes – the title of my column at The Cambrian – because they’re not replacing me there, so I figure no one else will be using it. I may not be the editor of a newspaper anymore, but I look at it this way: As of this week, I’m managing editor of my own destiny.

I like the sound of that.

(See? I told you I wasn’t going to stop writing!)