Manners matter, even in politics

Stefanik's rude behavior is embarrassing

We vote on Tuesday, and although I admit to feeling hopelessness about our politics, while we are still voting, we do still have hope. Just look at Brazil.

I used to be involved with coming up with political endorsements for The Post-Star, when I worked there, and sat for years on the paper’s editorial board.

At one time, the board comprised Ken Tingley, the editor; me; whoever the publisher was at the time; and two citizen representatives, who would each serve for a few months. Everyone had one vote on the endorsement, and try as I might to influence the others, I was often outvoted.

We had excellent citizen representatives over the years, who brought a variety of life experience and political viewpoints to our discussions.

But 2020 was the last year the paper engaged in the endorsement process. Ken had retired by then, and we no longer had citizen representatives. The board was down to four members: me, the latest publisher, the paper’s financial chief and the longtime city editor Bob Condon.

Elise Stefanik came in to the office every other time she ran for Congress, but because of the pandemic, we arranged to interview her in 2020 via a live video feed. I called her office and set up a time convenient for her.

Then one of her aides called and rescheduled.

Then the aide called and said Stefanik wouldn’t do the video interview but would do a conference call.

Then the aide called and said Stefanik wouldn’t do the call at the agreed time, which was already past our deadline for endorsement interviews, but would give us a call later from her car while on her way to another engagement.

She never offered an excuse or an apology. She was toying with us — her revenge for our criticisms.

After the third rescheduling, I went to the others on the board and said we should cancel the interview. We could base our endorsement on Stefanik’s record and our interview with her opponent.

The others disagreed, so we went ahead.

Elise Stefanik did not show up for a recently scheduled debate with her Democratic challenger, Matt Castelli.

In this interview as in others, Stefanik was like the kid who sits in front and tries to answer every question. She talks fast to squeeze in all the points she has memorized.

She doesn’t listen or try to persuade. She waits for her cue and rattles off her response.

Her performances on TV are similar, except these days she peppers her answers with insults. On Twitter, she makes sure to get in lots of emojis and exclamation points.

When Ken and I were at the paper, supporters of Stefanik pleaded with us to stop criticizing her, and some accused us of being obsessed.

She is our congressional representative, we would say, and what she does and how she behaves is important. She represents us.

But also, at least for me, she had become an example of the erosion of manners that has come to plague our public life.

Recently, Stefanik posted to her Twitter feed a photo of herself, wearing a sneaky smile and pointing at a roadside sign that read “Foxtrot Juliet Bravo,” which is, apparently, code for a vulgar insult of President Joe Biden.

Can you imagine one of our previous congressional representatives doing such a thing? Bill Owens? Scott Murphy? Chris Gibson?

For all his bluster, Jerry Solomon would have been mortified to be associated with such a stunt.

The abandonment of manners is a precursor to violence. An insult, whether in person or online, is a step toward an assault, as anyone who was bullied on the playground can tell you, and as we witnessed, almost two years ago, in the assault on the Capitol.

Those who celebrate the mean and petty (and embarrassing) political style that Stefanik has embraced cannot be shocked — and are at least partly responsible — when the results are appalling.

Of course, politics can be rough, and open debate and unfettered criticism are good things. But the distinction is between a wrestling match, which has rules, and a street fight, which doesn’t. Can you call people “deranged” and “disturbed,” as Stefanik’s spokesman Alex deGrasse does, and still shake their hands?

Can you behave without manners, day after day, and get re-elected in upstate New York, in the 21st District? Probably, yes. But I still hope for a different answer on Tuesday.

Readings

I’ve finished the “London Journal” of James Boswell, written in 1762-63, when Boswell was in his early 20s, but not published until nearly two centuries later, in 1950. Boswell says in the journal that he did not intend for it to be published during his lifetime, although he seemed to make no great effort to keep secret the lurid details of his life in the city — his affairs with women, visits with prostitutes and a bout of gonorrhea that confined him to his apartment for a couple of months. But, while he seems to revel in these risqué details, he is much more guarded about his strained relationship with his father, a respectable and well-off judge in Scotland, who considered cutting him off and renouncing him publicly because of his  irresponsible behavior.

A view of London in 1751

Making choices

When you’re writing a memoir, as I am, decisions about what to put in and what to leave out are tricky, especially when it comes to your family. Is it fair to consider everything you remember as available for use in your book? Or do you also owe consideration to people who will read the book and be affected by it? A memoir may be nonfiction, but it is an artifice, assembled out of bits of reality filtered through your consciousness, and the deeper into your memory you pursue the real version of what occurred, the more slippery it becomes. With the truth being elusive, the memoirist has a responsibility to be fair, which Boswell must have felt in regards to his father.