“In my grandparents’ time, in my mom’s time, Spanish was looked down upon. You were punished in school if you spoke Spanish. You were not allowed to speak it. People, I think, internalized this oppression about it, and basically wanted their kids to first be able to speak English. And I think that in my family, like a lot of other families, that the residue of that, the impact of that is that there are many folks whose Spanish is not that great.”
– Julián Castro
Performance, once people get in the door (or in the space), can be a tool for mass communication and education, however, I think of political spectacle as one that performs to distract, instead of performing to inform. For a political spectacle that engages the spectator, there must be a sense, or an “appearance,” of truth and narrative.
The words I am left with that create political spectacle are: narrative, truth, transformation, participation, and struggle.
Texas, as an aesthetic, is nothing but a spectacle. The hair is bigger, the plates are bigger, the hats are bigger, the mouths are bigger, the arenas are bigger – and the politics are no different. The large and lavish American Airlines Center recently held a political rally for Donald Trump, and it was definitively, “marked by enthusiasm,” according to Fox News.
https://www.foxnews.com/politics/trump-dallas-rally-ukraine-scrutiny-intensifies
This political (and Fascist) campaign, in particular, is fueled by an antagonistic (or agonistic), us versus them concept, and the tension inherent in this binary is echoed throughout many of our readings as constituting the “stuff” of politics. For instance, Chantal Mouffe takes the idea of a binary, of an “us/them” dichotomy in politics and moves it toward a productive view of the conflict. “My claim is that it is impossible to understand democratic politics without acknowledging ‘passions’ as the driving force in the political field” (Mouffe 6). Her view is that politics should provide the “arena” for a productive and passionate conflict, which in itself constitutes politics. In this model, it seems that the people become the subject(s) on which politics operate; politics and the political spectacle specifically operates and impose itself on the people.
However, if we are to look at politics within the performative framework, and move toward viewing performance as an ontology, the political subject, the spectator (spect-actor), is demanded to take more of a responsibility in their participation. One is not simply mean to sit back and enjoy (or not), be entertained (or not), and quietly pass the time during a performance. If theatre scholars such as Augusto Boal and Berlot Brecht are encouraging their audiences to be a more active participant in the theatre, this translates to those “subjects” in the political arena to take a similarly active role in their participation, or to take active responsibility for their complacency.
The subject – the subjected, the object, the subjugated – presupposed as either an us or a them, is usually placed somewhere on the dichotomous hierarchy of agency within the political arena. The minoritarian subject in particular is free to actively disidentify with their placement on this hierarchy, as we will discuss later with minoritarian political figures in the spotlight. Looking at the American Airlines Center specifically, that space makes itself accessible only to a small portion of the population. Not everyone has the “right” to appear in this space.
Texas is known for its vast and diverse geography (or, perhaps, not known), and population. The “space of appearance,” as discussed in Judith Butler’s Notes on a Performative Theory of Assembly, is no different. Butler asks: “Which humans are eligible for recognition within the sphere of appearance, and which are not? What racist norms, for instance, operate to distinguish among those who can be recognized as human and those who cannot? – questions made all the more relevant when historically entrenched forms of racism rely on bestial constructions of blackness” (Butler 36). The sphere of appearance performed at the American Airlines Center on Thursday, October 17th is, perhaps, a direct contrast to the sphere performed at many of the Democratic National Debates held thus far this election season – primarily due to the choices of two Texas senators.
Beto O’Rourke and Julián Castro (though I could also include Cory Booker and Pete Butteigeige in this discussion, I am choosing not to), two politicians from Texas on the campaign trail toward the presidency, have both diversified the sphere of appearance through their use of code-switching from English to Spanish during debates.
I have approached code-switching in my previous work as a dramaturgical and literary exercise; it happens in the moment of choque, or when one is not quite able to grasp what comes next in the source language. That tension produces the code-switch. It also appears in, though is not exclusive to social situations, when expressing and negotiating power dynamics, sexual dynamics, and workplace politics. Though it is not exclusive to switching between linguistic codes, I am focusing on this instance of linguistic code-switching.
The code-switching performed by O’Rourke and Castro actively invites non-English speakers (yet active voters) into the typically Western hegemonic political sphere of “whiteness.” Though this is not the lavish spectacle of the American Airlines Center, it is still is a form of political spectacle. This active code-switching inherently implies a narrative, there is a “truth” expressed in it, and there is an element of transformation. I believe this is more of a long game, as the spectacle itself continues after the code-switching has taken place. As translation is an inherently political act, this code-switching is also politically driven and begins to negotiate the politics of “appearance” within the code-switching subject in the afterlife of the debate.
We see this afterlife negotiated in the perception of O’Rourke and Castro, respectively. One article from USA today reads:
“Some social media users criticized the candidates for attempting to appeal to Latino voters by speaking in Spanish — or “Hispandering,” a term used to describe a politician trying to pander to the Hispanic community. Others, such as those who watched the debate on the Spanish-language broadcast network Telemundo, appreciated that the candidates were trying to connect with them on that level.” O’Rourke, defined in many articles as a fluent Spanish speaker, is overall praised for his code-switching, especially in the face of his whiteness.
Julián Castro however has faced harsh criticism for not being “fluent” in Spanish. The term “monoglot” is referenced almost as a derogatory term when referring to Castro. The critique of Castro’s monolingualism, especially when placed next to the reaction of O’Rourke, is rooted in the problematic pressure placed on the minoritarian subject to be “true” and “authentic”; it emphasizes the Jose Muñoz’s burden of liveness for the minoritarian subject in the political field. Castro is still demanded to perform as a “Latino,” though the linguistic code of Spanish is only one small part of that multi-faceted identity. An example of arguments supporting Castro’s monolingualism, positing it as inherently American, appears in a Washington Post article online, reading: “Because, while bilingualism is for many Latinos a treasured aspect of maintaining community in the United States, Castro’s monoglot experience is just as authentic — and even more uniquely American….Castro revealed more about his family’s history with Spanish. “In my grandparents’ time, in my mom’s time, Spanish was looked down upon,” he said. “You were punished in school if you spoke Spanish. You were not allowed to speak it.” He said many Latinos have “internalized this oppression” and desired their children to only speak English.”
For the final project, I am interested in excavating this phenomenon of code-switching in the political arena, yet expanding the sphere of observation to a larger understanding of code-switching which is not limited to linguistic codes. I see one of the core elements of political spectacle as living in the narrative of the political performance, of the appearance of “truth,” which makes the spectator “believe.” I am curious about code-switching in the way that it can (or not) mobilize bodies, create affect, and where it is placed within the political spectrum.
As a last note, (and though it lands us in New Mexico instead of Texas) the ad for “Valeria Plame for Congress” is a strong example of narrative, truth, transformation, participation and struggle. (For me, it also has a Texan aesthetic.) I would argue employs a type of rhetorical and visual code-switching throughout in an effort to engage the spectator. It is also quite entertaining.