Fact-Checking a Fiction

K. Kelso

The readings and video this week definitely struck a chord with the importance of narrative in political spectacle and even in the ascension of the political sphere. Machiavelli’s analysis The Prince, on how one is to ascend to power and subsequently keep power, resonates strongly today in our political arena, and illuminates just how long these questions have been circulating in society. For instance, Chapter XVII in the book, “Concerning Cruelty and Clemency, and whether it is better to be Loved than Feared,” has been a resounding refrain throughout dramatic depictions of political arenas (and throughout historical arenas, though I personal was not in the room for those discussions.) In television shows such as “Game of Thrones,” “House of Cards,” and so many others (better than these two), I am confronted with the themes, the questions of: “Is it better to rule out of love or fear?”, “Do I want to be respected or feared?” Is there a difference? 

            The importance of narrative is inextricably linked to all of the points in Machiavelli’s analysis. The power of narrative can lead folks to their slaughter, as is demonstrated in Chapter VIII on “wickedness,” serve as a tool for mitigation, and if powerful enough, we are faced with the reality that it is often powerful than fact, especially today. Richard Schechner defines Make Belief as, “when these kind of [make-believe] actions create a substratum of belief, reinforce a substratum of belief even as they create it, that people are willing to die for.” 

            Let’s take Trump. Trump is someone I believe people, his supporters and opposers alike, would die for if given the opportunity. The article “Trumpism Extols Its Folk Hero,” Charles Blow states, “I believe that, like Edwards, Trump ascended to folk hero status among the people who like him, and so his lying, corruption, sexism and grift not only do no damage, they add to his legend….The folk hero, whether real or imaginary, often fights the establishment, often in devious, destructive and even deadly ways, and those outside that establishment cheer as the folk hero brings the beast to its knees.” Trump as ascended to this folk hero status by spinning his narrative in the way that makes him nearly immune to “fact-checking” or any sort of logical opposition. Blow ends the article by asking, “How does one fight fiction, a fantasy?” How do you fact-check a fantasy? 

            Elizabeth Kolbert’s New Yorker article, “Why Facts Don’t Change Our Minds,” is a smart investigation into the “collective consciousness,” and examines scientific studies which prove that we – as a society, as a collective – don’t think alone. We do not understand how everything works in this world, and usually that is acceptable, except when it comes to making political decisions. Her reference to the Gormans was most interesting with, “The Gormans, too, argue that ways of thinking that now seem self-destructive must at some point have been adaptive. And they, too, dedicate many pages to confirmation bias, which, they claim, has a physiological component. They cite research suggesting that people experience genuine pleasure—a rush of dopamine—when processing information that supports their beliefs. “It feels good to ‘stick to our guns’ even if we are wrong,” they observe.” Politics are so hairy, so exhausting, so toxic and depressing, that using a scientific entry point to examine this phenomenon is quite helpful. 

            I don’t believe that Trump is “making believe.” I don’t even think he believes he is lying. Trump is deep in the throes of “make belief,” and even if he is fully conscious (partially conscious, perhaps) of when he is administering false information, he is now at a place where he is occupying the space between – or above – any kind of measurable moral hierarchy; he may actually believe completely the “facts” he communicates, which in turn facilitates the “make-belief” affect in his supporters, solidifying his role as the “folk hero” for the conservative and “down-trodden,” and makes him impervious to the real facts which could, in another arena, another time, wipe him out in one stroke.