My Word's Worth: a weekly column by Marylaine Block

vol.4, #5, August 3, 1998

THE FACE THAT LAUNCHED A THOUSAND CARTOONS

Linda Tripp gave a news conference the other day, in which she complained about the way the media have maligned her. They had even, she said, made cruel fun of her personal appearance. This gave political commentators occasion to think, ever so fleetingly, about whether the media are fair to political figures. Chris Matthews, host of the CNBC political show, Hardball, honest to God even suggested that media people should be ashamed of themselves for making fun of people for the way they look.

I'm not sure whether he thought editorial cartoonists should shoot themselves or just go into another line of work.

A cartoon after all requires the viewers' immediate recognition of an image for its visceral effect. Whenever cartoonists have to put identifying labels on figures in their cartoons--Bill Gates, oil lobbyists, the AMA--they lose the power of the visual and admit their own graphic skills aren't good enough to make their point.

Other people may study politicians' policies. Cartoonists also study their noses, chins and hairstyles. Clinton? Bloated cheeks, spare tire, and thunder thighs. Richard Nixon? Ski jump nose, thick eyebrows, and badly in need of a shave. Bob Dole? Long narrow face and heavy black brows drawn together in a frown (he is not, however, characterized by his mangled arm--there are some ground rules). And Ross Perot, God's gift to editorial cartoonists? A homely little guy with outsize ears and outsize ego.

The exaggeration of features begins as a means of identification, but over time it often takes on symbolic value. Herblock certainly gave sinister significance to that Nixonian five o'clock shadow. Clinton's bloatedness and inability to resist French fries became a metaphor for other things he might not have been able to resist. Perot's smallness lent itself to hints of Napoleanic self-delusion.

If we all decided it was unacceptable to make fun of people's physical appearance, we might as well turn all cartoons into pictures of identical blocks of wood wearing identifying labels. Wouldn't be real funny, would they?

But isn't it cruel to make fun of what people can't help? Isn't making fun of somebody's size kind of like making fun of a harelip or birthmark?

Well, yes and no.

Most of us, after all, have obvious prominent identifying features. Anyone who wanted to caricature me would start with my absurd nose, thick glasses, and prominent teeth. An antifeminist cartoonist would see me as the prototypical woman who's a feminist because she's funny-looking.

But I'm safe from caricature because I am not famous. On the other hand, I'd like to be. If my column ever became as widely circulated as Molly Ivins' column, I would not be surprised if I became the object of unflattering commentary, including some cartoons I might not much like. (I have already earned the wrath of foaming-at-the-mouth anti-Clinton folks who read my Fox column on Monica Lewinsky.)

The difference lies in whether or not you have volunteered for public attention. Many people are forced into the media eye by circumstances beyond their control, and are unwilling victims of it. Politicians, though, and cabinet members, and spokespersons for charities and lobbying groups, have not only volunteered for public attention--they must have it in order to accomplish their missions. Carolyn McCarthy, widow of one victim of the Long Island train shooting, and mother of another, should be exempt from caricature; Carolyn McCarthy, spokesperson for handgun control, and member of Congress, should not be. Linda Tripp, Pentagon employee minding her own business, should be left alone; Linda Tripp, grand jury witness and secret taper who aims to bring down a president, is fair game.

One other thing: what would an insistence on kindliness do to columnists and talk show hosts and comedians who routinely refer to Bill Clinton as the Pillsbury Doughboy and to Ross Perot as the insane dwarf? At what point do we leave Jay Leno and David Letterman with nothing to talk about at all, and put Don Imus out of business altogether?

Encouraging kindliness and good manners in a diverse and raucous society is not a bad notion-- we do not suffer from an excess of civility. But to suggest that political commentary should refrain from mentioning appearance, which is the unavoidable first thing we notice about anybody, is to deny that appearance matters, which is preposterous. If it didn't, why would all those hippie kids campaigning for McCarthy have gotten "clean for Gene"? If it didn't, why would Lamar Alexander have made a point of wearing folksy red plaid shirts when he was campaigning for President?

If you volunteer for the public arena, you are volunteering for a chance at both public esteem and public ridicule. As Harry Truman said, "If you can't stand the heat, stay out of the kitchen."