Abolish punditry
Or at the very least, abolish the pundit in your head
This past Friday, former Secretary of Transportation Pete Buttigieg joined Jeffrey Goldberg, the Editor in Chief of The Atlantic, on stage in Austin. The interview was part of the Texas Tribune Fest, one of those “celebrations of ideas” events that are sort of like music festivals, except instead of Charli XCX and teenagers trying to score drugs, it’s Walter Isaacson and recent Georgetown grads trying to score LinkedIn endorsements.
Not long after Mayor Pete existed the stage, the Tribune social media team posted the following summary of his remarks.
My official response? Yuck. Or, to expand on that yuck, I don’t know, man. Whenever self-assured guys in suits start opining about a subset of “everyday Americans,” who need to be protected from “identity politics,” we’re into throwing folks under the bus territory. And if that’s the case, count me out, please.
The headline made me huffy, but since it grinds my gears when people respond to my own writing without actually reading it, I checked out the whole interview— an hour’s worth of powerful men opining at each other next to a comically small cactus. And in fairness to Buttigieg, the social media pull quote was slightly sensationalistic. The Secretary didn’t say “everyday Americans.” He used way more words than that.
“There were expressions in the Democratic Party that suggested all that matters to where you fit now is based on your identity, and therefore, the only things we can do for you have to do with your identity,” Buttigieg said. “And it turns out that if you do it that way, you can’t stitch together a story that makes sense across the board.”
My amended response? Still yuck. But also “huh?” I mean, who talks like that? What even are “expressions in the Democractic Party?” Buttigieg claims, in essence, that some people are worthy of having their voices heard, some of the time. Are you a Latino voter who is primarily worried about inflation? Buttigieg considers your concerns to be valid. But if your kid is also transitioning, and you want them to access health care and play the sports they love? Well, if other recent statements are to be believed, it sounds like Mayor Pete might not be your guy.
But let’s ignore, for a second, Buttigieg’s future political aspirations. There’s something more perplexing going on here. I mean, when did it became normal for human beings to talk like sentient David Brooks columns? When did giving abstract advice about what a political party should or shouldn’t do become an acceptable discursive trope? It’s bad enough when various former Vox employees drone on about “conventional wisdom” as if politics were just a solipsistic parlor game. But it’s even worse when pundit brain breaks containment.
I wish this were just a Buttigiegian phenomenon. But if you open up TikTok or Instagram and put in a zeitgeisty search term, you’ll find thousands of human beings who aren’t Actual Matthew Yglesias piping up as to whether, for example, “the Democrats” should or shouldn’t do any number of things. Give up. Fight harder. Be more populist. Be more moderate. Be more socialist. Only run a nation of Zohran Mamdanis. Or Abigail Spanbergers. Or both, “as long as it’s right for their district.”
I’m not speaking hypothetically, by the way. An hour ago, I literally typed “government shutdown” into a search bar and was flooded with front facing videos of strangers shouting things like “here’s what’s nobody’s telling you about this whole shutdown situation”or “you all, we’re getting distracted [elaborate, performative sigh]… per usual”]. A few minutes in, I encountered a man who promised to run one mile for every day of the shutdown while offering mid-run political commentary. A few dozen scrolls later, another man power walked around his neighborhood, shirtless, with the caption, “these eight Democrats failed us, but a stronger party will rise from its ashes.” Thanks, fellas. You seem passionate! And sweaty!
Some of the takes? Pretty good. Or at least inoffensive. Others? Absolutely insane and dangerous. Not unlike an average week at the New York Times editorial page. Regardless of the merits, though, what bizarre collective behavior. I’m implicating myself here, by the way. I too have been guilty of treating group chats like I’m a member of some tiresome CNN panel and I need to urgently fact check Van Jones for the sake of the Republic.
I understand, I think, why we do this. Yes, algorithms and main character syndrome, but also, I’d argue, another function of our internalized powerlessness. We live in a world where the rich and well-connected act with impunity while our lives get generally worse. And then, if that were not enough, we have to listen while other rich and famous people proffer garbage opinions about how all this awfulness is inevitable. You all, I’m writing this during a time when more details of Jeffrey Epstein's web of influence are finally coming to light and it’s regular New York Times Op-Ed Contributors all the way down. It feels cathartic, given all this, to opine into the void, to type out a newsletter or yell across a bar stool or text our group chat: “OH MY GOD, WHY CAN’T POLITICIANS JUST BE HUMAN AND NOT EVIL FOR A CHANGE.”
But there’s a trap. And it’s tautological. The problem with thinking like a pundit is that you end up thinking like a pundit. You end up caring more about having opinions about politics rather than actively engaging in politics, which is to say, actively engaging with other people, trying to build the world that you think we deserve.
Or put differently, if you consider yourself a Democrat, why are you spending your wild and precious political life shouting and gesticulating about what “Democrats” should do? Just do that thing! And invite others to do it with you!
The reason why Buttigieg is such a fascinating case study for peak pundit brain is that, putting aside my disagreement with his argument on its face, there’s still the nagging question: why is he talking about any of this in such dorky, abstract terms?Pete, you’re one of the most famous Democratic Party politicians in America! If you care so much, find a few down ballot politicians who excite you and spend a couple months knocking doors. Use your platform, not to tell boring ghost tales about “expressions in the party,” but to elevate their stories. And if you’re right, if your beliefs are, in fact, galvanizing to (ahem) “everyday Americans,” then celebrate your victories. And if you’re wrong, if more of your candidates lose to Mamdani-style sewer socialists, well, at least you left it on the field.
Moving on from Pete, I’m not saying we aren’t allowed opinions. You don’t have to pretend you aren’t angry at Congressional Democrats. You’re allowed to believe that the Democratic Party is bankrupt and the only way forward is with the Democratic Socialists, or that the Democratic Party is bankrupt and the only way forward is with the Powerpoint pragamatists. Heck you can believe that the Democratic Socialists are broken and the only way forward is to ignore electoral politics altogether and engage in mutual aid. But what comes after that belief? What work are you doing to help that belief grow in the real world? And more importantly, with whom? Given enough formless repetition, even the best arguments sound a bit like Bret Stephens writing “The Democratic Party Has To Appeal to Me, An Actual Republican” for the five hundredth time. Your beliefs deserve better than that.
As for the actual pundits, should they all find different lines of work? Do I really think that Ezra Klein should literally only host potlucks? I mean, let’s be honest. There are plenty of members of that cohort should hang up their MacBooks, stat (I’ll give you a hint: one of them recently hosted a discussion called, essentially, “So, we can all agree that WOMEN totally suck, right?” and the other one just a fun little “case” for doing Dulles brother/United Fruit Company coups again). And what a treat if more folks like Tressie Mcmillan Cottom (you know, legitimately insightful public intellectuals) were given bylines typically reserved for the interchangeable Nate, Matt and Brets of the world.
But don’t worry, scribes of America. As much as I’d like to burn the temple of punditry to the ground, I obviously believe in a world where some good can come from writing and talking about politics out loud. But there’s a difference between actually believing in a political project, working on that political project in real life, and celebrating and platforming those people whose work inspires you versus sitting at a keyboard and asking “where did the Democrats go wrong?” in perpetuity.
That’s all I’m saying. Believe in something. And sure, spread the word about it, but only as a complement to working, for real, with other people. Do you wish that the labor movement was stronger? Organize a union. Do you believe that cities should be more walkable, or that your community should build more affordable housing? Start going to zoning meetings, and talk to the other people who show up. Do you believe that Democrats should run Mamdanis everywhere? Great, let’s work on their campaigns. Do you believe we should run more moderate Blue Dogs in certain places? Boy, I’m skeptical, but there’s no use in arguing with me. Go volunteer for your chosen candidates. I bet we’ll have one hell of a primary, and one way or another we’ll learn something about the actual state of the body politic.
“What are you actually doing, in real life, and what are you learning from it?” That’s the question. For the pundits, sure, but for all of us.
As for me, I plan to keep writing. Am I too just a pundit? I hope not, but please hold me accountable on that front. Like all of us, I’m doing my best.
Last week, I baked cookies for a food bank fundraiser, taught a class of Quaker middle schoolers, hosted a potluck, went to an anti-ICE organizing meeting one night and a public forum the next, taught four of my own trainings and two other trainings for organizations that I admire. And yeah, I made a couple front-facing videos of my own, but I hope I wasn’t too preachy (I also kept my shirt on, blessedly). This week, there are more trainings, as well as a trip down to Evanston, Illinois to meet some incredible organizers whose story I can’t wait to share with you all. At some point in the next few days, I hope to link back up with a gubernatorial candidate whose campaign has me really fired up— I owe her some volunteer shifts, as well as a hat and a t-shirt.
And you know what? I’m tired. All of that takes way more energy than just firing off a hot take. But in the last eight days, I’ve learned a ton, laughed a bunch, and cried a little. I found myself both annoyed by and enamored with strangers in a way that feels both honest and sacred. I finished the week more hopeful than I started. Some times I felt awkward, some times I felt dumb, and some times I doubted I had any answers at all. Not bad for a week’s work.
I’m sure the life of a full time yapper is pretty cushy. No doubt there are some decent spreads in the green rooms. But I’ll take your messes and your handwritten sign-in sheets and potluck casseroles over that world. Our efforts may be humble and slow, but at least we’re moving forward, rather than just shouting in a circle.
End notes:
Missed the other Barnraisers classes I offered this fall? Well, there’s one more. This Sunday. There are still a few days to register. Like the others, it’s free, fun and about how to build community, for real. Want to join us?
You know what’s a much less lucrative career path than full time punditry for a big name outlet? Being a working dad in Milwaukee, trying to show up for his community, training others how to do so (for free!) and writing these hope mongering essays for you all. Every week, I hear about the ways that this space matters for you all— how it keeps you going or inspires you to take the next step. I think we’re building something valuable here, is what I’m saying, and I’d love to keep it going. Can you chip in? Thank you for considering.
It is a slightly less busy week than last, which means that I’m working my way through the backlog of “POTLUCKS!” hats and “love harder than the fascists can hate” shirts I owe you all. If you’re waiting, they’re on the way. And if you want in, either become a paid subscriber (or pat yourself on the back for already being one) and toss me an email with the subject line “hat, please” or “shirt, please.”
If you’re electorally inclined and want something to do in the next couple weeks, you can do far worse than supporting
’s efforts to win December’s special congressional election in Tennessee. She’s an organizer, through and through, and I have a hunch she’s going to surprise some folks.This may seem disconnected, but if we’re talking organizing what we’re really talking about is relationships. And the building blocks of relationships? Questions. I’ve learned so much from on that front, and she just put out a really helpful Ted Talk that summarizers her expertise on that front really accessibly. Highly recommend (her newsletter is great too).
Are you listening to
? Our last free episode was about whether it’s true that men would rather rank Tom Cruise movies than talk about their feelings and our last paywalled episode was about why, as parents, we legitimately love the fact that “six seven” isn’t for us. We have done exactly zero epsiodes about women ruining the workplace. Please clap.Full disclosure, but whenever I get mad about some particularly pompous op-ed, the lyric that pops into my head is “they sat there with their hooks in the water, and their mustaches caked with airplane glue.” That’s a David Berman line, mind you. Rest in peace to the best to ever do it. The song is “Smith and Jones Forever” by Silver Jews. “They’re holding up their trousers with extension cords.”
Oh, and I should probably update the song of the week playlist on Apple Music and Spotify. One of these days, I promise.
Prior to DOGE shutting off my government travel card, I used to go to climate conferences full of pundits. I never went to Davos or COP or any of the big ones (those were for my big boss), but I had some of the same reactions as you. It could feel like a lot of people talking in a room to hear themselves talk. It was a big adjustment coming from working in factories where the whole job there was to get things off the line. And this isn’t to say there wasn’t some benefit to conferences — day-to-day factory stuff is rarely strategic — but it could veer into an echo chamber quickly.
I find myself thinking this morning about the banality of evil. Not that punditry is evil, per se, though sometimes the messages are. But it sure is boring. Like, really, really boring and self-satisfied. And increasingly I'm finding most cultural criticism that I encounter the same. I'm so TIRED of reading takes (or writing takes, honestly) on what other people are actually *doing*. I just want to be doing things. Anything, really, though mostly walking in the woods where there's no punditry or critique or people or politics, only trees.
I realize this is slightly misanthropic on my part, but there we are.