There was a time when a person in public life who did something wrong or unethical would apologize and ask for forgiveness. That was usually adequate penance for the misdeed to allow the person to continue as a public figure, as long as no crime was involved.
Then with the dawning of Oprah-era of television, a public person was supposed to cry in public. It was preferable to do it on Oprah’s show. However, if you weren’t that famous a public personality and didn’t rate being scheduled, you had to find another place. It didn’t matter whether you were male or female; tears and a “heartfelt” apology were the price of continuing in the public eye.
So many public people today seem to think that being on television or in the news constitutes “being.” Getting more than the fifteen minutes of fame Andy Warhol allotted everyone seems to be a life quest for all kinds of public figures, from Paris Hilton to William Bennett.
By the way I have noticed that Bennett, the Prince of Virtue has returned to “being.” After his public disgrace as the compiler of virtuous tales, he became an object of ridicule for his late night slot machine compulsion. Completely unacceptable to the conservative congregation to whom he preached. Hilariously hypocritical to the liberal sect whom he antagonized.
How did he pull off this public renaissance? He used a post-modern, post-Oprah public relations technique. He vanished from the public eye of his own accord until he felt it safe to come out again.
This self-ostracism technique is the new way disgraced public people work their way back into the public eye. It is based on the premise that the press imposes upon itself an indeterminate time limit on how long they will mention the transgression.
In other words, after a certain amount of time the press will think it’s unfair to mention that Bennett, the virtuous, blew eight million dollars of gambling losses after long, lonely nights at the slots.
Reverend Jackson used the same technique. As the old Beatle song said, “Hey, you’ve got to hide yourself away.” Jackson stayed out of the public eye until the press moved on to someone else's lawn. Once the coast cleared, he emerged from behind the curtains of his home and resumed his public life.
This technique is now the standard for disgraced public figures; to hide in self-imposed exile. That means having to give up being in the public eye for while. Gary Hart is back again, huffing and puffing on the Huffington Post seemingly once a week now.
No one dares bring up the womanizing that brought his presidential campaign to a screeching halt in 1984, when he wants to talk about how he predicted a major terrorist attack before 9/11. It would no longer be considered sporting.
Judith Miller, late of the New York Times, is using the technique now. She was sanctified as a First Amendment Joan of Arc one day, only to be exposed as a gullible shill for the Bush Administration line on Iraqi WMD the next.
She is now in retreat as Jesse and Gary were. No tearful “I’m sorry.” No apology. She's just in hiding until the time is right.
Doris Kearns Goodwin, a fine historian, was discovered plagiarizing. She was probably trying to churn out too many books too quickly. Publishers can be demanding. After exile, she has now returned to the public eye, providing instant historical analysis to a current event (an oxymoron) for PBS.
Dick Morris, ex-Clinton pollster, is now pimping his ride at Fox News as a born-again conservative. I still remember how he was caught cavorting with his favorite prostitute during the Democratic convention. He too spent his time in the metaphorical wilderness of non-celebrity. Now he now grinds his diminutive axe without even doing any polling, which is all he was ever any good at anyway.
Now that Bill Bennett is back, I would suggest that he can solidify his return to the public eye with a new literary undertaking. The “Book of Vices” would be a compilation of stories demonstrating how various vices can tarnish one’s image. Chapter one of his next book should concern the vice of Sanctimony, which led to his downfall before this latest attempt at public resurrection.
One caution to Judith Miller. Don’t come back too soon. There are still some reporters, like Dana Priest, who are exceptions to the rule. On a “Meet the Press” show recently, Mr. Bennett was arguing that the New York Times was wrong to publish certain stories about secret spying programs on Americans by the Bush Administration .
Ms. Priest defied the press convention that time out of the spotlight heals all wounds. Instead, as W.C. Fields said, she made sure that time wounds all heels. She pointedly remarked in rebuttal to Bennett that some people think casino gambling is wrong too. At which point, Mr. Bennett became very quiet. He realized, maybe for the first time, that silence was also a virtue.
