In politics, stage lighting is key

By Kate Mason

When presenting a play, there must be no more light than is necessary; no more light than the producers want you to see. Most importantly, the audience must be kept in the dark. They crave it. They need it. They can't accept a play without it. If any extra light escapes onto the stage, the whole charade evaporates. The blinded actors trip, the set crumbles, the makeup smears, the costumes tear, and, eventually, all the lights go out on the whole damn thing.

In the game of life imitating art, there is no better player than the politician. The politician is a genius when it comes to lighting. He dances, he sings, he skips around with a bright smile and a bright costume, and, if he is really talented, he impresses the audience into returning for another show.

The most successful politicians are those who are the best actors, and, as anyone who has ever been involved in theater will tell you, acting and lying are one and the same. Both involve convincing as many people as possible to believe in a fantasy, and both are useless if the recipients are not convinced. An honest politician is never a successful one. Look at Jimmy Carter.

Just as the successful production of a play depends upon the cooperation of all its players, a successful lie demands the help of all those involved. It would seem strange, then that any politician would want to reveal the lie or, worse, stress the truth as the only appropriate mode of action. Would Jean Valjean ever run onto the set of Les Misérables and declare that not only is Cosette not an orphan, but that she's not even French? Would the audience then cheer Monsieur Valjean and demand that Cosette drop her evil act and reveal herself as the upper-class American daughter of a wealthy lawyer? Doubtful.

An audience loves the actor's illusions, and we, the public, adore politicians who successfully deceive us--Kennedy was idolized as a symbol of a better America, yet was also a womanizer; Reagan was probably demented while in office, yet his Hollywood charm brought us through the Cold War in relatively high spirits. If some politicians decide that we should watch everyone's performance in the brightest light, all their careers are essentially ruined. How many people would have celebrated George Bush's, DC '48, promises if they knew that his lips would in fact order new taxes? And how many Americans would have voted for Bill Clinton, LAW '73, if he had bluntly admitted to having several extramarital affairs and inhaling an illegal substance while dodging the draft?

If we prohibit our politicians from lying and force them into that extra light, we lose our illusions. Let's face it, this country needs its illusions. What would happen if all our politicians started telling the truth and exposing themselves to the light? They would be blinded. They would stumble around, crashing into the beautifully painted façade, tearing their costumes and smearing the happy smiles painted upon their faces. Eventually, the entire production would collapse, leaving only a ruin in its wake.

What it comes down to is that no one wants, needs, or can handle the truth. Clinton was simply trying to perform a service when he lied about his silly little affair with Monica Lewinsky. He understood that the only way this country can work is if we all have a level of unfounded confidence in our lawmakers and an incomplete awareness of how the government actually works. Clinton was trying to keep us all in a necessary state of blissful ignorance, including the naïve assumption that the most powerful man in the world uses his power in only an "appropriate" way. The true fools are those actors who try to deny their own production--and who now risk bringing the whole set crumbling to the ground.

Kate Mason is a sophomore in Ezra Stiles.

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