A famous Saturday Night Live skit, "More
Cowbell," features a rock group with three guitars, a drum set and a cowbell
in a recording studio operated by an egomaniac producer. Will Ferrell is cowbell
player Gene Frenkle. The producer, Bruce Dickinson, is played by Christopher Walken. As
the group tries to lay down its first track, Dickinson repeatedly interrupts
them, emerging from the sound booth to tell Frenkle politely, "I could use
more cowbell." Exasperated, he finally explains there's only one cure to his mysterious
fever. "I gotta have more cowbell!"
The phrase has lingered with me through the years. It can describe those occasions when more of something leads to
its destruction. The clamor of Sunday morning talk shows is a case in
point. Panelists often interrupt each other, increasing their volume to support
their argument. Politicians employ the strategy in quieter, more subtle
ways.
Cowbell Politics involves the creation of distractions
that drown out the harmony of civil discourse. Raised voices are not needed to
do that. Slogans, truisms, accusations, platitudes and irrelevancies serve
nicely. When I hear talk show panelists and politicians resort to it I want to shout, "You gotta have more cowbell!"
A dog whistle operates at
frequencies heard only by dogs. Dog whistle politics simply uses a more personalized
cowbell. It targets a potentially controversial message to specific voters
while avoiding offending those who may disagree with it. Political cowbells and
dog whistles have the same intent: distract the listener from an underlying
message.
I thought of cowbells and dog
whistles when I watched Indiana Gov. Mike Pence interviewed by George
Stephanopoulos last Sunday morning. A few days earlier Pence had signed the
Indiana Religious Freedom Restoration Act. The title alone suggests a dog
whistle. The First Amendment declares government shall not "prohibit the
free exercise of religion." Had Indiana residents lost that right?
When Stephanopoulos
repeatedly asked Pence if the law would allow a business to deny service to gays
and lesbians based on the owner's personal religious beliefs, Pence began
ringing his cowbell, declaring many other states had passed similar laws, President
Clinton had signed a federal version of it in 1993 and Barack Obama voted for one.
Pence refused to answer whether he,
personally, agreed business owners should be allowed to deny service based
on their religious beliefs, ringing in the trusty, "I'm for religious freedom and
against discrimination" tune.
The following day Pence doubled down
in a Wall Street Journal op-ed piece. But he wanted to make it clear he wasn't a
bigot. "If I saw a restaurant owner refuse to serve a gay couple, I
wouldn't eat there anymore." He didn't say if he'd stay for dessert. He
also declared, "As governor of
Indiana, if I were presented a bill that legalized discrimination against any
person or group, I would veto it."
Two days later, only after facing enormous economic and political
backlash, did Gov. Pence agree to sign an amended bill prohibiting businesses
from denying service to gays and lesbians. In this case it appears even more cowbell couldn't cure the fever of political self-interest.
