Spin This: The Trouble with Bill O'Reilly. (Columns)
Young, Cathy, Reason
To HIS DETRACTORS, Bill O'Reilly, the tough-talking host of the phenomenally popular Fox News show The O'Reilly Factor, exemplifies the meanness and vulgarity of public discourse. The leftist media watchdog group Fairness and Accuracy in Reporting calls his show "The Oh Really? Factor" and takes him to task on a regular basis for mistreating guests and clutching "at any straw to avoid admitting he's wrong."
To his admirers, O'Reilly is a scourge of liberal pieties, a commentator who cuts through elitist nonsense and upholds common sense. As Stanley Kurtz put it in National Review Online, "O'Reilly's plenty smart alright, but his tough-talking, working-class hero persona drives our cultural aristocracy nuts."
Love him or hate him--or love to hate him--O'Reilly certainly pulls in the audience. By the most recent figures, his show averages nearly 2 million viewers a night, handily beating CNN's Larry King Live even though the latter is far more widely available.
O'Reilly and his Factor have much to recommend them. (For what it's worth, my sole appearance on the show, in January 2001, was a very positive experience.) He makes an effort to present both sides of an issue and to invite guests with whom he disagrees, even if he does tend to harangue them. He is upfront about his biases. His bluntness can be refreshing--for instance, when he told cartoonist Ted Rail, who decided it would be provocative to mock the pregnant widow of the slain journalist Daniel Pearl as an attention seeker, that he was making himself look like a jerk.
A wealthy graduate of Harvard's John F. Kennedy School of Government, O'Reilly positions himself as a champion of the common man against both economic and cultural elites, and as a champion of common sense against intellectual sophistry. Given the propensity of modern intellectuals to believe in preposterous things, this means that O'Reilly turns out to be right a lot of the time. He also has the guts to take stances likely to alienate a good portion of his socially conservative core audience--he's against the death penalty, for example, and condemns virulent anti-gay rhetoric.
But O'Reilly's populist conventional wisdom has its limitations. As a result, his "no-spin zone," as he calls his show, sometimes offers a rather bizarre spin on the issues.
Consider a February discussion of the Supreme Court's refusal to review a ban on the display of the Ten Commandments at the Indiana statehouse. O'Reilly asserted that the Ten Commandments do not imply the endorsement of a particular religion but merely support general spirituality and "moral behavior."
His guest, UCLA law professor Eugene Volokh, pointed out that the Ten Commandments--which include "Thou shalt have no other God before me"--belong to Judaism and Christianity. O'Reilly retorted that nothing in them could be seen as contrary to Buddhism: "Buddhism is based upon pretty much the same tenets here, monotheism, one God."
Apart from this peculiar interpretation of Buddhism, which in its various forms either recognizes no personal god or worships many god-like, enlightened beings, O'Reilly seemed to ignore completely the existence of Americans who are not monotheists but polytheists (such as Hindus), agnostics, or atheists.
Just how blinkered and dogmatic O'Reilly's "common sense" can be is most evident in his relentless cheerleading for the War on Drugs. His rhetoric on the subject rarely goes beyond some variation on "drugs are evil" and on occasion descends into outright demagoguery. Earlier this year, Ethan Nadelmann of the Drug Policy Alliance appeared on the Factor to discuss the Office of National Drug Control Policy ad that premiered during the Superbowl. The ad, which showed teenagers alternately saying things like "My life, my body" and "I helped blow up buildings," asserted--much to O'Reilly's approval--that casual drug users are helping underwrite terrorism. …