Why the New Yorker Cover of Barack Obama is Not Satire

Many people have expressed outrage over an illustration which appeared on a recent New Yorker cover depicting Barack Obama as an anti-American radical. The New Yorker has defended it as satire, but it's really hate speech.

The illustration, which adorned the July 21, 2008 issue of The New Yorker, hit newsstands on July 15. Titled "The Politics of Fear," it was drawn by illustrator Barry Blitt. The drawing shows Mr. Obama in white Muslim garb giving a "black power" salute to his wife, Michelle, who sports an Afro and bandoliers. Michelle is also holding a rifle. An American flag burns in the fireplace, and a picture of Osama Bin Laden hangs on the wall. The illustration can be found in a collection of Mr. Blitt's work on The New Yorker website.

The American Heritage Dictionary (4th Ed. 2001) defines "satire" as an artistic work that attacks human vice or folly through irony, derision, or caustic wit. But there's nothing ironic about The New Yorker illustration. It reinforces the stereotype of Barack Obama as an unpatriotic radical.

The old adage that a picture is worth a thousand words is particularly apt here. With all of the publicity it has gotten, the illustration is seared into the minds of millions of Americans who won't bother to read the accompanying article. Many blacks and Muslim-Americans are understandably outraged.

In previous editorials, I strongly criticized Barack Obama. I'll almost certainly vote for John McCain, whom I've also criticized. That said, this illustration, whether intended to be or not, is an unfair and hateful attack on Mr. Obama. While it is true that one person's satire can be another's hate speech, the New Yorker illustration crosses way over the line separating the two categories.

By definition, the illustration is not satirical. There is nothing surprising or ironic about the view of Barack Obama that it expresses. Unfortunately, many Americans buy into that image of Mr. Obama. A recent New York Post.com video cites a Newsweek poll indicating that 39 percent of Americans believe that Barack Obama attended an Islamic school when he was growing up; 26 percent believe that Barack Obama was raised as a Muslim; and 12 percent think that he was sworn into the Senate on the Koran and currently practices Islam. All of these statements are false.

Nor is the illustration witty. It goes well beyond being "caustic" and "derisive." If, like Bernie McGuirk, the infamous Imus producer who gave us nappy-headed-ho-gate, you think that the illustration is hilarious, then you've got a strange sense of humor. Rather than being clever, the New Yorker illustration presents a series of scary archetypes likely to stoke hatred among detractors of Barack Obama and frighten fence-sitters. The idea of the Obamas being a 1960s Black Panther couple feeds into the worst fears of whites. The image of terror mastermind Osama Bin Laden conjures up hatred, rage and painful memories of the September 11th attacks. The New Yorker argues that the illustration satirizes the public's fear of Barack Obama, but it is more likely to spread the very fear that New Yorker management claims it is lampooning.

In a CNN interview on July 16, 2008, Mr. Obama downplayed the effect the illustration will have on his campaign while admitting that it will cause some damage to his candidacy. In press statements, campaign spokespersons for Barack Obama and John McCain condemned the illustration as "offensive." Time will tell, but I suspect that the illustration will have more impact than Barack Obama thinks.

The eight other New Yorker covers designed by Mr. Blitt do not demonstrate anywhere near the same level of invective as the one featuring Barack Obama. They include a chaotic Bush cabinet meeting; Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad in a toilet with a Larry-Craig-like foot crossing over into his stall; Vice President Dick Cheney having his blood pressure taken in a doctor's office; Martin Luther King, Jr. desperately trying to hail a cab; presidential candidates George W. Bush and John Kerry on podiums, with Bush dressed as a plebeian golfer and Kerry in a spit-and-polish naval officer's uniform; polar bears and penguins cooling off in front of an open fire hydrant; an emotionally torn Hillary Clinton simultaneously wearing Mets and Yankees caps; and President Bush and Vice President Cheney as characters in "The Odd Couple."

The Ahmadinejad illustration comes in a distant second to that of Barack Obama. While the depiction of bodily functions is offensive to some people, no significant fear factor is present. Moreover, there is no equivalence between a ruthless dictator bent on acquiring nuclear weapons and an American presidential nominee of a major political party. Finally, a cartoonist depicting Ahmadinejad, an enemy of the United States, should be given more latitude than one caricaturing an American politician.

The New Yorker cover is protected under the First Amendment as political opinion. But because you can do something does not mean that you should do it. If a certain type of speech evokes strong negative emotions in most people, it probably isn't satire. Compare the depiction of Barack Obama in The New Yorker with a June 5, 2008 drawing by Cincinnati Enquirer cartoonist Jim Borgman which Borgman created shortly after Barack Obama clinched the Democratic nomination. In the latter drawing, an elated Obama with up-stretched arms reacts to bowling a strike amidst flying pins that spell "H-I-S-T-O-R-Y." Obama is wearing a tie and a white shirt with rolled up sleeves. It's ironic because Obama is a notoriously bad bowler. It's witty because a unique historic event is creatively coupled with a widely played, working-class sport. It good-naturedly pokes fun at Obama, who has an elitist reputation. And it would probably make most people laugh.

To be sure, Obama's treatment by The New Yorker is mild in comparison with the political mud that was slung during nineteenth century presidential campaigns. A good article on nineteenth century election vitriol appears on the website of the Hauenstein Center for Presidential Studies. The article describes the acrimonious elections of 1800 and 1828.

During the campaign of 1800, sitting vice president Thomas Jefferson challenged incumbent president John Adams for the nation's highest office. In those days, presidential candidates did not have running mates. The candidate who came in second became vice president. As a result, presidents and vice presidents could be from different parties, setting the stage for a bitter working relationship. Such was the case with Adams and Jefferson.

Jefferson often referred to Adams as "His Rotundity." Through surrogates, Jefferson argued that Adams was a tyrant for promulgating the Alien and Sedition Acts, and unpatriotic for wanting to create a standing army that Jefferson believed would undo the ideals of the American Revolution. In retaliation, Adams, through his own surrogates, spread numerous rumors about Jefferson, including claims that Jefferson had robbed a widow of her trust fund and was an atheist who, if elected, would burn churches.

During the campaign of 1828, so much invective was hurled at Andrew Jackson that his wife suffered a nervous breakdown. She died of a heart attack before Jackson was inaugurated.

Although the New Yorker illustration does not rise to the level of hatred displayed during the campaigns of 1800 and 1828, it's still hate speech. That's a step backward for civility. If we are to progress as a society, we must aspire to forward-looking ideals and shun the mud pits of our distant past.