his campaign slogan “Make
America Great Again” is meant
to be an act of reclamation, the
execution
leaves
something
to be desired. In fact, many of
these
ridiculous
soundbites
have become commodified into
t-shirts, hats and other forms
of apparel. When these words
are converted into vehicles for
corporate exploitation, the value
of retaliating against Trump’s
malicious words is essentially
neutralized and lost. The same
goes for Trump supporters trying
to reclaim critiques of Trump;
during the 2016 presidential
race, Hillary Clinton’s comment
about Trump supporters being
a “basket of deplorables” was
reclaimed as a positive label and
a literal symbol of pride among
Trump’s most loyal advocates.
Today’s
political
memes
operate
as
a
frustrating
paradox: In one sense, they
capture the absurdity of the
current
administration
and
American politics as a whole,
but
simultaneously,
they
can
normalize
and
enable
problematic discourse, granting
Trump and other like-minded
bigots
more
exposure
and
attention. It’s an accessible, yet
counterproductive
and
lazy
tactic that only amplifies these
dangerous platforms. Political
memes may be uplifting as
rallying cries at protests, and in
some cases, their impact could
enlighten and inspire people to
get more involved in political
discussions.
But
considering
the wider effect modern-day
political memes engender, they
really do nothing but satisfy
and reinforce the political self-
interest of the person making the
meme and the people they share
it with.
Despite
the
smugness
underlying
today’s
political
memes, they still have the
potential to influence political
conversation for the better. Vic
Berger, a video editor for the
now-defunct Super Deluxe and
an outspoken critic of Trump,
juxtaposes real-life interviews
and mishaps made by Trump and
other members of the GOP with
uncomfortable zoom-ins on their
faces and jarring sound effects
(most notably the sound of an
air horn). The result is surreal,
strange, hilarious and sometimes
harrowing. Instead of merely
using Trump’s words against
him, Berger brilliantly conveys
that American politics is as
farcical as it is terrifying. Other
online users have capitalized on
fabricating celebrity clickbait
as a way to get people to vote, a
strategy that, while certainly
manipulative,
deserves
some
recognition for its cleverness.
If memes reflect and dictate
the conversation surrounding
trends in pop culture, political
memes should find a way to do
the same with the conversation
surrounding trends in politics.
And if political memes have the
power to change the way we
understand politics, then they
should at least have the courtesy
to communicate an incentive
that’s both entertaining and
compelling.
In
other
words:
meme
responsibly.
NEW MEDIA NOTEBOOK
It’s no secret that social media
is a volatile virtual battleground
where both ends of the political
spectrum clash and converge on
hot-button topics. But amid the
mucky mess of heated Twitter
threads
and
essay-length
Facebook posts, people seem to
have found comfort and stability
through arguably the greatest
postmodern art form produced
on the internet: memes.
Like most general memes, a
political meme can be a source
of humor, a comedic avenue
that connects and familiarizes
us with political figures and
social issues that, in a real-
world context, aren’t nearly
as engaging. They shape the
way we understand those who
govern our country, either by
poking fun at their out-of-touch
personalities or championing
their ability to identify with the
American public.
The “meme-ing” of President
Obama,
in
particular,
was
impactful in how the internet
and American society at large
perceived him during his time in
office. The relatability of his cool,
friendly demeanor translated
well online, whether through
his goofy facial expressions, his
interactions
with
celebrities
or
his
endearing
bromance
with former Vice President Joe
Biden. His supporters would
re-contextualize
photos
and
videos of him as humorous and
silly, while his critics would
depict him in an offensive and
oftentimes racist light.
“Thanks Obama,” a common
sarcastic
critique
meant
to
ridicule Obama’s mistakes, was
reclaimed as a satirical, self-
deprecating meme by liberals
and
even
Obama
himself.
Former First Lady Michelle also
garnered quite a bit of internet
exposure. Originally used in a
video promoting healthy eating,
Michelle’s anecdote about her
favorite fall vegetable (a sweet
potato) and her quip about
turnips (“Turnip for What”)
quickly circulated on Vine and
across the Web. Even after
Barack’s second term ended, he
and Michelle remain internet
icons;
their
laid-back
post-
presidency vacation photos and
lavish
presidential
portraits
provoked a series of memes on
Twitter, many of which praised
the couple for relishing their
time away from the chaos of the
White House.
While political memes like
these can be innocuous, they
also have the capacity to be
simplistic, ruthless and even
sinister. In the age of Trump
especially,
they’ve
become
weaponized
by
liberals
and
conservatives alike to combat
one another online, manifesting
in the form of tongue-in-cheek
and trenchant jabs at Democrats
and Republicans, senators and
political
commentators
and,
perhaps most of all, the President
himself. Because of his political
incompetence, frequent factual
blunders and general ineptitude
at being a normal human person,
Trump is an easy target for a lot
of negative memes that, though
amusing at face value, aren’t very
effective long-term takedowns.
While meme-ing Trumpian
buzzwords like “nasty woman,”
“bad hombre,” “covfefe” and
WIKIMEDIA COMMONS
Red, white & meme: When
politics & Twitter meet
SAM ROSENBERG
Senior Arts Editor
KNOWYOURMEME
—Verity Sturm, Daily Arts
Writer
To me, the best part of the
installation
was
watching
people’s feet. It’s rare to see
crowds of people
collectively
handling
things
gently, but if you
looked
at
the
ground
at
the
spaces in between
the books, you’d
see a lot of fully
grown
adults
carefully making
their way through
the
dark
street
on their tiptoes.
Nobody wanted to
damage the books,
and
if
anybody
stepped
on
one
accidentally, they
would
almost
instinctively
jump back. One
guy was tripping
over
himself,
trying to run through the
crowd while shouting, “WE
WON’T HURT THE BOOKS,
WE
WON’T
HURT
THE
BOOKS.” Everybody around
him instantly cleared a path
— a collective agreement that
books are at least a little bit
precious, and we all want to
protect precious things.
— Asif Becher, Daily Books
Editor
It’s quarter to 8:00, I’m
walking home from The Daily
newsroom
and
about
five
minutes in I’m very perplexed
by
the
mass
of
people
surrounding the intersection
of State and Liberty. Ann
Arbor streets only ever get
this crowded for big sports
victories,
but
the
patient
huddle gathered in front of me
was quite the polar opposite
of a revelrous, drunken mass.
I had seen the metric ton of
tomes coming back from class
earlier in the day, but I thought
it was nothing more than a
24-hour art installation — and
despite the sheer volume of
books on the street, my lasting
reaction was “cool.” Yet it just
happened that I stumbled into
the main event of “Literature
vs. Traffic” like I do most good
things in my life: accidentally.
Albeit what I think is a silly
name (if you actually want
to pit the two entities against
each other then remove the
barricades, you cowards) I
slyly sauntered my way into
the magic of the moment. I
heard around me that once the
clock struck 8:00 any book on
the pavement was ripe for the
picking. My phone read 7:50
but I think the fact kids were
allowed to peruse the literary
lot early made onlookers a
little jumpy, so I dove in when
there was enough people in the
middle for me to go unnoticed.
My first intention was to find
“great books” that I had long
missed out on and finally get
an excuse to read them, but
when the first cover I flipped
over was “Heart of Darkness”
I realized I wasn’t doing this
right.
Instead
I
trounced
around looking for the most
unwieldy shapes and bizarre
illustrations. In a sentence I
hope has never been written
before, a giddy smile was
brought to my face when the
cover of a book I picked up read
“L. Ron Hubbard: Scientology
and
the
Fundamentals
of
Thought.” My coffee table is all
the weirder now with pickups
like
“Decorative
Victorian
Needlework” and a Matlab
textbook entirely in Chinese.
Street books, thank you for
being surreal, mysterious and
a reminder of why we love to
read in the first place.
— Robert Mansuetti, Daily
Arts Writer
BOOKS EVENT
This Tuesday Oct. 23, a public
art project by the University’s
Institute for Humanities called
“Literature vs. Traffic” was
installed on Liberty St. Over
10,000 books covered the street
all day, and pedestrians were
invited to walk through the
books and pick from them at
night. Among the thousands
of Ann Arbor residents who
experienced the display were
three
Daily
Book
Review
writers. These are their stories:
I went to the “Literature vs.
Traffic” installment twice on
Tuesday, once in the daylight
and once after dark. In the
daylight, the books looked
like a scene straight from that
Russian avant-garde film “The
Color of Pomegranates” (you
should talk to Emily Yang
about it), their sun-dappled
pages rustling ever so slightly
in the breeze, giving the entire
installment a sense of gentle
motion — reliable aliveness,
like that of an ocean. My
daylight visit was before they
opened the gates to the rabid
bibliophiles, but let me tell
you that didn’t stop them. I
witnessed an elderly woman
hop the fence and tiptoe out
into the sea of novels and
pick up one in particular that
caught her eye. On the other
side of the installment, one
of the volunteers noticed and
yelled “HEY, HEY, DON’T
DO THAT YET! PUT DOWN
THAT BOOK!” Pure comedy,
heightened by the imagery of
the fence around all the books,
not unlike the fence penning
in the little concrete stack
of books statue outside the
Clements library, which always
just licked my funny bone. Isn’t
it massively hypocritical to
erect fences around our books,
even the representative ones?
I stole away from my job for
20 minutes at night to revisit
the installment, my interest
piqued from all the weird
books students were bringing
to
the
Perlman
Honors
Commons. On my power walk
over, I witnessed student after
student
carrying
veritable
armfuls of weird, old, LED-
illuminated titles, something
I doubt I’ll ever see again. The
eavesdropping
was
prime:
“Where is everyone getting
all these books? The local
bookstore?” “No, they’re in
the street.” In the thick of the
installment, pawing through
these
strange,
picked-over
tomes, I felt the weird sort
of urgency one experiences
in a crowded store: the need
to
examine
all
the items, to find
the one you want
before
someone
else does. It’s a
slimy feeling. At
least in this case,
it was cut a little
by
a
collective
mirth
at
the
bizarre selection.
The
guy
next
to me pondered
aloud who would
need
a
volume
of
homeopathic
remedies
for
maternity
pains,
and
the
woman
ahead
chuckled
at a guide to DIY
RV
maintenance.
I
left
with
an
ancient copy of W.
Somerset Maugham’s “Cakes
and Ale” that I had once seen
on a postcard, and “Charles
Schwab’s Guide to Financial
Independence”
in
Chinese
because I’m not sure when I’m
ever going to encounter that
again.
EMMA RICHTER / DAILY
10,000 books light up Liberty St. on Tuesday night
DAILY BOOKS
Daily Arts Writers
Among the
thousands of Ann
Arbor residents
who experienced
the display were
three Daily Book
Review writers.
These are their
stories
Despite the
smugness
underlying today’s
political memes,
they still have
the potential to
influence political
conversation for
the better
6B — Thursday, October 25, 2018
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com