Courtesy of Casey Lartigue Jr.
By Casey Lartigue Jr.
As a former political analyst, media specialist and failed athlete, I read with great interest David A. Tizzard’s recent commentary mourning the loss of objectivity in journalism and politics (“Korean politics: Where did we go wrong?”). The claim that “We get sports right, but not politics” relies on selective observation and a romanticized view of both journalism and sports commentary.
Tizzard asks: “So why do we demand objectivity in sports but accept pure subjectivity in politics?” I am not sure if he is right about this issue related to Korea, but I will add a mainly American perspective.
Let’s start with Stephen A. Smith. A journalist turned pundit, he is known more for his passionate rants than calm, analytical breakdowns. He just signed a five-year, $100 million contract, getting paid more for talking about what others are actually doing. His brand is built on opinion, provocation and emotional intensity. Sports journalism at the highest levels is fueled by bias, exaggeration and tribal loyalty. Skip Bayless, Colin Cowherd and countless others draw audiences by leaning into their biases.
Flip through local team broadcasts and you’ll get two completely different versions of the same game. The hometown announcers grudgingly admit when players on their teams are at fault. Calls that are obvious fouls on one station are terrible officiating on the other. Arguments among sports commentators — many of whom are current or former journalists — are much more heated than political arguments. Even national announcers who try to present both sides often get denounced for being biased, especially if they are former athletes calling games involving their former teams. Fans and players are willing to accept bad rulings by referees when they are in their favor and are outraged when the opposing team receives favorable calls.
I will say there is a key difference between sports and politics: the scoreboard. No matter how much fans argue, the team with the most points at the end of the game wins. Period. You might complain about the referees, but the result is final, and most fans move on to the next game or season.
In politics, it’s not that simple. A candidate can win an election and still face accusations that the results were rigged, the machines malfunctioned, the ballots were mishandled and that the voters for the other candidate are stupid. Disputes over election legitimacy have become a recurring feature of modern political life, in South Korea, the United States of America and probably other countries. In sports, the scoreboard ends the debate. In politics, the election outcome can be the beginning of new arguments and endless allegations, and until the next election, the losers will continue to doubt the results and attempt to undermine the opposing party that won.
I once heard conservative commentator Rush Limbaugh cite a professor who said that sport is the one place in life where people are allowed to be completely passionate, with no consequences. Joe Madison, my former fellow talk show host at XM 169, used to ask why people avoided political fights, especially when they called his show. He argued that people were more animated and passionate about sports than politics.
Tizzard’s deeper argument, partially based on a book he read, is that politics has somehow devolved into an arena of emotion, spectacle and commodification. But politics hasn’t become contentious and emotional recently. At least in the American context, the Founding Fathers of the United States intentionally designed a system of government that thrives on tension and friction. The checks and balances baked into the Constitution guarantee that no branch holds absolute power. Factions were anticipated and disagreement was built in. As James Madison wrote in Federalist No. 10, the goal was not to eliminate factions but to manage their effects through a republic, not a pure democracy.
The South Korean system seems to be a hybrid of other systems and has also taken on similar political tension, with one party capturing the presidency and the other ruling the National Assembly. The tension is baked in the Korean democracy recipe, and some people overreact as Tizzard’s student who said she didn’t want to live in the same country as President Yoon Suk Yeol. Looking at the history of how former South Korean presidents have been impeached, imprisoned, exiled, committed suicide, been assassinated and how political battles often spill into the streets with mass protests and counterprotests, I am not sure when there has been an age of peace in Korean politics. In ancient times, kings and queens were even blamed for droughts and Kim Young-sam was called the “bad-luck president.”
And as far as people becoming emotional lately about politics, in 1804, sitting U.S. Vice President Aaron Burr shot Alexander Hamilton dead in a duel. In 1856, Congressman Preston Brooks nearly beat Sen. Charles Sumner to death on the Senate floor. Smear campaigns in the 1800s were vicious, Andrew Jackson fought duels in the 1810s. Let’s not pretend we’ve fallen from some golden age of civility.
And about media bias, Tizzard wrote, “Journalists aren’t journalists anymore. They are agenda pushers.” When were journalists not agenda pushers? From the openly partisan newspapers of the early republic, to the yellow journalism of the 1890s, to wartime propaganda, Cold War polarization and even the uncritical reporting that helped justify countries entering various wars, they have long been agenda pushers.
During the early republic, American newspapers were openly partisan mouthpieces — the Gazette of the United States for the Federalists, and the National Gazette for the Democratic-Republicans. There was no golden age of pure, apolitical journalism; journalists have long been agenda pushers. To pretend that bias is a modern disease or unique to today is to ignore centuries of media history.
Tizzard’s frustration with performative journalism is understandable. But idealizing sports as a model of objectivity misreads both fields. Sports media thrives on passion and bias. It just happens to be a bias we forgive. Political journalism, by contrast, is expected to be above the fray, even as it deals with higher stakes.
That’s why the comparison ultimately fails. It’s not that sports are more objective. We accept its subjectivity because the outcomes are clear, the stakes feel safe and the passion is accepted. Politics is messier because it shapes our lives, rights and futures.
Casey Lartigue Jr. ([email protected]) is the co-founder of Freedom Speakers International with Lee Eun-koo; and co-author with Han Song-mi of her memoir "Greenlight to Freedom: A North Korean Daughter’s Search for Her Mother and Herself.”
English (United States) ·