The Veil of Political Scandal: Are we missing the real problem?

Illustrations by Grace McKenna

So, apparently Donald Trump and Bill Clinton had a thing on the side.

Last week, Congress disclosed over 2,000 of American sex offender Jeffery Epstein’s emails from the decade leading up to his death. The first leak, revealing from Epstein himself that ‘of course’ U.S. president Donald Trump ‘knew about the girls’, was surprisingly not the information that turned the most heads. An email sent to Epstein by his brother, Mark, suggested that Russian president Vladimir Putin might have photos of Trump performing sex acts on a mysterious ‘Bubba’; this is a well-known nickname of former U.S. president Bill Clinton, who was impeached after a scandalous affair with a White House intern. Don’t freak out, though—the Intelligencer reassures us that Mark Epstein’s email was ‘conflating two presidential sex scandals to humorous effect’. 

Nevertheless, the internet exploded at this leak. Posts attempting to further uncover a secret romance between Trump and Clinton went viral, and videos of their interactions—both real and AI-generated—have taken over Instagram, Facebook, TikTok, and X. Though Mark Epstein has stated that the email did ‘not, in any way’ include reference to Bill Clinton,  the public can’t seem to let this go—and maybe rightfully so, given that the official White House TikTok account has clapped back with two comically-romantic edits of the president and his wife, fanning the flames of Internet chaos with even more short-form content. 

This type of hysteria tends to occur in politics, especially today. More serious issues of government neglect or injustice are overshadowed by ‘reality TV’-esque scandals. This phenomenon feeds the public, who would rather focus on an absurdly scandalous—but, ultimately, widely insignificant—tryst between Trump and a former Democratic president than the more disheartening political news that seems to plague the United States. It also serves to benefit the government officials who are trying to dodge responsibility for their more serious policy failures. In the midst of this ‘Bubba’ scandal, what fewer people noticed and posted about was the Trump administration’s threat to ‘flood’ New York City with federal officials to carry out a mass deportation if the local government refuses to comply with federal immigration authorities. The same mass oversight occurred when, in late October, Trump announced plans to demolish the historic East Wing of the White House to build his very own lavish ballroom. Millions of Americans—citizens and government officials alike—reacted in shock and horror online. While many of these people also expressed outrage at the ongoing government shutdown, whose 43 days marked the longest-ever in history, the ballroom project pulled focus from the 1.4 million federal employees who went without pay for weeks, the airline passengers whose flights were delayed or canceled, and the low-income Americans facing food suspensions. Somehow, Donald Trump managed to shift attention from his reluctance to negotiate an efficient end to the shutdown to a more eye-catching scandal: reducing the East Wing to rubble. 

This diversion tactic—whether intentional or not—isn’t unique to the United States. In May 2020, ‘Partygate’ stirred up further resentment for U.K. Prime Minister Boris Johnson as he was photographed sharing a wine and cheese soirée with his staff at Downing Street as COVID-19 cases soared during the pandemic. At the time, British legal restrictions stipulated that people could not leave their house without a reasonable excuse, unless it was to meet one non-household companion in an outdoor setting for exercise. Johnson invited an estimated 100 people to drinks in the garden on the 20th of May, and about 30 of them attended; the following month, he held another 30-person gathering in his office for his birthday, breaching the rules his own administration had set for the public. Conservative Party staff also admitted to holding prohibited gatherings during the height of the pandemic lockdown. Meanwhile, the U.K. government was also under fire for policies allowing the rapid discharging of thousands of hospital patients into English care homes without COVID-19 testing—putting healthy patients at risk—in an effort to free up hospital beds. There were also reports of ‘do-not-resuscitate’ orders placed on sick patients—especially those who were elderly or had disabilities—by the NHS without prior consultation of their families. These life-threatening legislative failures were swallowed up in the hubbub of Partygate.

Of course, paying attention to the social doings of government leaders is undeniably very important, as our executives should be held accountable to the same standards that we are. Obviously, we don’t want our presidents consorting with sex offenders or our prime ministers promoting medical irresponsibility. Politics has always been a popularity contest, and these figures are often depicted like celebrities in the media, fueling an onslaught of constant gossip. It’s not only easy but also both fun and vindicating to watch and critique their every social move, especially given the swaths of satirical material readily available to us on our phones. However, in doing so, we often ignore or place on the backburner some very real executive and legislative failures. 

We are living in ‘post-satirical times’ according to the Guardian. Sex scandals, ballrooms, and garden parties are hilariously useful distractions from more sinister doings, especially for a public much more eager to digest and regurgitate snappy stories that allow them to treat politicians like their least favorite reality TV star. Politics is scary right now, so we become complicit in the media’s attempt to push our deeper worries away with simple headlines—and we’re buying what they’re selling. The news cycle is vicious and quick, and it’s training our political engagement to be shallow and constantly bouncing from one concern to the next. Is it possible, in today’s short-form-content-breeding world, to focus on the real problems?