Bernie Sander's nomination bid is entering Act V, Scene V. Perhaps he can turn to his Roman double for succour
By N.M.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, that master of political theatre whose quatercentenary is upon us, will be delighted to see his most consummate speechmaker participating in the enormously entertaining 2016 American elections. Enter Bernie Sanders as Mark Antony. Friends, Americans, countrymen, lend us your ears.
The democratic socialist—who would certainly look distinguished in a majestically rumpled toga—and the Roman politician have much in common. Neither were taken seriously at the outset of their careers; just as Brutus naively dismisses the threat that Mark Antony poses to his authority (he ignores Cassius’s warning, “Know you how much the people may be moved | By that which he will utter?”), Hillary Clinton clearly expected to dispatch her rival long ago. Mr Sanders, a balding socialist foaming against crony capitalism, was perceived to be an underdog likeable enough to be indulged. His surprisingly long-lived insurrection now looks to be entering Act V, but his principled fight to put left-wing populism at the heart of the election will live after him.
Like his ancient predecessor, Mr Sanders has proved to be a surprisingly charismatic platform speaker, adept in the rhetorical arts of repetition, sarcasm and verbal irony. Mark Antony understood the value of pathos—presenting himself as a “plain blunt man”, and addressing the plebeians as his “good friends, sweet friends”. Mr Sanders, too, has established a club-like camaraderie; those present at his rallies are “[his] friends” and a sense of collective closeness is fostered, whereby supporters are active in his political campaign: “many of you were down on the lake with me when we announced on that beautiful day”.
Rhetorically, the senator from Vermont’s strategy of running a positive campaign could be borrowed from the Roman general’s playbook. Mark Antony is given leave to speak at Julius Caesar’s funeral, provided his speech “shall advantage more than do [the assassins] wrong.” He repeatedly references these “honourable men” but it gradually becomes clear that this is an ironic sneer, repeated to the point of ridicule. The line “Yet Brutus says [Caesar] was ambitious” is repeated, too, suggesting a mindless toeing of the party line. The “honour” of these men is plainly juxtaposed with—and contradicted by—their bloody crime: “the honourable men | Whose daggers have stabbed Caesar.”
Mr Sanders never fails to declare his admiration and respect for his worthy opponent—while subtly undermining her. To those that accuse him of breaking his promise of positivity—et tu, Bernie—he indignantly demands: “How often have I talked about Hillary Clinton’s emails? Have you heard me? Not a word. How often have I talked about the Clinton Foundation’s fundraising? Have you heard me say one word about it during the campaign?”
Where Mark Antony deems himself the “meek and gentle” figure among the “butchers”, Mr Sanders posits himself as a bastion of truth and transparency against Ms Clinton’s Wall Street collusion. “She has the entire establishment behind her, that’s a fact, I don’t deny it,” he concedes. He adds, “I represent the people who are not enamoured of the establishment.”
Mark Antony comes “to bury Caesar, not to praise him” but (predictably) ends up doing the opposite. If Mr Sanders has come to praise Ms Clinton’s speeches—sardonically supposing them “Shakespearean” to deserve a $600,000 speaking fee—he ends up damning them. How good it would be, he notes, if the rest of the world were privy to the transcripts of those outstanding speeches. Ms Clinton—versed long ago in the rhetoric of political campaigning—has struck back. Enough of the “innuendo by insinuation”, she has said. “If you’ve got something to say, say it directly.”
When Mark Antony finished his funeral oration, the mob—which a short while before was calling for a statue to be raised to the honourable Brutus—was poised to “burn his body”. We live in less sanguinary times. Yet Mr Sanders's cunning oration achieves the same end; when Ms Clinton accused him of “artful smears”, the plebeians booed.
