By Bret Stephens
Over three decades have passed since Daniel Patrick Moynihan released his notable essay titled “Defining Deviancy Down.” The New York senator and scholar posited that each society could tolerate only a specific amount of behavior it categorized as “deviant.” As the prevalence of such behaviors increased — whether it be out-of-wedlock births, mentally ill individuals living on the streets, or urban violence — society tended to adapt not by prohibiting such actions, but rather by normalizing what was previously seen as unacceptable, immoral, or outrageous.
Views would transform. Standards would diminish. And individuals would adjust to the new reality.
Moynihan’s prime example was the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre in Chicago, where “four gangsters killed seven gangsters.” In 1929, this crime horrified the nation, contributing to the conclusion of Prohibition. By the early 1990s, such an event would scarcely make headlines in the inner sections of newspapers.
Had Moynihan been writing his essay today, he might have included a chapter on politics. Back in 1980, when Ronald Reagan was elected president, it was still deemed somewhat politically disadvantageous that he had been divorced 32 years prior. In 1987, Reagan’s Supreme Court nominee, Douglas Ginsburg, was compelled to withdraw his nomination after NPR’s Nina Totenberg uncovered that the judge had previously smoked marijuana. A few years later, two of Bill Clinton’s early attorney general picks, Zoë Baird and Kimba Wood, fell victim to disclosures regarding their employment of undocumented immigrants as nannies (and, for Baird, her failure to pay Social Security taxes).
How charmingly retro.
Recently, a lawyer representing two women disclosed to various news outlets that former Rep. Matt Gaetz, R-Fla., allegedly utilized Venmo to compensate multiple women for sex, with one reporting that she witnessed him engaging in sexual acts with a 17-year-old girl at a drug-fueled house party in 2017. Donald Trump is reaffirming Gaetz’s nomination for attorney general, although the president-elect privately concedes that the likelihood of confirmation is slim.
It’s crucial to highlight that Gaetz was previously the focus of a different federal investigation concerning sex trafficking allegations, which collapsed last year due to witness credibility issues. This isn’t the only high-profile Justice Department investigation that went unresolved. Sen. Ted Stevens, R-Alaska, was politically devastated by a conviction later overturned due to prosecutorial misconduct. Trump’s supposed collusion with Russia ultimately proved to be a figment of liberal imagination.
Liberals in particular ought to defend the principle of the presumption of innocence, especially for unpopular defendants. However, if this was — or once was — a liberal value, didn’t conservatives used to at least feign concern for moral principles?
Regardless of the truth surrounding Gaetz’s actions, nothing more sharply characterizes today’s Republican Party than House Speaker Mike Johnson’s refusal to disclose the Ethics Committee report regarding Gaetz, under the disingenuous guise that he has resigned from his House position. If the report contains no incriminating evidence, complete transparency should only bolster Gaetz’s argument. While smoke doesn’t necessarily equate to fire, secrecy inevitably suggests wrongdoing.
Yet, all of this overlooks the significance of the Gaetz nomination, which has little to do with his qualifications for the role. In Trump’s view, Gaetz’s lack of suitability is his redeeming quality. He embodies the tip of the spear in a broader initiative to lower the standards of acceptability. If an individual accused of statutory rape can ascend to the role of attorney general, virtually anything is conceivable — not only Tulsi Gabbard as director of national intelligence or Robert F. Kennedy Jr. as secretary of health and human services, but everything imaginable. Alex Jones as press secretary? Donald Trump Jr. has already tossed that suggestion around.
There exists a guiding rationale here — and it isn’t merely about “owning the libs,” in the sense of provoking moral outrage among Trump’s critics (even if, from the president-elect’s viewpoint, that’s an ancillary advantage). It’s about fostering a climate of cynicism, which stands at the heart of Trumpism. If truth carries no weight, it cannot be utilized. If power represents the sole currency in play, you must align with it. If the governance falls into the hands of rogues and sycophants, you’ll need to come to terms with them.
“Man becomes accustomed to everything, the beast!” Fyodor Dostoyevsky has Raskolnikov remark in “Crime and Punishment.” This is also Trump’s revelation — the strategy through which he seems determined to lead.
There’s a hopeful postscript to Moynihan’s caution. In the years following the publication of his essay, Americans collectively resolved that certain forms of deviancy — particularly violent crime — were not, in fact, behaviors they were willing to accept as an immutable reality. A significant crime bill was passed in Congress, innovative policing strategies were adopted to combat violence, urban leaders enforced regulations against minor lawbreakers, criminals were incarcerated, and cities regained their civility and livability.
Some of those advancements have been undone in more recent years, but it serves as a reminder that it is also feasible to elevate standards of acceptability. In the realm of politics, we cannot initiate that process soon enough.
