How the New Right Can Subvert the Media's 'Villainous Ensemble' Narrative

Knowing what the end product of a journalist’s effort will look like can guide how to deal with him or her–and how to leverage that insight into a communications victory (or even a strategic draw).

David Reaboi

Jul 1, 2022

The afternoon sun leaked out over the hills, across the Danube, through the tall windows of the bistro, and into my eyes. As I reached for my sunglasses, I looked up to see a man sheepishly introducing himself.

The slight, sloped-shouldered New Yorker writer Andrew Marantz introduced himself and mentioned that he’d sent me some messages, hoping for an interview about my trip to CPAC in Hungary. I would be one of a growing ensemble of American conservatives who’ve become interested in Hungary’s politics and governing example. Would I have time to chat now–or maybe later?

“No,” I told him. “I really have nothing to say to The New Yorker.” A few well-intentioned people did, however, hoping they could steer the story in a more positive direction–or, at least, provide some balance and context.

The article Marantz ended up writing—“Does Hungary Offer a Glimpse of Our Authoritarian Future?”—is on the cover of this week’s print edition. It’s as unserious as I was certain it would be, but it was also far less entertaining than I’d expect from the New Yorker.

There’s this new and growing genre of mainstream, corporate media profiles of post-liberals—or the New Right, or whatever you’d like to call it—that sets out to introduce Left-wing readers to this new phenomenon and cast of characters. We’ve seen several deeply-reported attempts to vilify National Conservatism, Catholic Integralism and, of course, the Claremont Institute, in order to create new Hate Objects for their audiences. And more are on the way (including, in the case of Claremont, from the Washington Post).

The New Yorker piece was an example of what could be called, the “Villainous Ensemble Profile”: a feature story describing a scene or group of people comprised of small, reported details that are meant to convey that the subjects are malignant, mouth-breathing, pathetic-yet-dangerous dorks.

These details aren’t simply providing “color.” The cheap shots and snide asides that fill every article about one of the Left’s Hate Objects is the whole point. Quotes from the villains are decontextualized; they just hang there, characterized darkly.

For example, Marantz’s trip to CPAC in Orlando yielded nothing at all of substance about Hungary or any of the story’s protagonists—but it did provide an opportunity to get some digs in on the hated enemy. A typical, tiresome passage:

I saw [Seb Gorka] the next day in the [Orlando CPAC] V.I.P. lounge, near a spread that was both lavish and pedestrian: silver, scalloped carafes of coffee with Starbucks to-go cups; a tureen of lukewarm fettuccine Alfredo. (My press pass did not technically allow me access to the V.I.P. lounge, but CPAC, as it turned out, did not have very tight border security.) A graffiti-style portrait of Trump hugging and kissing an American flag, just auctioned off for more than twelve thousand dollars, was propped against a cardboard box and a pile of plastic wrap, waiting to be shipped to the lucky winner. J. D. Vance, a former anti-Trump venture capitalist who had rebranded himself as a pro-Trump salt-of-the-earth Senate candidate, chatted with Eric Bolling, a news anchor who left Fox News amid allegations of sexual harassment, which he denied, and was later hired by Newsmax. The pro-Brexit politician Nigel Farage waited in the buffet line next to Devin Nunes, a former member of Congress who now runs Trump’s struggling media company. Father Frank Pavone, a Catholic priest wearing his clerical collar, chatted with Todd Starnes, a pundit whose Fox News contract wasn’t renewed after he appeared to endorse the view that Democrats may worship Moloch, the Canaanite god associated with child sacrifice. “The networking here is amazing!” Pavone said.

I suspect Marantz believes he’s a kind of swashbuckling Hunter Thompson or Tom Wolfe, but ersatz New Journalism goofing on the Squares in 2022 is terribly stale. Rather than paint complex portraits of his subject—or even create a string of memorable and evocative bit players—he lazily goes for a single cheap kill-shot each, hoping the shorthand would be enough for the reader to get the gist: these people are your new Hate Objects, and they have nothing of value to say.

Naturally, the vilification ritual works to some extent: a relatively small number of crazy people have to go buy more string to connect the thumb-tacks tracing the plot points and connections comprising their new conspiracies.

Still, it’s clear that these long-form Villainous Ensemble Profiles aren’t drawing any real blood. Not long ago, an unflattering profile in a large-circulation or high-prestige outlet like the New Yorker would be enough to destroy careers. As the media’s credibility collapsed amid its abandonment of objectivity, however, the sting from their attacks grew weaker.

The state of our national disunion creeps into this, too—like it does into everything. A thoroughly radicalized, woke media no longer has the ability to gauge what is within the mainstream of political discourse, and what’s a potentially damaging opposition research hit. When we no longer have any shared principles, simply stating our ideological enemy’s position in their own words is outrageous enough.

Ultimately, these pieces (in Vanity Fair, the New York Times, or elsewhere) are all unsatisfying in the same way. They might succeed in what they set out to do—create new villains with which to frighten their blue-pilled readers—but their power to destroy their enemies has, thankfully, mostly disappeared.

For my friends and colleagues on the New Right: there will be many more of these Villainous Ensemble Profiles of us over the next several years as the movement gains influence. While mostly irrelevant, the mainstream media still has the power to shape narratives or to cause some headaches. Knowing more about how media and journalism works is beneficial.

One thing that’s often overlooked is that understanding the genre of an article is crucial to navigating strategic communications situations. Is it a news story? Will it focus on a Hero or a Villain? Is it a feature with one subject, or several?

In other words, knowing what the end product of a journalist’s effort will look like can guide how to deal with him or her–and how to leverage that insight into a communications victory (or even a strategic draw).

Most short-form journalism emerges from fishbowl newsrooms, written by a cadre of over-educated, urban, twenty- or thirty-somethings with tiresome, fashionable social justice politics. Unsurprisingly, editors send the most intelligent reporters to do the longer, more in-depth pieces.

Often, the writers of these articles will contact me with questions, or to get me to help them out with these long-form, deep-background articles. They are relatively intelligent reporters from well-funded, once-prestigious, Left-wing corporate media. It’s easy to say that these journalists make no effort to understand their subjects, or to deal with them objectively–but most of them truly believe they’re being objective. They’re just the Good People who are assigned the task of writing about the Bad People.

Conservatives—with bitter experience dealing with hostile media themselves, or having seen their extreme bias in action with friends or colleagues—are often tempted to try to soften a potentially hostile story by giving a quote or participating enough to win some sympathy from the journalist. Others just like to see their names in print, or believe (often mistakenly) that any press is good press.

Most on the Right by now, however, ignore these requests for comment or background knowing their words will be twisted. This is usually the right way to play it, from a strategic angle. But the reason why that’s the case is more complicated than simply wanting to avoid potential self-harm or getting canceled.

Articles vilifying the ideas of the New Right are written by opinion columnists, academics, or professional activists; articles vilifying the people of the New Right are written by reporters.

It might seem obvious, but several important things flow from that: Without people willing to go either on the record or on background for a reporter, the story is too thin and uninteresting to run. Reporters are looking for drama, which means that (1) they need sources to talk to them and dish; and (2) the shape and thrust of the story will be based on what sources tell them.

This means that the subjects of these pieces have more power than they think; if they form a unified block and deny access to a reporter, it will be close to impossible for the reporter to get the story he wants. He will grow frustrated—which is often a good in itself—and he will have to modify his story in the direction of the source material he does have. He might abandon the project altogether.

Perhaps more importantly, though, a total source blackout will open a hostile long-form journalist to the most basic of legitimate criticisms. It’s hard to take a deeply-reported piece seriously when there’s no input from any of the main characters. The finished product will appear cheap and distorted.

But, you might say: the reporter can easily write mean stuff based on oppo files and internet sleuthing and slander the subjects. Of course, but, if the reporter is contacting you on background or to do an in-depth profile, that is clearly not the type of piece he’s been assigned to do. More than likely, too, it’s not the kind of piece that he wants to write, either; journalists are aware that fresh reporting is more credible than a polemical screed.

Some more tips:

—When you are contacted by a hostile corporate media outlet, try to figure out genre story the reporter is intent on writing—and that means more than the subject. Is it tightly focused on an event or controversy, or is it more like a feature or a profile? Sometimes this is apparent, like when they drop a request for comment at the last minute before press-time; sometimes it takes some research on the reporter’s past work to figure out; sometimes it makes the most sense just to ask.

—Find out who else is the reporter speaking to and who else he approached. Who turned him down? Often, you can figure out what the story will look like by reverse-engineering the sources. Even being aware of the other potential sources will remove some of the surprise when the piece is published. Even if you expect them to lie to you, you must at least ask the reporter who else they’ve contacted.

—Always ask for questions in writing. If he’s tasked with writing a Villainous Ensemble Profile, the reporter will invariably be disappointed with this request. He’d like to engage in a wide-ranging conversation that would enable him to tug on some of the threads that come up. He’s also looking for color and detail, which is far more difficult to obtain with written answers.