The Risk of Getting Too Big for Your Britches
In July 1834, during his journey through the Northeast, Davy Crockett delivered a lengthy speech to the citizens of Cincinnati, openly reproaching President Jackson “for getting too big for his britches”1 and behaving like a capricious monarch who refused to accept any limits to his will.
Their relationship had greatly deteriorated, despite Crockett having supported Jackson’s first presidential campaign and believed in his promises to strengthen American democracy by freeing it from the country’s corrupt elite.
The clash between them stemmed from multiple causes, including Jackson’s excessive use of the presidential veto over congressional decisions, his brand of populism, and above all the Indian Removal Act, through which he had exercised presidential authority to force the Cherokee to abandon their lands—openly defying a Supreme Court ruling.
From Crockett’s point of view, Jackson’s behavior—his open disregard for the separation of powers and his insensitivity toward the rights of Native Americans—posed a threat to democracy and had to be vigorously opposed. Nonetheless, on January 30, 1835, Crockett saved President Jackson’s life by disarming and helping to arrest the English house painter who had attempted to shoot him.
When you believe in democracy, you must also believe in its ability to correct its mistakes—without the use of violence—through serious and honest public debate.
You’re probably thinking: “This guy’s messing with us. He used a photo of Sydney Sweeney advertising American Eagle jeans to give us a history lesson.” And in a way, you’re right—but isn’t that the whole point of advertising? To find a way to grab your attention?
You can do that with a striking image that taps into a trending topic, by breaking a pattern, or by challenging a belief or a bias. Provocation has long been one of advertisers’ favorite tools for delivering a message.
So what does Davy Crockett have to do with Sydney Sweeney’s jeans? Let’s set that aside for a moment and think about the reasons behind the controversy that, in recent days, has drawn in journalists, podcasters, influencers, and bloggers.
Does it really make sense for any advertisement to promote Nazism? I don’t think so. Nazism doesn’t sell, and I’m convinced that no sane person would ever consider using eugenics to market a mass-consumption product like jeans.
But is the pun in the American Eagle ad—the play on genes and jeans—just an innocent way to highlight Sydney Sweeney’s beauty? I don’t think so either. The purpose of advertising is to grab attention, and what better way to do that than to spark a juicy controversy between fanatics?
The American Eagle ad aims to signal a break from an established paradigm—and it does so deliberately, through provocation. I don’t think, however, that anyone had anticipated the scale of the debate it ended up triggering.
Listening to the arguments behind the controversy, I get the feeling that far too many people think they’re bigger than their own britches. Whether it’s those who see the ad as some kind of liberation of white people from the oppression of a woke conspiracy, or those accusing Sydney Sweeney of promoting Nazi propaganda, both sides are trying to cast themselves as liberators, as defenders of freedom.
In reality, both camps share the same unpleasant sense of victimhood, the same aggressive language, and the same barely concealed desire to personally discredit anyone who disagrees with them. The spokespeople on both sides seem to believe they’ve been called to defend humanity against an imminent threat poised to destroy democracy.
What would Davy Crockett think about the hidden threat behind a jeans ad? I believe he’d think that public debate has seriously deteriorated, and that the populists who try to exploit raw emotion are simply too loud. I think he’d say it’s our fault—that we feed our own narcissism by seeking out bizarre commentators with deranged opinions, always ready to politicize everything.
I also believe he’d advise you to read my book:
Zombies of Marx: The Return of Practical Reason.
Their relationship had greatly deteriorated, despite Crockett having supported Jackson’s first presidential campaign and believed in his promises to strengthen American democracy by freeing it from the country’s corrupt elite.
The clash between them stemmed from multiple causes, including Jackson’s excessive use of the presidential veto over congressional decisions, his brand of populism, and above all the Indian Removal Act, through which he had exercised presidential authority to force the Cherokee to abandon their lands—openly defying a Supreme Court ruling.
From Crockett’s point of view, Jackson’s behavior—his open disregard for the separation of powers and his insensitivity toward the rights of Native Americans—posed a threat to democracy and had to be vigorously opposed. Nonetheless, on January 30, 1835, Crockett saved President Jackson’s life by disarming and helping to arrest the English house painter who had attempted to shoot him.
When you believe in democracy, you must also believe in its ability to correct its mistakes—without the use of violence—through serious and honest public debate.
You’re probably thinking: “This guy’s messing with us. He used a photo of Sydney Sweeney advertising American Eagle jeans to give us a history lesson.” And in a way, you’re right—but isn’t that the whole point of advertising? To find a way to grab your attention?
You can do that with a striking image that taps into a trending topic, by breaking a pattern, or by challenging a belief or a bias. Provocation has long been one of advertisers’ favorite tools for delivering a message.
So what does Davy Crockett have to do with Sydney Sweeney’s jeans? Let’s set that aside for a moment and think about the reasons behind the controversy that, in recent days, has drawn in journalists, podcasters, influencers, and bloggers.
Does it really make sense for any advertisement to promote Nazism? I don’t think so. Nazism doesn’t sell, and I’m convinced that no sane person would ever consider using eugenics to market a mass-consumption product like jeans.
But is the pun in the American Eagle ad—the play on genes and jeans—just an innocent way to highlight Sydney Sweeney’s beauty? I don’t think so either. The purpose of advertising is to grab attention, and what better way to do that than to spark a juicy controversy between fanatics?
The American Eagle ad aims to signal a break from an established paradigm—and it does so deliberately, through provocation. I don’t think, however, that anyone had anticipated the scale of the debate it ended up triggering.
Listening to the arguments behind the controversy, I get the feeling that far too many people think they’re bigger than their own britches. Whether it’s those who see the ad as some kind of liberation of white people from the oppression of a woke conspiracy, or those accusing Sydney Sweeney of promoting Nazi propaganda, both sides are trying to cast themselves as liberators, as defenders of freedom.
In reality, both camps share the same unpleasant sense of victimhood, the same aggressive language, and the same barely concealed desire to personally discredit anyone who disagrees with them. The spokespeople on both sides seem to believe they’ve been called to defend humanity against an imminent threat poised to destroy democracy.
What would Davy Crockett think about the hidden threat behind a jeans ad? I believe he’d think that public debate has seriously deteriorated, and that the populists who try to exploit raw emotion are simply too loud. I think he’d say it’s our fault—that we feed our own narcissism by seeking out bizarre commentators with deranged opinions, always ready to politicize everything.
I also believe he’d advise you to read my book:
Zombies of Marx: The Return of Practical Reason.
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