Thanks, Obama: My Hopey, Changey White House Years

by David Litt

It was only once we arrived in the briefing room that I understood why POTUS might feel deflated. On television, presidents at press conferences appear larger than life. In person they look like goldfish in a bowl. The James S. Brady Press Briefing Room—which holds forty-nine seated reporters—is only slightly bigger than your average American garage. The stage has all the height and majesty of a shipping pallet. President Obama wasn’t commanding his audience. He was surrounded by it. Before I continue, I should clarify something: I don’t think most members of the traditional White House press corps are biased toward a political party. That said, they are definitely out to get the president. It’s only natural. Every reporter wants to be Woodward and Bernstein. Setting their sights on anyone but POTUS would be like Captain Ahab chasing a guppy across the high seas. Along with this common dream—uncovering the next Watergate—reporters share a tendency to herd like wildebeests around a single dramatic arc. “What’s the story here?” they ask, as though narratives are distant planets to be discovered rather than frameworks they create. As a consumer of news, I empathize. I count on journalists to help me decide what matters and what does not. But the danger arises when facts start to fit the narrative and not the other way around. Combine reporters’ desire to congeal around a story line with their innate distrust of the powerful, and a presidential comeback is hard to stage. Still...