Photo via Wikimedia Commons
There’s a quote by Voltaire circulating on social media. “Anyone who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities.” This is the legacy of the extremist radio propagandist Rush Limbaugh. His beat was resentment, cruel bigotry, hate, misogyny, homophobia and racism. He is no doubt in great part responsible for the nation’s ever-increasing hate crime rate. In 2020, an FBI report cited that rate rising to its highest level in a decade. Of the over 7000 cited hate crimes, nearly 17% were based on sexual orientation.
Among the outrages Limbaugh bellowed against LGBTQs was his celebratory “AIDS Update” segment that mocked those who died of AIDS. A recent social media commentary made by a friend recalled his hearing that segment. Thirteen years old and grappling with his sexuality at the time, he described his trauma and the profound psychological impact made on him at the time by that denigrating dismissal of his identity.
Meanwhile, there were Limbaugh’s assaults on diversity, on marriage equality and most recently, his rants about a public show of affection between then presidential candidate, Pete Buttigieg and his spouse, Chad.
Relentless Message of Hate
For the non-listener, these incidents may seem ugly and hateful but in the grander scheme of things, benign. That would be a false assumption. Repeatedly heard by millions, these relentless messages of hate, outright lies, and personal attacks on groups and individuals validated, manipulated and amplified the grievance of the right and directed it towards the scapegoats. We will never know or appreciate the scale and scope of the damage done to anyone who was targeted not only by the words themselves but by those who listened, took those words to heart and acted upon them.
On rare occasion, when the backlash to Limbaugh’s hate speech exceeded mere complaint and raised questions among sponsors, he apologized. Like any Republican insult, if it reaches the point of requiring contrition, the reaction is made under duress, not a change of heart or epiphany. The damage is done. Those who heard those outrages and nodded their heads in agreement understood the pro forma apology as just part of the act.
Meanwhile, funny thing, Limbaugh, a smoker, after insisting smoking did not cause lung cancer, died of lung cancer.
Robin Vos’ Hero
For the most part, those who are eulogizing the man are those whose own power and influence were buttressed by this spout of incendiary propaganda. Florida’s Governor DeSantis has ordered the state’s flags flown at half-mast in Limbaugh’s honor. Locally, Wisconsin State Assembly Speaker, popcorn magnate Robin J. Vos, proposed the same thing. Missouri Republicans have called for a state recognized Rush Limbaugh Day holiday.
Among my LGBTQ social media friends, the reaction to Limbaugh’s hike to Hades has been mostly along the lines of “he wasn’t very nice but I won’t speak ill of the dead.” It’s not surprising actually. That sentiment is an old school wishful moral high ground that pretends that death somehow expunges sin and we can all move on. It’s also safer to think Limbaugh’s death somehow portends a respite. It doesn’t. Limbaugh, a former opioid addict, knew about addiction and got his listeners hooked. They will continue to need their fix of hate.
Remember the Rwanda genocide or the Holocaust? Both were in part driven by the voice on the radio. Rwanda’s Felicien Kabuga directed Hutus to massacre Tutsis, broadcasting their names and locations. Joseph Goebbels cultivated the German people to accept and enable the Nazi extermination of Jews, Roma, gays and other undesirables.
Hate for Profit’s Sake
I am not going to pretend to be kind and respect the death of a hatemongering bigot who peddled hate for profit’s sake. I also won’t entertain the “hate the sin, love the sinner” nonsense of mock Christians, nor will I indulge the lofty “we’re better than that” moral rationalization of eschewing a sense of satisfaction in the man’s demise. So, please spare me the sentimentality of “yes, buts.”
In fact, celebrating the worldly exit of wickedness has precedent. Upon the death of the Wicked Witch of the West, Munchkin City, in the County of the Land of Oz, threw a parade for the occasion accompanied by a spritely march and memorable, merrily intoned ditty (which I hope remains in your head for the remainder of the day). The munchkin municipality’s coroner declared, replete with musical flourish, the wicked witch “is not only merely dead, but really most sincerely dead.”
Or, to paraphrase Bette Davis’ alleged remarks upon hearing about the death of Joan Crawford, “You should never say bad things about the dead, only good. Rush Limbaugh is dead. Good.”
