Here's to meritocracy!

Practicing journalism is a little like playing the ponies: Everyone thinks they're an expert. Except that they're not. I realize this is hard for many folks to recognize, but journalism, like most professions, takes training, experience and a bit of talent. You just don't do it. So I was happy to see New Yorker writer George Packer lay into Sean Penn's wince-worthy interview of Raúl Castro that managed to land on the cover of The Nation.

Many pages of Castro monologue are transcribed and transmitted to North American readers without interruption (except when “Raúl interrupts himself”), proving that Penn understands the first principle of the good interview: make the subject feel comfortable enough to open up. Good interviewers also know how to analyze the material they work so hard to elicit, and Penn treats his readers to gems such as “Inside, I’m wondering, Have I got a big story to break here? Or is this of little relevance?”

Having set Castro sufficiently at ease for the President to go on for seven hours, Penn then shows that he knows exactly when and how to pounce with the tough question. “The hour was getting late, but I didn’t want to leave without asking Castro about allegations of human-rights violations and alleged narco-trafficking facilitated by the Cuban government.” Castro predictably temporizes, but Penn is relentless, lighting upon the brilliant rebuttal that a country with just one great leader per epoch can’t be entirely democratic. “I consider mentioning this, and perhaps should have, but I’ve got something else on my mind.” Dextrously shifting gears, Penn suddenly asks, “Can we talk about drugs?”—a subtle ploy to get Castro to deliver another uninterrupted discourse on the wrongs of the United States.

Truth be told, I’ve always wanted to be a jazz pianist. A friend of mine always wanted to run a restaurant. So when do we get a chance to make utter fools of ourselves? … You mean we don’t?

Why does someone like Penn think he can do this job, which isn’t his job? Perhaps because he can write down and relay the words of famous people to whom his own fame gives him access, and because certain thoughts pass through his mind while he’s writing them down. Penn’s moonlighting shows a kind of contempt for journalism, which turns out to be rather difficult to do well. It also shows that he’s missed one of the main points of Obama’s election, which has Penn shedding tears at the end of his dispatch. Obama is the splendid fruit of a meritocracy. In a meritocracy, actors who act well get good roles. They don’t get to be journalists, too—a job that, in a meritocracy, should go to those who do journalism well.