Mark Steyn is upset at the insufficient attention being paid to the unseemly part of Ted Kennedy’s character. There is something to this, and it’s perhaps more obvious to those of us inclined to see Kennedy as a privileged member of a political dynasty who worked very hard to keep power consolidated in the hands of the political class. But at the same time, I wonder what use there is in moralizing about public mourning.

The public Ted Kennedy is, as Matt Welch says, a political abstraction. He hails from the most famously mythologized family in American culture. People of a certain generation feel connected to this story, the mythos of the self-sacrificing “public servant,” the drama of a dynastic curse. We’re all trained to puncture mythologies, as well we should. On the other hand, mythologies give people permission to share a symbol and a sadness. Maybe there's something valuable in the spectacle of a bunch of strangers sharing a loss, even an idealized loss, with one another. In her wonderful book The Happiness Myth, Jennifer Michael Hecht argues that celebrity funerals ought to be more outlandish, more emotionally climactic, and thus more cathartic for the rest of us. The scolds who would criticize us for picking unfit subjects of mourning—princesses instead of saints—are missing the point. Public expressions of grief are a human constant. They're not rational, but they're meaningful. Save the logical assessments for the thick biographies to come.

I suppose I’ve swerved rather dramatically from Mark Steyn’s stern moral calculus. But then, I’m not sure Steyn will want to apply that same calculus when a Republican dies. Ted Kennedy's one pointless killing was horrific in its intimacy. The pointless deaths for which, say, George W. Bush is partially responsible are horrific in their magnitude. Somehow I do not anticipate a 2030 National Review column bemoaning the lionization of Bush upon his demise.

Photograph of Sen. Ted Kennedy's funeral by Emmanuel Dunand/AFP/Getty Images.

Tags: funerals, Ted Kennedy

Hanna, Jessica, Ted Kennedy did run for the presidency against Jimmy Carter in 1980, eleven years after Chappaquiddick—and he considered and rejected another run in 1984. It used to be that a divorce made someone untenable for the presidency; being openly homosexual would automatically preclude someone from elected office. So in those ways today's mores are much looser about the personal lives of our politicians. But, Jess, I agree it is unimaginable now that anyone responsible for the death of someone else in such a way could even be considered a possible presidential candidate. (It's also interesting to consider whether, if JFK were a politician today, his sex life would have kept him from the White House? Hard to say given that Bill Clinton got elected.)

Ted Kennedy's death truly is the end of this political dynasty—there is no one on the family horizon who is even mentioned as a figure of national political stature (except maybe in-law Arnold Schwarzenegger, who is precluded from the presidency). As you look at the entire family, it seems that the women in it have been able to lead lives without the pathology—the drinking, drugs, sexual scandals—that has dogged the men. I have often wondered if this was because without the insane expectation put on every male Kennedy to be a potential president, the women were much freer to carve out lives that exceeded the assumptions about them, rather than be crushed by them.

Photograph of Ted Kennedy by Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images.

Tags: Chappaquiddick, Edward Kennedy, Mary Jo Kopechne, political scandals, Teddy Kennedy

Hanna, I like your Kopechne-based theory on why Ted Kennedy devoted his Senate years to public service, particularly for the disenfranchised. As the press releases from women's organizations filling up my inbox will have you know, many of Teddy's triumphs were on behalf of our gender: the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act, the Civil Rights Act of 1991, and the Pregnancy Discrimination Act, among many many others.

But no one denies that Chappaquiddick was a truly deplorable incident, and the question percolating around the office is whether or not a modern political career would be able to survive such a public and legal trainwreck. The overwhelming feeling is that it would not, because the current media and social climate would not allow it. While it is true that we have far less trust in our politicians than we did 40 years ago, I think this is less an issue of when than who: No other politician's career would have been able to surive that, even back then. After what that family had been through in the '60s, Teddy had an enormous amount of public good will, particularly in Massachusetts. No non-Kennedy would have been forgiven.

Photograph of a ferry near Chappaquiddick Island by Win McNamee/Getty Images.

Tags: Chappaquiddick, Edward Kennedy, Mary Jo Kopechne, political scandals, Teddy Kennedy

Google Trends this morning is a perfect window into our tabloid culture and the recesses of our depraved minds. While the papers are full of words like “dynasty” and “legacy,” Mary Jo Kopechne, according to Google Hot Trends, is uppermost in our thoughts. Her name comes up as number one in the ranking, and several more places on the list, misspelled. Chappaquiddick shows up high and often, too; once correctly, and then in several illiterate incarnations.

Partly, I blame this discrepancy on the American papers, which are still bent on hagiography. I prefer British obituaries, which tell it like it is. And partly, of course, this is the fault of our vapid tabloid culture. The only surprise today is that Kate Gosselin has been knocked back all the way to number 30. “Michael Jackson alive” is a popular trend. Yeah. Jamming with Elvis.

Finally, there is the issue of the obvious narrative the papers are not stringing together. In my mind, I’ve always equated Ted Kennedy with Chuck Colson, the disgraced Nixon aide who went on to found an admirable Christian organization called “Prison Fellowship.” Public officials who do terrible things and then say they’re sorry (often in a press conference or book) are a dime a dozen. But the ones who do something terrible and then repent indirectly in the form of a lifetime of dedicated public service are rare. Colson and Kennedy are just about the only two I can think of.

Mary Jo Kopechne is on our minds because this narrative about Ted Kennedy makes sense, in some intuitive, appealing way. Kennedy killed a girl. That’s his Rosebud. He made up for it partly by declining the ultimate glory of running for president, and choosing the more humble path—helping the underclass using the slow, steady machinery of the Senate.

Tags: Chappaquiddick, Mary Jo Kopechne, Ted Kennedy