On 30 November 1993, the Aids activist Larry Kramer and Anthony Fauci, director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, were arguing again. They argued a lot back then about the US government’s response, or lack thereof, to the Aids crisis. Fauci asserted institutional legitimacy. Kramer scolded that any institution presiding over a genocide doesn’t have any. Kramer wanted to untie Fauci’s hands from politics and bureaucracy; Fauci wanted to de-escalate Kramer’s vituperous hand-wringing. They also ribbed each other, allies as often as antagonists.
On the night they appeared on C-Span, the buttoned-up not-for-profit cable channel better known for unfettered congressional coverage than for the verbal pyrotechnics of CNN’s Crossfire, or the revelations-as-entertainment approach to politics by Oprah and Donahue. But this night was different. Journalist Steve Scully spent the hour trying to moderate Kramer and Fauci as they attacked and amused each other: he redirected them back to his questions when passions erupted, and kept those questions to centrist concerns of, mostly, money. And in between all this he took he took calls from civilians whose empathy and expertise in Aids, let’s say, ranged wildly. It was an exhausting hour, which settled little. But it showed what just might happen when people yell at each other loudly enough so they can be heard, and also listen.
