“Doing the Work” Through Mockumentary: A Rhetoric of Irony in Daily Wire’s Am I Racist?

Abstract

In 2024, the conservative media outlet Daily Wire produced a documentary film entitled Am I Racist? Created by political commentator and author Matt Walsh and director Justin Folk, the film became one of the highest-grossing documentaries of the last decade. Unlike traditional documentaries, Walsh employs a rhetoric of irony against anti-racist adherents to obstruct their influence and inoculate mostly conservative viewers. His method, however, is unusual and even questionable in conservative Christian circles. The film is analyzed using a Bakhtinian analysis of dialogic opposition wherein Walsh embodies three ironic characters—Rogue, Fool, and Clown—in order to expose the monologue of anti-racism. The analysis demonstrates the dialogization of the anti-racist monologue through rhetorical enactments of anacrisis and syncrisis. Through juxtapositions of anti-racist ideologists and their everyday racist opponents, Walsh obstructs the future effectiveness of the ideology. Even more, by becoming a DEI expert himself, he performatively distorts the monologue to victimize opponents and entertain viewers through the public spectacle. Ultimately, Am I Racist? demonstrates a unique modern turn and strategy in conservative and, more importantly, Christian rhetorical strategies that needs more attention in the future.

1. Introduction

In A Conservative Walks into a Bar: The Politics of Political Humor, Dagnes argues that there is good reason as to why the political left has historically dominated political satire and humor in the United States. Following her research, she concludes that the varying philosophies between Democrats and Republicans are the major reason, namely that conservatives aim at conserving while progressives seek to progress. From this perspective, Dagnes concludes that conservatives are doomed to fail at political humor when stating, “Satire aims at questioning the power structure—so why would conservatives want to do that? The short answer is, they don’t” (Dagnes 2012, p. xiv). But, is reality this static? Can conservatives ever question power structures utilizing effective irony and satire? According to Hutcheon, the sharp edge of irony is, in fact, eligible to be used by any side because its “transideological identity” spans the political spectrum (Hutcheon 2003, p. 34). Thus, when conservatives are caught in the act of wielding irony and satire to question power structures, per Dagnes, a unique angle of political humor is taking place.

In The Authoritarian Moment, Ben Shapiro contends that authoritarianism, like irony, is also transideological, meaning that both the political Left and Right are tempted toward authoritarianism. Current conversations over the FCC and hate speech showcase the tempting power of authoritarianism even among conservatives who showcase their willingness to use governmental entities to quash political dissent. Shapiro, however, maintains that the Left demonstrated in recent years, specifically 2020–2024, a failure to hold its more radical constituents at bay. He reasons this was most clearly seen in the cultural authoritarianism in the lead up to the presidential election of Joe Biden and the proceeding years of the administration. George Floyd’s death, while in the care of law enforcement, was met with civil and political unrest. Even after several protests turned into riots, both public figures and politicians urged donations to bail out those arrested because of the perceived just ends (Kaminsky 2024). Similarly, left-leaning establishment media members downplayed the riots (Concha 2020). The fight, however, went beyond the public to private companies through DEI initiatives. Hollywood studios and corporations like NBC Universal, issued a new emphasis on diversity to stand in unity with those in the protests. Netflix pledged $10 million to Black community initiatives (Guzman 2020, para. 7). Target expressed its commitment to equity by pledging $10 million to the National Urban League and the African American Leadership Forum (Norfleet 2020). However, something else was occurring with this shift. Dissenting voices were met with cancellation. The #AllLivesMatter was rejected and, in several cases, even led to the firing of employees (Canales 2020). For instance, Grant Napear, a former Sacramento Kings Broadcaster, was fired from his radio show after posting, “ALL LIVES MATTER … EVERY SINGLE ONE!!!” (Bernstein 2025, para. 4).

The breadth of acceptable political ideas, or the overton window, had contracted dramatically which was seen clearest in Harper Magazine’s “A Letter on Justice and Open Debate” wherein even left-of-center public figures expressed concern against what they described as “…an intolerance of opposing views, a vogue for public shaming and ostracism, and the tendency to dissolve complex policy issues in a blinding moral certainty.” (Harper’s Magazine 2020, para. 2). Even the counter letter which characterized opponents as “white, wealthy, and endowed with massive platforms” was deaf to the critique (The Objective 2020, para. 2–3). By July 2020, the Cato Institute uncovered that 3 out of 5 Americans were self-censoring (Cato Institute 2020, para. 1). Again, history has demonstrated that authoritarianism is transideological, meaning that both sides are able to be coopted. Whereas the current research is not concerned with the validity of anti-racist claims, the discursive dominance of the ideology during 2020–2024 is important to the state of public discourse as well as the role of dialogic opposition seen in this case by conservative media outlet The Daily Wire.

In Woke Racism, McWhorter claims that Americans are living through a new wave of antiracism since the 2010s. Whereas First Wave Antiracism fought and abolished slavery, Second Wave Antiracism protested segregation, Jim Crow, and, broadly speaking, social prejudice towards African Americans. To McWhorter, Third Wave Antiracism has morphed into an entirely different form than its predecessors. He writes,

Third Wave Antiracism, becoming mainstream in the 2010s, teaches that because racism is baked into the structure of society, whites’ ‘complicity’ in living within it constitutes racism itself, while for black people, grappling with the racism surrounding them is the totality of experience and must condition exquisite sensitivity toward them, including a suspension of standards of achievement and conduct.

(McWhorter 2021, p. 5)

Such a totalizing ideology, he argues, is nothing less than a religion based on race.

Asen disagrees, noting that anti-woke publics use the bogeyman of critical race theory to misrepresent anti-racist advocates (Asen 2024). Furthermore, at The New Republic, Pareene maintains that recent debates on CRT are merely a guise for “moral panic” by conservatives (Pareene 2021). The problem with these characterizations, critics argue, is that they are downplaying a true representation of these ideologies as they are in their purest form. Take for example Robin DiAngelo’s White Fragility, which John McWhorter synthesizes as sandbox logic: “You’re a racist, and if you say you aren’t, it just proves that you are…” (McWhorter 2021, p. 31) To Walsh and other conservatives, such discourse is not only religious in nature but authoritarian (Knight 2022, 2025).

When such hierarchical, elite discourses rigidify, Mikhail Bakhtin posits that carnivalesque characters arise to mock and parody its seriousness. Following Floyd’s death, the ideology of antiracism developed, expanded, and rigidified even during the Biden administration. Even more significant, Kamala Harris’s emergence as the democratic presidential nominee was, to many conservatives, symbolic of anti-racism’s power. However, the world has since turned upside down. Matt Walsh and The Daily Wire challenged the anti-racist ideology through the production of a documentary film entitled “Am I Racist?” Whereas the film was only set to show in 200 theatres, fans led the charge in making it available nationwide and grossing over more than $12 million. (Matt Walsh 2024a) Unlike previous Daily Wire documentaries, this film takes a satirical turn as filmmaker Matt Walsh and director Justin Folk utilize the mockumentary subgenre, a political weapon of progressives until recently. One week before the 2024 presidential election, Walsh, a Roman Catholic, shared that he realized why God had him create the film, which was namely to expose the dangerous nature of the anti-racist ideology. Interestingly, irony was the tool of choice: “It’s an evil that not only deserves to be mocked but must be mocked ruthlessly and mercilessly as we do in the film.” In Church of Cowards, Walsh argues that the American church has become too complacent to affect culture. Referencing the 2018 Met Gala, which openly mocked Catholicism, despite Cardinal Dolan’s attendance and embrace of the festivities, Walsh posits, “Christian culture and secular culture cannot merge into one. It is a zero-sum game.” (Walsh 2020, p. 130). From this perspective, he argues that Christian leaders must strengthen their resolve against secular culture due to its open mockery and intention to undermine her values. Through a rhetoric of irony, Walsh shows such resolve by treating opponents as those who “shall hear and not understand” through the film (Kaveny 2006, p. 579). By doing so, Kaveny argues “one can, however, create distance for oneself—and for one’s audience…” (Kaveny 2006, p. 579).

However, other Christian figures saw Walsh as going too far, specifically through his deceptive means. For example, Andrew Walker, a Christian ethicist, posted on X with mixed emotions: “I just saw [Matt Walsh’s] ‘Am I Racist?’ […] Walsh is right to capture and name the absurdity. The method to do so is highly questionable.” (Forge and Anvil 2024). On The Bully Pulpit Podcast, Walker later shared that, although he is a subscriber of Daily Wire, he considers the film’s tactics to be utilitarian and thus morally complacent with “doing evil so that good may abound.” Walsh responded to critics, like Walker and others, by noting how he was attacking a great evil with numerous victims in its path. Thus, his actions can also be seen as an effort to inoculate viewers from future victimization: “[…] They are not victims. But they do have many victims of their own—all the people who fall into the toxic, evil ideology they espouse. […] The real dividing line is between those of us who are willing to do what it takes to win the culture war and those of us who are not.” (Matt Walsh 2024b) In what follows, I analyze Walsh’s recent production of Am I Racist? as a rhetoric of irony against anti-racist adherents. Using a Bakhtinian lens of dialogic opposition, I discover Walsh’s efforts to dialogize the authoritarian voice of anti-racism and, as a result, inoculate viewers through the public spectacle.

2. Bakhtin, the Rogue, and Socrates: Monologue and Dialogic Opposition

Mikhail Bakhtin, a Russian literary theorist and philosopher, is known for developing his “philosophy of discourse” from the history of novels. Bakhtin lived in Russia during the reign of Joseph Stalin, which “had a major influence on the conceptual framework he evolved.” (Aggarwal 2015, p. 88). Thus, his work is an analysis of classic authoritarianism, which communicatively seeks to gain assent while actively crushing dissent through a monologue, or a single authoritative voice. Heteroglossia depicts a complex world in which various discursive communities exist both connected and separate from one another through language, power, and time, which, Holquist contends, is “a master trope at the heart of all his other projects…” (Bakhtin 1981, p. xix). At the core of heteroglossia is dialogue, which Haskins and Zappen maintain, “insists upon responsiveness to the other and the other’s discourse”, allowing an openness to being challenged and even changed by other representations (Haskins and Zappen 2010, p. 331). The presence of monologue, however, undercuts the pursuit of truth found in dialogue because, as Bakhtin argues, the “official monologism… pretends to possess a ready-made truth…” (Bakhtin 1984, p. 110). As such, people are treated as objects rather than conscious beings. For example, in an analysis of Soviet Russian posters, Haskins and Zappen demonstrate how visual monologic strategies were used by the socialist state. “These posters reveal the tension between the authoritative word of the Soviet state and its efforts to render this word internally persuasive to the masses of people, whose ideological struggles it sought to neutralize by presenting the authoritative word as the one and only word…” (Haskins and Zappen 2010, p. 341). Dialogue, to Bakhtin, penetrates even to the inner-thought life of individuals in what he identifies as “microdialogue.” Speaking of a character’s “dialogized interior monologue” in Dostoyevsky’s novel, Bakhtin argues Raskolnikov is “a splendid model” because “all words in it are double-voiced, and in each of them a conflict of voices takes place” (Bakhtin 1984, p. 74). The “internally persuasive discourses,” however, are contrasted with the external authoritative voice. Whereas the internal word is dialogically adopted as ideas are tested and contested, the authoritative voice “forces itself upon us from without…” (Haskins and Zappen 2010, p. 332). Thus, as Haskins and Zappen contend, an individual can be seen as the “site of ideological struggle, as various discourses battle within us…” (Haskins and Zappen 2010, p. 333).

In The Dialogical Imagination, Bakhtin points to several unruly and carnivalistic characters who emerge as dialogical opposition to the authoritative word, or “the languages of all who hold power and who are well set up in life” (Bakhtin 1981, p. 401). This double-voiced opposition is demonstrated through the power of laughter incarnated through three ironic characters: the rogue, the fool, and the clown. In fact, Coates argues that, through his works, Bakhtin links laughter and love to New Testament atonement as the means to counteract hierarchical rigidification of language (Coates 1999). For example, the rogue is a member of folk culture who seeks to “parodically reprocess” the language of the elite because it is merely “a gay and intelligent deception” (Bakhtin 1981, p. 401). Williams notes that the rogue, unlike the other characters, has a close connection to the author and the audience. The fool is often depicted through an immature childishness, or as Bakhtin describes, “the naivete of a simpleton” (Bakhtin 1981, p. 402). Through the fool’s faulty understanding, he is said to disassociate or “make strange” the lofty ideology being targeted. The fool’s “stupidity”, therefore, is polemical to decrown the elites. Lastly, the clown, unlike the fool, is of the privileged class, which allows him “the right to speak” and, as such, he has the right to “distort” the authoritative word (Bakhtin 1981, p. 405). Through the carnival, Bakhtin notes the importance of the “Crowning/decrowning” ritual, which symbolizes “the creative power of the shift-and-renewal, the joyful relativity of all structure and order, of all authority and all (hierarchical) position” (Bakhtin 1984, p. 124). In other words, the decrowning of the elites, which requires the crowning of the fool, or mock king, signals the “abolition of all distance” between people and a return to carnivalistic dialogue, or “the dialogic nature of thought” (Bakhtin 1984, p. 132). Bakhtin’s carnival has, in recent years, come to life through the spectacle of film wherein ironic characters, or rogues, enact creative rhetorical invention to expose and critique (Williams 2015, p. 122).

In The Rebirth of Dialogue, Zappen notes that Bakhtin’s study of Socrates can add deeply to contemporary discussions of dialogue and rhetoric. Whereas Bakhtin’s writings indicate his uncertainty about rhetoric proper due to the discipline’s formalization, his analysis of Socrates’ elenctic strategy merges to dialogize rhetoric. In Problems of Dostoyevsky, Bakhtin clarifies the evolution of Socrates in the dialogues. His earlier method was dialogical and carnivalistic; however, the later dialogues ossify into monologue, or a type of catechesis (Bakhtin 1984, p. 110). Using elenchos, or argumentative dialogue, Socrates “aims at improving the interlocutor through a process of purification that is capable of changing his whole existence…” (Candiotto 2015, p. 235). The aim of the elenchos is to create aporia, or “a mental state of perplexity and being at a loss…” which induces shame due to its public nature (Candiotto 2015, p. 236). A rejection and/or concealment of shame by the interlocutor, Candiotto contends, compromises their ethos through an “unwillingness to admit their errors” (Candiotto 2015, p. 238). Bakhtin finds two elenctic strategies—anacrisis and syncrisis—Socrates used to dialogize rhetoric. He posits that anacrisis is “the provocation of the word by the word” by which Socrates would press others to share their inadequate ideas and thus be exposed. Similarly, syncrisis is described as the juxtaposition of various discourses and ideas. Together these figures “dialogize thought…and carry it into the open” so that it can be shared publicly and remain in and through each other’s utterances. Bakhtin’s Socrates, Zappen concludes, sought to “[test] and [contest] not only individuals, their ideas and their persons, but also their most deeply held cultural convictions, in particular their unreflective commitments…” (Zappen 2004, p. 14). Even more, Candiotto argues that the elenchus is extended to the public, externalizing both the cognitive and emotional discoveries of the aporetic state (Candiotto 2015). From this perspective, Zappen sees Bakhtin as perceptively discovering in Socrates how to “reconnect[sic] dialogue to the rhetorical tradition” specifically “by introducing the voices of others into rhetorical discourse, by showing how these voices test and contest and create or re-create ideas tacitly and unreflectively held to be true… (Zappen 2004, p. 14). Powers Zryd notes how modern documentarians often utilize the Socratic elenchos between the eiron, or ironist, and the alazon, or hypocrite. (Zryd 1999, p. 278).

3. The Rhetorics of Documentary and Mockumentary

Over the last few decades, major concern among film critics has grown regarding the documentary’s perceived framing of reality. The problem, of course, is the framing of objectivity and authority in the documentary, which is perceived by the audience to be reality when, in fact, it is only a representation. Adding to this perspective, Spence and Navarro note that, despite the realism experienced, documentaries are mere representations by which they mean “presenting anew that which is no longer present” (Spence and Navarro 2011, p. 14). In other words, they argue, the re-presentation within the documentary is iconic in that a resemblance is offered. From a Bakhtinian perspective, the traditional documentary with its serious nature and focus on expertise is monologic in that it becomes the final word. A shift, however, was seen in recent years to the self-reflexive genre. As such, a new emphasis is placed on the documentary as a text, thereby encouraging “epistemological doubt” about the reality being represented (Nichols n.d., p. 61). Nichols even praises the self-reflexive genre in that it directly “addresses the question of how we talk about the historical world” (Nichols n.d., p. 57). From a Bakhtinian perspective, the transition from the monologic documentary to the self-reflexive format should be viewed as a trend toward a more dialogic form.

In Representing Reality: Issues and Concepts in Documentary, Nichols discusses the rhetoric of documentaries through Aristotle using ethos, logos, and pathos. Terrill, however, argues that Nichols’ perspective is lacking and thus “cannot account for the potential of rhetoric to call an audience to judgement and action” (Terrill 2008, p. 135). Adding to the discussion, he suggests that rhetorical research should move beyond mere “observation” and instead to how the documentary “instructs its audience in modes of participation and performance within the ‘real’ world that is indexed by the projection” (Terrill 2008, p. 135). Gaines maintains that the decision to produce a documentary is itself a rhetorical choice. Strategically, documentaries “often make their appeal to the senses through the senses…” which works to “align the viewer emotionally with a struggle that continues beyond the frame and into his or her real historical present” (Gaines 1999, pp. 92–93). She thus seeks to rehabilitate mimesis to demonstrate the rhetorical relationship between documentary and media activism. To Gaines, mimesis is the interrelationship of documentary characters and their effects on viewers. “Actualized, it is a relationship between bodies in two locations—on the screen and in the audience—and it is the starting point for the consideration of what the one body makes the other do” (Gaines 1999, p. 90). For audience members, they are eligible to “body back” because they have a “capacity to respond to and engage in sensuous struggle, in the visceral pleasure of political mimesis.” Uniquely, even in the documentary format, the Socratic elenchus, Candiotto asserts, “is ‘extended’ in the public environment” which should create an enhanced “generation of shame” to on-screen interlocutors (Candiotto 2015, p. 244).

Documentarian and political activist Michael Moore is known for popularizing “the satiric polemic” (Day 2011, p. 101). Throughout his films, Moore was the main protagonist seeking “to undermine the power of the dominant narrative…” and create identification with audience members enjoying the spectacle. From his work, a new subgenre called the mockumentary was coming to political prominence. Day, in Satire and Dissent, labels the new form as satiric documentaries which, unlike the traditional form, tend to centralize “the filmmaker’s own personal quest, tracking his interactions and explorations” (Day 2011, p. 99). Csönge suggests that mockumentaries were created to question the objectivity of the documentary. For example, he says they “are at the same time parodies (mocking the genre of documentary and media in general) and satires (mocking an idea, an ideology, or a political system)” (Csönge 2023, p. 158). In other words, the mockumentary came into existence to question and critique not only monological mediums like the documentary but also ideologies that seek to dominate the public sphere. Satiric dissent and opposition occur, Day argues, when marginal voices seek “to strip down and build back up, to shame and to inspire.”1

The mockumentary’s content is ironic, showcasing the power of satire and parody as filmmakers target powerful corporations, corrupt politicians, and other forms of elitism. Some recent examples include: The Yes Men (2003), Borat! (2006), and The Ambassador (2011) (Jacobsen 2021). Each of these examples, Jacobsen maintains, use “fictionality as a rhetorical strategy” through the creation of pseudo-characters who interact in non-fictional contexts (Jacobsen 2021, p. 4). For example, in The Ambassador, Mads Brugger, a Danish documentarist, travels to the Central African Republic as a foreign diplomat named Monsieur Cortzen. As Jacobsen asserts, Brugger does not merely act, but rather “he himself becomes a fake diamond-smuggling diplomat” (Jacobsen 2021, p. 9). Day demonstrates that, in many cases like Brugger, identity nabbing is used “to appear in public as exaggerated caricatures of their opponents…” which can help garner power and even entry to a closed community and internal conversations (Day 2011, pp. 146–47). Thus, Day’s point is apt in that such an act “sets up a unique relationship between activists and audiences” wherein “they must take part in the co-participatory construction of the event” (Day 2011, p. 166). Kaufer similarly notes that rhetorical uses of irony as an “epideictic strategy” can “bind group identity” especially by “victimiz[ing] outgroups’ positions” (Kaufer 1977, p. 100). These rhetorical forms of “inventiveness” allow for unique analyses of communicative action as fictionality and non-fictional worlds collide in what Jacobsen calls, “unruly artivism” (Jacobsen 2021, p. 20). At the same time, such actions of deception are seen as “ethically disturbing” and, therefore, a questionable Christian tactic even if to expose a great evil (Jacobsen 2021, p. 21). However, other Christian thinkers disagree. For instance, Guinness contends that this action—“fool making”—is “deeply natural to the Christian faith…” and can be discovered in the rhetorical works of historic Christian figures, like Erasmus’s The Praise of Folly (Guinness 2015, p. 74). Ultimately, the mockumentary has proven itself as a powerful political tool through its ironic opposition “that can display problems in society that would be otherwise inaccessible to traditional journalistic practices” (Jacobsen 2021, p. 20). From this perspective, the mockumentary subgenre strongly correlates to Bakhtin’s carnivalesque, wherein an authoritarian voice is dialogically opposed. Even more, such strategies describe Daily Wire’s recent film, Am I Racist?

4. The Daily Wire and Dialogic Opposition

The creation of Daily Wire in 2015 by Ben Shapiro and Jeremy Boreing was a direct response to the perceived dominance of progressive liberal influence in media, entertainment, and politics. They, in fact, claim the title of a “counter-cultural outlet for news, opinion, and entertainment” (DailyWire+ 2025, para. 1). In a Daily Wire advertisement, Shapiro argues they represent a movement of conservative voices standing up to liberal ideologies: “We saw the Left dominate every institution—media, education, Hollywood—and we refused to stand by and do nothing” (Shapiro 2025). As a result of the last decade, the Daily Wire has radically altered the debate. Having been influenced by Andrew Breitbart, Shapiro believes “culture is upstream of politics” which has led Daily Wire to create entertaining films and even kid shows through their platforms DailyWire+ and BentKey.2 They use various culture jamming3 tactics, or “using the media as a means to critique the media,” to have greater cultural reach and ultimately transform the political discussion (Day 2011, p. 159). In one of their more poignant actions, they uncancelled Gina Carano, a previous actor in The Mandalorian, and even offered her a part and role as producer in a film production.4 Elsewhere, Matt Walsh published a satirical children’s book on transgenderism called Johnny the Walrus, which became #1 on Amazon’s LGBTQ+ bestsellers list in 2021. And lastly, Shapiro, alongside rapper Tom MacDonald, had the #1 song in the country called “Facts” in 2024. As evident from the growth of the Daily Wire’s podcasts, published works, and even films, they have a unique cultural effect unlike conservative counterparts in modern history.

Following the emergence of antiracism’s authoritarian dominance, Daily Wire members were hard at work countering the social and political effects of the movement. In 2021, Shapiro argues that fear of the woke mob led to media members, Hollywood, and even corporations altering their industries. From seemingly inconsequential public actions like cancelling the show Cops to corporations requiring diversity training, he argues these actions did not reflect an authentic belief. Instead, shareholders fearful of cancellation were coerced by stakeholders. As a result, culture underwent a “renormalization” due to the demands of an authoritarian minority. He concludes, “We are told by our New Ruling Class that worrying about culture is a sign of puritanism. Meanwhile, they practice witch burning, insist that failure to abide by certain woke standards amounts to heresy, and use culture as a propaganda tool for their ideology and philosophy, renormalizing our entertainment in order to renormalize us.” (Shapiro 2021, p. 161).

Questioning the Left’s Monologue: Transgenderism and Anti-Racism

In 2022, Matt Walsh and the Daily Wire took on the Left’s authoritarianism by challenging transgenderism in the documentary What is a Woman? Through this film, they shifted the cultural debate through a creative elenctic strategy. A writer from The Postmillennial argues that Walsh’s rhetorical style was not overbearing as in many debates about contentious political topics. Rather, “not with hammer blows or a hard push, but with simple questions…” he simply called the experts to account for the ideology (The Post Millennial 2022, para. 4). The rhetorical effect was felt directly in the political conversation and even became a shibboleth for conservatives. For example, when appointed to the Supreme Court by President Joe Biden, Ketanji Brown Jackson was asked by Marsha Blackburn, a senator from Tennessee, “Can you define a ‘woman’?” To which Judge Jackson responded: “I’m not a biologist. I’m a judge’” (Kruta 2022). The Daily Wire, in fact, recently touted the Supreme Court’s ruling to uphold Tennessee’s law against transgender surgeries for minors (Liptak 2025). Despite seeing success, Walsh and team continue to fight.

In their newest film, Walsh goes undercover to expose the left-wing racial ideology of antiracism. Unlike the previous documentary, Matt Walsh uncovers the radical beliefs and ideas held by antiracist adherents through the creation of a pseudo-character. Even before the film was in theatres, Walsh crashed the Democratic National Convention in what was described as a “White Dudes for Kamala Harris” disguise (Potter 2024). The next month, Walsh was a guest on ABC’s Good Morning Utah sharing about Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion. Hilariously, promoting an upcoming seminar entitled, the “Do the Work! Workshop”, the live interview shows Walsh leading hosts in an activity to decenter their whiteness. With arms raised, he says, “You’re stretching up like this, and you’re stretching out. And what you’re doing is you’re stretching out of your whiteness” (02:30). In a commentary of the film, director Justin Folk argues the hosts’ willingness to follow Walsh’s outlandish activity demonstrates the ideology’s authoritative voice: “If it’s DEI and you’re an expert…they have to accept you. They have to listen to what you are going to say (2:47)” (The Daily Wire 2024). When questioned about the film’s deception, Walsh argued that such “methods” are the only way to expose them: “They will never knowingly make themselves vulnerable. So what then? Either we throw up our hands and let them hide behind all of the layers of intellectual protection they’ve set up for themselves, or we use more innovative and maybe even ruthless means to lure or drag them out from behind that wall (Matt Walsh 2024c).”

In what follows, I rhetorically analyze the Daily Wire’s mockumentary Am I Racist? using Bakhtin’s notion of the monologue and dialogical opposition. Throughout the film, Walsh exposes the monologue by “turning [both] persuasive discourses into persons” (Bakhtin 1981, p. 348). Using both traditional documentary interviews with anti-racist experts and spontaneous, impromptu conversations with “White America,” he creates a hilarious spectacle of the Bakhtinian carnival.

5. A Bakhtinian Analysis of Daily Wire’s Am I Racist?

5.1. Matt Walsh as the Site of Ideological Struggle

Appearing in a diner, Walsh contemplates race relations in America. In this scene, viewers become an audience to Walsh’s microdialogue wherein the internal word struggles against the external authoritative monologue. Thus, audience members become part of Walsh’s “sensuous struggle” as the authoritative voice hails him (Gaines 1999, p. 91). Reminiscing on his childhood, Walsh internally says “growing up I never thought much about race” (03:55). Immediately, Sunny Hostin of The View appears on the diner television asserting with certainty, “I think that there is a significant portion…that are racist…” (04:13). Returning to the internal word, Walsh says, “These days, though, we’re told that racial tensions are high. It’s all over the media” (04:20). Again, the external authoritative voice emerges wherein media figures from CBS, MSNBC, and CNN resound in monologic unison that America is inherently racist concluding in the then-vice-presidential nominee Kamala Harris declaring, “We got to do the work” (04:39). As Walsh’s dialogized microdialogue is suppressed internally, this shift is also made manifest when approached by an African American waitress. When asked how he takes his coffee, he cautiously responds “black” followed by racial anxiety: “That was awkward. Should I not have said ‘black’? That’s how I like my coffee. I don’t like cream. Is that so wrong? I don’t think the two should be mixed. Okay, that does sound racist. Wait, am I racist?” (05:14).

“Demanding that [the external authoritative word] be acknowledged,” Walsh yields and thus begins his journey of anti-racism. To start, he must begin reading anti-racist literature to gain knowledge before he can apply the teachings (Bakhtin 1981, p. 342). Once arriving at a bookstore, an employee directs him to the “anti-racism” section and offers a list of “staff recommendations” written by “diverse authors.” Walsh questions her meaning: “What is a diverse person?” (10:46). To viewers, the employee’s response is concrete not even taking into consideration its effect on the interlocutor: “…that would be basically people who aren’t white essentially. … being a white, straight, cisgender person, usually a man, it’s like kind of the top of the pile” (11:15). Realizing his “assigned value” in the discursive community, Walsh finds himself in an inverted racial hierarchy wherein to “do the work” he must commit fully and submit to the teachers of anti-racism. While reading DiAngelo’s White Fragility, the audience is shown how the monologue persists through the pages of anti-racist literature and thus becomes consubstantial with one’s interiorized thoughts: “Anti-Blackness is foundational to our very identities as white people” (12:47). At this point, audience members learn from Walsh’s ideological struggle and thus gain some resistance from the authoritative word and its sources.

5.2. Roguishly Disrupting by “Not Understanding”

With his newfound commitment, Walsh attends a seminar on “White Grief”. The session is led by Breeshia Wade, an antiracist instructor and grief expert who charged $30,000 to host. Like the prior expert interviews, the traditional, serious, documentary format sets up the audience for a monologic frame of reality. The carnival, however, rejects such conventions. The Rogue enters the scene using a pseudonym—Stephen—and wearing a medical mask. Throughout the meeting, he disrupts and interrupts the host by simply “not understanding” the conventions of the monologic context. After brief introductions, Wade states: “It is not possible for us to dismantle a system that has been around for 400 years and has effectively and efficiently destroyed the lives of millions of people” (17:07). Explicitly contradicting her Christian beliefs, she argues love “is not always patient and kind” and kindness is not needed when attempting to dismantle systemic racism (17:34). After participants commit themselves to the black community, Walsh draws ire by foolishly copying others: “My promise to the black community is to be so much better than I have been to them. To be better in so many better ways. To better myself. To better the world. And I know that I haven’t been better. I haven’t been, but I’m going to be. That’s my promise” (19:34).

Assigning further value, Wade tells the White attendees that “the seeds of white supremacy are buried within your subconscious whether or not you realize it…” (20:54). Fearfully responding, Walsh interrupts to ask, “How do we get them out?” (21:16). Exasperated from his interruptions, Walsh continues to violate the norms of the group by immaturely speaking over others, naively committing microaggressions along the way. After being warned by Wade, the group is then asked for bodily reactions to the term: “white people.” While others respond with a “cringe” feeling or “anger”, Walsh is moved and heads toward the “cry room” (24:03). Upon his return, the room has discovered his real identity—the “author image”— revealing him and his roguish deception. “I’ll admit it. I’ll admit it. My name’s not Stephen. Maybe you already knew that. My name is Matt Walsh. I was just here on this journey that I am just starting, but I see that I am not wanted” (26:11). After the police are called to ensure his exit, Walsh questions how to move forward without being detected: “If they know that I am Matt Walsh, I’ll always be an outsider. I need to go deeper undercover. A whole new identity. If I want to be an ally, I need to look like one” (27:25). Following a flashback to What is a Woman?, Walsh dresses up to parody a “tolerant” and “enlightened” progressive donning a nice jacket, tight pants, and a manbun.

5.3. “Fooling” Experts with Anacrisis: Aporia and the Extended Elenchus

According to Bakhtin, “the plot situation of the dialogue is sometimes utilized alongside anacrisis, or the provocation of the word by the word, for the same purpose” (Bakhtin 1984, p. 111). Using his new pseudo-character, the Fool gains entry to test the ideas of anti-racism and the character of its adherents who would otherwise reject him. Even more, he pays each interviewee what they request, showcasing the lucrative nature of the DEI industry. Through these actions, audience members gain access alongside the Fool to become co-participants in the ironic deception to enact anacrisis and, like Socrates, “force people to speak” (Bakhtin 1984, p. 110). As the monologue of anti-racism is brought into the light through anacrisis, viewers see a monologic rejection of aporia, or what Candiotto calls “the key to otherness”, and experience purification from their false certainty.

To begin, he first speaks with expert and author of The Anti-Racist Roadmap, Dr. Kate Slater. After expressing his desire “to do the work,” Dr. Slater says that parents should speak with children about racism “before they can talk.” Walsh foolishly confesses to having never spoken about racism with his 6-month-old but follows up with a conundrum. His daughter loves Moana, but for her to dress as an indigenous person for Halloween would be cultural appropriation—what he calls “The Moana Problem”. Although this strategic juxtaposition, or syncrisis, should create uncertainty for Dr. Slater, who sees her daughter’s desire to only dress as white Disney princesses as racist, she offers an unreflective answer that treats White people as objects. “We think every space belongs to us because we live in a white supremacist society” (07:52). By rejecting aporia, she showcases a lack of humility to the viewers. However, for viewers who see the contradiction and are puzzled by it, Candiotto maintains, experience the “starting point to wisdom” (Candiotto 2015, p. 241). The next interview is with Dr. Sarra Tekola, founder of Black Lives Matter Phoenix, who charged $1500 for an interview. Known for a viral video berating two other Arizona State University students for studying in the multicultural center, Tekola compares “White America” to Nazism. Explaining whiteness, she states: “A lot of it has to do with cognitive dissidence5 which allows white people to feel okay about what happened. … It is this splitting of the self. You have this part of you that knows that they did wrong, the shadow self, and you have to split that…” (34:31). Strategically, Walsh asks if he could say, “Well, I’m not racist. My shadow self is, but I’m not? … I don’t want to merge it, because the shadow self is racist so I don’t want to be merged, right? I want to separate…” (35:34). A flustered Tekola responds, that one must merge the two selves together, which is acknowledging one’s racism. To not merge the selves means one is racist but that he does not acknowledge it. Pretending to experience aporia, he says: “So I got to pull him in. I got to merge him with mine, but then [hesitatingly] make it all not racist” (35:46). Tekola, on the other hand, responds as the possessor of knowledge: “Yeah.”

Finally, he meets Jodi Brown, a victim described as having “stared directly in the face of racism” (54:53). Brown’s two Black daughters were supposedly snubbed by Rosita, the Sesame Street character, which became a national media story. This “Sesame Place victim” required $50,000 to “tell her tragic story” (55:27). However, through questioning, she confesses to not knowing the employee’s race: “Do you know who the employee is that was in the costume” (56:34). Brown replies: “No. … That information was never given to me” (56:37). Rather than evoking the aporetic state, she remains unashamed as if no other conclusion were possible. Viewers, on the other hand, experience purification from her pseudo-certainty. Through his questions, the Fool, while learning of his marginal position in the inverted race hierarchy, acquires the conventional single-minded responses—knowledge—from the experts. To the audience, however, the experts are revealed to be alazonic in that they are over-confident, over-certain, and monologic. As such, the “finalized and deaf” nature of the ideology is exposed. Moving beyond interviews, the Fool stumbles upon a microcosm of a monologic setting.

5.4. Proposing a Toast: Making the Monologue Strange

While watching Dr. Phil, the Fool learns of Regina Jackson and Saira Rao sessions called Race2Dinner. Simultaneously, the Fool offers praise and critique: “Apparently, you just pay these ladies thousands of dollars to come over for dinner and call you racist. It’s genius” (39:32). However, the dinner is only for white women, so Walsh must find another way to attend. The dinner, a clear hierarchical image of the monologic voice, begins with Jackson and Rao dictating the rules. Jackson, for example, shares one rule which is that crying is not allowed at the table. Entering the room as a masked waiter, the Fool begins serving guests as attendees confess any recent racist actions. After a few examples, which Rao identifies as “tone policing”, “white centering”, and “white silence”, the Fool too nods in compliance and affirmation. The conversation quickly turns to the contemporary political climate. Rao even signals their deeper ideological motivations comparing Republicans to Nazis: “This is what anti-racism is. It’s actually what anti-whiteness is” (43:33). Despite their condescension and contempt, the attendees listen intently, imbibing the monologue, while also being irritated by Walsh as he clumsily serves them food and drink.

The moment climaxes with Rao demonstrating contempt: “The entire system has to burn. I’m not looking to save this country. This country is not worth saving. This country is a piece of shit” (43:42). At the same time, Walsh “clumsily” drops a stack of plates to the floor, scaring the guests. The Fool continues bussing while passionately encouraging the hosts, while viewers are alienated by their alazon-like certainty. Eventually, Jackson jokingly acknowledges his presence: “We may have to add you to our team” (44:50). This invitation opens the door for Walsh to awkwardly request to sit down, which is halted by Rao and others. After a few moments of awkward hovering, participants begin questioning him. Nervously, he sits down and says, “You know, I’ve been on this journey for so long, and just to see you guys at the table having this conversation has been really enlightening for me” (46:09). After finally leaving, Jackson refocuses the group only to be interrupted again by the Fool proposing an ironic toast. “Raise a glass, if you’re racist” (46:43). Astonishingly, to the viewers, they all raise their glasses with no sense of shame. Once again, viewers are invited into the aporetic state to even sense shame on their behalf. However, Jackson, the only African American at the table, immediately says, “Oh, I’m not racist. Let me put my glass down [followed by laughing]” (46:49). Her laughing acts to further alienate viewers who are eligible through dialogic opposition to see the racial hypocrisy.

5.5. The Clown as Socratic “Midwife” to Dialogue

Donning his new progressive attire, he sets down to learn from Anti-Oppression instructor, Regan Byrd, after paying $2350. Interspersed with his learnings, Walsh applies for DEI certification on a website for the price of $29.99. Now that he possesses the “knowledge” of anti-racism, the Clown emerges to apply and share all his learnings. Through his public interactions, the Clown enacts syncrisis thereby juxtaposing “their voices both to each other and to the many voices of everyday life…” (Zappen 1996, p. 75). Unlike the Fool, the Clown brings “people together” to make them “collide in a quarrel” so that truth can be born (Bakhtin 1984, p. 110). Even more, the serious style of traditional documentary interviews is removed by a more authentic cinema verite form of interaction, which connotes a shift to freedom by interlocutors in the interactions. As a public spectacle for the viewers, the rhetoric is dialogized and the monologue is distorted.

Hilariously, the clown travels to “White America” in hopes of evangelizing (47:10). After parking his scooter at a bar called “99 Bottles”, he declares overconfidently, “I’m sure these people would love to have an honest dialogue about the perils of whiteness” (47:19). Even the tension created for viewers points to the carnivalistic nature of the scene. Speaking to a biker at the bar, the Clown asks how he is personally decentering his whiteness. Unexpectedly and in Socratic fashion, the biker responds dialectically, “Who is making it the center? Why are they doing that?” (48:01). After the Clown reminds him he is white, the biker expresses that there are higher values than one’s race. More significantly, he declares, people should be proud of who they are: “I think Black men should have pride in being Black. And I think you should have pride in being White” (48:36). The Clown condescendingly responds: “I agree with the first part” (48:38). He then moves on to an older biker named Pat with the same question. Pat responds saying, “I used to have a Black brother. I called him my brother. He called me his brother” (49:11). Again, the Clown condescendingly retorts: “You were calling a black man ‘brother’?” (49:15). Later, Pat declares, “If you treat people right, they treat you right” (51:21). Finally, the Clown meets a couple outside. After the man admits to having family members in the Klan, he asks how he knows that he is not racist. The biker replies: “Because I accept people the way they are” (50:37). Walsh then asks him about his stance on systemic racism. “Systemic? What the hell is that? … You want to do away with racism? Quit labelling people ‘black’ and ‘white’” (51:01). The Clown concludes his evangelistic visit embodying the same deafness to dialogue experienced in the interviews: “I was expecting these bikers would be a bunch of racists. And obviously, I was right” (51:36). The audience, however, sees the ironic spectacle of the Clown and his double voiced opposition. Through the Clown’s personification of the monologic voice, he berates the bikers from “White America” treating them like objects rather than conscious beings. However, through this ideological struggle, the “racist” bikers ironically espouse greater wisdom and virtues than the anti-racist elite and thus find identification with viewers.

The Clown travels even deeper into the “racist South” to hear the “lived experiences” of people of color (51:49). Expecting echoes of anti-racism, viewers are confronted by two pastors and three elderly women. One pastor speaks of his upbringing and how his parents challenged him to never allow someone’s “skin color to ever become a problem” (52:10). Even the elderly women posit a form of colorblindness: “We didn’t see color, baby, because we grew up together. So, there was a lot of love” (52:16). Walsh’s last stop is with a gentleman in front of his auto shop. He arrived in America from British Guyana and started his shop in 1964. Walsh asks, “Do you think the country has been good to you?” (52:40). The expectation, especially considering his arrival occurred during the Civil Rights Movement, is that he too would speak of the racist ills of the country. He instead responds with gratefulness: “Yeah. Yeah, very good. … America, man, is a beautiful country. A beautiful country. I have no problem here” (52:50). When Walsh says the US can be, at times, racist, the man quickly reacts: “No, no, no, no” (53:00). Inquiring of his readings in anti-racist literature, he says he only reads the Bible and even rejects a copy of DiAngelo’s White Fragility. “No. ‘Cause that is not in my heart. … If I cut you right there, you will bleed just like me [Laughing]” (54:18). His laughing, unlike Jackson’s earlier, is indicative of the carnivalesque and dialogization by which he sees through the façade of anti-racism. Even more, his laughter merges with wisdom as he tells the Clown what is needed to move beyond racism: “we have to love each other” (54:29). With no ability to see through the divine eyes of laughter, the Clown responds with a closedness: “Well, it can’t be that simple” (54:35).

5.6. Reparations and “Doing the Work”: The Ritual of Crowning and Decrowning

The Clown ultimately becomes certain of his journey when interviewing (and testing) Robin DiAngelo’s adherence to anti-racism. Near the end of their interview, Ben, the producer of the film, is asked to come and join them because Walsh says that they should “speak directly to a person of color and confront our racism and also apologize for the white supremacist systems that oppress Ben…” (1:13:46). He asks DiAngelo to go first. She says to Ben, “Well, on behalf of myself and my fellow white people, I apologize…” (1:13:55). Walsh follows but with more than words. He asks Ben if he will accept reparations. Ben replies, “I won’t turn it down” (1:14:14). Giving him everything in his wallet, he says, “That doesn’t make up for 400 years of oppression, but it’s all that I have to give” (1:14:37). A bewildered DiAngelo responds: “That was really weird” (1:15:07). By enacting individual reparations, DiAngelo’s character is tested in front of the viewers: “Because I think reparations is like a systemic and dynamic approach…” (1:15:26). The Clown, however, presses her through his “not understanding”: “Are we going to allow ourselves to be uncomfortable and just do what we can personally? Or, are we going to wait for the system to catch up?” (1:15:52). Bound by the authoritarian discourse coopted by the Clown, DiAngelo submits and affirms: “I can go get some cash for sure” (1:16:23). Walking back from her purse, she gives Ben $30 in cash, which is then subtracted on-screen from her $1500 fee. Through this act of carnival, the Clown decrowns DiAngelo and haughtily takes the crown for himself. After having DiAngelo sign his copy of White Fragility, he declares his coronation: “The student has become the teacher. My moment has finally arrived” (1:17:23).

Following his success, the Clown shares with the audience his plan to “show other white people how to do the work and make a little money in the process” (1:17:29). He then shares how he has created his very own DEI online workshop from which he has already earned $3248. Even more, he tells the audience about a new “in-person workshop.” The next few moments show him in interviews on various networks advertising his expertise and, more importantly, his upcoming workshop called the “Do the Work! Workshop”. In fact, they didn’t even ask him for a last name. After being introduced as Matt the DEI Expert, a host asks him “What does it mean to you to do the work?” He replies clownishly: “It’s right there in the name. You know, what is the work? It’s the work that we’re doing” (1:18:37). Through these clownish antics, viewers are shown the hole in the monologic submission given to anti-racist experts.

The workshop begins with the Clown boasting of his DEI credentials and informing his guests of the nine steps that will ultimately transform them into “an anti-racist ally” (1:20:13). The first step challenges members to realize the “lurking” nature of racism. Thus, he tells the attendees to “look around the room and point to who we believe… is the most racist person…” (1:20:36). After a long awkward pause and some attendees leaving, the Clown points to himself. For Step two, a scale with figures ranging from Jussie Smollett to a hooded KKK member is shown. Using magnetized numbers, attendees are challenged to evaluate their own racism. Awkwardly, most participants place numbers on 5 and below, indicating that they are “Not Racist”. Troubled, the Clown shares that the goal of the workshop is about “uncomfortable conversations” and unless they are honest, the healing cannot begin. To help them, he shares first: “I was at a traffic light in my car. I see a Black man, man of color, appears to be walking up to my car. … I check to make sure the doors are locked. … Why did I do that? I thought he might be trying to carjack me” (1:22:39). Pointing to “unconscious bias” the Clown almost makes a monologic point; however, catching them off guard through induction, he distorts it: “Now, in this case, the guy behind me did get carjacked” (1:22:44).

Moving on to step six, the Clown educates attendees on the micro-aggression of “Over-Smiling.” Requesting Ben’s participation, attendees are challenged to look at him “in the least racist way that we know how” (1:23:59). Chastising #2 for not looking at Ben, he replies by saying “it’s kind of awkward to look at someone like they’re a specimen” (1:24:24). The Clown rebukes him through the authoritative word, “It’s not his job as a Black man to make us feel comfortable in this moment” (1:24:30). Step seven is breaking “White Silence.” The Clown again seeking to lead by example invites his uncle Frank to the front. After Ben pushes his uncle, who is wheelchair bound, the Clown reminds Frank of a “joke” made at the dinner table twenty years ago. “You asked the question, what’s the difference between a Mexican man and a picnic table? And the answer was, a picnic table can support a family of five” (1:26:14). Frank laughs weakly. Breaking his own “white silence,” the Clown uses the authoritative word to shame and demand silence from an elderly family member, which juxtaposes the monologue and the dialogue in front of viewers: “You had no right to make that joke! Latinx Americans, they come to this country and they work hard! And your little joke dehumanizes. It is not funny. Uncle Frank, it is not funny to mock marginalized people! It’s not a joke. It’s not funny, Uncle Frank” (1:27:01). He then invites others up to break their White Silence. The Clown calls on #6 because of their “Hispanic descent” to say something. She says, “F*** you” (1:27:30). Attendee #3 joins in: “Yeah, man. F*** you” (1:27:33). Through this activity, viewers are puzzled that others would share in the shaming of the elderly family member and thus ironically identify more with Walsh’s uncle. Ben is then asked to come retrieve Uncle Frank. Bewildering to attendees, the Clown as he is being rolled away, says, “Thanks, Uncle Frank. See you this weekend” (1:28:09).

Finally, they address step nine, beginning with a question: “Are we ready for the healing pain?” (1:28:17). After a picture displaying a white man enduring self-flagellation, the Clown walks out with a box of whips and paddles. After two participants slowly accept items, a few attendees stand up to leave. One says, “Dude, this is ridiculous. I’m out of here. You’re nuts”; while another attendee laughingly agrees “Me too” (1:28:39). It is at this point that the Clown begins to experience aporia, or an “awareness of contradiction”: “Why weren’t they willing to whip themselves? Wait. Why were the people willing to whip themselves? None of this feels right” (1:28:58) (Candiotto 2015, p. 236). With half of the attendees left watching his bewilderment, he informs them the workshop is over. His dialogized interior monologue reemerges: “What have I become? Am I making the world better or am I just profiting on people’s racial guilt? Returning to the streets, the Clown hangs his head in shame humbled by his journey. He even symbolically sheds his crown when removing his man bun—which he gives to a bewildered security guard. Through this act, the mock king and the authoritative word are decrowned signifying “the creative power of the shift-and-renewal” (Bakhtin 1984, p. 124). As such, it is the signaling of the world returning to the carnivalistic dialogue, or “the dialogic nature of thought” and “the abolition of all distance” between people (Bakhtin 1984, p. 132).

6. Discussion and Conclusions

Matt Walsh and members of Daily Wire produced the top-grossing documentary of the last decade by making a spectacle of the anti-racist ideology, even ritualistically decrowning Robin DiAngelo for the world to witness. Walsh, in the guise of the Rogue, Clown, and Fool, turned the world upside down for viewers so that the serious and hierarchical discourse of anti-racism’s monologue was questioned, parodied, and mocked. To viewers, the interviews reveal adherents’ deafness toward any questioning or apparent contradictions of their commitments. As such, the Clown takes his expertise to the everyday carnival-folk, questioning them and enacting syncrisis to juxtapose the earlier monologic voices. From this perspective, Walsh as a pseudo-DEI expert becomes the Socratic “midwife” to dialogue as viewers watch the journey unfold. Lastly, after decrowning Robin DiAngelo by exposing her hypocrisy on reparations, he utilizes tactical distortions to alienate attendees and performatively himself.

Although critics have questioned the ability of conservatives to use humor and satire in an effective way, Am I Racist? demonstrates a new age of political humor. Like irony, authoritarianism is trans-ideological which is to say all sides of the political spectrum are susceptible for being coopted and ossified into a monologue. Nevertheless, Am I racist? demonstrates a unique strengthening in conservative humor and satire as well as an atrophy among progressives. Future researchers would do well to consider other conservative figures and outlets rhetorical strategies of dialogical opposition as a means of cultural resistance. Just as important is the future research on the ethical uses of irony and deceit being employed by Christians in authoritarian contexts. Ultimately, this analysis has shown the importance of multiple voices in society and the need for public dialogue and debate which can quickly and easily disappear if citizens are not vigilant in their efforts. Although this instance showcased the Left’s authoritarian tendency, the Right could just as quickly be possessed by authoritarianism.

Through an analysis of Am I Racist?, Bakhtin’s philosophy of discourse has illuminated the presence of carnivalistic characters who parody the elite’s monologue to disrupt, distort, and dialogize. The final scene of the film, in fact, shows a flattening of the hierarchy through his journey as Walsh appears sitting back at the diner. As the waitress returns to pour his “black” coffee, the authoritarian voice returns. However, this time the voices are from those he met on his journey of “doing the work”. Although the voices are from several different anti-racist figures, it is clearly monologic, ending with a haughty, condescending chuckle. Despite not having an invitation, Walsh stands up to share what he learned from testing and contesting the monologic word of anti-racism.

You know, this experience has really taught me something. The anti-racist industry says that America is racist down to its bones. And if that were true, there wouldn’t be anything we could do about it. White people could only wallow in their guilt, and Black people in their victimhood. But it’s a lie. It’s a lie meant to manipulate us. Look, we’ll never live in a utopia. We all know that. But we don’t have to be held hostage by these race-baiting con artists who want us to be bitter and angry and resentful. They’re selling us the disease. They’re telling us there’s no cure. They don’t say that I’m racist, and you’re a victim, because that’s what they think we are. They tell us that because that’s what they want us to be. Well, it’s time for us to say, ‘no’. (1:34:35)

As he finishes, the racially diverse crowd of onlookers in the diner find hope as they listen, clap, hug, and cry in celebration of this emerging truth—a clear picture of Bakhtin’s festival of joyful relativity. Walsh’s utterance is itself a composite of heteroglossia as the film’s interviews and conversations merge in a dialogical inoculation for viewers, helping them to find resistance against the monologic lie. However, the speech was not external as Walsh comes to. Rather it was internal, showcasing his reclamation of the “internally persuasive word.” For viewers, the onscreen testing and contesting of the authoritative word becomes an “extended elenchus” which they can “body back” by continually resisting the authoritative word through the film’s inoculation. Just as important, Walsh’s refusal to posit an explicit counter ideology is Socratic in nature. By being more concerned about how viewers live rather than following a different ideology (i.e., knowledge), emphasis is placed on the virtues and vices exhibited throughout the film. Through his dialogical opposition, Walsh shows that the folk-community members of the “racist South” are, in fact, more worthy of imitation than the anti-racist elite because they possess the greatest virtue—love.