James Wigderson, a name that resonates with many in Wisconsin’s political landscape, presents a fascinating study in ideological evolution. For years, he was a stalwart Republican, the editorial voice of “Right Wisconsin,” a publication that championed conservative viewpoints. However, the political currents shifted dramatically, and with the rise of Donald Trump and the subsequent transformation of the Republican Party, Wigderson found himself increasingly alienated. The party he once identified with had mutated into something unrecognizable, something he could no longer, in good conscience, support. This profound ideological chasm ultimately led him to a difficult decision: he shut down “Right Wisconsin.” It was a bold move, an act of intellectual integrity, that spoke volumes about his unwavering commitment to his principles, even when it meant severing ties with a platform he had meticulously built.
Today, Wigderson channels his sharp wit and keen observations into a Substack column, where he offers a refreshing blend of insight and humor. His writing often possesses a whimsical quality, a playful touch that belies the seriousness of the subjects he tackles. In his most recent piece, “It’s a Secret Memo,” Wigderson masterfully dissects a “scoop” by the Journal Sentinel that, to his discerning eye, reeked of political maneuvering. The Journal Sentinel article, penned by Jessie Opoien, breathlessly reported on a purported memo from consultants for Republican gubernatorial candidate Tom Tiffany. This “secret memo” allegedly identified Francesca Hong as the Democratic primary candidate Tiffany’s campaign most feared, even going as far as to declare her the “very probable nominee.” The subject line alone, “We Need To Take Francesca Hong Seriously,” and its implied strategy for countering a candidate who identifies as a democratic socialist, was deemed highly significant by the Journal Sentinel.
Wigderson, however, saw through the thinly veiled attempt at political manipulation with a characteristic flourish of sarcasm. In his column, he quipped, “Only someone stoned on weed would believe that Hong was the candidate most feared by Tiffany or that this memo was real.” He didn’t just question the memo’s veracity; he ridiculed the Journal Sentinel‘s uncritical acceptance of it. Wigderson pointed out the glaring journalistic lapses: Opoien’s failure to even put “leaked” in quotes, let alone provide any credible explanation for how the memo was supposedly leaked. He then launched into a hilarious, Dr. Seuss-esque litany of possibilities, questioning whether it was “from Edward Snowden,” “left on the photocopier,” “on Hunter Biden’s laptop,” or even delivered by “Ian’s Pizza.” His clever rhetorical questions, ranging from “Was it found in a house with a mouse? A box with a fox?” to “Here or there, or anywhere with green eggs and ham?” not only entertained but also brilliantly underscored the absurdity of the Journal Sentinel‘s unquestioning embrace of the “leak.” Wigderson’s central argument was simple yet powerful: the Tiffany campaign, far from fearing Hong, would likely relish the opportunity to run against a candidate from Madison who is a member of the Democratic Socialists of America and recently endorsed by Congresswoman Ilhan Omar. He even suggested, with a knowing wink, that the Tiffany campaign might “make donations to Hong’s campaign to help her win the Democratic nomination in August,” highlighting the strategic advantage they would perceive in such a match-up.
In essence, Wigderson argued that the Journal Sentinel had been expertly played, “snookered” by a piece of disinformation designed to influence Democratic primary voters. The true aim, he contended, was to convince Democrats, whose primary concern was selecting the most viable candidate to defeat Tiffany, that Hong was the one giving Republicans sleepless nights. This, Wigderson implies, was a cynical attempt to elevate Hong’s profile in the Democratic primary, making her appear a stronger contender in the eyes of some voters and perhaps a more appealing opponent for Tiffany. The paper’s eagerness to run with this “scoop” was evident in their decision to publish not one, but two stories on the topic. The first article, he noted, suggested Hong’s campaign was gaining momentum, with the “secret GOP memo” serving as a pivotal piece of evidence. The second, more explicitly titled “What a leaked GOP memo says about the candidacy of Francesca Hong,” further cemented the narrative. Wigderson’s “eye-rolling answer,” as he called it, was likely the shared sentiment of seasoned campaign strategists from both sides of the aisle. They would have recognized the memo for what it was: a transparent, if somewhat effective, piece of political theater.
The purported “secret memo” was not an isolated incident; it was, Wigderson pointed out, merely the latest iteration of the Tiffany campaign’s penchant for crafting “fanciful campaign memes.” He cited another recent example: a breezy ad released just two weeks prior. In this ad, Tiffany presented himself as a quintessential “Wisconsin cliché,” preemptively addressing a hypothetical criticism that Democrats might label him as “too cliché.” He then fondly embraced this identity, rattling off a list of beloved Wisconsin staples: “the Packers, Brewers, Badgers, old fashioneds, everything Wisconsin,” along with a folksy anecdote about growing up milking cows on a dairy farm. Wigderson, meticulous in his analysis, quickly debunked the premise of the ad. He asserted that no Democratic candidate had ever labeled Tiffany a “Wisconsin cliché.” While Democrats had characterized him as an “extremist” and an “election denier,” the closest they came to a similar critique was Democratic Party of Wisconsin spokesperson Emily Stuckey’s description of Tiffany as “a walking, talking cliché of a D.C. politician.”
Wigderson then honed in on a subtle yet telling omission in Tiffany’s carefully constructed image of a “true Wisconsinite”: the absence of the Milwaukee Bucks. He pondered whether this exclusion was deliberate, perhaps signaling a perceived “too urban” association. Regardless of intentionality, this oversight was, in Wigderson’s astute observation, “unintentionally revealing.” It hinted at a narrow, perhaps even exclusionary, definition of Wisconsin identity that might resonate with certain demographics while alienating others. Despite these critical observations, Wigderson acknowledged the effectiveness of the ad itself. He conceded that it was both “amusing and very effective,” delivering a crucial warning to Democrats: “Democrats underestimate Tiffany at their peril.” This concluding sentiment encapsulates Wigderson’s balanced perspective – a willingness to expose political machinations while simultaneously recognizing the potential potency of such tactics. His work consistently reminds readers to look beyond the surface, to question narratives, and to approach political discourse with a healthy dose of skepticism and a discerning eye for the human element behind the spin.