In an early episode of The West Wing, President Jed Bartlet and his chief of staff, Leo McGarry—struggling with what Scott McClellan would later call, after his stint in the real-world version of that corridor, “the permanent campaign culture in Washington”—argue about the relationship between conviction and compromise in presidential politics. The two decide that accomplishing their goals is more important than getting re-elected: they’re going to start being true to their own vision for the country. “Do you have a strategy for all this?” Bartlet asks.

McGarry scrawls his answer on a legal pad: “Let Bartlet Be Bartlet.”

Peggy Noonan, who was a West Wing consultant before her most recent reincarnation as a Wall Street Journal columnist, perhaps had that scene in mind when she wrote her recent column, the Sorkin-esque “Let McCain Be McCain.” Take McCain off the leash, Noonan advised. Let him roam. Let him be. “The most interesting thing about Mr. McCain has always been the delight he takes in a certain unblinkered candor,” she writes. “Get him in the papers being who he is, get people looking at his real nature. Maybe then they’ll start taking him seriously when he talks policy. Maybe he’ll start taking himself seriously when he talks policy.”

Well. Noonan, as she so often does, proved prescient: This past week, we’ve heard much about McCain Being McCain—and particularly about his Selfhood as expressed and enabled by his quirky/sharp/rude/unamusing/old-fashioned/callous/smokin’ sense of humor. So, this past week, the McCain campaign has attempted to turn the criticisms of its candidate’s comedy on their head. Humor, McCain’s spokespeople declare, is a mark of Authenticity. Though some of the candidate’s jokes have been (mis?)interpreted as offensive, misogynistic, just plain bizarre, etc., the gags aren’t a liability, they say; on the contrary, McCain’s wisecracks are central to his appeal. “He’s long said that he’s said and done things in the past that he regrets,” McCain spokesman Brian Rogers told United Press International. “You’ve just got to move on and be yourself—that’s what people want. They want somebody who’s authentic and this kind of stuff is a good example of McCain being McCain.”

Per this formulation, the content of McCain’s jokes isn’t the point. The point is that, in making jokes that could be construed as offensive, McCain is being true to himself. That McCain is being, you know, McCain. (He tells off-color jokes? That’s so like him. How charmingly idiosyncratic! How delightfully Maverick!)

On the one hand, of course, such a formulation is completely valid. It’s refreshing to see a candidate—hey, any politician—crack jokes, even at the risk of blowback from the sometimes super-sensitive media. You could read not just a bold stubbornness, but also a quiet nobility, in McCain’s Emerson-esque truth-to-self-above-all-else, in his refusal to prance, as so many others have, in Politics’ Pageant—something both admirable and quintessentially American. As Politico’s Ben Smith notes, “To McCain’s friends and supporters, the humor is a mark of his authenticity. To his detractors, some of the jokes are offensive and out of touch with contemporary mores. What’s undeniable, though, is that the humor, with its political risks and, to some, its charm, is intrinsic to John McCain.”

You can’t help but notice that, in both outcomes of Smith’s either/or, McCain comes out on top. Either: his off-color jokes are a sign of authenticity…or: his off-color jokes are offensive and out of touch, but he tells them anyway. Which is a sign of authenticity. Win…win!

Thus, the other hand. The whole humor-as-authentic notion, and its parent, the McCain-as-authentic narrative, is—for his campaign—a nearly ideal corollary to the McMaverick meme that is now so common it’s become the stuff of cliché. Voters “are putting a premium on authenticity this year,” GOP strategist Matthew Dowd told the LA Times—and a humor narrative that, even in its most negative light, reinforces the candidate’s Straight Shooter Authenticity is, for them, rhetorical gold. No wonder they’re pushing it.

Megan Garber is an assistant editor at the Nieman Journalism Lab at Harvard University. She was formerly a CJR staff writer.