July 28, 2020--Playing The White Card

There was a tsunami of political polls last week.  They tell one consistent story--Joe Biden is increasing his lead over Trump in every demographic category but one. 

Be it the ABC-Washington Post, Quinnipiac, or even the Fox News poll, Biden has opened double-digit leads among senior citizens, young voters, Hispanics, and African Americans among others.

The one demographic outlier is support for Trump among white voters. In the aggregate, across all age groups, 49 percent of white voters support Trump while 42 percent say they plan to back Biden. And with white people without college degrees Trump's lead is even larger--an unfathomable 57 to 35 percent.

This is both curious and significant. Curious because it stands out so starkly while on the other hand it is concerning since white people make up 61 percent of all voters and that means if Trump does exceptionally well among them he has a fighting chance to be reelected.

Is it "only" racism that is responsible for these numbers? 

I suspect for a good half of them it is. But that gets us just part way there. Racism is deeply rooted. Slavery, for example, has existed in America for more than 400 years. That is the definition of deeply rooted.

What then about the other reasons a majority of white people appear to support Trump?

Is it racism that a large percent of them are attracted to Trump's tell-it-like-it-supposedly is style? Especially when he attacks the coastal elites in the media, universities, and among the professional class?

Is it racism when Trump talks about the concerns of suburban "housewives" and a percentage of "stay-at-home moms" find his message resonates? And then there are Trump men who, proverbially, want their woman "barefoot and pregnant."

Is it racism when some white women like their men extra-macho and somehow, though hard to believe, find Trump to be attractively so?

Of course, some of this also includes a racist component. For example, the suburban women he is desperate to appeal to are white women, the same white women 52 percent of whom voted for him in 2016. When Trump turns his attention to suburban women he is not thinking about women of color.

My bottom line--the business of gender and race and voting is more complicated and unpredictable than it at first might seem. Thus the reasons why, say, a large percentage of white women voted for Trump four years ago and might do so again needs to be understood, even if one dislikes what is discovered.

January 12, 2018--Trump 2018 Removal Act

Earlier this week, Donald Trump flew to Nashville to visit Andrew Jackson's nearby home, the Hermitage, to honor him by, among other things, placing a wreath on his tomb.

Though Trump doesn't read and knows nothing verifiable about American history, including the American presidency, a large portrait of the 7th president is currently on prominent display in the Oval Office.

Why might that be? Not because Jackson owned about 200 slaves (though that per se would not repel Trump) but because he was the first president to be widely regarded by "ordinary" people. Trump views himself that way. There is his base that he spends all day pandering to, which was on vivid display yesterday.

It began in the morning. The House of Representatives was scheduled to vote on an extension of the FISA act, legislation that was first approved in 1978 to allow intelligence-gathering agencies to spy on foreign nationals as well as American citizens who might represent terrorist threats. 

Libertarians such as Senator Rand Paul had proposed an amendment that would require that a FISA court, more than at present, be required to authorize in advance any domestic spying.

Paul was on Morning Joe a few hours before the vote, seemingly to explain his amendment but, as it turned out, to seek and secure Trump's support. Seemingly as a non sequitur, unprompted, he went into a passionate attack on the FBI who, he falsely claimed, was working to "bring down" the president.

When I wondered out loud why the senator switched subjects, Rona patted me on the arm and as if to humor me and with a sigh, said, "Of course to suck up to Trump in order to secure his support."

"Rand Paul?" I asked, still naively, "The same person Trump mocked and destroyed during the 2016 Republican primary season?"

Rona just looked over at me as if I were born yesterday.

Needless to say, waffling back and forth all day, Trump came down to oppose the Paul amendment after an hour earlier endorsing it.

So much for attempting to suck up to and relate transactually to our president.

More of Trump playing to his base was on disgraceful display later in the day.

At a bipartisan meeting in the Oval Office about legislation that would provide some additional support for the Wall along the border with Mexico in trade for Congress's approval for a path to citizenship for 800,000 stateless DACA young people, Trump met with six congressional leaders, seemingly to wrap up final details.

Appearing to be unmotivated, almost like a non sequitur of his own, Trump began to ruminate about immigration writ larger, asking why we accept immigrants and refugees from places such as Haiti, El Salvador, and Africa. 

From "shithole countries" like these.

After this outrageousness, Republicans offered their usual tepid response, mainly mild forms of faux incredulity (they too worry about the power of Trump's base--perhaps 30 percent of America's adults) while most others expressed genuine outrage.

Has Trump finally crossed the line that many of us have been waiting for for more than two years, a line that will finally bring him down? 

Even in my hopeful naïvety, I was skeptical. Trump critics were not surprised by his ignorance and racism. We have come to expect it and have been rendered exhausted by it. Perhaps even inured.  

As someone yesterday evening was quoted as saying, it was another example of Trump seeking to "make America white again."

That caused me to think more about Trump's visit to Andrew Jackson's home and grave. 

Among other disturbing things that Jackson was responsible for was the infamous Indian Removal Act of 1830 that required native people, to leave our then western territories and relocate west of the Mississippi. Some tribes did so "voluntarily," others needed to be "removed" forcefully along the Trail of Tears.

This is what Trump is up to and why he admires Jackson so much--Trump too wants to see the removal of millions of Americans along a contemporary trail of tears. El Saladorians back to El Salvador, Hatians back to their island, Africans back to Africa, Muslims back to their countries.

One thing they have in common--they are all people of color. "What can't we admit more Norwegians, white-supremacist Trump opined wistfully.

If he didn't cross the line yesterday maybe he inched closer to it. Mueller is thankfully lurking while cravenly GOP members in Congress aren't.

November 24, 2015--The Woodrow Wilson Memorial Bridge

There is a move afoot on the campus of Princeton University to take Woodrow Wilson's name off campus facilities  and academic programs such as the residential complex, Wilson College and the prestigious Woodrow Wilson School of Public and International Affairs.

This because Wilson, who served as Princeton's president from 1902 to 1910 before becoming Governor of New Jersey and than the 28th president of the United States, was an unrepentant racist.

Among other things, he said--

To an African-American leader that "segregation is not humiliating, but a benefit, and ought to be so regarded by you."

And, he wrote about "a great Ku Klux Klan," that came into being to rid whites of "the intolerable burden of governments sustained by the votes of ignorant Negroes."

Regarding Princeton itself, during Wilson's tenure as president, no blacks were admitted. But this is only part of the Princeton story--this Ivy institution did not enroll African Americans until 1940, fully 30 years after Wilson stepped down as president. So there is a lot to criticize and atone for.

As a footnote, Jews were not welcomed until about the same time and even in my day, under pressure from my father who was prestige- and assimilation-oriented, I applied and was somehow admitted. I was subsequently told by a prominent alum that there were no eating clubs on campus that welcomed Jews and so, if he had advice to offer, I should . . .

Which I did and went to Columbia instead, which by then, having shed its Jewish quota, begrudgingly admitted and made sort of welcome my kind.

So I can understand the pressure minority Princeton students are putting on the administration to take down Wilson's name. In a throwback to the 1960s, to get their way, a group last week occupied the president's office.

The faculty now has promised to consider these demands and, knowing faculty as I so well do, I feel certain the outcome is inevitable.

The Princeton situation may turn out to be just prologue.

Looking at the history of American presidents who proceeded Wilson, fully 12 of them were more than racist--they owned slaves.

George Washington owned 250-350, Jefferson 200 (including Sally Hemmings), Madison more than 100, Monroe 75, Jackson about 200, Van Buren "just" one, Tyler 70, Polk 25, Taylor 150, Johnson (Lincoln's vice president) 8, and Grant (Lincoln's favorite general) enslaved 5.

If Wilson's name is to come off one of Princeton's student residence halls, shouldn't we also change the name of the Woodrow Wilson Memorial Bridge that crosses the Potomac outside Washington, DC? And what about the 13 American cities named for Jefferson? Or the names of James Madison University and Madison, Wisconsin?

What about those 21 counties in as many states named for Andrew Jackson, who, recall, owned about 200 slaves?

And then there is our nation's Capitol itself. It is named for our first president who owned at least 250 human beings. Is this acceptable with today's racial consciousness?

What then might be a politically correct new name for Washington? There is also a movement there to change the name of their football team--from the Redskins to . . .?

I welcome suggestions.

January 6, 2015--Snowbriding: Domestic Goddess

"You won't find anything there."

I was looking at the blackboard where breakfast specials were listed. "Why's that?" I asked the fellow sitting at a communal table with half a dozen pals who were clearly regulars at the Lamplighter, reputedly the best place for breakfast in Florence, South Carolina.

"If you look closely, you'll see they're only available Monday through Saturday. I know you haven't had your coffee yet, but today's Sunday." He said this more to his friends than to me and they slapped their considerable thighs in pleasure.

I muttered, "I know that." And then directly to him, trying to be friendly, "So what do you recommend? From what I read about this place I understand they make great biscuits."

"Read about it?' he said, mocking me. "I don't know anyone who'd do that or anyone here who could read what got written." His friends rocked back and forth as he toyed with me. "But to answer you--southern hospitality, you know--anything with country ham. And don't forget the grits. It'll cost you a little more--with the specials they give you a break on the price--but you won't get hurt too bad." He winked at me and grinned.

I rejoined Rona at our booth and told her the country ham was recommended. Looking at the menu she noticed that they served it and an egg on a biscuit. "I think I'll have that. And," she whispered, "It's only $1.90."

"We're not in New York anymore. And look, two eggs, country ham, grits, two biscuits, and coffee or tea, not on the special board, is $5.95."

"Including the coffee?"

I looked at the menu again, "That's right."

Both orders came in a flash and were delicious, Rona, who is an authority on grits declared the Lamplighter's the best she ever had.

Feeling pressure to get on the road--we had quite a distance to cover if we were to get to Ocala, Florida before dark--we asked for the ticket (how they refer to the bill or check in the South) and when it arrived Rona scrutinized it as if there was a problem. "It looks correct, but," she leaned toward me and whispered, "it's less than ten dollars. In fact less than nine. How do they make a living charging so little?"

The place was crowded. "Maybe," I offered, "they make it up in the volume. In nay case I think we pay at the cash register over by the communal table."

We gave it a wide berth and kept my eyes averted, but we weren't able to slip by unnoticed. "You folks live here?" the original fellow asked, obviously knowing from my accent that we were from up North.

"Nice of you to put it that way," Rona said. "That makes us feel welcomed about being here. But, no, we stopped here overnight on our way to Florida and heard this was the best breakfast place in town."

"And?"

"And you were right," I said, "about the country ham and--"

"And grits," Rona said, "About the best I ever had."

The boys at the table exchanged glances and head nods. "Where you from then?"

"From New York," I said.

"The city part of New York?"

"That part."

"Isn't Al Sharpton from there?" he asked, sounding ominous.

I muttered something, feeling eager to pay and get out of town.

"Didn't hear that," he said, twisting his finger in his ear. "Don't hear so good these days. You know, that little fella they put on TV all the time? Sharpton?"

"I think he is," Rona said. I glared at her. "You have a problem with that?"

Before he could answer, thankfully one of his buddies said, "I know someone from up there. He's in the honey business. Sells his honey at, whatcha call it, the green market."

"There's a big one right near where we live," Rona said, "At Union Square."

"That's the place," he said.

"Did you say Union Square?" the first fellow asked, again with a mocking tone. "For the soldiers who came down here during the War of Northern Aggression?"

"The very one," I said, feeling somehow bold. Why not, I thought. What could happen? It was 2015, not 1965, and we weren't in Selma.

"We're your people from?" he asked, sounding less threatening.

"From New York."

"I mean originally."

"Oh, my mother's from Poland and my father's family--"

"From a cabin in a forrest in Poland," Rona added. "But when they got to Ellis Island they changed the family name to Mooney. So she passed for being Irish. Which helped her when she began teaching. The school system at the time was all Irish." I had no idea where all this was coming from. Maybe the caffeine. But though things seemed calmed down still I wanted to pay and leave.

"The Irish, they're the ones built America," he said, again nodding toward his companions. "Then the slaves came and they did nothing."

"Slaves?" I gasped. "Did nothing? I think you got that all backwards and wrong. I mean the Irish--"

"I'm just playin' with you, that's all," he said with the beginnings of a smile.

Taking no chances, I said, "Gotta hit the road. Nice talking to you guys. Really. And thanks again for--"

"Everyone from New York has a beard and wears something black."

"Well I--"

"And has a beautiful women with him," the fellow in a Vietnam Vet cap sitting in a wheelchair at the end of table said with a nod of appreciation.

"Thank you kindly," Rona said, with an emerging South Carolina accent. "We've been married 30 years."

"Thirty-one," I corrected her.

"Thirty, thirty-one," he said, sounding all flirty, Why she don't even look thirty-one."

"That's right nice of you," Rona said.

"A domestic goddess," he gushed, "A regular domestic goddess. You sure are lucky, boy." He meant me.

"S'pose I am," I said. "S'pose I am."

We paid and drove west to get back onto I-95.

"I like that," Rona said after a while. I knew what she was referring to.