The President's message early Friday morning was menacingly clear: Are you outraged that a black man died after a video showed a white cop kneeling on his neck as he yelled, "I can't breathe"? Steal something as you protest and you, too, will die.
With protests turning into nights of rage, Minneapolis is revealing the open wounds of racism that a true leader would at least acknowledge, if not seek to heal. Floyd's death should evoke the kind of grief that would move a president to compassion and concern. Instead, Trump threatens to take us back to the bad-old days of the 1960s when civil rights protesters were met by Public Safety Commissioner Bull Connor's police dogs in Birmingham and a national commission's report on the racism that led to a surge in riots was widely read but then largely forgotten.
If he remains true to the old script of the 1960s, Trump will likely seek an advantage in this crisis by playing the strongman. He is likely to stoke the fears of those who are more alarmed by the smoke and flames than by systemic racism and police brutality and offer himself as the defender of order who is willing to crack down with lethal force.
Trump has seen this play out before. Headley was just one of several strongmen who were seen as heroes among frightened white people during the Civil Rights Movement. Frank Rizzo was another. When he was the Philadelphia police commissioner, he responded to a peaceful student protest in 1967 calling for more courses on African-American history (among other demands), by infamously urging cops to go after the students. Violence broke out, and 57 people were arrested.
While Rizzo oversaw the police in Philly, Trump was attending college there. Meanwhile, black Americans across the country demanded change and protests, which led to violent (and sometimes deadly) clashes with the police. A backlash arose among whites who felt both fear and resentment due to questions about their wealth and privilege hinging on America's original sin.
Trump faced his own charges of racism in the 1970s when Richard Nixon's Justice Department sued the Trump family's real estate firm for discriminatory rental practices against black people. Instead of working to make things right, Trump employed what became his signature move: he went on the attack. He hired the notorious Roy Cohn -- a defense attorney who had been Sen. Joseph McCarthy's top aide during his red-baiting campaign -- to file a $100 million countersuit for making false statements (those allegations were dismissed by the court). The original lawsuit was eventually settled and the Trumps signed a consent decree.
He would tell journalist Bryant Gumble in 1989 that he thought black people enjoyed special advantages. When five black and Latino teenagers were arrested for the brutal rape of a Central Park jogger that same year, he defied calls for calm, instead taking out full page newspaper ads that read, "BRING BACK THE DEATH PENALTY. BRING BACK OUR POLICE!" The ad also read, "I want to hate these murderers and I always will. I am not looking to psychoanalyze or understand them, I am looking to punish them." (The Central Park Five were wrongly convicted and jailed until they were exonerated in 2002. New York City paid a $41 million settlement to the five in 2014.)
From the White House, Trump has made his attitudes on race clear with his comments about "s**thole countries." He also targeted Democratic congresswomen of color and said that they should "go back and help fix the crime infested places from which they came" (three of the four women were born in the US).
As President, Donald Trump has also signaled his fondness for brutal lawmen when he pardoned former Arizona sheriff Joe Arpaio, who faced jail time for defying a court order in a racial profiling case and continuing traffic patrols that targeted immigrants. Trump, who cast himself as the "law and order candidate" in 2016, has also joked about cops using excessive force when putting suspects in their patrol cars.
Now, in 2020, Donald Trump is a President whose re-election prospects are burdened by the weight of his failed response to the Covid-19 pandemic. More than 100,000 Americans were killed by the virus while Trump denied the severity of the public health threat, boosted an unproven treatment that studies suggest could be dangerous, and mused about quack cures involving household cleaners and light. Though his rival Joe Biden has, for the most part, remained at home in Delaware, the former VP has managed to build a lead in many polls, causing Trump's advisers to warn he is in trouble with the voters.
Like many formed in the crucible of the 1960s, Trump seems to revert to the same old political and cultural battles whenever the opportunity arises. Unfortunately, he never learned to listen to the anguish beneath the rage of protesters.
When Trump was a young man, the likes of Headley, Connor and Rizzo ignored the suffering that led to riots and played to public anxieties by acting and talking like tough guys. Trump should take care not to make the same tragic mistake by using public fear as an excuse for official violence. It's not clear such an approach would get him re-elected, but it is certain to keep the wounds open.
"Opinion" - Google News
May 30, 2020 at 11:13AM
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Trump's menacing message follows 1960s script - CNN
"Opinion" - Google News
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