The Washington Post - 22.02.2020

saturday, february 22 , 2020. the washington post EZ RE a1 9

P

erhaps I have too much time on

my hands, but swirling around

in my head are questions such

as:

How many times in the past two

years has Sen. Elizabeth Warren (D-

Mass.) sat down for a meal of collard

greens and cornbread, as she did

recently with hip-hop artist Benny

Starr at Bertha’s Kitchen, a black-

owned restaurant in North Charleston,

S.C.?

Why did former South Bend, Ind.,

mayor Pete Buttigieg elect to scarf

down a plate of fried chicken, collard

greens, and macaroni and cheese with

the Rev. Al Sharpton at Sylvia’s soul

food restaurant in Harlem last April?

Why didn’t Buttigieg, when he was

mayor, implement in South Bend his

ballyhooed national “Douglass Plan” t o

confront the institutional racism that

African Americans face in criminal

justice, health care, education and

housing? After all, residents of South

Bend’s poor neighborhoods have strug-

gles of their own.

When did it occur to Sen. Amy

Klobuchar (D-Minn.) to call for a

review of old evidence in the case of a

16-year-old black boy who may have

been wrongly convicted and sentenced

to life in prison for murder when she

was chief prosecutor in Minneapolis?

Why did Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.)

conduct a 2016 presidential campaign

that he has described on a black radio

program as “being too white” and “too

male”? Why didn’t h e recognize it at t he

time? What prompts him to own up to

the problem now?

What made former New York mayor

Mike Bloomberg start with all the

abject apologies for his stop-and-frisk

program that aggressively targeted

black and Latino men for police search-

es? Why is he now, at every turn,

proclaiming his love and respect for

women? (Was it something he said?)

Why is former vice president Joe

Biden, instead of enjoying retirement

and his grandchildren after nearly

50 years of public service, out on the

stump clinging to African Americans,

Latinos and Barack Obama as though

they were life preservers?

The answer to each question may be

in hand. The race for the 2020 Demo-

cratic presidential nomination is well

underway.

It is virtually impossible for a Demo-

cratic presidential candidate to get

there from here without establishing a

strong connection with African Ameri-

cans and other voters of color.

Thus, the collard greens, the mea

culpas, the grandiose spending plans,

the high-dudgeon denunciations of all

things deemed offensive to people of

color — these are all part of the efforts

of white Democratic contenders to get

on the good side of those who consti-

tute an indispensable part of the party’s

lifeblood. Warren, Buttigieg and com-

pany face the challenge of getting it

done while not appearing to be pander-

ing, which, of course, is what they are

doing.

One clue as to whether the candi-

date’s behavior is authentic or just

shameless sucking up is the amount of

evidence that collard greens consump-

tion, public railing against racial dis-

parities and all the breast-beating over

things done or left undone were activi-

ties engaged in long before the hat got

tossed into the ring.

Every good wish with that.

Another dead giveaway as to wheth-

er their love affair with minorities is

authentic or concocted is found in the

roles assigned by the campaigns.

Far too often, blacks and Latinos are

given walk-on parts that serve symbolic

gestures: Get ethnic entertainers and

athletes into photo ops with the candi-

dates; assume window dressing and

essentially empty roles of “campaign

adviser,” “mentor” or “ press aide,” all

designed to reinforce the candidate’s

image as the best friend that people of

color could ever have.

When, in fact, all of the strategic

campaign decisions — the deployment

of resources and staff, the hashing out

of policy positions — are made in

private rooms filled with white, self-

a ssured hotshots.

Why the rant?

History teaches that black and

brown voter loyalty is taken for grant-

ed: voters who represent only a means

to an end. The objective of all the

preelection courting is to convert as

many minorities to a white contender’s

camp as possible. Little more than that.

Even Republicans try it — witness

President Trump’s State of the Union

message. Lucky for Democrats, the

GOP remains so much worse at it than

they are.

And so, Warren, Buttigieg, Klobu-

char, Biden, Sanders and Bloomberg

will keep dropping in on black church-

es, making drive-by appearances with

hip-hop artists, yukking it up on black

radio and TV stations, and slipping in

as many slang expressions as time will

allow, while looking for any and all

chances to get noticed downing those

collard greens. (And use your corn-

bread to soak up some of that pot likker.

That’s the best part.)

[email protected]

Colbert i. King

It’s pandering

season for

Democratic

candidates

BY WILLIAM H. MCRAVEN

E

dmund Burke, the Irish states-

man and philosopher, once said:

“The only thing necessary for the

triumph of evil is for good men to

do nothing.” Over the course of the past

three years, I have watched good men and

women, friends of mine, come and go in

the Trump administration — all trying to

do something — all trying to do their best.

Jim Mattis, John Kelly, H.R. McMaster,

Sue Gordon, Dan Coats and, now, Joe

Maguire, who until this week was the

acting director of national intelligence.

I have known Joe for more than

40 years. There is no better officer, no

better man and no greater patriot. He

served for 36 years as a Navy SEAL. In

2004, he was promoted to the rank of rear

admiral and was chosen to command all

of Naval Special Warfare, including the

SEALs. Those were dark days for the

SEALs. Our combat losses from wars in

Iraq and Afghanistan were the highest in

our history, and Joe and his wife, Kathy,

attended every SEAL funeral, providing

comfort and solace to the families of the

fallen.

But it didn’t stop there. Not a day went

by that the Maguires didn’t reach out to

some Gold Star family, some wounded

SEAL, some struggling warrior. Every

loss was personal, every family precious.

When Joe retired in 2010, he tried the

corporate world. But his passion for the

Special Operations soldiers was so deep

that he left a lucrative job and took the

position as the president of the Special

Operations Warrior Foundation, a charity

that pays for educating the children of

fallen warriors.

In 2018, Joe was asked to be the

director of the National Counterterror-

ism Center, a job he knew well from his

last assignment as a vice admiral. He

accepted, but within months of his arrival

came the announcement of Coats’s depar-

ture as director of national intelligence.

Maguire didn’t seek to fill the job; he was

asked to do it by the president. At first he

declined, suggesting that Sue Gordon,

Coats’s deputy, would be better suited for

the job.

But the president chose Maguire. And,

like most of t hese good men and w omen,

he came in with the intent to do his very

best, to follow the rules, to follow the l aw

and to follow what was morally right.

Within a few weeks of taking the assign-

ment, he found himself embroiled in the

Ukraine whistleblower case. Joe told the

White House that, if asked, he would

testify, and he would tell the truth. He

did. In s hort order, he earned t he respect

of the entire intelligence community.

They knew a good man was at the helm.

A man they could count on, a man who

would back them, a man whose integrity

was more important than his future

employment.

But, of course, in this administration,

good men and women don’t last long. Joe

was dismissed for doing his job: oversee-

ing the dissemination of intelligence to

elected officials who needed that infor-

mation to do their jobs.

As A mericans, we should be frightened

— deeply afraid for the future of the

nation. When good men and women can’t

speak the truth, when facts are inconve-

nient, when integrity and character no

longer matter, when presidential ego and

self-preservation are more important

than national security — then there is

nothing left to stop the triumph of evil.

The writer, a retired Navy admiral, was

commander of the U.S. Special Operations

Command from 2011 to 2014. He oversaw the

2011 Navy SEAL raid in Pakistan that killed

Osama bin Laden.

If good men can’t speak the truth, we should be deeply afraid

SALT LAKE CITY

C

itizens! Rejoice! There is a buffet! I am

here, too, for real, standing at the

buffet. Mike Bloomberg has descended

from his villa to stand before the people

and ask them to give him their voices, and he

has prepared a great feast! If you were not

sufficiently satisfied with the spectacle he

provided you at the debate — it was very

generous of him to volunteer to be trapped in a

net and fed to a lion — then savor his

generosity now, O populace!

Here are four tables heaped with bounty,

covered in black cloths! It is barely 9 a.m., and

yet here are plump grapes to feast upon, purple

and lush and glinting in the blue LED beams

that shine upon this event space. Here is

cantaloupe and his vile cousin, honeydew, or

honeydew and his vile cousin, cantaloupe!

Here is toothsome golden pineapple, tart and

juicy! Mike ( yes, citizen, he asks you to call him

simply “Mike,” for he is humbling himself

before the people!) has stretched out his hand

and there are strawberries for you, O people, in

the dead of winter! Such miracles will be

commonplace when Bloomberg is tribune!

Give him your voices! Are you not, as the music

blasting from the speakers proclaims, “HAP-

PY” (“happy happy happy”) in having such a

patron?

G Catering has supplied the finest of pas-

tries! There are cherry-chocolate scones and

bacon- cheddar-chive scones and scones with

the savor of ripe figs! There is what appears to

be pain au chocolat, oozing richly in its box.

There is even what a sign advertises as “Mini

Kouign Amann.” The boxes bear little buttery

footprints as the people at the buffet gather

these dainties into their hands. When you are

asked for your support, remember how this

was far better than Turkish delight. And, do not

forget, you can get a T-shirt! Or several, to take

to your family! You shall feast, and then you

shall be caparisoned like Jove himself! Mike is

a man of the people.

How generous has Mike not been? And how

many more spectacles shall he not bestow unto

the people? Look, he is here, with his standards

and his flags, and six television screens bearing

his sigil, and he has brought custom jokes with

him, made expressly for you, Salt Lake City,

using the finest craftsmanship!

Do not mind about the debate. The debate

was to show that he is humbled. He delights to

humble himself before the people. “How was

your night last night?” he asks. Ha! Citizens, he

is like you! He, too, has known embarrassment.

And, humiliation upon humiliation, the instru-

ment of this mortification was a mouthy —

broad — no, no! He does not use those words

anymore, words, as he says, not aligned with

his values! Mike wonders whether Brigham

Young would have said “this is the place” i f he’d

seen the construction on I-15! Laugh, citizens!

He has noticed where he is and made this joke

for you! “A lot of love here from Mike,” as his

state director informed the crowd. Citizens, be

not ungrateful.

Who fitter to beat Donald Trump, O citizens?

Trump probably does not even have a real

hippopotamus at his villa. Trump’s fixtures are

all of brass! This assuredly is how you ought to

judge your new ruler. Running for president is

not for plebeians; they will be forced into wine

caves at best, or chant for revolution at worst.

At their events, there is nothing to feast on but

air and hope. Have another grape.

No, no, do not shout and interrupt him. Who

is this intruder? Quickly, quickly chant “Go

Mike!” until this interloper is removed. These

harsh words are not for Mike’s ears! Citizens,

none of this ingratitude, or perhaps there will

be only honeydew at the next buffet. No, pile

your plate high with pastries. Contemplate

your good fortune in having such a benefactor!

Remember the words he has so expensively

transmitted into your minds: Mike will get it

done!

Women’s w ords cannot hurt him, sealed in a

nondisclosure agreement or leveled against

him in debate. His campaign will be inclusive,

he says. Does it matter what he did in the past?

Do not ask about stop-and-frisk. Here is anoth-

er pastry. Use it to seal your mouth. You have

asked enough.

He concludes on a note of humility: “I can’t

do it alone! I need your help. I need your

support. I need your vote.”

Citizens! Is this not enough? Has he not

stood before you and asked nicely? Give him

your voices, now! Soon the whole country shall

be a purple state, covered in opulent purple!

You shall have sweet shrimp from the coast and

larks’ tongues and a suckling pig on a golden

platter! You shall have bread aplenty, and the

circus will surely follow.

Twitter: @petridishes

alexandra Petri

Mike Bloomberg

humbles himself

before the people

drawing board

B Y MIKE SMITH FOR THE LAS VEGAS SUN

B Y SHENEMAN

B Y LUCKOVICH FOR THE ATLANTA JOURNAL-CONSTITUTION

B Y HORSEY FOR THE SEATTLE TIMES