18 Chicago Tribune|Section 1|Monday, February 24, 2020
PERSPECTIVE
Back during the scandal over his
sexual exploitation of a young intern,
Bill Clinton was pilloried in this space
for his moral defects.
To which many liberals responded
with derision. Morality? What did that
matter? The economy was good, we
were at peace and Clinton was hardly
the first man to fool around and lie
about it. As one reader put it, he was
hired to be a president, not a pope.
At the time, that felt like a rational-
ization. A generation later, it feels like
a portent. Indeed, it is often said that
we are living now in Post-Fact Ameri-
ca. But truth is, we are also living in
Post-Integrity America.
No, that’s not breaking news. But it’s
been brought into painfully clear focus
these last few days.
One watched — not with surpriseanymore, the capacity for that being
long lost, but surely with dread and
fascination — as Donald Trump
launched his post-impeachment purge
of aides deemed insufficiently syco-
phantic. But that was just a prelude.
Last week, he pardoned or com-
muted the sentences of 11 people, most
of them guilty of lying, fraud, corrup-
tion, tax evasion and similar crimes. In
other words, the kinds of things of
which Trump has often been accused.
The power to soften or wipe away
criminal convictions is one of the nicer
perks of the presidency, allowing
compassion to be shown to those who
deserve it. And in fairness, several of
those who benefited last week seem to
meet that standard. Crystal Munoz, for
instance, had been sentenced to al-
most 20 years for dealing pot.
But it is worth noting that every
person Trump pardoned or gave clem-
ency came to his attention not through
the normal machinery of government,
but through inside connections or else,
as The New York Times noted, “were
promoted on Fox News.” Some were
championed by aides and allies. Somehad donated big money to his cam-
paign. And again, most had breached
the public trust.
Like former Illinois Gov. Rod Blago-
jevich, who had served eight years of a
14-year sentence for trying to sell
Barack Obama’s vacated Senate seat.
Trump, who has opined how unfair it
is that U.S. companies are not allowed
to pay bribes to do business overseas,
had called that sentence “ridiculous.”
It’s no great leap to suggest that he
sees himself in Blagojevich. Or in
former New York police Commis-
sioner Bernard Kerik, and financier
Michael Milken, whom he pardoned
for tax fraud and securities fraud,
respectively. If granting clemency and
pardons opens a window upon a presi-
dent’s moral priorities — and it does —
the view offered here suggests an
unfortunate affinity for scammers and
grifters, an empathy for those on the
make, cutting deals, cutting corners,
living the dream, until they got caught
up by pesky rules designed to enforce
integrity. And if those same people
happened to give him money or had
their names whispered into his ear bya friend, so much the better.
That’s not how this is supposed to
work. And that it is working this way
right out in the open, before our very
eyes, suggests — no, screams —
Trump’s imperviousness to any sense
of ethical affront.
During Clinton’s scandal, it was
argued in this space that a president
stamps himself upon an era “not sim-
ply by legislative accomplishment, but
also by dint of personal authority and
moral suasion.”
Trump disproves that. He has
stamped himself upon this era while
ignoring the very idea of personal
authority or moral suasion — and
daring us to care. But we had better. By
his lack of personal character, Trump
threatens our national character. And
he stamps this era with the signature
lesson of his life:
Once you give up integrity, it’s easy
to give up everything else.Tribune Content AgencyLeonard Pitts is a columnist
for The Miami HeraldMark Anthony, a supporter of President Donald Trump, shows off his shirt as he waits to enter a Trump campaign rally on Friday in Las Vegas.PATRICK SEMANSKY/APLiving in President Trump’s
post-integrity America
Leonard PittsAfter watching the pregame
festivities at this year’s NBA All-
Star game in Chicago, I gave in to
what I had denied ever since I left
home at the know-nothing age of
17.
I was molded by the greatest
city in America.
Circling a model of the city in
the Chicago Legends video were
city luminaries such as former
President Barack Obama, who
admitted that “Chicago made me
a man.”
There were cameos from
Chance the Rapper, Buddy Guy,
Common, Kiki Palmer and many
more people who have defined
Chicago and given back so much
to the city.
Later, in the pregame introduc-
tion ceremony, Common narrated
an inspirational history of Chi-
cago that included everyone from
the city’s first settler, Jean Bap-
tiste Point du Sable, to Black
Panther activist Fred Hampton to
Dwyane Wade, Derrick Rose,
Chaka Khan and Michael Jordan.
“If this city could talk,” Com-
mon rapped, “it would say, hey
man, you’re from Chicago.”
But what moved me to tears
was the young boy featured
throughout Common’s perform-
ance, a young boy who could have
been me so long ago, shooting
baskets in the alleys of Hyde Parkand later West Rogers Park, imag-
ining that the entire balance of
the Bulls’ season hung in one of
my perfect jump shots.
Although my winning shot
percentage was closer to a weak
infielder’s batting average than
the shooting percentage of say,
Chet “The Jet” Walker, I re-
mained a legend in my own mind.
Hey, a boy can dream big, right?
My whole childhood revolved
around basketball, a necessary
escape from the hot, cramped
apartments where Mom raised
me. Life and its subsequent
lessons all held court in the
neighborhood alleys of Chicago.
In addition to basketball, we
played baseball in vacant lots,
kick-the-can and hide-and-go-
seek in the passageways between
the three-story apartment build-
ings.
For some unknown reason we
were always on the move. In the
17 years of living in Chicago, I
lived in at least eight apartments.
Given my increasingly disinte-
grating memory there might have
been more. However, I do re-
member one horrible moment
when we moved on a Sunday and
the movers would not take the
refrigerator off the van until Mom
came up with the payment: in
cash.
Now when I visit those neigh-
borhoods I see that the places we
once lived still exist. I stand out-side those buildings and imagine
all the subsequent families —
especially those Chicago kids —
who have lived there before and
after Mom and me. Like me, those
boys and girls are filled with more
hopes and dreams than those
small rooms can ever hold.
Forget shooting a basketball for
a moment. I knew I wasn’t ever
going to be a Chicago Bull or a
White Sox. But I knew I could be
somebody. What did Chicago
have to do with that vision?
Well, how about everything?
Chicago pushed a shy, insecure
kid from a broken family forward
into the world. Life in this city is
not easy. You have to compete.
This city will knock you down,
but this city will help you up. You
will meet people who will try to
hurt you. But on the next block
you will meet people who will
give you the chance to prove
yourself. You will be deflated by
the politics and by the sheer un-
fairness of the arrogant haves
who can afford all those shiny
objects you covet. But that will
only make you double your efforts
to succeed. And in the end, you
will show them all. You will show
them that you, too, have a worth
that can’t be put under lights in a
display window.
I am an example that you can
be more than you ever imagined.
That you can survive the punks,
the poverty and the punishingweather. That you can look at a
Lake Michigan sunrise and, be-
cause you cannot see the other
side, dream big because there is
nothing to stop you.
To me, nostalgia is a loser’s
game. It can elevate the past,
devalue the present and negate an
even better future. But at the age
of 60-something, my rearview
mirror grows larger with each
passing year.
I have the scars and scrapes on
my body from the ups and downs
of life, but part of me is still that
hopeful, dreamy kid shooting
baskets on a summer night in a
Chicago alley.
The last time it snowed here in
downstate Illinois I thought back
to all those rides on CTA buses inwinter time. The windows were
fogged over, we were all packed in
tight for warmth next to each
other — brown, black and white
— and we were returning home to
our apartments, to the people
who loved us. I have lived in eight
states, and to this day I have never
experienced that same sense of
belonging as I did on those buses.
In the NBA All-Star pregame
video Jordan put it best when he
said that Chicago “is like a tattoo.
It’s not removable.” I wear it
proudly. Right above my heart.Chicago native Stephen J. Lyons
is the author of four books. His
most recent is “Going Driftless:
Life Lessons from the Heartland
for Unraveling Times.”A boy’s ‘Chicago tattoo’ becomes
a springboard to dreams realized
By Stephen J. LyonsChildren play basketball at dusk in Altgeld Park in 2017 in Chicago.JOHN J. KIM/CHICAGO TRIBUNE