The Washington Post - USA (2022-03-01)

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TUESDAY, MARCH 1 , 2022. THE WASHINGTON POST EZ RE A25

TUESDAY Opinion

BY AUDREY MCDONALD ATKINS

E


ugene Walter, the bon vivant
chronicler of life in Mobile,
Ala., once wrote, “If, as a child,
you saw, every Mardi Gras, the
figure of Folly chasing Death around
the broken column of life, beating him
on the back with a Fool’s scepter...
wouldn’t you see the world in different
terms, too?”
Folly chasing Death. I can’t think of
a better way to describe much of what
has happened over the past two pan-
demic years.
The Order of Myths (OOM), Mo-
bile’s oldest Mardi Gras mystic society,
founded in 1867, takes Folly chasing
Death as its symbol. Folly is always
depicted as a court jester who chases
his skeletal foe, Death, around a bro-
ken column that symbolizes the fragili-
ty of life.
And after about 60 parades over
several weeks of Mardi Gras celebra-
tions, the OOM parade this week (if
you want to sound like a local, pro-
nounce it “double-oh-em”) will be, as
usual, the last one, falling on Fat Tues-
day. It’s the last gasp of fun before the
penitential season of Lent begins.
For more than 150 years, the Carni-
val season has ended with Folly defeat-
ing Death by beating him with gilded
pig bladders. Seriously, the Fool’s
“scepter” is a broomstick from which
dangle two inflated pig bladders that
have been painted gold.
The scepter stayed on the shelf last
year, when covid-19 canceled Mobile’s
Mardi Gras season. But it was in full
swing the year before — revelry in the
streets even as death was creeping up
on the world. Fat Tuesday that year fell
on Feb. 25, when the coronavirus was
still called “novel,” when the World
Health Organization had not yet de-
clared its spread a pandemic.
My husband and I traveled from
our home in Birmingham to Mobile
County, where I was born and grew
up, to visit my parents and, of course,
take in the Mardi Gras parades. The
weather was gloriously sunny and
nearly 70 degrees, even though it was
still winter.
We had no idea that within a couple
of weeks, the things we took for grant-
ed would become unthinkable: Kick-
ing off the day in a crowded downtown
restaurant with bloody marys topped
with skewers of boiled shrimp, olives,
and pickled okra and green beans.
Strolling along with other Mardi Gras
revelers among the live oaks in Bien-
ville Square. Staking out a spot at my
favorite vantage point, the corner of St.
Francis and St. Joseph streets, as the
crowd gathered.
Before too long, we heard the tell-
tale sirens alerting the crowd that the
parade was near. Marching bands and
floats passed us, krewe members toss-
ing MoonPies, beads, Mardi Gras dou-
bloons and other treats to out-
stretched hands. My husband caught a
4-foot bright green, furry stuffed tric-
eratops for me.
I named him Folly, and he still sits
on the chair in our bedroom as a
reminder of all the fun we had before
the world shut down.
“Folly” is defined as a costly or fool-
ish undertaking. I never in a million
years dreamed that venturing out to
the bookstore or grocery store would
become an act of folly. Or that visiting
with a friend from a 6-foot distance,
our smiles hidden by flowery masks we
coordinated with our outfits, would
become a daredevil stunt. Or that
searching for toilet paper and Lysol
wipes would become an extreme sport.
Forget about dancing around in a
crowd of thousands trying to catch
some plastic beads and a smushed
marshmallow cookie.
For the past two years, I’ve felt like
Folly, only Death was chasing me. And
it wasn’t a man in a silly skeleton
costume with a skull mask.
It was the woman who got too close
to me in the line at the Piggly Wiggly.
And the hikers who wouldn’t yield an
inch on the trail. And the people who
crowd together in restaurants and bars
and then go out into the world reck-
lessly spreading their mucus and drop-
lets. And the ones who refuse to believe
that there is still a pandemic and won’t
get vaccinated or wear a mask, not
even one with a skeleton grin.
In the past two years, we’ve had to
give up so many things that we used to
take for granted, such as standing on a
crowded sidewalk in the sun and
watching a parade. That’s why I hope
the experience is all that more fun for
the thousands of revelers who are en-
joying the Mardi Gras parades in Mo-
bile and New Orleans and elsewhere
this year, even as the shadow of the
pandemic still looms over us all.
Because this Fat Tuesday, this one
day out of the whole year, is the day
Death can never win. Laissez les bons
temps rouler.

Audrey McDonald Atkins is the author of
“They Call Me Orange Juice: Stories and
Essays.”

For two

y ears, Folly

has chased

Death

I

n January, the three men convicted in the
2020 murder of Ahmaud Arbery were sen-
tenced to life imprisonment by a Georgia
judge. Yet last week, they were convicted
again for their roles in the killing, and will be
sentenced again soon.
Are two convictions better than one? Politi-
cians across the spectrum, including Georgia’s
Republican governor, seem to think so. But the
highly unusual decision to prosecute individuals
a second time for the same acts, even without the
possibility of greater punishment, represents a
little-noticed but potentially significant erosion
in a Justice Department policy intended to re-
strain prosecutors and protect civil liberties.
Travis McMichael, who fatally shot Arbery;
his father, Gregory McMichael, who set off the
chase; and William Bryan, who followed in his
vehicle, are now notorious criminals. It’s certain-
ly understandable, at a time of racial polariza-
tion, that many Americans celebrated the men’s
federal conviction on hate-crimes charges.
But it’s precisely in climates of political pas-
sion that government is most likely to justify
policies that corrode rights in the long run. This
insight was until recently second nature to
American liberals, as in their criticism of Presi-
dent George W. Bush’s “war on terror.” Successive
prosecutions for the same act — like government
searches of journalists or restrictions on peace-
ful assembly — might sometimes be necessary,
but their wider use deserves close scrutiny in a
free society no matter how odious the govern-
ment’s targets.
As Supreme Court Justice Neil M. Gorsuch
wrote in a 2019 opinion: “When governments
may unleash all their might in multiple prosecu-
tions against an individual, exhausting them-
selves only when those who hold the reins of
power are content with the result,” the most
unpopular defendants will be among the first
targets — but there is “nothing to stop them from
being the last.”
Gorsuch’s opinion, on the Fifth Amendment’s
double-jeopardy clause, was a dissent. The Su-
preme Court allows successive prosecutions by
federal and state governments for the same
crime — and the federal charges against the
Arbery defendants differ from the state murder
charges because they required prosecutors to
prove racial bias.
Yet the Justice Department has for decades
recognized that prosecuting people for the same
acts multiple times, even when it has the consti-
tutional authority, risks distorting the justice
system. And though Justice won’t admit it, the
department appears to have carved out a new
exception to its dual-prosecution policy in this
case.
Named for a 1960 Supreme Court opinion, the
“Petite policy” says federal prosecutors should
not charge people for acts already prosecuted by
a state unless the state outcome left “a substan-
tial federal interest ... demonstrably unvindicat-
ed.” That narrow exception could apply, the
policy says, if a state acquittal was the result of
misconduct, or where a penalty was “manifestly
inadequate.”
For example, after Los Angeles police officers
who beat Rodney King were acquitted by a
California jury in 1992, the federal government
successfully prosecuted some of them under a
federal civil rights statute. Those laws were
passed in part to protect Black Americans
against violence that might be tolerated by local
authorities or juries.
But in the Arbery case, the jury did convict. So
what interest, exactly, is vindicated by a succes-
sive prosecution? A Justice Department repre-
sentative said in an email that there is a “substan-
tial federal interest in obtaining a conviction
against the three defendants for a hate crime,”
adding that the state convictions “do not contain
a hate-crime element.”
Is it the department’s position that the Petite
policy’s presumption against dual prosecutions
no longer applies in instances where the Justice
Department can charge defendants under a civil
rights statute? It certainly appears so — see also
the successive federal conviction of former Min-
neapolis police officer Derek Chauvin after he
was sentenced to 22.5 years in state prison for the
murder of George Floyd.
This apparent reinterpretation of the Petite
policy has taken place without a public explana-
tion or debate. Instead of reserving dual prosecu-
tions for cases where a state penalty was insuffi-
cient, the Justice Department now asserts an
interest in seeking convictions for purely sym-
bolic purposes. That matters: An important con-
straint on government power has been removed.
President Biden, campaigning for his federal
elections bill, last month accused Georgia of
implementing “Jim Crow 2.0,” and a high-profile
federal hate-crimes conviction in the state could
be seen as supporting his argument. That shows
how symbolic prosecutions can blur the line
between politics and the law. The Justice Depart-
ment’s highly irregular handling of this case
suggests that the administration’s political inter-
ests played a role.
Those who support the rollback of the Petite
policy in this instance should not be surprised
when a future administration does so to publi-
cize other classes of crime that align with its
political interests. For example, a Republican
administration could bring federal charges
against individuals already vigorously pros-
ecuted and sentenced at the state level for acts of
violence or property destruction during 2020
Black Lives Matter protests.
Righteous outrage over Arbery’s murder
shouldn’t obscure these risks. Georgia already
imposed maximum penalties on those responsi-
ble. The federal government saw no downside in
proceeding with a double prosecution against
reviled defendants already under life sentences,
confident the effort would be cheered in the
media. But amid much self-congratulation, it
has chipped away at a meaningful norm intend-
ed to buttress constitutional rights, and the
implications will extend beyond this case.

JASON WILLICK

Don’t a pplaud

the hate-crime

convictions

BY ALEXANDER S. VINDMAN

F

or a decade, the West has failed
to do enough to ensure contin-
ued deterrence in the face of
Russian aggression. Accounting
for this failure means doing more for
Ukraine now. Not tomorrow. Not next
week. Today.
Ukrainians are valiantly fighting to
defend their country from Russian in-
vaders. They have stunned the world
with their will to resist. The countries of
the West — far too passive initially —
have begun to rise to the challenge with
increased military aid and crippling
sanctions. Such steps are welcome, but
they still aren’t enough.
Russian autocrat Vladimir Putin has
chosen to threaten the world with Rus-
sia’s nuclear arsenal if other countries
intervene in his war on Ukraine. Despite
Putin’s bluster, however, the rules of
great-power competition and confron-
tation have not changed since the begin-
ning of the Cold War. But we have forgot-
ten how to confront a belligerent, saber-
rattling Russia. A previous generation of
policymakers would have managed ten-
sions while standing up to intimidation
and calling out incendiary rhetoric. In
truth, Russian leaders have no interest
in a nuclear war or a bilateral conven-
tional conflict that they would certainly
lose.
The West has far more room to ma-
neuver than it appears to grasp. Above
all, the United States and its allies must
be creative and proactive in crafting a
broad new strategy for Ukraine to re-
place decades of failed policy in the
region. Successive administrations have
mistakenly prioritized engagement
with Russia at the expense of regional
deterrence, security and stability. Simul-
taneously, the United States has played
down cooperation with sincere and will-
ing partners, such as Ukraine, for fear of
derailing the tenuous relationship with
Moscow.
For a generation, placating the Krem-
lin without applying the tools of hard

power became standard operating pro-
cedure. Now we — and, above all, Ukrai-
nians — are paying the price for this
mistake.
Starting today, however, the United
States and its allies can begin forming a
special relationship with Ukraine. This
partnership could be grounded in the
existing NATO-Ukraine Commission —
the decision-making body responsible
for developing the NATO-Ukraine rela-
tionship — and other existing institu-
tions. The cornerstone of this approach
would be a new version of the Marshall
Plan to rebuild Ukraine’s economy and a
21st-century version of the Lend-Lease
Act to support the heroic efforts of
Ukrainian soldiers with much-needed
lethal aid, including more antitank
weapons, powerful air defense systems
and unmanned aerial vehicles. UAVs in
particular would be capable of striking
military targets on Russian and Belaru-
sian territory that are involved in the
current offensive, such as cruise mis-
siles, ballistic missiles and Russian air-
craft. Meanwhile, a NATO Membership
Action Plan should remain on the table
for Ukraine, and the West should sup-
port Ukraine’s ongoing efforts to inte-
grate with the European Union.
Funding for this bold new venture
would need to be orders of magnitude
higher than President Biden’s recent
pledge of $350 million. The United
States should aim to spend billions on
security assistance and tens of billions
on economic aid. Only help on that scale
will have a demonstrable impact.
There is already a historic precedent
for this kind of support and assistance.
During the Cold War, it was a well-
known fact among both Soviet and
Western leadership that if one side en-
gaged in an overseas conflict, the other
side would funnel materiel aid to op-
pose their adversary. Proxy wars were
the norm, and direct confrontation even
occurred occasionally.
Soviet and American fighter pilots
engaged in dogfights over the skies of
Korea in the 1950s. The U.S.S.R. sup-

ported the North Vietnamese during the
Vietnam War, and the United States, in
turn, aided the mujahideen during the
Soviet-Afghan War. This awareness of
the other side’s activities did not, howev-
er, lead to wider bilateral conflict or a
nuclear war. And in moments of acute
danger, such as the Cuban missile crisis,
a willingness to defend critical U.S. in-
terests and values prevented events
from spiraling out of control as well as
reducing the likelihood of future war.
The doctrine of mutually assured de-
struction has not disappeared over-
night, and as recently as January, the
United States and Russia reaffirmed
their view that a nuclear war cannot be
won and must never be fought. The
United States and its allies still maintain
a significant deterrent that Putin will
not choose to challenge on a whim; he is
not a madman. Shrinking from the mo-
ment would only grant a free hand to
countries with nuclear weapons to free-
ly escalate at a conventional level with-
out fear of anything beyond sanctions.
The proper response to this war is to
boost our support for Ukraine militarily
and economically.
Now that we’ve woken up, we must
decide if we’re willing to learn from the
past and change the course of history.
We cannot just watch as the Kremlin
assails a democratic nation and erodes
the foundations of everything the inter-
national community has built. The onus
is on the West to buttress Ukrainian
ferocity on the battlefield using its im-
mense economic resources, diplomatic
influence and military power.
Make no mistake, the world is watch-
ing. Ukraine is leading. Now, the West
must decide whether it has the fortitude
to support the Ukrainian people’s fight
for freedom.

The writer, a retired U.S. Army lieutenant
colonel and former director for European
affairs on the National Security Council, is a
doctoral student and senior fellow at Johns
Hopkins School of Advanced International
Studies.

How to up our game o n Ukraine

DIMITAR DILKOFF/AGENCE FRANCE-PRESSE/GETTY IMAGES
Residents and volunteers prepare a rear post with trenches in Kyiv, Ukraine, on Monday.

BY H.A. HELLYER

“T

his isn’t a place, with all due
respect, like Iraq or Afghani-
stan, that has seen conflict
raging for decades,” Charlie
D’Agata, a CBS correspondent in Kyiv,
told his colleagues back in the studio.
“You know, this is a relatively civilized,
relatively European — I have to choose
those words carefully, too — city where
you wouldn’t expect that or hope that it’s
going to happen.”
Putin’s criminal invasion of Ukraine
has generated an inspiring wave of soli-
darity around the world, but for many —
especially non-White observers — it has
been impossible to tune out the racist
biases in Western media and politics.
D’Agata’s comments generated a swift
backlash — and he was quick to apologize
— but he was hardly the only one. A
commentator on a French news program
said, “We’re not talking about Syrians
fleeing bombs of the Syrian regime
backed by Putin; we’re talking about Eu-
ropeans leaving in cars that look like ours
to save their lives.” On the BBC, a former
deputy prosecutor general of Ukraine
declared, “It’s very emotional for me be-
cause I see European people with blue
eyes and blond hair ... being killed every
day.” Even an Al Jazeera anchor said,
“These are not obviously refugees trying
to get away from areas in the Middle
East,” while an ITV News reporter said,
“Now the unthinkable has happened to
them, and this is not a developing, Third
World nation; this is Europe.”
British pundit Daniel Hannan joined
the chorus in the Telegraph. “They seem
so like us. That is what makes it so
shocking. War is no longer something

visited upon impoverished and remote
populations. It can happen to anyone,” he
wrote.
The implication for anyone reading or
watching — particularly anyone with ties
to a nation that has also seen foreign
intervention, conflict, sanctions and
mass migration — is clear: It’s much
worse when White Europeans suffer than
when it’s Arabs or other non-White peo-
ple. Yemenis, Iraqis, Nigerians, Libyans,
Afghans, Palestinians, Syrians, Hondu-
rans — well, they are used to it.
The insults went beyond media cover-
age. A French politician said Ukrainian
refugees represent “high-quality immi-
gration.” The Bulgarian prime minister
said Ukrainian refugees are “intelligent,
they are educated.... This is not the
refugee wave we have been used to, peo-
ple we were not sure about their identity,
people with unclear pasts, who could
have been even terrorists.”
It’s as if, in our anger and horror at the
scenes of Russia’s aggression, we are inca-
pable of recognizing a simple fact: We’ve
seen this before.
A Vanity Fair special correspondent
denied precisely that in a tweet: “This is
arguably the first war we’ve seen (actually
seen in real-time) take place in the age of
social media, and all of these heart-
wrenching images make Russia look ut-
terly terrible.”
The tweet was erased — like the experi-
ences of many who have documented the
horrors of war in recent decades on social
media and beyond.
Putin’s military also intervened fero-
ciously in Syria, backing a murderous
regime. That war unleashed a level of
mass death, suffering, destruction and
displacement not yet seen in Ukraine —

but the West’s response was far less
empathetic. The same can be said of the
U.S. invasions and military operations in
Afghanistan and Iraq; the catastrophic
Saudi-led war in Yemen; the Israeli occu-
pation of the Palestinians.
This double standard is so evident in
how we as Westerners engage in interna-
tional relations. Far too often, we dehu-
manize non-White populations, dimin-
ishing their importance, and that leads to
one thing: the degrading of their right to
live in dignity.
Beyond the moral and ethical impera-
tives, there are geopolitical ones — by
engaging with suffering in this myopic
way, we embolden other Putins. They
realize that the checks against them will
be mostly weak and ineffectual, as long as
the so-called civilized world is left alone.
It’s true that states often intervene to
protect their own interests. For all the talk
of “values,” it’s usually cold pragmatism
that informs decisions. But it is also true
that our “interests” are informed, tremen-
dously, by our values. When our values
stipulate that there is a civilizational lad-
der, where a population is on one end of it
and everyone else is far below, then we
lose the moral high ground.
Solidarity with the brave people of
Ukraine has reminded us all what is
possible when empathy is really felt, but it
will be bittersweet if our solidarity is
really just skin-deep. Our media has a big
role to play to avoid this. Many do an
excellent job, but too many need to do a
lot better.

The writer, a Carnegie Endowment for
International Peace scholar, is a senior fellow
at the Royal United Services Institute and
Cambridge University.

Coverage of Ukraine has exposed

r acist biases in Western media
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