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Why Democrats Share the Blame for the Rise of Donald Trump Print
Written by <a href="index.php?option=com_comprofiler&task=userProfile&user=9643"><span class="small">Robert Reich, Guardian UK</span></a>   
Monday, 03 February 2020 12:19

Reich writes: "I was part of a Democratic administration that failed to fix a rigged system - I know our current president is a symptom of our disunion, not its only cause."

Former Clinton Labor Secretary Robert Reich. (photo: Steve Russell/Toronto Star)
Former Clinton Labor Secretary Robert Reich. (photo: Steve Russell/Toronto Star)


Why Democrats Share the Blame for the Rise of Donald Trump

By Robert Reich, Guardian UK

03 February 20


I was part of a Democratic administration that failed to fix a rigged system – I know our current president is a symptom of our disunion, not its only cause

n impeached president who is up for re-election will this week deliver a State of the Union address to the most divided union in living memory.

But why are we so divided? We’re not fighting a hugely unpopular war on the scale of Vietnam. We’re not in a deep economic crisis like the Great Depression. Yes, we disagree about guns, gays, abortion and immigration, but we’ve disagreed about them for decades. Why are we so divided now?

Part of the answer is Trump himself. The Great Divider knows how to pit native-born Americans against immigrants, the working class against the poor, whites against blacks and Latinos, evangelicals against secularists, keeping almost everyone stirred up by vilifying, disparaging, denouncing, defaming and accusing others of the worst. Trump thrives off disruption and division.

But that begs the question of why we have been so ready to be divided by Trump. The answer derives in large part from what has happened to wealth and power.

In the fall of 2015, I visited Michigan, Wisconsin, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Kentucky, Missouri and North Carolina, for a research project on the changing nature of work. I spoke with many of the people I had met 20 years before when I was secretary of labor, as well as with some of their grown children.

What I heard surprised me. Twenty years before, many said they’d been working hard and were frustrated they weren’t doing better. Now they were angry – angry at their employers, the government, Wall Street.

Many had lost jobs, savings, or homes in the Great Recession following the financial crisis of 2008, or knew others who had. Most were back in jobs but the jobs paid no more than they had two decades before, in terms of purchasing power.

I heard the term “rigged system” so often I began asking people what they meant. They spoke about flat wages, shrinking benefits, growing job insecurity. They talked about the bailout of Wall Street, political payoffs, insider deals, soaring CEO pay, and “crony capitalism”.

These complaints came from people who identified themselves as Republicans, Democrats and independents. A few had joined the Tea Party. A few had briefly been involved in the Occupy movement.

The 2016 rebellion is ongoing

With the 2016 political primaries looming, I asked which candidates they found most attractive. At the time, the leaders of the Democratic party favored Hillary Clinton and Republican leaders favored Jeb Bush. Yet no one I spoke with mentioned Clinton or Bush.

They talked instead about Bernie Sanders and Donald Trump. When I asked why, they said Sanders or Trump would “shake things up” or “make the system work again” or “stop the corruption” or “end the rigging”.

In the following year, Sanders – a 74-year-old Jew from Vermont who described himself as a democratic socialist and wasn’t even a Democrat until the primaries – came within a whisker of beating Clinton in Iowa, routed her in New Hampshire, and ended up with 46% of the pledged delegates from Democratic primaries and caucuses.

Trump – a 69-year-old egomaniacal billionaire reality-TV star who had never held elective office or had anything to do with the Republican party and who lied compulsively about everything – won the primaries and went on to beat Clinton, one of the most experienced and well-connected politicians in modern America (although he didn’t win the popular vote, and had some help from the Kremlin).

Something very big had happened, and it wasn’t due to Sanders’ magnetism or Trump’s likeability. It was a rebellion against the establishment. That rebellion is still going on, although much of the establishment still denies it. They prefer to attribute Trump’s rise solely to racism.

Racism did play a part. But to understand why racism had such a strong impact in 2016, especially on the voting of whites without college degrees, it’s important to see what drove it. After all, racism in America dates back long before the founding of the Republic, and even modern American politicians have had few compunctions about using racism to boost their standing.

What gave Trump’s racism – as well as his hateful xenophobia, misogyny and jingoism – particular virulence was his capacity to channel the intensifying anger of the white working class into it. It is hardly the first time in history that a demagogue has used scapegoats to deflect public attention from the real causes of distress.

Democrats did nothing to change a rigged system

Aided by Fox News and an army of rightwing outlets, Trump convinced many blue-collar workers feeling ignored by Washington that he was their champion. Clinton did not convince them that she was. Her decades of public service ended up being a negative, not a positive. She was indubitably part of the establishment, the epitome of decades of policies that left these blue-collar workers in the dust. (It’s notable that during the primaries, Sanders did far better than Clinton with blue-collar voters.)

Trump galvanized millions of blue-collar voters living in communities that never recovered from the tidal wave of factory closings. He promised to bring back jobs, revive manufacturing and get tough on trade and immigration.

“We can’t continue to allow China to rape our country, and that’s what they’re doing,” he said at one rally. “In five, 10 years from now, you’re going to have a workers’ party. A party of people that haven’t had a real wage increase in 18 years, that are angry.”

Speaking at a factory in Pennsylvania in June 2016, he decried politicians and financiers who had betrayed Americans by “taking away from the people their means of making a living and supporting their families”.

Democrats had occupied the White House for 16 of the 24 years before Trump’s election, and in that time scored some important victories for working families: the Affordable Care Act, an expanded Earned Income Tax Credit and the Family and Medical Leave Act, for example. I take pride in being part of a Democratic administration during that time.

But Democrats did nothing to change the vicious cycle of wealth and power that had rigged the economy for the benefit of those at the top and undermined the working class. As Democratic pollster Stanley Greenberg concluded after the 2016 election, “Democrats don’t have a ‘white working-class’ problem. They have a ‘working class problem’ which progressives have been reluctant to address honestly or boldly.

“The fact is that Democrats have lost support with all working-class voters across the electorate.”

Clinton and Obama chose not to wrest power back from the oligarchy. Why?

In the first two years of the Bill Clinton and Barack Obama administrations, Democrats controlled both houses of Congress. Yet both Clinton and Obama advocated free trade agreements without providing millions of blue-collar workers who consequently lost their jobs any means of getting new ones that paid at least as well. Clinton pushed for Nafta and for China joining the World Trade Organization, and Obama sought to restore the “confidence” of Wall Street instead of completely overhauling the banking system.

Both stood by as corporations hammered trade unions, the backbone of the white working class. They failed to reform labor laws to allow workers to form unions with a simple up-or-down majority vote, or even to impose meaningful penalties on companies that violated labor protections. Clinton deregulated Wall Street before the crash; Obama allowed the Street to water down attempts to re-regulate it after the crash. Obama protected Wall Street from the consequences of its gambling addiction through a giant taxpayer-funded bailout, but allowed millions of underwater homeowners to drown.

Both Clinton and Obama turned their backs on campaign finance reform. In 2008, Obama was the first presidential nominee since Richard Nixon to reject public financing in his primary and general election campaigns, and he never followed up on his re-election promise to pursue a constitutional amendment overturning Citizens United vs FEC, the 2010 supreme court opinion opening wider the floodgates to big money in politics.

Although Clinton and Obama faced increasingly hostile Republican congresses, they could have rallied the working class and built a coalition to grab back power from the emerging oligarchy. Yet they chose not to. Why?

There is no longer a left or right. There is no longer a moderate ‘center’

My answer is not just hypothetical, because I directly witnessed much of it: it was because Clinton, Obama and many congressional Democrats sought the votes of the “suburban swing voter” – so-called “soccer moms” in the 1990s and affluent politically independent professionals in the 2000s – who supposedly determine electoral outcomes, and turned their backs on the working class. They also drank from the same campaign funding trough as the Republicans – big corporations, Wall Street and the very wealthy.

A direct line connects the four-decade stagnation of wages with the bailout of Wall Street, the rise of the Tea Party (and, briefly, Occupy), and the successes of Sanders and Trump in 2016. As Eduardo Porter of the New York Times notes, since 2000 Republican presidential candidates have steadily gained strength in America’s poorer counties while Democrats have lost ground. In 2016, Trump won 58% of the vote in the counties with the poorest 10% of the population. His share was 31% in the richest.

By 2016, Americans understood full well that wealth and power had moved to the top. Big money had rigged our politics. This was the premise of Sanders’s 2016 campaign. It was also central to Trump’s appeal – “I’m so rich I can’t be bought off” – although once elected he delivered everything big money wanted.

The most powerful force in American politics today continues to be anti-establishment fury at a rigged system. There is no longer a left or right. There’s no longer a moderate “center”. There’s either Trump’s authoritarian populism or democratic – small “d” – populism.

Democrats cannot defeat authoritarian populism without an agenda of radical democratic reform, an anti-establishment movement. Trump has harnessed the frustrations of at least 40% of America. Although he’s been a Trojan Horse for big corporations and the rich, giving them all they’ve wanted in tax cuts and regulatory rollbacks, the working class continues to believe he’s on their side.

Democrats must stand squarely on the side of democracy against oligarchy. They must form a unified coalition of people of all races, genders, sexualities and classes, and band together to unrig the system.

Trump is not the cause of our divided nation. He is the symptom of a rigged system that was already dividing us. It’s not enough to defeat him. We must reform the system that got us here in the first place, to ensure that no future politician will ever again imitate Trump’s authoritarian demagoguery.

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The Shame of Child Poverty in the Age of Trump Print
Written by <a href="index.php?option=com_comprofiler&task=userProfile&user=49146"><span class="small">Rajan Menon, TomDispatch</span></a>   
Monday, 03 February 2020 09:29

Menon writes: "What excuse does the United States have for its striking levels of child poverty?"

A family arrives for the Fred Jordan Mission annual back-to-school giveaway of shoes, clothing and backpacks for 3,000 homeless and underprivileged children in Los Angeles, California, October 4, 2018. (photo: Lucy Nicholson/Reuters)
A family arrives for the Fred Jordan Mission annual back-to-school giveaway of shoes, clothing and backpacks for 3,000 homeless and underprivileged children in Los Angeles, California, October 4, 2018. (photo: Lucy Nicholson/Reuters)


The Shame of Child Poverty in the Age of Trump

By Rajan Menon, TomDispatch

03 February 20

 


Formerly a pitchman for Pizza Hut and McDonald’s, he became president while eating KFC chicken and later served Wendy’s burgers to the Clemson Tigers, the national championship football team. (The board chairman of Wendy’s had contributed handsomely to his 2016 campaign.) So, honestly, how could it harm kids -- poor kids, to be specific -- to eat pizza and hamburger instead of a bunch of namby-pamby “vegetables” and “fruit” of the sort championed by the school nutrition standards Michelle Obama once sponsored? No wonder the Trump Department of Agriculture rolled out its new version of those standards for school breakfasts, lunches, and snacks on the former first lady’s birthday (to the cheers of food companies).

Hey, how about mushroom pizza? Don’t tell me that a mushroom isn’t a vegetable or that the tomato sauce on that pizza or the onion on that hamburger doesn’t qualify as healthier than hell! And they have the added advantage of being considered “more cost-efficient foods,” which, in translation, means that they lack nutrition. For the presidential deal-maker of the century (if not all eternity), what a deal this turns out to be: food companies get more, while children get less -- and yet, given the foods we’re talking about, are likely to become fatter eating them!

And childhood obesity? Much overrated as a crisis, right? After all, only 14 million American schoolchildren are considered obese at the moment. And keep in mind that, of the 30 million children who eat school meals daily, about 20 million of them are “low-income” (think: poor) and may get “more than half of their daily calories” from those meals.

Honestly, if this doesn’t sum up the Trump era so far, what does? With that in mind, let TomDispatch regular Rajan Menon take you through the grim American world of child poverty that the president and his crew, including Secretary of Agriculture Sonny Perdue, are going to make worse, even as they put more dollars in the hands of food companies (and the truly wealthy more generally). It’s a story for the ages, a genuine tale from hell.

-Tom Engelhardt, TomDispatch



he plight of impoverished children anywhere should evoke sympathy, exemplifying as it does the suffering of the innocent and defenseless. Poverty among children in a wealthy country like the United States, however, should summon shame and outrage as well. Unlike poor countries (sometimes run by leaders more interested in lining their pockets than anything else), what excuse does the United States have for its striking levels of child poverty? After all, it has the world’s 10th highest per capita income at $62,795 and an unrivalled gross domestic product (GDP) of $21.3 trillion. Despite that, in 2020, an estimated 11.9 million American kids -- 16.2% of the total -- live below the official poverty line, which is a paltry $25,701 for a family of four with two kids. Put another way, according to the Children's Defense Fund, kids now constitute one-third of the 38.1 million Americans classified as poor and 70% of them have at least one working parent -- so poverty can’t be chalked up to parental indolence.

Yes, the proportion of kids living below the poverty line has zigzagged down from 22% when the country was being ravaged by the Great Recession of 2008-2009 and was even higher in prior decades, but no one should crack open the champagne bottles just yet. The relevant standard ought to be how the United States compares to other wealthy countries. The answer: badly. It has the 11th highest child poverty rate of the 42 industrialized countries tracked by the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD). Winnow that list down to European Union states and Canada, omitting low and middle-income countries, and our child poverty rate ranks above only Spain’s. Use the poverty threshold of the OECD -- 50% of a country’s median income ($63,178 for the United States) -- and the American child poverty rate leaps to 20%.

The United States certainly doesn’t lack the means to drive child poverty down or perhaps even eliminate it. Many countries on that shorter OECD list have lower per-capita incomes and substantially smaller GDPs yet (as a UNICEF report makes clear) have done far better by their kids. Our high child-poverty rate stems from politics, not economics -- government policies that, since the 1980s, have reduced public investment as a proportion of GDP in infrastructure, public education, and poverty reduction.  These were, of course, the same years when a belief that “big government” was an obstacle to advancement took ever-deeper hold, especially in the Republican Party.  Today, Washington allocates only 9% of its federal budget to children, poor or not. That compares to a third for Americans over 65, up from 22% in 1971. If you want a single fact that sums up where we are now, inflation-adjusted per-capita spending on kids living in the poorest families has barely budged compared to 30 years ago whereas the corresponding figure for the elderly has doubled.

The conservative response to all this remains predictable: you can’t solve complex social problems like child poverty by throwing money at them. Besides, government antipoverty programs only foster dependence and create bloated bureaucracies without solving the problem. It matters little that the actual successes of American social programs prove this claim to be flat-out false. Before getting to that, however, let’s take a snapshot of child poverty in America.

Sizing Up the Problem

Defining poverty may sound straightforward, but it’s not. The government’s annual Official Poverty Measure (OPM), developed in the 1960s, establishes poverty lines by taking into account family size, multiplying the 1963 cost for a minimum food budget by three while factoring in changes in the Consumer Price Index, and comparing the result to family income. In 2018, a family with a single adult and one child was considered poor with an income below $17,308 ($20,2012 for two adults and one child, $25,465 for two adults and two children, and so on). According to the OPM, 11.8% of all Americans were poor that year.

By contrast, the Supplementary Poverty Measure (SPM), published yearly since 2011, builds on the OPM but provides a more nuanced calculus. It counts the post-tax income of families, but also cash flows from the Earned Income Tax Credit (EITC) and the Child Tax Credit (CTC), both of which help low-income households. It adds in government-provided assistance through, say, the Supplemental Nutritional Assistance Program (SNAP), Temporary Aid to Needy Families (TANF), the Children’s Health Insurance Program (CHIP), the National School Lunch Program (NSLP), Medicaid, subsidies for housing and utilities, and unemployment and disability insurance. However, it deducts costs like child care, child-support payments, and out-of-pocket medical expenses. According to the SPM, the 2018 national poverty rate was 12.8%.

Of course, neither of these poverty calculations can tell us how children are actually faring. Put simply, they’re faring worse. In 2018, 16.2% of Americans under 18 lived in families with incomes below the SPM line. And that’s not the worst of it. A 2019 National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine study commissioned by Congress found that 9% of poor children belong to families in “deep poverty” (incomes that are less than 50% of the SPM). But 36% of all American children live in poor or “near poor” families, those with incomes within 150% of the poverty line.

Child poverty also varies by race -- a lot. The rate for black children is 17.8%; for Hispanic kids, 21.7%; for their white counterparts, 7.9%. Worse, more than half of all black and Hispanic kids live in “near poor” families compared to less than a quarter of white children. Combine age and race and you’ll see another difference, especially for children under five, a population with an overall 2017 poverty rate of 19.2%.  Break those under-fives down by race, however, and here’s what you find: white kids at 15.9%, Hispanic kids at an eye-opening 25.8%, and their black peers at a staggering 32.9%.

Location matters, too. The child poverty rate shifts by state and the differences are stark. North Dakota and Utah are at 9%, for instance, while New Mexico and Mississippi are at 27% and 28%. Nineteen states have rates of 20% or more. Check out a color-coded map of geographic variations in child poverty and you’ll see that rates in the South, Southwest, and parts of the Midwest are above the national average, while rural areas tend to have higher proportions of poor families than cities. According to the Department of Agriculture, in rural America, 22% of all children and 26% of those under five were poor in 2017.

Why Child Poverty Matters

Imagine, for a moment, this scenario: a 200-meter footrace in which the starting blocks of some competitors are placed 75 meters behind the others. Barring an Olympic-caliber runner, those who started way in front will naturally win. Now, think of that as an analogy for the predicament that American kids born in poverty face through no fault of their own. They may be smart and diligent, their parents may do their best to care for them, but they begin life with a huge handicap.

As a start, the nutrition of poor children will generally be inferior to that of other kids. No surprise there, but here’s what’s not common knowledge: a childhood nutritional deficit matters for years afterwards, possibly for life. Scientific research shows that, by age three, the quality of childrens’ diets is already shaping the development of critical parts of young brains like the hippocampus and prefrontal cortex in ways that matter. That’s worth keeping in mind because four million American kids under age six were poor in 2018, as were close to half of those in families headed by single women.

Indeed, the process starts even earlier. Poor mothers may themselves have nutritional deficiencies that increase their risk of having babies with low birthweights.  That, in turn, can have long-term effects on children’s health, what level of education they reach, and their future incomes since the quality of nutrition affects brain size, concentration, and cognitive capacity. It also increases the chances of having learning disabilities and experiencing mental health problems.

Poor children are likely to be less healthy in other ways as well, for reasons that range from having a greater susceptibility to asthma to higher concentrations of lead in their blood. Moreover, poor families find it harder to get good health care. And add one more thing: in our zip-code-influenced public-school system, such children are likely to attend schools with far fewer resources than those in more affluent neighborhoods.

Our national opioid problem also affects the well-being of children in a striking fashion. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), between 2008 and 2012, a third of women in their childbearing years filled opioid-based medication prescriptions in pharmacies and an estimated 14%-22% of them were pregnant. The result: an alarming increase in the number of babies exposed to opioids in utero and experiencing withdrawal symptoms at birth, which is also known as neonatal abstinence syndrome, or NAS, in medical lingo. Its effects, a Penn State study found, include future increased sensitivity to pain and susceptibility to fevers and seizures. Between 2000 and 2014, the incidence of NAS increased by a multiple of four. In 2014, 34,000 babies were born with NAS, which, as a CDC report put it, “is equivalent to one baby suffering from opioid withdrawal born approximately every 15 minutes.” (Given the ongoing opioid crisis, it’s unlikely that things have improved in recent years.)

And the complications attributable to NAS don’t stop with birth. Though the research remains at an early stage -- the opioid crisis only began in the early 1990s -- it suggests that the ill effects of NAS extend well beyond infancy and include impaired cognitive and motor skills, respiratory ailments, learning disabilities, difficulty maintaining intellectual focus, and behavioral traits that make productive interaction with others harder.

At this point, you won’t be surprised to learn that NAS and child poverty are connected. Prescription opioid use rates are much higher for women on Medicaid, who are more likely to be poor than those with private insurance. Moreover, the abuse of, and overdose deaths from, opioids (whether obtained through prescriptions or illegally) have been far more widespread among the poor.

Combine all of this and here’s the picture: from the months before birth on, poverty diminishes opportunity, capacity, and agency and its consequences reach into adulthood. While that rigged footrace of mine was imaginary, child poverty certainly does ensure a future-rigged society. The good news (though not in Donald Trump’s America): the race to a half-decent life (or better) doesn’t have to be rigged.

It Needn’t Be this Way (But Will Be as Long as Trump Is President)

Can children born into poverty defy the odds, realize their potential, and lead fulfilling lives? Conservatives will point to stories of people who cleared all the obstacles created by child poverty as proof that the real solution is hard work. But let’s be clear: poor children shouldn’t have to find themselves on a tilted playing field from the first moments of their lives. Individual success stories aside, Americans raised in poor families do markedly less well compared to those from middle class or affluent homes -- and it doesn’t matter whether you choose college attendance, employment rates, or future household income as your measure. And the longer they live in poverty the worse the odds that they’ll escape it in adulthood; for one thing, they’re far less likely to finish high school or attend college than their more fortunate peers.

Conversely, as Harvard economist Raj Chetty and his colleagues have shown, kids’ life prospects improve when parents with low incomes are given the financial wherewithal to move to neighborhoods with higher social-mobility rates (thanks to better schools and services, including health care). As in that imaginary footrace, the starting point matters. But here the news is grim. The Social Progress Index places the United States 75th out of 149 countries in “access to quality education” and 70th in “access to quality health care” and poor kids are, of course, at a particular disadvantage.

Yet childhood circumstances can be (and have been) changed -- and the sorts of government programs that conservatives love to savage have helped enormously in that process. Child poverty plunged from 28% in 1967 to 15.6% in 2016 in significant part due to programs like Medicaid and the Food Stamp Act started in the 1960s as part of President Lyndon Johnson’s War on Poverty. Such programs helped poor families pay for housing, food, child care, and medical expenses, as did later tax legislation like the Earned Income Tax Credit and the Child Tax Credit. Our own history and that of other wealthy countries show that child poverty is anything but an unalterable reality. The record also shows that changing it requires mobilizing funds of the sort now being wasted on ventures like America’s multitrillion-dollar forever wars.

Certainly, an increase in jobs and earnings can reduce child poverty. Wall Street Journal odes to Donald Trump’s tax cuts and deregulation policies highlight the present 3.5% unemployment rate (the lowest in 60 years), a surge in new jobs, and wage growth at all levels, notably for workers with low incomes who lack college degrees. This storyline, however, omits important realities. Programs that reduce child poverty help even in years when poor or near-poor parents gain and, of course, are critical in bad times, since sooner or later booming job markets also bust. Furthermore, the magic that Trump fans tout occurred at a moment when many state and city governments were mandating increases in the minimum wage. Employers who hired, especially in heavily populated states like California, New York, Illinois, Ohio, and Michigan, had to pay more.

As for cutting child poverty, it hasn’t exactly been a presidential priority in the Trump years -- not like the drive to pass a $1.5 trillion corporate and individual income tax cut whose gains flowed mainly to the richest Americans, while inflating the budget deficit to $1 trillion in 2019, according to the Treasury Department. Then there’s that “impenetrable, powerful, beautiful wall.” Its estimated price ranges from $21 billion to $70 billion, excluding maintenance. And don’t forget the proposed extra $33 billion in military spending for this fiscal year alone, part of President Trump’s plan to boost such spending by $683 billion over the next decade.

As for poor kids and their parents, the president and congressional Republicans are beginning to slash an array of programs ranging from the Supplemental Nutritional Assistance Program to Medicaid -- $1.2 trillion worth over the next 10 years -- that have long helped struggling families and children in particular get by. The Trump administration has, for good measure, rewritten the eligibility rules for such programs in order to lower the number of people who qualify.

The supposed goal: to cut costs by reducing dependence on government. (Never mind the subsidies and tax loopholes Trump’s crew has created for corporations and the super wealthy, which add up to many billions of dollars in spending and lost revenue.) These supposedly work-ethic-driven austerity policies batter working families with young kids that, for example, desperately need childcare, which can take a big bite out of paychecks: 10% or more for all households with kids, but half in the case of poor families.  Add to that the cost of unsubsidized housing. Median monthly rent increased by nearly a third between 2001 and 2015. Put another way, rents consume more than half the income of the bottom 20% of Americans, according to the Federal Reserve. The advent of Trump has also made the struggle of low-income families with healthcare bills even harder. The number of kids without health insurance jumped by 425,000 between 2017 and 2018 when, according to the Census Bureau, 4.3 million children lacked coverage.

Even before Donald Trump’s election, only one-sixth of eligible families with kids received assistance for childcare and a paltry one-fifth got housing subsidies. Yet his administration arrived prepared to put programs that helped some of them pay for housing and childcare on the chopping block. No point in such families looking to him for a hand in the future. He won’t be building any Trump Towers for them. 

Whatever “Make America Great Again” may mean, it certainly doesn’t involve helping America’s poor kids. As long as Donald Trump oversees their race into life, they’ll find themselves ever farther from the starting line. 



Rajan Menon, a TomDispatch regular, is the Anne and Bernard Spitzer Professor of International Relations at the Powell School, City College of New York, senior research fellow at Columbia University’s Saltzman Institute of War and Peace Studies, and a non-resident fellow at the Quincy Institute for Responsible Statecraft. His latest book is The Conceit of Humanitarian Intervention.

Follow TomDispatch on Twitter and join us on Facebook. Check out the newest Dispatch Books, John Feffer’s new dystopian novel (the second in the Splinterlands series) Frostlands, Beverly Gologorsky's novel Every Body Has a Story, and Tom Engelhardt's A Nation Unmade by War, as well as Alfred McCoy's In the Shadows of the American Century: The Rise and Decline of U.S. Global Power and John Dower's The Violent American Century: War and Terror Since World War II.

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Puerto Rico's Disasters After the Earthquakes Print
Written by <a href="index.php?option=com_comprofiler&task=userProfile&user=53182"><span class="small">Monique Dols, Jacobin</span></a>   
Monday, 03 February 2020 09:29

Excerpt: "Puerto Rico has been repeatedly battered with hurricanes and, most recently, massive earthquakes. The disasters have been worsened by the government's lack of response to the earthquake's devastation - especially on the island's schools."

A girl cycles past a home that partially collapsed after an earthquake hit Guanica, Puerto Rico. (photo: Carlos Giusti/AP)
A girl cycles past a home that partially collapsed after an earthquake hit Guanica, Puerto Rico. (photo: Carlos Giusti/AP)


Puerto Rico's Disasters After the Earthquakes

By Monique Dols, Jacobin

03 February 20


Puerto Rico has been repeatedly battered with hurricanes and, most recently, massive earthquakes. The disasters have been worsened by the government’s lack of response to the earthquake’s devastation — especially on the island’s schools.

chools are starting to reopen after a 6.4 magnitude earthquake rocked Puerto Rico in the early morning hours of January 7, the day after Three Kings’ Day. Entire neighborhoods of cement structures shifted and crumbled, leaving thousands of people homeless and many more living in precarious situations. Similar to the aftermath of Hurricane Maria, the earthquakes and aftershocks in Puerto Rico are revealing the decidedly unnatural tragedies of disaster capitalism and colonialism.

And now there’s a new wave of struggle on the island calling for the resignation of government officials who have failed — yet again — to meet the needs of people who lost everything in a natural disaster. People took to the streets starting in mid-January to call for the resignation of Governor Wanda Vásquez Garced and the President of the Senate Thomas Rivera Schatz after supplies meant for victims of Hurricane Maria were found collecting dust in several warehouses.

As a part of this public outcry and call for accountability, parents and educators are denouncing the Department of Education’s (DOE) rushed inspection process that doesn’t fully certify the safety of schools. The Frente Amplio en Defensa de la Educación Pública (FADEP), a coalition of educator unions, community groups, and parent associations, is demanding that the government take the safety of school communities more seriously. Mercedes Martínez Padilla, president of the Federation of Teachers of Puerto Rico (FMPR) explains:

The authorities must understand that what we are talking about here are the lives of our students, teachers, and school personnel. Any excuse to avoid a transparent process that reflects the real state of the schools and seeks to protect the school community will constitute an act of criminal negligence .?.?. We simply will not let the experience of Hurricane Maria, in which so many people suffered and died unnecessarily, happen again.

As educators and students plan to go back to school, they are haunted by the images of the Agripina Seda School, which collapsed while students were on break for the holidays. The turquoise and cream-colored, three-story building, which is located in the southern part of the island most affected by the tremors, fell like a deck of cards, each story flattening the one under it.

According to the College of Engineers and Surveyors, the Agripina Seda School collapsed due to a cost-saving construction shortcut called a “short column” which buckles instead of bending in the case of an earthquake. Hundreds of other Puerto Rican schools have this defect and could collapse as a result of another strong earthquake.

“Our recommendation is that these structures shouldn’t be used .?.?. If this defect hasn’t been fixed yet, the structures simply shouldn’t be used under any circumstances,” Juan F. Alicea, the president of the College of Engineers and Surveyors, told Primera Hora. According to Alicea, these repairs are straightforward and can be done within six to eight weeks with the required resources.

Unfortunately, the DOE has a different plan in mind. They are paying $1,200 per school for subcontractors to conduct walk-through inspections that assess visible signs of structural damage from past earthquakes. Despite the fact that earthquakes are ongoing, and that Secretary of Education Eligio Hernández Pérez admitted in a radio interview that 95 percent of schools are not earthquake-resistant, these inspections do not look for design flaws that make the buildings vulnerable to future earthquakes.

Incredibly, the now-collapsed Agripina Seda School passed this kind of inspection the day before it collapsed. An engineer from the University of Puerto Rico in Mayagüez, José A. Martínez-Cruzado, visited the school between earthquakes, when it was still standing. In his own unofficial inspection, he identified the school’s short-column design and recommended that the school be repaired before being used again. Martínez-Cruzado explained to Metro PR how a building could pass a DOE inspection one day but fall to the ground the next:

You can inspect a structure and see if it is cracked or not, but that does not mean that in the future it can necessarily withstand a larger earthquake. If there aren’t any cracks, it means that the previous earthquake didn’t cause damage, but [based on that kind of inspection] I cannot guarantee that it can resist a bigger or future earthquake.

As educators returned to school to get ready for classes, many of them were presented with building certifications from the DOE that left many more questions open than were answered. Martínez Padilla, who has been collecting reports from schools all over the island, explained, “These certifications are a disaster, a completely botched job. There isn’t even a format that the engineers are supposed to follow. The engineers just write what they want to write, some of them are blank, some are more specific, others more general. How is this possible?”

Members of the FADEP aren’t waiting around for the DOE to do the right thing. “All faculty and personnel need at least five days of preparation and training in order to get up to speed with the new reality in schools and in order to establish and roll out protocol for the case of another emergency,” explained the president of the National Union of Educators and Education Workers (UNETE), Liza Fournier Córdova, who is also an elementary school English teacher.

This must include: first aid training; emotional support services for staff; emergency and earthquake management workshops; discussions of the specific emergency protocols in each school with their unique circumstances; a reevaluation and reworking of school structures in order to create smaller class sizes that are more manageable in the case of an emergency; a familiarization with evacuation routes and meet-up points at each campus; as well as a discussion of the walk-through inspections that were done.

Between 2017 and 2018 the DOE under twice-indicted ex–secretary of education Julia Keleher spent millions of dollars on school inspections. But the DOE is unable to provide any kind of comprehensive description of the findings of these inspections or of earlier repairs which were carried out in the early 2000s.

Keleher, who is charged with corruption, bribery, and fraud, is now under investigation for giving away school land in San Juan to a developer in exchange for an apartment in a gentrifying neighborhood that she lived in for six months for $1 a month before buying it below market value.

Keleher also closed hundreds of structurally sound schools while cramming children into inferior, overcrowded facilities. The Luis Muñoz Rivera School in Dorado is still shuttered despite having been the only tsunami-ready structure in its coastal neighborhood. The FMPR, along with community groups, is demanding that the school and others like it be reevaluated and, if it is confirmed to be earthquake-resistant, reopened immediately.

The FADEP has requested meetings with representatives of the House and the Senate, the secretary of education, as well as Carlos Pesquera, the engineer who advises the governor, in order to present and discuss their concerns. To date, they have received no response despite the in-depth proposals that they crafted with engineers and experts in the field.

The inspections and repairs that the FADEP is calling for may take longer and cost more money. But in Puerto Rico, where there is a severe economic crisis, high unemployment, low wages, and a very high cost of living, there is also a fight underway over where the vast resources of society should be spent.

Since the imposition of the PROMESA act under President Obama, Puerto Rico has been pressured to prioritize paying the debt over investment in public services. This has had a devastating impact on many sectors including health, communication, electrical, as well as education. The attacks on working people have also created a backlash and a resurgence of struggle which hold the promise of a different future for Puerto Rico, one in which the needs of ordinary people are prioritized over profits.

“The problem is a lack of transparency, not a lack of funds,” twelfth-grade physics teacher Hugo J Delgado-Martí told me. “As we saw with the ex–secretary of education Julia Keleher and the government of Ricardo Rosselló, the money was always there for the subcontractors, the privatization schemes, and the buying and selling of political favors. We have seen [in this most recent government scandal] that the government could spend $10,000 a month to warehouse supplies which were supposed to be distributed after Hurricane Maria. There’s an unlimited budget for repression, but when it comes to financing our schools they claim bankruptcy.”

“We can’t be trembling with fear and anguish every time the earth shakes out of fear that our children’s school might collapse,” science teacher Anés Cedeño Soto told me. “This is about prioritizing the lives of the people, of our children. The life of any Puerto Rican child is worth more than any amount of money in the world.”

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Brexit: 'It's Breaking My Heart' Print
Written by   
Sunday, 02 February 2020 14:58

le Carré writes: "Reading and thinking about Palme makes you wonder who you are. And who you might have been, but weren't. And where your moral courage went when it was needed."

John le Carré at a pro-EU rally, Parliament Square, London, in October 2019. (photo: Sean Smith/Guardian UK)
John le Carré at a pro-EU rally, Parliament Square, London, in October 2019. (photo: Sean Smith/Guardian UK)


Brexit: 'It's Breaking My Heart'

By John le Carré, Guardian UK

02 February 20


This week the novelist received the Olof Palme prize for achievement in the spirit of the assassinated Swedish statesman. He reflects on how a lack of leadership today has allowed us to ‘sleepwalk’ into Brexit

range of emotions, not all of them beautiful, passed through my head at the moment when I was offered the Olof Palme prize.

I am not a hero. I am a fraud. I am being offered a medal for another man’s gallantry. Decline.

I am not a frontline advocate for truth or human rights. I have not suffered for my writing. I have been handsomely rewarded for it.

Neither did I feel myself the equal of any of the three writers who have preceded me at this rostrum: Václav Havel, whom I briefly knew and revered, and the intrepid Roberto Saviano, both of whom in separate ways became martyrs to their work. And Carsten Jensen, writer on world conflict and sharer of its anguish.

If I wanted further proof of my inadequacy, I had only to listen to Daniel Ellsberg’s moving speech at this same rostrum just a year ago. Why didn’t I ever copy secret documents and stop a war?

It was only when I set out to explore the life and work of Olof Palme, and entered his spell, and discovered that same affinity with him that Ellsberg had so eloquently described, that it seemed just possible I might not be quite such a bad fit after all.

Reading and thinking about Palme makes you wonder who you are. And who you might have been, but weren’t. And where your moral courage went when it was needed. You ask yourself what power drove him – golden boy, aristocratic family, brilliant scion of the best schools and the best cavalry regiment – to embrace from the outset of his career the cause of the exploited, the deprived, the undervalued and the unheard?

Was there, somewhere in his early life, as there is in the lives of other men and women of his calibre, some defining moment of inner anger and silent purpose? As a child he was sickly, and partly educated at home. He has the feel of a loner. Did his school peers get under his skin: their sense of entitlement, their contempt for the lower orders, their noise, their vulgarity and artlessness? Mine did. And no one is easier to hate than a contemptible version of oneself.

Graham Greene remarked that a novelist needed a chip of ice in his heart. Was there a chip of ice in Palme’s heart? He may not have been a novelist, but there was art in him, and a bit of the actor. He knew that you can’t make great causes stick without political power. And for political power, you definitely need a chip or two of ice.

The United States did not take lightly in those days, any more than it does now, being held to account by a nation it dismisses as tin-pot. And Sweden was a particularly irritating tin-pot nation, because it was European, articulate, cultured, rich, and white. But Palme loved being the irritant. Relished it. Relished being the outsider voice, the one that refuses to be categorised, the one that shouldn’t be in the room at all. It brought out the best in him.

And now and then, I have to say, it does the same for me.

It’s a long time since my post box contained estate agents’ brochures for deep shelters in the Nevada desert. You entered by way of a tumbledown shack, designed to look like an abandoned outside loo. An elevator swept you 200ft underground to a luxury apartment where you could hold out till Armageddon was safely over and normal services were resumed. And when the all clear was sounded and you came up the escalator, the only people left would be your rich friends and the Swiss.

So why isn’t the threat of nuclear war today as present or terrifying to us as it was in Palme’s day? Is it simply that the nuclear threat is so ubiquitous, so diffuse and irrational? North Korea? Isis? Iran? Russia? China? Or today’s White House with its born-again evangelists dreaming of the Rapture? Better to invest our existential fears in things we understand: bushfires, melting icebergs, and the uncomfortable truths of Greta Thunberg.

But the cold war was anything but irrational. It was two players facing each other across a nuclear chessboard. And for all their clever spying, neither knew the first thing about the other.

I try to imagine how it was for Palme in those times: the shuttle diplomacy, the tireless reasoning with people locked into their positions and scared of their superiors. I was the lowest form of spy life, but even I got wind of contingency plans for outright nuclear war. If you are in Berlin or Bonn when the Russian tanks sweep over you, be sure to destroy your files first. First? What was second? And I doubt whether your chances would have been much rosier in Stockholm.

In Berlin, in August 1961, I look on as coils of Russian barbed wire are unrolled across the Friedrichstrasse checkpoint, otherwise known as Checkpoint Charlie. Intermittently, in the days that follow, I watch the Wall go up, one concrete block at a time. Do I lift a finger? No one did. And maybe that was the worst part of it: the oppressive sense of your own irrelevance.

But Palme refused to be irrelevant. He would make himself heard if it killed him, and perhaps in the end it did.

It’s October 1962 and Cuban crisis time. I am a junior diplomat at the British embassy in Bonn and I have just moved into a new hiring beside the river Rhine. German decorators are painting the walls. It’s a sunny autumn and I think I must have been on leave because I am sitting in the garden writing.

The blare of the builders’ transistor radio is drowned by the din of passing barges, until suddenly it is belting out the news of Kennedy’s ultimatum to Khrushchev: “Turn back your missiles, Mr Chairman, or your country and mine will be at war” – or words to that effect. The painters politely excuse themselves, wash their brushes, and go home to be with their families at world’s end. I drive to the embassy in case there’s work to be done. There isn’t. So I drive home again and continue writing The Spy Who Came in from the Cold.

So what was Palme doing while the Soviet fleet continued on its way to Cuba and the world waited dry-mouthed to see who blinked first? Until I knew better, I pictured him sitting head in hands in some lonely place, despairing. I am a failed peacemaker. My mediations have been in vain. If the world ends, it’s all my fault.

But he had no time for that stuff. He was in Stockholm, pressing for educational reform, bumping up Sweden’s international aid budget and picking up the pieces after Stig Wennerström, a senior Swedish air force officer, was exposed as a Soviet spy. And that’s something that’s too easy to forget about Palme the diplomat for world peace and nuclear disarmament: he had a country to run.

Spying? Palme? There’s been a lot of talk about it. As a young intern in Swedish intelligence, he had acquired an early taste for the black arts and it stayed with him for the rest of his political life. And who can blame him? When you’re defending yourself on half a dozen home fronts; when you’re sitting out the night on tedious committees; when a far right mob of hooligans is burning your effigy in the street and chucking darts at pictures of your face, what greater relief than to settle down comfortably with your spies and give yourself over to the consolations of intrigue?

And I am not at all surprised that in the midst of excoriating the Americans for the Vietnam war, Palme the pragmatist was reading secret American intelligence reports. After all, he had a country to protect.

Palme never saw the cold war end, but he experienced its worst years. And by the close of his life they had left their mark: testiness, distraction, impatience, battle fatigue. You only have to look at the last photographs to read the signs. You only have to hear the barely controlled anger breaking through his voice when he reads his statement on the bombing of Hanoi. I hear nervous advisers begging him not to use the forbidden G-word, genocide.

They wore you out, those American nuclear warriors. I have a particularly unpleasant memory – and maybe so had Palme – of the US government’s twenty-something defence analysts who lived on rock music and Coca-Cola while they calculated to the last half-million or so how many of us would be turned to ash in a first strike.

It was their air of superiority that got to me, the “we know better than you do about how you’re going to die”. I just couldn’t warm to them. Did Palme have business with their Russian counterparts? I guess they were much the same.

And sometimes it was the sheer decency and good manners of Washington’s top warriors that wore you down. Good family men, I remember. Really decent people: touch football with their kids on Saturdays, church on Sundays. I met a few. And so, I’m sure, did Palme. Well, they’d concede, they did do insomnia a bit. A nervous breakdown here and there, the odd broken marriage. And kids traumatised by what they picked up from the table talk, but that was just parental carelessness.

And Palme the determined non-combatant walked among them. Politely. Lawyer to lawyer. Man to man. And be sure never to mention the G-word, genocide.

As I continue to read and think my way through Palme’s life, my sense of kinship becomes possessive. I want a Palme for my country, which in my lifetime hasn’t produced a single statesman of his stamp. I want him now. I’m not just a remainer. I’m a European through and through, and the rats have taken over the ship, I want to tell him. It’s breaking my heart and I want it to break yours. We need your voice to wake us from our sleepwalk, and save us from this wanton act of political and economic self-harm. But you’re too late.

If Johnson and his Brexiteers had their way, it would be declared St Brexit’s Day. Church bells across the land would peal out the gladsome tidings from every tower. And good men of England would pause their stride and doff their caps in memory of Dunkirk, the Battle of Britain, Trafalgar, and mourn the loss of our great British empire. Empires don’t die just because they’re dead.

We Brits are all nationalists now. Or so Johnson would have us believe. But to be a nationalist you need enemies and the shabbiest trick in the Brexiteers’ box was to make an enemy of Europe. “Take back control!” they cried, with the unspoken subtext: and hand it to Donald Trump, along with our foreign policy, our economic policy, our health service and, if they can get away with it, our BBC.

So Boris Johnson with our blessing has taken his place beside two other accomplished liars of our time: Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin. If Palme were trying to get the truth out of them, which of the three would he turn to? Or none of the above?

One day somebody will explain to me why it is that, at a time when science has never been wiser, or the truth more stark, or human knowledge more available, populists and liars are in such pressing demand.

But don’t blame the Tories for their great victory. It was Jeremy Corbyn’s Labour party, with its un-policy on Brexit, its antisemitism and student-level Marxism-Leninism that alienated traditional Labour voters and left them nowhere to go. They looked to the left and didn’t recognise their leader. They looked to the centre and there was nobody there. They were sick of Brexit and sick of politics, and probably as sick of Johnson’s voice as I was. So they pinched their noses and voted for the least worst option. And actually, who can blame them?

Palme hated war, but I don’t know how much of it he actually saw. A little goes a long way. Or it did for me.

My first cautious glimpse came when I visited Cambodia shortly before the American defeat. Forty years earlier, Palme had toured Southeast Asia and seen for himself the disastrous effect of French, British and American colonialism. By the time I got there, the disaster was wholly American-owned.

Phnom Penh is encircled. The taxi driver charges $30 to take you to the frontline. You want shooting? he asks. Yes, please, I want shooting. He parks, you walk the rest of the way. You get shot at and return to your taxi. On the road back through town to the hotel, children sit on the pavement selling bottles of petrol siphoned from abandoned cars.

At the edge of Phnom Penh an artillery battery is providing covering fire for an infantry attack against the invisible jungle enemy. Deafened by gunfire, children huddle round the guns, each waiting for his father to come back. They know that if he doesn’t, his commanding officer will pocket his pay instead of reporting him dead.

I’m in Sidon, South Lebanon, house guest of the Palestinian chief of fighters, Salah Tamari. He takes me on a tour of the children’s hospital. A boy with his legs blown off gives me the thumbs up. Another dreams of going to university in Havana once he’s got his eyesight back. Palme had three sons, I had four. Maybe we had the same nightmares.

Which reminds me. As things stand, one of the first acts of Johnson’s post-Brexit government will be to deny child refugees the right to be reunited with their parents in Britain.

How would Palme have responded to today’s Orwellian lie machines that would have made Joseph Goebbels blush as they wear down our decency, our common sense, and drive us to question incontestable truths?

The last splinters of Jamal Khashoggi have, we assume, been swept under the carpet of the Saudi consulate in Istanbul. The culprits have freely confessed that they acted on impulse. They just went a bit wild, the way boys do. The Crown Prince is shocked. The rest is fake news. No bone saw, no screams, no Khashoggi lookalike walking out of the consulate wearing the wrong shoes.

So here’s a question. If Palme were Sweden’s prime minister today, and Sweden had a fat arms deal running with Saudi Arabia, which way would he jump? Would he take a sensible, relaxed British view and say, look here, for heaven’s sake, let’s stop moaning and get on with the next shipment, they’re Arabs and they’ve got a war to feed? Or would he – as I want to believe – tell his arms industry: whatever it costs, just bloody well stop.

I don’t know whether Palme read me – you’d be amazed how many people haven’t. What I do know is that, quite soon after I began reading my way through his life, and the causes that inspired him, it seemed to me that every book I had written was some sort of unconscious footstep along his path.

My leading character, and the one I am best known for, is George Smiley. Smiley was recruited to the Secret Service in his early youth, as I was, and for all his earnest excursions into 17th-century German literature, at heart he knew no other world than the secret one. Throughout his long professional life he was besieged by moral doubt. When I was asked to draw a picture of him, I drew a lonely man carrying his horse uphill – an image that might have won a weary smile of recognition from Palme.

Smiley and I have history together. Sixty years of it. When I took a new direction, Smiley followed me. And sometimes Smiley knew the way better than I did and I followed him, which is what happens when you invent a character who is smarter than you are.

Here is Smiley in 1979, when the cold war looked as though it would last forever. With exemplary tradecraft, he has lured his Soviet adversary, codename Karla, across the Berlin Wall. He has done this by exploiting a character defect, as we liked to call it, in this otherwise impenetrable communist diehard. The character defect in question is love: a father’s love for his mentally sick daughter. In defiance of every rule in the KGB handbook, Karla has spirited his beloved daughter to a Swiss sanatorium under a false name, and Smiley has used this knowledge to blackmail him. And now here Karla comes, Soviet zealot, loving father, defector, across the Glienicke Bridge from East to West Berlin.

“George, you won,” says Peter Guillam, Smiley’s loyal disciple.

“Did I? Yes. Yes, well I suppose I did,” Smiley replies.

Palme would have shared his self-disgust.

When the cold war ended and the western world was still congratulating itself, Smiley felt betrayed, and so did I. And Palme would have felt betrayed, if he had lived long enough. Where was the promised peace we had all been waiting for? Where was the Great Vision? The reconciliation? The nuclear disarmament treaty that Palme had been tirelessly working for? Where was the Marshall Plan that would pull battered nations off their knees? And above all, where was the voice of hope and renewal? Is it too fanciful to imagine that, had he lived, Palme might have supplied that voice?

Here is Smiley in 1990, one year after the Wall came down and four years after Palme’s death: “One day, history may tell us who really won. If a democratic Russia emerges – why, then Russia will have been the winner. And if the West chokes on its own materialism, then the West may still turn out to be the loser.”

I see Palme nodding.

And here is Smiley in great age – he was always older than me, a father figure – still hunting for the answer to a question that has haunted him all his life: did I compromise my humanity to the point where I lost it altogether?

“We were not pitiless, Peter,” he insists to his same disciple. “We were never pitiless. We had the larger pity. Arguably it was misplaced. Certainly it was futile. We know that now. But we did not know it then.”

But in my imagination I hear Palme vigorously object: “That is an unsound, self-serving argument that could equally well apply to any monstrous act perpetrated in the name of democracy.”

I see a sharp, swift face. Restless eyes, sometimes hooded. Smiles real and forced. A face that struggles for forbearance in the presence of lesser minds, vulnerable, watchful, and precious in the way we imagine young poets to be. The precise voice barely falters even when its owner is on fire. I feel an unbearable impatience burning in him, caused by seeing and feeling more clearly and faster than anybody else in the room.

I would have been nervous to engage him in argument because he would have made rings round me even when I was right. But I never met him. I can only hear him and watch him and read him. The rest is catch-up.

The last speech of his life was to the United Nations in 1985: an unsuccessful appeal to ban the use of nuclear weapons under international law. Thirty years on, the Swedish government voted for just such a ban. Now called upon to reaffirm their vote, they have postponed their decision under American pressure. The issue is back on the table. We shall see.

How would Palme wish to be remembered? Well, by this for a start. For his life, not his death. For his humanism, courage, and the breadth and completeness of his humanist vision. As the voice of truth in a world hell-bent on distorting it. By the inspiring, inventive enterprises undertaken yearly by young people in his name.

Is there anything I would like to add to his epitaph? A line by May Sarton that he would have enjoyed: One must think like a hero to behave like a merely decent human being.

And how would I like to be remembered? As the man who won the 2019 Olof Palme prize will do me just fine.

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A Trump Acquittal Could Have Profound Ramifications for Future Presidents Print
Written by <a href="index.php?option=com_comprofiler&task=userProfile&user=23468"><span class="small">Philip Rucker, The Washington Post</span></a>   
Sunday, 02 February 2020 14:51

Rucker writes: "The evidence of President Trump's actions to pressure Ukraine was never in serious dispute. After a systematic presentation of the facts of the case, even some Senate Republicans concluded that what he did was wrong."

The Oval Office. (photo: Saul Loeb/AFP/Getty Images)
The Oval Office. (photo: Saul Loeb/AFP/Getty Images)


A Trump Acquittal Could Have Profound Ramifications for Future Presidents

By Philip Rucker, The Washington Post

02 February 20

 

he evidence of President Trump’s actions to pressure Ukraine was never in serious dispute. After a systematic presentation of the facts of the case, even some Senate Republicans concluded that what he did was wrong.

But neither was the verdict of Trump’s impeachment trial ever in doubt. The Senate’s jurors are scheduled to etch an almost-certain acquittal into the historical record on Wednesday.

The impending judgment that the president’s actions do not warrant his removal from office serves as a testament to Washington’s extraordinary partisan divide and to Trump’s uncontested hold on the Republican base. The expected acquittal also has profound and long-term ramifications for America’s institutions and the balance of power between the executive and legislative branches, according to numerous historians and legal experts.

In effect, they say, the Senate is lowering the bar for permissible conduct for future presidents.

“It’s a dispiriting moment for an American system that in many ways was founded on the insight that, because humankind is frail and fallen and fallible, no one branch of government can have too much power,” said Jon Meacham, an American historian and author. “The president’s party, instead of being a check on an individual’s impulses and ambitions, has become an instrument of them.”

Since the moment House Democrats opened their impeachment inquiry last September, Trump has projected a sense of persecution and self-pity. He called the effort a coup to overthrow him and defraud the results of the 2016 election.

Again and again, Trump proclaimed on Twitter, “READ THE TRANSCRIPT!” — though the notes from his July 25 call with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky did not seem to exonerate him. Rather, the notes made plain Trump’s scheme to get Ukraine to open an investigation into former vice president Joe Biden and his son Hunter Biden.

With Trump commanding such exceptionally high approval ratings among Republican voters, however, even senators who acknowledged his actions were wrong voted Friday to block new evidence in the trial and pave the way for acquittal.

One of Democrats’ great hopes to permit fresh testimony from firsthand witnesses, including former national security adviser John Bolton, had been Sen. Lamar Alexander (R-Tenn.), a self-described institutionalist who is retiring and would not have to face the wrath of the GOP’s pro-Trump base.

But Alexander demurred. Although he said Trump’s actions were “inappropriate” and had “already been proven” by House impeachment managers, the senator from Tennessee said there was “no need for more evidence” and that he believed Trump’s conduct did not meet the Constitution’s standard of “treason, bribery, or other high crimes and misdemeanors” for an impeachable offense.

“Let the people decide,” Alexander said in a lengthy statement Thursday explaining his position.

Another Republican seen as a possible supporter for permitting witness testimony, Sen. Lisa Murkowski of Alaska, also came down against doing so. Although she did not comment specifically on Trump’s actions with Ukraine, she faulted the overall impeachment process as too partisan and unfair.

“I don’t believe the continuation of this process will change anything,” Murkowski said in a statement. “It is sad for me to admit that, as an institution, the Congress has failed.”

Only two Republicans — Sens. Mitt Romney of Utah and Susan Collins of Maine — voted to allow additional testimony, two votes shy of the threshold required for the measure to pass. And with next week’s final impeachment vote requiring a two-thirds majority to convict the president, the outcome seems preordained.

“This impeachment was a fait accompli at all times,” said Bill Whalen, a fellow at the conservative Hoover Institution at Stanford University. “You talk to congressional Republicans and there’s a feeling that the president is being persecuted, that impeachment was a conviction in search of a crime.”

William A. Galston, chair of the Brookings Institution’s Governance Studies Program, said acquittal “was not only perfectly predictable, but in my judgment, completely inevitable.”

“The United States political scene is as deeply polarized along partisan lines as it has been for at least a century,” Galston added. Noting Trump’s high ratings among Republican voters, he said, “It would take a very brave Republican indeed to break ranks with the president under these circumstances.”

This is not the first instance in which Trump has skirted penalties for wielding the powers of his office for personal or political gain. Former special counsel Robert S. Mueller III found that the president repeatedly worked to block or thwart the Russia investigation, acts to obstruct justice that would have prompted charges were he not a sitting president. But Trump sidestepped any punishment then, just as he appears to now with Ukraine.

One of the president’s lawyers, Alan Dershowitz, proffered a sweeping argument on the floor of the Senate last week that Trump using the powers of his office to pressure Ukraine to open a corruption investigation into the Bidens was not impeachable or illegal because it was done in pursuit of his reelection.

“If a president does something which he believes will help him get elected in the public interest, that cannot be the kind of quid pro quo that results in impeachment,” Dershowitz said during the trial.

In the face of stinging criticism from constitutional scholars and legal experts, Dershowitz said later on Twitter that his comments were being mischaracterized. “A president seeking re-election cannot do anything he wants,” Dershowitz wrote. “He is not above the law.”

Still, Dershowitz’s argument was persuasive for some Republican senators looking for arguments with which to defend Trump irrespective of what the evidence showed.

“Let’s say it’s true, okay? Dershowitz last night explained that if you’re looking at it from a constitutional point of view, that that is not something that is impeachable,” Sen. Mike Braun (R-Ind.) told reporters.

Timothy Naftali, a historian at New York University and former director of the Richard Nixon Presidential Library and Museum, said the arguments advanced on Trump’s behalf in the Senate trial could have lasting consequences for the future of presidential power.

“The Republicans have embraced a theory that permits future abuses of power,” Naftali said. “The outcome of acquittal was predictable .?.?. but I’m afraid that this process in the Senate is more enabling of an abusive president than expected.”

The nation’s founders gave Congress oversight responsibilities and powers of impeachment as a check on the executive. Yet, with this week’s likely acquittal of Trump, Meacham argues, the Senate instead has become a tool in the president’s perpetuation of his own power.

“It is not hyperbolic to say that the Republican Party treats Donald Trump more like a king than a president,” Meacham said. “That was a central and consuming anxiety of the framers. It is a remarkable thing to watch the party of Lincoln and Eisenhower and Reagan and the Bushes become an instrument of Donald Trump’s. That’s a massive historical story.”

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