Trump not invited to Thanksgiving
When members of our extended family gathered for our annual Thanksgiving dinner, there was one notable attendee and one notable absentee.
The notable attendee was my newest granddaughter, 28 days old that day and named for Esther, the biblical hero who saved ancient Persia from the tyranny of an earlier age. The absentee was Donald Trump, any discussion of the president having been banned for the second straight year in the interest of family unity.
Like many other families, ours has its political divisions, though we’re hardly evenly divided. It’s a particular problem here in Washington, where politics is the lifeblood of discourse, especially in a household headed by two journalists.
In seeking to avoid political discourse, we’re right in tune with the majority of the country, according to a recent Pew Research Center survey. It showed that more than half of Americans say talking about politics with those with whom they disagree is stressful and frustrating, and the frustration is slightly higher among Democrats than Republicans.
Such attitudes are hardly surprising, given Trump’s continuing efforts to divide, rather than unite, the country. Since the election, his attacks have escalated against the press and expanded to include both Democrats and Republicans who he charges didn’t “embrace” him, though they helped enact his policies. He even attacked a nonpolitical military hero, Adm. William McRaven, who criticized his efforts to demonize the press.
Trump’s most recent outbursts followed a campaign in which he tried to scare voters by warning of a nonexistent invasion threat. He even complained when his tactics were overshadowed by three ugly real-life events—bomb threats against top Democrats, a racial killing in a grocery store, the horrific massacre of Jewish worshippers in a synagogue— in which perpetrators expressed support for Trump’s policies. While only those who performed these acts bear responsibility for them, they reflect the way Trump’s words and actions have unleashed American society’s underlying forces of darkness.
Equating the ugly Charlottesville demonstrators with their targets, refusing to reject the support of racists like David Duke and making blatant appeals to white nationalists—it all recalls the ugliness of civil rights opponents I witnessed firsthand as a reporter in New Orleans nearly 60 years ago.
That negativity was substantially offset because the country’s bipartisan leadership, in Congress and the White House, stood up for law, order and civil rights. President Dwight D. Eisenhower, a Republican, protected Little Rock’s court-ordered desegregation, as did President John F. Kennedy, a Democrat, at the universities of Alabama and Mississippi.
Republican Rep. William McCulloch of Ohio and Republican Sen. Everett Dirksen of Illinois were full partners with Democratic congressional leaders in enacting the landmark Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965.
Unfortunately, that unity no longer exists, largely because too many Republicans forswore civil rights enforcement and acquiesced in Trump’s assaults on such basic American institutions as the judicial system, electoral system and free press.
Perhaps election losses will encourage more to recognize that this is neither right nor politically wise. Unfortunately, the most openly anti-Trump Republicans in Congress either lost or retired, facing rejection by a Trump-dominated GOP.
Death stilled the most eloquent Republican voice against the damage Trump is doing to the country’s institutions and its psyche, Sen. John McCain. Hopefully, Utah’s newly elected senator, Mitt Romney, who presciently criticized Trump’s temperament and judgment in 2016, will assume McCain’s role.
Meanwhile, it’s easy to see why the adversarial coverage all presidents receive so frustrates Trump. It’s a far cry from the days when the tabloid press celebrated him as a New York man-about-town who provided its stock-in-trade: controversial celebrity headlines. He could pressure publications to kill critical stories, and no one cared if he lied.
Making women and minorities his chief targets echoes the racist underpinnings of his campaign and presidency. Jim Acosta, the sometimes overly aggressive CNN correspondent whose press pass was suspended, is the son of a Cuban immigrant. American Urban Radio’s April Ryan, whom he denounced as “such a loser,” is African-American, as is CNN’s Abby Phillip, whom he berated for asking “a lot of stupid questions.” PBS’ Yamiche Alcindor, whom he accused of asking “a racist question,” is the child of Haitian immigrants.
This all contributes to an atmosphere where political discussions quickly turn confrontational. They’re a good thing to avoid on the day we give thanks for the blessings that this country has provided to all of us, whether native-born, immigrants or the children of immigrants.