They just evaporated. And with reason.
McCain's Last Black Votes
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They just evaporated. And with reason.
"You want it to be so real-looking that heads turn and say, 'Oh what a beautiful baby, can I hold it?'"
The Kerner Report confronted a tense nation with data about structural racism throughout the country and made recommendations to solve the problem. But America looked away.
“All of us, as Americans, should be troubled by these shootings, because these are not isolated incidents,” said President Barack Obama following the horrific shootings of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile. “They’re symptomatic of a broader set of racial disparities that exist in our criminal-justice system.” In an American tragedy of the nation’s own making, Obama will end his historic presidency with racial turmoil rocking the nation. The person whose election brought so much hope about the trajectory of race relations in the United States, a country that has perpetually suffered from the original sin of slavery, is spending these days desperately trying to calm the anger over police killings of African Americans and the protests and violence that have ensued.
One veteran officer speaks from the heart, on the intersection of race and policing.
In the hours following the shooting death of five police officers in Dallas during an otherwise peaceful demonstration, opinions blared from social media, televisions, and newspaper front pages. In the din of it all, I reached out to the retired police chief Donald Grady II, who served as chief in Santa Fe, New Mexico, among other cities, and also trained police forces abroad in managing racial and ethnic strife among the ranks and with civilians. His 36 years on the force, as a black American, were marked by some familiar tensions and themes—racial targeting, police brutality, unwarranted hostility, lack of cooperation, and mutual paranoia. In a candid and expansive conversation, Grady unpacked for me some of the complexities of wearing a blue uniform while living in brown skin. An edited version of our conversation follows.
The presumptive nominee is making almost no progress on unifying the party he purportedly leads.
With just over two weeks to go before the Republican National Convention, there’s no sign that Donald Trump has made progress on unifying the party he purportedly leads.
The last two weeks have shown that while Trump is able to pick up a few supporters, he’s not making serious inroads among the holdouts who have so far refused to back him. Wisconsin Governor Scott Walker’s July 6 announcement that he’s backing Trump is an outlier, and even that is almost comedically tepid—he didn’t deign to use Trump’s name in a tweet. Meanwhile, there’s been a steady list of prominent conservatives coming out against him. One pattern that emerges is that the people backing Trump tend to be non-elected officials, some of them retired and others in politics-adjacent fields, like leaders of conservative Christian groups. Among officeholders, however, Trump is losing ground or stuck in neutral—perhaps an indication of how electorally toxic he is, or perhaps a reflection of deep misgivings about the lack of organization and fundraising on his campaign so far.
The American Dream is alive and well—in Northern Europe.
If the U.S. presidential campaign has made one thing clear, it’s this: The United States is not Finland. Nor is it Norway. This might seem self-evident. But America’s Americanness has had to be reaffirmed ever since Bernie Sanders suggested that Americans could learn something from Nordic countries about reducing income inequality, providing people with universal health care, and guaranteeing them paid family and medical leave.
“I think Bernie Sanders is a good candidate for president … of Sweden,” Marco Rubio scoffed. “We don’t want to be Sweden. We want to be the United States of America.”
“We are not Denmark,” Hillary Clinton clarified. “We are the United States of America. … [W]hen I think about capitalism, I think about all the small businesses that were started because we have the opportunity and the freedom in our country for people to do that and to make a good living for themselves and their families.”
The State Department is reopening its investigation into Hillary Clinton’s emails, just as she puts a Justice Department investigation behind her.
Hillary Clinton is out of the frying pan and into the fire. On July 6, Attorney General Loretta Lynch announced that the Justice Department would not pursue criminal charges against the presumptive Democratic presidential nominee for her use of a private email server at the State Department. But the following day, with that criminal investigation closed, the State Department reopened its own probe into the emails, the AP reported.
State Department spokesman John Kirby told the AP that it would be looking at potential mishandling of classified information by Hillary Clinton and her top aides. Former officials could face administrative sanctions, including a loss of their security clearances—a step that would be both politically embarrassing for Clinton, and complicate efforts to staff a national-security team should she prevail in November.
Amid the civil-rights protests, riots, and unrest of the 1960s, Richard Nixon found his way to the White House. Now Donald Trump is taking a page from his playbook.
A lone white woman walks down an empty city block in the middle of the night clutching her purse. It’s pitch black, and the only sounds that can be heard are the clacking of her sensible heels, the sound of implied danger, and Richard Nixon’s voice. He delivers terrifying crime statistics and a call to action. This woman, her body, and her livelihood are under threat.
“Crimes of violence in the United States have almost doubled in recent years,” Nixon says. “Today, a violent crime is committed every 60 seconds. A robbery every two-and-a-half minutes. A mugging every six minutes. A murder every 43 minutes … And it will get worse unless we take the offensive. Freedom from fear is a basic right of every American. We must restore it.”
“Photography is a form of power, and people are loath to give up power, including police officers.”
First of all, they shouldn’t ask.
“As a basic principle, we can’t tell you to stop recording,” says Delroy Burton, chairman of D.C.’s metropolitan police union and a 21-year veteran on the force. “If you’re standing across the street videotaping, and I’m in a public place, carrying out my public functions, [then] I’m subject to recording, and there’s nothing legally the police officer can do to stop you from recording.”
“What you don’t have a right to do is interfere,” he says. “Record from a distance, stay out of the scene, and the officer doesn’t have the right to come over and take your camera, confiscate it.”
Officers do have a right to tell you to stop interfering with their work, Burton told me, but they still aren’t allowed to destroy film.
It happened gradually—and until the U.S. figures out how to treat the problem, it will only get worse.
It’s 2020, four years from now. The campaign is under way to succeed the president, who is retiring after a single wretched term. Voters are angrier than ever—at politicians, at compromisers, at the establishment. Congress and the White House seem incapable of working together on anything, even when their interests align. With lawmaking at a standstill, the president’s use of executive orders and regulatory discretion has reached a level that Congress views as dictatorial—not that Congress can do anything about it, except file lawsuits that the divided Supreme Court, its three vacancies unfilled, has been unable to resolve.
On Capitol Hill, Speaker Paul Ryan resigned after proving unable to pass a budget, or much else. The House burned through two more speakers and one “acting” speaker, a job invented following four speakerless months. The Senate, meanwhile, is tied in knots by wannabe presidents and aspiring talk-show hosts, who use the chamber as a social-media platform to build their brands by obstructing—well, everything. The Defense Department is among hundreds of agencies that have not been reauthorized, the government has shut down three times, and, yes, it finally happened: The United States briefly defaulted on the national debt, precipitating a market collapse and an economic downturn. No one wanted that outcome, but no one was able to prevent it.
Chief David Brown says officers used a device equipped with a bomb to kill a suspect, a perhaps unprecedented move that raises new questions about use of lethal force.
In the mourning over the murders of five police officers in Dallas, and relief that the standoff had ended, one unusual detail stuck out: the manner in which police killed one suspect after negotiations failed.
“We saw no other option but to use our bomb robot and place a device on its extension for it to detonate where the suspect was,” Chief David Brown said in a press conference Friday morning. “Other options would have exposed our officers to grave danger. The suspect is deceased … He’s been deceased because of a detonation of the bomb.”
That use of a robot raises questions about the way police adopt and use new technologies. While many police forces have adopted robots—or, more accurately, remote-controlled devices—for uses like bomb detonation or delivery of non-lethal force like tear gas, using one to kill a suspect is at least highly unusual and quite possibly unprecedented.
Why should any of us expect people who have suffered profound trauma to relive it for our benefit?
Elie Wiesel made it look so easy. I’m not referring to the profoundly beautiful troubling words that spilled from his pen and pricked the conscience of millions around the world. And I don’t mean the way that his speaking voice had a quiet depth of emotion, somehow more powerful because of its subdued tone. His galvanizing talents and moral courage have been lauded by many writers in the days since his death and rightly so.
What stays with me is this: Elie made it look bearable to bear witness to horror again and again, to on a daily basis invite traumatic memories back into his consciousness. He never claimed he was comfortable with this role. He accepted this painful duty in order to defend human rights and advocate for the oppressed. In his 1986 Nobel acceptance speech, Elie spoke of the community of Holocaust survivors as honored by a terrible burden. He asked, “Do I have the right to represent the multitudes who have perished? Do I have the right to accept this great honor on their behalf? I do not. No one may speak for the dead, no one may interpret their mutilated dreams and visions. And yet, I sense their presence. I always do. ... This [Nobel Prize] belongs to all the survivors and their children…”
A stock-footage political parody
It takes three words.
Romantic pursuits tend to reflect the economy.