By David K. Shipler
American
voters have never sent a city mayor directly to the White House. They have
never regarded being mayor as sufficient qualification. It’s OK to be a corrupt
businessman, a mediocre governor, or a senator who hasn’t managed anything more
than his own staff. But to work at gritty levels where ordinary folks meet the
schools, police, and other essential services? To navigate the intricacies of
race? To witness the intimate impact of government callousness or compassion? All
that is deemed irrelevant by the political professionals and the electorate. As
America burns, maybe it’s time for some rethinking.
Some mayors in this crisis have
found the right tone of passionate eloquence to voice the country’s widespread revulsion
at Officer Derek Chauvin’s murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis. They have touched
the chords of historical outrage over deprivation and oppression. They have mixed
moving pleas for peace with scathing condemnations of those whose violence,
arson, and looting have sullied the noble purpose of the protests.
The fine words have not always
worked. Being mayor is a tough job, and mayors across the country have been
exercising tough love. They’re not all good at it, and ingrained cultures of
both police and citizens impede progress even by the most enlightened. But they’ve
had actual experience at the grass roots, never a bad thing in governing, especially
from the highest post in the land.
That experience has not proved persuasive
to voters. Grover Cleveland was
mayor of Buffalo, but his stepping stone to the presidency was as governor
of New York State. Calvin Coolidge was the small-town mayor of Northampton,
Mass., but before and after that, he served in the state legislature, from
which he was elected vice president; he became president when Warren Harding
died.
Modern candidates have not gained
much traction from their mayoral backgrounds. Vice President Hubert Humphrey
had been mayor of Minneapolis before becoming a U.S. Senator, but the
Minneapolis job didn’t figure prominently in his political reputation.
New York Mayor John Lindsay, a
liberal Republican, got nowhere after he switched parties and tried for the 1972
Democratic presidential nomination. New York Mayor Bill de Blasio made a
fleeting effort last year. Pete Buttigieg was still mayor of South Bend, Ind. when
he launched his bid for this year’s Democratic presidential nomination, and
despite his obvious ability to learn from that role—including hard lessons
about policing and race—those qualifications failed to draw sufficient votes.
Julian Castro had been mayor of San Antonio, then Secretary of Housing and
Urban Development in the Obama administration. His years as mayor informed his
positions but were rarely cited in his run for the nomination. Senator Bernie
Sanders was mayor of Burlington, Vt., but again, he didn’t talk about it much.
Perhaps the credential will mean more now that
we’re seeing how vital local government is to addressing the pandemic and
improving police-community relations. Not that being a mayor necessarily makes
you fit to be president. In 1928, Chicago Mayor William Hale Thompson was
foiled in his run for the Republican nomination, in part because he opposed
Prohibition and took financing from Al Capone. In 1972, Los Angeles Mayor Sam
Yorty, a red-baiter who inflamed police brutality against blacks, tried for the
Democratic nomination and won only six percent of the vote in the New Hampshire
primary. And Rudy Giuliani, Mayor of New York during 9/11, whose support for
abortion rights torpedoed him with Republicans, tarnished himself with his work
as President Trump’s personal lawyer and backdoor emissary to Ukraine; an
exemplary president he would not be.
Plenty of good presidents haven’t
been mayors. Think of Washington, Jefferson, Adams, Lincoln, both Roosevelts, Eisenhower,
Kennedy, Johnson, Carter, Clinton, and Obama. And while mayors lack the foreign
policy experience valuable in the White House, most of those presidents did as
well.
You can study foreign policy. You
can hire good experts. But from the pinnacle of the White House, you can’t
absorb the people’s pain. You can’t detect the layers of hardship and the
crosscurrents of concerns.
In the last week, mayors have risen
above the flames to walk a delicate line of hurt and warning. Jacob Frey of
Minneapolis, who is white, fired the four officers involved, requested the
national guard, and gave
voice to the “anger and sadness that has been ingrained in our black
community, not just because of five minutes of horror, but four hundred years.”
He also denounced the looting as “unacceptable. Our communities cannot and will
not tolerate it.” For displaying his strength of character, Frey was denounced by
Trump as “weak.”
His neighboring mayor, Melvin
Carter of St. Paul, who is black, managed to touch every important note. He also
placed Floyd’s killing in the long landscape of history, “not just over the
past decade as camera phones have become the norm, but over the past decades
and generations and centuries in our
country.” Then he went on:
“That anger is real, and I share it with you.
So today we’re asking our community for peace, but I want to be very clear, we
are not asking you for patience. . . . I am not asking you to sit to the side
and patiently wait while we slowly and incrementally stem the bloody tide of
African-American men killed by law enforcement. We’re asking you to take that
energy, that energy . . . that can either destroy us or it could bring us
together and build us up in a way that we have never been together before as a
country. We’re asking you to take that energy and use it not to destroy our
neighborhoods but to destroy the historic culture, to destroy the systemic
racism, to destroy . . . the laws, the legal precedents, the police union
contracts, all of the things that make it so difficult to hold someone
accountable when a life like George Floyd’s is so wrongfully taken.”
Indeed, as Carter and other mayors
know so well, police don’t change easily. Their unions are mostly devoted to
defending officers, not to correcting them and their departments. Where
contracts require arbitration to rule on dismissals, many officers fired return
to their jobs. It’s a good bet that the vast majority of police officers were
as revolted by the video of Chauvin’s knee on Floyd’s neck as other Americans;
many police chiefs said as much, and some cops prayed and marched with
protesters. Yet police departments are among the country’s most racist
institutions, and reformist mayors such as Frey have found them practically impervious
to reform.
One mayor worth
hearing at length is Keisha Lance Bottoms of Atlanta, who is black. She
excoriated the violent among the peaceful protesters:
“I am a mother. I am a mother to
four black children in America, one of whom is eighteen years old. And when I
saw the murder of George Floyd, I hurt like a mother would hurt. And yesterday
I heard there were rumors about violent protests in Atlanta, I did what a
mother would do. I called my son and I said, ‘Where are you?’ I said, ‘I cannot
protect you, and black boys should not be out today.’
“So you’re not gonna out-concern me
and out-care about where we are in America. I wear this each and every day and
I pray over my children each and every day. So what I see happening on the
streets of Atlanta is not Atlanta. This is not a protest. This is not in the
spirit of Martin Luther King Jr. This is chaos. A protest has purpose. When Dr.
King was assassinated, we didn’t do this to our city. So if you love this city,
this city that has had a legacy of black mayors and black police chiefs and
people who care about this city, where more than 50 percent of the business owners
in Metro Atlanta are minority business owners, if you care about this city, then
go home. . . .
“You’re not honoring the legacy of Martin
Luther King Jr. and the civil rights movement. You’re not protesting anything
running out with brown liquor in your hands breaking windows in this city. . .
. If you want change in America, go and register to vote. Show up at the polls
on June ninth. Do it in November. That is the change we need in this city. You
are disgracing this city. . . . We are better than this as a city. We are
better than this as a country. Go home. Go home. In the same way I couldn’t
protect my son yesterday, I cannot protect you out in those streets.”
Mayor Muriel Bowser of Washington,
D.C., also black, had a few choice
words for Trump. “I call upon our city and our nation to exercise great
restraint, even while our president tries to divide us,” she declared. “We are
grieving hundreds of years of institutional racism, systems that require black
Americans to prove our humanity just for it to be disregarded. . . . We need
leaders who recognize this pain and in times of great turmoil and despair can
provide us a sense of calm and a sense of hope. Instead, what we’ve got in the
last two days from the White House is the glorification of violence against
American citizens. What used to be heard in dog whistles we now hear from a
bull horn. So to everyone hurting and doing our part to move this country
forward, we will look to ourselves and our own communities for this leadership
and this hope.”
That statement came before Trump fanned the
flames again Monday by telling governors that they were “weak” and urging
tougher police measures. Even if the governors reject the president’s call for
police violence, many rank and file officers will surely heed it.
Keisha Lance Bottoms, Mayor of Atlanta, for VP!
ReplyDelete"We need leaders who recognize this pain and in times of great turmoil and despair can provide us a sense of calm and a sense of hope. Instead, what we’ve got in the last two days from the White House is the glorification of violence against American citizens." Muriel Bowser, Mayor, Washington, D.C. has my vote!
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