This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf.  Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist.  This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.  I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf.  The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie.  And it is where you want to be on a golf course.

I have written about this subject previously to underline that I hope journalists will continue to push to be as objective as possible, not promoters of one side or the other, but as reporters of real developments.

It’s a tough challenge these days, with subjects of journalistic coverage yelling and screaming rather than talking.

Still, I think there is a way for solid journalists to bridge what sometimes is a gap between “objectivity” and “advocacy.”  It is report everything, including the status of an issue, as well as the lies many public officials tell about that status.

But, for now at least, enough from me.

Instead, I reprint an excellent article written by Martin Baron, executive editor of The Washington Post from January 2013 through February 2021 and, before that, editor of the Boston Globe for more than 11 years.  His book, “Collision of Power: Trump, Bezos, and The Washington Post,” is to be published in October.  This essay is adapted from a speech Baron gave March 16 as part of the Richman Fellowship at Brandeis University.

Baron’s piece appeared under this headline:  We want objective judges and doctors. Why not journalists too?  [It is longer than my normal posts, but it is well-written and the subject is important.  I wish I could have heard his lecture in-person.]

**********

Objectivity in journalism has attracted a lot of attention lately. It also is a subject that has suffered from confusion and an abundance of distortion.

I’m about to do something terribly unpopular in my profession these days: Defend the idea.

Let’s step back a bit. First, a dictionary definition of objectivity. This is from Merriam-Webster: “expressing or dealing with facts or conditions as perceived without distortion by personal feelings, prejudices, or interpretations.”

That’s of some, but limited, help in understanding the idea. Let me suggest thinking about objectivity in the context of other professions. Because as journalists, and as citizens, we routinely expect objectivity from professionals of every sort.

We want objective judges. We want objective juries. We want front-line police officers to be objective when they make arrests and detectives to be objective in conducting investigations. We want prosecutors to evaluate cases objectively, with no preexisting bias or agendas. In short, we want justice to be equitably administered. Objectivity — which is to say a fair, honest, honorable, accurate, rigorous, impartial, open-minded evaluation of the evidence — is at the very heart of equity in law enforcement.

We want doctors to be objective in their diagnoses of the medical conditions of their patients. We don’t want them recommending treatments based on hunches or superficial, subjective judgments about their patients. We want doctors to make a fair, honest, honorable, accurate, rigorous, impartial, open-minded evaluation of the clinical evidence.

We want medical researchers and government regulators to be objective in determining whether new drugs might work and whether they can be taken safely. We want scientists to be objective in evaluating the impact of chemicals in the soil, air and water. In short, we want to know with confidence that we can live in healthful conditions, without injury to our children, our parents, our friends or ourselves.

Objectivity among science and medical professionals is at the very heart of our faith in the food we eat, the water we drink, the air we breathe and the medicines we take.

In business, too, we want objectivity. We want applicants for bank loans to be considered objectively, based on valid criteria about collateral and borrowers’ capacity to repay debt — not on biases about race and ethnicity. The same goes for credit cards, where access to the consumer marketplace should rest on objective standards and not on prejudices or flawed assumptions about who qualifies as a good risk and who does not.

The concept of objectivity in all these fields gets no argument from journalists. We accept it, embrace it, insist on it. Journalists investigate when we find it missing, particularly when it leads to acts of injustice.

And today — in an era of misinformation, disinformation and crackpot conspiracy theories that poison our politics and threaten the public health — we rightly ask leaders of all sorts to face up to “objective reality,” or what we commonly call truth.

Of course, objectivity is not always achieved. Judges, police and prosecutors don’t always act without bias. Scientists sometimes succumb to wishful thinking or manipulate data in a dishonest pursuit of professional glory. In business, bias has inflicted profound, enduring damage on marginalized communities by barring full participation in the economy.

But failure to achieve standards does not obviate the need for them. It does not render them outmoded. It makes them more necessary. And it requires that we apply them more consistently and enforce them more firmly.

Most in the public, in my experience, expect my profession to be objective, too. Dismissing their expectations — outright defying them — is an act of arrogance. It excuses our biases. It enshrines them. And, most importantly, it fails the cause of truth.

Increasingly now, journalists — particularly a rising generation — are repudiating the standard to which we routinely, and resolutely, hold others.

These critics of objectivity among journalism professionals, encouraged and enabled by many in the academic world, are convinced that journalism has failed on multiple fronts and that objectivity is at the root of the problem.

Various arguments are made:

First, that no one can be truly objective — that we all have opinions. Why not admit them? Why hide them? We’re not being honest if we do.

Second, that true objectivity is unattainable. Our views shape every choice we make in practicing journalism — from the stories we select to pursue, to the people we interview, to the questions we ask, to the ways we write stories. So, if genuine objectivity is beyond reach, the argument goes, let’s not pretend we’re practicing it and let’s not even try.

Third, that objectivity is just another word for false balance, false equivalence, neutrality, both-sidesism and “on the one hand, on the other hand” journalism. According to this argument, objectivity is nothing more than an effort to insulate ourselves from partisan criticism: When the evidence points overwhelmingly in one direction, we deceitfully suggest otherwise.

Ultimately, critics consider the idea of objectivity antithetical to our mission overall: The standard is a straitjacket, the argument goes. We can’t tell it like it is. The practical effect is to misinform. Moral values are stripped from our work. The truth gets buried.

Many journalists have concluded that our profession has failed miserably to fulfill its responsibilities at a perilous moment in history. Their evidence is that Donald Trump got elected in the first place, despite his lies, nativism, brutishness and racist and misogynistic language; that Donald Trump still maintains a strong grip on Republican politicians and so much of the American public; and that so many American voters refuse to accept basic facts, that they reject reason and logic and evidence, and get swept up in outlandish conspiratorial thinking.

Had we not been constrained by standards like objectivity, critics believe, we would have been more faithful to our profession’s truth-telling mission. American politics might be different. People could better sift truth from lie.

There is also the view that we have never actually been reliable truth-tellers. That what we call “objective” is, in fact, subjective.

Objectivity’s detractors note, with merit, that American media have been dominated by White males. Historically, the experiences of women, people of color and other marginalized populations have not been adequately told — or told at all. What White males consider objective reality isn’t that at all, they say. It’s really nothing more, in their view, than the world seen from the White male perspective.

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American journalist Walter Lippmann. (Library of Congress)

That’s the criticism. So, where did this idea of objectivity come from? And how did it become a journalistic standard in the first place? The origins are a bit murky, but they are typically traced to about a century ago.

In 1920, Walter Lippmann, a renowned American journalist, published “Liberty and the News.” He was one of the most influential advocates for the idea of “objectivity” in journalism. In that brief collection of essays, he sought to advance the concept.

For context, here is what he had to say about his own era. It should have a familiar ring.

“There is everywhere an increasingly angry disillusionment about the press, a growing sense of being baffled and misled.” He saw an onslaught of news that comes “helter-skelter, in inconceivable confusion” and a public “protected by no rules of evidence.”

He feared an environment where people, as he put it, “cease to respond to truths, and respond simply to opinions … what somebody asserts, not what actually is.”

“The cardinal fact,” he said, “is the loss of contact with objective information.” And he worried that people “believe whatever fits most comfortably with their prepossessions.”

His diagnosis was much like what causes us so much worry today: Democratic institutions were threatened. He saw journalism as essential to democracy. But to properly serve its purpose, journalism — in his view — needed standards.

“Without protection against propaganda,” he wrote, “without standards of evidence, without criteria of emphasis, the living substance of all popular decision is exposed to every prejudice and to infinite exploitation. … There can be no liberty for a community which lacks the information by which to detect lies.”

Lippmann was seeking a means for countering the propaganda of his time. He well understood the tools for manipulating public opinion. He himself participated in the propaganda machine of the Woodrow Wilson administration. He saw how propaganda of the early 20th century carried the world into the slaughter of World War I, and how public sentiment could be influenced and exploited through calculated effort. And he called this propaganda emanating from government the “manufacture of consent.

Lippmann recognized that we all have our preconceptions. But he wrote that “we shall accomplish more by fighting for truth than by fighting for our theories.” And so he called for as “impartial an investigation of the facts as is humanly possible.” Which is where the idea of objectivity came in: as impartial an investigation of the facts as is humanly possible.

Our job as journalists, as he saw it, was to determine the facts and place them in context. The goal should be to have our work be as scientific as we could make it. Our research would be conscientious and careful. We would be guided by what the evidence showed. That meant we had to be generous listeners and eager learners, especially conscious of our own suppositions, prejudices, preexisting opinions and limited knowledge.

So, when I defend objectivity, I am defending it as it was originally defined and defending what it really means. The true meaning of objectivity is not the straw man that is routinely erected by critics so that they can then tear it down.

Objectivity is not neutrality. It is not on-the-one-hand, on-the-other-hand journalism. It is not false balance or both-sidesism. It is not giving equal weight to opposing arguments when the evidence points overwhelmingly in one direction. It does not suggest that we as journalists should engage in meticulous, thorough research only to surrender to cowardice by failing to report the facts we’ve worked so hard to discover.

The goal is not to avoid criticism, pander to partisans or appease the public. The aim is not to win affection from readers and viewers. It does not require us to fall back on euphemisms when we should be speaking plainly. It does not mean we as a profession labor without moral conviction about right and wrong.

Nor was the principle of objectivity “meant to imply that journalists were free of bias,” as Tom Rosenstiel, a professor of journalism at the University of Maryland and former executive director of the American Press Institute, and Bill Kovach, a former top editor, wrote in their book, “The Elements of Journalism.” “Quite the contrary,” they noted. The term arose “out of a growing recognition that journalists were full of bias, often unconsciously. Objectivity called for journalists to develop a consistent method of testing information — a transparent approach to evidence — precisely so that personal and cultural biases would not undermine the accuracy of their work.”

As Rosenstiel and Kovach pointed out, “the method is objective, not the journalist,” and “the key was in the discipline of the craft.”

The idea is to be open-minded when we begin our research and to do that work as conscientiously as possible. It demands a willingness to listen, an eagernessto learn — and an awareness that there is much for us to know.

We don’t start with the answers. We go seeking them, first with the already formidable challenge of asking the right questions and finally with the arduous task of verification.

It’s not that we know nothing when we embark on our reporting. It is that we don’t know everything. And typically we don’t know much, or perhaps even most, of what we should. And what we think we know may not be right or may be missing important pieces. And so we set out to learn what we do not know or do not fully understand.

I call that reporting. If that’s not what we mean by genuine reporting, what exactly do we mean?

I believe our profession would benefit from listening more to the public and from talking less at the public, as if we knew it all. I believe we should be more impressed with what we don’t know than with what we know — or think we know. In journalism, we could use more humility — and less hubris.

We of course want journalists to bring their life experiences to their jobs. The collective life experiences of all of us in a newsroom are an invaluable resource of ideas and perspectives. But every individual’s life experience is, inescapably, narrow. Life experience can inform us. But, let’s be honest, it can also limit us. There is an immense universe beyond the lives we ourselves have lived. And if there are constraints on our ability to understand a world beyond our own, we as journalists should strive to overcome them.

I made a statement in my retirement note to staff in early 2021 that reflects my belief: “We start with more questions than answers, inclined more to curiosity and inquiry than to certitude. We always have more to learn.”

This gets at a point that my longtime friend and competitor, Dean Baquet, then executive editor of the New York Times, eloquently articulated in a speech in 2021. I wholeheartedly embrace his perspective.

Dean said: “My theory, secretly shared by many editors I know and respect, is that one of the major crises in our profession is the erosion of the primacy of reporting.”

“There is not enough talk about the beauty of open-minded and empathetic reporting and the fear that its value will fade in an era where hot takes, quick analysis and riffs are held in such high esteem. …”

“Certainty,” Dean said, “is one of the enemies of great reporting.” And he called upon reporting to be “restored to the center.”

Dean quoted Jason DeParle, the New York Times’s superb reporter on poverty in America: “The great lesson of reporting,” Jason said, “is that the world is almost always more complicated and unlikely than it seems while sitting at your desk.”

This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf.  Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist.  This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.  I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf.  The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie.  And it is where you want to be on a golf course.

Remember, this is one of four departments I run with a free hand to do as I wish as director.

The others are the Department of Pet Peeves, the Department of “Just Saying,” and the Department of Inquiring Minds.

So, here are good quotes.  And, it is noteworthy that I kept the list to three when there is so much more to quote.

FROM ATLANTIC MAGAZINE:  “To our shame, we have too often let those kinds of arguments (that ones that minimize the hush money charges) define the Trump legal saga.

“If Trump is brought to trial on the far more serious charge of attempting to strong-arm Georgia election officials, his defenders will claim that that indictment, too, is just local huckstering.  They will find other excuses in the event that he somehow must answer for his role in trying to overturn our constitutional processes.  

“And once again, even after looking at Trump’s own behavior, including his phone call to the Georgia secretary of state and the exhortation to the mob on January 6, too many Americans will focus on whether he committed an actual crime instead of coming to their senses and realizing that in any functional and healthy democracy, someone like Trump would have been shamed and forced into political and social exile years ago.

“Trump, like the Republican opportunists who cling to him like remoras under a shark, doesn’t care about shame — he cares about getting away with it.  Indeed, rather than leaving the public arena, Trump has reveled in it all, rolling around in the garbage of his own life and grunting happily about how the rules don’t apply to the real elites like him.”

COMMENT:  Trump, ever the victim, turns any issue – yes, ANY issue – into one from which he tries to profit.

FROM THE WASHINGTON POST:  “A few aspects of the case (the hush money case) are worth underscoring:

“1. The hue and cry has gone up that this is a ticky-tacky indictment. The complaint here seems to be that because Trump is under investigation for important federal crimes, the state cannot enforce its own laws when he violates them.  But the rule of law does not require that someone under investigation for serious felonies not be arrested for, say, drunken driving or shoplifting.  No suspect can avoid consequences for lesser crimes pending indictment for more serious ones.

“2. Trump has already started threatening and demonizing Bragg.  He has mused about death and destruction and summoned his shock troops to take back their country, just as he did in the run-up to the Capitol riot of January 6, 2021.

“Any attempt to thwart our legal system with violence and chaos cannot be tolerated.  The assigned New York judge should use the full array of judicial power, including a gag order, to prevent threats to the district attorney, court staff and jurors.  (If Trump is trying to lay the groundwork for a defense of “selective prosecution,” he’ll most likely fail.

“3. This is probably not the last indictment. Trump attorney Evan Corcoran has been compelled to testify in the Mar-a-Lago espionage and obstruction case.  And former vice president Mike Pence has been ordered to testify before a grand jury in the January 6 investigation.

“Trump is being prosecuted, not because he is a former president, but because his status as a former president does not shield him from the law.”

COMMENT:  Nothing more needs to be written.

FROM THE WALL STREET JOURNAL:  “The latest in the long onslaught of storms that began in December has pushed California’s snowpack to its highest level on record.  This week’s storm dumped another one to two feet in the Sierra Nevada helping this season eclipse 1982-83, the previous record-holder.

“The water stored in the state’s snowpack is 235 per cent of normal, according to the California Department of Water Resources, surpassing 234 per cent in 1982-83.

“By far, the central and southern Sierra have seen the most unusual amounts of snow, with their snow water content 233 per cent and 298 per cent of normal, respectively.  

“The enormous snowpack has accumulated mostly because of 17 atmospheric rivers — or potent jets of subtropical moisture — which have bombarded the state since December.

COMMENT:  So, to repeat a point in a blog a day or so ago, why doesn’t the government of California take steps to save rainwater and snow melt as hedge against drought?

Sounds obvious.  But state officials have showed no interest in this intriguing idea.  They are too busy doing other stuff. 

This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf.  Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist.  This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.  I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf.  The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie.  And it is where you want to be on a golf course.

At least the headline applies in Oregon.

With all our rainfall, we have a lot of water available to catch and use.

Why don’t we do it?

The same question could be asked about California where my wife, our dog, and I live in the winter. 

With last year’s drought in mind, why don’t officials in California devise ways to catch rainfall or snow runoff to stem a future drought, especially when what are called “atmospheric rivers” form nearly every week and drop inches of rain on formerly parched land?  Even as the snowpack expands.

When we drive south and north along I-5, the water issue is driven home by all the farms that need water, not to mention the advocates who blast state and federal officials for emphasizing “environmental” uses of water over farming.

This came to mind for me when I read a story in the New York times a few days ago.  Words by reporter Nick Aspinwall appeared under this headline: “Millions lack access to running water.  Is the solution hiding in plain sight?”

Here is how Aspinall started his reporting:

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“In the 1980s, Brad Lancaster in Tucson, Arizona, started making illegal cuts into curbs in his Dunbar Springs neighborhood here, allowing storm water to flow into street side basins to water native plants and shade trees.

“Lancaster, a longtime rainwater advocate in Arizona, was inspired by rain farmers using ancient practices to catch, filter and re-route rainwater for drinking, household use and landscaping.

“The result is a desert oasis where couples walk their dogs under shade trees and wildflowers bursting along the sidewalks — and the beginnings of a movement that has helped make Tucson a pioneer in rain catching.

“As the Southwest faces a historic megadrought that imperils the water sources it’s always relied upon, a growing number of Arizonans — from the Navajo and Hopi lands to the state’s parched desert cities — are turning to the practice.

“It’s a movement that extends beyond the United States, to monsoon-drenched southern India. Advocates say that in even the driest towns and cities, rain farming has the potential to erase projected water deficits in the decades to come.

“Rainwater should be the primary water source of everyone’s household.”

And, here are excerpts from the Times story, which drive home the point:

• Lancaster, who said rain fulfills nearly all the water needs in his Tucson home, said the same can be true for the city:  If collected, he said, the 11 inches of average annual rainfall in Tucson could supply all of its municipal water needs.  Studies elsewhere have shown capturing even a fraction of rainwater could eliminate drinking water shortages and recharge groundwater basins.

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• Perhaps no city has encouraged the practice more than Tucson, which launched first-of-its-kind rainwater harvesting installation mandates in 2008 and rebate programs in 2012 as part of its goal to become carbon neutral by 2030.  “I don’t think we should be using the Colorado River as our checking account,” Lancaster said.
• Rainwater can be actively caught from rooftops that send it down gutters into giant cisterns, or tanks, where it’s filtered before it’s used for drinking, showering and other household needs. It can also be harvested passively, using simple reconfigurations of earth to create slopes and basins and irrigate gardens without requiring expensive equipment.
• Melinda O’Daniel was born on Navajo land, where for centuries, families raised cattle and grew crops by catching and diverting rainwater.  Her husband, Wayne, grew up in a place called Big Mountain atop Black Mesa, straddling the Navajo and Hopi reservations, where he remembers dozens of springs that supplied water to his family of ranchers.
• Rainwater harvesting has caught on within an off-grid subculture in the rural Southwest that prefers finding independent sources of water and energy.  But in the United States and the world at large, it’s rarely been harnessed as municipal policy.  Colorado even banned rainwater collection until 2016, and it still imposes restrictions on how much homeowners can keep.
• The push for catching more rainwater extends beyond the United States, which can learn from both successes and setbacks across the globe. In 2001, the Indian state of Tamil Nadu passed a sweeping rainwater catchment mandate for all new buildings.

So, if we as citizens – not to mention public officials – are smart, we will draft plans to capture what Mother Nature provides, which, in this instance, is water.

Why not take advantage of it?

This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf.  Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist.  This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.  I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf.  The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie.  And it is where you want to be on a golf course.

The headline in this blog takes me back to my time as a state government lobbyist here in Oregon.

Technical language in pieces of legislation always is hard to read, written, as they are, by lawyers closeted in one of the back rooms at the State Capitol in Salem, Oregon.

To understand the words, you must be an attorney.

I came across another example this week.

Here is the introduction to Senate Bill 525:

“Directs Environmental Quality Commission to adopt standards prohibiting engine exhaust and evaporative emissions from new small non-road engines beginning January 1, 2026, unless a later date is required by federal Clean Air Act.  Directs Department of Environmental Quality to establish program to provide incentives for purchase of zero-emission small non-road equipment.  Takes effect on 91st day following adjournment sine die.”

So, what does this mean?

Well, I didn’t know until I did a little independent research.  The target of this language is to limit leaf blower equipment in urban areas, including Portland and other large cities.

Who knew?

The language left a lot to be desired.

Turns out the Senate Bill 525 is dead or at least dormant, perhaps is part because it was so clumsily written.

Good.

I say that from the perspective of one who sits on the Oregon Golf Association Executive Committee.  As written, the bill would have meant the end of most equipment on golf course to keep them open for play by citizens.

Other effects?

No doubt there would have been many for citizens, and small and large businesses.

One solution here would be to make sure bills are written to achieve the objectives sponsors want.  They allow them to rise or fall on their own merits, not clumsy language.

This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf.  Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist.  This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.  I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf.  The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie.  And it is where you want to be on a golf course.

I wrote the other day about the incredibly bad news that Donald Trump wants to be president again.

Then, I read a piece in The Atlantic Magazine that underlined in spades my concern.  So, I post it without any additional comment.  None is needed.

From The Atlantic:

“Almost 30 years after a cult leader caused a disaster in Waco, Trump rallied his own political cult — and the location cannot be a coincidence —in that same Texas city.

“The Waco tent revival featured the usual Trumpian cast of grifters, carnies, and misfits, including the fan favorites Mike Lindell and Ted Nugent.  Most of the former president’s speech was, of course, about himself and his many grievances, and the crowd reportedly began to thin out somewhat early.

“And yet, in Waco — the first rally of Trump’s 2024 campaign — Trump proved he is still capable of doing shocking things that once would have been unthinkable.

“Moments like the Waco rally should be all over the news, for three reasons.

“First, Trump fatigue is real, but the personality cult around Trump avoids it by cherry-picking what Trump says and does.  Putting Trump on blast isn’t going to convert new people; if anything, we learned from Trump’s COVID press conferences as president that he does a lot of damage to himself by talking too much.  

“Second, Trump and his minions, especially elected Republicans, are experts at pretending that things didn’t happen the way we saw them.  Ask a GOP official about Trump’s offensive statements, and you’ll likely get, ‘I didn’t see that,’ ‘I don’t read his tweets,’ ‘I’ll have to check into that,’ and other squirts of verbal helium.

“Media and citizens alike should hold those elected representatives and other officeholders to account.  Ask them point-blank if they support what Trump said and if they will support him as the nominee of their party.

“Third, we need to confront the reality that Trump is now on track to win the nomination yet again.  In 2016 and 2020, we were facing the most important elections in modern American history, but that was before Trump incited an insurrection and invited every violent kook in the nation to ride to his defense.  

“2024 is epochally important.  Trump has left no doubt that he is a violent authoritarian who intends to reject any election that does not restore him to power, that he will pardon scores of criminals, and that he will never willingly leave office. This should be said every day, in every medium.

“If we are to walk ourselves back into an authoritarian nightmare, let’s at least do it without any pretenses.”

I, for one, won’t talk that way.

Or, if you prefer, consider this quote from late night TV host Jimmy Kimmel who, as he usually does, offered his nightly riff.

“Trump chose Waco because it’s a powerful metaphor for his campaign: He’s going down in flames, and he’s taking his cult followers with him.”

This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf.  Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist.  This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.  I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf.  The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie.  And it is where you want to be on a golf course.

From our winter base in La Quinta, California, my wife, Nancy; our dog, Callaway; and me headed East and West the other day on a one-and-a-half-hour drive to an outpost in the California desert, Borrego Springs.

I guess we had nothing better to do on a Saturday than make the drive, which I had done once before.  So, I was eager to show my wife the sights and sounds of the 90-mile transit.

To get to Borrego from La Quinta, you head mostly East on I-86, which takes you by the Salton Sea, still a large body of water, despite predictions that it is dying.  One reason, of course, is that it is “infested” with salt that harms fish populations and exudes a smell the drives many visitors away from its beaches.

They still exist, I guess, with signs that are falling down, heralding such beaches as one named appropriately – Salton Beach.

Although large seas have cyclically formed and dried over historic time in the basin due to natural flooding from the Colorado River, the current Salton Sea was formed when Colorado floodwaters breached an irrigation canal being constructed in the Imperial Valley in 1905 and flowed into the Salton Sink.

Thus, the Salton Sea, which does not have much going for it these days other than that it might be a site for mining lithium, which is needed for many of today’s batteries.  Various companies are exploring mines in and around the Sea (just as, for instance, they are doing in far East and South reaches of Oregon, the state where we live, except in the winter).

About 50 miles East from La Quinta, you turn West on a difficult road to traverse.  On many bumps, you go around and through vast expanses of sand with nary a tree in sight.

And, then, about 10 miles in on the 30-mile drive to Borrego, you see RV after RV positioned out in the sand-scaped vistas with their four-wheel drive vehicles nearby ready to traverse the land.

I guess there is no need for permit to camp on the land.  Just show up and set up, if you can stand the heat and the sand without trees.

When we got to Borrego, it didn’t appear that there was much to see.  There was street fare in the central turnaround of the city and it appeared that many residents and visitors frequented the area during the day, especially when there was music to enjoy.

We drove around to see what we could see, wondering all the time why anyone would choose to live in Borrego, especially when water is so scarce.

We do have a handful of friends who have chosen winter homes there and one reason, they say, is that the pace of life is slower than it would be in the Palm Springs environs. 

No doubt true.

The best area we saw on our trip was the de Anza Golf Course, where one of my friends has played for years.  There was a friendly clubhouse there and a course that looked inviting, at least at first blush, though I did not play it.

There also were homes around course, much as exists in Palm Springs around the more than 100 golf courses in our area. 

My wife and I said we could sojourn there in the winter, but not elsewhere in Borrego.

Here is what Mr. Google says about de Anza:

“People from all around the world are attracted to de Anza Desert Club for the fabulous Borrego Springs golf in conjunction with the desert’s beauty and tranquility.  Located 90 minutes from Palms Springs and San Diego, de Anza Desert Club is a great escape from the hustle and bustle.  

“And for people who desire the outdoors, de Anza Desert Club is surrounded by the grandeur of the 600,000-acre Anza Borrego State Park, California’s largest state park.”

The most famous golf course in Borrego is Rams Hill and, when we drove by it on our trip, there was a long waiting line on the first tee.  A couple years ago, I played it once and, while a decent course, once is enough for me.

Speaking of Mr. Google, here is what he says about living in Borrego:

“You get to enjoy a small community that has natural treasures surrounding it.  The desert is not just a flat patch of burning sand.  The canyons in the mountains around Borrego Springs will testify to that.  You have an opportunity to see some of the natural wonders of Southern California right outside your door.”

Okay, I get it.  But for me, my wife, and my dog, we prefer La Quinta.

This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf.  Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist.  This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.  I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf.  The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie.  And it is where you want to be on a golf course.

If you want to stay awake at night worrying about the future of this country, don’t ponder bank health.  Just think of this:  Donald Trump wants you to give him four more years in the country’s highest political office, the presidency.

Don’t!

Atlantic Magazine raised the Trump issue in its lead on-line article a few days ago.

“Former president Donald Trump gave a long and deranged speech at the Conservative Political Action Conference.  We need to stop treating support for Trump as if it’s just another political choice and, instead, work to isolate his renewed threat to our democracy and our national security.”

The Atlantic writer, Tom Nichols, asked readers to consider what he called “a more unsettling question.”  How, he asked, in 2023, “after all we know about this man and his attacks on our government and our Constitution, do we engage people who heard that speech and support Trump’s candidacy?  How do we turn the discussion away from partisanship and toward good citizenship – and to the protection of our constitutional order?”

Good question.

And, now, in a typical Trump action, he says he wants to be arrested for sending hush money to porn star Stormy Daniels.  Including, he says, a “perp walk,” where he would smile for the cameras and, which, he believes would redound to his credit among those who support him no matter what.

A few years ago, on a trip to Germany, I asked myself a question regarding how the German people tolerated Adolph Hitler as he committed the worst evil known to mankind, attempting to obliterate an entire race of people, the Jews.

I know comparisons between Hitler and Trump may come across as unfair or out-of-bounds, but, to me at least, they are roughly appropriate in that they deal with two despots.

I add quickly that it may be unfair to tar Germans with a tainted brush because, as general citizens, they may not have had an effective way to oppose Hitler, or, perhaps, they didn’t know what he was doing until it was too late.

So, give the Germans of today space to be real citizens — even as their country’s leader committed heinous acts many years ago.

Regarding the prospect of more Trump – including what, to me, is his worst offense, fomenting a take-over-the-country riot — the Atlantic put it this way:  “The Trumpian time in the presidency turned into a tawdry four years of grubby incompetence and ignominious loss.  If Trump wins again, there will be a flurry of pardons, the same cast of miscreants will return to Pennsylvania Avenue and, this time, they won’t even pretend to care about the Constitution or the rule of law.”

My prescription:  Vote for someone else.

In that way, express your real American citizenship.

**********

And this postscript from an article in the Washington Post by political analyst Philip Bump:

“One of the most important things to understand about Donald Trump is that he thinks zero moves ahead.  He is by nature a salesman eager to close the deal.  He’ll tell you what he thinks will get the job done and if he says something contradictory or inaccurate, he’ll just talk more to get you back where he wants you.

“On Monday, Trump gave his first speech in Iowa since announcing his 2024 bid for the Republican presidential nomination.  On the way there, he spoke with reporters about his candidacy and his former presidency.  As part of that conversation, he offered an obviously ridiculous claim:  The violence that unfolded at the Capitol on January 6, 2021, was really Vice President Mike Pence’s fault.”

Sure.  Trump at his vile “best,” speaking off the cuff at the moment without any thought for context or accuracy.

This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf.  Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist.  This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.  I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf.  The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie.  And it is where you want to be on a golf course.

Over my years working in and around government in Oregon for more than 40 years, a few facts stood out.

One of them is that the divide between urban Oregonians and rural Oregonians is real.  And it persists.

So, says a major story that appeared a few days ago in the New York Times.  It appeared under this headline and subhead:

“Oregon’s Rural-Urban Divide Sparks Talk of Secession

“Conservatives have approved a series of ballot measures in pursuit of an improbable plan to redraw the state’s border.  We spent time in the region under dispute to see what the debate says about the country’s divisions.

“We’re exploring how America defines itself one place at a time. Residents in eastern Oregon say they are tired of being ruled by more liberal parts of the state.”

The reporters, Mike Baker and Hillary Swift, produced a fascinating story – perhaps even a foreboding one – about the reality.  It is serious enough that some East Oregonians want to be part of Idaho, not Oregon.  They are not likely to get their way, but they still try, if only because of the experience of trying.

For my part, I encountered the urban-rural divide in several ways:

• When I worked as deputy director of the Oregon Economic Development Department, the issue was front and center for us.  We wish we could have helped to produce results for rural Oregon – and we did in a few cases — but it was very difficult, given limits on time, space, and transportation systems.
• When I worked as a state lobbyist, I saw the factor straight ahead as the Oregon Legislature often illustrated that its key urban leaders did not understand rural issues, or even, on occasion, didn’t care to learn about them.
• One reason was Oregon is now and has been for years led by Democrats and many rural Oregonians are Republicans.  Plus, all legislative leaders in the last years have come from urban Oregon, so rural Oregonians have felt left out or even ignored.

Here are a few excerpts from the Times story, which is worth reading in its entirety:

• Corey Cook still holds a fondness for her days living in Portland, where the downtown pubs and riverfront cherry blossoms made her proud to call the Rose City home during her 20s.  But as she started growing wary of the metro area’s congestion and liberal politics, she moved to the suburbs, then the exurbs, before heading east, eventually escaping Portland’s sphere of influence on the other side of the Cascade Mountains in 2017.  But even here, where she now runs a Christian camp amid the foothill pines overlooking the Grande Ronde Valley, she cannot help but notice how the values of western Oregon are held over the eastern part of the state by way of laws making guns less accessible and abortions more accessible.
• The broad sense of estrangement felt across rural Oregon has led conservatives in recent years to pursue a scrupulous strategy to open a theoretical escape hatch, gathering thousands of signatures for a series of ballot measures that have now passed in 11 counties.  Those measures require regular meetings to discuss the idea of secession.  In those places, including Union County, Cook’s new home, county commissioners in rooms adorned by Oregon flags and maps are now obligated to talk about whether it would one day make sense to be part of Idaho.
• The “Greater Idaho” movement joins a long history of U.S. defection struggles.  In California, for example, there have been more than 200 attempts over the years to break up the state.  Greater Idaho sees its solution as simple — a shift in an existing border that would claim the entire eastern half of Oregon without creating an entirely new state.  Despite being a political long shot, the sustained and growing interest from residents in the area and attention from politicians in Idaho have illustrated how much the state is already divided in spirit.
• Oregon’s culture and politics have long been defined by east-west, rural-urban divides, with the Cascade Mountains standing like a curtain separating two distinct halves of the state.  The western side is rainier and denser in population, home to the state’s major universities and largest employers.  The eastern side has high deserts and vast skies and a more scattered population that recognizes a decades-long decline in conservative clout.
• A Republican has not been elected governor in 40 years.  [I worked for last one and, while he has great at his job, no Republican has been able to follow him.]
• Contrasts are part of eastern Oregon’s past and present.  Here, sagebrush flatlands are corralled by mountain peaks that approach 10,000 feet high, and desert terrains get buried in winter snow.  Communities longing for the robust timber industry of decades prior also embrace the pristine forests that draw people to a growing eco-tourism economy.

Now, as for the secession movement.  It is not very likely to be successful, given all that must happen – passage in the state legislatures of both Oregon and Idaho, as well as in Congress.  Tall asks.

To some residents in eastern Oregon, however, the secession movement has been cathartic, a sort of relief valve for decades of boiling frustrations with government in a region that feels absolutely neglected by Oregon’s power structure center west of the Cascade Mountain Range.

Further, redrawing state maps would require much more than fresh cartography.  Logistical challenges grow even more thorny with each new question.  Would people in eastern Oregon be ready to embrace a sales tax from Idaho?  How would Idaho, which bans legal marijuana, manage eastern Oregon’s thriving weed industry?  How would the states transition eastern Oregon’s state government employees, with some benefits already earned, to a new retirement system with different rules and compensation?

All tough questions. 

But the reality is that they won’t need to be answered because Eastern Oregon will not become part of Idaho any time soon.

Still, all this underlines again the need for political leaders and citizens in the West to find new and effective ways to understand citizens from the East.  After all, everyone is part of Oregon today.

This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf.  Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist.  This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.  I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf.  The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie.  And it is where you want to be on a golf course.

I’ve written about this before – hindsight vs. foresight regarding the U.S. decision to go to war in Iraq.

That conundrum applies to many other decisions in government.  What makes sense at the time often looks strange or bad years later.  It’s part of the reality of government leadership.

That go-to-war decision on Iraq is now 20 years old, so it is time for more news commentary on the issue. 

Before citing two examples of commentary, here is my bottom-line view, supported only by perception, not by independently acquired facts:  At the time 20 years ago, in the Administration of President George W. Bush, it made sense to rely on foresight.  The best intelligence at the time showed Iraq had access to weapons of mass destruction, so removing Saddam Hussein’s ability to use them against the U.S. made eminent sense. 

Retired Wall Street Journal editor Gerard Baker disagrees.  Here is what he wrote in the Journal under this headline and subhead:  Two Decades Later, the Iraq War Is Hard to Defend; Baghdad is no longer a threat, but it’s fallacious to claim invasion was the only means to that end.

“Some of those who supported the invasion of Iraq 20 years ago this week are making the best defense they can of what the rest of us long ago concluded was probably the most flawed decision in American foreign policy since the founding of the republic.

“The case for the war two decades in the rearview mirror goes something like this:   It was messy and poorly executed, true, but Iraq is better off now than it was then, and more important, it no longer poses a threat to the U.S., its allies and its interests.  

“Tragic as American and allied military deaths and injuries are, this was achieved with the loss of a fraction of the casualties in Korea or Vietnam, let alone the world wars.  The fiscal cost was relatively small too, perhaps $100 billion a year for eight years, well below 1 per cent of U.S. gross domestic product.

“What’s more, the defenders say, we tend to see events like these through a static rather than a dynamic view of history.  Even if the U.S. hadn’t invaded Iraq in 2003, it’s likely that over the next 10 years terrible violence would have unfolded there.  Sooner or later the suppression of the Shiite two-thirds of the population by the Sunni Arab quarter would have ended in mass bloodshed.”

Baker makes his claims with the benefit of hindsight, which, definition, gives him information he would not have had 20 years ago when, if he had been president, would have forced a decision.

Atlantic Magazine writer Tom Nichols makes a different case.

“Twenty years after the United States led a coalition to overthrow Saddam Hussein, the conventional wisdom is now that the postwar fiasco proved that the war was a mistake from its inception.  The war, as it was executed, was indeed a disaster, but there was ample cause for launching it.”

Guess who wants no part of this debate?

George W. Bush.

Here is how writer Peter Baker put in the New York Times:

“Twenty years later, veterans are reflecting on their service and remembering fallen comrades.  Iraqis are talking about how their country has changed and how it has not.  American lawmakers are debating whether to finally repeal the legislation authorizing the invasion.

“One person not heard from in recent days:  Former President George W. Bush.

“That is how he wants it.  He has no interest in being part of the debate anymore.  He did what he did and does not engage in second-guessing, at least not out loud.  He knows the questions he would be asked if he spoke out now:  Was it worth it?  Does he regret it?  What would he have done differently?  How will history remember it?  

“As far as he is concerned, the world is better off without Saddam Hussein, and he has told advisers he has not changed his mind about that.”

I don’t have enough information to render a final judgment.  All I will say is that George W. Bush made a decision as president based on his judgment of the best intelligence information he had at the time – not what analysts contend now — and that’s good enough for me.

This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf.  Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist.  This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.  I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf.  The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie.  And it is where you want to be on a golf course.

Taylor Moore won his first PGA Golf event in Florida yesterday, but, with all due respect to him, his win is not what I will remember from the event.

Instead, this:

One of the players he beat – Adam Shenk – also was trying to win his first professional golf event.  At one point, one of the TV commentators said Schenk – it almost sounds like the bad golf word, “shank” right? – had been part of a threesome on the Korn Ferry Tour with these last names:

• Shenk (nearly “shank”)

• Yip

• Hack

If I had any of these last names and was trying to be a pro golfer, I would change it, at least when I played.

This reminded me of two things:

1. When I was serving as a starter at a Oregon Golf Association golf event for juniors, there was a player with the last name mentioned above – Shank.

I had to say his name out loud on the tee and it was all I could to do to pull it off.  Just imagine what this kid had to endure on a golf course!

• As I thought about the incredibly named threesome above, I also was reminded of the time two players on the PGA Tour were in the same group and they had two-letter last names – Bennett An and Kevin Na.  An and Na!

Okay enough of this, at least for today.