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Martin Luther King, Jr.’s Legacy was Political, Not Economic or Moral

King was a virtual socialist and probable sex offender, but that’s obviously not why we (rightly) honor him with a national holiday.

The Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday illustrates how federal holidays are properly used for civic purposes—and how they are politically misused for partisan and ideological purposes.

For civic purposes, we recall why, exactly, our nation honors King with a federal holiday. For partisan and ideological purposes, we recall other, more unsavory things about King that have nothing to do with the reasons we honor him and his legacy.

King’s universally lauded legacy involves completing the second American revolution that began during the Civil War, but which was stunted and reversed by the assassination of Abraham Lincoln and the disaster that was Reconstruction. A century of state-sanctioned and -enforced legal discrimination against blacks followed.

King ended this discrimination through his leadership of the civil rights movement of the 1950s and ’60s.

In so doing, he harkened back to the promise of the American founding as articulated in the Declaration of Independence—the notion that “all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness…”

Thus, by championing equal rights under the law, King was leading a thoroughly American movement fully in concert with the (classically liberal) American political tradition. This is the man and the legacy that we honor with a federal holiday; and that is why, as Dan McLaughlin observes:

The collapse of legal and political defenses of segregation and disenfranchisement between 1965 and 1969 was, in retrospect, staggering in its speed and scope.

A nation that had legal discrimination in many states in the mid-1960s had a national system of affirmative action, endorsed by both political parties at the time, by the decade’s end.

Legal discrimination against blacks was swept away so quickly because it was so obviously discordant with the American promise of equality under the law. King was summoning America to “live out the true meaning of its creed,” and his summoning resonated with a nation conceived in the classical liberal tradition.

Problematic Aspects. But of course, King was a flawed human being, not a plaster saint. And so, there are other aspects of the man and his legacy that political partisans, both left and right, seize upon for their own rank purposes.

In the last few years of his life—after passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, the Voting Rights Act of 1965, and the Twenty-Fourth Amendment to the Constitution outlawing poll taxes as a requirement for voting—King moved radically left. He pushed for the redistribution of wealth and a guaranteed income, while denouncing America’s defense of South Vietnam as morally unconscionable.

This is the King that modern-day socialists and leftists in the Democratic Party embrace and champion; and from their political perspective, of course, that is understandable. But that is not the King whom we honor with a federal holiday; and that King is inconsonant with the American founding.

King also was a notorious womanizer and sex offender whose reputation never would have survived the modern-day “Me Too” movement. Partisans on the far right use this aspect of King to try and discredit him; but again: we honor King for a very specific reason, and that reason has nothing to do with his personal moral failings.

The bottom line: Martin Luther King, Jr., like many  American political heroes, was a great but flawed human being. Not everything that he said or did warrants praise and commendation.

But the pivotal role that he played in ending state-sanctioned and -enforced discrimination against African Americans absolutely puts him in the pantheon of our country’s greatest political leaders.

We rightly honor this aspect of King’s legacy with a national holiday; but we ought to summarily reject the attempt by political partisans, both left and right, to hijack the King holiday for their own noxious purposes.

Feature photo credit: Martin Luther King, Jr.’s memorable words delivered during his “I Have a Dream” speech on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, Aug. 28, 1963, courtesy of KPLC Action News, southwest Louisiana.

Joe Manchin’s Profile in Courage

The Senator from West Virginia deserves, but won’t get, honor and gratitude for stopping Bernie Biden’s $5-Trillion ‘Build Back Better’ monstrosity. 

In 1956, Democratic Senator John F. Kennedy and his gifted speechwriter, Ted Sorenson, authored a Pulitzer Prize winning biography called Profiles in Courage.

The book celebrated eight United States Senators who exhibited rare political courage by taking principled stands, at great political cost to themselves, to do right by and for the country.

Today, we can, we should, and we must add one more name to Kennedy’s honored and revered list: Senator Joe Manchin.

True, by refusing to succumb to left-wing demands that he rubber-stamp Bernie Biden’s $5-Trillion “Build Back Better” monstrosity, Sen. Manchin is hardly defying the will of his constituents. To the contrary: Biden is deeply unpopular in West Virginia, and polls show that the vast majority of West Virginians oppose his “Build Back Better” monstrosity.

Still, Manchin is a Democrat and the one Senator whose vote can make or break this disastrously transformative legislation. As such, he is under tremendous political pressure to buckle under “for Joe,” “for his president,” and to be a “team player.”

In fact, far left Democratic senators, congressmen, and party activists have already taken to Twitter to impugn Manchin’s integrity and to heap opprobrium on him for daring to dissent from “progressive” party orthodoxy.

In a better world and a politically healthier country, Manchin’s brave and principled stand would be honored and applauded for what it is: a profile in courage. But instead, because Manchin is siding with conservatives and opposing “progressives,” he is (predictably) being demonized and cast as the toad in the road.

The authors of Profiles in Courage knew better and so do we.

Feature photo credit: Then Senator John F. Kennedy (left) and Senator Joe Manchin now (right), courtesy of 1957timecapsule.wordpress.com via the Daily JFK and the Associated Press via the Honolulu Star-Advertiserrespectively.

Yes, Let’s Rewrite History—Just Don’t Falsify It While Doing So

Historical Revisionism is nothing new and it’s actually a good thing. The falsification of history, however, is a more recent development; and that, obviously, is a bad thing.

On both the left and the right today, there’s a lot of concern about “rewriting history.”

“The entire effort to rewrite American history makes my blood boil,” writes a reader in the Fence Post, a nationwide agricultural newspaper that reaches more than 80,000 readers weekly.

“The Civil War happened. That’s a historic fact… The history of the Civil War will not go away just because it’s protested today.”

A left-wing writer, likewise, complains that the Democratic Party “is clearly uninterested in truth or accountability, and is more than willing to rewrite history to advance its political goals.”

Why does the writer say this? Because President Obama had the audacity this week to praise his predecessor, George W. Bush, for having “a basic regard for the rule of law and the importance of our institutions of democracy.”

Balderdash! says the writer, and Obama should know better.

Rewriting v. Falsifying. Of course, what these and other observers are criticizing is not the rewriting of history per se, but rather the falsifying of history as they see it. In truth, history is constantly being rewritten in light of new events and circumstances to glean lessons from the past.

This is a good and laudatory thing and something that should be encouraged. 

Some of the best history, in fact, is history that has been rewritten by historians who look back upon our past from a new angle or fame of reference to draw insights that may have been hidden or obscured by previous interpretations of history.

In 1957, for instance, an unknown assistant secretary of the Board of Governors of the Federal Reserve, Bray Hammond, wrote a magisterial history, Banks and Politics in America: From the Revolution the Civil War, that completely upended the history of Andrew Jackson and the Jacksonian era in American politics.

In so doing, Hammond took direct aim another great work of history, The Age of Jackson, by the acclaimed Harvard historian, Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr. The Age of Jackson (1945) was itself a work of revisionist historical scholarship that won rave reviews.

Both Hammond and Schlesinger, in fact, won the Pulitzer Prize for History for their respective books and have contributed mightily to our historical understanding.

Both books were sincere, good-faith attempts to interpret and make sense of the past. However, they employed contrasting analytical frameworks that created widely divergent narrative histories.

For Schlesinger, the Age of Jackson was all about class conflict and the efforts by the working and laboring classes to seek redress from the government against business domination and control. In so doing, Schlesinger argued, Jackson was the precursor to Franklin Roosevelt and the New Deal.

Schlesinger thus broke from the previously dominant historical narrative, which argued that sectional differences, not class differences, defined American politics in the Age of Jackson; and that Jackson himself was the political embodiment of the country’s ascendant western frontier.

Hammond, meanwhile, offered an altogether different interpretation dubbed the entrepreneurial thesis.

Hammond argued that the Jacksonian era was, indeed, defined through class conflict. However, the class conflict pitted not the laboring classes against the business interests, but rather a new class of entrepreneurs and speculators who conspired against the old monied interests. This new class was eager for easy money to fuel their entrepreneurial and speculative ventures. 

The Jacksonians, Hammond argued, employed virtuous and high-minded democratic rhetoric to conceal their true motives and true objectives, which were self-interested and self-serving. And the end result of their attack on America’s Second National Bank, Hammond wrote, were economically damaging and reverberated for decades.

All three of these historical interpretations—the initially dominant sectional conflict thesis, Schlesinger’s class conflict thesis, and Hammond’s entrepreneurial thesis—involved rewriting history.

However, none of these interpretations involved falsifying history, and that is a crucial distinction. The essential historical facts in question were all agreed upon and not in dispute.

What was in dispute (and still is to a considerable extent) is how to interpret and apply those facts to our understanding of history.

To be sure, sometimes newly discovered facts are unearthed that alter our understanding of history. That certainly was the case with Banks and Politics in America: From the Revolution the Civil War.

Because he worked for the Federal Reserve, Hammond understood banking and finance in a way that Schlesinger and previous historians simply did not. Thus he was able to bring to light new facts that helped to explain how the Second Bank worked and what its demise meant for the U.S. economy.

Still, in the main, the disagreements here are not about the facts of history; they are about the interpretation and application of those facts.

False History. This is not to say that all interpretations of history are equally valid or legitimate. To the contrary: there is such a thing as bad, biased, and simply false history or historical writing. Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States comes to mind.

Historian Michael Kazin (no conservative, by the way, but rather, a man of the left) called A People’s Historya Manichean fable… better suited to a conspiracy-monger’s website than to a work of scholarship.” Another reviewer called the book “absolutely atrocious agit-prop.”

In short, Zinn was a Marxist political activist, not a serious and fair-minded historian, and there is real difference between these two types. But for serious historians, disagreements in interpretation and analysis can be legitimate and illuminating.

The real risk is that an historian can become so blinded by his frame of reference that he distorts or falsifies history by omitting or glossing over other critical facts and perspectives that complicate or contradict his thesis.

James Bouie. This is what appears to have happened to New York Times columnist Jamelle Bouie.

Although Bouie is a journalist, and not an historian per se, he is, nonetheless, a serious student of history. However, in his zeal to argue that America’s black slaves were not simply passive victims, but instead, had real agency and self-awareness, he offers up a very bad and inaccurate historical account.

“Neither Abraham Lincoln nor the Republican Party freed the slaves,” Bouie brazenly asserts in a recent column.

They helped set freedom in motion and eventually codified it into law with the 13th Amendment, but they were not themselves responsible for the end of slavery. They were not the ones who brought about its final destruction.

Who freed the slaves? The slaves freed the slaves.

This is complete nonsense. As National Review’s Dan McLaughlin points out in a thorough debunking of Bouie’s thesis:

Bouie is right that black Americans played a significant role in contributing to the abolitionist movement, the escalating sectional tensions that led to secession, the transformation of the Civil War in the North from a war for the Union to a war of liberation, and the Union’s victory.

He is wrong to claim that those contributions in and of themselves were enough to bring about the end of slavery, and that Lincoln, the Republicans, the Union Army, and the majority of the American population were merely passive conduits, bobbing like a cork on the unstoppable streams of history.

Bouie skips the crucial step. All the abolitionist agitation in the world only mattered because the people with real political, military, cultural, and economic power in America—the federal government, Northern state governments, the military, the churches, the leaders of the economy, and ultimately, the voting public—eventually chose to side with the abolitionist movement.

It was not a given that they would; in the 1820s and 1830s, they had chosen not to.

In short, Bouie took a legitimate historical insight—that America’s black slaves helped to effect their emancipation—and blew it up into a holistic explanation when it quite obviously is nothing of the sort.

Historical Moment. So, what does this have do with our present political and historical moment?

Well, American history today is under fire and under review in a way that it has not been in quite some time if ever. Indeed, the very legitimacy of the American founding is being called in to question, as “woke,” left-wing radicals seek to advance a far-left agenda.

For this reason, we are seeing historical statues and monuments being toppled, vandalized and defaced as new historical narratives are introduced into the public debate and foisted upon the public.

In key respects, these new historical narratives are really not new. They’ve been adopted in colleges and universities, elementary and secondary schools, for decades, and they are not entirely bad.

They typically give greater historical weight to the experiences of blacks, Indians or native Americans, women, and other marginalized groups.

Cultural Marxists. But as with Howard Zinn’s People’s History and James Bouie’s column, these narratives often are highly politicized and distorted, and designed to advance an explicitly left-wing political agenda.

Their intent is to deconstruct America and create a new country that will embody Marxian and socialist ideals.

But whereas Marx believed that capitalism could be undermined by appeals to the proletariat or working class, his modern-day heirs recognize that America’s greatest source of vulnerability and weakness lie in its racially troubled past; and that appeals to white guilt and black racial grievance are far better suited to deconstruct and remake the United States.

This means that we should be wary and discerning of new historical narratives, and equally wary and discerning of historical groupthink and consensus.

Simplistic and reductionist histories that attempt to explain the past through one narrow prism are especially suspect. History, like life itself, is complicated and typically results from a variety of sometimes seemingly irreconcilable factors and decisions.

All of us, moreover, are going to have to become better consumers of history. This means referring to source documents—many of which are available on the Internet—and making our own assessments of the past.

Patriots, meanwhile, liberal and conservative, must engage in their own historical revisionism. We must rewrite history for a new generation of Americans: poorly educated, ill-informed, and lacking in historical knowledge and perspective.

This new generation has been fed a lie—to wit: that American history is a source of shame; and that Western Civilization itself is a mistake that must be corrected. But in truth, what must be corrected is this false and dangerous narrative.

That means rewriting history in light of modern-day circumstances to illuminate the past for a people increasingly haunted by the darkness. 

Feature photo credit: Historian Arthur M. Schlesinger Jr. via the Washington Examiner.

Why We Should Retain Confederate War Memorials and Statues

To simple-minded critics trying to score cheap political points, the statues and monuments are all about “racism” and “white supremacy.”

To historians with a deeper and more profound understanding, it is all about recognizing the debt that we owe our ancestors.

Is there any good or legitimate reason to honor and celebrate soldiers who fought for the South in the Confederate States Army? Or is doing so simply a reflection of “racism” and “white supremacy”?

This is the crux of the issue that hangs over the movement to remove Confederate War memorials and statues.

To modern-day political and cultural elites, the answer is obvious: Because the Civil War was fought over slavery, racism and white supremacy necessarily impugn the Confederates. Nothing more need be said. The monuments and statues must go.

As Max Boot puts it:

When we celebrate Confederates, we do so because of their racism. By contrast, when we celebrate other great Americans, from Jefferson to Theodore Roosevelt, we do so despite their racism. That’s a crucial distinction that should not be lost in the heat of the moment.

Boot is a military historian who has written some fine works of military history. But the distinction that he draws here is ludicrous, utterly ahistorical, and in defiance of all reason.

In fact, Boot should know better than most why there is and ought to be an honored place in the pantheon of American history for the Southern soldiers of the Confederacy and why we ought to honor them with statues and memorials.

Martial Valor. The reason, obviously, has nothing to do with racism and white supremacy. Instead, it has to do with the courage, skill, valor, and tenacity of the Southern soldiers.

Their boldness, bravery, and derring-do against a larger, better-equipped, and more plodding Union Army determined to unimaginatively grind them into extinction was truly laudatory and heroic.

Indeed, as James Webb points out in his superb book, Born Fighting: How the Scots-Irish Shaped America:

The Southern army was a living thing emanating from the spirit of its soldiers—daring, frequently impatient, always outnumbered, often innovative, relying on the unexpected, and counting on the boldness of its leaders and the personal loyalties of those who followed.

The Northern army was most often run like a business, solving a problem. The Southern army was run like a family, confronting a human crisis.

The South, Webb explains, 

saw 90 percent of its adult male population serve as soldiers and 70 percent of these became casualties, some 256,000 of them dead, including, astoundingly, 77 of the 425 generals who led them.

The North, by contrast, lost 365,000 soldiers and 47 of its 538 generals, a casualty rate in each case less than half that of the South.

The men of the Confederate Army gave every ounce of courage and loyalty to a leadership they trusted and respected, then laid down their arms in an instant—declining to fight a guerrilla war—when that leadership decided that enough was enough.

Slavery. But weren’t the Southerners fighting for an evil cause, slavery, and doesn’t that necessarily mean they dishonored themselves and are unworthy of our respect and admiration?

In a word, no. As Boot well knows, one of the main tasks of an historian is to understand the actions of historical figures through their eyes and within the context of their time.

While it is indisputably true that the Civil War was fought over slavery, it is equally true that the vast majority of Southerners did not own slaves and did not see themselves as fighting on behalf of slavery.

In fact, less than five percent of Southerners owned slaves; and, according to historian John Hope Franklin (quoted by Webb):

Fully three-fourths of the white people of the South had neither slaves nor an immediate economic interest in the maintenance of slavery or the plantation system.

“To tar the sacrifices of the Confederate soldier as simple acts of racism, and reduce the battle flag under which he fought to nothing more than the symbol of racist heritage,” Webb writes, “is one of the great blasphemies of our modern age.”

Resisting Aggression. “Why, then, did he [the Southern soldier] fight?”

Again, Webb explains:

It might seem odd in these modern times, but the Confederate soldier fought because, on the one hand, in his view he was provoked, intimidated, and ultimately invaded, and, on the other, his leaders had convinced him that this was a war of independence in the same sense as the Revolutionary War.

For those who can remove themselves from the slavery issue and examine the traits that characterize the Scots-Irish culture, the unbending ferocity of the Confederate soldier is little more than a continuum.

This was not so much a learned response to historical events as it was a cultural approach that had been refined by centuries of similar experience.

The tendency to resist outside aggression was bred deeply into every heart—and still is today.

For readers unfamiliar with what Webb means here, he is referring to the historical experience of the Scots-Irish. They had been fighting for centuries dating back to Roman times, when their Celtic ancestors refused to submit to Roman conquest, choosing instead to “die on the battlefield with sword in hand.”

The Scots-Irish eventually made their way to America, where they retained a ferocious sense of independence, pride and self-sufficiency. And, because of their distinguishing warrior ethos and history, they formed the backbone of the U.S. military, from the time of the American Revolution through the Civil War and even today.

“The bulk of the Confederate Army, including most of its leaders, was Scots-Irish, while the bulk of the Union Army and its leadership was not,” Webb writes.

“No one but a fool—or a bigot in their own right,” he adds—“would call on the descendants of those Confederate veterans to forget the sacrifices of those who went before them, or argue that they should not be remembered with honor.”

Distinctions. Ironically, Boot prides himself on making “fine distinctions” to determine whether someone should be honored with a statue or memorial.

“The rule of thumb,” he says, “should be that those who contributed a great deal to the development of our country deserve to be recognized, however flawed they were as human beings.”

That sounds reasonable. Yet, Boot seems clueless about the genuinely great contribution to our country made by the Scots-Irish and other white Southerners who fought in the Confederate Army.

Their contributions—to the American military specifically to American culture more generally—were and are, as Webb well describes, deeply felt and long-lasting.

Evil. Moreover, although he prides himself on making “fine distinctions,” Boot makes no distinction between the American South and Nazi Germany. Both are evil, he says.

But of course, the United States is not now and never was Nazi Germany, and the American South was and is part of the United States.

There are, needless to say, huge differences, ideologically and morally, between a country (Nazi Germany) engaged in genocidal world conquest and a region (the American South) seeking to resist (Northern) domination and retain its independence while holding on to an institution (slavery) that had been practiced and accepted for millennia, worldwide and since ancient times.

This is not to suggest that slavery was anything less than an abomination. Instead, it is to say that historical perspective, context, and understanding are necessary, important and required—and Boot, an accomplished historian, should understand this.

As Webb points out: 

The greatest disservice on this count has been the attempt by these revisionist politicians and academics to defame the entire Confederate Army in a move that can only be termed the Nazification of the Confederacy…

The syllogism goes something like this: Slavery was evil. The soldiers of the Confederacy fought for a system that wished to preserve it. Therefore they were evil as well, and any attempt to honor their service is a veiled effort to glorify the cause of slavery…

It goes without saying—but unfortunately it must be said—that morality and decency were traits shared by both sides in this war, to an extent that was uncommon in about any other war America has fought.

Webb quotes the esteemed historian Henry Steele Commager:

The men in blue and gray… had character. They knew what they were fighting for, as well as men every know this, and they fought with a courage and tenacity rarely equaled in history…

Both people subscribed to the same moral values and observed the same standards of conduct. Both were convinced that the cause for which they fought was just—and their descendants still are.

In short, we can argue about the merits of this or that particular statue or memorial. However, there should be no doubt that the men who fought for the South in the Confederate Army deserve our respect and admiration.

They deserve to be honored, commemorated and memorialized. And a country that appreciates its inheritance and recognizes the sacrifices of generations past should understand this.

Feature photo credit: Jim Webb (left) via Politico and Max Boot (right) via the Washington Post.

George W. Bush’s Character and Devotion to Duty Stand in Sharp Contrast To Trump’s Zeal for Self-Aggrandizement

Like us, Yuval Levin notes with interest Matthew Mosk’s piece on George W. Bush’s prescient push, back in 2005-06, to prepare the nation to confront a pandemic. However, unlike us, he doesn’t believe that Bush’s effort is best understood as a rebuke to the presidents (most notably Trump) who have followed him.

Instead, argues Levin, 

I think it is better understood as a story about the immense array of problems and threats that every president has to face, and the enormous difficulty, indeed near-impossibility, of being prepared for freak events.

The fact is that many of us involved in the Bush-era effort wondered why we were doing it, and whether it was a good use of time and energy.

Fran Townsend, who was Bush’s chief Homeland Security advisor, has this to say in that ABC story about her first reaction when Bush approached her about pandemic preparedness:

“My reaction was — I’m buried. I’m dealing with counterterrorism. Hurricane season. Wildfires. I’m like, ‘What?’” Townsend said. “He said to me, ‘It may not happen on our watch, but the nation needs the plan.’”

I have to admit that a lot of us more junior folks involved in the effort had the same sense.

The work was very intensely driven by Bush himself. He had read John Barry’s then-new book The Great Influenza, about the 1918 Spanish Flu, and was focused on the challenges an outbreak like that would pose to a modern government, and on the sorts of hard decisions he as president would face if it came.

Character Counts. But isn’t that exactly the point? Bush was substantively and intellectually engaged in a way that Trump is not. Bush was sober-minded and conscientious in a way that Trump is not. He took seriously his responsibilities as president in a way that Trump does not.

Bush recognized that, as president, he was the custodian of an institution that has a deep and praiseworthy historical pedigree and a profound sense of moral purpose.

Trump recognizes only that, as president, he is able to command the daily news cycle and show up simultaneously on all of the cable news channels. The only morality that he recognizes is that which aggrandizes his own inflated ego, and history is utterly foreign to him.

Levin acknowledges

that attitude, that sense of profound personal responsibility for decision-making in a crisis, is one of the things that stands out most to me about Bush, particularly now in retrospect. It was enormously impressive.

Yet, he refrains from drawing the obvious conclusion, which is: we need presidents—and political leaders more generally—who are more like Bush than Trump.

We need presidents with a sense of history, intellectual curiosity, and engagement with the wider world. Most important, we need presidents more devoted to duty than to self-aggrandizement. 

Levin surely recognizes this. Yet, he writes:

I think a more reasonable reading of the evidence is that it’s practically impossible to guess correctly about what sudden emergency our government will need to be prepared for, and it makes sense to gird for the unexpected and build as much all-purpose mobilization capacity as reasonably possible.

More than anything, it’s a lesson in how difficult and daunting the president’s job, regardless of who occupies the office, really is.

Devotion to Duty. This is silly. Of course the president’s job is challenging and difficult. But no one expects the president to “guess correctly about what sudden emergency our government will need to be prepared for.” That’s a red herring.

What we do expect, and should expect, is that the president is sufficiently engaged such that he is alert to potential dangers that threaten the health and safety of the American people; and that he acts to confront those threats. 

That’s what Bush did after the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks, and in the Global War on Terror more generally. And it is why he insisted that his administration prepare for a pandemic—despite everything else that was going on at the time, including Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, the response to Hurricane Katrina, dealing with the California wildfires, et al.

Moreover, with regard to the coronavirus, no great powers of clairvoyance were required. As Business Insider’s John Haltiwanger and Sonam Sheth reported March 31, 2020:

A series of media reports over the last several weeks revealed that Trump ignored multiple warnings about the prospect of a devastating pandemic that would overwhelm the country’s healthcare system and later publicly downplayed the virus after it reached the U.S…

US intelligence officials were warning Trump about a pandemic as early as January, the Washington Post reported, as more information emerged on the respiratory virus spreading in China.

The president was receiving the briefings at the same time that he publicly downplayed the risk of the virus.

By the end of January and beginning of February, a majority of the intelligence contained in Trump’s daily briefings was about the coronavirus, the report said.

“The system was blinking red,” one US official with access to the intelligence told The Post. “Donald Trump may not have been expecting this, but a lot of other people in the government were—they just couldn’t get him to do anything about it.”

My point, though, isn’t that Trump failed to anticipate and confront the coronavirus in a timely manner which would have saved many American lives. That much is obviously true. But failure, as Levin rightly points out, is inevitable—and, I would add, forgivable.

But what is utterly unforgivable is failing to do your job well and conscientiously, so that you can minimize the likelihood of failure.

Indeed, Trump’s sin isn’t that he failed; it’s that he never adequately tried because of character defects and intellectual deficiencies that render him incapable of fulfilling his duties as president.

George W. Bush wasn’t a genius, and no president need be a genius. But he cared deeply about his obligations as president; and he put the nation’s welfare above his own political self-interest.

Bush paid a heavy political price for his unwavering devotion to duty. History, though, will view him much more kindly as a result. And make no mistake: we need more like him in the Oval Office.

Feature photo credit: USA Herald.