The Charlottesville Hoax Hoax

After Donald Trump’s losing debate against Vice President Kamala Harris last week, the whiner-in-chief and his cultish acolytes groused that the ABC News moderators, David Muir and Linsey Davis, only applied real-time fact-checking to him and not Harris. The simple explanation was that Trump boldly lied about three dozen times—including outrageously claiming, as part of a fascistic and racist disinformation campaign, that legal Haitian immigrants in Springfield, Ohio, were pilfering pets and devouring them—and Harris only a few times veered outside the usual boundaries of political spin.

Yet one example Trump and his defenders hammered was Harris’ invocation of Trump’s response to the 2017 white supremacist demonstration in Charlottesville, Virginia, dubbed the Unite the Right rally, which resulted in the murder of counterprotester Heather Heyer. Slamming Trump for his incitement of the January 6 riot and his support of far-right extremists, Harris said, “Let's remember Charlottesville, where there was a mob of people carrying tiki torches, spewing antisemitic hate, and what did the president then at the time say? There were ‘fine people’ on each side.”

For years, Trump and his followers have contended that he was falsely depicted by the media and the libs of speaking positively about racists and neo-Nazis. They dubbed it the “Charlottesville hoax.” And following the debate, they asserted that Muir and Davis’ failure to challenge this Harris statement was a sign that ABC News had unfairly managed the face-off to hurt Trump.

Trump led the way. Two days after the debate, he complained:

She talked about the Charlottesville hoax, and these people [Muir and Davis] did nothing about it—which has been totally debunked by, as they say by, Snopes and snoops and everybody else. And go look it up. Go to snoops. Whatever the hell that is.

Snopes.com is a fact-checking site that focuses on urban legends, folklore, myths, rumors, and misinformation. In June it did release a fact-check that declared it was false to say Trump had called the neo-Nazis and white supremacists who attended the rally “very fine people.” It noted that Trump had indeed said there were "very fine people on both sides," referring to the protesters and counterprotesters, but pointed out that Trump noted in the same statement that he wasn't talking about neo-Nazis and white nationalists, who he said should be "condemned totally."

But there was a problem with the fact-check. While Trump had offered criticism of the far-right racist radicals, there were no other people on the other side. His insistence that there had been decent folks within the ranks of the Unite the Right protest—which was organized by Nazis and white supremacists—was an utterly inaccurate assertion. It conveyed a false moral equivalency and provided, to a degree, acceptance of this hatefest. Trump was essentially saying, “It wasn’t all bad.”

Here's a brief account of what happened. On the night of August 11, 2017, scores of white supremacists and Nazis bearing tiki torches marched through the University of Virginia campus in Charlottesville, chanting “white lives matter” and “Jews will not replace us.” This parade of hate was a prelude to the following day’s Unite the Right rally, organized by racists to protest the proposed removal of a statue of Robert E. Lee. That next morning, Klansmen, right-wing militia members, and other racist extremists waving Confederate flags and Nazi banners gathered. Some were armed with semiautomatic weapons. Some wore red MAGA hats. They clashed with counterdemonstrators, and in the conflict a white nationalist drove his Dodge Challenger into a group of counterprotesters, killing Heyer.

The nation was shocked by this racist violence. Trump responded with a tweet that merely said, “Charlottesville sad!” Then he read a statement denouncing “this egregious display of hatred, bigotry, and violence” and ad-libbed, “On many sides, on many sides.” Many sides? In his first full comment on this tragedy, Trump was establishing an equivalency between the white supremacists and those protesting them.

Two days later, top Trump administration officials, including FBI Director Christopher Wray, told him he needed to state clearly that the Klan and the Nazis were responsible for the violence. Trump countered that the racist protesters were right to oppose the removal of the Lee statue. Yet afterward he did read another statement saying, “Racism is evil. And those who cause violence in its name are criminals and thugs, including the KKK, neo-Nazis, white supremacists, and other hate groups.”

Trump should have stopped there. But he held a press conference the following day, and he defended all his comments on Charlottesville, decried the removal of the Confederate statue, and said of the Unite the Right protesters, “Not all of those people were neo-Nazis, believe me. Not all those people were white supremacists by any stretch.” And this was when he remarked that there had been “very fine people on both sides.” A few sentences later, he added,

“I'm not talking about the neo-Nazis and the white nationalists, because they should be condemned totally. But you had many people in that group other than neo-Nazis and white nationalists, okay? And the press has treated them absolutely unfairly. Now, in the other group also, you had some fine people, but you also had troublemakers, and you see them come with the black outfits, and with the helmets, and the baseball bats, you got a lot of bad people in the other group too.

The “very fine people” line received the most attention. Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell commented, “There are no good neo-Nazis.” Meanwhile, former Klan chief David Duke and Richard Spencer, a white nationalist leader, hailed Trump for his comments. They felt these remarks benefitted them.

Looking at this whole saga, it’s clear that Trump yearned to both-sides this episode of right-wing racist violence. His first full statement cited hatred and bigotry on “many sides.” Then he tried to whitewash the Unite the Right rally by stating it had included “very fine people,” while denigrating those who had come to oppose it. He did say that neo-Nazis and white nationalist should be “condemned.” But Trump was suggesting that this racist event was not that bad because it included others. The rally, though, was organized by Nazis and white supremacists. It was not co-sponsored by Country Club Republicans for Robert E. Lee. There were no “very fine people” on the Nazi side. With that remark, Trump could only be referring to white supremacists and Nazis. Asserting good-hearted people were part of the Unite the Right hate-a-thon was a partial legitimization of this horrific gathering.

After Snopes issued its fact-check—which drew much criticism—it added an editor’s note: “This fact check aimed to confirm what Trump actually said, not whether what he said was true or false. For the record, virtually every source that covered the Unite the Right debacle concluded that it was conceived of, led by and attended by white supremacists, and that therefore Trump's characterization was wrong.”

The reason why the Snopes fact-checkers stumbled was because Trump—after his initial misguided statement and pressure from his aides—tried to have it both ways and made stuff up. He decried neo-Nazis and white supremacists but maintained that the crowd of neo-Nazis and white supremacists—some wearing his favorite MAGA baseball cap—included “very fine people” when it did not.

Harris had it right at the debate. That infamous comment showed that Trump was unable to simply call a racist Nazi mob a racist Nazi mob. He had to find some value in it and put forward a quasi-defense of these miscreants. And, as Harris noted, it was just one instance that illuminates Trump’s racism and his fondness for political extremism and violence. As he and his running mate now whip up racist hatred against legal migrants who happen to be people of color, it is not an opportune time for Trump and his enablers to relitigate Charlottesville. If one were to say his “very fine people” remark was a sign of Trump’s accepting attitude toward racism and extremism, a fact-checker would have to declare that true.

Got anything to say about this item—or anything else? Email me at ourland.corn@gmail.com.

A few years ago, I thought it could be problematic for liberals to use the f-word (“fascism”) when criticizing Trump and his diehard right-wing allies. I wondered if it would come across as hyperbolic or even hysterical to independent or low-engaged voters and make progressives seem not credible. Well, that was then. Since he left office after inciting the January 6 riot, Trump has continued to display his desire to rule as a race-baiting autocrat, and the GOP has supported him. Moreover, the past week has illuminated his embrace of fascistic tactics, as Trump and his evil sidekick, JD Vance, have demonized legal residents of Springfield, Ohio—Haitians—with false claims of pet-eating to exploit racist hatred and possibly stir violence to win an election.

Of all the deplorable things Trump has done since gliding down that escalator at Trump Tower in 2015 amid a crowd of paid extras, this is one of the ugliest. He has viciously assailed a minority group legally living in Springfield (after being recruited to come to that town to take jobs that were not being filled) as illegal immigrants destroying the community. His promotion of this racist disinformation has provoked bomb threats at schools, government agencies, and hospitals there. The mayor of the town has pleaded for Trump and Vance to stop their dangerous crusade. And they haven’t.

Here is one example of what Trump and Vance have provoked. My Mother Jones colleague Noah Lanard reported over the weekend that this handbill was being distributed by the Klan in Springfield:

Yes, Trump and Vance are bolstering white supremacists. They evince no shame for allying themselves with such cretins. What’s worse is that as far as I’ve seen their fascistic and racist behavior has not prompted significant criticism from Republicans. Gov. Mike DeWine on ABC News on Sunday did indicate that Trump and Vance were spreading false accusations. When asked if there was any evidence of Haitian migrants eating pets, he said, “Absolutely not,” and added, “The Haitians who are in Springfield are legal. They came to Springfield to work. Ohio is on the move and Springfield has really made a great resurgence.” He called Trump and Vance’s attack “ridiculous.” Yet DeWine affirmed that he still supports Trump, saying, “If you look at the economy issues...Trump is the best choice.”

This is how fascists succeed. They exploit racism, bigotry, and tribalism to delegitimize and dehumanize out-groups to foment hate to forge a bond with a large slice of the populace, and they count on elites to go along with their demagoguery for a variety of reasons (economic gain, ambition, power, and/or fear). That is what has been happening within the Republican Party. With nearly half of GOP voters (and 52 percent of Trump voters) believing that Haitian immigrants are abducting and eating pet dogs and cats, Republican officials are not disavowing Trump and Vance and their racist crusade.

The good news, I suppose: Only a quarter of independent voters are buying this swill. That’s too much, but it’s an indication Trump and Vance’s attempt to win votes by vilifying Haitians in Springfield may not succeed. In the pre-Trump era, such nefariousness might have caused Republicans to break with their nominee. But we are long past that. Trump has made authoritarianism, racism, and extremism fully acceptable within the GOP and beyond. He has opened the door to fascism.

Eastbound, Maylis de Kerangal. Magic realism is a term often applied to the fiction of Gabriel García Márquez and describes the injection of magical elements into an otherwise grounded-in-reality tale. Yet as I read French author Maylis de Kerangal’s short novel Eastbound, it came to mind. Not because there’s any physics-defying actions in the story. Instead, there’s the magic of improbability. The novel follows a journey on the Trans-Siberian Railway that lasts a day or so in which a 20-year-old army conscript named Aliocha encounters a thirtysomething French woman named Helene, and the pair forge a partnership of escape. He is attempting to flee his battalion, which is being shipped somewhere unknown in eastern Russia. She is on the run from her Russian lover, whom she had met in France and who had brought her with him when he was dispatched to Siberia to be the manager of a dam. Aliocha can’t bear the thought of being imprisoned in a soldier’s life. Helene couldn’t stand being isolated in Siberia; love was not enough. A chance encounter on the train brings them together. Neither speaks the other’s language. They communicate with hand gestures. And Aliocha, with a slight degree of force, enlists Helene to help him evade the jerk of a sergeant who is on the lookout for would-be deserters.

De Kerangal’s writing—as presented by translator Jessica Moore—is exquisite. She captures the claustrophobic environment of the train and commandingly conveys a sense of time. The clack of the tracks sync up with the tense seconds that pass by, underlying a long stretch of suspense.

This is how she depicts the two meeting in the rear cabin on the train:

Abruptly, he moves to the side and motions to the woman to come to the window, pozhaluista, please. The woman hesitates, then comes forward, but it’s all dark beyond, millenary and organic and she can’t see anything, not even the rails that erase themselves in the shadows. She presses her forehead to the cold glass and her hands shape a telescope around her eyes, blocking the reflection She smells of flower and smoke. Aliocha looks at her—the transparent cartilage of her nose, her ductile profile—and reaches out to tap her on the shoulder. She starts and turns toward him, he points an index finger at his thorax and says, Aliocha. The woman, looking in his eyes for the first time, surprised by the boy’s bluntness, places a hand in turn on her chest and says, Helene.

It is to de Kerangal’s credit that she can pour so much into the confined and short space of this one train ride. How these two people have come to meet and become allies is, in a way, one of those mysteries of life. It’s unclear why Helene opts to assist Aliocha. Perhaps she recognizes a desperation that she herself is contending with. This is never explained. But there’s no need to. It happens. The intersection of the two seems plausible, but also a bit magical.

De Kerangal’s prose and storytelling remind me of the novels of Michael Ondaatje, best known for The English Patient (but read his other books!). She has long been recognized as a talent within the literary world, but she’s not a big name in the US market. Eastbound was published in France in 2012 but only released here last year, earning positive notice from the New York Times and the New Yorker. It was worth the wait, and I’m keen to explore her other works.