What are we to make of Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis’ bid for the presidency? After he was overwhelmingly reelected governor last November, the New York Post dubbed him “De Future.” But he stumbled early on the campaign trail — bleeding money and staffers, hardly confidence-inspiring in a man looking to become the most powerful executive in the world; sliding in the polls; and turning in a mediocre performance in the Republicans debate, after which everyone was talking about irritating, more-Trump-than-vous Vivek Ramaswamy and, to a lesser extent, disapproving schoolmarm Nikki Haley, Christian milquetoast Mike Pence, blustery Jersey boy Chris Christie and steel magnolia Asa Hutchinson.
DeSantis’ early campaign reminds us not only of his less-than-presidential gaffes — underestimating Disney as an opponent; characterizing the Russian invasion of Ukraine as a “territorial dispute” — but of his identity predicament. He was supposed to be the competent version of former President Donald J. Trump, a man whose administrative abilities would offset his, shall we say, vehemence and make up for a petulant stage presence.
But that vehemence and off-putting personality — his demonstrated hatred of “wokism” and anything he considers other — keep getting in the way of his message and his brand. He went all in on the ironically named Hurricane Idalia — from the Greek for “behold the sun” — delivering many updates. Fine. But when President Joe Biden, with whom he was in close contact for aid, came to visit, DeSantis was a no-show. Why? Part of being a leader is supposedly putting personal politics aside for the good of the people, as former New Jersey Gov. Christie did with former President Barack Obama during Superstorm Sandy in 2012. Obama even arranged for Christie, much criticized for putting an arm around Obama when the two met to survey Sandy damage, to meet his hero, Bruce Springsteen.
Idalia was part of a double whammy for DeSantis. Right before the hurricane struck, a racist gunman killed three Black Americans at a Dollar General store in Jacksonville, DeSantis’ birthplace. He and wife Casey attended an Aug. 27 vigil for the victims — Angela Michelle Carr, 52; Jerrald Gallion, 29; and store employee Anolt Joseph Laguerre Jr., 19. DeSantis pleged $1 million to boost security at Edgar Waters University, a historically Black college that may have been the shooter’s intended target. (He was turned away from the school for lack of proper identification.) DeSantis also promised $100,000 to a fund for the victims. All good.
At the vigil, he was booed, prompting Jacksonville Councilwoman Ju’Coby Pittman to intercede at the mike by saying, “We are going to put parties aside, because it ain’t about parties today….A bullet don't know a party."
But in a sense, a bullet does know a party. It does know disdain and disrespect. You can’t just sneer “woke,” demonize minorities, claim that slavery was a kind of early affirmative action program and expect to be loved in turn — or not to foment contempt. DeSantis may not have pulled the trigger, but he has contributed to a culture of hate that helped load the gun.
Instead of Pittman — whose eye was clearly on the #1 million prize — talking about nonpartisan politics when everything today is partisan, she should’ve quieted the crowd by saying simply, “Please show the governor and his office the respect that he has denied you.”
Contrast DeSantis’ mirthless performance with the late Sen. Robert F. Kennedy’s 1968 presidential bid and a stop at Indianapolis on the night the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated in Memphis — April 4. This was, of course, long before the internet. The Black crowd awaiting Kennedy didn’t know King was dead. Kennedy was advised to cancel. Instead, he spoke to and with the throng, not at or down to those gathered. Two months and two days later, he would die from an assassin’s bullet himself.
It’s worth quoting part of the speech, because Kennedy in turn quoted the ancient Greek playwright Aeschylus, whom he read often in his grief over the assassination of his brother, former President John F. Kennedy.
“For those of you who are Black and are tempted to be filled with hatred and distrust at the injustice of such an act, against all white people, I can only say that I feel in my own heart the same kind of feeling. I had a member of my family killed, but he was killed by a white man. But we have to make an effort in the United States. We have to make an effort to understand, to go beyond these rather difficult times.
“My favorite poet was Aeschylus. He wrote: ‘In our sleep, pain which cannot forget, falls drop by drop upon the heart until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.’”
DeSantis and much if not most of this country have little interest today in Aeschylus or the kind of broad, classical education that might elevate and save our nation. And yet, “the awful grace of God” will not be denied.