Saturday, May 22, 2021

On Politics: Biden tried to keep it boring. This week intervened.

His team is selling a calmer White House, but recent days showed that it can't outrun chaos.
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By Lisa Lerer

National Political Correspondent

Hi. Welcome to On Politics, your wrap-up of the week in national politics. I'm Lisa Lerer, your host.

Doug Mills/The New York Times

For the new president, the first 100 days were needles, checks and normalcy.

During the early months of his nascent administration, President Biden largely pursued his own agenda.

He got a $1.9 trillion stimulus plan passed, supercharged the distribution of vaccines and rolled out policies on infrastructure, child care, education, climate change and other Democratic priorities. The media gleefully reported on the return to norms in Washington. (Weekends! Press briefings! Grammatically correct tweets!) And Biden was allowed to be, well, boring.

The ability to keep a lower profile was a striking transformation for a politician who once described himself as a "gaffe machine." In fact, being boring became a kind of Biden superpower, as the new president's moderate tone and steady style helped deflect criticism of the roughly $6 trillion in new federal spending his administration proposed.

It wasn't that Biden no longer made news. But by swapping personality for policy, his team projected the image of a drama-free White House, focused on restoring calm after the chaos of the Trump administration.

Well, some chaos came back this week.

A series of crises has shown how quickly a presidential agenda can be overtaken and why, exactly, the first 100 days are often called the honeymoon period.

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Divisive issues are rapidly rising to the front of the national conversation, presenting early tests for the new White House. For some in the administration, they've come as an unwelcome distraction that threatens to knock the president off his carefully curated message.

This isn't a surprising turn: It is the unexpected that often defines a presidency. Bill Clinton entered office with little foreign policy experience but was quickly forced into messy conflicts in Haiti, Somalia and Rwanda. Terrorist attacks transformed George W. Bush's first term. In his second, a 90 percent approval rating that was built on his leadership after the Sept. 11 attacks was marred by his response to Hurricane Katrina, which became a modern metaphor for a mishandled crisis. Barack Obama took office in the midst of economic crisis and then faced the Deepwater Horizon oil spill. And Donald Trump's response to the coronavirus pandemic will be a central part of his legacy.

"I always say, you don't judge presidents by the agenda they set for themselves but by how they respond to the agenda that's set for them," said James Zogby, the founder of the Arab American Institute. "The agenda has now been set for President Biden."

But this White House, in particular, has shown a resistance to letting external events knock its plans off course. Biden's efforts to avoid those kinds of sprawling crises was clear in his response to the explosion of violence in Israel and Gaza this past week. His administration expressed no appetite for negotiating a peace agreement, instead pursuing what one former ambassador to Israel called "conflict management, rather than conflict resolution."

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While Biden largely stuck to the decades-old Democratic playbook of expressing solidarity with Israel, some in his party broke ranks to openly criticize his administration for what they viewed as a willingness to turn a blind eye to human rights abuses against Palestinians.

During a news conference on Friday, a day after Israel and Hamas agreed to a cease-fire, Biden said that Democrats still fully supported Israel, a position that is unlikely to satisfy many in his party's left flank.

"There is no shift in my commitment to the security of Israel," he said. "Period. No shift, not at all."

Past cease-fires between Israel and Hamas have proved fragile, making it unlikely that Biden can avoid the challenging issue for long.

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The Supreme Court thrust another historically divisive issue onto the administration's agenda this week, when the justices decided to take up a Mississippi abortion ban case that challenges Roe v. Wade. While his administration has rolled back Trump-era policies on reproductive rights, Biden himself has remained silent on the issue, even as state legislators passed an unprecedented 549 abortion restrictions over the past four months, according to the Guttmacher Institute, a research group that supports abortion rights.

Abortion rights supporters have begun pushing Biden to speak out more forcefully, and their calls are likely to escalate as the court's hearing draws closer.

Other challenges loom. While the record numbers of unaccompanied children crossing the southwestern border declined modestly last month, immigration remains a problem so intractable that it divides even Biden's allies. Fears of inflation threaten a fragile economy. And Democrats remain deeply divided over Biden's tax plans, which could complicate the passage of his infrastructure proposals.

In general, there's some evidence that huge failures of government — the kinds that cause crises for presidents — are happening more frequently.

Paul C. Light, a professor of public administration at New York University, has spent years tracking how presidents have handled "breakdowns" in the machinery of the federal government. Decades of government neglect, including the failure to upgrade technology and to modernize the Civil Service, have drastically increased the number of breakdowns in recent years. Biden, he argues, is unlikely to escape them for long.

Biden supporters say they're not worried, pointing to the popularity of his coronavirus relief bill and his handling of the pandemic.

"He has hit the ground running," said former Gov. Terry McAuliffe of Virginia, who is the likely Democratic nominee in the race for his old office this year. "If he continues on the path and doing the things he's doing, this honeymoon is going to go into the fourth wedding anniversary."

And Biden's administration says it came into office prepared to face a series of crises: a pandemic, an unstable economy, a racial reckoning and the second impeachment trial of the president's predecessor.

"We know how to multitask there," Vice President Kamala Harris told NPR days before taking the oath of office. "We have to multitask, which means, as with anyone, we have a lot of priorities and we need to see them through."

But these new issues divide Americans far more deeply than expanding vaccinations and handing out checks. Biden and his team have successfully avoided wading into controversy on many divisive issues with message discipline and a bit of luck. Whether they can maintain that balance as external events intrude will offer a far better measure of his presidency than any 100-day honeymoon.

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We want to hear from our readers. Have a question? We'll try to answer it. Have a comment? We're all ears. Email us at onpolitics@nytimes.com or message me on Twitter at @llerer.

By the numbers: 39 percent

… That's the percentage of people in rural counties who had been vaccinated as of April 10, compared with more than 46 percent in urban counties, according to a new report from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

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… Seriously

"You have a staffer who fully crawled on the carpet behind you, and it is the greatest thing I've ever seen."

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Friday, May 21, 2021

On Politics: How Texas Republicans want to recast history

Our reporter Simon Romero weighs in on proposals that could shape how future Texans see the world.
A memorial commemorating the site of the Battle of San Jacinto, the decisive battle of the Texas Revolution, during its construction in 1938 outside Houston.Associated Press

In the Trump era, California's Democratic-led state government emerged as a kind of resistance government-in-waiting. State lawmakers passed some of the nation's strictest environmental protections, took steps to ensure universal access to health insurance and filed dozens of lawsuits against Trump administration policies.

Now that the presidency has changed hands, the shoe is on the other foot. It's now Texas — the second-most-populous state in the country behind California, and by far the largest red state — that presents the starkest contrast to the White House.

On Monday, Gov. Greg Abbott, a Republican, announced that Texas would stop allowing its residents to receive federal pandemic-related unemployment benefits. That comes a few weeks after Abbott drew President Biden's ire when he lifted the state's mask mandate in defiance of federal health guidelines.

And in the State Legislature, controlled by Republicans, a number of bills proposed or passed in recent weeks — including rollbacks to abortion rights and new restrictions on voting — have rung out like a shot across the bow from the conservative movement.

In a recent article, our national correspondent Simon Romero took a look at a different set of proposals making their way through the Texas Legislature that could shape the way future Texans see the world. Specifically, these bills seek to prevent the state's grade-school students from learning about the role of racism and slavery in Texas' history.

I caught up with Simon today to talk about what these bills are trying to accomplish, and what impact they might have — both in Texas and beyond.

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Hi, Simon. The Texas Legislature has been getting a lot of attention recently for its push to restrict voting rights. But it is also engaged in an effort to essentially rewrite — or unwrite — parts of the state's history in grade-school curriculums. What's going on here?

The bigger picture is that this has been one of the most hard-line sessions in recent memory in the Texas Legislature. Conservative lawmakers have done everything from enacting a near-complete ban on abortions to restricting voting access. But they've also been focusing on other culture-war issues, like the teaching of Texas history, that are seen as important to their base.

Various pieces of proposed legislation that have made it through the Texas House would promote an essentially jingoistic approach to teaching state history. One of them could limit the ways in which teachers can explain how racist thinking in the 19th century influenced the drafting of laws. Another bill would create an "1836 Project" promoting what it calls "patriotic education" about the state's history. This bill would look at creating displays in parks and museums and come up with a pamphlet to be given to anyone getting a Texas driver's license. Historians I spoke with expressed a lot of concern that this measure could gloss over the history of slavery and campaigns of anti-Mexican violence in Texas.

As you note in the story, because of Texas' size and influence, changes to school curriculums there can have a big effect on educational materials that circulate well beyond the state. How does that play out? And have we seen this happen in the past?

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Some of this has to do with the sheer size of Texas, which has more than 29 million people. Textbook publishers found it was more profitable to take a book crafted to appeal to Texas' State Board of Education and market it, largely unchanged, in other states, rather than write an entirely different textbook.

But this sway that Texas has in shaping what's taught in other parts of the country also reflects exceptionally assertive efforts by conservative activists in Texas to influence what goes into textbooks in the state. For instance, a textbook in California might explain that court rulings about the Second Amendment allowed for some regulations of gun ownership, while a similar textbook in Texas would just leave that space blank.

It's also important to note that Democrats in Texas have been making inroads to curb such practices. Several have won seats on the State Board of Education, and in 2018 they succeeded in introducing a Mexican-American studies curriculum.

It's not just Texas' state government that is passing these kinds of laws to restrict the teaching of slavery and discrimination, right? Would it be accurate to say there's a broader movement afoot nationwide among conservative legislators, aimed at preventing schoolchildren from learning about the role of racism in American history?

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Absolutely. This is happening in Republican-controlled legislatures around the country. Lawmakers in states including Louisiana and New Hampshire have introduced similar bills that would essentially limit or even prohibit teaching about the legacies of slavery and segregationist policies that endure to this day.

But the Texas Legislature has taken things a lot further by looking specifically at the year 1836, when Texas seceded from Mexico, and at ways to bolster different Texas creation myths. The trouble with this approach is that it could open up a can of worms when people start looking at the reasons slaveholders in Texas fomented a revolt against Mexico, then explicitly legalized chattel slavery in a vast region where slavery had been prohibited by Mexico seven years earlier.

One measure being debated in Texas would also ban discussions of certain kinds of current events, and another would make much volunteer work related to social justice ineligible for school credit. Can you describe these policies, and what impact they might have on the way students are taught?

It's anyone's guess as to how these policies might look in practice. I've been in touch with teachers in Texas who are really just trying to figure this out. Democrats tried to amend one of the bills to require teaching of the Jan. 6 insurrection, but Republicans shot down that proposal. Some of the language in the bills is pretty specific, like prohibiting teachers from using The 1619 Project to discuss how slavery shaped U.S. history.

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Teachers are also worried about how these measures might change how basic civics issues are taught. For instance, students would not be able to get course credit for volunteering with a civil rights group or advocating for the rights of immigrants. These are big issues in a state where nearly 70 percent of children under 18 are people of color. Imagine you're the child of immigrants and you want to learn more about ways to protect your family in the American legal system. This could have a chilling effect on the ways teachers try to reach a lot of their students.

Once in thrall of 'the generals,' Congress now gives the orders on military issues.

By Jennifer Steinhauer

President Bill Clinton, newly elected and eager to fulfill a central campaign promise, moved in 1993 to end a ban on gay men and women in the military, but he was stymied by senior military officers, who coordinated with a deferential Democratic senator, Sam Nunn of Georgia.

More than 15 years later, Clinton's messy compromise, "don't ask, don't tell," was repealed, but only after a new generation of senior Defense Department officials told a hushed panel of reverent senators that the time had come.

The military's relationship with its civilian masters is regularly strained, as it was under Presidents Barack Obama and Donald Trump. But now, increasingly, it is lawmakers from both parties who are telling "the generals" how things are going to be, and less the other way around.

Senator Kirsten Gillibrand, Democrat of New York, has amassed scores of supporters needed to pass a bill that would break with tradition and remove military commanders from a role in prosecuting service members for sexual assault, after years of failing to win sufficient support in the face of Pentagon opposition.

Lawmakers on both ends of the political spectrum have increasingly joined forces to curtail the military. They are pushing their prerogatives on the president's powers to declare war, on troop levels overseas and on engagements in places like Syria, recently bolstered by President Biden's decision to withdraw fully from Afghanistan, against the wishes of military leaders.

The shift from reverence to skepticism in the legislative branch mirrors broader societal frustrations after two decades of wars, a pervasive problem of sexual assault and harassment of female troops, and the exposure of political extremism in the ranks.

"People in D.C. have a pretty strong political antenna, and it may be that the military brand is not what it used to be," said John Gans, who was the chief speechwriter to Ashton Carter when he served as defense secretary.

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The Ezra Klein Show: Violent crime is spiking. Do liberals have an answer?

On today's episode, Ezra was joined by James Forman Jr., a professor of law at Yale Law School and the Pulitzer Prize-winning author of "Locking Up Our Own: Crime and Punishment in Black America."

They discussed how violent crime continues to rise in the U.S., creating a crisis on two levels: the toll it takes on people and communities, and the way it can lead to more punitive, authoritarian and often racist policies. The challenge, they say, is how to stop crime while also reforming policing and criminal justice.

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