Though I would like to think my country was better than this, it's clear that many Americans hate President Barack Obama for the color of his skin. Many more—though there's some overlap—hate him for being a "socialist" or "foreign" or for the simple reason that he won a presidential election fair and square.
The anti-Obama rhetoric started, of course, in 2008 at McCain-Palin rallies, where audience members shouted things like "terrorist" and "kill him" at the mention of his name. Neither McCain nor Palin exerted much effort to quash the outbursts, so they grew, blossoming into all manner of outlandish behavior among tea baggers, birthers, health care forum shouters and even congresspeople like Michele Bachmann.
The near total lack of accountability for those responsible for inciting such hatred is chilling. But it was not until men armed with assault weapons started appearing outside venues where Pres. Obama was speaking that the slope seemed especially slippery.
Last week, an Arizona pastor told a Fox affiliate, "I hope God strikes Barack Obama with brain cancer so he can die like Ted Kennedy–I hope it happens today." The pastor added, "I will not take the law into my hands. I will not take up any arms…"
The reverend's words struck a chord of deja vu, not only reminding me of the line from Shakespeare's Richard II ("Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?") but also of William Manchester's The Death of a President. Here's what Manchester, whose papers are housed now at Wesleyan University, reported:
When President Kennedy was planning his fateful trip to Dallas, Sen. William Fulbright pleaded with him not to go, citing the "widespread local hatred for the president" and the animosity toward the federal government that "crossed the breakwater."
Dallas was known as the "Southwest hate capital of Dixie," the hatred fueled by religious fundamentalism, racist resentment and bigotry toward Catholics. Indeed, according to Manchester, talk of killing Kennedy was common in Texas, which was home to thriving John Birch and Patrick Henry societies, something called the Christian Crusaders, the Minutemen and the National Indignation Convention.
Down there, the Democratic Party was referred to as the "Democrat" Party (a locution reprised by George W. Bush), and Dallas was, reported Manchester, "one American metropolis in which incitement to violence had become respectable." Among the parlor games often played by members of high Dallas society was one called "Which Kennedy do you hate the most?" Manchester said that the "correct answers" were in this order: "1. Bobby, 2. Jack, 3. Teddy, 4. Jackie."
Also: "Jewish stores were smeared with crude swastikas…radical right polemics were distributed in public schools; Kennedy's name was booed in classrooms; junior executives were required to attend radical seminars." In short, the climate of hate and veiled threats of violence against the president was turbulent.
After Kennedy was murdered, the Warren Commission—more proof that it was not worth the paper its report was printed on—concluded that there was no connection between Kennedy's murder and Dallas' "general atmosphere of hate." Prime suspect Lee Harvey Oswald was conveniently dubbed a "loner," thus absolving the city of any connection, and he was, with equal convenience, dispatched by a Dallas "vigilante" before he could offer any testimony.
Back to Shakespeare: Henry, who usurped the throne and imprisoned King Richard II, laments to his servants, "Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?" One of his lackeys takes this as a tacit order to kill Richard. Afterward, Henry pretends to be horrified over the terrible misunderstanding.
