Courage & Cowardice

Hello.

I once met Katharine Graham at an intimate dinner party with five or six other people in her Georgetown mansion. It was early 1992 and the presidential primary season was just beginning. On the Democratic side, the field was still wide open; there were no obvious front-runners. Mrs. Graham sat mostly quietly at the table, making dainty small talk. The others of us — possibly trying to impress her; I know I surely was — discussed politics as knowledgeably as we could. Various theories were raised as to who the candidate would be. There was no consensus. There was no shortage of half-baked theories. Finally, at a break in the argument, Mrs. Graham said faintly, almost demurely, “It will be Clinton, I think.”

She knew. Suddenly, we all knew she knew.

Katharine Graham was a monumentally great leader. She had the hallmark only great leaders have: When she said something, you listened intently, not out of obeisance or fear for your job but because of respect for the person. When she made a decision, you might agree or disagree with her, but you never doubted, even for an instant, that the decision was made with integrity and without self-interest. That is not something a leader can demand, through power; it is something earned, through actions. It inevitably accompanies a commanding strength of character.

On June 18, 1971, The Washington Post began publishing the Pentagon Papers at a time of extraordinary tension between the media and Richard Nixon’s occultly corrupt government. The decision had been made the day before by the only person with the power to do it: Katharine Graham. Printing the stolen material was possibly a felony. The New York Times had just been enjoined by a court from publishing the documents. It was not unlikely that Nixon’s Justice Department would seek criminal penalties from The Post for breaching that order.

During a dinner party at the same Georgetown mansion, with the very survival of her newspaper at stake — the government wielded enormous economic power over the media, particularly through licensing of their broadcast affiliates — Mrs. Graham considered a few moments, then gave the order in five two-word bites: “Go ahead. Go ahead. Go ahead. Let’s go. Let’s publish.” When her lawyers warned her that the government might come after the editors with subpoenas for the papers, and they might face prison for refusing to cough them up, she ordered that the documents be delivered to her house, so she and she alone would be the one to defy the subpoena. Let them put an old grandmother in jail, she said.

A half decade later, in the midst of the Watergate mess, this happened: Awakened from a drunken sleep by a phone call by Carl Bernstein, John Mitchell, the former attorney general of the United States, listened to Bernstein read the lede of yet another devastating story that would appear in the next day’s Post. “JEEESUS!” Mitchell screamed. “Katie Graham is gonna get her tit caught in a big fat wringer if that’s published.” The story was published, of course, and for years afterward, Mrs. Graham wore a specially-made necklace with two charms on it: A tit and a wringer.

My God, Katharine Graham had one hell of a pair of ovaries.

On July 17, 2001, when Mrs. Graham died after a fall on the street, her employees walked the halls of the Washington Post building, tearful.

Jeff Bezos has earned billions in his life, but he will never earn that.

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Today, The staff at The Post is shocked and angry and demoralized. You know why. This nation is facing a decision so critical that its survival as a democracy may well be at stake. Obviously, people are confused: Otherwise, the polls would not be in a dead heat. Guidance from a trusted source could help.

The purpose of an editorial department of a newspaper is to write opinion pieces — sometimes signed op-eds, and sometimes editorials, which carry no byline but represent the imprimatur of the newspaper itself. You may feel these are silly or inappropriate or a vestigial remnant of an earlier, simpler time in journalism. But the fact is that a large staff of hard-working, knowledgeable people are employed to do this, and they treat their job seriously. Editorials have, indeed, moved public opinion. Fearless editorials — such as those during the civil rights movement, written in defiance of literal threats of death — have helped change history. It takes real courage to speak the truth to power.

Yesterday, The Washington Post, at the direction of its owner Jeff Bezos, showed jaw-dropping institutional cowardice. It declined to support a candidate in the upcoming election which is — let’s be blunt — between good and evil. Bezos almost certainly ordered it because he was intimidated by the threats posed to his financial empire through vengeance from Donald Trump, a man who aims to dismantle the will of the people. Bezos did not want to incur Trump’s wrath.

In his statement, publisher William Lewis, a Rupert Murdoch protege, lied nakedly about what had happened, and why. He said the newspaper made its choice in order to “return to their roots”, to reset itself to a prior, better, more genteel time when The Post declined to endorse presidential candidates.

If you think that’s even remotely true, you are the idiot he takes you for.

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There is such a thing as moral authority. It may be intangible, but it is there, and it can be powerful. It is essential to newspaper opinion writing. The Washington Post owner flushed it down the toilet yesterday. What is left is invertebrate.

This action has damaged everyone, not the least of whom are the dedicated, talented employees of The Post, whose careers are likely now diminished because, well, do they work for a great newspaper anymore? They are like homeowners whose neighborhood suddenly gets a pig slaughterhouse. All the home values are diminished.

In the one or two days before the election, expect to read a banal, obligatory piece in the Post — most newspapers do it — urging everyone to vote, for the sake of civic responsibility. Why should you believe it from The Post, now? The hypocrisy is thick and gooey. This is a newspaper that looked at the stark, existential choice facing the country, with the people in fear, and decided to sit this one out. They’re not voting. Why should you?

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Anyway, this is the Weekend Gene Pool, in which I ask you to supply me Observations and Anecdotes for my use next week. Please do. You may react to today’s post, or specifically answer this question: What is a time you were terribly disappointed by someone / something you trusted and respected? Please send your stuff here:

And finally, today’s Gene Pool Gene Poll. I have decided, on this day, that it must be of maximum superficiality and no political content:

Okay, that’s it. See you on Tuesday. I am depressed.