Reporting News and opinions
There is a peculiar habit that appears with remarkable frequency in American and British political commentary. Whenever an issue is said to concern black communities, a familiar chorus emerges from television studios, newspaper columns and social media platforms.
Rudy Giuliani has once again emerged from whatever landscaping parking lot or podcast dungeon he currently frequents to deliver a sermon on moral purity. In a television rant that felt like an archaeological dig through early-2000s cable news grievances, the former mayor declared that New York City’s mayor should skip the official September 11 memorial ceremonies. The mayor’s disqualifying offense? He happens to be Muslim.
It has no postcode. It does not appear on Google Maps. There are no street signs pointing towards it. Yet, whenever one of its inhabitants is caught saying something outrageous or doing something politically or legally questionable, suddenly we are told that the offending words or conduct belonged there.
There is an eternal, almost Newtonian law of modern politics: wherever a politician loudly proclaims they are "standing up for the forgotten working man," you will inevitably find a discreet corner table in a private Mayfair club where someone is eagerly trying to launder foreign money.
A rumour becomes a scandal. A disagreement becomes a conspiracy. An inconvenient question becomes evidence of a plot. An opponent is not merely wrong, but corrupt, compromised, bought, controlled or secretly working for somebody else.
