A recent Talbot County Council meeting when a council member questioned the need for a diversity policy, chided a colleague for being too emotional about change and the renewed possibility of removing the Talbot Boys Monument on the courthouse green and then demanded that telephonic input and criticism from the head of the local NAACP chapter be muted, angrily threatening to  walk out—the political fireworks were a shocking display of blindness to the actions necessarily being undertaken nationwide in the wake of the brutal killing of George Floyd by a Minneapolis police officer.

In responding to what she considered a precipitous reaction to the furor over Floyd’s well-publicized death after a white policeman kneeled for nearly nine minutes on the black man’s neck, Councilwoman Laura Price voiced a sentiment shared by many. A serious public official, Price echoed a common refrain during a moment in history:

Don’t rush to tear down Confederate monuments and rename Army posts in the South in the heat of the moment.

Take a collective breath and avoid impulsive actions that may later be regretted.

Don’t be swayed by zealous activists trying to take advantage of an admittedly horrendous action to instigate policy changes and removal of hateful symbols of white supremacy.

I would suggest to Councilwoman Price that emotion is exactly what is now imperative to redress wrongs toward, and mistreatment of our fellow African-American citizens fostered since our nation’s founding.

Normally an incrementalist who prefers reasoned discussion before taking action, I believe that African-Americans have been undeniably patient about change in a country supposedly founded on liberty and freedom for all. Despite desirable legal shifts in education, voting and housing, blacks still suffer from lack of economic opportunity.

More than 50 years ago, during the divisive Vietnam War, I wondered about the proportionally large number of combat deaths among black soldiers. It was a war fought mostly by members of the lower classes. And then black soldiers who fought for their country returned to a homeland still rife with bias and unequal treatment.

The time is now to act. The time is now to make changes, even symbolic ones. The time is now to explore and then engineer structural adjustments that make life fairer for black U.S. citizens.

The past weekend was a reawakening for me. I listened on the courthouse green to the disturbing words of Talbot County native Frederick Douglass excerpted from a speech he delivered July 5, 1852 to a group of abolitionists in Rochester, New York.

I only wish I had read and absorbed Douglass’ spellbinding remarks when I was younger. My understanding of American inequality would have been deeper. My sense of citizenry would have been more enlightened.

For those who think that we as a country should move more slowly and gingerly in confronting blatant, as well as nuanced discrimination, I recommend this passage in Douglass’ speech:

“At a time like this, scorching irony, not convincing argument, is needed. O! had I the ability and could I reach the nation’s ear, I would, to-day, pour out a fiery stream of biting ridicule, blasting reproach, withering sarcasm, and stern rebuke.

“For it is not light that is needed, but fire; it is not the gentle shower, but thunder. We need the storm, the whirlwind, and the earthquake. The feeling of the nation must be quickened; the conscience of the nation must be roused; the propriety of the nation must be startled; the hypocrisy of the nation must be exposed; and its crimes against God and man must be proclaimed and denounced.”

Douglass was addressing the evil of slavery. A renowned orator, he could not celebrate the 76th anniversary of our young country and ignore the debasing treatment of people unable to enjoy the manifold opportunities available to whites.

Nor can we.

We must search our souls for evidence of prejudice. We must look at lives of privilege and ask why we were so lucky. We were born with immediate familial benefits. We assumed we were entitled to them.

I beseech Councilwoman Price and others who share her “go slowly” approach to seize the moment to make changes that benefit our friends and neighbors who differ from us only in the color of their skin. African-Americans have waited long enough.

Slavery legally ended with the Emancipation Proclamation. Attitudes did not. Nuanced, subtle discrimination is alive and well. We do not need a modern-day Frederick Douglass, should he or she exist, to pierce our indifference.

We need a whirlwind.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

Is it possible? If not, what should the standard be?

Journalism 101 instructs students to follow the facts, subjugate your bias and preconceived notions and save opinions for the editorial page. That’s what I was taught more than 50 years ago.

I always wondered, particularly as the editor of the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer, if I were really being objective when selecting lead stories for the front page and writing headlines. I wondered if I were fooling myself. When I developed and cultivated sources, did I select people with whom I felt socially and intellectually comfortable?

Probably.

My most memorable story was coverage and commentary about political shenanigans on Kent Island by an experienced politician and local merchant who offered booze to folks waiting in line to vote. A long, quaint tradition, so I understood.

Raised in a political household by a mother who hallowed honesty in an uncompromising way, I despised political chicanery, especially when it affected voting.

Tainted voting was a sacrilege to me. Some may find this laughable in light of the massive amount of money raised and spent these days by candidates and PACs to affect the outcome through positive and negative advertising and sophisticated attempts to promote as well as suppress the vote.

Looking back, I am certain I did the right thing. The county official was furious with me. So what, if he offered booze to folks seeking distraction while waiting in line to vote? No big deal, just business as usual. He lost the election, if I recall correctly. 

Clearly, I was swayed by my upbringing, my aversion to blatantly illegal election behavior. I couldn’t look the other way and dismiss the behavior as nothing consequential. It bothered my belief system.

My point is obvious. We can’t be objective, even if we’re right about rule-breaking. But suppose we were wrong and simply being self-righteous, imposing our high-minded views on others? 

Journalists need to be careful about including their personal viewpoints in news stories. Maybe it’s unavoidable.

To take a more current, fraught tack, I believe that media coverage of African-American issues and challenges has been skewed by white reporters and editors. I now question if many years of coverage by well-intended, highly motivated white journalists has really been objective.

Raised in white enclaves, often in privileged circumstances, white journalists generally lack any reference points for adequate coverage of black neighborhoods, black schools, black churches, black poverty, black values and black grievances. They don’t understand another culture, one that might feel bitter about longtime racism, subtle and overt.

I seem to be suggesting that only black reporters report on black topics. I am not. What I’m suggesting is that newsrooms, including reporters, editors and editorial boards, must contain a greater number of African-American faces and voices to produce credible news coverage.

Decisions about what to cover and how and placement of these stories in the daily news lineup should be more diverse and more sensitive. In fact, they have to be.

If objectivity is impossible due to the human condition, even with an understandable obsession with facts, then another standard must govern the media. Some recommend that truth be the guide, that euphemisms and political correctness be consigned to the trash bin.

In some instances, objectivity–telling two sides of a controversy–might be considered unproductive. If the subjects are racism, police brutality, sexual assault and harassment, gender discrimination, economic inequality, ineffective education and other hot buttons, then the media should simply call it out without context.

I could not abide this approach. Yes, the editorial pages should be opinionated with a large dosage of reason. But, the media’s effort to offer differing points of view cannot cease. 

Fairness and accuracy are acceptable standards.

Some may view objectivity dated and no longer applicable. I call upon readers to understand that this desirable standard is often unfeasible.  However, readers have a right to expect balance, if possible, and inclusion of all voices and backgrounds. 

And the unvarnished truth if attainable. Fairness, though, must rank first.

What I’m proposing is balanced coverage, including tough-minded, principled analysis identified as such—while avoiding inflammatory and bigoted language.

Fairness is essential in my view of the world; if that means a two-sided approach practiced well and sometimes boringly by PBS, so be it. It’s informative and thorough. It requires listeners seeking clarity.

A column about journalistic objectivity begs a degree of hubris. Injection of my own world view, developed through experience and familial values, colors my slant. 

My default is balance, seasoned by fairness. 

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

Were I the Confederate soldier portrayed in life size atop a pedestal in front of Talbot County Courthouse, looking out on the world as it today, I just might say: “Tear me down. Move me somewhere else. I serve no value here. I am viewed as a traitor to my country. By what I represent, I am a divider. Birds might like me. People with consciences and sense of equity do not.”

The Talbot Boys Monument, which contains the names of 84 Confederate veterans of the Civil War, was conceived and funded by people who intended to glorify troops who fought to preserve slavery and gloss over the nefarious institution that defined the South and stained America. 

It is not really history. Instead, it is “spin,’ designed to terrorize African-Americans who had the temerity to believe our nation actually stood for freedom and equality after the Civil War. They were right about our values in 1916, when the statue was dedicated. They are right now. 

Those who have blocked blacks from achieving equal status and well-deserved respect must face facts:

Understandably rocked by the brutal and unnecessary killing of George Floyd by Minneapolis Police on May 25, 2020, black and white citizens are now saying that enough is enough. Senseless, bigoted violence must stop. Police officers who fail to act in a restrained manner must be held accountable.

Removal of the Talbot Boys Monument from public space and the implied endorsement of the “Lost Cause” by Talbot County government and citizens can wait no longer. Vision of an incremental approach, such as display of an interpretive plaque explaining the destructive and subversive effect of secession, no longer would satisfy this writer.

The Confederate cause was propelled by belief in the sanctity of slavery. “Negroes” were second-class citizens whose rightful place in society was to serve white masters and relinquish their humanity.

The tide has turned.

A monument, like others in the South, evokes hostility and hatred on a public square. It serves no useful purpose. White supremacists were wrong in 1914 when construction of the Talbot Boys statue began; their actions belied a generosity of spirit and belief in equality for all. This shameful charade must come to a humane stop.

A statement released last week by the National Trust for Historic Preservation said, “We believe it is past time for us, as a nation, to acknowledge that these symbols (Confederate monuments) do not reflect, and are in fact abhorrent to our values and to our foundational obligation to continue building a more perfect union that embodies equality and justice for all.”

Our severely divided and dysfunctional nation cries out for unity. Confederate monuments divide. They stand out as repudiation of decency and oneness. Masters and slaves not only are archaic; they are anathema to the values that should undergird our democracy. 

Skin color is not a penal sentence to invisibility and mistreatment.

It can’t be. Otherwise, we all are destined to be judged and treated based not on our character and personal quality, but on our defining physical and ethnic differences.

Perhaps no one in recent history has been more eloquent and passionate about the overriding need to remove Confederate statues than former New Orleans Mayor Mitch Landrieu, who spoke about their removal in May 2017. He said:

“We have not erased history; we are becoming part of the city’s history by righting the wrong image these monuments represent and crafting a better, more complete future for all our children and for future generations.

“And unlike when these Confederate monuments were first erected as symbols of white supremacy, we now have a chance to create not only new symbols, but to do it together, as one people. In our blessed land we all come to the table of democracy as equals. We have to reaffirm our commitment to the future where each citizen is guaranteed the uniquely American gifts of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”

These words are powerful ones, beseeching us to be fair and free of irrational hatred and bigotry.

Imagining that I am the Confederate soldier trying to understand our nation as one meant to be unified, not riven by discord and discrimination, I would consider that I served bravely but ill-advisedly. I fought to continue subjugating people based solely on their skin color. I didn’t understand that one nation under God elicits a belief in goodness and grace.

The Talbot Boys Monument must be taken now. It should not involve years of dialogue. 

We’ve had those discussions. It should be moved, not destroyed. 

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

Fifty-two years ago, as a newly-minted college graduate, I realized I was living in a different America. It felt uncomfortable.

In 1968, the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy were assassinated, separated by very few months. Riots spread throughout the United States in major cities in response to the hateful killing of King, a civil rights icon. Hopes for a better future vaporized after the murder of Kennedy as he was gathering momentum in his run for the Democratic presidential nomination.

Prospects for victory in Vietnam diminished after the Tet Offensive started in January 1968. Public support of this war and trust in our political leaders substantially weakened as Americans wondered if this Southeast Asian conflict was worth the cost in lives. Strife on college campuses became more and more strident and aggressive. 

A major fatality of the ill-conceived Vietnam War was an alarming fraying of public faith in the policies and veracity of political, military and academic leaders. The culture that I had grown up to respect and admire was falling apart before my eyes.

I was 23, striving to become adult in my behavior and attitudes. The foundation of our country, one that drew my immigrant grandparents to its shores and potential, was unstable and splintering.

As hard as I tried to drum out the discordant noises filling the public discourse in 1968, I could not ignore the discontent and disillusion. 

I hark back to the classic song, “What’s It About Alfie,” performed so eloquently in 1966 by Dionne Warwick. The lyrics touched my generation: “What’s it about, When you sort it out Alfie, Are we meant to take more than give, Or are we meant to be kind?”

The Democratic National Convention in Chicago symbolized the chaos roiling our nation. Young counterculture and anti-war protesters descended upon Chicago and wreaked havoc that stretched the ability of law enforcement agencies to control. Injuries were suffered by 500-plus protestors, 100-plus other civilians and 152 police officers.

And the American watched the mess and conflict on national TV. The optics could not have been worse for the adults supposedly in charge. 

Fast forward to 2020, a year infected by the novel coronavirus and continued killing of blacks by police throughout the country. Add to the dark cloud of uncertainty and fear driven by a virus that has claimed nearly 115,000 lives in our nation and revealed the specter of an incompetent president whose empathy is skin-deep.

The killing of George Floyd, a black man, by a Minneapolis police officer on May 25, 2020, has sparked a flood of protests throughout the U.S. Some have turned ugly with property destruction in its wake. In a few cases, including in Washington, DC and Buffalo, NY, peaceful protesters were injured for unclear reasons.

The tone and content of conversations among white people have changed, prompting a painful look at conscious and unconscious bias. Confederate monuments are facing removal, if not destruction. Names of Army posts, particularly in the south, may be changed, viewed as commemorating the exploits of Confederate generals. 

The upheaval seems effective. Political leaders, except the president, and military officers are eager to remove the stain of racism.

Both the pandemic and the reaction to Floyd’s killing have revealed a schism between the haves and the have-nots. Economic and medical inequality have surfaced like a cloud-burst. COVID-19 has had a disproportionate impact on African-American families due in part to economic inequality: blacks working in hospitals, nursing homes and grocery stores have faced greater exposure to the disabling virus than whites able to work well-paid jobs from home.

Though 2020 is five-and-a half months from coming to a merciful end. I believe that our current social and political turmoil is equally as disruptive to our norms of fairness and decency, as was the case in 1968. While the assassination of Dr. King struck like an earthquake, with the murder of Sen. Kennedy feeling like a severe aftershock, I think that the horrific death of George Floyd may have the same effect on our collective soul-searching. 

We cannot ignore our nation’s diminishing reservoir of decency and compassion. 

We cannot escape the continuing blemish of racism.

We cannot retreat into our tribal connections and forget those not so fortunate to enjoy a network of professional and personal support.

We cannot be blind to inequity.

We cannot chase away our better angels.

We cannot underestimate the power of “us,” instead of “me.”

The years 1968 and 2020 seem awfully similar; 52 years brought changes, but not enough.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

As you walk the beach at Vierville-sur-Mer, you marvel at the serene beauty, topped by imposing bluffs.

You noticed that this peaceful Normandy, France beach has a monument amid the tranquility, dedicated to National Guard soldiers who landed there on D-Day, June 6, 1944. Many met death or maiming on that beach, which is better known as the code-named Omaha Beach.

You walk along the beach, and your imagination takes hold. How did any soldier escape that beach 76 years ago unhurt? How was that possible?

In the adjacent town of Colleville-sur-Mer, you encounter the beautifully manicured Normandy American Cemetery, populated by roughly 9,300 white marble crosses and Stars of David. At first you’re impressed by the extreme care and attention bestowed on the hallowed ground. Then, you face reality. 

50th Anniversary of D-Day Ceremony at Normandy American Cemetery

Thousands of young men, many from Maryland and Virginia, never rejoined their families and friends at home. They had participated in the greatest amphibious assault in military history.

In 1994, the 50th anniversary of D-Day, I accompanied veterans of the famed 29th Infantry Division (Blue and Gray). They were men in their 70s. Some had walkers. They all had memories of their dead buddies.

Many cried. It was their last farewell in most cases to men who fought together during the treacherous Normandy Campaign.  The veterans had witnessed horrific human destruction. Omaha Beach was a killing field that they would never forget.

A surprise assault in Normandy, instead of the expected Calais, benefitted the Allied forces. Still, German firepower took its toll.

I’m unsure whether the citizen soldiers understood the enormity of their mission on D-Day. They struck a blow, like no other, for freedom and democracy. 

They fought for their country; they fought for their comrades-in-arms. They overcame fear. They were brave, relentless souls.

D-Day veteran Ringgold Elburn of Kingstown, near Chestertown

They were young men. That’s always the case. Many had children whom they had never met.

On a visit to Normandy in 1988, I walked around a small cemetery in Normandy containing the graves of German soldiers. They too were young, some 18 or 19. Did they embrace the Nazi vision of a great white, Aryan race, or did they serve because they had no choice?

Memories of past wars, including great victories and ignominious defeats, may fade, overcome by daily concerns and everyday calamities. Some memories, however, deserve to be emblazoned on our collective memory.

Waves of soldiers assaulted the French resort beach on an overcast morning, delivered by U.S. Navy landing boats. Some Navy boat commanders moved in as far as they could; many did not because of the overwhelming German firepower.

The beach became littered with bodies and frightened soldiers. Chaos reigned as it often does at the beginning of combat despite exhaustively designed plans. Reality often overcomes hope.

I’ve written before about Harold Baumgartner, an enlisted man badly wounded and evacuated to England. He later became a family practice doctor in Jacksonville, FL. He told me that his wartime experience prompted him to provide health care paid sometimes by patients with vegetables and fruit.

Were I to walk Omaha Beach again, I would continue to be unable to forget the personal destruction that imposed itself 76 years ago on a waterfront slice of sand and rocks. I will remember forever the battle-hardened veterans who walked tearfully through the rows of a lovely, well-kept and somber cemetery on the French coast. Their generation typically did not show emotion.

D-Day, June 6,1944, brought the beginning of the end for the Third German Reich at an incalculable human cost.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

The past Wednesday morning was a moment of liberation for me. I got a haircut after two months of mounting (kind of) hair.

I was pleased. My hair stylist was pleased. I think I lost some weight; my wife would disagree. Life had opened up a little bit, hopefully safely.

Of course, the new normal is fully operational. I couldn’t enter the hair salon until summoned at the front door by a co-owner. During the cutting (mowing?), I wore a mask, as did my stylist. When things got tricky around my ears, I removed the strap and pushed my mask against my face.

As I understand, I was one of many happy clients. The stylists certainly seemed content. Why wouldn’t they be? Their business had opened after numerous weeks of closure prompted by coronavirus and its severe impact on personal convenience and economic health.

I couldn’t help smiling during the day. A minor burden had been removed. Symbolically, the old normal–though under new constraints–had reappeared. More is yet to come in what I hope is a measured, healthy process.

I spoke Wednesday about my shorn head with two friends, one in Easton and one in Needham, Mass. They both seemed surprised. One said he was not ready to do the same. The other said he couldn’t due to restrictions in his state; he also said that despite his “generous” ears, his hair had overgrown them.

Despite this lukewarm reaction, I was satisfied with my decision. It was calculated, not impulsive. The business owners and I were following Gov. Larry Hogan’s guidance. I will not judge those who choose to avoid close, albeit masked, situations.

We all must follow our own consciences.

It’s funny how the little things matter in our new, strange and upside-down world. A haircut was always a necessity, but not a major one (women might disagree). This week, it became a small mountain to climb, and so I did.

The line between a relief of economic stress and anti-coronavirus actions is a difficult one to navigate at a time when wants conflict with needs, underscored by a continuous battle to minimize a potentially fatal infection. Lockdown fatigue is also a factor in our behaviors.

Going back to my original intent to discuss my haircut in a slightly humorous way, I realized as I was writing this article that I best pay attention to a point of view that might question the wisdom of getting a haircut at this currently fraught time.

Still, I jumped (wish I could) at the chance to address my unkempt appearance. Talking (can’t resist) was more difficult. Looking in the mirror and seeing a masked man was a bit disconcerting.

I’m returning in four weeks. It seems right to me.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.