Bill Whitaker: Debate fallout bringing out the worst

Like it or not, the mainstream punditry of our times often sorts out for the historians of tomorrow what resonates politically and societally today. And among the many armchair ponderings about the pivotal Sept. 10 Trump-Harris presidential debate, I was most struck by congressional reporter Jamie Dupree's take: "Only two things will be talked about in detail on AM drive radio or TV about this debate: 1) Trump: Immigrants are eating cats and dogs. 2) Taylor Swift endorses Kamala Harris."

In a way, this confirms what a wise friend advised a day before the debate. I had acknowledged little interest in the much-touted matchup because serious policy questions would likely go unanswered and exaggerated allegations and outright falsehoods would go uncorrected by debate moderators. Today's presidential debates, my friend countered, may no longer mirror the Lincoln-Douglas debates of 1858, but they do demonstrate a candidate's ability to think fast on his or her feet. And there's merit in this.

To extend this thought, presidential debates are now like gladiatorial matches with candidates dueling in words, claims, ideas, explanations and, yes, zingers that capture the imagination or tickle the funny bone. Take, for example, President Reagan's witty comeback to challenger Walter Mondale when the issue of Reagan's age (73) surfaced at the Oct. 21, 1984, debate: "I will not make age an issue of this campaign. I am not going to exploit, for political purposes, my opponent's youth and inexperience."

I'm stunned at the multitude of Trump disciples who claim their idol was mistreated because ABC News debate moderators dared to correct (and in real time!) Trump whenever he lied. His followers actually expect journalists to stay mum as the falsehoods and exaggerations pile up, misleading more citizenry than is already the case. No doubt, this expectation distinguishes and condemns our post-truth age. These same conspiracy addicts and willing dupes probably curse referees and umpires at ballgames.

The real problem: Their idol struck out at bat on the truth far more than his Democratic opponent did.

Facts once mattered

Many Trumpers online castigated ABC News' David Muir for correcting Trump when the Republican candidate spouted wildly unfounded and malicious rumors about Haitian immigrants in Springfield, Ohio. "They're eating the dogs, the people that came in, they're eating the cats," Trump bellowed in answering a question on immigration. "They're eating the pets of the people that live there, and this is what's happening in our country, and it's a shame." (Trump's rant has already been set to music!)

When Muir explained on air that ABC had contacted Springfield and was informed by its city manager that such claims were without merit, Trump suggested one might expect a city manager to say that. Yet other credible sources dismiss these claims. "There have been no credible reports or specific claims of pets being harmed, injured or abused by individuals within the immigrant community," Springfield police said. Even Ohio Republican Gov. Mike DeWine dismissed the immigrants-eating-pets claims.

By most accounts, the Haitians have settled legally in Springfield and assimilated nicely. They took jobs others would not. To quote the CEO of McGregor Metal, an automotive parts maker, about the Haitian workers at his plant in a Sept. 9 PBS NewsHour report: "I wish I had 30 more. Our Haitians come to work every day. They don't have a drug problem. They'll stay at their machine. That's a stark difference from what we're used to."

Yet we live in a mean-spirited, deluded, pseudo-Christian society that increasingly forges its political beliefs based on claims unsupported by facts. Lawsuits about the supposedly stolen presidential election of 2020 prove this. Many court hearings regarding President Trump's claims of widespread election fraud were evidentiary hearings — and those collapsed because lawyers such as Rudy Giuliani based their suits on hearsay and speculation. Giuliani hoped to find evidence in support of his claims but never did.

That's a pretty sloppy way to practice law. As Giuliani explained of his approach to filing election lawsuits without evidence, "[a]ll those questions have to be answered, which you can't answer at this stage of the litigation, so you put out all the allegations you have, the ones that help you, the ones that don't, and then you work your way through it in the litigation." Which is why many Trumpers foolishly still hold the 2020 presidential election was stolen.

As it so happens, I spent much of my youth in Ohio and, as best man at a wedding, spent a weekend in Springfield, an engaging, picturesque college town 45 miles west of Columbus. I also spent a couple of years working on the cops beat in Abilene, Texas, where I began my newspaper career. One lesson I learned informed the rest of my career: Complaints filed with the police department — say, complaints about immigrants eating people's dogs and cats — don't always prove true once investigated.

If you remember this lesson, you'll save yourself a lot of grief in the newspaper profession. If you don't, you won't have much credibility in any profession. That's not to say police don't falter in investigations. But when your evidence is a social-media post claiming a neighbor's daughter's friend lost her cat and found it hanging from a tree branch at a Haitian immigrant neighbor's home being carved up for dinner, your journalist's skepticism should go on full alert.

Misfits, malcontents

First thing I did when Trump and running mate JD Vance lent their credibility to claims about Haitians eating neighbors' dogs and cats in Springfield was call up online the Springfield News-Sun to see what reporters who know the community and know local authorities were reporting. Their stories indicate these claims are groundless. In fact, the mayor and local clergy have rallied to the immigrants' defense. These reporters base their reputations and risk their jobs on what they report to the general public.

Should Trump and Vance be similarly held to account for spreading such alarmist claims without proof? Why not?

Other debate moments will linger long in memory, including Trump's refusal to say he hoped Ukraine prevailed in its defensive war against Russian invasion and his refusal to shoulder any blame for the Jan. 6 violence, including doing next to nothing as supporters brutalized police and stormed the U.S. Capitol to overthrow the 2020 election. But when he began ranting about legal Haitian immigrants eating people's pets, I felt a moment of sorrow — not so much for Trump but for our nation.

Since the debate, Trump has recklessly expanded on this racist nonsense, contributing to bomb threats leveled at Springfield schools, hospitals and government buildings, a threatened shooting at Wittenberg University and a march on the town by the Proud Boys, a neo-fascist militia group allied with Trump. Does it exaggerate too much to say this town has been terrorized by misfits and malcontents of Trump's Make America Great Again mindset? Has he again heightened the risk of violence for everyone?

The questions are relevant given a reported second assassination attempt on Trump, which Vance and MAGA followers blame on critics labeling Trump a "fascist." Yet Vance and his ilk yawn and look the other way as Trump repeatedly labels his Democratic presidential opponent "a radical-left, Marxist, communist fascist," which I'm not sure is even theoretically possible. So who's inciting violence? With more than 30 bomb threats to his town, the Republican mayor of Springfield is begging Trump to stay away.

Celebrity vs child

So far as singer-songwriter Taylor Swift's post-debate endorsement goes, I admit knowing so little about her that my wife recently suggested a Taylor Swift documentary on what we call our weekly "Edification Night." In watching "Miss Americana" (2020), I found Swift, then 30, somewhat naïve in her political thinking, but she at least offered a sunny, wholesome, forward-minded view of America in contrast to the dark and deceitful "immigrants-are-eating-our-dogs-and-cats" prism of Trump and Vance.

She also took a swipe at our post-truth age: "Recently I was made aware that AI of 'me' falsely endorsing Donald Trump's presidential run was posted to his site. It really conjured up my fears around AI, and the dangers of spreading misinformation.

"It brought me to the conclusion that I need to be very transparent about my actual plans for this election as a voter. The simplest way to combat misinformation is with the truth. I will be casting my vote for Kamala Harris and Tim Walz in the 2024 Presidential Election."

In short, Trump's stupidly posting false claims of Swift favoring his campaign prompted this immensely influential American cultural phenomenon to formally endorse his opponent. This 78-year-old man's childish response, posted Sunday: "I HATE TAYLOR SWIFT!" And in a telling instance of his failure to learn the identities of his own supporting cast, Trump at his recent Las Vegas rally introduced reggaeton singer Nicky Jam as a supporter: "Latin music superstar Nicky Jam. Do you know Nicky? She's hot!"

Except she's a he.

I was impressed with Swift's endorsement. As a former Republican, I probably should have been more impressed with the rush of Harris endorsements by more than 200 former Reagan, Bush, Cheney and Romney staffers, but Swift is articulate, thoughtful and grounded. In response, JD Vance on Fox News questioned whether voters "are going to be influenced by a billionaire celebrity who I think is fundamentally disconnected from the interests and the problems of most Americans."

I'm willing to concede the point, but why limit it to just one "billionaire celebrity" out there?

Bill Whitaker spent 45 years as a reporter, editor and columnist in Texas journalism, including a dozen years as Waco Tribune-Herald opinion editor. He is a member of the Tribune-Herald Board of Contributors.