The race to race-bait

My desire to honor the peaceful transfer of power on January 20 led me to put off this topic until this week, but I was compelled to return to it. The Martin Luther King Jr. bust debacle both angers and concerns me. The false report by TIME magazine political reporter Zeke Miller on Inauguration Day that President Trump had removed the bust was not the "mistake" some have labeled it. It was willful and despicable -- but not at all surprising.

Miller took to Twitter to announce that the MLK bust, which has been in the White House Oval Office since 2009, was gone -- removed by the new President. Of course, a hungry media gobbled up the "news" and raced to report it, as well. Shortly thereafter, Miller had to eat crow, correct his report, and send out Twitter apologies. Apparently, someone had been standing in front of the bust and blocked Miller's view. White House press secretary Sean Spicer tweeted a photograph of Dr. King's image, right there where it had always been.

And people wonder why Trump won't get rid of his Twitter account.

While some have condemned Miller and declared him a liar, others have offered excuses for him, emphasizing that he apologized to Spicer. That should count for something, right? Can't we just let it go? Nothing to see here. Wrong. We see plenty. I, too, defend Miller against the accusation that he lied. He did not lie; I'll concede that. He believed what he tweeted was true -- and I believe he wanted to believe it, that it made him giddy with delight, as it made other journalists who saw the report and rushed to spread it.

Why did Miller race to send the tweet, without even taking the time to tilt his neck slightly to see around someone standing in front of it? The answer is obvious to every intellectually honest person. This was the opportunity to advance the narrative Democrats love to advance: Republican Donald Trump is a racist, and no sooner had he moved into the White House than he sought to banish the black civil rights leader's presence.

So no, it wasn't a lie, but it wasn't a mistake, either. My main beef, therefore, is not so much what Miller did, but the reason he did it, and I'm not heartened by what he said -- meaning his apology.

Lest I be misunderstood, what he did matters. It was dangerous. People are looking for reasons to riot. We saw it on Inauguration Day: Domestic terrorists were burning cars and defying police officers. We heard it the day following: Madonna attended the Women's March on Washington and commented about "blowing up the White House," a remark reportedly taken seriously enough for the Secret Service to investigate her.

The political left asserts that the fear people profess since Trump's election is understandable. The therapy dogs and safe spaces are needed, they say, to soothe rattled nerves. He will alter life as we know it, so if they happen to be melting "snowflakes," as they have been coined, it is with good reason: They have been under the heat of The Donald and his "basket of deplorables." They feel threatened, afraid, hopeless, and these responses are legitimate, so their enablers say. Some are willing to take matters into their own hands in the face of this "monster" they both fear and hate.

So this is not the time to get it wrong as a journalist, to make even an honest mistake that can throw fuel on the fire -- and it's certainly not the time to make a dishonest one to advance a political leaning. Perhaps irresponsible reporting once held few consequences. That time has passed. And the time to excuse such agenda-laden reporting has passed, as well.

Miller handled the mess he made of his exuberance at a chance to lift himself up by taking Trump down a peg by calling it "my bad" and "my screw up" and issuing "my sincerest apologies." He can be forgiven for that, but unless he recognizes the source, and not just the symptom, of his mess, accepting his apology will only make room for another that will soon follow. I'm reminded of something a pastor said: If you see a dog's teeth attached to a man's leg, it does no good to start bandaging the leg until you get the dog off. The desire to demonize is the dog, and until people are willing to deal with that within themselves, the apology is just an ill-equipped bandage.

Let's hope Miller, and everyone, learned a valuable lesson -- because the office of the presidency deserves better than to be so vilely treated, the journalism profession deserves better than to be so haphazardly handled and Dr. King's memory deserves better than to be so politically exploited.

Adrienne Ross is an author, speaker, columnist, editor, educator and Southeast Missourian editorial board member. Reach her at aross@semissourian.com.