Page is an American journalist, syndicated columnist, and senior member of the Chicago Tribune editorial board.
When a friend reminded me that it's almost time for the Democratic National Convention, I wanted to say, "That's OK, I'm good with the last one."
But, I didn't. I'm too much of a political junkie to ignore this level of political history while it's being made.
As a matter of historical importance, it's not the party that matters to me as much as the role these events play in making political history. But I also am a Chicagoan who cares about the city and the image it presents to the world.
As such, I felt great apprehension before the last Democratic convention in Chicago in 1996, especially in light of the fiasco that erupted during the party's convention in 1968.
Yes, the 1968 convention, in case you weren't around, was the one widely and unpleasantly remembered for violent clashes between police and protesters, a chaotic scene that set the party up for what became nominee Hubert Humphrey's loss in the fall to Republican Richard Nixon.
Fortunately, the 1996 convention came off well enough to be remembered less for the reasonably peaceful protests outside than for the sight of first lady Hillary Clinton, later the U.S. secretary of state, clapping along with other delegates doing the Macarena during an intermission.
Ah, talk about the politics of joy.
But I was sensing flashbacks to chaotic 1968 last week when about 40 people were arrested for blocking roads leading into O'Hare International Airport, one of the world's busiest, for more than an hour.
Illinois Gov. J.B. Pritzker later reassured the public that the city and state are ready to stop any disruption to the big event.
"Look, we believe in free speech, and we're going to allow people to protest," he told Dana Bash on "CNN Sunday Morning." "But the reality is we're going to make sure people have ingress and egress and that they're safe in our state."
Well, good luck, governor, and to Chicago Mayor Brandon Johnson too. Here's hoping our political leaders have learned some important lessons from our past convention experiences, including the missteps.
A special commission headed by Dan Walker, general counsel for Montgomery Ward who later would become Illinois governor, famously blamed the 1968 chaos in the streets on a "police riot." The report confirmed the widespread public impression that the Chicago police, in a classic Daley understatement, "overreacted." But it also pointed out the provocations they suffered, as well as examples of police showing proper restraint.
The success of the 1996 convention under Mayor Richard M. Daley, son of Richard J., showed how much the son and the city had learned from the mistakes of 1968. It's hard to remember now, because 1996 went so well, but there was palpable nervousness beforehand.
So it is in 2024. The reasons are different this time. In 1996, what caused the angst was the pressure of exorcising the demons of 1968. In 2024, what is prompting the worry is a new generation of activists and protesters using a level of aggression we haven't really seen since the late '60s. Once again, Chicago's 1968 demons have returned to fray our nerves. It's only the issues fueling the anger that have changed.
Brandon Johnson is about as far from Richard J. Daley in terms of ideology as a mayor can get. But he is likely to be confronted with similar quandaries over how much force to allow his police force to employ. A nervous city for now can only wait for August. It won't provide any comfort to him that Daley's reputation never recovered from the brutal scenes in Grant Park.
Chicago has been hosting party conventions since the Republican National Convention that nominated Abraham Lincoln in 1860. The vast majority of those gatherings have reflected well on the city and pumped money into the local economy.
It's your turn now, Mayor Johnson. It's not that the whole world is watching, as the young protesters chanted in 1968. But a whole country will be.
(C)2024 Clarence Page. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.
Eric Trump, the newly appointed ALT5 board director of World Liberty Financial, walks outside of the NASDAQ in Times Square as they mark the $1.5- billion partnership between World Liberty Financial and ALT5 Sigma with the ringing of the NASDAQ opening bell, on Aug. 13, 2025, in New York City.
Why does the Trump family always get a pass?
Deputy Attorney General Todd Blanche joined ABC’s “This Week” on Sunday to defend or explain a lot of controversies for the Trump administration: the Epstein files release, the events in Minneapolis, etc. He was also asked about possible conflicts of interest between President Trump’s family business and his job. Specifically, Blanche was asked about a very sketchy deal Trump’s son Eric signed with the UAE’s national security adviser, Sheikh Tahnoon.
Shortly before Trump was inaugurated in early 2025, Tahnoon invested $500 million in the Trump-owned World Liberty, a then newly launched cryptocurrency outfit. A few months later, UAE was granted permission to purchase sensitive American AI chips. According to the Wall Street Journal, which broke the story, “the deal marks something unprecedented in American politics: a foreign government official taking a major ownership stake in an incoming U.S. president’s company.”
“How do you respond to those who say this is a serious conflict of interest?” ABC host George Stephanopoulos asked.
“I love it when these papers talk about something being unprecedented or never happening before,” Blanche replied, “as if the Biden family and the Biden administration didn’t do exactly the same thing, and they were just in office.”
Blanche went on to boast about how the president is utterly transparent regarding his questionable business practices: “I don’t have a comment on it beyond Trump has been completely transparent when his family travels for business reasons. They don’t do so in secret. We don’t learn about it when we find a laptop a few years later. We learn about it when it’s happening.”
Sadly, Stephanopoulos didn’t offer the obvious response, which may have gone something like this: “OK, but the president and countless leading Republicans insisted that President Biden was the head of what they dubbed ‘the Biden Crime family’ and insisted his business dealings were corrupt, and indeed that his corruption merited impeachment. So how is being ‘transparent’ about similar corruption a defense?”
Now, I should be clear that I do think the Biden family’s business dealings were corrupt, whether or not laws were broken. Others disagree. I also think Trump’s business dealings appear to be worse in many ways than even what Biden was alleged to have done. But none of that is relevant. The standard set by Trump and Republicans is the relevant political standard, and by the deputy attorney general’s own account, the Trump administration is doing “exactly the same thing,” just more openly.
Since when is being more transparent about wrongdoing a defense? Try telling a cop or judge, “Yes, I robbed that bank. I’ve been completely transparent about that. So, what’s the big deal?”
This is just a small example of the broader dysfunction in the way we talk about politics.
Americans have a special hatred for hypocrisy. I think it goes back to the founding era. As Alexis de Tocqueville observed in “Democracy In America,” the old world had a different way of dealing with the moral shortcomings of leaders. Rank had its privileges. Nobles, never mind kings, were entitled to behave in ways that were forbidden to the little people.
In America, titles of nobility were banned in the Constitution and in our democratic culture. In a society built on notions of equality (the obvious exceptions of Black people, women, Native Americans notwithstanding) no one has access to special carve-outs or exemptions as to what is right and wrong. Claiming them, particularly in secret, feels like a betrayal against the whole idea of equality.
The problem in the modern era is that elites — of all ideological stripes — have violated that bargain. The result isn’t that we’ve abandoned any notion of right and wrong. Instead, by elevating hypocrisy to the greatest of sins, we end up weaponizing the principles, using them as a cudgel against the other side but not against our own.
Pick an issue: violent rhetoric by politicians, sexual misconduct, corruption and so on. With every revelation, almost immediately the debate becomes a riot of whataboutism. Team A says that Team B has no right to criticize because they did the same thing. Team B points out that Team A has switched positions. Everyone has a point. And everyone is missing the point.
Sure, hypocrisy is a moral failing, and partisan inconsistency is an intellectual one. But neither changes the objective facts. This is something you’re supposed to learn as a child: It doesn’t matter what everyone else is doing or saying, wrong is wrong. It’s also something lawyers like Mr. Blanche are supposed to know. Telling a judge that the hypocrisy of the prosecutor — or your client’s transparency — means your client did nothing wrong would earn you nothing but a laugh.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.