The Guardian, a bastion of Liberal-Left political and social aesthetics has a thing for Black Americans. It’s a fetish.
Writing about Baltimore and Black Americans in Baltimore, is a ghetto pass that allows The Guardian to be down with the downtrodden, to appear, woke, and to convey what in some circles is referred to as solidarity.
The truth is, it’s racist, it’s a fetish, and it’s a demeaning, mile wide inch deep aristocratic hypocrisy that betrays every cliché of class snobbery and the migration of the Left from committed agent of social change to establishment pricks.
As we’ve discussed The Guardian never misses a chance to suck David Simon’s cock – extolling the virtues of the Sage of Baltimore 2.0 while ignoring his support for mass surveillance, his contempt for The Guardian, his Trumpian misogynistic paternalism, his neo-fascist disgust with civil liberties and disregard for the damage caused by mass surveillance and of course his close relationship with the Baltimore Police Department.(see the link below “fuck David Simon”). Add to all of that the numerous ways in which The Guardian has sucked the Kool Aid and repeats the mantra that The Wire is the greatest show in the history of television while ignoring that it ignored all of the perfectly “respectable” White people in and around Baltimore who buy and sell drugs, the banks and real estate empires that launder drug money and the connections between the city’s philanthropists, ground rent and money laundering, and you have a disgusting swamp of class arrogance, systemic racism, and the Orwellian echochamber of television and the feckless complacent media.
Which brings us to the latest in a seemingly never-ending stream of Guardian “reports” on Baltimore’s drug scene. Except, that’s the drug scene in one corner of the city because The Guardian either doesn’t know any White people or it doesn’t want to talk to any of the White people who are buying and selling drugs in the rest of the city.
See the story here:
Instead we get a Dickensian portrait of a young Black kid who, like so many other young Black kids in America is a victim of colonization and the economic gulag. Because the issue is not accuracy, per se, as the details of the kid in the story are, we’re certain, mostly accurate. Young and Black, drugs, crooked cops, psychotic drug dealers, no jobs, or jobs that pay slave wages, despair, kids having kids, and so on. As this point, the story writes itself.
And yet, right out of the gate, the article offers up this pearl of hokum – this turd of journalistic mendacity that offers faux hardboiled romanticism that allows the “journalist” and The Guardian and its readers to show their ghetto pass and proclaim they’re hip; they’re down with the what’s real and they know the street.
“On a humid summer day in 2004, Davon Mayer stepped out of his house on Bennett Place in the heart of Baltimore.”
That’s how the story starts. That’s the line. Because, without saying it the reporter is claiming to have gone Marlow in search of Kurtz and gone down river into the heart of the city where it’s real yo.
Because it’s Black. And urban. And there are drug dealers and “gang bangers.”
What follows is a story that details the awful realities of life in a corner of the city. But because it’s already betrayed its condescension and its mendacity it is revealed to be a pile of lies while still managing to be accurate.
Young Black Americans are victims. The drug trade is ruthless and corrupt. The violence is a catastrophe that if occurring in another country would be subject to threats of UN intervention. But, this is America and as the great imperial power if the government wants to turn Baltimore into a killing field no one is going to stop them.
But of course these things are always more complicated than the simple binary racism of journalistic hipsters. And make no mistake the true appeal of The Wire is to and for White liberal hipsters in the same way that they colonize a formerly working class dive bar and turn it into a lark that offers them the opportunity to gawk at the lower classes and then having “gentrified” the surrounding area, force the bar and the people who live near it to vacate or sell out or do both. The Wire, utterly lacking in any true examination of the realities of the White power structure and its connection to the drug trade in Baltimore proclaims itself to be the discovery of the dark continent of the Hood. This gives White liberals the thrill of voyeurism and alleviates their guilt and does both from the safety of their home with its electronic tether to premium cable. Thus the use of the all-too-obviously racist paternalistic and fetishizing phrase – the heart of Baltimore. Where The Guardian’s magical Negroes live.
The “Heart of Baltimore” bigotry to one side what enrages here is the repetition of the template. It’s always the West Side of the city. It’s always a Black kid. It’s always The Wire-esque depiction of crooked cops and one good White guy on a journey of discovery and…
But let’s pull the critical lens back just a little. Let’s visit Fells Point. Let’s consider that Billie Holiday grew up in Fells. Let’s consider that behind her row house there’s an old stable that still has the ports in one wall where the horses used to lean out to be fed. And that Frederick Douglass describes visiting the stable in My Bondage, My Freedom and let’s consider that if you’re going to talk about the Heart of the city it just might be there. Or down a few blocks to the old buildings that used to be whore houses and where the oldest still standing single family home in Baltimore is located. And the small family plot where the Fells are buried.
And let’s tell another story.
Let’s tell the story of the White guy who owns a bar, in Fells. And lives above the bar with his White Girlfriend and his White friend, who is an alcoholic, and a real estate appraiser, who starts every day with a large glass of whiskey and then gets in his Mini Cooper and drives off to set bogus prices for properties in exchange for kickbacks. And his friend, the guy who owns the bar, his parents own the building. They bought it for him. The apartment above the bar has been renovated. Neo-Edwardian chic. Hardwood floors. Granite countertops. You’ve seen it a thousand times. His girlfriend is nice. Works with special needs kids. She and the boyfriend have a dog. The dog’s nice too.
And the boyfriend…he’ s a cokehead. He buys thousands of dollars’ worth a month. He gives some away to people he knows. Some he sells. Everyone knows about it. Including the informants who come to bar on behalf of the cops. And the other dealers.
For example there’s the middle aged White guy who lives right up the street. He’s retired. Plays golf on the weekends. His wife’s retired too. They own three houses and a flat they rent out to doctors from John Hopkins.
And the retired guy – he deals weed. Lots and lots of weed. And he has a friend who deals pills. A lot of their customers play golf. They meet on the range and make deals.
And across the street from the retired guy – there’s another White guy. He deals weed as well. Huge industrial sized bags of weed. And canisters of nitrous.
And a few doors down from him there’s another White guy. He’s a bookie. His daughter knows everyone in the area. She sits on the stoop late at night smoking weed and she’ll tell you who’s who. Who’s got the crack and who’s got the shit and who’s gonna kill who.
And then there’s the other bar around the corner. Full of White guys. And any drug you want. And connections all the way up to New York and down to Florida. Some all the way out in Colorado.
Takes about a month to sort out the players.
Three months in you can count on a score of whatever you need as easily as walking to the 7-11 and scoring a carton of milk. Three months? Hell, more like three weeks because everyone is desperate and the shit is everywhere because the truth is the entire city – north south east west White Black and Hispanic is sitting on an open air drug bazaar.
But The Guardian doesn’t tell this story. It doesn’t know any White people. It doesn’t want anyone to know that the drug economy of Baltimore is the only thing keeping the city from imploding and that the drug economy is not isolated and locked into Sandtown or Winchester or even in Pigtown but is fully integrated into the entirety of the city from Canton to Dundalk and so on to Remington and Waverly and everywhere in-between. 24/7 anything you want anything you need is just a phone call away. And that’s not in spite of Stingray and the destruction of the 4th Amendment it’s because of Stingray and the destruction of the 4th Amendment because the police are the biggest dealers in Baltimore.
Oh sure there’s honest cops. And there’s “legitimate” busts*. And then there’s everything else.
Including the real estate mafia and the banks and the nonprofits and the universities who are all laundering drug money and keeping the drug economy – and the city – afloat – on an ocean of white powder and green leaves and pills and dirty needles.
But that’s not a woke story. That’s not a hip(ster) story. That’s not a story that limp dick White journalists of both sexes and their morally limp White hipster readers want to hear or have told because then they’d have to start dealing with complicity.
No, it’s far easier to look in the other direction and turn Black Americans into your pet. Rub their heads for luck or to clean your conscience.
Mr. Kurtz, he still dead.
For a look at the inherent mendacity and corruption of the reporting and some of the complex realities of Baltimore, see the following:
*In the context of a completely illegitimate system defining the distinction between legitimate bust and illegitimate bust becomes at best, a moving target.
For another example of The Guardian’s fetish and their sick symbiotic relationship with David Simon, see the article linked below:
The Guardian’s I just can’t quit you relationship with David Simon has resurfaced. In the clickbait propaganda piece below The Guardian again gives the Sage of Baltimore 2.0 yet another hand job, swallows more loaded bullshit about Baltimore and Simon’s “genius” and again refuses to do any actual journalism and goes on ignoring the rest of the city. And for a moral dumpster dive read the comments below the line. One after another the White fans of Saint Simon post comments that utterly betray an aloof de facto bigotry and colonizing exploitation. Completely alienated from the truth, disinterested in nuance, and hostile to exposure of the White power structure or the White drug culture, they go on and on like proper cultists repeating the dogma – The Wire is the most brutally honest show in the history of television and David Simon is a genius.
Well The Guardian comes clean (sort of, and in the typical smug liberal our shit doesn’t stink manner one would expect) about it’s sick symbiosis with David Simon. See the article below:
In a slightly different context Woody Allen once quipped: Yes I’m a bigot, but for the left.
As an example of the systemic hypocrisy of the faux left in general and specifically of the sort of hypocrisy to be found at The Guardian consider the review linked below and in place of its assault on the extent to which the film being reviewed turns Japan into a fetish piece for White people, substitute, Baltimore and Black Americans.