Two or three years ago, I took a call from the Business Agent of the Stagehands Union for a job setting up a political rally for a then relatively unknown candidate for Governor in Daytona, Florida. It was a very early morning call, something like 6 A.M., which meant I had to back time the hour-plus drive to be on time. As it turned out, I was diverted into a construction traffic pattern and lost my bearings on my GPS. I eventually arrived at one of Florida’s ubiquitous strip malls which housed Republican party headquarters for Daytona.
Our job was to set up staging, audio, and banners for the event and provide help for the media, like CNN and ABC, who were covering the rally. Taping down and running their cabling, lights, etc. I should have seen it as an ominous premonition of things to come when I looked up at the wall I was setting up a light tree next to, and saw damage from what apparently was a bullet hole. In fact, when I asked the production assistant if, indeed this was a bullet hole, she responded in the affirmative. “Yes, they had a drive-by shooting this week. It shattered the plate glass, but they got it fixed. Suddenly, what should have been another routine stagehand gig was turning into the urge to flee in self-preservation. Remember, this is the literal center of crazy “Florida Man” stories. Anything was possible that day, obviously.
Not surprising, then that “Red State Florida” catapulted Ron DeSantis into the Governor’s chair, if only by a narrow margin, according to Democratic opponents. Little were they aware of how much damage one person in power can do. I’m still stunned.
The first time I remember seeing DeSantis in a public role, and as a public speaker, was standing behind a lectern giving helpful Hurricane updates. He seemed like a relatively benign presence, just another public official doing his job. I was completely ambivalent in my feelings about him. What harm could he do as Governor, after all?
Then COVID hit, and everything changed. I still remember driving home from work at the second part-time job that I had, resigned to the fact that I was done there, and had no employment options, but then again, everyone was terrified. How would we, literally, and economically survive? Stagehand gigs were also canceled across the board.
The first few weeks, DeSantis seemed like a voice of helpful reason, pointing to the Florida State Department Of Health for data advisories on the spread, attending press events as a sort of clumsy MC presence, fumbling with masks he couldn’t fit on his head, and obviously angry about wearing a mask at all. Another premonition.
Florida, in the literal sense, never really truly locked down. DeSantis, in a strange symbiosis with Donald Trump, literally began mirroring the pronouncements that came out of The White House, and with barely a few weeks passing since the first reported COVID cases, declared that despite 83 deaths, NOT locking down and ignoring COVID was a “success”.
As Floridians became understandably more uncertain and vocally upset, instead of facing the public in State media forums, DeSantis chose to fly to Washington to be photographed and videotaped in large press events. A sort of bizarre mutual admiration society between Trump and DeSantis. Florida, it would soon become apparent, was just a temporary stop on the way to where he presumably felt he truly belonged: as President and leader of the world.
It was also obvious that DeSantis was going to do the COVID crisis his way, going as far as arresting the FDOH data scientist, Rebekah Jones, and firing her for insubordination. He sent police to raid her home with clear intentions of intimidation and suppressing data. The major newspapers and media in Florida looked on haplessly but didn’t offer much pushback against a clear abuse of power and overreach, in some cases going for the low blow and assaulting her character. The inference was that she wasn’t morally pure enough and deserved her fate. It was, and remains, abuse of power. DeSantis was literally sucessful in making her disappear. Suddenly, any media outlet that stood up to question DeSantis, not only about COVID. but on ANY issue was publicly bullied and harassed, with the threat of losing access permanently.
There is an astounding lack of empathy, bloated ego, and quickness to anger that I haven’t seen in public appearances of many politicians over many years. It’s a childish arrogance infused with mean-spiritedness. He is never wrong and it can never be insinuated that he is.
Here we are in 2022. DeSantis has left a legacy of five million cases of COVID, and nearly 73,000 preventable deaths. Strangely, and this is the apparent fact that I still can’t reconcile in my head, DeSantis’s inaction on COVID policy is congruent with the US and other Western governments. Dropping masks were once the domain of a governor who literally bullied children in public forums, but now, it’s pretty much the domain of the Western world.
He has surrounded himself with supplicants and stooges, including a newly appointed Surgeon General who dutifully repeats the theme: COVID is not stopped by vaccines, masks, or other performative “theater”. Presumably, DeSantis also believes, as his SG does, in demon seed.
Make no mistake, underestimating DeSantis as an aberration, or as a stooge, is foolish. He has perfected a deceptive practice of spotlighting self-created “problems” that require outlandish legislative “solutions”: Anti-Abortion bills, “Don’t Say Gay”, Proclamations attacking LGBTQ people, banning thinking about or teaching Critical Race Theory. Everyone is aware of these atrocities, enabled by a Republican majority in the Florida State legislature. DeSantis has powerful money lobbies that would love to see the legislative “actions”, listed above, as national policy platforms. He has media ON OTHER CONTINENTS singing his praises.
We can only hope that some candidate comes forward free from agendas, but with the current powder keg environment, I’m afraid that the country will embrace the extreme and authoritarian, and all bets will be off.