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A masked Gov. John Bel Edwards reflects during remarks by Dr. Phyllis Mason, Chief Medical Officer for Natchitoches Regional Medical Center, at a press conference August 2, 2021, addressing Louisiana's COVID-19 response. As confirmed COVID-19 cases and hospitalizations continued to surge in Louisiana, Gov. John Bel Edwards reinstituted an indoor mask mandate requiring residents to wear face coverings in schools, churches, businesses and any other public spaces. ORG XMIT: BAT2112311015430063

The end of Gov. John Bel Edwards’ tenure in office has offered an opportunity to take stock, and all the farewell interviews and retrospectives are a collective reminder of what an eventful time it’s been.

One striking thing is how many different ways there are to tell the story of the last eight years. Some news pieces focused on Louisiana’s journey from fiscal crisis to stability, some on Edwards’ steady stewardship during disaster after disaster, some on the badly weakened Democratic Party he leaves behind and some on specific legacy projects, from reducing mass incarceration and investing in education to pivoting to a clean energy economy.

It’s been a lot, so much so that declaring the last word on Edwards’ governorship is a challenge.

But I’ve got a nomination for that last word, a thread that has run throughout many of Edwards’ actions: empathy.

Drawing on his Catholic faith, some deep thought about the role of government and what came across as simple human decency, the governor has stood out from many other political leaders for his ability to put himself in the shoes of those without influence or connections. This shouldn’t be rare in public life, but too often, it is.

I spoke with Edwards as he was preparing to take office, and this is how he described his philosophy:

“I still believe that government has a role to play in improving people’s lives. And that you can’t do everything for everybody, both because it’s inappropriate and because it costs too much, but within reason, we ought to be helping people have a better life. And I don’t believe in a laissez-faire approach to that.”

He said this in response to my question about why he has bucked the regional tide and remained a Democrat, but the sentiment doesn’t have to be political, or divisive. In fact, I don’t recall too many times when Edwards aimed to be either, even when the issues in question were.

Instead, he talked relentlessly about how government policies affect people who are trying to make it from one day to the next.

In pushing for a higher minimum wage and measures aimed at closing the state’s appalling gender wage gap — both of which the Legislature failed to adopt — he talked about single moms working multiple jobs to support their kids. In opposing restrictions on the rights of transgender kids to get gender-affirming health care and use the pronoun of their choice in school, Edwards zeroed in on how hard their lives already are, even without what he considered government bullying.

Edwards often described practical benefits of accepting Medicaid expansion under the Affordable Care Act — which his predecessor Bobby Jindal had refused to do — such as the influx of federal money that would otherwise to go other states, and the cost benefits of providing preventive care to patients and revenue to rural hospitals. But he also never stopped talking about the fact that the beneficiaries are people who work for a living in low-wage jobs or without benefits. He never cast them as lazy, or takers.

While he opposes abortion, Edwards has also empathized with victims of rape and incest who become pregnant, and pushed for exceptions to Louisiana’s near-total post-Roe abortion ban. His support for this and Medicaid expansion, he said in my final interview with him, stems from his “pro-life” worldview.

“I don't think St. Peter is going to ask us whether we grew government, but we've been told in Matthew 25 we're going to be held to account for how we treat the least among us,” he said.

Not everyone will agree on these things, or even that he’s always acted with complete empathy. Abortion rights supporters, for example, note that Edwards signed a law outlawing the procedure even in the case of rape and incest, and that the same law can make it difficult for women to experiencing dangerous pregnancy complications to get appropriate care.

Nor is his outlook automatically linked with political party; there’s no reason Republicans wouldn’t and shouldn’t be just as empathetic.

Indeed, one of the most disappointing developments of the Edwards era was the collapse of bipartisan cooperation around the response to the COVID pandemic.

Edwards took a do-unto-others approach, and appealed to all Louisianans’ better angels in urging and in some cases requiring vaccination and masking so as to protect the most vulnerable from the deadly disease. On at least one occasion, he aired his frustration with those who pushed back.

"I’ve heard it said often: Louisiana’s the most pro-life state in the nation. I want to believe that. … In this context, it ought to mean something," Edwards said in 2021.

"Do you give a damn?” he asked. “I hope you do. I do.”

For eight years, it showed. 

Email Stephanie Grace at [email protected] or follow her on Twitter, @stephgracela.

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