The Trump Buffet
Several months ago it became clear that Trumpism is a corrosive force that corrupts everyone in Donald Trump’s orbit. What makes Trumpism corrupting is that it is not possible to pick and choose from the Trump buffet. You cannot endorse the border fence, hope for a good Supreme Court appointment, and call it a day. Signing on with Trumpism means being forced to defend every utterance to pass the man's lips. Witness what happened last week.
Trump declared that a federal judge born in Indiana is a "Mexican" who therefore couldn't fairly adjudicate the civil case in which Trump is being sued for fraud stemming from "Trump University." This charge—that someone's race or ethnicity precludes the possibility of their being able to perform a job competently—is, as Sen. Ben Sasse said, the literal definition of racism.
[ Naturally most of SI's Trumpers felt they had to defend this ... thus showing Trump does indeed erode character. ]
Seeing this merde sandwich sliding toward them on the buffet, many of the Republicans who have formally endorsed Trump tried to pass. The collective objections from people such as Paul Ryan and Marco Rubio could be fairly paraphrased as, Well, yes, he may be a racist. But he's our racist.
That wasn't good enough for Trump, who doubled down. His campaign had initially circulated a memo to its surrogates that instructed them to avoid commenting on the fraud lawsuit. But then Trump himself held a conference call with high-level supporters and surrogates in which he told them to "Take that order and throw it the hell out." And then Trump gave his own marching orders: "The people asking the questions—those are the racists," he said. "I would go at 'em."
Much like O.J. Simpson vowing to go after the real killers, Trump and his surrogates now contend that it is people like Paul Ryan who are the real racists. This contention is absurd and laughable, but also instructive. It further reveals the nature of Trumpism.
Donald Trump is, at this point, only an aspirational authoritarian. But Trumpism is already an authoritarian system, demanding unthinking loyalty and enthusiasm and disregard for the truth. Remember back half a dozen scandals or so, when it was revealed that Donald Trump used to call reporters and praise himself while pretending to be Donald Trump's publicist? As Ben Domenech wrote, "This is a thing that happened and that Donald Trump admitted happened, both in a court of law and in the press, in 1990 and in 1991."
But when the story resurfaced, Trump changed his mind and insisted not only that this thing had never happened, but that he had never previously admitted to it, either. So it was a lie, squared. And then Trump sent out Paul Manafort to dutifully insist on national television that if Trump now says he never pretended to be his own publicist, then Manafort believes him.
What's important here isn't the lie, but the fact that Trump knows he's lying, and that Manafort knows he's lying, and that they both know that you know they're lying, too. And that they don't care, because they believe that they hold the authority to make you acquiesce to their version of reality. In Trumpism, lying is an exercise of power. We have seen this before.
[ Lyin' Donald and Lyin' Hillary are alike in this and the people who defend their lies on both sides demean themselves. Hillary's supporters and Donald's supporters are two sides of the same coin. They both have the left truth and integrity behind. They both justify it the same way ..... the other side is so evil, we have to embrace our devil. ]
In 1978 Václav Havel wrote a famous essay titled "The Power of the Powerless." Havel considered the case of a greengrocer in the Eastern bloc who puts a sign in his shop window proclaiming "Workers of the world, unite!" Here's Havel:
Is he genuinely enthusiastic about the idea of unity among the workers of the world? .??.??. I think it can safely be assumed that the overwhelming majority of shopkeepers never think about the slogans they put in their windows, nor do they use them to express their real opinions. .??.??. He [does it] simply because it has been done that way for years, because everyone does it, and because that is the way it has to be. If he were to refuse, there could be trouble. He could be reproached for not having the proper decoration in his window; someone might even accuse him of disloyalty. He does it because these things must be done if one is to get along in life. .??.??.
The slogan is really a sign, and as such it contains a subliminal but very definite message. Verbally, it might be expressed this way: "I, the greengrocer XY, live here and I know what I must do. I behave in the manner expected of me. I can be depended upon and am beyond reproach. I am obedient and therefore I have the right to be left in peace." This message, of course, has an addressee: it is directed above, to the greengrocer's superior. .??.??. It seems senseless to require the greengrocer to declare his loyalty publicly. But it makes sense nevertheless. .??.??.
The greengrocer had to put the slogan in his window, therefore, not in the hope that someone might read it or be persuaded by it, but to contribute, along with thousands of other slogans, to the panorama that everyone is very much aware of. This panorama, of course, has a subliminal meaning as well: it reminds people where they are living and what is expected of them. It tells them what everyone else is doing, and indicates to them what they must do as well, if they don't want to be excluded, to fall into isolation, alienate themselves from society, break the rules of the game, and risk the loss of their peace and tranquility and security.
Havel's description of why the greengrocer puts up the sign is eerily analogous to why so many elected Republicans have endorsed Trump. As is Havel's imagining of what happens if the shopkeeper breaks with the system:
Let us now imagine that one day something in our greengrocer snaps and he stops putting up the slogans merely to ingratiate himself. .??.??. He begins to say what he really thinks at political meetings. And he even finds the strength in himself to express solidarity with those whom his conscience commands him to support. In this revolt the greengrocer steps out of living within the lie. He rejects the ritual and breaks the rules of the game. .??.??. His revolt is an attempt to live within the truth.
The bill is not long in coming. He will be relieved of his post as manager of the shop and transferred to the warehouse. His pay will be reduced. His hopes for a holiday in Bulgaria will evaporate. His children's access to higher education will be threatened. His superiors will harass him and his fellow workers will wonder about him.
All of which hits remarkably close to home for those conservatives who have criticized Trump and refused to get with the program. But the parallels continue. Havel, again:
Most of those who apply these sanctions, however, will not do so from any authentic inner conviction but simply under pressure from conditions, the same conditions that once pressured the greengrocer to display the official slogans. They will persecute the greengrocer either because it is expected of them, or to demonstrate their loyalty, or simply as part of the general panorama, to which belongs an awareness that this is how situations of this sort are dealt with, that this, in fact, is how things are always done, particularly if one is not to become suspect oneself.
[ I see Trumpers come here and they acknowledge TX is so red, if Trump can't win here with my vote, he can't win anywhere. But still publicly saying I won't vote for this disgusting man, you can, but I won't bothers Trumpers. I presume it must be a reproach and if it is, it's because they realize what I say about him is on the money. They KNOW IT and are bothered by it. ]
Which is exactly right. Neither Paul Manafort nor Chris Christie nor any of the other political professionals who have rallied to Trump hold anything like an inner conviction about his merits. They do what he asks because they are being paid, or because they hope for a career-saving political appointment, or because it gets them into the regular rotation on cable.
And as for the rest of Trump's nominal supporters—the Marco Rubios and Mitch McConnells and Paul Ryans of the world—they do it because they are part of the panorama and because it is how things have always been done.
Yet as Havel knew, an act of rebellion from even one greengrocer can be powerfully destabilizing. He can "upset the power structure by tearing apart what holds it together" and demonstrate "that living a lie is living a lie." Because "as long as appearance is not confronted with reality, it does not seem to be appearance. As long as living a lie is not confronted with living the truth, the perspective needed to expose its mendacity is lacking. As soon as the alternative appears, however, it threatens the very existence of appearance and living a lie in terms of what they are, both their essence and their all-inclusiveness."
This, then, is how you fight Trumpism. You refuse to put the sign in the grocery store window, as honorable Republicans such as Ben Sasse, Jeff Flake, and Lindsey Graham have done. Or you take the sign down, as Mark Kirk did when he rescinded his endorsement of Trump. It would be good if Susan Collins, Ron Johnson, Kelly Ayotte, and other elected Republicans were to join their company.
It may be too late to save the GOP's 2016 prospects. It is not too late to salvage the party's honor. Trumpism corrupts; but as Václav Havel understood, it is never too late to shrug off the yoke of corruption.
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