In his own words

For to all who swell with proud thoughts there is a noisiness in their speech . . . unsteadiness in their conduct . . . rancor in their reply.  Their mind is ever strong in inflicting, weak in enduring . . .”

St. Gregory the Great, Morals on the Book of Job (c. 578-595 AD)

 

Christian thinkers have long recognized that all the sins are rooted in pride.  I believe that most of Mr. Trump’s defects are rooted in his narcissism. Let’s allow Mr. Trump to speak for himself:

“Nobody’s ever been more successful than me.” (Interview with the Des Moines Register)

“I’m speaking with myself, number one, because I have a very good brain and I’ve said a lot of things.”  (on who his advisers are, March 16, 2016, on MSNBC)

“My IQ is one of the highest — and you all know it! Please don’t feel so stupid or insecure; it’s not your fault.” (Twitter)

“[T]here’s nobody like me.  Nobody.” (his book, Crippled America: How to Make America Great Again)

On Islamic terrorism: “I alone can solve.” (Twitter)

On America’s descent from “greatness:”  “I alone can fix it.”  (RNC acceptance speech)

I am “running the biggest real-estate empire in the world.”  (Weekly Standard, 1999)

  “Nobody knows more about taxes than I do, maybe in the history of the world.”    (Interview with AP, May 2016)

“I’m the king of Palm Beach.”  (Trump Nation, 2005)

“I know more about ISIS than the generals do.” (November 2015)

“I will be the greatest jobs president God ever created.” (June 2015)

“We’re on the cover of every newspaper, every magazine.  Time magazine many times.  I just learned they’re doing yet another cover on Trump – I love that.  You know, Time magazine’s a good magazine.  You grow up reading Time magazine – who ever thought you’d be on the cover of Time magazine?   Especially so much?”  (The New Yorker, 7/11-18/16)

During an MSNBC interview, Trump responded to questions about bankruptcies by saying he was not involved with these companies.  Michael Isikoff asked Trump what exactly he was paid for if he “had nothing to do with running the company.”  And Trump replied to that: “Excuse me . . . Because of my genius. OK?”

“My fingers are long and beautiful, as, it has been well documented, are various other parts of my body.”  (New York Post, 2011)

“Isn’t he handsome?” (holding up a picture of himself, Reform Party meeting, 1999)

“Love him or hate him, Trump is a man who is certain about what he wants and sets out to get it, no holds barred. Women find his power almost as much of a turn-on as his money.” (yes, this is Trump speaking about himself in the third person, Kluger, The Narcissist Next Door)

“I will be so good at the military your head will spin.” (Hugh Hewitt Show, 2015)

“The beauty of me is that I’m very rich.” (Good Morning America, 2011)

“I think the only difference between me and the other candidates is that I’m more honest and my women are more beautiful.” (NY Times, 1999)

When psychologists write about those afflicted with narcissistic personality disorder, they point to a narrative of self that is remarkably consistent across time, and serves as the main tool used by the narcissist to navigate the world.  You’ve just read Mr. Trump’s narrative, spoken across the years in his own words.   His most distinctive characteristic is a dangerously inflated ego, consistently revealed by extraordinary and arrogant grandiosity.

Please consider again what you’ve just read.  Healthy people do not speak like this. Healthy people do not believe such things about themselves.

Think about the events of the past week, and marvel at the aptness of St. Gregory’s 1400-year-old prediction of the consequences of Mr. Trump’s grossly inflated pride: 

·      noisiness in speech

·      unsteadiness in conduct

·      rancor in their reply

·      strong in inflicting (i.e., insulting others)

·      weak in enduring (i.e., dealing with criticism).

The next couple of posts will deconstruct the narcissistic personality and the dangers it presents when invested with political power.

 

A line crossed

Just when we thought it couldn’t get worse, Donald Trump has crossed another line, and it has nothing to do with misogyny and sexual assault.   He has moved from nascent demagogue and proto-fascist, to a full-blown enemy of constitutional democracy.   He now tells his supporters that the “system is rigged,” and if he loses it means the election will have been “stolen.”  This is an explicit and unprecedented repudiation of our democracy and its institutions.  He now states that his goal is to demolish the entire political establishment (“replacing a failed and corrupt establishment . . . with a new government”).   He admits “our campaign represents a true existential threat like they haven’t seen before.”  He threatens, like the worst sort of banana-republic dictator, to jail his opponent upon acquiring power, regardless of her exoneration by established due process.  I cannot see how he could possibly take the Presidential oath to “preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States."   Like all fascist demagogues, he rejects our laws and institutions, and offers in their place “I alone.”

Up until now, many good people were unable to perceive the real Donald Trump, blinded by their long-time dislike of Hillary and allegiance to the GOP.   But the real Donald Trump has now come into focus.  As he announced three days ago on Twitter:  “It is so nice that the shackles have been taken off me and I can now fight for America the way I want to.”  I take this statement at face value.   The sexual assault video and subsequent allegations finally have freed him from the need to make even a feeble attempt to deal with substantive issues or advance a coherent program.  Mr. Trump is now back in his comfort zone, ranting against imagined enemies, spewing unfiltered vitriol, and wallowing in the adulation of rally crowds.   His declared enemies now include his own party, pollsters, the financial industry, and the entire journalism profession.  Yesterday’s speech was particularly unhinged, with eerie echoes of the 1930s:  “Hillary Clinton meets in secret with international banks to plot the destruction of U.S. sovereignty.”   He tells us now that without him we are lost:  “This is a struggle for the survival of our nation, believe me.  And this will be our last chance to save it on November 8, remember that.”  The demagogue as the nation’s last best hope.  Classic.

The centerpiece of the Trump campaign is now a “reality” TV story line, where validity is irrelevant, and outrageousness and shock are the only values.  The story line is Trump as a victim under vicious assault by a vast conspiracy:  “They will attack you, they will slander you, they will seek to destroy your career and your family, they will seek to destroy everything about you, including your reputation. They will lie, lie, lie, and then again they will do worse than that, they will do whatever is necessary.”   And of course, the demagogue as martyr for the people:  “Nevertheless, I take all of these slings and arrows gladly for you.”   At the same time, he remains a winner:  “The new, highly respected Rasmussen poll just came out this morning. Just released. Shows up nationally 2 points ahead, Trump. Beautiful.”  And the climactic argument:  “Vote for Donald Trump. You're going to see something and you'll be so happy. You'll be so thrilled.”  Well, in that case . . .

So, as he says, Mr. Trump is now finally free to pursue politics “the way I want to.”

(If you wish to read the whole speech, you can find the transcript at http://www.npr.org/2016/10/13/497857068/transcript-donald-trumps-speech-responding-to-assault-accusations )

 

The American Experiment

A republic, madam, if you can keep it."  

            Benjamin Franklin

 

The MacArthur Fellow and short-story writer George Saunders, in a recent piece on Trumpism, wrote “I’ve never before imagined America as fragile, as an experiment that could, within my very lifetime, fail. But I imagine it that way now.” I’m a bit older than George Saunders, and so was in the generation that was taught in grade-school civics about “the American experiment.” This was, I suppose, designed to motivate us children to take on the burdens of citizenship. The outcome of the “experiment,” we were taught, was very much up in the air, and largely depended on us.

As a result, I still regard the promise of America as a hypothesis.  It was tested by slavery, fascism, and communism, and I believe that further tests will follow. Trumpism is one of them. And there is nothing written in the stars that says we must pass. 

Our founding fathers had a great fear of democracy, which all too often had resulted in one tyranny being replaced with another. So they tried an experiment. Foreseeing the dangers of demagogic populism, they established a more limited type of democracy, a constitutional democracy, where the passions of the people were, at every turn, tested, tempered and slowed by a multi-polar government and a framework of fundamental rights that could not be denied, even at the behest of the majority of the citizenry.  

Some people who plan to hold their noses and vote for Mr. Trump acknowledge that much of his core program (such as a religious test for admittance to the country) is both morally repugnant and illegal. But they argue, it’s really OK, because Trump will be stopped from implementing his worst ideas by our system of constitutional checks and balances. For example, the New York Times quoted Senator John McCain (before he withdrew his support for Mr. Trump) as saying that he did not believe that the nation would be in danger under a Trump presidency: “I still believe we have the institutions of government that would restrain someone who seeks to exceed their constitutional obligations,” Mr. McCain said. “We have a Congress. We have the Supreme Court. We’re not Romania.”  

I respectfully disagree with this line of thinking. In my novel Christian Nation, I used the counterfactual of a Sarah Palin presidency to probe the strength of our democracy in the face of severe economic distress, a second major terrorist attack, and the simultaneous rise of a populist demagogue. My careful analysis of constitutional law and political strategy convinced me that the nation could fail that test.  

One reason is that the effectiveness of our constitutional architecture is predicated on certain social and cultural conditions:

  • belief in and respect for human dignity
  • trust in the integrity of the system and its institutions
  • acceptance of the rule of law, and
  • maintenance of a minimum educational standard.

To judge the risk to our democracy posed by Trumpism, we need to assess the strength of these foundations.  It is a mixed picture.  The advances we have made in civil rights for women, African-Americans, LGBT people, and disabled citizens demonstrate a common and growing commitment to human dignity.  (I believe this to be true notwithstanding the racism and misogyny of some of Trumps’ most ardent supporters because, despite the voice given them by Mr. Trump, they are a shrinking minority.)   More troubling, however, is the fact that Americans saying they trust the institutions of government fell from almost 80% in 1965 to only 19% this year.   And international rankings of America’s educational performance (24th in reading, 36th in math) would throw Thomas Jefferson ("An educated citizenry is a vital requisite for our survival as a free people.") into despair.   It is undeniable that the foundation necessary for our constitutional democracy to endure a challenge like Trumpism is, like the country itself, deeply fractured.

Commentators on both the left and the right have reached the same conclusion.  Adam Gopnik argues “Those who think that the underlying institutions of American government are immunized against [fascism] fail to understand history.  In every historical situation where a leader of Trump’s kind come to power, normal safeguards collapse.”  David Brooks agrees:  “As the founders would have understood, he is a threat to the long and glorious experiment of American self-government.  He is precisely the kind of scapegoating, promise-making, fear-driving demagogue they feared.”  Just when our constitutional democracy may be put to a great test, we find that democracy greatly weakened by a popular loss of trust in its institutions, a debased popular culture, and the chronic failures of our system of education.

No matter how deep your antipathy toward Secretary Clinton, refocusing on the idea of “the American experiment” and the fragility of our republic offers an instructive perspective on your choice.   Adam Gopnik put it best: “No reasonable person, no matter how opposed to her politics, can believe for a second that Clinton’s accession to power would be a threat to the Constitution or the continuation of American democracy.  No reasonable person can believe that Trump’s accession to power would not be.”

A note on recent developmentsSo the Billy Bush video showed Trump to be a vulgar misogynist.   This is hardly a surprise.  Nor does it rank in the top group of reasons that Trump must not become president.   It is deeply unsettling that it took an accidental video, and one dealing with sex, to push responsible Republican leaders over the line.   The real scandal is that they were willing to overlook his crippling and delusional narcissism, ignorance, lack of skill or temperament to do the job, proto-fascist demonization of immigrants and Muslims, racism, disrespect for the constitution and rule of law, not to mention fantastical and bizarre ideas about policy (build The Wall, take the oil, get the jobs back from China, etc., etc.).   And it is doubly unsettling that this all resulted in the second “debate” sinking to new lows of ugly meaninglessness.   Trump has dragged us all into the sewer where he reigns as self-professed King, and I for one awoke this morning feeling dirty and in deep despair for my beloved country.    

It's personal

A few weeks ago I had lunch with a friend who immigrated (legally) with his family from a mainly Muslim nation many years ago. To protect his privacy I will say only this: He is a learned man, a global leader in his field who has risen to the top of his profession, where he makes huge contributions to his adopted country. He has a wide circle of admiring acquaintances in both the public and private sectors. 

I was astonished therefore when he shared with me his concern that bringing his family to the United States decades ago may have been the biggest mistake of his life. I was astonished to learn that this prominent man was scared: scared for the physical safety of his family, scared that he might not be able to freely practice the religion of his birth, scared that because of his religion he might have to leave America, and -- even worse -- scared that he might wait too long before leaving. I could not believe that I was hearing these things in a restaurant in lower Manhattan in the second decade of the 21st century. It shocked me profoundly.

In the days following that lunch, I realized that I had made a fundamental omission in my consideration of Trumpism. I was writing about it in terms of history, law, politics, and morality.   But I had failed to understand that it also has a profoundly personal dimension. I had failed to consider Trump from the perspective of millions of Muslim citizens, and from the perspective of hard-working immigrants of all national origins. For them, the fact that a bigoted nativist had received the nomination of a major party already has betrayed their belief in the promise of America. Many moved their families to America to escape fear, and now they find themselves in fear’s acidic grip. All the things that we observe as merely political, they experience as personal. 

These people are our neighbors and friends. They are the people who mow your lawn, clean your house and look after your children. They are the people who are researching the medical breakthrough that might save your life. Let’s remember on November 8 that for these people, it’s personal. Defeating Mr. Trump is only the first thing we need to do to restore faith with those who came here seeking to redeem the great promise of America. 

What is a demagogue?

Last week USA Today called Mr. Trump a “dangerous demagogue.”  Earlier in the week, the editorial board of the Los Angeles Times in its endorsement called him “a thin-skinned demagogue.”  Dozens of other editorial boards and commentators have used the “D-word.”   But what exactly does it mean?

Demagoguery is a problem implicit in democracy, an occasional illness, if you will, to which democracies are particularly prone. Democracy gives power to the demos, or people, and from time to time the people fall prey to the illusions peddled by a strongman who manipulates them emotionally with the goal of transcending ordinary political conventions or constitutional limits.  We call such a person a “demagogue.” Hamilton warned in The Federalist against leaders who begin “paying an obsequious court to the people; commencing demagogues, and ending tyrants.”  

The demagogue label is thus highly elastic. The critical question is how to distinguish between a charismatic populist politician and a dangerous demagogue. What is that line and when is it crossed? Among political scientists and historians, there seems to be a consensus that when a politician exhibits each of the following six characteristic behaviors, he or she has crossed the line and can be considered a demagogue:   

Inflammatory language. The speech of the demagogue is designed to excite popular passions and foreclose reasoned discussion; as Michael Singer, who wrote a recent study of the demagogue, put it, “bringing maximal heat and minimal light to the public discourse.”  

Lots of heat, but little light, is an apt description of the Trump stump speech, and certainly fits what we heard coming from the Trump side of the stage at the first debate. The New York Times analyzed all 95,000 words uttered by Trump during one week, and concluded: “The most striking hallmark was Mr. Trump’s constant repetition of divisive phrases, harsh words and violent imagery.”

Exploitation of popular prejudice and false belief. The demagogue appeals to the darker side of human nature, targeting the lowest common denominator in a culture, especially fear, resentment, anger, and hatred for a group of “others.”

Washington Post columnist Michael Gerson argues, “Cynically exploiting fear is an art.  And Trump is a Rembrandt of demagoguery.” Trump’s message is aimed at the darkest corners of the American psyche. By dismissing mutual respect and human dignity as only so much “political correctness,” he brought forth an eruption of latent anger, prejudice, hate, and misogyny, and rode this foul wave to the nomination. 

Intolerance of criticism. The demagogue lashes out against every slight. Rarely content with simply disagreeing with opponents, he seeks to undermine their legitimacy. The demagogue seeks to silence or eliminate critics.  

And so we see with Trump, whose “birther” libel was irresistible for its potential to de-legitimize President Obama, who wants to change the libel laws in order to silence his media critics, and who could not resist using a presidential debate to pursue a long-standing feud with another celebrity. In the same analysis of a week’s worth of Trump talk, the Times reported: “Mr. Trump tends to attack a person rather than an idea or a situation, like calling political opponents ‘stupid’ (at least 30 times), ‘horrible’ (14 times), ‘weak’ (13 times) . . . .”

Incitement to, or tolerance of, violence. Even before he embraces actual organized violence, the demagogue typically “green lights” violent acts by his supporters, and titillates his audiences by hints of violence to come. 

Trump signaled his approval of violence at his rallies (“maybe he should have been roughed up” (about a protester assaulted by Trump supporters), “I’d like to punch him in the face”).  His speeches are infused with words “kill,” “destroy” and “fight.” At an event in Raleigh, Mr. Trump was asked by a 12-year-old girl, “I’m scared — what are you going to do to protect this country?” His reply:  “You know what, darling? You’re not going to be scared anymore. They’re going to be scared.”

Rejection of normal rules of political conduct. The demagogue thrills his supporters by bucking the norms of political life. He lies with impudence, validates previously off-limits calumnies against the targeted “other,” and declines to follow rules and procedures, accusing the established order of being corrupt.  

Here Trump provides a textbook model, with a wholly unconventional campaign that violates every prior standard of acceptable political behavior, and repeated accusations that the process is corrupt and “rigged” against him.

Belief that the passions of the people justify violation of the constitution and laws. Demagogues typically do not understand or accept that in a constitutional democracy, the will of the people is limited by the rule of law.  

It doesn’t matter how many people support closing mosques or registering Muslims, it violates the constitution and cannot be done.   But Mr. Trump insists that it be done, and justifies it as the will of the people as embodied by him. When challenged that our troops might well refuse to obey an illegal order to kill the families of ISIS fighters, Trump replied:  “They won’t refuse. They’re not going to refuse me.  Believe me. . . .  If I say do it, they’re going to do it.”

*   *   *

The rise of a modern American demagogue has been expected for a long time. In 1997 the late philosopher Richard Rorty predicted that eventually “something will crack. The . . . electorate will decide that the system has failed and start looking around for a strongman to vote for . . . One thing that is very likely to happen is that the gains made in the past forty years by black and brown Americans, and by homosexuals, will be wiped out. Jocular contempt for women will come back into fashion . . . All the resentment which badly educated Americans feel about having their manners dictated to them by college graduates will find an outlet.”  

As so many thoughtful commentators have noted, many of Trump’s most ardent supporters share some genuine grievances and anxieties. And in many ways the system has failed them, and failed us all. But the embrace of a demagogue, no matter how valid the popular resentments that fuel him, always ends badly. Always. At some point, even his most die-hard supporters will realize, as Mark Singer put it, “they’ve been sold out by a huckster who coveted their votes only for the sake of his colossal self-regard. And that, all along, he had nothing real to offer.” 

What is fascism?

The neo-conservative Brookings fellow and Washington Post columnist Robert Kagan wrote that the attempt “to treat Donald Trump as a normal political candidate would be laughable were it no so perilous to the republic.” He called him “a singular threat to our democracy.” This is the critical point missing from most media coverage of Trump. So what exactly does Kagan mean?

What he means is that Trump presents a risk that goes beyond his lack of the skills and temperament necessary to be president. The risk is that, as a successful demagogue, he becomes the vehicle by which the virus of fascism, the great scourge of the 20th century, is unleashed in the 21st century.    

While speaking about my first novel, Christian Nation, I realized that a large part of the American public had only a vague idea of the meaning of the words “fascist” and “demagogue.” In this post I explore the meaning of fascism, and in the next I will review what we mean when we accuse a politician of demagoguery. 

It’s not easy to paint a clear picture of fascism, which is a type of nationalist authoritarianism.  It takes on the character of the place and age in which it arises. But wherever and whenever it erupts, fascism generally is characterized by six features: 

·      Nationalism.  Fascism glorifies “the nation,” and is almost always nativist and xenophobic.

·      Resentment of “others.” Fascism usually is based on a narrative of exaggerated humiliations designed to create a sense of victimhood. This narrative in turn always requires someone to blame, whether it be minorities in general, or a specific group like Jews, gays, intellectuals, or immigrants.

·      Fetishization of strength and power; contempt for the rule of law. Fascists and their followers are always marked by the crude worship of strength and machismo. They disdain weakness, which they see as explaining the many humiliations suffered by the nation. They show contempt for the rule of law, which they see as a type of weakness.

·      Aggression. The fetishization of strength and power manifests itself in an approach to foreign and domestic policy that is inevitably aggressive.  Fascism in power endorses violence and almost always results in war.

·      Disdain for the truth. Fascists assert that their core narrative is a type of truth that is “greater” than conventional objective truth. They show contempt for reason and learning. Fascist movements are always characterized by casual and effective lying.

·      Rejection of political convention. Fascist movements transcend and demolish conventional politics. They do not fit neatly on the conventional ideological spectrum. Fascist movements are not about policy, they are about the strongman and his narrative of redressing past insults, restoring national greatness, and eliminating the hated “other.” The fascist disdains the niceties of democratic culture. Because the fascist breaks all the normal rules and conventions of political life, he confounds elites and institutions, which do not know how to deal with him.

The concordance between these six core elements of fascism and the essential features of Trumpism should concern every American, regardless of ideology or politics. Consider each of them in turn:

·      Nationalism. “Make America Great Again” is the archetype of a nationalist slogan. It encompasses Trump’s narrative of decline due to weakness, and of the strongman as redeemer of national destiny (“I alone can fix it.”). “America First” (Trump’s catch-phrase for his foreign policy) was the name of the isolationist anti-Semitic organization that, prior to Pearl Harbor, urged the United States to appease Nazism. Trump has named his policy after America’s last and most disturbing outbreak of proto-fascism.

·      Resentment of “others.” Trump’s narrative is classic:  all will be well if we rid ourselves of the illegals and prevent further immigration. This time it is not Jews, but immigrants in general and Muslims in particular, who bear the blame for economic frustration, national decline, and feelings of insecurity. Trump’s adviser Newt Gingrich called for re-creating the notorious House Un-American Activities Committee to investigate citizens sympathetic to Islamism. Trump tells his most ardent supporters that they are victims of globalization, elites, China, immigrants, and bad trade deals; others are to blame for their troubles. 

·      Fetishization of strength and power; contempt for the rule of law. Trump says that our national humiliation (we are no longer great) is due to weakness: “We have been disrespected, mocked, and ripped off for many many years by people that were smarter, shrewder, tougher.” Of course he admires Putin; I am thunderstruck every time a journalist or pundit finds this to be inexplicable.  Trump admires Putin for his “very strong control over a country,” for his ruthless use of power, and for his authoritarian instincts. Trump’s narrative of strength and weakness is woven into every speech: “the military is going to be so strong” that “nobody is going to mess around with the United States.” And, as is so typical of the proto-fascist, his respect for brute power is matched by his disdain for the restraints posed by the rule of law. In 1989 Trump took out a full-page ad stating “Civil liberties end when an attack on our safety begins.” The New York Times recently gathered the views of legal scholars of all ideological persuasions who concluded that Trump had “a constitutional worldview that shows contempt for the First Amendment, the separation of powers and the rule of law.”

·      Aggression. Given the single axis of the Trump universe (winner/strong vs. loser/weak), it’s no surprise that his policy instincts tend toward the aggressive use of violence, whether the forced deportation of illegal immigrants or, in foreign policy, his promises to: “quickly and decisively bomb the hell out of ISIS,” “take the oil out of Iraq,” use torture “much worse” than waterboarding; and order U.S. troops to assassinate the families of ISIS fighters. Trump’s campaign rhetoric also is typical of nascent fascism, with its veiled approval of violence directed at his enemies (“maybe he should have been roughed up” (about a protester assaulted by Trump supporters), “I’d like to punch him in the face”).

·      Disdain for the truth. Trump’s unprecedented disdain for objective reality is the subject my previous posting, Trump and the truth.

·      Rejection of political convention. In seeking the presidency, Trump broke all the rules: he became a candidate without any prior political record, ran a wholly unconventional campaign, and violated every prior standard of acceptable political behavior. He committed repeated political suicide and yet survived (e.g., calling war hero McCain a loser for being captured, calling Judge Curel a Mexican and thus disqualified, disrespecting a Gold Star mother, etc.). His politics, such as they are, are hard to pin down along the ideological spectrum. His primary opponents and party leadership were confounded and unable to respond effectively. The pundits failed to understand him, and tenaciously predicted his political demise. The elites were in turn condescendingly dismissive and apoplectic. And the people loved it, enough to win him the nomination and perhaps even enough to win him the general election.   

As hard as it is to swallow, there can be no denying that by these six measures, Trumpism is a proto-fascist movement (“proto” in this case meaning rising, or precursor to).   

One reason this is hard to accept is that it requires us to take Trump more seriously than he deserves. But this too is a warning sign. Fascism always tends toward the farcical, and is rarely taken seriously in its early stages. American journalists returning from Germany in the 1930s reported of the fascist leader: "This guy is a clown. He's like a caricature of himself." This was consistent with the view of many Germans, who dismissed him as a self-obsessed “dunderhead,” “fool” and “big mouth.”    

Even so, Trump is no Franco, Hitler, or Mussolini. What he flirts with is a new type of fascism, adapted for the age. Carl Bernstein calls it the “fascinating intersection of celebrity and neo-fascism.” Who would have thought, Kagan asks, that after a long absence, fascism would again rear its head in America, not with jackboots and Nazi salutes, but “with a television huckster, a phony billionaire, a textbook egomaniac.”

Nonetheless, the lessons of history are clear: when politics drifts in the proto-fascist direction, it can no longer be business as usual, and the moral burden of stopping it falls on our individual shoulders, nowhere else.

Character

Accusations about shortcomings in character have become a standard part of every political campaign and in this one many people in good faith raise legitimate questions regarding his opponent’s character.   But the Trump phenomenon has turned the whole character question on its head.   He and his most ardent supporters do not defend against the charges of defective character, instead they celebrate his inversion of the norms of civil society:  greed, vulgarity, boorishness, bullying, ignorance, selfishness, pettiness, short-temper, cruelty, and bold dissembling have become markers of Trump’s toughness, his status, and his solidarity with his supporters.   As Catherine Rampell, writing in the Washington Post (May 16) put it, for Trump “every vice is a virtue.”   This may be unusual in the political realm, but not the celebrity realm, where British philosopher Simon Blackburn observes “the divinity that surrounds our celebrities is scarcely dinted and might even be enhanced by the most absurd behavior.”  After all, what is “reality” TV other than people behaving badly?

Apologies for a particularly long posting, but I believe it is merited by the importance of the subject.  In my last posting I discussed Trump and truthfulness.  What about the other elements of good character? 

To understand what modern pre-Trump Republicans considered the essential elements of good character, I consulted a book written by Ronald Reagan’s Secretary of Education and Chair of the National Endowment for the Humanities, Edward J. Bennett, The Book of Virtues.    Praised by conservative leaders ranging from Margaret Thatcher to Rush Limbaugh, Bennett tells stories that illustrate the meaning of ten human virtues:  self-discipline, compassion, responsibility, friendship, work, courage, perseverance, honesty, loyalty, and faith.   Of course this is not an exhaustive list.  Others, such as André Comte-Sponville in his hugely popular A Small Treatise on the Great Virtues, would add politeness, prudence, temperance, generosity, mercy, gratitude, humility, tolerance, gentleness, humor, and love.

Not all of these virtues are relevant to the job of president (you can be a decent president without humor, friendship, or faith, for example).  And because ambition, expedience, and compromise are at the heart of modern American politics, it certainly does not raise eyebrows when a candidate lacks the full desired measure of loyalty, good faith, fidelity, simplicity, purity, or gentleness. 

Here is my list of the virtues that traditionally have been regarded by both left and right as vital for the person into whose hands we entrust the presidency, the greatest power and responsibility a human being can have:

Self-discipline.   This is the great marker of personal maturity.  It signals that a person has learned to control the tempers, appetites, passions, and impulses we all share.  As Robert Gates, who has served eight presidents and was Secretary of Defense under both Presidents Bush and Obama put it, “when a president shoots off his mouth, there are no do-overs.”  Because every word uttered and action taken by the U.S. president is so enormously consequential, self-discipline, moderation, and self-restraint may be the traits we seek most in candidates for the job.   As has been widely noted, these are traits in which Trump seems most lacking.   For decades, he has demonstrated a lack of inclination, or perhaps inability, to control his impulsiveness.  

Prudence.   Prudence is the quality that tempers toughness and courage.   Toughness and courage also are virtues, but without the tempering effect of prudence, they can turn you into a bullying thug.   The more power you have, the more prudence is required.  Decisions made in anger or by impulse can lead to war or worse.   Prudence is the virtue that counsels care when you are inclined to be reckless, patience when you are inclined to be impulsive, and thoughtful consideration of alternatives when a course of action seems obvious.

Trump seems fueled instead by reckless anger.  He lashes out when minimally provoked.  There is no calibration or tempering of his responses to provocation.   As one prominent psychology professor put it, his personality traits suggest a president who would be “highly combustible . . . [a person] who never thinks twice about the collateral damage he will leave behind.  Tough.  Bellicose. Threatening.  Explosive.”   This is what most of the commentators mean when they say that Trump lacks the “temperament” to be president.

Compassion.  The president leads but also serves, and he or she must have an authentic compassionate interest in the citizenry.  Bennett defines compassion in a way that illuminates why it is often so lacking in narcissists such as Trump.   He writes that it is the virtue “that takes seriously the reality of other persons, their inner lives, their emotions, as well as their circumstances.”  Most narcissists cannot, as Bennett says, “take seriously” the interests of other people, who have no standing in comparison to the narcissist’s own desires.  

And the nexus between compassion and behavior?  A person with compassion, Bennett observes, is unable to treat anyone with “callous disregard.”  Trump appears to treat almost everyone with “callous disregard.”  As his ghostwriter observed, “People are dispensable and disposable in Trump’s world.”  Trump’s meanness, coarseness, crudeness, and vulgarity also are reflections of the absence of empathetic compassion because, as British philosopher Simon Blackburn explains, “Good manners are a small but constant adjustment to the reasonable expectations or needs of others.” 

Note that the narcissist is always a master at creating the illusion of compassion when necessary in order to achieve some desire or to make himself look good.  But narcissists rarely follow through, because their ends are generally served by the announcement of the good deed, and not its actual doing.   Reporters from the Washington Post could find evidence of only $10,000 in actual donations from millions of dollars Trump publicly promised to charities over the past seven years. 

Finally, the energy he inspires in his most ardent supporters is fueled by the antithesis of compassion, which is hate, the ultimate anti-virtue whose corrosive acidity dissolves what is left of our better selves.

Curiosity and Wisdom.   An active curiosity is what drives you to seek out a deeper understanding of a problem and a variety of perspectives, including those that conflict with your own.   Without curiosity, you cannot have knowledge.  And without knowledge, you cannot have wisdom, which is knowledge tempered by judgment and experience.   Tony Schwartz observed in Trump an “absolute lack of interest in anything beyond power and money.”  Trump is not a reader.  His short attention span limits his ability to absorb information.  The Wall Street Journal editorial page observed after the foreign policy forum “he shows so little knowledge about the world that it’s impossible to know how he would react.”  President Bush’s Defense Secretary calls Trump “stubbornly uninformed about the world.”

Humility.    Humility tempers confidence and allows a leader to seek and take advice, admit mistakes, and inspire others.  Trump has none.   Instead, he is an incessant braggart, crippled by the overwhelming vanity of the narcissist (described by Blackburn as “greedy desire for the admiration and envy of others”).  Crippled, because he simply cannot help himself.  His egomania is not a tactic or matter of choice.  His primary campaign consisted in large part of an extended boast about his poll results, but over the years he has bragged on the record about his IQ, his wealth, the size of his penis, even his humility.    On golf:  “Do I hit it long?  Is Trump strong?”  On business:  “Everything we’ve touched has been a big success.”   And this, in front of a national television audience:  “ . . .he referred to my hands -- 'if they're small, something else must be small.' I guarantee you there's no problem. I guarantee."  His book is “number one,” his defunct vodka, “a big success.”  Independent fact checkers at Politico said “his personal and professional boasts . . .rarely measure up when checked against primary sources.”   Thomas Moore called humility “that low, sweet root, from which all heavenly virtues shoot.”  Its absence in Trump may be the single animating source of his other character flaws.

Integrity.   Many of these virtues reinforce each other and resolve into a character trait we call “integrity.”  The idea of integrity has its origins in the concept of wholeness.   Although it includes honesty, it is something much greater than that.  Integrity is a consistency of character governed by a determination to do the right thing.  If your actions are governed by a coherent set of moral principles, then your behavior will be predicable and consistent.   You will do the right thing.   When you lack this kind of integrity, your actions are unpredictable and inconsistent. 

*   *   *          

So what does this brief review of the essential virtues tell us?  Highly conservative Wall Street Journal columnist Bret Stephens, with whom I rarely agree, put it well:  “The central issue in this election isn’t Mr. Trump’s ideas, such as they are.  It’s his character, such as it is.  The sin, in this case, is the sinner.” Or, on the more centrist side of GOP punditry, columnist David Brooks wrote: “Donald Trump is an affront to the basic standards of honesty, virtue and citizenship.  . . . He has already shredded the unspoken rules of political civility that make conversation possible.” 

Neo-conservative commentator Robert Kagan asks the key question that we must all ask ourselves before voting:  “is a man like Trump, with infinitely greater power in his hands [as president], likely to become more humble, more judicious, more generous, less vengeful than he is today, than he has been his whole life?  Does vast power un-corrupt?”

 

Trump and the Truth

No one has ever doubted that truth and politics are on rather bad terms with each other, and no one, as far as I know, has ever counted truthfulness among the political virtues.

            Hannah Arendt, “Truth and Politics” (1967)

I think the pundits are missing the essential point when they simply call Trump a liar.

First of all, it is hardly a disqualifying attribute. We all are liars. Social life is lubricated by lies (“Thank you, Aunt Martha, it’s a beautiful sweater, I love it.”). Most politicians twist and bend the truth to their purpose. Many have been accomplished liars and the accepted script for contemporary political life calls for pretty constant fib and spin, where the question is how far the politician can depart from the “whole truth” without getting into too much trouble (the Clintons being masters of this). And needless to say many 20th century presidents, including those generally considered a success (FDR, JFK, etc.), lied about all sorts of things.

So what is it about Trump and the truth that is different?

Narcissists rarely behave as if truth is some static objective reality. Instead, the typical narcissist regards as “true” (in the sense of “valid”) that which he says and thinks in the moment, that which makes him look good, and that which will get him what he wants. So for Trump, truth is not the way things are, but the way things ought to be given the overriding validity and importance of the narcissist’s narrative about himself (e.g., I’m the most successful person ever, I’m a winner, I alone can solve our problems). Truth is what it needs to be to get him what he wants. This deep conviction allows the narcissist to stray from the truth without conscience or shame, because a small thing like objective reality is nothing compared to the greater truth of the narcissist’s specialness and the overwhelming imperative to fulfill his desires. As a result, narcissists tend to be relaxed and brilliant liars.  

This typical narcissistic trait is confirmed by those closest to Trump. Tony Schwartz, the ghostwriter of Art of the Deal, observed that lying seemed to be “second nature” to Trump. He reported, “More than anyone else I have ever met, Trump has the ability to convince himself that whatever he is saying at any given moment is true, or sort of true, or at least ought to be true. . . . He has a complete lack of conscience about it.” When confronted with opposing facts, Schwartz said that Trump would double down, repeat himself, and grow belligerent. Schwartz observed this in the mid-1980s and nothing has changed. All of us have observed this pattern repeatedly over the course of the campaign. (See, for example, the transcript of Trump’s radio interview with conservative talk show host Hugh Hewitt, who helpfully suggested that perhaps his Obama-as-founder-of-ISIS remarks were metaphorical. “No, I meant he’s the founder of ISIS,” Trump replied.  “But . . . he’s trying to kill them,” the host pushed back. “I don’t care.  He was the founder.”)

This core narcissistic trait explains how Trump is able repeatedly to assert the manifestly untrue with enormous conviction and without any of the ticks or signs of embarrassment the rest of us exhibit when lying. It explains how he was able to drift into the dark waters of the birther crackpots and remain impervious to mountains of contrary evidence. The Economist called him “the leading exponent of ‘post-truth’ politics – a reliance on assertions that ‘feel true’ but have no basis in fact.”  

In the case of ordinary politicians in a democracy, the lie is a mainly defensive tool, used only occasionally to hide or deny conduct or circumstances that would be embarrassing or inexpedient. But without conscience or even an underlying preference for objective truth, Trump’s rhetoric drifts constantly between the real and the fictional. When Politico reporters fact-checked 4.6 hours of Trump speeches and press conferences, they found more than five dozen untrue statements, or one every five minutes.

So, crippled by a real disability in relation to truth telling, why has Trump prospered? The great chronicler of 20th century authoritarianism, Hannah Arendt, would not be surprised: “Since the liar is free to fashion his ‘facts’ to fit the profit and pleasure, or even the mere expectations, of his audience, the chances are that he will be more persuasive than the truth teller [emphasis added].” She also observed that in a democracy (i.e., before belief in lies is enforced by an authoritarian state), “deception without self-deception is well-nigh impossible” (i.e., for the liar to succeed, his audiences need to embrace the lies voluntarily). If you doubt the truth of Arendt’s observations, watch and listen to the New York Time’s video compilation of Trump rally audiences here.

So does Trump’s unique disdain for the value of objective truth matter? The answer is yes, it matters a lot. This is because respect for objective truth, and a broad social agreement that politicians and policies can and should be judged by how far they stray from it, is one of our prime defenses against authoritarianism (either of the right or of the left). Hannah Arendt pointed out that in the 20th century authoritarians were more hostile to facts that were inconsistent with their core narratives than they were to opposing political opinions. And one of the turning points on the road to authoritarianism was when objective reality (e.g., Obama’s birthplace or the greenhouse effect) was undermined to become a mere matter of political opinion. So yes, politicians have always lied. But a generalized disdain for objective reality in favor of the “greater truth” of the egomaniacal strongman is the core of what Tom Friedman called “the moral and civic cancer that Trump has [been] injecting into the body politic.”