There were many moments when I found
the imagery and words of the inauguration inspiring, and they were all the same
moment: the views of the sparse crowds. The Pence family walking by empty
grandstands. The aerial comparisons of the jam-packed mall in 2009 and the
deserted mall of 2017. The news that groups rented more buses to bring people
to the Saturday anti-Trump march—the Women’s March—than to the inauguration
itself. Nationwide more people will take to the streets in Washington, D.C. and
nationwide to protest the policies of the new administration than to celebrate
it.
These images warm my heart because
they prove that the United States is still a free country.
If we were living in a dictatorship,
the streets would have been crowded with cheering admirers. Censorship would
have suppressed the reporting of the comparison photographs and factoids. The
surveys that show Trump’s unprecedented unpopularity would have been rigged to
pretend the man is universally beloved.
The mass revulsion and renewed
activism motivated by the Electoral College’s decision to elect this
unqualified no-nothing gives me cause for optimism, although I can’t help but
wonder how many of the marchers voted for Jill Stein or Gary Johnson or stayed
home on Election Day.
Both a friend of mine and I noticed
that in most of the video streams and photographs (but not the one gracing the
front page of the New York Times),
the Trump family looks grim and unhappy. I shrugged it off as the typical awe
and trembling that the nouveau riche feel when confronted by century-old
traditions which fill them with the anxiety of those who believe in their
hearts that they are unworthy. They focus on playing their role to perfection,
which gives them a certain stiffness and seriousness of purpose. Contrast with
the smiles, kidding and other grace notes that have brightened the inaugural performance
of every other president in my lifetime. Of course all of them, even Jimmy
Carter and Ronald Reagan, were long-time insiders who participated in transfer
of power ceremonies before and knew how government worked.
My friend, a practicing
psychotherapist, saw an unhappy family in strife. For unhappy families,
milestones and public events often provide a battlefield for playing out their
problems. Mentally stable people, no matter how pissed off or disappointed they
are at their spouse, child or parent, will hide behind a public mask. We know
Hillary Clinton learned to do that during the 1990’s. But the more troubled a
family or an individual, the less they can control themselves in public
settings. Does family unhappiness explain the first family frowns? Before their
grand entrance, did Trumpty-Dumpty berate everyone with commands, chides and
insults?
As to Trump’s speech, I think MSNBC’s
Chris Matthews put it best. It was Hitlerian.
Not so much specifically Hitlerian,
but with many attributes of speeches given by fascists and totalitarians since
human history began, including:
· References to the people as an organic
unity that feels,
moves, suffers and exults together. “We share one heart, one home, and one
glorious destiny” sent a shudder down my spine because it fit right into a
speech by Mussolini or Hitler. Or the ancient Greek tyrant Pisistratus, for that matter.
· Explicit and implicit linking of the
people to the ruler,
as if the ruler is the people and the people are the ruler.
· The big lies, which in the inauguration speech focused
on the current state of the country. To the degree that there ever was
“American Carnage,” it has ended over the past 25 years, as crime rates,
shooting of police by others and terrorism have gone way down. The education
system is not flush with cash, as Trump averred. As the unemployment rate and
income equality suggest, the problem is not a lack of jobs, but the low wages
paid for most jobs nowadays. We have not, as Trump claims, depleted the
military.
· The cry to put the country first, unlike what the old regime did, at
least according to the incoming fascist dictator. “America First,” the rallying
cry of the virulently anti-Semitic American fascists in the 1930’s and 1940’s,
sounds no different from the Nazi proclamation to put “Deutschland űber alles.”
· The evocation of a special destiny for
the country, the idea
that the country is better, purer, more advanced. Both times that Trump
declared American exceptionalism he implied or stated that it’s god’s will: the
first time when he called us a “righteous public,” and more explicitly when he
said that “we will be protected by God.”
· Glorification of a past that never
existed. The past to
which Trump refers is industrialized America during the twentieth century. Yes,
we were an industrial nation, but always because we exported. As Sven Beckert’s
magisterial Empire of Cotton
demonstrates, the United States built its economy on trade from its very
origins. Our manufacturing flourished in the 20th century because we were able
to sell our goods everywhere. The other major inaccuracy in discussing our past
was the idea that everything was wonderful back then—it was only wonderful for
workers once they unionized, and then only for whites.
Embedded in the fascist rhetoric that
both tore down the current state of the country and glorified the national
ideal, were a mere three policy recommendations. Let’s pretend that we’re
living in a logical world and consider those three initiatives the cornerstones
of the Trump Administration:
1. Protectionist trade policies
2. War against “radical Islamic
terrorism”
3. Investment in rebuilding our infrastructure
of roads, bridges and highways
That’s a paltry program compared to
what Regan, both Bushes, Clinton and Obama laid out in their inaugurations.
Paltry, and mostly wrong-headed. Protectionist trade policies have been a
contributing factor to most depressions in American history, as trade wars
close off markets. Singling out Islam suggests a religious war, not a fight
against terrorism. Rebuilding our infrastructure is something I and other
left-wingers have been advocating for at least a decade. Too bad Trump didn’t
say that he would pay for it by raising taxes on the wealthy, nor note that a
national building program gives the country the opportunity to create the
infrastructure needed for a post-fossil fuel economy.
But unlike other inaugural addresses, Trump’s
remarks seemed less about describing a program and more about reminding people
how lousy their lives were and how great they will be now that the big man is
in charge.
While Trump channeled fascism in his
inaugural address, his Administration got started with two symbolic acts that
reminded me of Hemingway’s dictum not to confuse motion with action. Trump
signed an executive order that allows agencies to dismantle those parts of the
Affordable Care Act it is legal for the president to dismantle. No specifics,
no commands, no timetables. Thus no real action.
All references to global warming
suddenly disappeared from the White House website the moment the transfer of power
occurred. But again, the act was symbolic at best, since the White House did
not countermand any single regulation or rule.
I recently wondered if the Trump
Administration would engage only in symbolic acts of branding and
rebranding. I speculated that the kind
of gridlock that this approach to running the country both reflects and
initiates would be the best-case scenario for a Trump Administration. So far,
so good.
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