Those wondering
Last month, LePage, offended because he believed that state Rep. Drew Gattine had called him a racist, left a tirade in the form of a voicemail for Gattine in which the second-term Republican governor twice used a vile epithet to describe him. In a later interview, LePage said he would like to fight a duel with Gattine and shoot him between the eyes, a threat that the governor later explained was meant metaphorically.
The precipitating event of this outburst occurred when LePage blamed black and Hispanic drug dealers for fueling Maine’s heroin addiction crisis, remarks that Gattine depicted as racially charged. LePage was not about to back down. At a later news conference, LePage compared the drug crisis to war, when “you shoot at the enemy” — and “the enemy right now, the overwhelming majority of people coming in, are people of color, or people of Hispanic origin.”
The 67-year-old governor has a long history of making incendiary remarks, including saying earlier this year that out-of-state drug dealers would come to Maine and “impregnate a young white girl” before leaving; urging that the state use the guillotine to execute drug traffickers; and comparing the Internal Revenue Service to the Gestapo. LePage, a Tea Party favorite, has often been described as blunt and outspoken, but some members of his own party are now questioning his mental stability. In the wake of his latest outburst, state Sen. Amy Volk, a Republican, wrote on Facebook that, “I share your deep concerns regarding the governor’s behavior. What I do not know is whether it is due to substance abuse, mental illness or just ignorance.” To which the governor replied: “I’m not an alcoholic, and I’m not a drug addict, and I don’t have mental issues. What I have is backbone.”
Whatever the reason, there is an element of tragedy to this tale, because as a rags-to-riches story, few in public life can compare to LePage’s. The oldest son of 18 children born into a dysfunctional and impoverished family, he was beaten repeatedly by his father, an alcoholic, according to his biography in the Almanac of American Politics. LePage ran away from home at age 11 and spent a couple of years living on the mean streets of Lewiston. Eventually adopted, he worked at menial labor until an unlikely friendship led him to college, a successful business career and then into politics.
In this, Trump, who grew up in privilege, could hardly be more different. But the two are soul mates and mutual admirers. LePage endorsed Trump back in February, and is hoping for a job in a Trump administration. “I was Donald Trump before Donald Trump became popular,” he told a radio host. “So I think I should support him because we’re one of the same cloth.” For Trump’s part, he says that LePage is “a great guy — respected by a lot of people.”
What they also share is the lack of an internal governor and the absence of any appreciation that the words chosen by a public figure matter in a way that those of a private citizen never can. First, while plainspokenness is undoubtedly a virtue in public life, candor need not, and cannot, be expressed in the form of vulgar insults or by scapegoating individuals or groups of people. To do so suggests that the speaker is unable to formulate in his own mind a thought more nuanced and sophisticated than a mere epithet. Moreover, the hair-trigger use of vile denunciations betrays a volatility that is the antithesis of the cool deliberation that political office so often demands. It also abolishes a vital distinction between the private and public spheres of life. Public figures are role models not only for good but for ill. When they speak in public as Trump and LePage do, they invite all America to join them in extinguishing the veneer of civility that, however thin, permits us to get along with each other, however imperfectly.