Iconic American journalist Dorothy Thompson was among the many observers who drastically underestimated Adolf Hitler in the 1920s and early ’30s. In 1931 she wrote, “When I walked into Adolph Hitler’s salon . . . I was convinced that I was meeting the future dictator of Germany.” “In something like 50 seconds I was quite sure that I was not. It took just about that time to measure the startling insignificance of this man who has set the world agog.”
Four years later she had learned better and wrote, “No people ever recognize their dictator in advance. He never stands for election on the platform of dictatorship. He always represents himself as the instrument of the Incorporated National Will. When our dictator turns up you can depend on it that he will be one of the boys, and he will stand for everything traditionally American.”
Donald Trump has represented himself as the instrument of the national will. He and only he can Make America Great Again. He is one of the boys and he purports to stand for everything traditionally American.
Take a deep breath. I am not equating Trump and Hitler. Hitler’s mental illness was far more expansive than Trump’s garden-variety narcissism. But the parallels are striking and instructive. Trump encourages violence with a wink and nod. Trump unites his base through nativism and bigotry. Trump speaks the crude language of the “boys.” Like Hitler, Trump has an insatiable need for adoration and feeds off the frenzied responses his rallies draw. He is accountable to no one.
Perhaps the most dangerous aspect of this moment is the broad normalization of abnormality.
Trump’s adolescent, simplistic tweets have become fodder for constant coverage in the mainstream media. For example, take the recent on-again, off-again Republican attempt to dismantle the independent ethics office in the House. Trump tweeted a trite rejoinder that did not even address the central issue. Reporters and columnists treated this as an enigmatic and symbolic message of great import through which Trump turned the entire Congress in another direction. I suspect he punched out the message between Cheetos, passing his lonely hours by commenting on anything that flickered on the television screen.
He is like the character Chauncey Gardiner played by Peter Sellers in the brilliant film Being There. Gardiner was in fact Chance the Gardener, who was an aimless, confused little man who donned the fine clothing of his wealthy deceased employer and was thereby considered profoundly wise. Like Chauncey, Trump is credible only by virtue of the thread count of his clothes.
The other inclination to normalize is in the post-mortem of the election. Analysts, pollsters and pundits twist themselves into pretzels of rationalization to empathize with the mostly white, mostly rural voters who proved the decisive demographic. They are portrayed sympathetically, by and large, as God-fearing, hard-working Americans, frustrated with urban elites, who are unemployed or underemployed. The post-election narrative is that they are basically fine folks who overlooked Trump’s excesses because he spoke to their hearts.
It is fair to have empathy for the many Americans who have stagnant wages and shrunken dreams. But I don’t buy the argument that working class populism was the fuel that burned hot at Trump rallies or at ballot boxes in the “heartland.” The greater energy came from resentment of civil rights and angry insistence that All Lives Matter, even though no one suggested they didn’t. The heat came from anti-feminism and homophobia. The voters turned out because they want to Take America Back, the more honest sentiment behind Make America Great Again.
It’s like Vermont during the civil union debate. Take Back Vermont! From whom exactly?
When we stipulate that this election was just about working class frustration, we are missing a dangerous truth. Trump may not intend genocide or eugenics, but his dog whistles to nationalism, anti-immigration and religious bigotry are a very troubling nod to the same ugly impulses.
If we are to have empathy for our fellow Americans, we might start with the millions mired in abject poverty, mothers of dead boys of color, families of millions of incarcerated black men, women who work longer hours for lower wages, poor young women who have no health care and will soon lose reproductive rights, gay and transgendered teenagers who are humiliated by bullies empowered by vicious right-wing rhetoric, and Muslims who fear walking in their own neighborhoods.
The deepest irony is that many of the most vigorous Trump supporters believe he cares about them or will do anything for them at all. Many of the ordinary folks who turned out to Make America Great Again are in for a rude awakening. They may be sincere, decent, well-intended citizens. But to think that the garish, arrogant, crude and self-centered president-elect cares about them is — to borrow a Trump trademark — just sad.
To Trump, they are just clients for his exploitive casinos, employees who must stand when he walks in the room, customers for his fraudulent university or viewers for his tawdry reality show, which he’s bringing from prime time to the White House.
Steve Nelson lives in Sharon and New York City, where he is the head of the Calhoun School, a private school. He can be reached at steve.nelson@calhoun.org.