Far from it. Should Trump take Ohio and Florida—or, alternatively, win Florida and do well in North Carolina, Missouri, and Illinois—much of the party establishment will claw at his bandwagon with the same craven self-interest that allowed Trump to rise. For those who have countenanced the bankrupt GOP agenda of the last several years, fighting for a high chair at Trump’s table may feel like nothing new.
One can imagine their eyes growing big at the thought of their erstwhile bête noire as the instrument of their deliverance. A tempting vision may appear at the end of their very dark tunnel: that the fevers sweeping the land will place Trump in the White House, putting the party, and themselves, back in business.126 Leaving the rest of us, as ever, to live with the consequences.
Which returns us to the most essential and disturbing question of all: whether Trump’s megalomania matches our societal moment, and what that means for America’s future.
Megalomania is defined as a “psychopathological condition characterized by fantasies of power, relevance, and omnipotence, and by inflated self-esteem.” Among its hallmarks are extreme grandiosity, indifference to truth, and an inability to accept criticism or to see other people except as agents of one’s own needs, fueling the reflex to devalue and disparage all those who fail to please.127
Sound familiar? Then consider that, when linked to power, these attributes are “likely to lead to miscalculation as a byproduct of the subject’s conceit.”
Lest this seem far-fetched, consider the startling degree to which Trump is unable to separate self-celebration from his pursuit of the world’s most powerful office.
In speech after speech, his principal subject is Donald Trump. He brags about his penile size. He touts his skyscrapers. He trumpets his golf game. A post-election press conference becomes an infomercial for Trump water, Trump wine, and (bogus) Trump steaks. All meaning evaporates in self-referential babble.
Granted, some of this has the buffoonish character of a comic opera satrap, parading his imaginary grandeur before a crowd of peasants in which he sees only himself. But imagine George W. Bush using a press conference to exhibit his paintings; or Barack Obama showing videos of his golf swing in the East Room. One can’t, and for the simplest of reasons—a marginally normal president can separate the trivia of his life from the gravity of his office.128
Not Trump. And when it comes to issues, any trace of comedy evanesces. His ignorance of policy—foreign or domestic—is as comprehensive as it is stunning. He knows nothing and, even worse, cares to learn nothing. In the cul-de-sac of his mind, his own greatness is enough.
So deep is Trump’s romance of self that his solution to every problem is, quite simply, “Trump.” Insulated by the impermeable solipsism of his inner landscape, he issues prescriptions with the preposterous insouciance of a three-year-old emperor. ISIS? He will simply take their oil. Mexico? He will make them pay for his wall. Homeland security? He will bar all Muslims from abroad and spy on those at home. China? He will bully them with tariffs until they send back all our jobs. Terrorists? He will waterboard their leaders and execute their families. He is, after all, Trump.
So why didn’t Bush or Obama think of all this? Simple again, Trump tells us—they’re “incompetent.” Mired in fantasies of his own omnipotence, he never considers the possibility that they’re sane.
Equally damning is his mercurial relationship with anyone but himself. His only prism for assessing others is whether they “treat me fairly.” Those who criticize or oppose him are assaulted with insults. Those perceived to favor him—like that noted character witness, Vladimir Putin—develop qualities of leadership worthy of his notice. Because other people are not real to him as separate human beings, he shifts them from one category to another depending on whether they feed, or offend, his all-encompassing sense of self. Imagine, then, a political and geopolitical world where America’s course is defined by “Trump.”129
Funny, no. Dangerous for sure. Trump rarely speaks without reducing our reserves of empathy or understanding. Faced with an America that is an extension of Trump’s psychodrama, the world will stop laughing soon enough.
Yet millions of Americans have cast him as our one-man-fits-all solution to all that besets us. So it is imperative to ask whether our social and economic flux is explanation enough.
To be sure, the anxieties besetting the middle and working classes are corrosive. Far too many have been battered by recession, ruined by the home mortgage crisis, displaced by globalization, and bypassed by the information economy. The GOP has offered them nothing but empty political theatrics and strident denunciations of Washington, deepening their belief that the financial elites have appropriated our politics for their own selfish ends.
As their sense of displacement and impotence swells, so does their fury—including at a growing social and racial diversity personified, for many, by Barack Obama. This is a breeding ground for magical thinking, scapegoating minorities, and false solutions promised by self-serving demagogues. In short, it is made for men like Donald Trump.
But Trump’s rise as our tangerine would-be Caudillo is abetted by another factor—a growing strain of authoritarianism among the Republican electorate. Thus Trump’s megalomaniacal prescriptions fuse neatly with a widespread craving for stern and simple answers.130
The GOP has long been seen as the “daddy party”—hierarchical, proscriptive, and committed to order. But lately social science has fleshed out this perception.
A doctoral student at UMass Amherst, Matthew MacWilliams, asked a survey group of Republicans which traits were most important in child rearing: independence or respect for elders; curiosity or good manners; self-reliance or obedience; being considerate or being well behaved. His purpose was to identify those inclined to favor hierarchy and direction from the top, characterized by psychologists as “authoritarians.”
The results were striking. Half the Republicans who chose the second—or authoritarian—answer to each question supported Donald Trump. Recent articles by George Lakoff and Amanda Taub amplify these findings. The short is that Trump’s persona meets a deep need for authority that is particularly strong among evangelicals, as well as the less religious who feel economically and socially threatened. And, unsurprisingly, authoritarianism tends to thrive among white Republicans of limited education.
These folks respond to promises of direct action to impose clear and simple solutions. This is precisely what Trump does—and, given his pathology, all he can do.131 And his disdain for “political correctness” in stereotyping minorities gives anxious authoritarians the empowering sense that their enemies will be repelled and their security restored—a need reinforced by the widespread fear of terrorism. Amanda Taub puts it this way:
Trump’s specific policies are not the thing that most sets him apart. . . . Rather, it’s his rhetoric and style. The way he reduces everything to black-and-white extremes of strong versus weak, greatest versus worst. His simple, direct promises that he can solve problems that other politicians are too weak to manage.
And, perhaps most importantly, his willingness to flout all the conventions of civilized discourse when it comes to the minority groups that authoritarians find so threatening.
Inevitably, this must metastasize into a mass degradation of character and spirit. Hence the fruits of Trump’s sulfurous penchant for using protesters as props, sinking to a level unseen in America since George Wallace in 1968.
From the safety of his podium, no doubt comforted by the memory of his multiple draft deferments, Trump throws verbal matches on gasoline: “I’d like to punch you in the face”; “Knock the crap out of him, will you? I promise to pay your legal fees”; “Get a job”; “Go home to your mother.” Again and again, he evokes the supposedly good old days where such people were treated with a rough efficiency that would put them in their place.132
To be sure, many of Trump’s supporters feel uneasy about this; granted, as well, that the protesters are using Trump rallies as a megaphon
e to reach a larger audience. But Trump and his message have created a uniquely volatile environment that seethes with anger and racial animus. Reporters, too, are verbally abused, often by name; recently, a journalist was roughed up, allegedly by Trump’s campaign manager. Lately the confrontations with protesters have turned violent—as when an old white man sucker punched a black kid who he said “wasn’t acting like an American,” proudly adding that “next time, we may have to kill him.” When questioned about this, Trump’s evasive evocation of the righteous anger of his followers confirmed him not merely as a demagogue, but as a moral cipher.
A dangerous one. For it is increasingly clear that, as a political leader, he has little sense of responsibility to anything or anyone beyond his needs of the moment. Over the weekend, he exploited his decision to cancel a rally in Chicago to further stoke the distemper of his crowds, attacking protesters in ever more vehement terms; suggesting that he might pay the legal fees for the racist sucker puncher; falsely claiming that protesters had been sent by Bernie Sanders; and threatening to “retaliate” by instructing his followers to disrupt Sanders rallies. Far from tamping down the potential for violence, he now escalates the risk to feed his hunger for votes and, even more disturbing, for the dominance and attention he cannot live without.
Yet this man is the probable Republican nominee for president of the United States.
In one sense, Trump is uniquely disturbing, if only because his character disorder is so obvious. But megalomania did not make The Donald great—our politics did.
For far too long, our political system has been foundering in the morass of polarization, rhetorical dishonesty, narrow partisanship by both parties, and cynical exploitation of our deepest problems. This intractable dysfunction was cemented by a Republican Party that appropriated the fear and anger of the most vulnerable to serve the most privileged, offered empty gestures and phony solutions that betrayed its contempt for those they purported to serve, and wallowed in an extremism that blamed Washington, DC, for every problem—until the only apparent “solution” was to shut down the government and blow the place up.
The inevitable result was a profound alienation and distrust among the GOP electorate, the craving for a strongman who will put things right. Trump’s megalomania simply fills the need his party has created.
So we can take no comfort in believing that Trump is singular. Ted Cruz is right behind him. And the next demagogue, and the next, unless and until the GOP decides that the only solution to our problems is to confront them, challenging Democrats to an honest debate about how best to relieve the anxiety of our people and achieve the common good. Which means that the electorate—Republicans of conscience most of all—must shun this heartless joke of a party until it does or, failing that, meets the extinction it deserves.133
An Open Letter to My Republican Friends
MARCH 22, 2016
Dear Cherished Friends,
The Republican Party has become intellectually and morally bankrupt, a mockery of its traditions—corrosive to our society, our civility, and our capacity to govern. This is not a temporary condition; it is woven into the fabric of the party. Unless and until it reverses course, you should take your votes and money and walk away.
I never thought I would presume to say this.134 I respect that your allegiance is rooted in considered beliefs and years of loyalty that, at the beginning of my political journey, I shared. I certainly don’t think I have all the answers, and I enjoy exploring our differences. You inform me, correct me, and, most generously, tolerate me. You care, as do I, about the world we are leaving the next generations.
Our friendship far transcends our political beliefs. We share each other’s celebrations, enjoy each other’s successes. I value your advice. You’ve helped me through hard times, and some of you have helped my kids as well. You are loyal friends, generous members of the community, and deeply committed parents and grandparents. My world, and the larger world, would be a grayer place without you.
Knowing you as I do, I know that you are troubled by the direction of your party. Little wonder—you are mainstream Republicans whose mainstream has run dry. But I also accept that, for you, the Democrats may not be the answer—that you see them as feckless devotees of identity politics and too much government, don’t trust Hillary Clinton, and believe that Bernie Sanders would drive us off the fiscal cliff. I’m not writing to quarrel with these beliefs. Nor do I suggest that unchallenged dominance by the Democrats would serve the country well.
But to compare the two parties at this time in our history is to indulge in false equivalency. For rationalizing the GOP’s pathology by responding with a partisan tit-for-tat is not adequate to the circumstances. The sins you perceive in Democrats are the usual ones—misguided policies, ill-chosen means for dubious ends, and the normal complement of rhetorical dishonesty and political squalor. However mistaken you may find Clinton and Sanders on the issues, their debate is addressed to the world as it exists and therefore open to a sensible critique. The squalor to which the GOP has sunk, an alternate reality rooted in anger and mendacity, transcends mere differences in policy, threatening the country with profound, perhaps irreparable, damage.
This is not simply about Donald Trump. For Trump is not the result of forces that will come and go, but of a deterioration within the Republican Party that has been accelerating for years. The GOP has become a political mutation, stirred from dysfunction, demagoguery, myopia, and myth, nurtured in that fever swamp where lies and hysteria kill off reason. Nothing better will arise until you help drive a stake through its heart.
One of our ongoing disagreements has been about the nature of the party, and where you fit within it. With respect to GOP extremism in areas like climate denial, gun violence, or reproductive rights, you often say, “but I’m not like that.” But the party is. You may be moderate in your views; the party is not. Even candidates with temperate instincts must go along to survive, or meet the fate of Jon Huntsman, mocked for publicly accepting climate change and evolution.135
Long since, the GOP killed its moderates and trashed everything they stood for. It has replaced respected figures like William Cohen, Richard Lugar, and John Danforth with rigid ideologues like Ted Cruz and Mike Lee, and social illiterates like James Inhofe, Jeff Sessions, and Richard Shelby. On issue after issue, they have embraced an orthodoxy rooted in extremism and divorced from fact. These dynamics forced Mitt Romney to win the nomination by running so far right that he could never get back. And what was the lesson learned among the party base? That Romney was not nearly extreme enough.
In short, the Republican Party no longer belongs to you, or you in it. The year 2016 has proven the point.
I saw this coming not because I’m uniquely prescient, but because I began writing reality-based political novels twenty years ago. I hung around with party pros, consultants, lobbyists, donors, pollsters, officeholders, and political partisans, some of whom became my friends. Bit by bit, I saw the party sell out its agenda for short-term gains with disastrous long-term consequences. Eventually the GOP’s train wreck became inevitable—no longer a matter of if, but when.
How did this happen? Start with the relationship between the party establishment and its base. Your family, and mine, occupy a privileged slice of American society. Not so for most members of the GOP electorate. They are folks that few of us know very well: evangelicals; modestly educated whites threatened by economic dislocation; and people whose distrust of government partakes of paranoia.
Economically, they are not natural allies of the party of business or its wealthy donors, who tend to focus on tax cuts and free-market principles irrelevant to the base. So in exchange for pursuing its economic agenda, the party offered evangelicals a faith-based vision of America: barring abortion, banning same-sex marriage, and giving government preferences to fundamentalist religious institutions. Why should business people care, the reasoning went, when we can rally these voters with promises that, however illusory,
cost us nothing?
But as “promise keepers,” the party failed its fundamentalist flock. Abortion remains legal; same-sex marriage became a right; the Constitution prevents government from enshrining religious preferences as law. So there was nothing to stop evangelicals from noticing that their own lives were often harder and less secure.
Ditto other members of the middle and working classes. The real causes of their woes are globalization, the Great Recession, the housing crisis, and an information society that marginalizes blue-collar jobs.136 But the GOP never addressed these complex forces with any kind of candor—let alone proposed solutions like job retraining and educational access for their kids.
Barren of ideas for helping its base voters, it resorted to blame shifting and scapegoating—of government, Obama, illegal immigrants, and Muslims and other minorities. Instead of looking forward, the party indulged a primal nostalgia for simpler times, an imaginary white folks’ paradise that can never be resurrected.
Some of this was shameful. The GOP countenanced a race-based birtherism directed at our first black president, giving Donald Trump a political foothold. It nurtured xenophobia that targeted all Muslims at home and abroad. It pretended that illegal immigrants were poisoning our economy. It aped the mindless masters of talk radio and trafficked in conspiracy theories. It embraced Tea Party dead-enders who claimed that shutting down the government, at whatever cost, was the only answer.
In Congress, the party resolved to deny Obama reelection by grinding the legislative process to a halt, then blaming him for gridlock as if its tactics played no role. Political polarization polluted foreign policy—as when all three hundred Republicans in Congress turned the Iran deal into a political wedge issue, shunning the careful consideration it deserved in favor of shrill and simpleminded denunciations. In the world of the GOP, our many and complex problems had but one misbegotten cause: that Barack Obama was president.
Fever Swamp: A Journey Through the Strange Neverland of the 2016 Presidential Race Page 12