Tomgram: Andrew Bacevich, Donald Trump and the Remaking of America
By Andrew Bacevich
Posted on March 1, 2016, Printed on March 1, 2016
http://www.tomdispatch.com/blog/176109/ ;
As a child of the 1980s, certain touchstones, figures, and moments are
seared into my brain: Pac-Man and Michael Jackson, the personal computer,
Yuppies, crack hysteria, AIDs, the Challenger disaster, and in the waning
days of the decade, the fall of the Berlin Wall. Two newsmakers also stand
out in my mind. From my local area, there was Mafioso John Gotti, the
Teflon Don, who always seemed to be mugging for the camera and beating the
rap. On the national front, there was Ronald Reagan, the Teflon president,
who slipped and slid (and maybe slept) through one scandal after another:
the Iran-Contra Affair, influence-peddling at the Department of Housing and
Urban Development , the Ill Wind Pentagon fraud scandal, Sewergate at the
Environmental Protection Agency, the Inslaw Affair, and so on.
Something else stands out from those years, a commercial that always seemed
to be playing on TV, perhaps even between stories about the two Teflon
newsmakers. It began with a team of horses charging through the night
pulling a carriage. As the coach comes to a stop, a clone of Henry VIII
steps forth, his eyes wide, his mouth open, awed by the utter 1980s opulence
arrayed before him. Youre the king, youre the king of the castle, sings
a woman with a cruise-ship-quality voice. Trump Castle, hotel and casino,
and baby, baby, do we know how to treat a king! What follows is a barrage
of a montage: a tux-clad maître d', Vegas-style showgirls, a cork popping
from a bottle of champagne. And then Henrys back. Now this is a castle!
he booms, his arms lifted to the sky as the camera pans to take in the gaudy
elegance of Donald Trumps Atlantic City pleasure palace.
For decades, that commercial, or at least the horrible jingle sung by
Trumps sequin-clad chanteuse, never quite left my brain. Still, who could
have imagined that the man who sired that ad would emerge as a serious
presidential candidate of the party of the Teflon president and prove to be,
at least to this moment, more resilient, more Teflonesque, no matter what he
says or does, than Dutch Reagan and John Gotti combined? What started as a
joke has become a disaster-in-the-making and the wink offered by a
tiara-wearing cocktail waitress at that ads end has taken on a new
resonance for me.
Trumps Castle was rebranded out of existence in the 1990s and The Donalds
Atlantic City empire -- the Trump Taj Mahal (now owned by activist investor
Carl Icahn), Trump Plaza, and the Trump Marina (the old Castle) -- crumbled.
But Trump himself has somehow emerged stronger than ever. The man who sought
to lure all aspiring monarchs to A.C. (welcome to a kingdom where
everybodys treated like a king) has whipped up a heady mix of xenophobia,
political bromides, and so-light-it-floats policy proposals into a movement.
Call it Trumpism, or maybe even Trumpismo. And should he ride this populist
wave of fear and loathing to the Republican nomination for president, the
American political system will never be the same -- so says TomDispatch
regular Andrew Bacevich whose monumental new book, Americas War for the
Greater Middle East, is due out this April. If the Teflon doesnt wear thin
soon, you might want to start preparing yourself for this once-improbable
candidate to become, as Bacevich suggests, Americas very own Juan Perón,
though he might prefer to be called the king of the castle. Nick Turse
Dont Cry for Me, America
What Trumpism Means for Democracy
By Andrew J. Bacevich
Whether or not Donald Trump ultimately succeeds in winning the White House,
historians are likely to rank him as the most consequential presidential
candidate of at least the past half-century. He has already transformed the
tone and temper of American political life. If he becomes the Republican
nominee, he will demolish its structural underpinnings as well. Should he
prevail in November, his election will alter its very fabric in ways likely
to prove irreversible. Whether Trump ever delivers on his promise to "Make
America Great Again," he is already transforming American democratic
practice.
Trump takes obvious delight in thumbing his nose at the political
establishment and flouting its norms. Yet to classify him as an
anti-establishment figure is to miss his true significance. He is to
American politics what Martin Shkreli is to Big Pharma. Each represents in
exaggerated form the distilled essence of a much larger and more disturbing
reality. Each embodies the smirking cynicism that has become one of the
defining characteristics of our age. Each in his own way is a sign of the
times.
In contrast to the universally reviled Shkreli, however, Trump has
cultivated a mass following that appears impervious to his missteps,
miscues, and misstatements. What Trump actually believes -- whether he
believes in anything apart from big, splashy self-display -- is largely
unknown and probably beside the point. Trumpism is not a program or an
ideology. It is an attitude or pose that feeds off of, and then reinforces,
widespread anger and alienation.
The pose works because the anger -- always present in certain quarters of
the American electorate but especially acute today -- is genuine. By acting
the part of impish bad boy and consciously trampling on the canons of
political correctness, Trump validates that anger. The more outrageous his
behavior, the more secure his position at the very center of the political
circus. Wondering what he will do next, we cant take our eyes off him. And
to quote Marco Rubio in a different context, Trump knows exactly what he is
doing.
Targeting Obama's Presidency
There is a form of genius at work here. To an extent unmatched by any other
figure in American public life, Trump understands that previous distinctions
between the ostensibly serious and the self-evidently frivolous have
collapsed. Back in 1968, then running for president, Richard Nixon, of all
people, got things rolling when he appeared on Laugh-In and uttered the
immortal words, Sock it to me? But no one has come close to Trump in
grasping the implications of all this: in contemporary America, celebrity
confers authority. Mere credentials or qualifications have become an
afterthought. How else to explain the host of a "reality" TV show instantly
qualifying as a serious contender for high office?
For further evidence of Trumps genius, consider the skill with which he
plays the media, especially celebrity journalists who themselves specialize
in smirking cynicism. Rather than pretending to take them seriously, he
unmasks their preening narcissism, which mirrors his own. He refuses to
acknowledge their self-assigned role as gatekeepers empowered to police the
boundaries of permissible discourse. As the embodiment of breaking news,
he continues to stretch those boundaries beyond recognition.
In that regard, the spectacle of televised debates has offered Trump an
ideal platform for promoting his cult of personality. Once a solemn, almost
soporific forum for civic education -- remember Kennedy and Nixon in 1960?
-- presidential debates now provide occasions for trading insults, provoking
gaffes, engaging in verbal food fights, and marketing magical solutions to
problems ranging from war to border security that are immune to magic. For
all of that we have Trump chiefly to thank.
Trumps success as a campaigner schools his opponents, of course. In a
shrinking Republican field, survival requires mimicking his antics. In that
regard, Ted Cruz rates as Trumps star pupil. Cruz is to Trump what Lady
Gaga was to Amy Winehouse -- a less freewheeling, more scripted, and
arguably more calculating version of the original.
Yet if not a clone, Cruz taps into the same vein of pissed-off,
give-me-my-country-back rage that Trump himself has so adeptly exploited.
Like the master himself, Cruz has demonstrated a notable aptitude for
expressing disagreement through denigration and for extravagant, crackpot
promises. For his part, Marco Rubio, the only other Republican still
seriously in the running, lags not far behind. When it comes to swagger and
grandiosity, nothing beats a vow to create a New American Century, thereby
resurrecting a mythic past when all was ostensibly right with the world.
On two points alone do these several Republicans see eye-to-eye. The first
relates to domestic policy, the second to Americas role in the world.
On point one: with absolute unanimity, Trump, Cruz, and Rubio ascribe to
Barack Obama any and all problems besetting the nation. To take their
critique at face value, the country was doing swimmingly well back in 2009
when Obama took office. Today, its FUBAR, due entirely to Obamas malign
actions.
Wielding comparable authority, however, a Republican president can, they
claim, dismantle Obamas poisonous legacy and restore all that he has
destroyed. From day one, on issues ranging from health care to immigration
to the environment, the Republican candidates vow to do exactly this. With
the stroke of a pen and the wave of a hand, it will be a breeze.
On point two: ditto. Aided and abetted by Hillary Clinton, Obama has made a
complete hash of things abroad. Here the list of Republican grievances is
especially long. Thanks to Obama, Russia threatens Europe; North Korea is
misbehaving; China is flexing its military muscles; ISIS is on the march;
Iran has a clear path to acquiring nuclear weapons; and perhaps most
distressingly of all, Benjamin Netanyahu, the prime minister of Israel, is
unhappy with U.S. policy.
Here, too, the Republican candidates see eye-to-eye and have solutions
readily at hand. In one way or another, all of those solutions relate to
military power. Trump, Cruz, and Rubio are unabashed militarists. (So, too,
is Hillary Clinton, but thats an issue deserving an essay of its own).
Their gripe with Obama is that he never put American military might fully to
work, a defect they vow to amend. A Republican commander-in-chief, be it
Trump, Cruz, or Rubio, wont take any guff from Moscow or Pyongyang or
Beijing or Tehran. He will eradicate "radical Islamic terrorism," put the
mullahs back in their box, torture a bunch of terrorists in the bargain, and
give Bibi whatever he wants.
In addition to offering Obama a sort of backhanded tribute -- so much damage
wrought by just one man in so little time -- the Republican critique
reinforces reigning theories of presidential omnipotence. Just as an
incompetent or ill-motivated chief executive can screw everything up, so,
too, can a bold and skillful one set things right.
Juan and Evita in Washington?
The ratio between promises made and promises fulfilled by every president in
recent memory -- Obama included -- should have demolished such theories long
ago. But no such luck. Fantasies of a great president saving the day still
persist, something that Trump, Cruz, and Rubio have all made the centerpiece
of their campaigns. Elect me, each asserts. I alone can save the Republic.
Here, however, Trump may enjoy an edge over his competitors, including
Hillary Clinton and Bernie Sanders. With Americans assigning to their
presidents the attributes of demigods -- each and every one memorialized
before death with a library-shrine -- who better to fill the role than an
egomaniacal tycoon who already acts the part? The times call for strong
leadership. Who better to provide it than a wheeler-dealer unbothered by the
rules that constrain mere mortals?
What then lies ahead?
If Trump secures the Republican nomination, now an increasingly imaginable
prospect, the party is likely to implode. Whatever rump organization
survives will have forfeited any remaining claim to represent principled
conservatism.
None of this will matter to Trump, however. He is no conservative and
Trumpism requires no party. Even if some new institutional alternative to
conventional liberalism eventually emerges, the two-party system that has
long defined the landscape of American politics will be gone for good.
Should Trump or a Trump mini-me ultimately succeed in capturing the
presidency, a possibility that can no longer be dismissed out of hand, the
effects will be even more profound. In all but name, the United States will
cease to be a constitutional republic. Once President Trump inevitably
declares that he alone expresses the popular will, Americans will find that
they have traded the rule of law for a version of caudillismo. Trumps
Washington could come to resemble Buenos Aires in the days of Juan Perón,
with Melania a suitably glamorous stand-in for Evita, and plebiscites
suitably glamorous stand-ins for elections.
That a considerable number of Americans appear to welcome this prospect may
seem inexplicable. Yet reason enough exists for their disenchantment.
American democracy has been decaying for decades. The people know that they
are no longer truly sovereign. They know that the apparatus of power, both
public and private, does not promote the common good, itself a concept that
has become obsolete. They have had their fill of irresponsibility, lack of
accountability, incompetence, and the bad times that increasingly seem to go
with them.
So in disturbingly large numbers they have turned to Trump to strip bare the
body politic, willing to take a chance that he will come up with something
that, if not better, will at least be more entertaining. As Argentines and
others who have trusted their fate to demagogues have discovered, such
expectations are doomed to disappointment.
In the meantime, just imagine how the Donald J. Trump Presidential Library,
no doubt taller than all the others put together, might one day glitter and
glisten -- perhaps with casino attached.
Andrew J. Bacevich, a TomDispatch regular, is professor emeritus of history
and international relations at Boston University. He is the author of the
new book Americas War for the Greater Middle East: A Military History
(Random House, April 2016).
Follow TomDispatch on Twitter and join us on Facebook. Check out the newest
Dispatch Book, Nick Turses Tomorrows Battlefield: U.S. Proxy Wars and
Secret Ops in Africa, and Tom Engelhardt's latest book, Shadow Government:
Surveillance, Secret Wars, and a Global Security State in a
Single-Superpower World.
Copyright 2016 Andrew Bacevich
© 2016 TomDispatch. All rights reserved.
View this story online at: http://www.tomdispatch.com/blog/176109
Tomgram: Andrew Bacevich, Donald Trump and the Remaking of America
By Andrew Bacevich
Posted on March 1, 2016, Printed on March 1, 2016
http://www.tomdispatch.com/blog/176109/ ;
As a child of the 1980s, certain touchstones, figures, and moments are
seared into my brain: Pac-Man and Michael Jackson, the personal computer,
Yuppies, crack hysteria, AIDs, the Challenger disaster, and in the waning
days of the decade, the fall of the Berlin Wall. Two newsmakers also stand
out in my mind. From my local area, there was Mafioso John Gotti, the
Teflon Don, who always seemed to be mugging for the camera and beating the
rap. On the national front, there was Ronald Reagan, the Teflon president,
who slipped and slid (and maybe slept) through one scandal after another:
the Iran-Contra Affair, influence-peddling at the Department of Housing and
Urban Development , the Ill Wind Pentagon fraud scandal, Sewergate at the
Environmental Protection Agency, the Inslaw Affair, and so on.
Something else stands out from those years, a commercial that always seemed
to be playing on TV, perhaps even between stories about the two Teflon
newsmakers. It began with a team of horses charging through the night
pulling a carriage. As the coach comes to a stop, a clone of Henry VIII
steps forth, his eyes wide, his mouth open, awed by the utter 1980s opulence
arrayed before him. Youre the king, youre the king of the castle, sings
a woman with a cruise-ship-quality voice. Trump Castle, hotel and casino,
and baby, baby, do we know how to treat a king! What follows is a barrage
of a montage: a tux-clad maître d', Vegas-style showgirls, a cork popping
from a bottle of champagne. And then Henrys back. Now this is a castle!
he booms, his arms lifted to the sky as the camera pans to take in the gaudy
elegance of Donald Trumps Atlantic City pleasure palace.
For decades, that commercial, or at least the horrible jingle sung by
Trumps sequin-clad chanteuse, never quite left my brain. Still, who could
have imagined that the man who sired that ad would emerge as a serious
presidential candidate of the party of the Teflon president and prove to be,
at least to this moment, more resilient, more Teflonesque, no matter what he
says or does, than Dutch Reagan and John Gotti combined? What started as a
joke has become a disaster-in-the-making and the wink offered by a
tiara-wearing cocktail waitress at that ads end has taken on a new
resonance for me.
Trumps Castle was rebranded out of existence in the 1990s and The Donalds
Atlantic City empire -- the Trump Taj Mahal (now owned by activist investor
Carl Icahn), Trump Plaza, and the Trump Marina (the old Castle) -- crumbled.
But Trump himself has somehow emerged stronger than ever. The man who sought
to lure all aspiring monarchs to A.C. (welcome to a kingdom where
everybodys treated like a king) has whipped up a heady mix of xenophobia,
political bromides, and so-light-it-floats policy proposals into a movement.
Call it Trumpism, or maybe even Trumpismo. And should he ride this populist
wave of fear and loathing to the Republican nomination for president, the
American political system will never be the same -- so says TomDispatch
regular Andrew Bacevich whose monumental new book, Americas War for the
Greater Middle East, is due out this April. If the Teflon doesnt wear thin
soon, you might want to start preparing yourself for this once-improbable
candidate to become, as Bacevich suggests, Americas very own Juan Perón,
though he might prefer to be called the king of the castle. Nick Turse
Dont Cry for Me, America
What Trumpism Means for Democracy
By Andrew J. Bacevich
Whether or not Donald Trump ultimately succeeds in winning the White House,
historians are likely to rank him as the most consequential presidential
candidate of at least the past half-century. He has already transformed the
tone and temper of American political life. If he becomes the Republican
nominee, he will demolish its structural underpinnings as well. Should he
prevail in November, his election will alter its very fabric in ways likely
to prove irreversible. Whether Trump ever delivers on his promise to "Make
America Great Again," he is already transforming American democratic
practice.
Trump takes obvious delight in thumbing his nose at the political
establishment and flouting its norms. Yet to classify him as an
anti-establishment figure is to miss his true significance. He is to
American politics what Martin Shkreli is to Big Pharma. Each represents in
exaggerated form the distilled essence of a much larger and more disturbing
reality. Each embodies the smirking cynicism that has become one of the
defining characteristics of our age. Each in his own way is a sign of the
times.
In contrast to the universally reviled Shkreli, however, Trump has
cultivated a mass following that appears impervious to his missteps,
miscues, and misstatements. What Trump actually believes -- whether he
believes in anything apart from big, splashy self-display -- is largely
unknown and probably beside the point. Trumpism is not a program or an
ideology. It is an attitude or pose that feeds off of, and then reinforces,
widespread anger and alienation.
The pose works because the anger -- always present in certain quarters of
the American electorate but especially acute today -- is genuine. By acting
the part of impish bad boy and consciously trampling on the canons of
political correctness, Trump validates that anger. The more outrageous his
behavior, the more secure his position at the very center of the political
circus. Wondering what he will do next, we cant take our eyes off him. And
to quote Marco Rubio in a different context, Trump knows exactly what he is
doing.
Targeting Obama's Presidency
There is a form of genius at work here. To an extent unmatched by any other
figure in American public life, Trump understands that previous distinctions
between the ostensibly serious and the self-evidently frivolous have
collapsed. Back in 1968, then running for president, Richard Nixon, of all
people, got things rolling when he appeared on Laugh-In and uttered the
immortal words, Sock it to me? But no one has come close to Trump in
grasping the implications of all this: in contemporary America, celebrity
confers authority. Mere credentials or qualifications have become an
afterthought. How else to explain the host of a "reality" TV show instantly
qualifying as a serious contender for high office?
For further evidence of Trumps genius, consider the skill with which he
plays the media, especially celebrity journalists who themselves specialize
in smirking cynicism. Rather than pretending to take them seriously, he
unmasks their preening narcissism, which mirrors his own. He refuses to
acknowledge their self-assigned role as gatekeepers empowered to police the
boundaries of permissible discourse. As the embodiment of breaking news,
he continues to stretch those boundaries beyond recognition.
In that regard, the spectacle of televised debates has offered Trump an
ideal platform for promoting his cult of personality. Once a solemn, almost
soporific forum for civic education -- remember Kennedy and Nixon in 1960?
-- presidential debates now provide occasions for trading insults, provoking
gaffes, engaging in verbal food fights, and marketing magical solutions to
problems ranging from war to border security that are immune to magic. For
all of that we have Trump chiefly to thank.
Trumps success as a campaigner schools his opponents, of course. In a
shrinking Republican field, survival requires mimicking his antics. In that
regard, Ted Cruz rates as Trumps star pupil. Cruz is to Trump what Lady
Gaga was to Amy Winehouse -- a less freewheeling, more scripted, and
arguably more calculating version of the original.
Yet if not a clone, Cruz taps into the same vein of pissed-off,
give-me-my-country-back rage that Trump himself has so adeptly exploited.
Like the master himself, Cruz has demonstrated a notable aptitude for
expressing disagreement through denigration and for extravagant, crackpot
promises. For his part, Marco Rubio, the only other Republican still
seriously in the running, lags not far behind. When it comes to swagger and
grandiosity, nothing beats a vow to create a New American Century, thereby
resurrecting a mythic past when all was ostensibly right with the world.
On two points alone do these several Republicans see eye-to-eye. The first
relates to domestic policy, the second to Americas role in the world.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/0553393936/ref=nosim/?tag=tomdispatch-20
http://www.amazon.com/dp/0553393936/ref=nosim/?tag=tomdispatch-20On point
one: with absolute unanimity, Trump, Cruz, and Rubio ascribe to Barack Obama
any and all problems besetting the nation. To take their critique at face
value, the country was doing swimmingly well back in 2009 when Obama took
office. Today, its FUBAR, due entirely to Obamas malign actions.
Wielding comparable authority, however, a Republican president can, they
claim, dismantle Obamas poisonous legacy and restore all that he has
destroyed. From day one, on issues ranging from health care to immigration
to the environment, the Republican candidates vow to do exactly this. With
the stroke of a pen and the wave of a hand, it will be a breeze.
On point two: ditto. Aided and abetted by Hillary Clinton, Obama has made a
complete hash of things abroad. Here the list of Republican grievances is
especially long. Thanks to Obama, Russia threatens Europe; North Korea is
misbehaving; China is flexing its military muscles; ISIS is on the march;
Iran has a clear path to acquiring nuclear weapons; and perhaps most
distressingly of all, Benjamin Netanyahu, the prime minister of Israel, is
unhappy with U.S. policy.
Here, too, the Republican candidates see eye-to-eye and have solutions
readily at hand. In one way or another, all of those solutions relate to
military power. Trump, Cruz, and Rubio are unabashed militarists. (So, too,
is Hillary Clinton, but thats an issue deserving an essay of its own).
Their gripe with Obama is that he never put American military might fully to
work, a defect they vow to amend. A Republican commander-in-chief, be it
Trump, Cruz, or Rubio, wont take any guff from Moscow or Pyongyang or
Beijing or Tehran. He will eradicate "radical Islamic terrorism," put the
mullahs back in their box, torture a bunch of terrorists in the bargain, and
give Bibi whatever he wants.
In addition to offering Obama a sort of backhanded tribute -- so much damage
wrought by just one man in so little time -- the Republican critique
reinforces reigning theories of presidential omnipotence. Just as an
incompetent or ill-motivated chief executive can screw everything up, so,
too, can a bold and skillful one set things right.
Juan and Evita in Washington?
The ratio between promises made and promises fulfilled by every president in
recent memory -- Obama included -- should have demolished such theories long
ago. But no such luck. Fantasies of a great president saving the day still
persist, something that Trump, Cruz, and Rubio have all made the centerpiece
of their campaigns. Elect me, each asserts. I alone can save the Republic.
Here, however, Trump may enjoy an edge over his competitors, including
Hillary Clinton and Bernie Sanders. With Americans assigning to their
presidents the attributes of demigods -- each and every one memorialized
before death with a library-shrine -- who better to fill the role than an
egomaniacal tycoon who already acts the part? The times call for strong
leadership. Who better to provide it than a wheeler-dealer unbothered by the
rules that constrain mere mortals?
What then lies ahead?
If Trump secures the Republican nomination, now an increasingly imaginable
prospect, the party is likely to implode. Whatever rump organization
survives will have forfeited any remaining claim to represent principled
conservatism.
None of this will matter to Trump, however. He is no conservative and
Trumpism requires no party. Even if some new institutional alternative to
conventional liberalism eventually emerges, the two-party system that has
long defined the landscape of American politics will be gone for good.
Should Trump or a Trump mini-me ultimately succeed in capturing the
presidency, a possibility that can no longer be dismissed out of hand, the
effects will be even more profound. In all but name, the United States will
cease to be a constitutional republic. Once President Trump inevitably
declares that he alone expresses the popular will, Americans will find that
they have traded the rule of law for a version of caudillismo. Trumps
Washington could come to resemble Buenos Aires in the days of Juan Perón,
with Melania a suitably glamorous stand-in for Evita, and plebiscites
suitably glamorous stand-ins for elections.
That a considerable number of Americans appear to welcome this prospect may
seem inexplicable. Yet reason enough exists for their disenchantment.
American democracy has been decaying for decades. The people know that they
are no longer truly sovereign. They know that the apparatus of power, both
public and private, does not promote the common good, itself a concept that
has become obsolete. They have had their fill of irresponsibility, lack of
accountability, incompetence, and the bad times that increasingly seem to go
with them.
So in disturbingly large numbers they have turned to Trump to strip bare the
body politic, willing to take a chance that he will come up with something
that, if not better, will at least be more entertaining. As Argentines and
others who have trusted their fate to demagogues have discovered, such
expectations are doomed to disappointment.
In the meantime, just imagine how the Donald J. Trump Presidential Library,
no doubt taller than all the others put together, might one day glitter and
glisten -- perhaps with casino attached.
Andrew J. Bacevich, a TomDispatch regular, is professor emeritus of history
and international relations at Boston University. He is the author of the
new book Americas War for the Greater Middle East: A Military History
(Random House, April 2016).
Follow TomDispatch on Twitter and join us on Facebook. Check out the newest
Dispatch Book, Nick Turses Tomorrows Battlefield: U.S. Proxy Wars and
Secret Ops in Africa, and Tom Engelhardt's latest book, Shadow Government:
Surveillance, Secret Wars, and a Global Security State in a
Single-Superpower World.
Copyright 2016 Andrew Bacevich
© 2016 TomDispatch. All rights reserved.
View this story online at: http://www.tomdispatch.com/blog/176109
