The Politics of Fear|New Yorker

The young Donald Trump is Nelson Muntz of Jamaica Estate. (Or he is Draco Malfoy? Scholars will argue about such issues for generations.)

In any case, Trump has been a spoiled bully since his growth. The Trump family’s wealth is made in the real estate outside, with a chef and a driver, “Donny Jr.” is a Tail Lalala, a big mouth that tortured his teacher, throwing insults and rocks at other kids. When Trump was thirteen, his father Fred transported him to a military school in Cornwall, New York. Hopefully this is just that kind of place, and Donald will mature into a young man who just happens to be self-regulating.

Actually, this didn’t happen. Trump is well aware that his joy for rule is his immutable core. Marc Fisher co-wrote with others “Trump Reveals”, a shrewd early biography and personality analysis that once told PBS that as a trainee, Trump “used a broom as a weapon against his classmates, and they didn’t listen to him when he told them what to do.

At home, Trump and his father’s apprentice collect rent and learn better discriminatory housing sites. He ended up under the guidance of his lawyer and Sybarite Roy Cohn. The lessons Trump learned from Cohen were totally malicious: Never show weakness. Never apologize, never explain. Attack, never defend. Increase loyalty through intimidation. Trump became his own existence on Page Six with his curious COIF and complacent expression. Indecent and aggression are his brand. Cruel, narcissistic, double-the list is already long and now so familiar that even some Trump supporters admit that his most toxic attribute is using DC Lingo and then baking it into the cake.

In 1989, Trump published a full page advertisement in New York newspapers after the arrest of five black and Latino teens, known as the Central Park Five. (Their belief in rape was eventually overturned.

Mayor Koch said hatred and hatred should be eliminated from our hearts. I don’t think so. I want to hate these robbers and murderers. They should be forced to suffer and when they are killed, they should be executed for crime. . . . I recently watched a news broadcast trying to explain “the anger of these young people.” I no longer want to know about their anger. I hope they understand our anger. I hope they are scared.

The ad leads Murray Kempton, the greatest columnist in New York, to consider Trump’s wonders—“the man demeans anything he touches—“ as he walks through the big city:

Boasting about hatred was the embarrassment of the worst. I know the Birmingham Police Commissioner, who was sentenced to jail [the civil-rights activist] Fred Suthtlesworth time and time again. He has always been a mean man, and a vicious man from time to time, but he went to the grave and denied that he had ever hated anyone. Time is the ones who send letters of hatred feel ashamed to remain anonymous.

But it’s not Trump. The information he insisted on despising was not something he had concealed. Instead, his desire for attention is reflected in his ridiculous signature. As a businessman, he is often accused of cheating on contractors. As the star of “Apprentice”, he himself has only one thriving cartoon CEO who appreciates his potential employees stuttering, earthquakes and crying. As a presidential candidate, he made clear the world’s point of view: there are “us” and “they.” And, with him in the White House, the fear factor will prevail. (Or, as he once said to Bob Woodward, “The real power is – I don’t even want to use the word – fear.”)

“I’m scared,” a 12-year-old North Carolina girl told Trump during his first presidential campaign. “How are you going to protect this country?”

“Do you know, dear?” Trump said. “You won’t be scared anymore. They will be scared.”

Six months after his second term, Trump is clearly who “they” are. The uneasy population is diverse. (If the word is still legal.) It includes immigrants, university presidents, media executives, cultural institutions, librarians, academics, scientists, trans people, government contractors, and dedicated federal employees. Some suffer for the president’s party and are deported in handcuffs and legs. Some are forced to pay tribute to millions of dollars to conduct scientific research or broadcast news. Others must hire lawyers to defend against false charges of treason. In Congress, fear has brought the Republican majority in aligned and has led all Democrats to mind their language. Trump once ridiculed his secretary of state and national security adviser as “Marco”, and has been a completely obedient Satrap ever since. The cabinets are a batch of trembling Yee-Sayers.

This response left the president without a titration end. “They all bent over and said, ‘Sir, thank you very much,'” he bragged after some law firms began making pitiful arrangements with the White House. “They just said, ‘Where am I signing it?’ Transparent

Fortunately, there are inspiring examples of self-conservation in every corner of the country. Some civil rights groups and judges rejected Trump’s most obvious challenge to the rule of law. Some artists have also set an example. Recently, there was Amy Sherald, who withdrew her solo performance scheduled for September at the Smithsonian National Portrait Gallery in Washington, D.C., instead of the accompanying video “Transforming Freedom” painting “Context”. Then there’s Trey Parker and Matt Stone’s still crucial, still tricky “South Park,” which recently published an episode about the naked president whose flaws are boring.

But even if Trump’s disapproval ratings improve, the Democrats continue to work hard. Its leadership abilities vary greatly and are insufficient. Still, there are many forms of determination. The cartoon overlord inevitably prevails. If individuals and institutions can gather more determination, neither will the president. ♦