Nightmare Scenario: The United States teeters precariously on a narrow ledge of sanity while POTUS, gargantuan and grinning, bids it step out into the abyss.
PRESIDENT DONALD TRUMP is the Father of Nightmares. The
logic of his administration is indistinguishable now from the logic of dreams:
his White House minions prey to the same abrupt shifts of mood; the same
lightning-fast transitions from elation to dread. America itself has become the
prisoner of its President’s vagrant fancies: a place where trust and treachery
grapple like celebrity wrestlers in front of a television audience of millions.
The whole country teeters precariously on a narrow ledge of sanity while POTUS,
gargantuan and grinning, bids it step out into the abyss.
Unwitting and unprepared, America and the world have been
propelled back through time to the era of kings and emperors. Accustomed to
living in a world from which the habits of obedience and obeisance have long
been banished, the realisation that they are now as frightened and vulnerable
as any of the inhabitants of those luckless nations on the margins of civilisation
has come as quite a shock. Presidential pique can now upend lives as easily as
presidential beneficence can redeem them. The world’s leaders have been reduced
to mere courtiers in the planet-sized Versailles the USA has built for them.
How to respond when American foreign policy is driven by
presidential whim? When international trade is reduced to a pile of chips in a
testosterone-fuelled game of Texas hold-em? What to do when old allies are
treated like the hired help and brutal dictators are treated to “The Donald’s”
best real-estate advice? When the 400-year-old Westphalian System of sovereign
states pursuing their national self-interest rationally and predictably is
impatiently tossed aside? When did it become okay for the leader of the world’s
“indispensable” nation to behave like a Mafia don?
It’s worse for those ordinary Americans who have yet to
succumb to the fever-dream that is Trumpism. Americans with college degrees and
what were once considered to be good manners. Americans who believe in Darwin’s
theory of evolution and regard the Bible as a collection of moral metaphors.
Americans who won’t have handguns anywhere near their children. Americans who
read. For these Americans every heavy footfall in the public square sounds as
close as their front door. They would call the Police if they weren’t so
terrified that it’s the thud of policemen’s boots that woke them.
The true horror of Trump’s nightmares is that the people in
them, the people doing the most monstrous things, don’t even know they’re
monsters. Those Texas cops and border guards carrying the children away from
their parents. Those minimum-wage workers in the camp canteens, dishing out the
detainees’ food with friendly smiles. If asked, they would swear on a stack of
Bibles that they are the good guys in their President’s movie. Except that it
doesn’t pay to ask that sort of question, does it? Not unless the questioner
wants to see the look of easy familiarity disappear from their eyes. Not unless
he or she wants to see it replaced in an instant with the cold, gun-metal glare
of hostility that Trump’s supporters reserve for his enemies.
That’s when the panic sets in. Trump’s press secretary,
Sarah Sanders, is asked to leave the Little Red Hen restaurant in Virginia and
liberal America cheers. But then the awful thought strikes them. What if
Trump’s supporters decide to do something similar?
“How hard is it to imagine,” asks the Washington Post’s editorial writer, “people who strongly believe
that abortion is murder deciding that judges or other officials who protect
abortion rights should not be able to live peaceably with their families?” And
that’s the thing, isn’t it? Knowing that whatever peaceful little protest the
sort of Americans who watch The
Handmaid’s Tale might make against Trump can be answered in an instant by
bearded men with bulging beer-guts toting pump-action shotguns and wearing
“Make America Great Again” baseball caps to hide their male pattern baldness.
The Father of Nightmares has sired too many nightmarish children.
This essay was
originally posted on The Daily Blog
of Thursday, 28 June 2018.