There is no there there
I mean no disrespect to the fine city of Oakland, California, when I employ Gertrude Stein’s enigmatic epigram concerning it, “There is no there there.” I quote her as I write this on the morning of Trump’s 79th birthday. I apply her quotation to Trump to point out that the man who unconstitutionally occupies the Oval Office is a soulless nothing.
Trump is an eating machine. He thrives on strokes to his ego, the pain of others, hatred, fear and money. He does not reflect. He never (by his own admission) wonders if he is ever wrong. That question in fact means nothing to him. He does not know the difference between right and wrong.
Trump also doesn’t know what compassion is. Trump cannot put himself in another person’s shoes. Indeed, he believes, not unlike an infant, that his shoes are different from everyone else’s shoes. His shoes are better and more deserving. I don’t know if his mother ever asked him to put himself in another person’s place. If she did he didn’t understand it.
At one point in his life Trump probably, like most sociopaths, wondered what compassion was and tried to imitate it. Sociopaths are seldom successful at convincingly counterfeiting compassion, even the intelligent ones, which Trump most emphatically is not.
Even Hitler liked dogs. Even Hitler had a friend. Albert Speer once observed that if Hitler could be said to have a friend he was his friend. Even Hitler passionately believed in his political ideology. Trump hates dogs, has no friends and believes in nothing but himself.
Unlike Lawrence O’Donnell, who seems to never mention Trump without also using his first name, I never call him anything but “Trump.” It’s a matter of personal style. Mr O’Donnell does what he does possibly because he doesn’t want to inadvertently impugn anyone else with the misfortune of sharing Trump’s last name. I do it, and have done for some months now, because it’s a sign of disrespect and because I do not regard Trump as a human being.
Trump’s absence of human qualities and complications makes him easy to predict. Because Trump is also stupid and unsophisticated we can eliminate smart and sophisticated possibilities from the routes he may take. Trump isn’t playing 3-D chess, or any kind of chess for that matter. He arrived at the political chess tournament with a bag of crayons he plans to eat.
I can’t begin to guess why people follow and admire Trump. I am sure there is no single reason. To date I have never met a Trump supporter or admirer who isn’t deeply flawed in some way. I have a Republican friend who voted for Trump but despises the man. There are plenty of Trump voters like him.
It’s not so much about a list of qualities as a spectrum. Somewhere on the spectrum between good and evil, more toward evil, lie Trump supporters. Many of them are hateful bigots, some are rich opportunistic idiots who mistakenly think Trump will work to their advantage, some are frightened appeasers, all are fools.
Trump is a soulless monster, an energy vampire, a latter-day dybbuk. I’m glad he’s 79 today and still eats with the careless disregard of an irresponsible adolescent. Because that means he’s one year closer to the Great Equalizer, the ultimate end we must all face, and he seems to be in a hurry. Good. That’s possibly the only thing he and I have in common. I want him to hurry.
Robert Harrington is an American expat living in Britain. He is a portrait painter.