Trump issues a declaration of war, fully embracing authoritianism

US President’s menacing warning to his own people shows how dangerous he is, writes Martyn Mclaughlin

How has it come to pass that in a country where thousands of people continue to be lost every week to a pandemic, and the prospect of a double-dip recession holds the promise of untold pain to come, that its leader – the man who took an oath to preserve, protect, and defend its constitution – is the one expediting its descent into bedlam?

The political ascendancy of Donald Trump has always felt like playing with fire, its flames forever flickering after millions of disenfranchised Americans poured their latent anger into an empty, gleaming vessel, then stood back and waited to see what might happen.

The inferno now engulfing their country is not their fault, but it should serve as a constant reminder to them – and future generations – of just how fragile our sense of normalcy can be.

No one should ever forget the scenes which played out in Washington DC late Monday evening, as the leader of the free world emerged from the bowels of the city upon a hill to issue a declaration of war on his own people. What had long lurked below the surface was brought into plain sight.

The studied menace of Mr Trump’s prepared statement, accompanied by an ambient soundtrack of sirens and screams, was chilling enough. But the events which preceded and followed it ensured the writing of an ignominious chapter in American history.

The timing of the National Guard and riot police’s forward charge in the ravaged streets surrounding Pennsylvania Avenue was no coincidence, taking place well before the evening curfew came into place, but mere moments before Mr Trump was due to speak.

Make no mistake, this was tyranny by design – a dreadful and dreadinducing narrative expressly engineered for the rolling news era. On one screen, the President read aloud his threats, dressed in language of solicitude. “America needs creation not destruction, cooperation not contempt, security not anarchy, healing not hatred, justice not chaos,” he said, addressing the nation.

The other screen provided the subtext, as military and mounted police fired tear gas, flash grenades, and rubber bullets into crowds of peaceful protestors, with journalists on the scene subjected to violent, indiscriminate attacks.

The gas had barely dissipated in the streets around the White House in time for a surreal coda, as Mr Trump stalked through Lafayette Square from the White House, coming to a stop outside St John’s Episcopal Church, where only hours previously, the clergy and congregation had gathered to pray and heal.

Framed by its boarded-up windows, a glowering Mr Trump stood motionless, save for raising his right arm aloft, a black bible clutched in his hand. The impulsiveness of the moment required guesswork of its brooding, inchoate symbolism, but its purpose was explicit: I am your President of law and order, it said. Defy me at your peril.

It is hard to recall a scene quite so sinister in modern American history, and even more difficult to accept that the violence and intimidation which preceded it was designed to clear the route. It has been several years since I last read the Book of Exodus, and even longer, I suspect, for Mr Trump, but when Moses parted the Red Sea to provide safe passage for the Israelites, he did not require the military’s help.

No doubt a President whose every utterance is geared towards the visual grammar of television wished to