Presidential politics, and what we deserve

I ran for elective office last Tuesday — and lost.

I have no doubt the republic will survive. While I’m too often full of myself, I’ve never suffered the delusion that I alone can fix anything.

That said, I’m not sure the republic will survive. I’m talking about President Trump.

Whenever I write on this theme, I hear from readers who dismiss what I’ve said as the ravings of a liberal. Feel free to dismiss me, but I’m not a liberal in the American political sense. I’m the son of a Goldwater conservative, and I’ve voted for as many Republicans as Democrats. I believe in Jeffersonian limited government that exercises only the power granted it by the governed. I’m a Teddy Roosevelt progressive who regards government as an advocate for ordinary citizens against the disproportionate might of the most powerful.

I have no doubt that bigots stand and lurk among the president’s followers. I’ve seen them on parade. I am, however, equally certain that many intelligent, decent people support him. I know this because I know them. I’ve talked to them. I don’t understand how they think as they do, but I don’t doubt the virtue of their intentions or their love of country.

They object to what they regard as the overreach of some government programs. So would my father, and sometimes so do I. They object when their views on social issues are branded intolerant simply because they’re out of step with contemporary orthodoxies. Even when I don’t agree, their concerns deserve a hearing and more respect than they’re given. They object to schools’ increasing intrusion into the prerogatives of parents. I’m a teacher, and I do, too.

Some frankly describe the president in the most unflattering terms, but consider him the bitter pill they must swallow to enjoy the policy objectives they endorse. Let’s assume for a moment that borrowing over a trillion dollars to fund a tax cut was fiscally sound, that Bret Kavanaugh is worthy to sit on the Supreme Court, that denigrating our allies and launching trade wars around the world constitute sound foreign policy.

Even if every policy were sound, is he worth it? What are you trading? What are we risking?

The president’s supporters usually summarize their dissatisfactions under the banner, “I wish he’d stop tweeting.” They excuse his serially offensive statements as his protest against political correctness.

I don’t like political correctness either. I recognize, though, that words have power, so I try to use language in ways that aren’t unnecessarily offensive. I’m not trying to stir up avoidable strife.

President Trump doesn’t operate that way. Back when James Monroe was in office, nationalism meant putting the wellbeing of the nation as a whole above the interests of your region. That’s not the meaning it has anymore. If I used the word in its old-fashioned sense and found it was being taken in its 20th-century fascist sense, I’d trip all over myself reassuring my audience that I meant no such thing and no such offense.

President Trump didn’t do that. He’s acknowledged the word’s fascist, racist connotation and why people avoid it. When questioned about the encouragement he might give to racists by identifying himself as a nationalist, he dismissed the question as “racist.”

Maybe that’s a small thing. But what about his equivalency after Charlottesville, his remarks on the escalator, his birther campaign, and his caravan venom? What about his unrelenting incitement of his rally crowds? Are these all small things?

Lincoln appealed to the better angels of our nature. Lyndon Johnson observed that “a President can appeal to the best in our people or the worst.”

Which is President Trump appealing to? Which are we becoming?

The same Lyndon Johnson often seemed coarse and offensive, especially when compared to the Kennedys’ refinement. President Trump’s defenders often similarly write his offensiveness off as a matter of manners and personality. But President Trump’s offenses go well beyond manners. They’re evidence of his character and his narcissism.

People and politicians commonly lie when they feel compelled by circumstance or strategy. Donald Trump, however, lies without blushing — serially, compulsively, transparently.

As I write this, for example, I’ve heard him claim not to even know his new acting attorney general, Matt Whitaker, whom he’d met with repeatedly in the Oval Office. I also heard his October statement where he pointedly said, “I know Matt Whitaker well.”

This happens all the time. If you haven’t noticed, I urge you to pay closer attention. If you have, count the cost of excusing his lies and abetting the harm he does the truth. And that’s not even touching on the tightening ring of indictments, convictions and confessions.

George Washington long ago warned against a president who would one day attempt to found “his own elevation on the ruins of public liberty.” Well-intentioned Trump supporters assure me that even though they tolerate his antics, they won’t allow him to subvert the Constitution. What if he already is?

Ben Franklin taught us that people willing to trade liberty for safety deserve neither. Safety is precious, but Franklin believed, and his own life proved, that for him liberty came first.

If even safety pales beside liberty, where in the scheme of things do tax cuts and the next Supreme Court justice rank? Consider what we’re trading away and what Franklin would say we deserve.