Trump keeps finding new ways to celebrate himself
Donald Trump left his hospital suite to take a victory lap on Sunday, and Monday afternoon tweeted that he would be returning to the White House in the evening. The conclusion we are supposed to draw is that an indomitable leader has quickly vanquished the dangerous virus that afflicted him. Even sick, Trump has not lost his knack for constantly seeking attention and portraying himself as the hero.
Whether things will unfold as smoothly as he hopes is an open question. But his illness shouldn’t obscure the many ways in which he continues to misgovern.
The Austrian economist Ludwig von Mises, who detested inflation, is credited with saying, “Government is the only institution that can take a valuable commodity like paper and make it worthless by applying ink.” Trump has managed a comparable feat: making free food unappetizing by putting his name on it.
The federal Agriculture Department administers a $4 billion program that has distributed boxes containing fresh produce, meat and dairy products to some 100 million needy Americans through food pantries and other nonprofit groups. The initiative began in April in response to the coronavirus pandemic, but by some oversight the USDA initially failed to use this opportunity to shill for the Republican presidential nominee.
Now it has corrected that omission by requiring that organizations distributing these packages include a letter, over Trump’s ostentatious signature, bragging that he “prioritized sending nutritious food from our farmers to families in need throughout America.” His message fails to mention that the program is funded by the American taxpayer.
The groups on the front lines would prefer not to serve as conduits for campaign propaganda. Evelyn Figueroa, who runs the Pilsen Food Pantry in Chicago, told the Tribune’s Alexia Elejalde-Ruiz that she found the message “unethical and a misuse of government funds.”
Trump, whose vanity is an unquenchable thirst, has a history of stamping his name on things. Often he has gotten paid to do so, but sometimes he has done it at his own expense. His International Hotel and Tower in Chicago, completed in 2009, is a handsome glass skyscraper that he proceeded to deface with the giant letters T-R-U-M-P.
That label helped make the site what has been described as “Chicago retail’s biggest failure.” He became a liability for residents as soon as he began running for president. Back then, one of them told the Tribune, “You know what people here say? They say, ‘I live at 401 North Wabash.’”
Since then, these condos have come with an unmatched view of anti-Trump protests. But their values have sunk to the lowest level since 2008, during the Great Recession.
The food box letter fits the president’s pattern. His administration insisted on putting Trump’s name on the stimulus checks for Americans that Congress approved to mitigate the damage of the pandemic.
It was the first time ever, reported The Washington Post, that “a president’s name appears on an IRS disbursement.” When the government sent out stimulus checks in 2008, under President George W. Bush, they bore only the signature of a Treasury official.
This time, recipients were led to believe that the assistance came out of the goodness of Trump’s heart. There was no disclosure that the full cost will fall on taxpayers. It was an example of a politician trying to buy voters with their own money. Trump is doing the same thing with Medicare beneficiaries, 33 million of whom will get $200 discount cards to defray the cost of prescription medications. The White House claimed the money would come out of savings from a program to cut drug prices that has not yet been designed, much less enacted.
During his previous career, Trump often promised personal donations to worthy causes. But the checks would come from the Trump Foundation. It was eventually forced to shut down, and Trump had to pay a $2 million fine for misusing foundation funds for his own benefit. The food box letters are a variation of that abuse — a cheesy ploy to bolster his campaign at no cost to himself.
But by now, most of the recipients know Trump too well to be fooled. Like his Sunday drive, which needlessly put Secret Service agents at risk, it was a reminder that what he does is never about helping others. It’s about helping himself.