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Monday morning, President Donald Trump sent out his heads of Justice, State and Homeland Security to publicly present his revised executive order banning immigration from a list of countries. The president always revels in these photo-ops, handing out pens and fanning the signed E.O.s for the cameras. He beams like a proud middle-schooler at commencement. Monday he did not show up. He signed it alone. If he had shown up, he would have had to at least listen to questions about the baseless accusations he made on Saturday ― that our last president broke the law. He doesn’t have any facts or answers. He can’t back it up, so he refused to show up. He hid behind his cabinet secretaries (and even they did not take questions). Trump can play the would-be tough guy with his ban, but ditching the press today was a sign of sheer weakness.
The American presidency is the most powerful office in the world. As a consequence, we sometimes confuse the strength of the office with the strength of the occupant. But deep down, most of us know. Former White House Senior Advisor David Axelrod is fond of saying: “Campaigns are like an MRI for the soul — whoever you are, eventually people find out.”
And we found out. Long before Donald Trump threaded the Electoral College to win the White House. We found out. Again and again. We were reminded each day that he was very wealthy, very skilled at television, and very weak.
A man who exaggerates his riches while lying about how much money he’s given to charity - but refuses to let voters see his tax returns, is not strong. He is not proud. He is weak.
A man who calls the press to brag about his prowess with women - pretending to be an imaginary person as the source - is not someone who possesses confidence with the opposite sex. It is a display of profound insecurity and weakness.
A man who constantly and inaccurately labels a judge “a Mexican” and claims, therefore, that the judge cannot fairly hear his case because “I’m building a wall!” - is not someone who has confidence in the justice system. It’s also not someone who has a strong case. He has only weakness, disguised in ugly bluster.
A man who is discovered to have boasted on tape about his sexual assault practices - and then goes on national television to accuse others - is not a strong adult. He is a weak child. A bottomless pit.
A man who publicly mocks a person with a disability just might be the ultimate exhibit of personal weakness. That low point for Trump was a hard one to sink beneath. But just wait. With a person this unaware of his insecurities, it is not impossible.
It is often reported that Donald Trump learned this strategy of always being on attack from the late Roy Cohn, who was Trump’s lawyer and also represented Joseph McCarthy during the investigations into Communist activity. On Saturday morning, in an astonishing display of the depth of his weakness, Trump’s accusations toward his predecessor ironically borrowed from the life of his mentor, tweeting: “This is McCarthyism!”
No one should be shocked anymore. A man of weak character will reflect weakness, cloaked in bravado. Many children do this reflexively, until they learn better. As we grow up, we generally obtain a stronger sense of security. For many reasons, documented by many biographers, Donald Trump never got to that place. He always wants more. You could say he believes that the ends justify the means - if it weren’t for the fact that no ends ever satisfy him. This is weakness. It is a very sad form of weakness. And now it is something that the country must live with daily.
Out of so many surreal moments in an 18-month long circus campaign that still seems to be selling tickets months after the results were certified, one lowlight in particular really stood out in terms of reflecting Trump’s adolescent weakness. It was in the third debate. Hillary Clinton called on Trump to condemn the Russians for interfering in the elections. When Trump refused and said that Vladimir Putin had no respect for the former Secretary of State, Clinton replied that this was because he’d “rather have a puppet as president of the United States.” As Clinton continued to make her point is full sentences, a 70 year-old man interrupted her twice with the following defense:
“You’re the puppet! No, you’re the puppet!” My five year-old cousin has more strength and sense.
Many folks who supported the president say they like him because he “tells it like it is.” Of course, this isn’t true. He may sound fresh compared to so many other politicians, but that’s not telling it like it is. It’s an act. An act that keeps on going. One weak display after another. Just when you think he can’t top his most recent offensive display, he finds a way. And Americans are kind of caught in a tough place; even when many of us know we should ignore words coming from this president, they are still words coming from a U.S. president. That’s where we are.
Donald Trump won the Electoral College. He’s the head of our government. He is commander-in-chief. At least until he’s not. But forget the whole big-shot thing. Please don’t confuse winning an election with strength. There’s a person sitting in the Oval Office, but in a way, the big chair is empty. Whether it’s calling another adult “little Marco,” falsely accusing a U.S. Senator’s father of being part of a presidential assassination, grabbing women’s genitals, telling Americans that it was the U.S. generals who lost Navy Seal Ryan Owens - you can finish the list on your own - this is not a strong person. This American president is a weak man who will saddle the closest person nearby with the blame for his own shortcomings and failures. The ultimate sign of lack of leadership. The MRI results came in a long time ago. While perhaps the exact degree of weakness in Donald Trump’s character cannot be measured with existing technology, we know enough. In just six weeks. We know far too much.
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