Presidential Pettiness

The Atlantic

2 days ago

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Presidents are, like the rest of us, flawed human beings. Many of them had volcanic tempers: Harry Truman, Richard Nixon, and Joe Biden, among others, reportedly could sling Anglo-Saxonisms with gusto. In public, most of them managed to convey an image of geniality. (Nixon might be the exception there, but he embraced being an uptight square and his admirers found it endearing.) But all of them, regardless of their personality, had at least some notion about government, some sense of what they wanted to accomplish in the most powerful office in the world.
Donald Trump exhibits no such guiding belief. From his first day as a candidate, Trump has appeared animated by anger, fear, and, most of all, pettiness, a small-minded vengefulness that takes the place of actual policy making. It taints the air in the executive branch like a forgotten bag of trash in a warm house on a summer day—even when you can't see it, you know it's there.
Trump's first run for office was itself a kind of petty tantrum. Trump had always wanted to run for president, a wish he expressed as far back as the 1980s. But Trump's journey from pro-abortion-rights New York oligarch to anti-abortion Republican populist picked up speed after President Barack Obama humiliated him at the 2011 White House Correspondents' Association dinner. Trump denies that Obama's jibes moved him to run, but he jumped into the open GOP field once Obama's two terms were coming to an end, and to this day, he remains obsessed with the first and only Black president—to the point that he misspoke on at least one occasion and said that he defeated Obama, not Hillary Clinton, to win his first term.
Trump's second term has been a cavalcade of pettiness; his lieutenants have internalized the president's culture of purges, retribution, and loyalty checks. Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth's insistence, for example, on renaming U.S. military bases after Confederate leaders has led to clumsy explanations about how the bases are now named for men who had names that are exactly like the 19th-century traitors'. This kind of explanation is the sort of thing that high-school teachers get from teenage smart alecks who think they're being clever in class.
My colleague Shane Harris recently reported an appalling story about how former Director of National Intelligence James Clapper sponsored a rescue dog to become a working animal at the CIA. He named the dog Susan, after his late wife, an animal lover who volunteered at a local shelter. Clapper was looking forward to attending Susan's graduation ceremony at a CIA facility—but the agency, taking what it believed to be Trump's lead, barred him from even setting foot on CIA property. (Trump despises Clapper, and blames him for what Trump calls 'the Russia hoax,' among other slights against the president.) As Shane wrote: 'The upshot is that an octogenarian Air Force retiree who spent half a century in his nation's service was not allowed to attend a party for a dog he essentially donated to the government and named after his dead wife.'
Meanwhile, those still in government are being harassed and driven out of public service because of who they know—or even what they might be thinking. Over at the FBI, as I wrote earlier this month, Director Kash Patel is reportedly strapping people to polygraph machines to find out whether anyone is saying bad things about him. Michael Feinberg, a senior FBI counterintelligence agent, was told that he could accept a demotion or resign because of his friendship with Peter Strzok, an agent fired years ago who has long been an object of Trump's wrath.
Now Trump wants to fire Fed Chairman Jerome Powell because Powell refuses to lower interest rates and make Trump's economy look better than it is. (Inflation and joblessness are both rising.) Trump can't summarily fire Powell, but the president is taking the Fed chair's opposition so personally that he is already ginning up a baseless accusation that Powell is somehow guilty of malfeasance on a building project, on the theory that it might be the kind of misconduct that would allow Trump to remove him.
Even on matters of grave international importance, Trump governs by emotion rather than any coherent sense of policy. A few weeks ago, the president seemed to change course on the war in Ukraine. He said he would allow arms shipments to continue, and promised last week to have advanced systems such as Patriot missile batteries sent to Ukraine. Trump's own Defense Department was caught flat-footed after repeatedly putting a stop to those shipments. (After all, Trump and Vice President J. D. Vance seemed to be on Vladimir Putin's side after they engaged in an unseemly—and yes, petty— ambush of Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky in the White House this past winter.)
But Putin had finally done something worse than murdering thousands of Ukrainian civilians and kidnapping Ukrainian children: He had made Donald Trump look like a chump. Putin refused to help Trump fulfill an unwise campaign promise by acceding to a cease-fire. Instead, the Russian president has unleashed some of the most violent attacks of the war, a raised middle finger to the White House and its chief occupant.
You can do a lot of bad things around Trump. You can ignore court orders. You can deport people without due process. You can let Ukrainian rivers fill with the blood of innocent people. But when you make Trump look weak or stupid, you've gone too far.
Trump's promises on Ukraine might amount to very little. Emotional reactions pass quickly, and Trump's attention span is measured in milliseconds; he flip-flops on everything from trade to friendships. So far, some shipments to Ukraine have resumed, but Trump has also offered Putin a respite of 50 days to come to the table—which would be just about the number of days left of good weather for military operations. ('Fifty days' could also be just another version of the way Trump uses 'two weeks' to punt issues that he doesn't want to deal with further downstream.)
Now Trump's attention seems to be on strong-arming the Washington Commanders and Cleveland Guardians football and baseball teams into reclaiming their old names, the Redskins and the Indians. It's possible that Trump is responding to some hidden groundswell of nostalgia. He's also not the first president to get fired up about Washington's home team: Obama was clearly interested in getting rid of the Redskins name, and undoing anything Obama did is something of a Trumpian rule.
More likely, however, Trump is focusing on this small issue in the hopes of picking a racist scab that will occupy the attention of his base—because much of that base right now is deeply angry about a supposed cover-up relating to Trump's former friend and the convicted sex offender, Jeffrey Epstein.
Yet again, when trying to throw red meat to the faithful, Trump picked something small and silly. Trump rules by appeals to grievances—rather than focusing on substantive national problems—because at least some of the MAGA movement revels in that kind of cruelty. This culture-warring behavior helped get him elected, and Trump's voters have been willing to join him on these capricious roller-coaster rides for the first six months of his second term. But roller coasters don't have actual destinations, and sooner or later, even the most dedicated riders will want to get off.
Here are three new stories from The Atlantic:
Today's News
The Pentagon is starting to pull out 700 Marines who were sent to Los Angeles last month, as President Donald Trump's military deployment to the city winds down.
A federal judge appeared to be leaning in favor of Harvard University during today's hearing over Harvard's lawsuit claiming that the Trump administration moved to cut its federal research funding to the university for political reasons.
The Justice Department confirmed to Fox News that it has received a criminal referral from Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard, who alleges that Obama administration officials 'manufactured and politicized intelligence' about Russia's interference in the 2016 election.
Dispatches
Evening Read
Should You Sunscreen Your Cat?
By Katherine J. Wu
For all of the eons that animal life has existed on Earth, the sun has been there too. And for all of those eons, animal life has had only one solution for intense exposure to the sun: evolution. Some creatures have thick, dark skin that's resistant to UV harm; others sprout fur, scales, or feathers that block the sun's rays. Many fish, reptiles, amphibians, and birds may produce a compound that protects their cells against the sun's damaging effects. Hippos, weirdly, ooze a reddish, mucus-y liquid from their pores that absorbs light before it can destroy their skin. And plenty of creatures have evolved behaviors that take advantage of their environment—rolling around in dirt or mud, simply retreating into the shade.
But certain modern animals have sun problems that natural selection can't easily solve.
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