What story in classic literature best describes Donald J. Trump? Narcissus kneeling at the still pool captivated by the beauty of his own reflected image is a good answer. But Mr. Trump is never still, and he kneels to no one. He flies around the country to address huge rallies. The crowd is a moving mirror, and the pool is filled with toxicity. While this may seem fitting in an age of environmental disaster, the comparison with Narcissus is sullied.
Franz Kafka’s The Hunger Artist provides another insight on Mr. Trump. The viewer should turn off the sound at his rallies for the image to work. In the story a performer in a barred animal cage is a must see attraction for circus goers. Everyone knows him. Everyone goes to see him starve. He is famous for not eating. He must be very hungry. At the end, the hunger artist just dies, and the crowd is furious at him for abandoning them. I know the story might be read as mass blindness to poverty, or as insatiable emotional hunger by the enthralled, needful crowd. And, of course, Mr. Trump is wealthy, not poor. Nevertheless, the nourishment he gets from crowds never seems to satisfy. Happiness does not follow. He’s intoxicated with rallies, and needs them as much as the addict needs his drug. But Mr. Trump seems to be a lonely, emotionally-starved man.
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I overheard a girl ask her mother what Hillary Clinton’s email scandal was about. The mother said she didn’t really know. “How did it start?”, the girl persisted. “She used a computer server at home for the work she did while Secretary of State years ago.” “You use your computer at home, Mom,” the daughter noted. “I do homework on mine.” “We use email too.” “I know,” the mother said, “but there might have been national secrets on hers.” “Was she a spy or something?” “No.” “Has she been charged with a crime?” “No.” Do you think she committed a crime?” ”No.” “Mom, I think there are people out to get her.”
Out of the mouths of a teenager comes truth. The stone throwers are as naked as the emperor was observed to be by the observant child.
Without the Benghazi investigation and witch hunt there would be no server issue, and without the server there would be no email issue, and now without Anthony Weiner’s sexting sessions there would be no cache of new emails to tempt the Attorney General.
It is notable that no House of Representative committee chose to examine Colin Powell’s emails regarding his United Nations speech on Saddam’s nuclear weapons, a speech that employed “flawed intelligence” to justify invading Iraq. Powell used a private server, as have other secretaries. No one called for inspection of Caspar Weinberger and George Shultz,’s correspondence regarding the Iran-Contra affair or the barracks bombings that killed 220 marines and 21 sailors and soldiers in Beirut, Lebanon during the Reagan presidency. These Secretaries of State and Defense were men and Republicans. Hillary Clinton is a woman and a Democrat. That appears to be the key difference.
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Franz Kafka’s writings are pertinent as well in examining Hillary Clinton’s situation, and in understanding our experience of her situation as witnesses. The most resonant and instructive text— hands down—is his novel The Trial. In it “K,” the central character and narrator, senses from the ambiance of his surrounds that he is considered guilty of something, of have committed some offense, probably a crime, and that he is on the verge of being arrested and charged. He feels this wherever he goes— day and night—and whatever he is doing. He’s somehow on trial. Is this feeling warranted or is it paranoia? We don’t know, nor does he. One can’t tell. He is active though, and purposive; he tries to find out. He looks for signs. He asks questions. He goes to court. He seeks out legal help. No luck. He cannot find the accuser, fill in the specifics of his case, know the charge, discover whether and when he’ll be indicted, identify the court and court date, or figure out how to mount a defense. In the end he never does find out. The verdict against him is just revealed one day.
Incredibly, This is the situation Hillary Clinton’s finds herself in today and will find herself in on Jan. 20, 2017, the day when she could be inaugurated as the 45th President of the United States of America.
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I suspect that voters, at least some male voters, many of whom will be voting for Donald Trump, are bored with their country and with politics. They may care intensely about the horse race aspect of the election, and perhaps care about the opinions of commenters on their favorite T.V. network. But they don’t seem to know or care much about history, the Constitution, world affairs, complex issues, or the plight of less fortunate countrymen. The majority may not even care about actual issues. Yet, they are angry! They appear to care most about their personal resentments, preferences, tastes, desires, opinions, and team affiliations. The election is about them, their wants, their hated enemies, and their favorite team. They are rabid fans. They just want to win, and baby, they had better win! They think they deserve it.
Will Callender, Jr. ©
November 2, 2016
Author of Abdication: God Steps Down for Good