The president cares about his image. That’s pretty
much it.
By
Senior critic-at-large
Oct. 5, 2020 at 5:38 p.m. CDT
President
Trump walked out of the double brass doors at Walter Reed National Military
Medical Center wearing a disposable mask and surrounded by security. He paused
for the cameras. He gave a thumbs-up for the benefit of the pictures. And he
climbed aboard Marine One.
And
when he arrived at the White House, he walked up the steps, stood in front of
four American flags. And removed his mask. He removed his mask in a show of
what? Ego. Recklessness. Selfishness.
He is
still convalescing from covid-19, a highly unpredictable and deadly disease. He
remains contagious. His doctor has noted that he may not be “entirely out of
the woods.” And since he has been at Walter Reed, the White House has become a
coronavirus hot spot. Press secretary Kayleigh McEnany on Monday added her name
to the list of staff, residents and recent visitors who have tested positive in
the past week, which also includes the first lady.
But no
matter. Image is Donald Trump’s everything. Health — his, others', yours — be
damned.
Trump
announced his return in a victorious tweet in which he
described covid-19 as nothing to worry about despite the fact that more than
209,000 people have died in the United States. After receiving treatment
unavailable to the average American, he declared himself feeling better than he
did 20 years ago, as if he had just spent a few days at a spa: “Feeling really
good! Don’t be afraid of Covid. Don’t let it dominate your life. We have
developed, under the Trump Administration, some really great drugs &
knowledge. I feel better than I did 20 years ago!”
The
fact of his discharge was reiterated by his physician, Sean Conley, who in a
news conference said, “He’s back!” All that was missing was the roar of the
crowd.
Trump’s
response to his covid-19 diagnosis has reeked of disregard for human life. But
he has given his image loving, obsessive attention.
On
Sunday, the highly contagious commander in chief demanded that Secret Service
agents risk their own health to feed his hunger for adulation. He climbed into
the back of an SUV so he could ride by the crowd of supporters that had
assembled outside Walter Reed. Agents are well prepared to face the dangers
inherent in protecting the president. But requiring agents to seal themselves
inside a vehicle along with the president’s personal viral load simply because
he needed an ego boost should not be part of their job description.
The
sight of cheering crowds was the medicine Trump craved. He didn’t seem to
understand that what ails him cannot be cured with boisterous chants or
celebratory tweets.
But
Trump would not be denied. Yet the man who fancies himself the ultimate showman
has proved to be terrible at choreographing these bids for attention. His
law-and-order posturing in front of St. John’s Church this summer had him
looking like a confused would-be strongman manhandling a Bible. And over the
weekend, as Trump waved to his devoted followers from behind the tinted windows
of the black Chevy Suburban, he looked like the caged ringmaster in a circus of
his own creation.
He did
not look tough; he looked trapped.
He
looked desperate. He looked pathetic. He looked weak — not because he was ill
or because he was finally wearing a mask but because instead of doing the hard
work of accepting his own vulnerabilities in the face of sickness, he’d propped
himself up on the strength and professionalism of Secret Service agents.
Instead of focusing on the humbling task of getting better, he was consumed by
the desire to simply look good.
Trump
is 74 years old and obese, both of which are significant risk factors. He was
at one point on supplemental oxygen and is now on multiple therapies as doctors
try to see him through a deadly illness with unknown dangers at every turn. But
when he left the hospital for that publicity jaunt, he thought it was a great
idea and so did his supporters.
It
would seem that they care for him about as much as Trump’s past actions —
notably hosting a Rose Garden reception for
judge Amy Coney Barrett during which few people wore masks and at least eight
attendees later tested positive for the coronavirus — suggest he cares for
others.
Trump’s
callous dismissal of human life is reflected back by many of his supporters.
They can stand and applaud his motorcade with little thought to how dangerous
it is for everyone involved in it — including the very person they’re cheering.
The
entire escapade was so unnecessary. It was not about expressing gratitude. It
was the action of an addict who needed a hit of public praise. Before the
president set off on his short road trip, he’d already expressed his thanks to
supporters and world leaders for their well wishes in multiple soft-focus
videos. (No, he didn’t wear a mask — if only to serve as a visual statement of
regret for not having been more conscientious earlier.) The White House had
already released photographs of the president out of bed and sitting at a table
covered with small stacks of paper. At the very least, Trump was working hard
at pretending to be hard at work.
But
neither the videos nor the photographs could give Trump adulation.
So off
he went. Why would anyone try to stop him? The president has surrounded himself
with a host of people who acquiesce to his every whim. He is their means to an
end, whether it be a paycheck or a place in the history books. They may be true
believers in his politics; they may bathe in the sea of grievance he has
unleashed. But they are invested in the character he has created. Everything is
in service to it. He has crafted an image of himself as infallible and
invincible. And he is abetted by a doctor who publicly describes Trump’s
progress through covid-19 as though he is recounting the legend of Superman.
In this
White House, there are few candid, behind-the-scenes photographs of Trump in
the residence or in the Oval Office. There are few images that remind the
public that while he may be an inordinately confident man, he is, nonetheless,
just a man. His supporters bear placards suggesting he has been sent by God. He
does all that he can to invest himself with lordly power — from affixing his
signature to stimulus checks to declaring that he alone is the fixer of what
troubles America.
Trump
has surrounded himself with people who have put their faith in his image. They
minister to it and worship it. The man himself, as witnessed by his own deeds,
is expendable.
