“I‘m the law and order candidate,” Donald Trump told us recently, and he may even believe it, but the truth is of course that he’s not. No one who believes in law and order would use a political rally to rail at the ‘Mexican judge’ (born in Indiana) who was presiding over his trial for fraud regarding Trump University, in the mistaken idea that the boos of a partisan audience would impel the said judge to back down. “We need a strong leader” ran one of his ads, which is certainly accurate, but the fact is that’s not what he is.
The one strong thing he has is the strength of his insults, as in all other ways he seems a small, shaky person shielded by luck from life’s major challenges, and undisposed to seek risk on his own. A millionaire’s son, who began his career in the family business, he needed no strength to succeed, just adaptability, and was guaranteed a good hand in all confrontations, as he faced few foes he couldn’t vanquish by saying “you’re fired,” or buying them out.
George H.W. Bush joined the Navy the first day he was able (he was eighteen years old) and John Kennedy went shopping for a doctor who was willing to lie and aver he was fit to face combat. But Trump got five deferments in the Vietnam war era, some for bone spurs and other grave ailments, and then mocked John McCain’s five years spent in captivity, and suggested that he himself deserves a medal for not having gotten venereal ailments while on permanent shore leave at home.
He certainly never experienced anything such as FDR faced fighting polio, Ike faced planning D-Day, or even what a state governor faces with riots and hurricanes, much less what Nikki Haley (R-S.C.) confronted last year with the Confederate flag issue, the Charleston massacre, and a series of Biblical floods. In short, he has no proven record of strength whatsoever, and a very long record of going to pieces when hit with the least lethal form of incoming fire — criticism, either implied or straightforward, and mockery, expressed in words.
After he clinched the nomination in May, instead of uniting the party, he went off on a riotous grudge tour of the heartland, spewing abuse on all those who made him feel insufficiently valued, most of them people of note from within his own party, whose help he was certain to need before long.
“Trump’s cutting insults and simplistic attacks have been a hallmark of his candidacy, viewed by supporters that he is fearless and willing to attack institutions,” the Washington Post said in May. But it takes no strength, much less fearlessness, to hurl empty words at a crowd of besotted adorers, who shower him with the reassurance and feedback he needs to keep going so much. Meanwhile, he praises as his idea of strong people not democratic political leaders like Reagan and Roosevelt, but Vladimir Putin, Saddam Hussein and the people who committed the atrocities at Tiananmen Square.
It’s clear now that Trump really is a “cry bully,” a sensitive snowflake when it comes to himself, demanding “safe spaces” in which to nurture his feelings, but more than willing to throw things or shout down opponents, or to call for some “muscle” when dangers appear. When Trump says “strong,” ask yourself if you can think of one thing he has done in his life that fits this description. And base your judgment of him upon that.
Noemie Emery, a Washington Examiner columnist, is a contributing editor to The Weekly Standard and author of “Great Expectations: The Troubled Lives of Political Families.”
