That has the sound of autocracy, not democracy.
For the record, and in full disclosure: I wouldn't have stood and applauded for him, either. My guess is that must make me treasonous, too, in his mind.
Speaking officially for the White House, Sarah Sanders -- apparently in one of her more entertaining and effervescent moods -- provided follow-up and spin in response to justifiably astonished outrage by saying, in effect: What's wrong with you people? Can't you take a joke? Besides, the president didn't actually call anybody treasonous; he just mentioned that somebody else brought it up.
So, we are supposed to believe that Trump was just having some fun? He was joshin' us? Having failed to create a spirit of working bipartisanship and unity through his previous sober and measured pronouncements (perhaps in his mind, at least), he is now going to accomplish this through humor?
Let's take a look at what Trump said about the Democrats in attendance during his first SOTU; he started by saying
"They were like death and un-American. Un-American."That doesn't sound like the beginning of a joke. (How is "like death" funny?) Most Americans, I imagine, would take issue with being called "un-American." (I do.) Let's see if it got any better after the beginning (that sometimes happens with jokes).
"Somebody said 'treasonous.' I mean, Yeah, I guess, why not? Can we call that treason? Why not?"No improvement there. Maybe it's a setup for the punch line. Sure enough, the punch line came next:
"I mean they certainly didn't seem to love our country that much."Wow, rim shot, right?
Nope, what Trump said doesn't make it as a joke. Especially not if he was just repeating what "somebody" said because that makes him look uncertain and weak, not funny.
Unless. . .well, maybe Ms. Sanders was referring to Trump's own insistence that he is constantly misunderstood (at least by Democrats, the majority of the media, most American, most Britons, most Europeans, most Mexicans, most women, most Muslims, most . . .) and his statements should always be looked at as jokes, or at least we should consider them to be jokes first until somebody in the White House waves some sort of flag that says "Not a Joke."
If that's the case, then Trump could have spiced up his State of the Union speech with a selection from what must be a massive joke repertoire.
For example, he could have led with a barn-burner like "Isn't it great to be hearing about the state of the union from a president who was actually born in the United States instead of from Obama my predecessor who wasn't? Born in the U.S., that is. Born." (With his natural sense of timing, he would probably repeat some of the joke's words for greater effect.) Yes, absurdity sometimes makes for a really good joke, and you just can't beat something like that one for absurdity. "American carnage" might come close, but he would have to really massage that one to make it into a giggler.
Or he could have slipped in an unexpected short quickie for a big laugh. Something like "beautiful, clean coal." That would really bring the house down. (Oh, I see he tried it; didn't get a lot of laughs, did it? Well, maybe he has better luck next time.)
Perhaps a try at self-deprecating humor? Americans really like that in their elected leaders. If he had dug up one of those about how Hillary polled millions more votes than he did -- saying something like "great, really great, really honest and valid votes! But I won anyway!" -- he could have scored some points on that complaint of his about being misunderstood.
Or maybe a little poke at the recently-enacted income tax legislation, something like "I really wanted really huge tax changes that would make the rich and powerful like me pay more, but Congress slipped everything past me so that didn't happen, even though I'm a really stable genius! Gee, I guess that one's on me."
Having said that, Trump would have been on quite the roll, and -- if history is any guide, and it usually is -- he might have ad-libbed some sort of flub, something like "But you know what's hugely super? I don't have to worry about that tax audit any more since the IRS is loyal to me. To me! Loyal!"
Unfortunately, the truth of it is that Donald Trump is unique among modern presidents for his absence of public displays of humor of all styles. We have to take his words seriously, even when they seem outlandish, uninformed or just flat-out incorrect.
Whether one likes it or not, Trump is the president. His words -- spoken and written -- must be taken seriously.
But a little public humor -- respectful and without malice -- would help him to do a good job of being president.
Unfortunately, I do not think he is up to that challenge.
Public humor does not come easily to those who exploit the privileges conveyed upon them by the good fortune of being rich and powerful. It's happened before, during America's Gilded Age (the First Gilded Age?) of the late 19th century. It was a time of official preference for the privileged elitism of wealth, and for limited regulation of the power of big businesses. Many of the rich and powerful of the Gilded Age knew of little reason for public humor, and certainly not for humor of the self-deprecating variety, if only because it did not serve to further their goals of accumulating additional wealth and power.
However, there was humor at their expense. Some of the best came from Samuel Clemens.
American author, humorist, social observer and man-about-the-world Samuel Clemens -- perhaps better known as Mark Twain -- was intelligently critical of the rich and powerful of the Gilded Age. The term "Gilded Age" was first used as the title of an 1873 book co-authored by Clemens. As he traveled widely outside the borders of his native land he was noted for representing the American population as one where the humility, decency and common sense of the great majority would eventually prevail over the greed and self-interest of those among the rich and powerful who sought to selfishly exploit the nation's resources, human and natural, by using the privileges of their positions.
Writing about him shortly after his death, George Ade -- the American columnist, author and playwright of the early 20th century -- published his essay in the December 1910 issue of Century Magazine in which he said, in part:
. . .Mark Twain was probably the best of our emissaries. He never waved the starry banner and at the same time he never went around begging forgiveness. . .
There was no spectacle of a State of the Union speech during Clemens' time. However, if "(waving) a starry banner" can be equated to standing and applauding and cheering for such a speech nowadays -- and I believe it can -- then I am confident that Mark Twain, if present during such an affair, would remain firmly rooted to his chair for its duration, and would never beg forgiveness for doing so.
Would that make him "treasonous" in Trump's eyes? Apparently so.
Does the Trump presidency -- champion of much lower taxes for the very wealthy and powerful business interests; champion of increasing the power of those already powerful through regulatory laxity; apologist-in-chief for these actions by saying they are to be excused with the rationalization of a dribble-down benefit to all others -- intend for the United States to enter a new Gilded Age? I think so.
Does Donald Trump, as president of the United States, seem to equate disagreement with his ideas and policies as treasonous? Based on his own remarks, that looks to be the case.
Does Trump think that public criticism of him, whether from the media or elsewhere, should be abridged and curtailed? Since he has repeatedly spoken about changing "libel laws" so that he can sue those who criticize him, once again the answer has to be "yes."
Trump needs to be reminded that equating disagreement with a leader with treason is something that happens in monarchies and dictatorships. Such behavior is not part of a democracy.
I think that Mark Twain would say the same thing.
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