The trouble with Trump Derangement Syndrome, as it’s called, is that the paranoias keeps coming true. Somewhere in Trump’s first term, it became a catch-all for anybody who (correctly) identified that Trump’s interest in law and constitutionality was casual, at best.
T.D.S. is proving to have been an accurate radar for what’s happening now, and those of us who were accused of it have not forgotten.
But to people who are fanatical for Trump and his (as they see it) policy successes, it remains an incomprehensible delusion.
I will attempt to explain it to them as though they were five.
You know how when you were a kid and you were caught doing something wrong? What’s your first instinct?
To talk. A lot. To say anything and everything to keep the blame from attaching to you.
And your parents, listening, might believe (some of) it: “So you say you were building clean water systems in Guyana when the lamp was broken? At the age of seven? You must be amazing!”
And of course you will gladly accept “You are amazing” instead of “You’re grounded for playing baseball in the house.” So you smile and nod, and if you’re smart, you shut up then and there.
Because if you don’t shut up, you might find yourself faced with this question: “So wait, were you building water-systems in Guyana or hosting a charity ball for orphaned puppies in Berlin? You cannot have been in both places when the lamp was broken. Explain.”
So you talk faster, with the hoped-for result: “You are truly amazing to have done all of that in the time that it takes to break a lamp with a baseball! I still wonder, though, who broke this lamp with a baseball?”
And of course your explanation will make matters infinitely worse if they do not believe you and infinitely better if they do.
But what’s very unlikely is that you will confess, “Mom? Dad? I was not in fact building a water-system in Guyana, and I did not host a charity ball. In fact I was playing baseball in the living room. I am sorry.”
Trump is a person who plays baseball in the house, and he sometimes hits home runs, but he’s still playing baseball in the house. And he talks. A lot. Mostly about why he’s not playing baseball in the house but instead building clean water-systems in Guyana. And at the same time hosting charity balls in Berlin.
And one thing you will never hear him say is, “I am sorry.” You can catch him in ten lies and he will not apologize for even one. He will explain to you why he’s not lying, but rather you are somehow deranged.
Naturally, everybody knows that politicians lie.
But this is a little different. This isn’t lying merely to cover up an important and inconvenient fact. It’s not merely lying to cloud the essential issue: he has been playing baseball in the house.
It attempts to make you the crazy one for pointing out that he is lying. In other words, it is designed to undermine your faith in truth itself, not merely your understanding of the truth. Imagine a parent, confronting a child over a broken lamp: “I didn’t do anything wrong! I was in Guyana building clean water systems!” And the parent thinks, “I can’t think how that could be true, but it must be, because he said it. Still, I wonder who broke the lamp. I suppose there’s really no way at all to tell.”
And of course that makes it impossible to tell what the truth is. Trump may spout ten things, all of them highly credible to himself, but you will never be able to sort out which, if any, of them are true, and trying to find out will mean you never find this out: he was playing baseball in the house.
“I can do what I want because of the immigrant crime wave!” he has said. There is no immigrant crime wave. But of course we give him whatever powers he wants because he promises to stop it.
“Foreign countries pay for tariffs!” he has announced. No matter how many economists (and importers) tell him that this is not true, he is persuaded it is because it keeps money (but not wealth) in the United States. When you grow up, you can read Adam Smith’s excellent book An Inquiry Into the Nature and Causes of The Wealth of Nations, especially Book IV, and you will begin to learn that the economists are right and the President is wrong. But what is important is not that he is wrong: it’s important that he keeps explaining why he is not wrong, even though the lamp, the baseball, and the lies are evident in the room.
“There is an invasion at the Southern Border!” he says. There is no invasion at the Southern border, and even if there were, that’s no excuse to let him play baseball in the house. It is true that U.S. immigration policy requires addressing. But if you do it by ignoring the baseball in the house, you’re joining a chorus of people who think a non-existent invasion is much more important than not playing baseball in the house.
“The 2020 election was stolen from me!” he says. The election was not stolen. But he must be allowed to “reform” elections because he said so.
You see how this works? You’re asking the wrong questions: you keep asking, “Oh, is there a crime wave? Should we do something about it?” He’s glad you asked: because redirecting your attention is how he operates. It’s a huckster move, one we’ve all played, but as children. He’s doing it at a high level, but it’s still what he’s doing.
Trump Derangement Syndrome, as it’s been called, is merely the act of saying, He’s been playing baseball in the house.
