We shouldn’t have been surprised when, on the day before Donald Trump was scheduled to fly to Quebec for the G-7 Summit, the White House floated the possibility that he might not go at all. It was, of course, a trial balloon sent up to test how the public—or, better, his 32% base of aggrieved white people—would respond if he were to be a no-show at this gathering of some of our oldest allies and/or biggest trading partners. The “base”—along with the amateurs, poseurs, grifters and media hangers-on who populate the White House precincts and provide a steady, 24/7 diet of groveling approval to the president’s fragile ego—would no doubt have given him a standing ovation for his “America First” (which, interpreted per this administration’s policies, more closely resembles “America Alone”) tendencies. Fortunately, there are a few fact-based, reality-based professionals—an “endangered species” in this administration—left who convinced him that not attending was not an option.
Or, perhaps, unfortunately. We—as well as our gathered allies and trading partners—might have been better off had he not attended.
It was clear from his pre-summit tweets that the first Juvenile President in American history was not planning to “play nice” with our country’s best friends from around the globe. And his presidential pout/petulance was on full display when he was a conspicuously late arrival on Friday evening, a conspicuously late arrival for a working breakfast on Saturday morning and a conspicuously early departer at midday on Saturday—skipping Saturday afternoon’s plenary session, during which the group was scheduled to discuss such, uh, insignificant and irrelevant and low-impact issues as the Paris Climate Accord, Gender Equality and the Iran Nuclear Deal. All together now, in unison: Classic Passive-Aggressive!
Why the reluctance of this president to “play nice” or, God forbid, actually participate in what became the G6+1 Summit? What’s up with the presidential pout? The presidential petulance?
Easy.
Donald Trump was afraid.
Or, as my cousins who populate and farm the deeps of the South Carolina coastal plain might put it, he was “skeered.”
Trump likes to project the image of a Tough Guy, a Strongman Autocrat whose “deal-making” abilities are superior to anyone on the planet. But he does so from the safety of his lonely White House bedroom where, pathetically, his bully-pulpit is a cell phone and a twitter feed. Or, from the safety of one of his adulation fests where committed, servile mobs wearing “Hillary Is A C**t” t-shirts (they don’t use the asterisks) gather to listen and applaud and cheer his lie-filled rally-rants against…
(1) “the Fake News media,”
(2) “the Failing New York Times,”
(3) “Amazon’s sweetheart deal with the USPS” (read, “the Washington Post and, by extension, Jeff Bezos”),
(4) “Crooked Hillary” (Trump has been a principal in over 3,500 litigations, Ms. Clinton has never been a principal in a court action save those in which she served as counsel for a litigant),
(5) “Lyin’ Jim Comey,”
(6) “the Mueller Witch Hunt/Hoax,”
(7) “Mueller’s thirteen angry Democrats,”
(8) “Turncoat John McCain,”
(9) the “sons-of-bitches who should be fired” from their NFL teams” for “disrespecting The Flag,” “disrespecting The National Anthem,” “disrespecting our Mighty Military,” “disrespecting our Veterans,” and “disrespecting Mom, Apple-Pie, Christmas and the Easter Bunny” when they #TakeAKnee,
(10) immigrants from “s**thole countries” as opposed to, uh, Norway,
(11) and the Democrats who should be “charged with treason (aww, why not?)” for not giving him standing ovations when he so poorly/stiffly read from the teleprompter the applause-lines his speechwriters wrote into his first State of the Union address this past January. Apparently he has not been briefed on the fact that his new Bestie—the murderous North Korean punk/dictator, Kim Jong Un—had one of his generals executed for not applauding one of his speeches with, well, “appropriate vigor.” And his critique of Democrats not applauding him with, well, “appropriate vigor” also provides a bit of context to his almost wistful observation that, when Kim Jong Un speaks, “his people sit up and pay attention.” That followed by some really scary wishful thinking: “I wish ‘my people’ did the same.” [MEMO TO THE #EMPERORWANNABE: Americans are not “your people.” There may well be some who get up each morning and drink the Kool-Aid that renders them far more loyal to you than they are to our country—I’ll let you claim them as “yours.” But, anyone who is more concerned about protecting you than protecting our country is a cultist, not a patriot. The vast, vast majority of us pledge our allegiance not to you but “to the Republic for which [the Flag] stands.” Let me say it again: Americans are not “your people.”]
Little Big Man is accustomed to Cabinet meetings that more often resemble worship services than the serious policy/action gatherings of previous presidents. The televised versions have been characterized not by a measured, calibrated exchange of and debate over differing policy opinions but by the highest-ranking members of the Executive Branch bowing, scraping and generally debasing themselves—in the instance of Mike Pence, humiliating himself—as they praise the Dear Leader. And Trump has shown an unnerving appreciation and equally unnerving fondness for foreign leaders who relentlessly fete him when he visits—offering puke-inducing praise, projecting his multi-colored image on the largest buildings of their capital cities, putting on fireworks shows in his honor, inviting him to “review the troops” when they hold military parades (thanks a lot, Emmanuel Macron!) and, in general, conning him into believing that they really consider him to be #The Man. Think, Saudi Arabia. Think, the glowing orb. Think, the sword dance.
But he knew that wasn’t the kind of welcome awaiting him at the historic Le Manoir Richelieu that grandly looks down on the St. Lawrence River as it pursues its course through the magnificent landscapes of Charlevoix, Quebec.
This president is beginning to realize, to his surprise and perhaps horror, that most members of the international governance community—allies and adversaries alike—have long had his number. These are highly-intelligent, highly-sophisticated and highly-experienced “deal-makers” who have done their “deals” on a stage far larger and far more significant than an office in Trump Tower or the Boardwalk of Atlantic City. They know a Carnival Barker when they see one and, unlike Trump’s visceral, reflexive base, are most definitely not given to suffering gladly the pitch of a snake-oil salesman. Neither a lot of time nor candlepower was required for them to size up Donald Trump as a rank amateur relative to deal-making beyond his world of New York and Florida construction/real-estate grifting.
Worse, he knew that his recent blustering, bloviating and intentionally confrontational comments/tweets/threats per trade policy had not gone over well with the allies and trading partners who would be attending the G-7. Needless to say, Trump was uncomfortable-to-the-max with the idea that he would be met by a room full of serious world leaders who owe him nothing, see him for who/what he is and are more than willing to respond to his Big Bully act by, in the vernacular, giving him a piece of their own minds.
He would not be in the safe confines of the gaudy Main Ballroom at Mar-a-Lago. Nor would he be in the safe company of the sycophantic, rich swells who hang out at Mar-a-Lago and to whom he has delivered 83% of the benefits of what he has falsely claimed to be “the biggest tax cut in history” and what he falsely claimed would be “tax cuts for the middle class that won’t make rich people a penny richer.”
Instead, he would be in unfamiliar surroundings. He would not be The Main Attraction but one player among several. And he would be surrounded by men and women whose heft doesn’t owe to money but to history and power. He would be surrounded by men and women who are not only his equals but arguably more-than-his-equals—possessed of more intelligence, more savvy and far, far more knowledge of the complexity and nuance of foreign policy and trade. Most threatening to Trump, however, was the fact that he would be surrounded by men and women who, having grown weary of Trump’s incessant attacks and lectures, would have no qualms about holding The Troll-In-Chief accountable for his embarrassing twitter habits. And, as we know all too well, The Donald doesn’t like being held accountable—for anything.
Hence, he was “skeered.” And “got out of town,” so to speak, as quickly as he could, claiming that his early departure would give him more time to, uh, “study up” for his imminent summit with Kim Jong Un of North Korea.
The world laughed.
I mean, Donald Trump “studying up” for something? The man doesn’t read and has the attention span of a mosquito.
The world laughed even harder when it was revealed that, upon reaching Singapore, he wanted to “move up a day” his scheduled summit with the North Korean Pariah because he was “bored.” Wait, Donald, we thought you left the G-7 early because you needed time to “study up” for your Extended Photo-Op with your new Bestie. Wasn’t that the reason given us by your honest-to-a-fault press office?
People, Donald Trump is not #The Man. He’s not Tough. He’s a criticism-averse, thin-skinned Faux Bully, a Lion with no Teeth, just another Internet Troll too cowardly to say face-to-face what, hidden behind closed bedroom curtains, he uses his tiny fingers to tap out on Twitter. He’s the “400 pound guy” with incoherent hair, orange skin, a poorly tied tie, a suit coat he can’t button up because he’s so porked up, “sitting on his bed” trying to undo the democratic norms upon which our country is built, splinter the Western Alliance so his autocratic faves will give him a seat at their table, and essentially change the world for the worse via the web.
The President of the United States is nothing but a damned #Snowflake.