There are some singular moments in life. I will always remember where I was when I heard the news. I get a text from a friend saying they called Pennsylvania.
I just woke up to President-Elect Trump. Now I can’t get back to sleep.
My first instinct was to open my bedroom door. My cat sleeps outside in the hallway. I get under the covers and hide in my bed, snuggling with my kitty. Such traumatic events spur these desires.
The cat is with me as I begin to write. I feel stronger. Loved. Let’s go with that strength. Alright. My thoughts.
First of all, he won. He is our President. I will stand when he enters the room. I will call him, “Mr. President”. The strongest thing we can do to resist his rule is respect his office. As Major Winters says to Captain Sobel at the end of Band of Brothers, “You salute the rank, not the man”.
#Winters2020
As I said at the beginning of this nightmare back in May, I will wear a White Rose as a lapel pin, just under the American Flag. That says to the world, and my President, “I respect your office. I respect your authority. But I will work, publicly, to peacefully remove you from office in the next election. I will resist you with every fiber of my being. That is my right as an American. And you have to respect that as the leader of this Republic.”
The minute this fundamental First Amendment right is taken away, we no longer have a Republic.
To Trump supporters, and President-Elect Trump himself, if you don’t like what I say, and what I will say, over the next 4-8 years, remember what was said about President Obama. As much as I opposed many of his policies, I respected him for staying above the fray while millions said the most horrific racial slurs and outright lies against his person and even his family. He was called a traitor, un-American, a coward, and a terrorist.
Yet he continued to serve you-the American people. Because he respected the Republic. He respected your right to say those horrific things. Even when they were directed at the Commander-in-Chief of America’s military and Head-of-State and representative of our nation abroad.
To the people who voted for Donald Trump and don’t appreciate my criticism-you cannot call for my imprisonment or advocate physical harm. That is the epitome of hypocrisy. I suggest that you and President-Elect Trump should look to President Obama for examples of what thick skin and dignified leadership look like.
I hope that President-Elect Trump really does lead the country to an era of prosperity and peace. As a citizen, I never root against my nation. I hope he also recognizes that America is already great. I hope he doesn’t degrade its capacity for being good. Central to that goodness is defending the rights of the minority, empowering the oppressed, and lifting up ALL voices, even those raised in resistance to your policies.
As long as President Trump remains in the Oval Office, the Rose will remain on my lapel.
Should I be punished by the government for this lawful exercise of free speech, that will serve as evidence that our democratic pillars are being eroded by the menace of authoritarian rule. That should alarm all Americans, regardless of whom they chose in the voting booth. I hope it doesn’t come to that, but I do not shy away from that responsibility to stay firm in my principles. My mother raised a stubborn child.
To President-Elect Trump and his supporters, I offer my congratulations and best wishes for a prosperous and peaceful future.
To those who, like me, are alarmed at this man’s election- I invite you to join me. The Resistance begins today.
If this is what the Republican Party represents, I want no part of it. If there is room in the Democratic tent for a Romney Republican, I’ll consider going blue. For the moment, I’m a renegade Federalist in opposition to the rule of a man unfit for duty as representative of our nation.
Buckle up. It’s going to be a long four years. The fight for 2020 starts now.
That might come as a surprise to many American viewers. After all, this is a candidate who launched a press conference ambush against the media at Trump Tower in late May, hurling broadsides at reporters who questioned the specifics of his donations to veterans’ groups. He frequently uses the term “dishonest” when referring to the media, and has taken to calling CNN the “Clinton News Network”.
They came to cover a story. Journalists would soon discover they were both THE story and the enemy.
But he doesn’t hate everyone.
During the primary campaign, he appeared on Sean Hannity’s television program 41 times, often for the entire hour. That’s not even counting the dozens of times he called in as a guest on Hannity’s popular afternoon radio program. Hannity’s softball questions painted Trump in a favorable light, and constituted a good chunk of the $2 billion of free coverage Trump received during the primary campaign.
BFFs forever. Thumbs up for propaganda.
Trump only follows 43 people on Twitter. The Wall Street Journal, New York Times, Washington Post, The Guardian, The Economist, CNN and BBC are not among them. Neither is a single member of Congress. Mike Pence became the first governor followed by Trump only after he was named his vice presidential nominee.
Sean Hannity is on that exclusive list.
How does Trump choose his favored media outlets? Excellence in Journalism? Award-winning coverage of major events?
No. Loyalty.
Loyalty is the central method Trump uses to determine the worth of a news network, newspaper, or journalist. In Trump’s transactional world, loyalty means dominion. You serve Trump’s purpose, you’re rewarded. You dare to stand against him, you’re branded as disloyal.
After Tony Schwartz, ghostwriter of Trump’s memoir The Art of the Deal, criticized Trump’s temperament and capacity to serve as President, Trump immediately responded with threats of litigation and demands for the return of all royalties Schwartz earned from the book. Schwartz stated, “It is axiomatic that when Trump feels attacked, he will strike back. That’s precisely what’s so frightening about his becoming president.”
Google searches will reveal other entities and persons branded with the “disloyal” label by Mr. Trump, including Macy’s, Speaker Paul Ryan, John McCain, Mitt Romney, Megyn Kelly and the Washington Post.
Trump went so far as to revoke the Post’s press credentials, calling the flagship news outlet of the nation’s capital, “phony and dishonest”. Such an action was a logical extension of his attitude toward the media. Earlier in the campaign, he promised to roll back libel laws, effectively eroding the fabric of 1st Amendment freedoms.
We’ve seen such animosity toward a critical press before. In 1798, President John Adams signed the Alien and Sedition Acts, which extended residency requirements for citizenship from 5 to 14 years, expanded the President’s power to deport or arrest foreign nationals living in the country, and criminalized “false, scandalous and malicious writing” about the U.S. government.
John Adams-Silences critical journalists. Grows sweet sideburns.
Given Mr. Trump’s animosity toward Mexicans and Muslims, along with the mainstream media, is it far-fetched to predict that a revised 2016 version of the Alien and Sedition Acts would be on Trump’s agenda for his first 100 days in office?
Trump’s beliefs about the purpose of the media are more dangerous than those of John Adams. Adams signed the Acts under strong pressure from his party as well as his own wife. He considered them necessary war measures during a time when tension with France was at a peak.
Mr. Trump, on the contrary, wants power to strike back against perceived slights. He lashed out with attacks on Megyn Kelly following the first primary debate in August. Trump’s criticism unleashed online abuse of the journalist from his millions of supporters, and prompted Time to characterize Trump’s behavior as “relentless misogynistic abuse of a high-profile woman doing her job”.
Given Trump the Candidate’s treatment of journalists, it is logical to assume that Trump the President would cause lasting damage to the First Amendment on a level not seen since the Adams administration.
Trump is the ultimate transactional leader. He is generous to sycophants and ruthlessly retaliates against those who oppose him publicly. He doesn’t desire service, he demands servitude. He requires fealty while suppressing freedom. His brand of loyalty resembles that of a medieval lord, not the nominee of a party built on the principles of limited government and liberty. Loyalists like Hannity are granted the keys to the kingdom, while dissidents who demand journalistic integrity are cast outside the city walls.
Freedom of the press is a bedrock of the American Republic. The path to authoritarianism requires the erosion of this essential right. In Trump’s American fiefdom, writers will have the choice of becoming servile subjects or living as outcasts.
When freedom is as fragile as a public figure’s reaction to a story, it is at risk of being snuffed out forever.
Even in the event of Trump’s election, I would rather stand as an outcast than kneel like Sean Hannity. Freedom is too precious to sacrifice on the altar of servitude.
The 2016 Republican Primaries, Depicted as Karaoke Night at a Bar
8:00PM
I arrive at The Happy Elephant. Normally, this bar serves an older clientele. Management has been trying to get a younger, more diverse crowd to frequent the establishment, but their efforts haven’t been successful. Reince Priebus, the owner, greets me as I walk in the door. I’ve been coming here since I was 18. Reince pours me a Lagavulin 16, neat. I sit at the last open seat at the bar.
Reince the Bartender/Owner is excited for a great night with 16 talented singers.
“Pretty crowded in here, Reince,” I say, taking a sip of the smoky whisky.
“I know!” he says excitedly. “We’re having a karaoke contest, starting in a half hour. Advertised the hell out of it on CNN, Fox, and social media.”
I like karaoke. Nothing gets people in a good mood like music and booze. The only way karaoke sucks is if the same couple of losers sing the same boring songs over and over and over again.
“Who’s signed up?” I ask, somewhat nervously. “Is Mitt coming?”
Reince dismisses the thought with a wave of his hand. “Naw. No one wants to hear that guy anymore. Jeb convinced him not to come. He’ll probably win but we have a lot of great singers on the list. I’m pumped up!”
I look at the singer list. Jeb Bush, Scott Walker, John Kasich, Marco Rubio, Ted Cruz…there’s a lot of talent on this program.
“Good work,” I tell Reince. “Maybe you’ll finally get young people and minorities to come here instead of the Jolly Jackass across the street.”
Reince frowns. He pours himself a shot of bourbon, slamming it back. “Damn that bar. They have terrible management but people keep going there. Not this year, buddy.”
8:15PM
Donald Trump strolls into the bar. Reince directs him to the VIP area. Trump shakes his head. He cuts the velvet red barrier between VIP and the rest of the bar, and pushes his table to the middle of the floor. He puts the chair on top of the table and sits on it. Some rough people come in with Trump and sit around him. They make me nervous, and a lot of the older regulars glance over at them with disapproving looks. Some are wearing confederate flag shirts, and a few are sporting swastika tattoos. I think I hear some slurs being tossed around in casual conversation.
Reince comes back behind the bar.
“Umm, Reince?” I begin slowly. I nod in the direction of Trump’s gang. “Who are those guys?”
Reince smirks. “That’s just Trump and some of his fans.”
“Will he be staying long?” I ask. “You’re going to have a hard time getting a more diverse crowd in here if they have to walk past the SS and Nathan Bedford Forrest’s cavalry division.”
Reince laughs. “Don’t worry. Trump can’t sing. They’ll be out of here in less than an hour.”
A man smelling heavily of marijuana gets up from his seat.
“Going somewhere, Gary?” asks Reince.
“Yeah, man,” replies Governor Gary Johnson. “I’m going to No Rulz, the Libertarian bar down the road. You guys should come with me.”
“That’s ok,” I answer. “I want to see how this turns out.”
“Your loss. At the end of the day, you have to stand for your principles. Trump and those guys are bad for this bar and bad for America.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a little overdramatic?” asks Reince.
“You watch. This will become a Trump bar if you’re not careful.”
Johnson leaves, glaring at Trump on the way out the door.
8:30PM
Rick Perry comes into the main room to announce he is dropping out of the karaoke contest. I didn’t even hear him sing a song.
“What’s up with that?” I ask.
“Oh, we have Huckabee, Jindal, Pataki, some lady named Carly, Perry, Graham, and Rick Santorum singing in the basement,” Reince answers.
“Why?” I respond.
“Can’t have everyone in the main room. It’s already crowded as hell. I’m thinking about sending Kasich and Rand Paul down there, too.”
Scott Walker takes the stage. Everyone is pumped up to hear him sing. He’s one of the favorites to win it all. The Fox News Karaoke Crew puts on his chosen track, Born in the USA. Chris Christie slams down his PBR at the other end of the bar and says he’s the only one who’s allowed to sing Springsteen.
Walker misses the cue to start singing. He comes in, off-key, a measure too late. He turns and looks pleadingly at Megyn Kelly. “Can you guys start this thing over?”
Charles Krauthammer shakes his head somberly.
“The hell with it. I quit,” Walker responds, leaving the bar in a huff. Some of the older regulars gather around Jeb Bush, patting him on the back. “You got it in the bag, Jeb!” I hear one say. Jeb nods. He doesn’t look like he wants to sing at all.
9:00PM
An excited crowd comes upstairs, bringing Carly Fiorina with them. “This woman can sing!” a man in the crowd yells. She gets on-stage, performing a spirited rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s Never Break the Chain. Crowd goes nuts. Trump looks annoyed.
9:15PM
Trump sings an off-key arrangement of Pink Floyd’s Another Brick in the Wall. He switches the words to insult Mexicans and sings about putting up a wall on the southern border. His supporters love it. It confuses most of the regulars at the bar.
9:30PM
The rest of the basement crowd come upstairs. They’ve all dropped out, except Rick Santorum, who’s still singing alone in the basement. He’s singing the same songs he sang in 2012, but no one likes Creed anymore. I decide to take this opportunity to use the restroom before Jeb Bush gets on stage.
Jim Gilmore is sitting on the bathroom counter singing One is the Lonliest Number by Three Dog Night. On my way out, I tell him that the contest is going on outside. He tells me he’s entered it, but prefers to do it his own way. I shrug. I find out later that 12 people voted for him.
9:45PM
Jeb Bush takes the stage. Megyn Kelly fires up Family Tradition by Hank Williams, Jr. He gets through a verse, but is clearly uncomfortable on stage. Trump starts booing him. “Low Energy!” he shouts. Members of Trump’s entourage throw beer bottles and popcorn at Bush. His mom, dad, and brother join him on-stage for the final chorus, but I can’t even hear any of them by the end of the song. The crowd stares blankly at him.
“Please clap,” he pleads. Some of the regulars give him a tepid round of applause. He gets off stage and gets a big hug from Lindsey Graham. He withdraws his name from the competition. George W. Bush gives him a ride home.
10:00PM
Marco Rubio sings the same song as Bush, with much more enthusiasm. During the spoken interlude, he throws in some Spanish. At the end of the song, the regulars are excited about Marco. They invite him to sit at their table.
10:15PM
Ted Cruz sings a riveting version of Amazing Grace, then launches immediately into Proud to be an American. The designated drivers in the crowd compliment his voice and his spirit. A vocal section of the bar wants Cruz to win the contest. Donald Trump’s supporters mock him, singing O, Canada in response.
10:30PM
Dr. Ben Carson gets on-stage. No one knows what he’s singing. He’s chosen an obscure jazz track without words. He mumbles into the microphone. Krauthammer turns off his mic but Carson stands uncomfortably, muttering under his breath, until the entire 8 minute song is over.
Somehow, he gets selected to move onto the next round.
10:45PM
Marco Rubio gets up on stage again, before Rand Paul or John Kasich even have a chance to sing. He starts singing Family Tradition one more time. Chris Christie yells at him to get some new material. Rubio stubbornly persists. Christie storms onstage and takes his microphone. Rubio scurries away, furious.
Christie doesn’t try to continue the song, but just yells at the crowd about how Rubio sucks at singing. He slams down the mic and yells, “Vote for me!”
I order a double shot of Goldschlager. It’s going to be a bad night.
11:00PM
Rick Santorum arrives upstairs and announces he’s supporting Rubio. The crowd is confused. He straightens his sweater vest and sits at Trump’s table. Trump’s supporters look at him skeptically. One offers him a cigarette. He accepts, turning green as he tries to inhale. Trump and his gang laugh at him.
Reince glares at them. “This is a non-smoking bar!” he yells. No one listens to him.
He asks if I want to do another shot with him. I accept his offer. It’s on the house.
He walks to the regulars’ table, where they’re consoling Rubio. He tells them that it’s time to do something about Trump.
11:15PM
I take another bathroom break. I’ve been pounding PBRs and Goldschlager. A night that was supposed to be relaxed and classy has turned into a brawl. I see Trump and Rubio at the urinals, pointing at each other’s groin and arguing about who’s the bigger man. I turn around and walk out of the bathroom. I’ll wait.
11:30PM
Kasich finally gets to sing. He sings Buckeye Battle Cry, by the Ohio State University Marching Band. The Ohioans in the bar go crazy. He sings well. But he doesn’t know any other songs. He tries, Hang on Sloopy, but again, only the Ohioans like it.
12:00AM
As Ben Carson mumbles through another jazz song, Cruz and Trump supporters get in a bar fight. Kasich stands off to the side, saying things like this never happen in Ohio. Reince interrupts Carson’s song, saying that Trump’s people need to get behind Marco Rubio or John Kasich. Cruz slams his bottle of Aquafina on the ground and yells, “This establishment is corrupt!”
Trump’s people stop fighting and loudly profess their agreement. I order another round of PBR.
12:30AM
Carly Fiorina announces her support for Cruz. Everyone forgot she was in the contest and she was skipped on the rotation when it could have made a difference. But she’s trying to make a difference now.
I look around. The bar has changed a lot over the last several hours. Most of the regulars are hovering by the exit with John Kasich. The Happy Elephant is not very joyful. More Trump supporters have arrived every half-hour. Some of the regulars have even joined up with the rough crowd, yelling about Mexico and Muslims.
Scott Walker comes back into the bar and announces he’s supporting Ted Cruz. No one listens.
Trump struts on stage, his arm around Chris Christie’s shoulders. He nudges Christie.
Christie takes the mic. “You guys need to support Donald Trump!” he yells. Trump pats him on the back.
Carson raises his hand. “I’m still here, guys. Can we be civil please? Oh, and I guess I’m with Trump, too.”
1:00AM
Cruz and Fiorina try to sing a duet, Up Where We Belong, by Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes. But no one is listening. Trump refuses to sing on-stage if Megyn Kelly is at the karaoke machine, so he’s leading his supporters (along with Christie, Santorum and Carson) in enthusiastic renditions of German army songs. Carson asks if they could sing a different tune.
“What are you, a liberal?” sneers one of Trump’s supporters. They all laugh. Scott Walker shrugs and sits at Trump’s table.
1:30AM
The scene has become unbearable. Rubio got picked up by Jeb Bush a long time ago. He was sitting at the end of the bar by himself ever since Christie destroyed him on-stage. Kasich and Cruz left. Rand Paul climbs the stairs. No one was paying attention to him, so he smoked some marijuana with Lindsey Graham in the basement. The two of them chuckle on the way out.
Rand pats me on the shoulder. “Get out of here while you still can,” he says.
Bill Kristol and a few intellectuals sit in the corner, with a hastily constructed #NEVERTRUMP sign hanging off the table’s edge. He tries to hand out #NEVERTRUMP cocktail napkins to the crowd, but no one left but Trump supporters. He is called terrible names, and eventually sits back down.
“IS THERE ANYONE IN THIS BAR WHO CAN WIN THIS KARAOKE CONTEST?!” he shouts. No one responds.
Reince is sitting next to me. Trump supporters are serving themselves. He’s despondent, crying into his beer.
What happened, Reince?
“Reince,” I say, tapping him gently on the shoulder. “This is still your bar. You can get them out of here.”
“They’ve chosen Trump,” he slurs. “What more can I do?”
“Kick them out!” I say.
“No. The people have spoken,” he responds.
I look around. Anti-Semitic slogans are scrawled all over the walls. Racist propaganda is playing on the TV screens. Someone is handing out KKK flyers. Another is talking about giving nuclear weapons to Saudi Arabia. The contest is over, and Trump is standing alone on stage, forcing Krauthammer and Kelly to give him unfettered access to the microphone.
A night that had begun with so much promise has devolved into this nightmare. I shake Reince’s hand. “I’m out of here,” I tell him.
“Traitor,” he grumbles, taking another gulp of beer directly from the pitcher. I shake my head and walk to the exit.
“What are you, a liberal?” sneers a Trump supporter, blocking the door. I brush by him.
1:40AM
I take a deep breath outside, collecting my thoughts. My favorite bar has been turned into a refuge for barbarians. I look across the street at the Jolly Jackass. Should I go in there? I grimace. Good people, but terrible service. It looks like they’re having some disputes of their own, as well. A wild-haired old man is yelling “REVOLUTION!” while standing on one of the outdoor patio tables. I see money changing hands in front of the bar.
Maybe I should just go home and skip last call.
No.
I shake my head. I know where I’m going to end my evening.
I walk into No Rulz, and am greeted with a hug by Gary Johnson. “You made it!” he says. “Trump won, didn’t he?”
“He didn’t just win,” I respond. “He took over the bar.”
“Told you it would happen,” he says. He hands me a beer. It’s a Ranger IPA from New Belgium Brewing Company.
At the end of the movie, Raiders of the Lost Ark, an official promises Indiana Jones that the artifact is being examined by “top men”. The Ark of the Covenant is placed in a crate and stowed deep in a warehouse, presumably forgotten.
The tools of intimidation, oppression of critical thought, and xenophobia were once commonly used in the political sphere on both sides of the Atlantic. Like the crate in Raiders, these vestiges of our dark past have been sitting dormant on a shelf, waiting for the right candidate to release them.
In our country, the Know-Nothing movement of the mid-19th century utilized rhetoric that sounds awfully familiar to anyone who’s recently been on Twitter.
“America for Americans, we say. And why not? Why shouldn’t they shape and rule the destinies of their own land…why not rule their own, particularly when the alien betrays the trust that should never been given him, and the liberties of the land are thereby imperiled? “
A century later, in June, 1941, Mississippi Representative John Elliott Rankin delivered a scathing anti-Semitic address on the floor of the United States House of Representatives, stating,
“Mr. Speaker, Wall Street and a little group of our international Jewish brethren are still attempting to harass the President of the United States into the European war, and at the same time Communistic elements throughout the country are fomenting strikes, harassing industry, and blowing down the defense program.”
Supposed Jewish ties to Communism were a common argument of the time in Western democracies. A 1938 article in the British Daily Mail warned of the dangers of “German Jews Pouring into This Country” through a “back door”.
In Germany, street violence and scapegoating political enemies were primary mechanisms used by Hitler to seize power through a grassroots movement during the early 1930s. Primary targets for recruitment by Berlin regional party leader Joseph Goebbels included the unemployed and underemployed. The forthcoming battles with Communists on the streets of Berlin were used by Goebbels in the spin wars of Germany’s newspapers. Attacks against political opponents and Jewish business owners were portrayed as a necessary means of defending the German people.
It is unpleasant to dwell upon these dark periods of human history. However, such reflection is crucial. Donald Trump’s candidacy has opened the crate of these rhetorical weapons and unleashed them upon an unprepared populace.
Mr. Trump has repeatedly defended himself against charges of racism, even blaming a faulty earpiece for failing to denounce support from KKK figure David Duke. It can be argued that his denials have not discouraged members of the so-called “alt-right” from rising to support his candidacy.
In language reminiscent of our dark past, these individuals, mostly online, have hurled terrible imagery at opponents, including photo-shopping the image of a Jewish reporter into a concentration camp. Katy Waldman of Slate describes the alarming usage of Jewish cowbells, in which online racists will bracket the names of a suspected Jewish personalities in parentheses to signal other alt-righters. These “cowbells” have also been referred to as “dog whistles”, designed to create targets for online abuse. New Yorker writer Benjamin Wallace-Wells describes these alt-right figures as the “shock troops of the Trump phenomenon”.
Jewish Cowbells are the 21st century equivalent of gold stars painted on storefronts.
Americans who do not find these incidents alarming should brush up on U.S. and World History. These are not appropriate tactics for elections in a Republic. Some GOP figures have claimed opposing Donald Trump’s candidacy is anti-American. I can live with that, because I can debate proponents of such ideas in a heated but still respectful forum.
I cannot accept opponents who attempt to intimidate me with threats of physical violence and unspeakable atrocities.
Katy Waldman, in her Slate article, documents threats of rape against writers who dare to oppose Donald Trump publicly. Trump doesn’t assuage the nerves of critics when senior advisors to his campaign like Barry Bennett make statements such as, “You couldn’t get the truth from Hillary Clinton if you waterboarded her.” In a rally Thursday evening in San Jose, Trump himself called for Clinton’s imprisonment.
In America, in 2016, we have the candidate of a major political party advocating the torture and imprisonment of an electoral opponent. How did we get here? How do we stop this?
While at lunch today, I caught myself from speaking too loudly while criticizing Trump’s ideas. That gave me pause. It’s 2016. I shouldn’t have to worry about being physically assaulted because I disagree with a political candidate.
But yet I do. It wasn’t the first time this election cycle, either.
Mr. Trump can soothe many nervous Americans by standing publicly against the shadowy online figures who use such abhorrent rhetoric to abuse innocent journalists and intellectuals. He needs to condemn these people, and soon.
It’s not enough to claim he doesn’t stand with such extremists. They stand with him.
weisserose2016 