A New Hauntology: Fear of Responsibility

By Evan Trabitz, Staff Writer

Donald John Trump, the 45th president of the United States. It is hard to imagine someone who has not heard of this man and his foray into American politics over the past four years. In fact, the whole world has been subject to an endless barrage of shouts emanating from these 50 United States, shouts of anger or praise, shocked disbelief or humored mirth—all regarding this single man. Among citizens, one is hard pressed to find a shared reason why Trump garnered so much attention. Some may regard Trump as an unprecedented political villain, determined to upheave American stability; others insist the opposite: Trump is a hero “making America great again.” Others lack investment altogether and watch from afar, bemused by the uproar. Reaching a consensus among Americans during this term is difficult (read: impossible), but most would agree that Trump marks a distinctive shift in American politics, a dramatic departure from traditional norms. Is Trump really blazing a path towards a new populism? Or rather, do his actions pull back the veil of what American politics have always been: a dynamic power struggle? Trump’s deviation from traditional, composed presidential norms has only exposed the presidency’s essence—a chimera through which capital-hungry vultures make their living and serve their friends. 

One must first understand Trump’s goals to understand his exposé. Trump, despite his adamant omission of the fact, vied for the presidency for power. “Power” is a multifaceted term, capturing different notions with context and placement. Without getting into the philosophical underpinnings of power, it is not a contentious notion to claim that American power is money. Capital is what this country’s foundation is laid upon, reaching back to the initial outbursts against British “taxation without representation.” Trump has secured many high-profile investments throughout the presidency, simultaneously ensuring the survival of his existing capital, the investments he made before he took the presidency. 

In addition to capital, presidents have control, a tool Trump wishes never to relinquish. In recent news, Trump has exemplified both these desires: upon losing the 2020 election, Trump immediately moved to enact legal action against critical swing states, levying claims of fraud before the night was even over. Trump has embarked on an aggressive fundraising campaign to fund these lawsuits, raising millions in the weeks following the tumultuous election. This money flows directly into a PAC to pay for legal expenses and recount costs, but it is not a stretch of the imagination to consider what else these funds are flowing into. Suing itself represents an almost infantile response to losing the election: “I lost, so I will do what it takes to change the result to what I want.” Both capital and control feed these desires, flowing through Trump as he makes seemingly unprecedented decision after unprecedented decision. 

  While these choices may appear spurious, they are not entirely without base. In 2000 America saw similar lawsuits after the Bush-Al Gore election, this time with a focus on Florida. Of course, these lawsuits carried genuine merit and made their way to the Supreme Court, a path already closed to Trump’s legal action. However, it remains that these events carry 20 years of precedent. Capital gains are also not a new feat—Nixon scandalized the entire Executive branch with Watergate, showcasing how far a president will go to get what he wants. Philosopher Jean Baudrillard elucidates how Watergate served to legitimize the government, paradoxically strengthening it even in its hour of least trust. This brilliant reestablishment of order occurred through the placement of blame on Nixon and his subsequent fall from office. By having Nixon act as a scapegoat, the corporate interests kept themselves away from embarrassment, maintaining public trust and keeping the well-oiled American politic running as usual. Scandal, from the public’s perception, disappears. What causes the scandal, what is really happening on the Hill, remains hidden. Trump embodies this same process, 50 years later. Caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar, he is quickly called out and worked against to be thrust out of office. Trump, like Nixon, is the surface of a chaotic sea—removing him keeps the muck hidden in its depths. 

Even our great “Trust Buster” President Theodore Roosevelt fails to exempt himself from this pattern. His intervention in the Coal Strike of 1902, instead of being a virtuous first of presidential intervention, is imbued with aspects of basic political reasoning, not the humanitarian variety. Simply put, a union strike meant no coal; no coal meant no heat, and no heat in the fast-approaching winter was very bad indeed. For a party facing elections in two months, a cold, unhappy, striking populace meant the union had to be dealt with. Roosevelt embodies the pattern of anti-business “heroes.” Philosopher Slavoj Žižek labels these heroes as “obscene masters,” essentially great men cemented as opponents of the established capital norm, but who by their very nature lack authenticity as the archetype. To be clear, Roosevelt did make excellent strides towards better livelihoods for the public, but to continue fantasizing him as an American knight, striding in to save the wretched laborers, insults the hard-working men and women who spurred these acts to begin with. Forsooth, the top “anti-business” hero is actually vying for power like the rest, making Trump’s position crystalline.

Frequency and subtlety create a marked difference between these past acts and Trump’s response. Because of instant media and faster news cycles, a Trump scandal seems like a weekly event. Myriads of unwanted media attention swarmed Nixon for years—a focused barrage that punched through Nixon’s carefully laid plans. Trump, being no stranger to the camera, saw value in any media attention, orchestrating grand displays of publicity. Good or bad did not matter to him, for “there is no such thing as bad publicity.” In our world of light-speed information this adage dons a thicker garment of meaning: Twitter, Facebook, breaking news headlines in the evening, even our schools ensured no one could not escape the emerging Trump brand of 2016 and beyond. Like traditional brands, Trump’s goal is to have people buy his product. What is Trump’s tantalizing offer? Himself, the show. Love or hate Trump, he wins the more one watches. Trump is firstly a businessman, wielding funds and a net of lies into the gladiator arena of American politics, thus succinctly giving reason to his action. Presidents maintain a lengthy history of co-opting agents of capital to achieve their goals, ruthless business linked with haughty democracy. Trump reveals the canonically reversed polarity: democracy as a tool of financials.

 The effect this has on the Americans is fear—a fear that democracy is breaking down. See, the actions of Trump are not without their past rhymes, but they differ in their presence in our collective psyche. Presently, America appears fragile, ready to snap at any moment. Provocations prod at our minds, urging us to react quickly against the newest outrage, panicking as our institutions evaporate in a single vote. However, these provocations are quite simply everyday acts of democracy. There is considerable risk present in a democracy, risk shouldered by the public. The only norms Trump broke, then, were ones of respectful discreteness, a certain subtlety to politics and its more nefarious motions. Normally, these risks are sheltered behind locked doors, away from the eyes of the American public—risks that, when exposed, reveal how precarious our politics are. It is not a coincidence that voting is “suffrage.” Democracy relies on good people doing the right thing. At any moment, a collective of representatives can throw the country down a much darker path, acting, of course, with presidential consent. Alternatively, those with purer intent can alter this trajectory, steering us in a direction of more palatable substance. Ominously, this puts forth the question: what happens when someone does not step in, and those who would act maliciously do so without restriction?

Evan Trabitz ‘23 studies in the School of Engineering & Applied Science. He can be reached at evan.trabitz@wustl.edu.