Who Is “We”?

Michael Maccoby’s analysis of Donald Trump’s leadership style demonstrates how Trump fails to meet the criteria for what people need in a leader during a time of national crisis. He focuses on the criteria put forth by Pericles and embodied in figures like Franklin D. Roosevelt and Abraham Lincoln. The evidence suggests that Trump cannot unify the country, fight for the common good, or address 21^st century problems with 21^st century solutions. Maccoby describes Trump as having a “marketing narcissistic personality,” which compels him to pathologically focus on his self-presentation as a superior force. Meanwhile, Biden does not seem to inspire exuberance from any corner of the electorate. But he at least exhibits enough pro-social or Periclean traits to be trusted next with the presidential baton of the United States.

I believe Maccoby’s overall assessment is sound and incomplete without a more direct and thorough discussion of Trump’s well-documented racial animus. I have the advantage of writing this commentary in early June in light of the now worldwide protests against systemic racism and police brutality, sparked by the murder of George Floyd by a Minneapolis police officer. Nevertheless, white supremacist ideology has long been associated with the Trump brand, from birtherism to the Central Park Five to Trump’s own father’s discriminatory business practices and attendance at a Klan rally.

The purpose of bringing this up is not to heap moral condemnation onto Trump or his supporters. Rather, I hope to demonstrate how Trump’s racial animus is inseparable from his narcissism. Furthermore, I’d like to consider how White voters who support Trump may have a corollary sense of racialized narcissistic injury. This notion is relevant to Maccoby’s thesis toward the end of his article—that good leaders, in and of themselves, are insufficient if people are unable or unwilling to elect such leaders into office.

One of Alfred Adler’s lasting contributions to our understanding of the human condition is that within all of us lies a feeling

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of inferiority that we try to compensate for through various strategies, striving for superiority. If we get it right, we can manifest this “will to power” while at the same time not harming others. But if we get it wrong, as white supremacists certainly do, we escape our feelings of inferiority by harming, oppressing, or attempting to dominate others. Kenneth B. Clark, perhaps one of the most influential Black psychologists of the 20^th century, who was also an Adlerian, recognized systemic racism to be a major source of psychological harm, not just to the Black community but the social fabric as a whole (Damon Freeman, “Reconsidering Kenneth B. Clark and the Idea of Black Psychological Damage, 1931-1945,” Du Bois Review, Vol. 8, No. 1, 2011, 271-283).

White supremacy, from microaggressions to racially motivated acts of violence, aims to maintain a racial hierarchy that inferiorizes the Other. Framed this way, racism seems patently narcissistic, as it depends on the Other to constitute itself. One can imagine that if the elements of racism and narcissism were to co-occur, the result would be a particularly unstable presentation. In the case of Trump, we already know based on his narcissism that he will lash out against any attack. Lacking a stable sense of self, it almost seems as if he revels in being attacked so that he can counter-punch, proving his superiority. Likewise, Trump meets any threat to his White privilege with an over-compensatory response. I believe that this narcissism and racism go hand-in-hand, each amplifying the other.

When NFL quarterback Colin Kaepernick protested the killing of unarmed Black men due to law enforcement by peacefully kneeling during the national anthem, Trump responded, “Get that son of a bitch off the field.” In response to recent protests, which were largely peaceful but included violent demonstrations, Trump’s response was arguably disproportionate; he activated the military, told governors to “dominate” protestors, and shot tear gas at Americans during a pandemic. Testing the limits, consider the racist-narcissist’s worst nightmare: being publicly humiliated by a Black man. Many commentators have observed how, since the time President Barack Obama “roasted” Trump at the 2011 White House Correspondents’ dinner, Trump has waged a steady campaign to dismantle the former president’s legacy, from the Affordable Care Act to the Iran Nuclear Agreement to the Paris Climate Agreement. Whereas these actions may be partly attributed to political differences, the personal animus is unmistakable.

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It must be said that Joe Biden does not get off scot-free on the white supremacy charge, nor do any of us who benefit from systemic racism. The former senator from Delaware collaborated with segregationist Strom Thurmond to pass crime bills that significantly contributed to the mass incarceration of Black and brown people. Joe has also made gaffes that reveal a certain arrogance and ignorance perhaps unique to White males in positions of power. Nonetheless, Biden does not share the same racial animus as Trump, nor does he use dog whistles to shore up his base. Which brings us to the second issue: White Americans who have the potential of voting for Trump.

Maccoby writes, “Americans have not always elected the leaders most needed… like Donald Trump whose main purpose is to be an admired winner and who has a humorless authoritarian personality.” I would challenge this statement on the basis that it diffuses responsibility to all Americans when the reality is that Trump’s 2020 electoral chances hinge on the mood, beliefs, and attitude of White Americans.

According to Omar Wasow, a researcher who studies the relationship between protests and voting trends, there is a significant voting bloc that has tipped elections since 1968. It is comprised of “white moderates who are part of the Democratic coalition as long as they perceive there to be order, but when they perceive there to be too much disorder they shift to the party that has owned the issue of order, which is the Republican Party” (Isaac Chotiner, “How Violent Protests Change Politics [Interview of Omar Wasow],” The New Yorker, May 29, 2020). Similarly, “Donald Trump’s 2016 victory over Hillary Clinton came by a margin of 58-37 percent among whites… Call white voters bigots or don’t.” Kevin Baker goes on to write, “But in good times and in bad, in peacetime and in war, in sunshine or in shadow, white America votes for those candidates it believes are likely to keep people of color ‘in their place’—either outside the country altogether, or in the most servile and subordinate condition possible within it” (“Losing My Religion,” Harper’s Magazine, March 2020).

Maccoby addresses the disillusionment present in White Americans and hints at Trump’s use of racism to win them over politically. What I want to add is that while it’s true that significant portions of White America have been severely hurt by international trade deals, technological innovation, and the weakening of unions, it’s also true that many Whites have a vested interest in preserving

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a white supremacist system that guarantees them certain privileges. Just as Trump responds defensively to challenges to his superiority, these voters have a track record of securing their sense of superiority through the subjection of others electorally.

Therefore, to me, the question of whether the president we need will be elected this autumn depends on what we mean by “we.” Will a substantial amount of White suburban moderates use their time-tested defense of resorting to the status quo that benefits them? Or will this group of swing voters outgrow their rigid defense? As Black Lives Matter becomes an increasingly mainstream position, one has cause for hope.

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