From Achilles to the Donald

How Trump could waltz into the White House

 

When Napoleon was thinking of invading Russia, his generals tried to warn him off. Russia was too vast and its climate too harsh. It would swallow the army and hazard all that Napoleon had accomplished to date.

He ignored them, as he had ignored the many people before who had said the kid from Corsica couldn't do the one thing after another that had let him climb to the pinnacle of power. If he had listened to the naysayers, the world wouldn't have known the name Bonaparte.

He went ahead with the invasion. And proved the skeptics right.

When Hitler pondered doublecrossing Stalin and invading the Soviet Union, the bolder of his generals asked him to reconsider. Germany had Europe at its feet, they said. Why risk everything on a dangerous operation? Remember Napoleon, they said.

Hitler ignored them. I will do what Napoleon could not, he reasoned. If I had listened to the fretters, I'd still be in Austria and there would be no Third Reich.

He ordered the invasion. The Third Reich was undone.

From the Greeks we've inherited a word for excessive self-confidence or pride that leads to a downfall. Hubris was at the heart of Greek tragedies—indeed it was a defining characteristic of their tragedies. More than misfortune, tragedy is something we bring upon ourselves. Achilles sulked in his tent before Troy because his pride was wounded by Agamemnon. His refusal to fight led to the death of Patroclus, the person on earth he was closest to, and to his own demise.

It might be easier to root for Achilles than Hitler, and maybe than Napoleon, But whoever the protagonist, it’s tempting to shout across history and say: Stop! Not this time! Don't keep doing what you've been doing. Rein it in.

But they can't. They are what they are. Their refusal to be guided by others is part of their being.

Two weeks ago Donald Trump had a clear path to the White House. Democrats were discouraged by Joe Biden's public appearances. The high turnout Biden's reelection required seemed unlikely.

Then Biden withdrew, Kamala Harris locked up the nomination, and Dems were energized. Polls show the gap between Trump and the Democratic nominee-apparent closing.

Yet the underlying strengths of Trump's candidacy remain. Inflation has spooked a generation unfamiliar with it. Biden's difficulty securing America's southern border makes many voters look for a change. The culture wars continue.

Why aren't these enough to keep Trump comfortably ahead?

Because suddenly there is a candidate to like. And it's not Trump. Sure, Trump's supporters appreciate him in the way junkyard dogs are appreciated. He's seen as tougher than his rivals, able to scare them away or chew them up. But like, as in welcome into the family? Probably not.

What Trump needs to do is narrow the likability gap. It wouldn't be hard. The world knows that much of what Trump says is hot air, never intended to reflect reality. It's part of the Trump schtick.

All Trump needs to do is signal that he knows it's schtick. With the occasional wink or smile, to indicate he’s playing a part, just like on his television show. He’s not really going to deport ten million undocumented immigrants. That stuff about being dictator for a day? Just an applause line.

Such an approach could actually endear him to his supporters, by letting them know they're in on the joke. And it would make him more appealing to fence-sitters put off by the anger that has dominated his political style until now.

But . . .

It's not likely to happen. His answer to any such suggestion would be that his anger got him this far. If he had listened to people who told him to play nice, he'd still be a political wannabe.

Events might prove him right. He still has a very good chance of winning. If he does win, he'll be justified in saying I told you so.

But if he doesn't, he'll have to go sulk in his cabana at Mar-a-Lago.