One of the genre-defining classics of film noir, The Killers -- based on a short story by Ernest Hemingway -- stars Ava Gardner and Burt Lancaster in his film debut. Thanks to its top-notch performances, tight script by John Huston, Richard Brooks and Anthony Veillerand and excellent direction by Robert Siodmak, in 2008, The Killers was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry as being "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant."
Trump said he’d “work my ass off” as president. He’s spent about 1 in 5 days at a golf club.
On the campaign trail, Donald Trump remarked that once in the White House, he’d never see his golf courses again — because “I want to stay in the White House and work my ass off.”
In reality, Trump has spent 35 days at a golf property since taking office, according to NBC News. That amounts to more than 21 percent of his 164 days as president so far.
The New York Times also previously found that as of April, Trump had spent much more time at the golf course than his predecessors. By April 28, Trump had spent 19 days at the golf course. In comparison, Barack Obama had spent one day at the same point in his presidency, George W. Bush had spent zero, and Bill Clinton had spent five.
It’s good for everyone, even the president, to take some time off every once in a while. You don’t want anyone at an important job to be exhausted or drained, and multiplestudies suggest that vacations and breaks from work are good for productivity.
What makes Trump’s outings remarkable is that they’re just another example of how he’s lied and bullshitted to the American people. Consider this video from NBC News editor Bradd Jaffy, in which Trump repeatedly insisted that he would not take time off during his presidency — taking shots at Obama for golfing, in his view, so much:
Today is Trump's 35th day at a golf club since taking office. He's been at a golf club on 21% of days as president.
“There won’t be time to go on vacations,” Trump said on MSNBC. “There won’t be time to go golfing all the time.” At another point, he said, “You need leadership. You can’t fly to Hawaii to play golf.”
Trump has so far broken that promise to the American people.
Meanwhile, his legislative promises have fallen apart too. Trump spent much of the campaign contrasting himself with traditional Republicans by saying he’d take a much more compassionate view on health care, promising he would “take care of everybody,” and vowing not to cut Medicaid. Instead, the health care bill that Senate Republicans proposed and that Trump supports would, according to the Congressional Budget Office, cut 22 million people from the insurance rolls and slash Medicaid by $772 billion over 10 years.
This is the kind of stuff Trump could spend his time as president “working [his] ass off” to fix. Instead, it looks like he’s taking a lot of time off.
You’re reading Significant Digits, a daily digest of the numbers tucked inside the news.
A U.S. court of appeals ruled you don’t have to register your drones with the Federal Aviation Administration because small drones are just model airplanes. Save the $5 on that registration. In other news, drones are about to get way more annoying. [Quartz]
Philippines President Rodrigo Duterte declared a 60-day period of martial law for the entirety of Mindanao island because of clashes between armed groups and the government. [ABS CBN]
More than 80 U.S. Olympians are reporting that their medals won at the Rio Olympics are flaking or otherwise degrading. Officials have observed problems on 6 to 7 percent of medals. [The Associated Press]
Uber underpaid tens of thousands of New York City drivers by improperly basing their payments on net rather than gross fares. The controversial ride-sharing company has agreed to repay those lost earnings, an average of about $900 per driver. That’s tens of millions of dollars out of the pockets of drivers, finally reclaimed. [Quartz]
Reported annual value of a contract between Nike and New York Giants wide receiver Odell Beckham Jr., the most lucrative shoe deal for an NFL player. [ESPN]
662 million vacation days
Number of available vacation days that Americans collectively did not take in 2016. Hit the beaches, people. [Fortune]
If you see a significant digit in the wild, send it to @WaltHickey.
There was an actual lengthy, substantive discussion on Morning Joe this morning with Tim Snyder, a history professor and the author of the best-seller "On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century," Willie Geist, and Joe Scarborough.
Snyder reminded them that "most republics and most democracies fail," and that history provides tools to help. "Because a lot of the things that are happening to us are just the early stages of processes that happened elsewhere."
Geist asked what parallels he saw with current events.
Snyder noted the recent "loyalty" conflict with Trump and Comey.
"First of all, the idea of loyalty. Loyalty is a way you take a rule-of-law state like ours off the rails and transform it into something else," he said.
"When the president asked the FBI director for loyalty, he's actually trying to change the character of the American government. Hitler in 1934 began to demand precisely loyalty, and it was from that moment forward that he was the leader and no longer just the chancellor of Germany," he said.
"Or, for example, firing Mr. Comey by sending over a head of a private security detail. That's what happens in Germany as well. The private security detail eventually becomes the SS and they become more important than the police. It's a baby step forward to use the head of your private bodyguard to fire the FBI director, but it's a troubling indication of the way this man's mind works."
By now you know that 'gaslighting' is a technique used to abuse and manipulate another person, usually a woman in an intimate relationship. The abuser uses threats, bullying, and the blatant re-writing of history to make the other person doubt their own hearing, understanding, memory, and in some cases, sanity.
Sean Spicer at the March 23 presser said that the White House leaking information to Nunes "didn't pass the smell test." Well guess what, it stinks to high heaven. The intel Nunes brought to the White House, came from the White House.
Major Garrett read a direct quote from Spicer during the March 23 presser. That's seven days ago. A direct quote. As in This. IS. What. YOU. Said.
Spicer turned it around and blamed the media. He was quoting you, dude.
This post was done in partnership with The Sweethome, a buyer's guide to the best homewares. When readers choose to buy The Sweethome's independently chosen editorial picks, it may earn affiliate commissions that support its work. Read the full article here.
To find the best electric toothbrush, we put in almost 100 total hours of research, interviewing experts, evaluating every model on the market, and testing 10 toothbrushes ourselves in hundreds of trials at the bathroom sink. We found that the best toothbrush for most people is a simple $50 model called the Oral-B Pro 1000. It has the fewest fancy features of the models we tested, but it does have the most important things experts recommend—a built-in two-minute timer and access to one of the most extensive and affordable lines of replaceable toothbrush heads available—for the lowest price.
Should you upgrade?
Per the ADA's recommendations, the only necessary thing in toothbrushing is a basic toothbrush that you use properly. No electric toothbrush has the ADA seal right now, but powered electric toothbrushes have been shown to provide superior dental care to manual toothbrushing—they remove more plaque and reduce gingivitis at statistically significant rates. If you find yourself struggling to meet two minutes, you tend to brush unevenly, or you find manual brushing to be too much labor, upgrading from a manual toothbrush to an electric one that automates these elements would make sense.
One thing worth pointing out about electric toothbrushes is that they are not cheaper in the long run. Electric toothbrushes cost about 10 times as much as manual toothbrushes, and you have to replace the brush heads at the same frequency (every three months), each for about the same cost as a manual brush. What you get for the higher cost is less friction in achieving good brushing habits, and, according to research, a significant reduction in plaque and gingivitis, even if that reduction may come only from having a brush that encourages good habits, like a full two minutes of brushing for each session.
How we picked and tested
The full complement of brushes we tested. Photo: Casey Johnston
After sorting through dental care research, which is littered with (unusable) clinical studies sponsored by the companies that make the toothbrushes being tested, we've learned that all you really need out of an electric toothbrush is a two-minute timer to make sure you brush your teeth for the right amount of time. Manufacturers have blown up the high end with scientific-sounding "features" like cleaning modes and UV lights, but there's nothing to prove these work, let alone that they are necessary. All an electric toothbrush can really offer is automation of the brushing process by adding a timer and easing some of the physical labor, according to the professors and dentist we spoke to.
To begin the search, we trawled the manufacturer websites of the highest-rated brands and looked at the recommendations of Consumer Reports (subscription required to see product recommendations) and the Good Housekeeping Institute for toothbrush models as well as their replacement or substitution toothbrush heads, an important factor in choosing a best toothbrush.
We looked for, at minimum, brushes with a two-minute timer, but still wanted to test higher-end brushes to compare their usability with that of the simplest models. We eliminated brushes without rechargeable batteries because loose batteries are a hassle and a waste. We also eliminated models that were reviewed as loud or having either short battery life or a too-small range of compatible brush heads. If a brush was compatible with a wide range of brush heads, that was a small point in its favor.
Both Oral-B and Sonicare make extensive lines of brushes and don't exactly go to pains to make it clear what the difference is between all of them. See our full guide for a breakdown of differentiating features.
We then called in models for testing to see what it was like to hold the toothbrushes, charge them, use them, replace their heads, and have our brushing sessions timed and monitored. To stress-test them, we also dropped our picks onto a tile floor from chest height to test for durability and submerged them in water while they ran for a full two-minute brushing cycle to test for water resistance. We compared the brushes on all these usability points to arrive at our conclusion.
Photo: Casey Johnston
The Pro 1000 is among Oral-B's least expensive models, but comes with all the features recommended by most of our experts for the lowest price—a two-minute timer (with a nice-to-have quadrant alert), and a wide selection of compatible and affordable brush heads. The Pro 1000 has comfortable-feeling oscillating bristles, a simple one-button interface, and a battery that lasted 11½ days with twice-daily use in our tests. The body survived drop tests on the floor and into water. Best of all, you're not getting overcharged for features like digital monitors, travel cases, or inductive chargers—none of which will actually get your teeth any cleaner than the Pro 1000 can.
The one-button simplicity is a great feature—there are no useless cleaning modes. The Pro 1000's timer goes off every 30 seconds, alerting the user of the time by briefly pausing. After two minutes, the brush pulses three times to signal that a full cycle is up, but will continue brushing after if the user wants to keep brushing; it must always be turned off manually. This is nice for touching up areas of your mouth you may not have given enough attention to. On many more-expensive brushes, like the Philips Sonicare Diamondclean, pushing the button more than once activates different cleaning modes, forcing you to cycle through every option to get back to the simple default cleaning mode.
Using the right brush head for your teeth and gums matters, and we like that the Pro 1000 can take advantage of Oral-B's brush head line. The range is the widest of all toothbrush lines, making it easier to customize the brush for one user's preferences and recommendations from their dentist. Oral-B's brushes are also, on average, less expensive than replacement heads for other brushes.
The Philips Sonicare 2 Series. Photo: Casey Johnston
The Philips Sonicare 2 Series is currently one of the least expensive Sonicare brushes at around $50. This brush is quieter than our recommended Oral-B model, with a more subtle motion (though the vibrations can feel slightly more uncomfortable when the back of the brush knocks against your other teeth). The 2 Series also has twice the battery life of the Oral-B, lasting two weeks of use on a single charge instead of one (in our tests it lasted for 16 days of use), so it might be a better choice for travelers. The replacement brush heads for the 2 Series are slightly more expensive at $27 for three ($9 each); the Oral-B's replacement heads can be as cheap as $5 to $6 each, making the Oral-B's expenses a little lower in the long run.
Best online subscription toothbrush
Photo: Kit Dillon
The Goby Electric Toothbrush is only a few dollars more than our other picks and comes with the same no-frills features: a two-minute timer that shuts the brush off at the end, plus a quadrant timer to prompt you to switch areas every 30 seconds. Goby offers an "optional" brush head subscription service–however, it's worth keeping in mind that you can't get new brush heads anywhere else and there is only one kind available. The replacement brush heads for the Goby cost $6 with $3 shipping, about the same as the 2 Series replacements and a little more expensive than the Oral-B's heads.
This guide may have been updated by The Sweethome. To see the current recommendation, please go here.
Note from The Sweethome: When readers choose to buy our independently chosen editorial picks, we may earn affiliate commissions that support our work.
There was a moment in today's cavalcade of White House lies -- also known as Sean Spicer's press briefings -- when CNN reporter Jim Acosta prevented my head from exploding.
While Spicer was spewing his talking points about the ACA being "government-run health care" that "nobody wants," Acosta stopped him cold.
"Medicare is government-run healthcare," Acosta reminded him. "People seem to like it."
This sent Spicer on a minute-long rant about Medicaid, and how no one can get a doctor who takes Medicaid and so freedom dictates that they should have no doctor at all or some such.
Spicer glided right past Medicare, because Acosta is right. It works, and people like it. And yeah, it's "government-run."
You know, there's an easy answer to all of this nonsense they're trying to pull over us right now. They can tell doctors who take Medicare reimbursements that if they'd like to keep getting that guaranteed income paid by the Federal government every month, they have to accept Medicaid and ACA patients too. Seems like an easy fix.
Or, they could just add a Medicare buy-in to the ACA. Or a public option. Or just make it Medicare for All.
This lying all the time, though. It's exhausting and so unnecessary. The harder Spicer spins, the less believable he is. All the dishonesty shines through like the dark armor it is.
Watching an elite chess match in person is at once enjoyable and discomfiting. You follow the players’ actions — their moves, their mannerisms — for long stretches of time. You hang on each one and imbue it with meaning. You become so familiar with their moves that you can rattle them off later from memory: “queen to h6,” say, or “rook to e2.” You try to understand why the players did what they did. The moves can be beautiful or inscrutable or frustrating or disappointing. You try to imagine what you would do if you were in one of their chairs. You try to predict what they will do next. You try and make sense of their postgame explanations. But you aren’t them, and you can never really understand.
On Wednesday, the final day of the World Chess Championship, hundreds crowded into the Fulton Market Building in lower Manhattan to watch, trying to understand. Magnus Carlsen, the defending champion, No. 1-rated player in the world and the closest thing the sport has to a rock star, was facing his challenger, Sergey Karjakin of Russia, in a series of speedy tiebreaker games. The 12 lengthy games that had stretched over the previous 19 days — I attended 11 in person — ended tied and the two grandmasters were back in their chairs in a soundproof glass box to break the deadlock. It was the biggest day in chess in many years. Carlsen, the former wunderkind, was clinging to his title and his legacy, while Karjakin and the Russians were hoping for a return to the days of Soviet chess hegemony. On the fourth game of the tiebreaker, and the 16th of the match, Carlsen attacked the Russian’s king, Karjakin resigned and the two shook hands. It was over.
You had to elbow your way through knots of onlookers to get anywhere in the venue’s sprawling VIP wing. Men in suits and expensive shoes crowded around TVs, watching the games and sipping martinis. The room was at a low murmur — equal parts English and Russian with an occasional dash of Norwegian. The clinking of glasses and the ratatat of ice in cocktail shakers punctuated the chess talk.
Like a Russian nesting doll, a VVIP section had been set up for Peter Thiel, the Silicon Valley billionaire, and company within the VIP section. It was newly roped off and closely monitored by scary-looking bodyguards. Thiel, a Donald Trump supporter and a strong chess player himself, and Yuri Milner, the Russian billionaire venture capitalist, sat at a board inside. With apologies to Beyoncé, it was $6 billion at a chess table. Accompanying them: Bennett Miller, who directed “Foxcatcher,” about the wrestling-obsessed murderer and multimillionaire heir to the du Pont fortune, and the Icelandic grandmaster Hedinn Steingrimsson, who was giving them a private analysis of the ongoing championship game taking place just a few yards away.
A buffet and wine bar had been installed for the guests from Silicon Valley who’d arrived that day, and bored-looking members of their entourages lolled on large couches, poking at iPhones. Word around the venue was that the billionaires had paid $50,000 for these privileges. (The match’s organizer wouldn’t comment on the figure.) Much later in the evening, some other journalists and I raided their buffet, eating what must have been thousands of dollars worth of cold mini tacos.
“Are you security?” the writer Brin-Jonathan Butler asked one of the well-dressed, well-built men keeping close watch over the well-heeled chess lesson.
“Something like that,” he responded ominously. “I wouldn’t bother them, if you don’t mind.”
This World Chess Championship scene was somewhere at the intersection of Bond film, Trump fundraiser and museum gala.
Despite the high-powered, moneyed interest, and its prime New York City location, the match was sparsely covered by the American press — as chess is generally — and given little attention outside the core chess world. It’s unlikely to increase the game’s reach or exposure as the organizers may have hoped. That did happen once in the States — in 1972 — but that was because of Bobby Fischer.
The troublesome shadow of Fischer stretches over every conversation of chess’s success and future in the U.S. He was the best American player of all time, and its only modern world champion. His legacy is stained by his vocal anti-Semitism, and comments that he was pleased with the terrorism on Sept. 11, among other things. But in his chess prime, he carried the U.S. on his back while sitting at the board, having taught himself the game, largely alone, in a shabby Brooklyn apartment. And he won.
While this year’s championship lacked the colorful characters and Cold War narrative of Fischer’s title run — although some journalists tried to revive them — it did have some of the controversy.
Kirsan Ilyumzhinov, the president of the game’s international governing body, FIDE, was absent from the match, having been sanctioned by the U.S. for business connections with the Assad regime in Syria. Ilyumzhinov is no stranger to controversy. He insists he was abducted by aliens. They were wearing yellow spacesuits and nabbed him from his Moscow apartment in 1997, taking him away to a distant star. He considers chess “a gift from extraterrestrial civilizations.”
There are other internal chess-world squabbles. Agon Limited, the match’s organizer, filed an application for a restraining order and injunction against a number of popular third-party chess websites, just before the match began. The websites’ alleged transgression? Relaying chess moves live, which Agon saw as a violation. The application was denied by a judge in the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of New York, who wrote that “robust reporting of factual data concerning the contestants’ moves” best served the public interest. Agon’s CEO, Ilya Merenzon, told me that the company would continue to pursue the matter in court, and was also proposing legislation to cement their rights to the games they organize.
I discussed the case with Macauley Peterson, the content director for chess24, one of the defendants, on the floor of the venue during one of the early games. He kept glancing away from me at people walking by. He said he was worried about who might be eavesdropping.
The tournament’s organizers have declared their own victory, though, bragging that the 20-day biennial championship had drawn some 10,000 spectators to its location in the South Street Seaport. But that’s less than, say, half the average attendance of the worst team in baseball for any one of its 81 home games this year. And the event’s only two main sponsors were PhosAgro, a Russian producer of phosphate-based fertilizer, and EG Capital Advisors, a Russian investment management company. Not exactly Nike and Coca-Cola.
But despite the controversy and the finances, what’s really missing from chess is a character.
The U.S. has three players in the world Top 10, any one of whom could have a shot at challenging Carlsen for the title in two years. They’re undeniably fantastic players. But they seem less like compelling national characters — and less like artists — than Fischer did. They’re technicians, raised in a computer-chess age. Carlsen ended the match and extended his world championship reign with a beautiful move on Wednesday evening — whether he’d admit its beauty or not — sacrificing his queen to entrap Karjakin’s king. But in one of the postgame press conferences, Carlsen said chess was a sport and a science. For art, he said, you’d “have to look elsewhere.”
After the match — after the trophy presentation and the cake and the champagne — our photographer and I tracked down the Norwegian contingent at an after-after-party at a steakhouse a couple miles uptown. It was a festive scene. Holiday garland and lights festooned the bannisters and the restaurant was a cozy respite from the cold and rainy November day outside. Carlsen was sitting at a far table in the crowded dining room with about 50 others. He was eating. With a fork. Like a person. It was odd to see him with something other than a chess piece in his hand.
I wanted to talk to him. I’d been watching him for hours most days for the past three weeks. But honestly I had no idea what I’d say. Carlsen famously hates interviews. But I was saved. “No questions. Definitely no,” his manager, Espen Agdestein, told us. “He’s very tired. We’re just relaxing.”
I’m guessing you’ve never heard of Changsha — I hadn’t. It’s the 36th most populous city in the world, with a greater population than any city in the US except NYC. The scale of China’s population is incredible…16 of the most populous 50 cities in the world are in China and many Americans would struggle to name more than 3 or 4 of them.↩
Trump put fascism on the ballot this year, and millions of people said “yes.”
Plato thought political regimes followed a predictable evolutionary course, from oligarchy to democracy to tyranny. Oligarchies give way to democracies when the elites fail, when they become spoiled, lazy, profligate, and when they develop interests apart from those they rule.
Democracies give way to tyrannies when mob passion overwhelms political wisdom and a populist autocrat seizes the masses. But the tyrant is not quite a tyrant at first. On the contrary, in a democracy the would-be tyrant offers himself as the people’s champion. He’s the ultimate simplifier, the one man who can make everything whole again.
With Trump, we have a glimpse of what this sort of evolution looks like: A vulgar right-wing populism emerges out of a whirlwind of anti-establishment hysteria; a strongman fascist promises to stick it to the elites and says only he can make the country great again; he gives the people a familiar boogeyman, some alien other, on whom they can dump their resentment.
For a fractured and embittered citizenry, this is a rhetorical balm, and, according to Plato, just the sort of thing that sends the city over a cliff.
The American founders were skeptical of democratic rule for all the reasons Plato spelled out. They created a firewall against the tyranny of the majority, which is why we have a republic instead of a direct democracy.
Trump is the firebrand they feared.
You might see his political existence as our democracy's response to its own decay. People no longer believe in the authority of public institutions, which amounts to a loss of faith in constitutional democracy. That Trump made it this far proves that the country can be whipped into a frenzy and that fascism is only an election away.
If Trump fails, it won’t be because he was too illiberal or too anti-democratic but because he self-sabotaged, because he was too incompetent to execute his half-baked vision. But it’s easy to imagine a future Trump, a candidate who shares his tyrannical nature but is skilled enough to capture a plurality.
Perhaps we’ll survive this time, but we walked right up to the edge of the abyss. Next time we may tumble into it.
What Plato said
“Democracy is a charming form of government, full of variety and disorder, and dispensing a sort of equality to equals and unequals alike.” — Plato
Whether Donald Trump wins or loses, he did the country at least one service: He revealed the rot at the core of our politics. His success shows just how vulnerable we are to demagogic shocks.
Earlier this year, Andrew Sullivan wrote an essay for New York magazinein which he argued that America is ripe for tyranny. With Plato as his lodestar, Sullivan lamented the excesses of democracies and warned how easily they devolve into dictatorships.
Trump, he argued, is an “extinction-level” threat.
There’s much to disagree with in Sullivan’s piece, but his diagnosis was largely right: The very possibility of a Trump presidency constitutes a crisis for our democracy.
What’s happening in this election cycle isn’t new or incomprehensible. The character of Trump and the reasons for his rise are explained in remarkably prescient terms by Plato over two centuries ago in his most famous book, The Republic.
TheRepublic is a series of dialogues about many things: justice, human nature, education, virtue. Among the most important is a conversation between Socrates and friends about the nature of regimes and why one is superior to another.
Socrates says: “Let us place the most just regime side by side the most unjust, and when we see them we shall be able to compare…” Though it’s not the aim, what we get at the end of the dialogue is a theory of regime decline, with Socrates explaining why governments sink from higher to lower forms.
Oligarchy, democracy, and tyranny, in that order, are said to be the worst forms of government, and they are defined more or less in modern terms.
An oligarchy is a regime in which the rich have power and the poor are deprived of it. A democracy is a system of maximal freedom in which the people hold sway. And tyranny is rule by one man, who is both unjust and unqualified.
Oligarchies become democracies for predictable reasons: “As the rich grow richer and richer, the more they think of making a fortune and the less they think of virtue.” The inequality and corruption spread like a disease. “Democracy comes into power,” Socrates says, “when the poor are the victors, killing some and exiling some, and giving equal shares in the government to all the rest.”
Democracy, for all its charms, is said to be a poor substitute for oligarchy. It’s an “agreeable form of anarchy,” Socrates tells us. Like every other regime, a democracy collapses of its own contradictions. It’s full of freedom and spangled with every kind of liberty imaginable.
Over time, though, this boundless freedom degenerates into herd hysteria. Belief in authority atrophies. A spirit of excess takes hold and, eventually, “the state falls sick, and is at war with herself.”
Tyranny springs from democracy in the same manner democracy springs from oligarchy. Just as the blind pursuit of wealth occasions a thirst for equality, so “the insatiable desire for freedom occasions a demand for tyranny.”
There’s a logic to this dynamic, a kind of political physics. Each regime succeeds the previous one as its opposite and as a reaction to it.
So the shift from democracy to tyranny is simple enough: A surplus of freedom produces an excess of factions and a multiplicity of perspectives, most of which are blinkered by narrow interests. To get elected, those factions have to be flattered, their passions indulged. This is fertile soil for the demagogue, who manipulates the masses to “overmaster democracy,” as Plato put it.
In this way, it’s the very freedom of democracy that opens the way to tyranny. The love of tolerance devolves into a kind of unraveling licentiousness. Communal bonds wither. When things get bad, as they always do, the people grow restless and yield to a swindling demagogue who cultivates their fears and positions himself as the protector.
This is how democracy passes into despotism.
Trump as the people’s tyrant
“States are as the men are; they grow out of human characters.” — Plato
Plato insists that it takes a particular kind of person to win over a democratic mob.
The Republic is based on an assumption of a parallelism between the city and the soul. It’s difficult to summarize, but Plato held that for every kind of government there existed a corresponding kind of man. This is what he means when he writes that states “grow out of human characters,” and this is what Socrates means when he says that “the city is the soul writ large.”
In TheRepublic, systems of government are defined by the end they most pursue. Oligarchies, for instance, esteem wealth. In democracies, freedom is the highest good. In tyrannies, it’s the will of the tyrant.
There are five regime types for Plato and thus five kinds of human characters, each following the other in corresponding order. Describing them all is beyond the scope of this article, so instead let’s focus on the most relevant: the tyrant.
A tyrant, for Plato, wasn’t just someone who ruled over others; a tyrant is someone who can’t rule over himself. He’s Eros incarnate — pure impulse. He’s always in the thrall of his own lusts and passions.
Plato likens the tyrant to a drunken man, in whom there is a constant “succession of passions, and the new gets the better of the old and takes away their rights.” Because he can’t get along without domineering or being served, moreover, he “never tastes of true freedom or friendship.”
Trump is the tyrannical soul par excellence. His instinct is always to stifle dissent. The examples here are endless. He has threatened to “open up” federal libel laws and partially repeal the First Amendment in order to sue newspapers for the crime of challenging him.
During one of the presidential debates, he vowed to jail his political opponent for imagined non-offenses. “I’ll tell you what,” Trump said, “I didn’t think I’d say this … and I hate to say it: If I win, I’m going to instruct the attorney general to get a special prosecutor to look into your situation.” He then warned Clinton that, if he were president, “You’d be in jail.”
Almost everything we know about Trump testifies to this need to punish and humiliate. Consider this revealing Politico report about Richard Branson’s memorable encounter with Trump several years ago. Here’s how Branson recalls it:
“Some years ago, Mr. Trump invited me to lunch for a one-to-one meeting at his apartment in Manhattan. We had not met before and I accepted … Even before the starters arrived he began telling me about how he had asked a number of people for help after his latest bankruptcy and how five of them were unwilling to help. He told me he was going to spend the rest of his life destroying these five people.”
Branson later said that Trump’s “vindictive streak” would “be so dangerous if he got into the White House.”
This emotional incontinence is what sets Trump apart as a uniquely tyrannical figure. To watch him on stage is to witness a frenzied parade of inner consciousness. He’s simply incapable of restraining himself, and all of his “handlers” have learned this the hard way.
He has very few actual friends because other people are ornaments for him. He treats women as playthings. He mocks the disabled. He encourages supporters to “knock the crap” out of protesters. He even withdrew medical benefits for his nephew’s infant child as retaliation for a dispute over his father’s estate.
Pathology is the only term for this kind of behavior.
As Plato predicted, Trump’s tyrannical psyche manifests in his political views. He has proposed killing the family members of terrorists; waterboarding suspects because “they deserve it anyway”; refused to accept the results of a free and fair election; toyed with deploying nuclear weapons in regional conflicts; suggested banning all Muslims from the country; and said a federal judge’s Mexican heritage disqualifies him from office. This list hardly captures all of Trump fascistic musings, but the point is obvious enough.
This is a man with no respect for democratic norms, no understanding of compromise, no sense of inclusiveness, and, worst of all, no self-awareness. His burning ignorance is matched only by his baseless confidence. “Nobody knows the system better than me,” he said during his convention speech, “which is why I alone can fix it.” [Emphasis mine.]
The tyrannical drive cannot be distilled any better than that.
Indeed, with Trump we see the transition from democracy to tyranny in real time. And his message resonates for reasons familiar to Plato: Trump is a reflection of the people to whom he appeals. What distinguishes him from his followers is wealth and celebrity, but it’s his ingratiating crudity that does the real work.
A democratic tyrant slips into power by dint of deception: He is usually rich, but he carries himself as a commoner. “In the early days of his power,” Plato writes, “he is full of smiles, and he salutes every one whom he meets … making promises in public and also in private, liberating debtors, and distributing land to the people and his followers, and wanting to be so kind and good to everyone.”
But the honeymoon is brief. The populist begins as the people’s champion; later, having tasted power, he becomes their tyrant.
Plato wasn’t a prophet. His critique of democracy is wildly exaggerated, and there’s a streak of illiberalism in his thought that ought to offend the modern reader. But his analysis is valuable nevertheless.
At the Constitutional Convention in 1787, Elbridge Gerry, who later served as the fifth vice president under James Madison, declared the chaos in state governments a result of an “excess of democracy.” “The people do not want virtue; but are dupes of pretended patriots,” Gerry said, “and are misled into the most baneful measures and opinions by the false reports circulated by designing men.”
Trump is a designing man, and his political existence is a warning. He let loose something dark in this country, and whatever happens on Tuesday, the fact remains: Trump put fascism on the ballot this year, and millions of people said “yes.”
by Claire Lower on Skillet, shared by Andy Orin to Lifehacker
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