As a child, I was an enormous fan of Richmal Crompton’s “Just William” books. Written in England in the 1920s, the stories follow the exploits of William Brown, a cheeky little rapscallion of a schoolboy who is the terror of his middle-class family — and of the village in which he lives. William, who is eminently loveable and has a good heart, is congenitally incapable of keeping himself out of trouble. Invariably, his imagination trumps his grasp on reality — along with his gang, “The Outlaws,” and his dog, “Jumble,” he has a penchant for playing at being a pirate or a cowboy or a street urchin and for taking his flights of fancy out on his neighbors. Often, he seems unable to distinguish between lies and the truth — there are two types of liar, Crompton notes, those who know they are lying and those who convince themselves they are telling the truth. William is the latter. And, when push comes to shove, he is downright devious — on one occasion he purchases a Christmas gift for his father that he knows will be unwanted and that will therefore be returned to him post haste. As a reader, one is aware that William is a walking, talking calamity. But one does not especially mind. On the contrary: One comes to like him a great deal.
Why? Because William Brown is eight years old.
The same, alas, cannot be said of Donald Trump, who exhibits all of William’s less admirable proclivities but is able to offer none of his excuses in return. Last night, during a CNN town hall, Americans watched as Trump attempted to explain away the ritual thuggery of his campaign manager Corey Lewandowski with a little Brownesque flair. Lewandowski, Trump proposed, had not in fact unreasonably “battered” reporter Michelle Fields but had been reacting smartly to the continuing threat posed to Trump by petite women wielding pen-bombs. Earlier in the day, sheltering behind Twitter, Trump had made an even more emphatic claim, submitting without explanation that the videotape that clearly shows Lewandowski grabbing Fields was, in some magical and inexplicable way, wholly unreliable. One could almost see the school cap and britches.
Such brazen changeability is par for the Trumpian course. Thus far during Fieldsgate, Trump has argued that nothing at all happened and that the charges were “made up”; that something happened but that the incident has been blown out of proportion; and that, when you think about it, Lewandowski is a hero for saving a presidential candidate from a terrorist attack.
#share#To his apologists, this malleability has suggested that Trump is willing to do “what needs to be done.” To those of us who value truth, however, it has demonstrated just how readily the man will abandon evidence and virtue if he believes that it will help him in the moment. One expects dishonesty from politicians; mendacity, sadly, is a part of how the game has always been played. But at this late stage in the proceedings, one is left wondering less whether Trump is lying routinely in an attempt to get ahead, and more whether he is in fact capable of comprehending the difference between fiction and reality. There is a good reason that when pushed on policy, he either picks the most bombastic position available or issues an assurance that his policies will be “terrific.” That good reason? That in order to devise a coherent policy platform one has to have a coherent grasp on reality. And Donald Trump doesn’t.
‘When I became a man, I put away childish things.’
— 1 Corinthians
Alas, it seems that a substantial portion of the Republican electorate considers this approach to be cute — or, at least, necessary. I do not. When William Brown believes that he is Blackbeard because he has a fencepost in his hand and some soil smushed into his face, it is endearing; when Donald Trump believes that he can will himself into Lincoln’s shoes simply by mentioning his name, it is scary. When William Brown offers up whatever expedient lies will help him escape the scrape he’s got himself into, it is diverting and funny; when Donald Trump demonstrates his willingness to say anything so that he can live another day, it is an alarming preview of the manner in which he would wield power.
#related#We are accustomed in the West to allowing children their innocence for as long as we possibly can, but we tend nevertheless to begrudge its continuation into adulthood – especially when responsibility and duty come knocking unexpectedly at the door. To carve an exception to this rule for a man who seeks the highest office in the land would be the most irresponsible folly. “When I was a child,” it says in 1 Corinthians, “I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child. But when I became a man, I put away childish things.” It is time for the adults in the room to put away childish things and to punish those who would wield them as sharp, poisonous weapons against verity. This is a republic, Mr. Trump. It is not a gold-lined playroom.