Sunday, 13 November 2016

Is it time to learn to love Donald Trump?



So, there we are. The little ‘first woman president’ fantasy was not to be. As I suspected three posts back, it was foolish to expect something fabulous to happen.

Instead, we have the complete opposite – a randy old sexist businessman in the oval office married to a former glamour model. Ouch. It’s like Berlusconi all over again but far worse.
It is all rather depressing, especially for us ‘liberal elites’ as we tie ourselves in knots tapping away at our blogs unpicking this apparent disaster.

Meanwhile, on the streets, there is anger – and fear – that Mr Trump will unravel Obama’s achievements for minorities and the poor and seek the persecution of immigrants.

It’s true, those of us who opposed Trump must get all of this off our chests and go through a mourning process for what might have been.
But soon – unless there is a dramatic assassination or impeachment – we are going to have to start to get used to Trump in office. Our politicians are going to have to make friends with him. Making friends with your enemies can be the best way to control them.

Now, the more outraged and principled among us may insist that we must reject him, and continue to rage against the prospect of his presidency. But in doing that – we reject the democratic process. And as far as I know, the election wasn’t rigged.

I’m somewhat in agreement with Boris Johnson (I don’t say that too often) that indulging in a ‘whinge-o-rama’ is not going to get us anywhere (that guy really should get a newspaper column…)

Sure, we need to get over the shock horror of waking up last Wednesday with the prospect of the unthinkable having happened. But we need to drink some wine and then move on.

It might be hard, but we must find something to love in Trump…he must have an upside apart from all that cash. As I stare at a picture of him across my desk, I try to imagine that maybe, quietly at home on a Sunday, he’s a lovely guy who praises his wife’s cooking and offers to clean out the cat litter tray. If I squint hard enough, he looks sort of like a kindly uncle with a silly haircut.
Perhaps we should also give him the benefit of the doubt on the racist and sexist pronouncements: maybe he has a form of Tourette’s and his podium-blatherings have no connection to his actual thoughts.

Even though these declarations obviously appeal to the racists and sexists, perhaps they won’t amount to a great deal more than hot air and those voters will be bitterly disappointed.
We can always pray that the forces of democracy will unseat Trump soon. But in the meantime, let’s just try to imagine him in his slippers, putting up a shelf in the lounge of his mansion, worrying about what compelled him to say “build a wall”.

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