The department store Nordstrom recently decided to not renew its relationship with Trump's daughter-cum-advisor to provide it with various dresses, scents, baubles, and/or doodads for sale. This led to the following Tweet from Trump on both his personal and official White House accounts:
So, the Invisible Hand of the free market was not at work; it was politics.
Spicer offered slightly more than 140 characters at his press briefing, explaining the utterly understandable reasoning behind the oddity of a president personally and publicly berating a century-old business that employs 72,500 Americans.
"I think this is less about his family's business and an attack on his daughter . . . I think for people to take out their concern about his actions or his executive orders on members of his family, he has every right to stand up for his family and applaud their business activities, their success."
He went on to say the following:
"There's a targeting of her brand and it's her name . . . She's not directly running the company. It's still her name on it. There are clearly efforts to undermine that name based on her father's positions on particular policies that he's taken. This is a direct attack on his policies and her name. Her because she is being maligned because they have a problem with his policies."
However, what made it "clear" that there was an effort to undermine Trump-fille was not . . . well . . . made clear.
Indeed, what we're left with is an "argument" that because Trump perceives this as a slight, it must have been motivated to be a slight.
What is at issue is not whether or nor Nordstrom's decision was political, economic, or some combination of these (although the company itself said the decision was based on poor sales; if it had wanted to publicly rebuke Trump, one would think they would make no bones about their motivation).
Rather, the issue is the fact that even the possibility that it was economic is disallowed by both Trump and Spicer. Without any evidence to question Nordstrom's stated (and eminently understandable) motivations, we are left with the conclusion that it would not be possible for Nordstrom to sever a business tie with a member of the Trump family for any reason without it being lambasted as a personal attack on Trump himself.
In other words, even if one believes (despite lack of evidence) that this decision was made to stick a thumb in Trump's eye, the fact remains that there is no reason to think that even if it had been a decision based on the cold, hard logic of the Excel spreadsheet, the response would have been any different.
On one hand, this underscores the circular, self-reinforcing "logic" lampooned on SNL ("you're words!") and, as such, is amusing.
On the other hand, it raises in miniature the myriad ethical problems encountered when one has a chief executive who sees his governmental position as simply his most recent expansion of his familial empire.
Oh, and FYI, Nordstrom stock was up 4% on the day.
There's a lot that's interesting about this, but one of the most fascinating is that no such apology was demanded of Trump.
This is fascinating because Trump essentially agreed with O'Reilly's characterization. He did not push back against O'Reilly's label; his response was to suggest that this label wasn't all that damning since it could be leveled against "our country."
And it's fascinating because Putin did not demand an apology from both Trump and O'Reilly, only the latter.
Tabling for the moment the twisted attempt at moral equivalence (a recurring feature of Trumpian rhetoric), it is revealing that Trump's defense of Putin is not that he's not a killer, but rather that "there are a lot of killers" in the world. And it's revealing that Putin's honor was besmirched by the premise of the question asked, but not by Trump's acceptance of it.
Is Donald Trump an anti-Semite? Is Steve Bannon? Who knows? Their hearts, such as they are, are not available to us. Only their words and actions are on display.
What is objectively the case is that Trump and those around him have been accused of trading in anti-Semitic rhetoric. From retweeting alt-right memes with anti-Semitic overtones to the airing of a campaign ad widely perceived as invoking anti-Semitic dog whistles to the use of Nazi salutes by supporters, there's been plenty of instances of Trump publicly associated with anti-Semitism.
One might say these are proof positive of his own personal feelings. One might say these are abhorrent political slanders directed at him and his followers by "haters." What one cannot say is that these aren't part of the public discourse around Trump.
Which is why, I think, debates about if/how/why Trump's tone-deaf announcement on Holocaust Remembrance Day is or isn't proof of anti-Semitism miss the point. It is, by definition, an unresolvable argument. What is not arguable is how egregiously stupid it was.
If Trump himself lacks self awareness to such an extent that he is not mindful of this perception, surely his handlers are. Now, thinking purely in terms of practical realpolitik terms, what is the smart play in this situation? Is it not, when presented with an opportunity to undercut such attacks, to do so by following suit with previous presidents who have pointed out the obvious significance of Jewish persecution in the Holocaust (even if one expands "Holocaust" to include all those killed by Nazi extermination programs, not merely Jewish people)?
I'd suggest it is, and moreover, this is true regardless of where on the anti-Semitic spectrum Trump et al. lie. It would the easiest thing in the world to do as a hedge against that line of attack, whether or not those attacks were valid.
Yet, Trump managed to bungle things, coming up with a statement that erased Jewishness entirely from the remembrance.
Whether this erasure was utterly accidental, a result of insensitivity, a strategic dog whistle to the alt-right/white supremacists who make up a significant minority of Trump's most avid fans, or an effect of Trump's own personal hatefulness is almost beside the point, at least for our purposes.
What is inarguable is the rhetorical stupidity of this, whatever the motivation (or lack thereof).
We conclude our look at Trump's inaugural address with the peroration, which focuses on national unity and acquisition, but with an inherently dark tone.
From this moment on, it's going to be America
First.
This, next to "carnage" is the most oft-quoted phrase from the speech in the days that followed. As has been noted by many, "America First" is a phrase loaded with connotations, particularly its use by isolationists in the period between World War I and World War II. It's a phrase that collected anti-Semitic overtones when Charles Lindbergh's, the chair of the "America First Committee" in the years immediately prior to U.S. entry into WWII, was revealed to to have anti-Jewish beliefs.
It leads into the concluding section of the speech, one in which nationalist tendencies are couched in monetary terms. In the excerpts that follow, I will highlight in green all the terms that have economic connotations.
Every decision on trade, on taxes, on
immigration, on foreign affairs, will be made to benefit American workers and
American families. We must protect our borders from the ravages of other
countries making our products, stealing our companies, and destroying our jobs.
Protection will lead to great prosperity and strength.
As we have seen at a number of points, Trump's speech in many ways is a sort of "Bizarro World" version of Kennedy's inaugural speech. In Kennedy's speech, the international threat was quite specific: communism. The world as a whole was a site of potential contest between the values of freedom and those of totalitarianism, with America pledging to fight for the freedom. However, in Trump's vision, the world itself--all "other countries"--are potential threats to the United States. Indeed, they are potential criminals who are "stealing" and "destroying" what is ours. This hearkens back to the more specific remarks about Mexico that Trump made at the beginning of his campaign. The metaphor that emerges is of an America under assault by other countries, even those who are, ostensibly, our allies.
I will fight for you with every breath in my
body -- and I will never, ever let you down.
As we've seen, humility is not a tool available to Trump. Here, at a point where one might expect to hear a new president say something along the lines of "While we will certainly face struggles . . ." or "I know I there will be times when I will make decisions you do not agree with . . ." or at least "The power to make the nation great is more in your hands than mine . . .", Trump instead makes a promise that, taken literally, is ludicrous.
America will start winning again, winning like
never before.We will bring back our jobs. We will bring
back our borders. We will bring back our wealth. And we will bring back our
dreams.
This is hopeful vision, but set against an implicitly dark view of the present. It's not simply "our best days are ahead of us" (a commonplace in American political rhetoric), but a condemnation of America as it is now, suggesting massive unemployment, porous borders, and poverty (all of which are difficult claims to justify at a point at which unemployment is at a historically low level, there is net negative migration with Mexico, and the United States is unquestionably the wealthiest nation in the world).
We will build new roads, and highways, and
bridges, and airports, and tunnels, and railways all across our wonderful
nation.
We will get our people off of welfare and back
to work -- rebuilding our country with American hands and American labor.
We will follow two simple rules: Buy American
and hire American.
This passage seems to borrow generally from 1980s-era rhetoric, particularly during the period when growing anxiety over foreign (particularly Japanese) domination of the automobile market was highest. However, as was noted in the campaign, Trump is in danger of seeming hypocritical, given his own businesses' penchant for buying foreign steel for construction projects and manufacturing goods outside of the U.S. (perhaps most famously revealed in an interview with David Letterman).
We will seek friendship and goodwill with the
nations of the world -- but we do so with the understanding that it is the
right of all nations to put their own interests first.
We do not seek to impose our way of life on
anyone, but rather to let it shine as an example for everyone to follow.
This is a passive version of "America as the defender of freedom" that became such a commonplace in post-War American political rhetoric, and a tacit condemnation of military interventionism. However, in the next sentence, we get the following:
We will reinforce old alliances and form new
ones -- and unite the civilized world against radical Islamic terrorism, which
we will eradicate completely from the face of the Earth.
In an apparent volte-face, Trump says America will lead the "civilized world" against Islamic terrorism, which will be eradicated. As in the "I will never ever let you down" line, Trump is making a dramatic promise that, almost by definition, cannot be fulfilled. One might limit the damage of such terrorism or even oversee the destruction of particular groups (e.g.. Isis, Al-Qaeda), but as so many have pointed out since the "war on terrorism" was declared, one cannot eradicate a non-physical entity. As long as anyone, anywhere commits an act of violence in the name of a political cause, terrorism (radically Islamic or otherwise), cannot be eradicated. However, as has been typical of Trumpian rhetoric, the value seems to be in the willingness to make dramatic promises, with the understanding that they will be forgotten (or there lack of fulfillment forgiven) in the end.
At the bedrock of our politics will be a total
allegiance to the United States of America, and through our loyalty to our
country, we will rediscover our loyalty to each other.
When you open your heart to patriotism, there
is no room for prejudice. The Bible tells us, "How good and pleasant it is
when God's people live together in unity." We must speak our minds openly, debate our
disagreements honestly, but always pursue solidarity.
This is a passage that I have seen discussed far less than other parts of the speech, but which strikes me as among the most totalitarian-tinged moments in the speech. "Total allegiance" to the nation is called for, which is consubstantial with loyalty with other individuals. Loyalty to the country will erase any other divisions. This is eerily reminiscent of the following line from the "Proclamation to the German Nation" by Adolf Hitler on February 1st, 1933 (the nearest equivalent of an inaugural address in this context, since was the speech given two days after Hitler became Chancellor):
"We of this Government feel responsible for the restoration of orderly life in the nation and for the final elimination of class madness and class struggle. We recognize no classes, we see only the German people, millions of peasants, bourgeois, and workers who will either overcome together the difficulties of these times or be overcome by them."
The quotation from the Bible is a nod to inaugural tradition. Not only is "God" or "Providence" mentioned in most inaugural addresses, but overt quotations from scripture have become fairly commonplace. Indeed, Billy Graham is reported to have provided Kennedy a wide selection of Biblical verses from which to choose for incorporation into his inaugural.
When America is united, America is totally
unstoppable.
There should be no fear -- we are protected,
and we will always be protected. We will be protected by the great men and
women of our military and law enforcement and, most importantly, we are
protected by God.
The invoking of the "unstoppable" nature of America carries the connotation of competition or battle, and the overt reference to the military and law enforcement's ability to ensure that we will "always be protected" continues to echo totalitarian themes.
Finally, we must think big and dream even
bigger.
In America, we understand that a nation is
only living as long as it is striving. We will no longer accept politicians who are
all talk and no action -- constantly complaining but never doing anything about
it.
The time for empty talk is over. Now arrives
the hour of action.
Do not let anyone tell you it cannot be done.
No challenge can match the heart and fight and spirit of America.
We will not fail. Our country will thrive and
prosper again. We stand at the birth of a new millennium,
ready to unlock the mysteries of space, to free the Earth from the miseries of
disease, and to harness the energies, industries and technologies of tomorrow.
A new national pride will stir our souls, lift
our sights, and heal our divisions. It is time to remember that old wisdom our
soldiers will never forget: that whether we are black or brown or white, we all
bleed the same red blood of patriots, we all enjoy the same glorious freedoms,
and we all salute the same great American Flag.
This is again an attempt to constitute the people as a patriotic mass, undifferentiated via the power of nationalistic pride.
And whether a child is born in the urban
sprawl of Detroit or the windswept plains of Nebraska, they look up at the same
night sky, they fill their heart with the same dreams, and they are infused
with the breath of life by the same almighty Creator. So to all Americans, in every city near and
far, small and large, from mountain to mountain, and from ocean to ocean, hear
these words:
This continues to appeal to unity, evoking the lyrics to "America the Beautiful."
You will never be ignored again.
Your voice, your hopes, and your dreams will
define our American destiny. And your courage and goodness and love will
forever guide us along the way.
It is significant that, unlike most of his other public statements (especially those that are unscripted), this speech is lacks the abundance of self-referential language that is often characteristic of Trump's speech. Indeed, it seems that those who fashioned the speech (a group that might or might not include Trump himself), bent over backwards to limit the self-referential terms as much as possible. In fact, this inaugural speech is significantly less self-referential than many of those considered canonical in the American political canon.
Here, in the peroration, Trump focuses on "you" language, then changes to "we" language, referring to himself only as part of the collective:
Together, We will make America strong again.
We will make wealthy again.
We will make America proud again.
We will make America safe again.
And yes, together, we will make America great
again. Thank you. God bless you.
And God bless America.
The invocation of God's blessing has become an almost necessary closing of inaugural addresses, at least in the post-war era, and here.
But again, we have an example of why many commentators have noted the "darkness" of Trump's speech. Even at the point at which he is attempting to be most inspiring, the words implicitly paint a dark picture of the present: we are not wealthy, we are not proud, we are not safe, and we are not great.
In our third of four part look at the inaugural address of Trump, we see probably the most (in)famous part of the speech, one in which Trump conjures an image of desolation with a host of negative images.
However, this is anticipated by a brief bucolic summary of what Americans want and deserve:
Americans want great schools for their
children, safe neighborhoods for their families, and good jobs for themselves.
These are the just and reasonable demands of a righteous public.
This continues from the previous section, in which Trump says that the purpose of a nation is to serve its citizens (drawing a distinction between the collective idea of nationhood and the sum of atomostic "citizens" who make "demands." Although the word "demands" suggests harshness, this is tempered with the adjectives "just and reasonable" followed by the description of the public itself as "righteous" (with its connotations of religious rectitude).
Then, Trump contrasts this with a pseudo-apocalyptic vision.
But for too many of our citizens, a different
reality exists: Mothers and children trapped in poverty in our inner cities;
rusted-out factories scattered like tombstones across the landscape of our
nation; an education system flush with cash, but which leaves our young and
beautiful students deprived of knowledge; and the crime and gangs and drugs
that have stolen too many lives and robbed our country of so much unrealized
potential.
This American carnage stops right here and
stops right now.
Not only do we get the word that has most often been quoted in the days since the speech, "carnage", but we get a host of similarly dark words (in a speech notable for its overall darkness: trapped, poverty, rusted-out, tombstones, deprived, crime, gangs, drugs, stolen, robbed, unrealized.
Indeed, a number of these words are being used for the first time in any presidential inaugural, making these two sentences the most idiosyncratically Trumpian of the speech. And of these words, all but one is negative.
In their review of the speech, the Washington Post noted the words that appeared in this speech for the first time in the history of inaugural addresses. Below is their list, with the words appearing in this section highlighted. (It is worth noting, by-the-by, the degree to which the rest of this Trumpian vocabulary is made up of words with negative connotations.)
Trump pivots momentarily, asking the audience to identify with those left behind. This is the one overt move made to suggest consubstantiality among all Americans.
We are one nation -- and their pain is our
pain. Their dreams are our dreams; and their success will be our success. We
share one heart, one home, and one glorious destiny.
The phrase "glorious destiny" invokes the 19th century, particularly in the years just prior to the Civil War, when the phrase was a popular one used in both religious and political contexts--in fact, in its political use, it was clearly invoked for its religious overtones. It is found in the speeches of, among others, Stephen Douglas and Henry Clay. There is also the faintest echo of the Clinton commonplace: "I feel your pain."
The oath of office I take today is an oath of
allegiance to all Americans.
For many decades, we've enriched foreign
industry at the expense of American industry; subsidized the armies of other
countries while allowing for the very sad depletion of our military; we've
defended other nation's borders while refusing to defend our own; and spent
trillions of dollars overseas while America's infrastructure has fallen into
disrepair and decay.
We've made other countries rich while the
wealth, strength, and confidence of our country has disappeared over the
horizon.
One by one, the factories shuttered and left
our shores, with not even a thought about the millions upon millions of
American workers left behind.
The wealth of our middle class has been ripped
from their homes and then redistributed across the entire world.
The more domestic failures of the previous section are now revisited, but on a larger scale. Putting aside issues of veracity regarding the claims made, what is notable is the negativity mixed with a shifting sense of agency.
The passage begins with Trump saying that he individually is taking an oath of allegiance to Americans, suggesting his personal agency in bringing about change. Then, in the litany of ways in which America has put other countries before our own, Trump uses the pronoun "we." This may be because the first half of this list contrasts neglect with actions that could be seen as positives: subsidizing the defense of other nations, defending their borders, and providing money for development. The audience is positioned as a collective "we" who have victimized ourselves through our own shortsighted generosity.
However, toward the conclusion, issues of agency become more muddied as the actions become completely negative. Factories have shuttered and left on their own. It's unclear who has not even had a thought about American workers or who has ripped their homes from them. Again, this allows the audience to populate the unnamed agents of these deeds with their own personal bogeymen and to assume that these are exactly those Trump means.
But that is the past. And now we are looking
only to the future. We assembled here today are issuing a new decree to be
heard in every city, in every foreign capital, and in every hall of power.
From this day forward, a new vision will
govern our land.
This passage bears a vague resemblance to the beginning of the Kennedy inaugural, with its insistence that are now focusing on the future rather than the past: "Let the word go forth from this time and place, to friend and foe alike, that the torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans." In addressing its message to a global audience, it also invokes this part of Kennedy's speech: "Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe to assure the survival and the success of liberty."
However, much as he reversed Kennedy's purpose earlier in the speech, Trump again alludes to Kennedy's words while specifically negating Kennedy's vision. The 1960 inaugural famously focused on global events, making a case for the role of the U.S. in the world as a defender of freedom, an ally of democracies, and a protector of our hemisphere. In Trump's vision, America is reneging on Kennedy's promises, with its vision turned decisively inward.
Two themes are introduced at this point in the speech. The first and most important is the dichotomy between "Washington" and "the people." As Karlyn Kohrs Campbell and Kathleen Hall Jamieson note in their chapter on inaugural rhetoric in Presidents Creating the Presidency: Deeds Done in Words, perhaps the first and most important role of a presidential inaugural speech is to "constitute the people"--to say who and what "we the people" are. It is an act of unification in the wake of an election.
However, starting with this passage, Trump's speech takes a substantially different (and darker) path. "The people" are unified not in a common purpose or in devotion to common ideals, but as the victims of the federal government itself--the government that Trump now stands at the head of.
Potential parallels to this might be Andrew Jackson's inaugural address or Reagan's first ("government is the problem"). However, as we will see in future posts, Trump's portrayal of this adversarial relationship is far darker and uncut with optimism in the way the these two speeches were.
Part of the tactics involved are the vague phrases "for too long." and "a small group." The first phrase allows individual audience members to fill in the specifics of the timeline themselves. If they felt Washington had "reaped the rewards" specifically during the Obama administration, they could safely assume that this is what Trump meant. But if they felt it had gone on longer, they could read this meaning into Trump's words.
Similarly, "a small group" allows the audience to fill in their own dramatis personae. Obama? Democrats? The federal government? Politicians in general? Any and all interpretations are open. Much like the dreaded "They/Them" of paranoid conspiracy rhetoric, the vagueness of "a small group" allows the audience to both enjoy the frisson of fear that comes from the idea of an unseen-but-all-controlling enemy and disperse this fear by populating this group with their chosen enemies--an all-the-more enjoyable pursuit given that it happens in the context of a savior announcing the defeat of this menace.
A second theme that emerges that will pick up steam as the speech continues is the use of monetary terminology. Here, we are told that the people have "borne the cost" while not sharing in the "wealth" of the nation. Such language will grow more common in the latter part of the speech.
The
establishment protected itself, but not the citizens of our country. Their
victories have not been your victories; their triumphs have not been your
triumphs; and while they celebrated in our nation's capital, there was little
to celebrate for struggling families all across our land.
In a series of antitheses, Trump builds on the "us/them" theme. The unnamed cabal members have won victories and triumphs in which the people did not share. Again, vagueness is used, this time in alluding to the victims of this conspiracy: struggling families. This phrase again allows any audience member to place themselves among the victimized--as long as they felt they had somehow "struggled".
On the other hand, the phrase isn't entirely vague. It is not struggling people, Americans, or citizens. It is specifically struggling families. This is an attempt to engage the pathos of the audience by suggesting that the ne'er-do-wells in Washington are particularly victimizing domesticity. (It also brings up association with "family values"--a phrase that gained traction in conservative rhetoric in the 1980s.).
We also have the use of the language of ownership: our country, our nation's capital, our land; their victories, their triumphs. This will continue throughout the rest of the speech.
That
all changes -- starting right here, and right now, because this moment is your
moment: it belongs to you.
Inaugural addresses traditionally involve some presidential take on the "it's not about me; it's all for you." Often, this takes the form of the president saying that the people ultimately have more power than he does. In this case, however, Trump suggest that, while the moment "belongs to you" (note the use of an ownership metaphor), it does so precisely because Trump is assuming the presidency.
It belongs to everyone gathered here today and
everyone watching all across America. This is your day. This is your
celebration. And this, the United States of America, is your country.
Trump emphasizes the idea of ownership. The moment, the day, the celebration, and the nation itself are possessions of "you."
A problematic aspect of this, however, is that it's unclear who "you" refers to here. At the same time, Trump seems to be attempting to constitute Americans generally as the "you" to whom he refers, but in this context, he also seems to be speaking specifically to his own supporters. He presumably understands all-too-well that, given his loss by nearly 3,000,000 votes, a minority of Americans are "celebrating."
What truly matters is not which party controls
our government, but whether our government is controlled by the people. January
20th 2017, will be remembered as the day the people became the rulers of this
nation again. The forgotten men and women of our country will be forgotten no
longer.
We have an echo of the time-honored tradition of suggesting that party affiliation does not matter now (a tradition that, as we noted, goes as far back as Jefferson). However, this is done not in the context of unification, but in further defining the nation in Manichean terms, with "the people" triumphing over the unnamed enemies in government.
And again, Trump gives his audience the ability to read themselves into the phrase "forgotten men and women."
Everyone is listening to you now.
This line encapsulates the contradictory aspect of Trump's attempts to "constitute the people"--the first order of business in an inaugural. Who is "you"? And who is the "everyone" who is listening to "you" now?
You came by the tens of millions to become
part of a historic movement the likes of which the world has never seen before.
At the center of this movement is a crucial conviction: that a nation
exists to serve its citizens.
The first line of this passage is an obvious case of hyperbole. Of more interest is the final line. It is as close as Trump comes to articulating a governing philosophy (another essential component of an inaugural address, according to Campbell and Jamieson). For one, in his view "the nation" is not consubstantial with its citizens. The nation is a construction that exists independently of the citizenry, and it is created to serve them.
This might seem like a commonplace, but it turns a central component of many inaugural addresses--a call to citizens to action--on its head. Indeed, it is an almost complete reversal of the most famous line in one of the most famous inaugurals in history:"Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country."
In the vision of citizenship that emerges from Trump's rhetoric, asking what your country can do for you is what all citizens ought to be doing.
With the inauguration of the 45th president, we begin the work of this blog in earnest. Let us not engage in rhetorical analysis out of fear, but let us not fear to engage in rhetorical analysis.
The next several posts will deal with the inaugural address given by Trump. Rather than one long journal-article-length post, we'll go through the speech in sections, looking at both how it is similar and markedly different than other speeches in the genre.
I'll also make a point from here on out of identifying posts as "academic" or "editorial" in tone. The former will be relatively neutral, semi-scholarly glosses or analyses of texts. The latter will be more informal responses from a political point of view. This post is in the "academic" category.
Below is the opening section of the speech, with comments inserted.
Chief Justice Roberts, President Carter, President Clinton, President Bush, President Obama, fellow Americans, and people of the world: Thank you.
This is a fairly typical opening. One slight deviation is Trump addressing "fellow Americans" rather than fellow citizens. The mention of "people of the world" in the opening is unusual, although it directly echoes the conclusion of JFK's inaugural address that overtly broadens the audience to address people beyond America's boundaries.
We, the citizens of America, are now joined in a great national effort to rebuild our country and to restore its promise for all of our people.
Trump makes an initial move to identify himself as a "citizen"--as a member of the same collective as those to who he addresses his remarks.
The line overtly echoes a line from the Gettysburg Address: "Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure", an attempt to parallel a movement he sees himself leading to the Civil War.
Together, we will determine the course of America and the world for years to come.
We will face challenges. We will confront hardships. But we will get the job done.
This is one of the final times in the inaugural address that Trump speaks of a collective without an overt enemy or opposition.
Every four years, we gather on these steps to carry out the orderly and peaceful transfer of power, and we are grateful to President Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama for their gracious aid throughout this transition. They have been magnificent.
This has become an almost mandatory move in inaugural addresses: invoking the occasion as a celebration of the peaceful transfer of power.
Today's ceremony, however, has very special meaning. Because today we are not merely transferring power from one administration to another, or from one party to another -- but we are transferring power from Washington, D.C. and giving it back to you, the American People.
At this point in the address, Trump's tone changes decisively and permanently toward a more Manichean worldview. It ties the previously mentioned standard invocation of the peaceful transfer of power together with the nearly-as-standard mention of the occasion transcending party (something that is first invoked by Jefferson and mentioned in a number of other memorable inaugurals, including JFK's). But then, it changes, setting up a dichotomy that structures the rest of the speech, setting Washington D.C. (used as a synecdoche for the federal government) at odds with "the people." This is the contrast that will shape the rest of the address and make it quite unlike (and in some cases absolutely antithetical) to other inaugurals, particularly those considered examples of "great" speeches.
One aspect of Trump's rhetoric that emerged from the parody of Pericles in the previous post is that one particular tool speakers have at there disposal is humility. Pericles uses it to great effect, framing his speech in terms of his own inability to do justice to those being honored. An even more famous example is Lincoln's "Gettysburg Address" in which he claims that future generations will "little note nor long remember" what he said, but will never forget those who are honored.
Humility, humbleness, self-deprecation--all are aspects of an important public speaking quality a careful orator can deploy. At least if that orator is not named "Donald Trump."
Trump's brand seems largely based on an unwillingness and/or inability to be anything other than boastful. Imagining Trump saying with any sincerity that he is less than great is nearly impossible.
One specific example of this came in his speech yesterday at the Lincoln memorial. Interestingly, he tries to frame the speech by saying it's more about "you" (the audience) than it is about him. But an examination of the actual text--and hence the rhetorical landscape constructed by the speech--shows a continual fixation on Trump placing himself front and center.
This can actually be objectively measured. The program Diction is a content analysis tool that quantifies thematic aspects of public discourse by examining the types and categories of words used. You can learn more about the way it does this here.
Running these two texts through Diction is an interesting exercise that points to a number of threads that could be pulled on, but let's focus on just one: self-reference.
This is a variable Diction uses to calculate how focused on speaker is on himself/herself--the extent to which their vision is limited to themselves. It does this by indexing the number of times the speaker uses self-referencing words ("I", "me", etc.).
You might expect that a speech known as the "I have a dream . . ." speech would score highly on this scale, if for no other reason than the repeated "I" in the conclusion. But it doesn't. In fact, King's speech is slightly less self-referential than other comparable speeches.
Trump's speech, on the other hand, scores well above the norm, with an unusually high index of self-reference.
One reason for this is that, as the creators of Diction understand, one can still create a speech that is inherently focused on oneself even if, on the surface, the speaker is denying this. "You won't believe how great I'm going to be about making this about you rather than me" (to use a laughably extreme example) is still placing the speaker front and center.
In other words, Trump creates a rhetorical worldview in his speech that revolves around himself even as he claims to be doing the opposite.
If noticed, this can be an embarrassing and almost ludicrous aspect of public discourse. If not noticed, it can become a seductively powerful, even dangerous tool, one that demagogues tend to share: an ability to get an audience to think it's all about them when it's really all about him.
