DONALD TRUMP IS THE TYRANT THE FIRST PRESIDENT FEARED

By Tom Nichols

The Atlantic

Last November, during a symposium at Mount Vernon on democracy, John Kelly, the retired Marine Corps general who served as Donald Trump’s second chief of staff, spoke about George Washington’s historic accomplishments – his leadership and victory in the Revolutionary War, his vision of what an American president should be. And then Kelly offered a simple, three-word summary of Washington’s most important contribution to the nation he liberated.

“He went home,” Kelly said.

The message was unambiguous. After leaving the White House, Kelly had described Trump as a “person that has no idea what America stands for and has no idea what America is all about.” 

At Mount Vernon, he was making a clear point: People who are mad for power are a mortal threat to democracy. They may hold different titles—even President—but at heart they are tyrants, and all tyrants share the same trait: They never voluntarily cede power. 

The American revolutionaries feared a powerful executive; they had, after all, just survived a war with a king. Yet when the Founders gathered in 1787 to draft the Constitution, they approved a powerful presidential office, because of their faith in one man: Washington.

Washington’s life is a story of heroic actions, but also of temptations avoided, of things he would not do. As a military officer, Washington refused to take part in a plot to overthrow Congress. As a victorious general, he refused to remain in command after the war had ended. As president, he refused to hold on to an office that he did not believe belonged to him. His insistence on the rule of law and his willingness to return power to its rightful owners—the people of the United States—are among his most enduring gifts to the nation and to democratic civilization.

Forty-Four men have succeeded Washington so far. Some became Titans; others finished their terms without distinction; a few ended their service to the nation in ignominy. But each of them knew that the day would come when it would be their duty and honor to return the presidency to the people.

All but one, that is.

Donald Trump and his authoritarian political movement represent an existential threat to every ideal that Washington cherished and encouraged in his new nation. They are the incarnation of Washington's misgivings about populism, partisanship, and the "spirit of revenge" that Washington lamented as the animating force of party politics. 

Washington feared that, amid constant political warfare some citizens would come to "seek security and repose in the absolute power of an individual," and that eventually a demagogue would exploit that sentiment.

Today, America stands at such a moment. A vengeful and emotionally unstable former president – a convicted felon, an insurrectionist, an admirer of foreign dictator, a racist and a misogynist – desires to return to office as an autocrat. 

Trump has left no doubt about his intentions; he practically shouts them them every chance he gets. His deepest motives are to slave his ego, punish his enemies, and place himself above the law. Should he regain the Oval Office, he may well bring bring with him the experience and the means to complete the authoritarian project that he began in his first term.

Many Americans might think of George Washington as someone like an avatar, too distant and majestic to be emulated. American culture has encouraged this distance by elevating him beyond earthly stature: a mural in the Capitol Rotunda depicts him literally as a deity in the clouds. In the capital city that bears Washington's name, other presidents such as Abraham Lincoln and Thomas Jefferson are represented with human likeness; Franklin D. Roosevelt even smiles at us rom ahis wheelchair.

Washington is represented by a towering, featureless obelisk. Such faceless abstraction make it easy to forget the personal choices that he made, decisions that make it easy to forget the difficult choices that he made, decisions that helped the United States avoid the many curses that have destroyed other democracies.

For decades, I taught Washington's military campaigns and lessons of his leadership to military officers when I was a professor at the U.S. Naval College. And yet I, too, have always felt a distance from the man himself. I read his letters, consulted his biographers, and walked the halls of Mount Vernon. I found a man with weakness and shortcomings, but also a leaders who possessed qualities that we once expected – and should again demand – from our presidents, especially as the United States confronts the choice between democracy and demagoguery.

The votes cast in November will be more consequential than those in any other election in more than a century. 

As we judge the candidates, we should give thought to Washington's example, and to three of Washington's most important qualities and the traditions they represent: his refusal to use great power for his own ends, his extraordinary self-command, and, most of all his understanding that national leaders in a democracy are only temporary stewards of a cause far greater than themselves.