In the wake of the Christchurch Massacre last week, it is growing more
and more difficult—even for those who would like to un-disingenuously and
legitimately give him the benefit of the doubt—not to see US President Donald
Trump as a blatant white nationalist. While it may be scary enough to have a white
supremacist in the White House, the most frightening part of this assessment is
that, for a large part of his far-right following, this very likely comes as
good news.
From the outset of his current term in office and during the campaign
leading up to it, Trump has tended to cater to the paranoid sensibilities of
American xenophobes and to those of a segment of the white population that sees
the possibility of its eventually becoming a minority as a threat to what it
has come to believe should be the “established order” in the United States of
America. The positive idea of diversity that sees the United States as a
melting pot of nationalities, religions, ethnicities and races is anathema to
this group, and apparently to the president as well, since he encourages the notion
among his predominately white Christian base that they are what a “true American”
looks like and that he is governing for them and them alone.
The president’s white-nationalist leanings come as no surprise to most
unabashed liberals. This is especially true, for instance, after the
president’s dogged defense in 2017 of neo-Nazi demonstrators in
Charlottesville, Virginia, who clashed with counter-demonstrators, one of whom,
Heather Heyer, was murdered.
While Trump called the killing a horrible thing, he refused to distance
himself from the white supremacists who triggered the violence, equating them seamlessly
with the counter-demonstrators, saying that there were “many fine people” on
both sides of the clash and that one side was as guilty as the other of
prompting the incidents. He made the point that, indeed, the white supremacists
had a permit to demonstrate while counter-demonstrators didn’t, thus seeking to
legitimize the nature of the neo-Nazi demonstration while laying more blame for
the violence at the door of the racially diverse counter-protesters.
"Some fine people on both sides" |
Whatever medium the president was perusing to reach such a conclusion
apparently wasn’t any of the ones other Americans were viewing when they saw white-nationalist
demonstrators descending on the quiet college town wearing Confederate flags
and swastikas, some packing weapons and holding shields, chanting phrases such
as “blood and soil” and “Jews will not replace us” before engaging counter-protesters
in fist and club fights that quickly turned into a violent general riot.
So appeasing was the president’s defense of the neo-Nazis that it
prompted a tweet from former Ku Klux Klan “grand wizard” David Duke thanking
Trump for his “honesty and courage” in “condemning the leftist terrorists” who
opposed the white nationalists in Charlottesville. The outrage that Trump’s
statements caused back then spilled over from liberal Democrats into the
Republican political community as well. For example, the chairman of the
National Republican Congressional Committee, Ohio Republican Steve Stivers,
tweeted, “I don't understand what's so hard about this. White supremacists and
Neo-Nazis are evil and shouldn't be defended.” Still, even following this
incident, many independents and “undecideds” have often been willing to write
off the president’s most outrageous pronouncements with the “oh-that’s-just-how-he-talks”
defense.
New Zealand PM Jacinda Ardern, empathy above all |
Last weekend, after the horrific attacks on two Islamic mosques in
Christchurch, New Zealand, Trump ignored a plea from New Zealand Prime Minister
Jacinda Ardern on Friday for him to offer “his nation’s sympathy and love for
all Muslim communities.” The New Zealand leader had made the request when Trump
called to ask her what the United States could do for her country, in the face
of an attack on two mosques by a single white nationalist armed with assault
weapons, in which 50 people were killed and many others injured.
Trump’s tepid and belated condolences to New Zealand, for what was the
worst terror attack in that country’s history, were followed by his almost
immediate minimization of the white supremacist threat. Asked by a reporter at
the White House, where he was meeting with “the Trump of the tropics”,
Brazilian far-right leader Jair Bolsonaro, whether he thought white-nationalist
terrorism was a growing threat, Trump responded, “I don’t really. I think it’s
a small group of people that have very, very serious problems, I guess.”
In order to separate fact from presidential fiction, one only needs to
consult a February report from the respected Southern Poverty Law Center. Its
research shows that there are currently over a thousand far-right nationalist
hate groups across the United States. This total, the report indicates, is at
an all-time high and the think-tank notes that, in 2018 alone, there was an
increase in the death toll tied to the radical right, with white supremacists
in the United States and Canada having killed at least 40 people. And this
reading of the trend is backed up by US Department of Justice and FBI indicators
as well.
These reactions are part and parcel of President Trump’s—for him
subtle—pattern of behavior that tends to reveal his preferences in responding
to acts of Islamic extremism and white-nationalist attacks. Hate crimes carried
out by Muslims elicit an immediate and definitive presidential response.
Attacks that target Muslims, however, receive belated and/or tepid reactions
from Trump, to such an extent that his sincerity is seriously brought into
question.
His timing seems often either mindlessly insensitive or intentionally
prejudiced. Amid shocked world reactions to the New Zealand Massacre, Trump was
tweeting his support for Fox News commentator Jeanine Pirro, whom the
infotainment network suspended last Saturday for making an anti-Muslim
reference to Congresswoman Ilha Omar of Minnesota.
In the lengthy white-supremacist rant that the New Zealand shooter wrote
before carrying out his mass slaughter, he mentioned Trump as “a symbol of
renewed white identity and common purpose.” Showing sincere sympathy for all
Muslim communities would have gone a long way toward separating Trump from the
ideology behind such attacks. Instead, his collaborators in the West Wing, like
Mick Mulvaney and Kellyanne Conway had to scramble to do damage control,
suggesting that it was ridiculous to describe the president as a white
nationalist or to make any connection between the New Zealand mass murderer’s
manifesto and Trump’s embracing of a far-right nationalist philosophy, while
the president chose to take to Twitter and attack everyone and everything from union
workers to France, and even late senator and Vietnam war hero John McCain and
McCain’s daughter.
There was little enough evidence already to lend any kind of credibility
to Mulvaney and Kellyanne’s ardent defense of the president’s lack of prejudice
on this topic. There is, in fact, ample proof to the contrary. From his
campaign through the first couple of years of his presidency Trump has, among
other things, threatened to surveil or close mosques in the US and bar Muslim
immigration, suggested throwing all Syrians out of the country (“they could be
ISIS, I don’t know”) and creating a Muslim database to keep an eye on all
people of Islamic faith, said that “Muslims hate us” with ‘us’ apparently
meaning white Christians, and falsely claimed to have seen thousands of Muslims
cheering in the street when the Twin Trade Towers collapsed after Islamist
terrorists from Saudi Arabia hijacked American planes and flew them into the
iconic New York buildings, killing thousands of people. And these are only a
few of the occasions on which the president has sought to stir up indiscriminately
anti-Muslim sentiment.
The truth is that in every opportunity that the US president takes to refer
to neo-Nazis as “fine people”, to consider Muslims as a whole somehow suspect,
or to refer to immigrants as “an invasion” or as an “infestation”, he is
contributing, wittingly or unwittingly to the further radicalization of already
extremist white-power and ultra-nationalist segments of society.
Going from being a melting-pot nation, built by immigrants and founded
by pilgrims fleeing persecution in their native lands, to being a bastion of
closed society philosophy and of racial and religious hatred flies in the face
of long-held American principles. As do proposals for barring certain peoples
as a whole, or creating walled citadels along the country’s border to punctuate
the radical autism of xenophobic policies.
The main question to ask is, what’s so hard about unequivocally
condemning violent white-supremacist movements? Unless you agree with them.
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