By Madeleine Kearns
Wednesday, October 07, 2020
On the cover of yesterday’s New York Post, the
president’s favorite paper, is a picture of Trump, looking regal, and peeling
off his face mask. “FACE OFF,” the headline reads. “Prez claims: ‘Don’t be
afraid of COVID.’” Such a gesture is open to interpretation. Either, you might
say, as some have, that Trump is emulating the kind of Gospel wisdom espoused
by the likes of Pope John Paul II (“Be not afraid”), that what Trump means to
say is that God is in His Heaven, thus, as Julian of Norwich put it, “all shall
be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things will be well.”
Alternatively, you might say that Trump is exhibiting the sort of reckless
personal pride that typically precedes a gigantic tumble.
In either case, the headline does recall the fate of a
certain prime minister of the United Kingdom, who at the beginning of the
coronavirus crisis was quite adamant that human fearlessness was the way to go.
This singularly cheerful chap boasted about his “shaking hands with everybody”
at a hospital he visited — as if COVID-19 worked something like AIDS —
including hands belonging to coronavirus patients. We all know how that turned
out. Boris Johnson contracted the virus, was admitted to the hospital, and
thereafter was moved to an intensive-care unit, where he now says that it
“could have gone either way.” Having fallen gravely ill, Johnson grappled (with
varying degrees of success) with the following issues which we might also
consider in relation to Trump.
Transparency with the
public.
As National Review’s editorial on the subject
reads, “at this sensitive moment, it is of the utmost important that the White
House convey accurate information about the president’s condition.” We opined
that the initial talk of “mild symptoms” and Trump’s going to hospital out of
an “abundance of caution” was “misleading,” as was the White House physician’s
“dancing around to avoid disclosing that the president had received
supplemental oxygen.”
There was a very similar “dancing around” in Britain with
regard to Johnson’s diagnosis. When he was first admitted to the hospital, in
April, Johnson tweeted that he was going in for “some routine tests,” since he
was, after ten days, “still experiencing coronavirus symptoms,” though he
assured the public that he was in “good spirits.” The BBC’s political editor,
Laura Kuenssberg, complained that “after very, very little information was
shared today, the prime minister was taken into intensive care at around 19:00
BST.” The result of this strategy was more fear and distrust, not less.
An opportunity for
political enemies to gain ground.
In response to the president’s positive coronavirus test,
the Biden-Harris campaign removed all negative political ads, as well they
should have. However, lest Trump think that the “outpouring of love,” which has
been “incredible,” should serve his interests, he should consider the case of
Johnson, whose national unity was short-lived and immediately followed by a
major dive in the polls. As Johnson was on his back foot, fighting for his life,
Keir Starmer, leader of the opposition Labour Party, emerged in the public eye
as a compassionate and competent leader. Once the prime minister was back to
work and floundering, Starmer was able to use his new image as leverage while
savaging Johnson during the weekly debate sessions.
Johnson enjoys a comfortable majority in Parliament.
Trump is just weeks before an election. He can’t afford to cede any more ground
in the polls to Biden.
Grandiose claims of
personal strength.
When Johnson was sick, Trump described him as someone who
is “strong” and “doesn’t give up.” Perhaps he sees something of himself in him?
Dominic Raab, the British foreign secretary and second in command, made similar
remarks, noting that he knew Johnson would pull through because he was a
“fighter.” Such rhetoric backfired. Is the implication (asked the indignant
band of BBC journalists) that those who do succumb to the disease are
weak and wimpy?
Regardless of how it was intended, many have also
interpreted Trump’s “Don’t be afraid of COVID,” the disease that has killed
over 200,000 Americans, as a personal insult. Johnson made up for this by,
after his recovery, stressing his struggle with his weight, hence humbling
himself as a man of ordinary vulnerability as well as the great physical
strength for which he insists he is famed. (Johnson once told me that the most
noteworthy thing about him is that he’s “immensely physically strong.”)
From all this, Johnson’s politics have sadly not
recovered. Knocked down by the virus, the prime minister fell a liberal Tory
and has risen a bumbling authoritarian. He has gone from not being cautious
enough to being overly and arbitrarily micromanaging. Initially Johnson’s
popularity ratings soared. No longer. Of course, he can afford this setback (at
least for now). Britain had its last election in December, when he swept up a
massive parliamentary majority. The same cannot be said for Trump, whose health
and political future have never looked more precarious.
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