Archives for May 2017

Following Montana’s special election last week, the use of fighting words to describe our politics feels oddly uncomfortable right about now. Those pugilistic political euphemisms we so love much—phrase like candidates exchanging “body blows”, or rebuffing media “attacks”, or going to the mat for fiscal policy “fisticuffs”—seem inappropriate at the nonce. If said in polite society, you too might get a “too soon” glare.

We can thank Greg Gianforte for this. Gianforte is the Republican candidate aiming to replace Montana’s congressman Ryan Zinke—who now serves as President Trump’s Secretary of the Interior—in the House of Representatives. In Zinke’s absence, the law requires someone to step in and fill his seat. Gianforte thinks himself just the man for the job.

He’s a hardened conservative of fifty-six and a business behemoth. His net worth exceeds $315 million, and through his career, he’s had a hand in business, engineering, and politics. You would think him adroit, and able to grasp many things as they come, but in the waning hours before the election that would add to his already successful pedigree, Gianforte lost his grip on civility.

To lose one’s grip is forgivable, so long as the hands busy themselves with innocuous occupations. Some stave off their idle hands’ instincts by keeping them in pockets or twiddling thumbs. Others simply sit on them. To each his own, but for Gianforte, neither of these past times appealed to him. Instead, in the furor of an unhinged reptilian response, Gianforte grabbed The Guardian’s political reporter Ben Jacobs and slammed him to the ground. What, you may ask, did the journalist do to deserve such uncongenial treatment? What sort of a transgression could’ve prompted this response?

The craft of Jacobs’ trade was his aggravating offense; the sedulous work of the fourth estate his sin. Doubtless infused with temerity and surely looking for a fight, Jacobs posed a wonky question to Gianforte about the recent healthcare bill and the Congressional Budget Office’s appraisal of it. A wanton body slam is what Jacobs received in turn. If such a question doesn’t stoke the fistic flame in a man, nothing will. The exchange was captured in its entirety on audio and corroborated by others on the scene. You can audibly hear Jacobs being brought to the ground.

Some of the more indecent commentators on the far Right are of the mindset that Jacobs “had it coming”. Others are lauding Gianforte for giving a pesky pundit his just deserts. Essentially, these marginal commentators see in Jacobs the media at-large. He represents that which they love to loathe; a trenchant yuppie pretentious and transgressing. To them, he’s the epitome of the effete liberal pest biting at their feet. And pests must be swept away (or stomped into tomorrow). Many of these far-Right commentators and agitators crave a liberal-free media world. They’d rather do away with the CNN’s, MSNBC’s, Politico’s, and Washington Post’s of the world root and branch. All, as we’ve been told time and again, are fake news.

The loudest trumpeter of the fake news phenomenon is President Trump himself. He’s the pied piper who plays this platitude on a loop. For this reason, some on the Left believe Trump is responsible for prompting Gianforte’s Neolithic answer to an otherwise anodyne question. I think, though, that this rendering gives the president too much credit (if you can call this creditworthy). It also assumes he wields much more influence than he actually does. Aside from a few bewildering beliefs on creationism and aging, Gianforte seems to be a well-adjusted, self-sufficient adult. As I mentioned earlier, during his admirable career as a businessman and engineer, Gianforte was quite the success. I have to believe his failings are independent of the president’s rhetoric and his barbarity his alone to bear. The onus is squarely and only on Gianforte—and not on President Trump.

In responding to the assault, Gianforte’s campaign was downright costive. For days, it dallied in issuing an apology, and when it finally did, the words seemed insincere. Gianforte first tried to impugn Ben Jacobs’ account of the brouhaha. He claimed that it was Jacobs, not he, who started the fight. His claim was that Jacobs grabbed his wrist in a threatening way, and he simply acted out of self-defense. This specious story proved itself to be just that. The audio laid to rest all suspicions. On the tape, you can hear Gianforte acting like the intractable troglodyte that he is.

As such, Gianforte was charged with misdemeanor assault and is due before court in the weeks to come. It’s a charge that fits the crime, but what then of the congressional race? Surely such a brute can’t be fit to fill an estimable seat in D.C.? While you can argue his fitness or lack thereof, the fact is this: Gianforte will indeed be heading to the Capitol as Montana’s newest addition to the House of Representatives. Because of the Big Sky’s remote geographic makeup, most voters had already submitted by mail their choice before this recent kerfuffle. Voters in Montana, often living in bucolic open-spaces many miles away from polling stations, have an easier time sending ballots through the mail. The major newspapers rescinded their support for Gianforte, but it was all too late. His victory was ultimately a fait accompli.

I was intrigued to see how House and Senate Republicans would respond. Would they deny Gianforte his seat, or force him to seek anger-management therapy? Would they themselves resign in protest if such a man were to be granted access to their hallowed halls? To all questions, the answer was a resounding no. Party solidarity, you see, supplants and supersedes human decency. Situated somewhere between prostrate and hypocritical, the Republican Party finds itself shamefully allowing Gianforte to sit. This, from a party whose pillars are prudence, conservative ethics, and self-control, seems to me nearly as disgusting as what Gianforte did.

Aloof, callous, or just completely unconcerned, President Trump tweeted, “Big win in Montana for Republicans” to celebrate Gianforte’s win. I suppose, in a small way, it is a “big win”, but that’s a temporary thing. What’s bigger is what’s been lost. On this list, we add civility and decency, respect and humanity. Someone seeking a position in civil service would do well to remember the word that defines the role: civil. First and foremost, the civil servant must protect the persons he represents—in this case America’s citizens no matter their political persuasion. Gianforte woefully fell short of this most essential imperative. I can only conclude, then, in light of this, that civil politics simply isn’t Gianforte’s forte.

In a matter of a few days, a prominent courthouse in an obscure nation has made headlines. In Bangladesh, there stands a courthouse in the capital city crafted in a refreshingly Western style. In much the same way that other legal centers the world over decorate their grounds, Dhaka (Bangladesh’s capital) had erected a statue of “Lady Justice”. You’ll know her well. The power of her femininity seconds only that of her ubiquity. She can be found everywhere from Canada to the Czech Republic, Italy to Iran, and Australia, Japan, Germany, and Tennessee. In all incarnations, she carries with her the same accoutrements—mainly saber, scale, and blindfold, for justice is in all places sharp, just, and unseeing.

For the past five months in Dhaka, Lady Justice stood, but not without controversy. She became the flashpoint in a debate between those looking to conserve and those to progress; a debate that has its roots in pre-history and one that long precedes statuary in its modern or ancient forms. She soon discovered she was merely a tenuous edifice straddling two worlds. Out of one eye, she looked west (philosophically, that is) at liberalism and equality. Out of the other, she looked back, at mysticism, sectarianism, and intellectual poverty.

In the religious malaise from which she was born, she was laid to rest. At the inexhaustible urgings of religious clerics and zealots, the statue was razed to the ground. Now—in pieces—Lady Justice and Bangladesh look to re-establish themselves in the eyes of a curious world. They’re faced with problems endemic in Southern Asia. Namely, they’re faced with a vice grip of Islamic fundamentalist influence. While Bangladesh tries to wriggle itself free, Lady Justice will be forced to lie in wait.

For any country looking to symbolize its commitment to justice, decency, and legitimacy—and in doing so, make a substantial leap into the 21^st century—a statue like Lady Justice is indispensable. But, not everyone wants these things that are so cherished here at home. Islamists in Bangladesh think their country better off with her services. They call for effigy, not liberty; for their provincial past and not what could be a fledgling future. Hefazat-e-Islam, a homegrown Bangladeshi Islamist group, is leading this conservative rally.

Since the statue was erected, Hefazat-e-Islam has endlessly pressured the Bangladeshi government to take it down. The group responded apoplectically upon seeing none other than a woman, an abomination to its creed, mounted on the government’s soil. They appealed to government officials and to the public at-large and demanded this profanation be brought own. In this, Hefazat-e-Islam succeeded. A demolition crew was sent in the wee-midnight hours to lower the statue down. The government, wise to the fact that Bangladesh’s small group of liberals and secularists wouldn’t receive Lady Justice’s absence warmly, tried to perform this task as inconspicuously as possible in the dead of night. But in time, all awaken, and it didn’t take long before the backlash began. The two sides continued their dispute in the morning and—in a metaphorical sense—that’s exactly where this debate is; it’s still in its earliest stages.

It must be said that Bangladesh is not formally an Islamic or theocratic state. Theirs is a government based on parliament, whose officials are chosen via a representative democracy. As in our own case, secularism is supposed to be sewn in the constitutional DNA. It seems, however, that this pastiche of American liberalism is nothing but a ruse. Bangladesh seems only to preach an enlightened form of governance, not to practice it. This necessarily becomes the case when a state is dominated by a Muslim population whose majority exceeds 90%. Bangladesh, to many people’s surprise, is the third largest Muslim-majority country in the world. The statistic is staggering, considering its size. But being Muslim alone is no reason for concern, so long as he or she is a reformist or forward-thinking. The problem is that most aren’t. Based on Pew Research findings, 82% of Muslims polled in Bangladesh are in favor of making Sharia law the official law of the land.

This is striking. How can it be that a country whose constitution is ostensibly rooted in the liberal ideal is able to think in such a way? It seems as though the constitution and the people’s imperatives don’t align. In light of this statistic, it also becomes clear that Hefazat-e-Islam is no fringe-traipsing ideology. It’s a movement with teeth. A few years ago, the group submitted to the Bangladeshi government a list of suggestions that it considered to be humble improvements. Among the group’s recommendations were harsher punishments for atheists and dissident writers, a greater emphasis on Allah in the constitution, a cessation of “alien culture” penetrating the country, and mandatory Islamic education in public schooling.

To note, in the Draconian scope of Sharia law, these proposed “ameliorations” seem rather tame (at its worst, Sharia advocates the subjection of women, stoning, mutilation, dismemberment, and lex talionis). Nevertheless, it’s no stretch to imagine an impending Sharia overhaul if these illiberal concessions gain favor. This, for all who hope for liberty, justice, and peace, would be an inconsolable shame. Sharia is but a Medieval codex, one far removed from anything Lady Justice would recognize.

At the heart of Hefazat-e-Islam’s qualm in this case is the anthropomorphization of art. Islamic law originally discouraged and later forbade human likeness in sculptures, frescoes, and as was to be later discover, Danish cartoons. The thinking goes that Allah alone gives form to his creation, and much like his words inscribed in the Quran, that form is perfect. Personified art, therefore, is an attempt to compete with Allah’s creative perfection. This is the religious case for why Lady Justice shouldn’t exist.

Based on that doctrinal reading, Hefazat-e-Islam and like-minded Islamists succeeded in bringing the statue down. It seemed like a win for parochialism and a loss for progression. But the victory was partial and fleeting. After two days, Lady Justice has been erected again. This time around, however, she inhabits a much less visible location.

Neither side is satisfied. As it must, the perpetual shoving match between Islamists and progressive ideologues will persist. The former has numbers on its side—overwhelmingly so—while the latter has dreams of liberty. Caught between a rock and a hard place, Bangladesh must decide its future. On one side, the rock pulls with the strength of a Kaaba-sized stone toward fundamentalism. On the other, the hard place builds a wall, which will serve as a high barrier of separation between secularism and its ugly opposite. The path forward is Bangladesh’s to decide.

During President Trump’s commencement speech to the graduating class of young Coast Guardsmen and women, he lingered momentarily on the state of his media malcontent. It’s a sore spot he’s always ready to explore. This time, as he did previously at Liberty University, he lamented about the media’s unfriendliness toward him. His gripe was that “No politician in history…has been treated worse or more unfairly” than he.

As is the case with most of what trickles through Trump’s lips, the line quickly materialized as a meme. It spared little time finding its way to the late-night sketch shows and audiences ate up the cheap chuckles. I was disappointed, though, to see all of the hosts grabbing only for the low-hanging fruit. The easy joke was to compare Trump’s “mistreatment” to that of Abraham Lincoln. While we all know how Lincoln met his end (a Southern dramatist named Booth, hell-bent on killing the “tyrant”) there have been so many other ill-fated politicians throughout history. Closest to our hearts and memories are the Kennedys–Bobby or Jack–or the late Nelson Mandela, but others were treated just as badly.

To fully appreciate mistreatment while in office, you needn’t look further than America’s presidents. You’ll know of at least two who were assassinated in office: Lincoln and Kennedy. Their brilliance in life led to their legends in death, but there are two other lesser-known presidents who died in similar ways. One was William McKinley, who was shot twice by the anarchist, Leon Czolgosz at an expo in Buffalo, New York. At first, it didn’t seem McKinley’s wounds would prove fatal. This optimistic prognosis was short-lived, however. After a week’s convalescence he died a gangrenous death.

When compared with McKinley, Garfield’s final days were far worse. By this, I mean they were prolonged and brutally tortuous. After having been shot twice by Charles Guiteau, Garfield languished for two months as unsophisticated physicians attempted to locate and remove the bullet’s fragments. Their efforts were in vain. Not only did the doctors guess incorrectly about the bullet’s trajectory, they prodded Garfield’s viscera with unsterile fingers. Garfield eventually succumbed to a septic end.

The mistreatment of American politicians didn’t end with Garfield or McKinley. The latter’s successor, Theodore Roosevelt, was himself the recipient of some pain. While en route to a speech in Milwaukee in 1912, Roosevelt was shot in the chest from a quite close distance. The proximity of the shooter and the vital spot he had hit led many on the scene to fear for the former president’s life. Unbeknownst to those worried souls, however, old Teddy would be just fine. As I mentioned, Roosevelt was on his way to deliver a speech. It’s no surprise, then, that stuffed tightly in the breast pocket of his thick overcoat was a folded, fifty-page speech. Roosevelt was known to be as garrulous as he was rugged, and it was his written word that saved the day. Not only did he survive the attempt, but he went on to deliver his ninety-minute, life-saving speech. All this, with a bullet nestled above his fourth rib. His voice may have been dyspneic and at times weak, but he delivered it in full. His staff watched him with unease while Teddy refused medical attention until every last word was spoken.

While we’re on the subject of 1912, we can’t forget about Eugene V. Debs. Rightly or wrongly, he was treated far worse than most politicians in his day. Debs was the infamous Socialist and labor unionist who vied for the presidency five times. A constant thorn in the establishment’s side, he accomplished unexpected political feats. He gathered a relatively small but fervid group of supporters. He organized a cripplingly successful labor strike on the Pullman Company’s rails.

Eventually, much to President Wilson’s delight, Debs was incarcerated for a decade and disenfranchised for a lifetime following the guilty verdict handed down in the case that bears his name. By speaking out against America’s intervention in World War I, Debs infringed the Espionage Act of 1917—an act whose precedence lay in the Supreme Court’s Schenck v United States decision decreed earlier that year. The Espionage Act was later repealed and Debs’ sentence commuted, but his popularity never suffered; the socialist stalwart received nearly one million votes while behind bars.

We remain for now on the topic of espionage, as this next pair of politicians add their names to our list. Both hail from Russia, where a day seldom passes without some politician being mistreated, beaten, or killed. Leon Trotsky was one such politician. The sober historian might say he had it coming, what with his radically recalcitrant life and his baffling resilience. Born Lev Davidovich, he was banished to Siberia more than once. Any man who makes it out of that frigid void once is a man worth noticing. But twice? A man perhaps worth fearing.

Trotsky cleverly escaped, in part by adopting the nom de guerre for which he’s now known, and went on to rally the October Revolution in 1918. He teamed up with Vladimir Lenin and the two led the Red Army during the Bolshevik’s coup d’état. When the dust settled and the U.S.S.R. was entrenched, Lenin was looking for a successor. Trotsky was an option, but was ultimately skipped over for a younger Joseph Stalin, who would go on to rule Russia from 1929 till 1953.

Again, as before, Trotsky succeeded in making himself a persona non-grata with the incoming regime and was banished from the U.S.S.R. He landed in Mexico in what was to become his final exile. While resting at his home, perhaps enjoying a tropical siesta the likes of which he’d never seen in Siberia, Trotsky was attacked by a Soviet henchman named Ramón Mercader. Mercader was given orders from the very top of the Soviet regime, with Stalin himself giving the green-light for this assassination abroad. Mercader chose of all cudgels an ice pick—perhaps the oddest instrument one could find lying around Mexico. The immediate impact wasn’t fatal, and Trotsky fought back, but the trauma was too much. Trotsky died the next day.

From the revolutionist in Trotsky we move to the royalist, the Grand Duke of Russia Sergei Alexandrovich. The two were contemporaries during the Russian Revolution of 1905, a time of unprecedented tumult. Trotsky was a young dissident and Alexandrovich a doomed aristocrat, being that he was Tsar Nicholas II’s uncle. Alexandrovich’s family ties and regal relations made him a prime target in the streets of Moscow, where his avuncular nature mattered much less than it did in the royal courts. Never hesitant to advance a cause, the apparatchiks in revolt threw a nitroglycerin bomb in Alexandrovich’s lap while he sat idle in his carriage. The Tsar’s uncle was strewn about so completely, that when forensic police arrived on the scene, his body was almost beyond recognition.

The Tsar didn’t fare much better. Nicholas II’s reign had ended, and in the most macabre of circumstances, his life was about to as well. The ousted emperor and his family were promised sanctuary, but such promises can’t be kept when the Bolshevik beckons. He and his family were taken by force and brought to the Ipatiev House basement. There, the former royals were fired upon execution-style at close range. The Bolsheviks proved that the highest office has its drawbacks, a proof history will reiterate time and again.

Thanks to our favorite bard Bill Shakespeare, Julius Caesar’s career and assassination are all-too well-known. Our thanks can be extended for the telling of Mark Antony and Cleopatra. Less widely known, though, is the fate suffered by Philip II—the mighty Macedonian who swept from the rugged north into the affected south. History loves him for the son he left behind (Alexander the Great—although ancient Greece and the Near East may disagree), but Philip was no slouch in his own right. Not only did he defeat the Persian emperor Darius III, he succeeded in annexing the all-powerful Athenian state. But it wasn’t fighting in the field that led to this war-hardened politician’s demise. Rather, like Clytemnestra was for Agamemnon, it was a woman’s wrath that brought Philip down. He’d already lost an eye on his wife Olympias’ behalf (the punishment for his voyeurism, for having seen her in bed with a god), but he was bound to lose his life. Fearing a crisis of ascension, Olympias ordered an assassin to take Philip’s life, along with that of his mistress and new son born of the extra-marital affair. Olympias, you see, only wanted what was best for her and Philip’s first-born, Alexander. If only Alexander hadn’t been such a success, Philip might’ve earned our deeper sympathies.

I mentioned Darius III as a man who, like many before and after, succumbed to Philip II’s phalanxes and spears. However, unlike those making up his vast Persian outfits who fell in the fields, Darius was able to skirt capture until the very end. It was one of Darius’ own, a social-climbing peasant, and not the Macedonian conquerors who offered a fatal blow. The peasant cut off Darius’ head, thinking he’d secure Alexander’s good grace and perchance some form compensatory rank. Instead, Alexander was furious and ordered the peasant be put to death. In Alexander’s mind, no monarch, no matter how cowardly he may be, deserved to die in such ignominy. If only Alexander had followed his own prescription and not taken to the bottle, which ultimately led to the downfall of Europe and Asia’s greatest king.

Not far from Alexander’s reach, but far removed in history, was Bleda the Hun on the Hungarian steppe. Bleda, you’ll quickly see, shares his name with a younger and more-accomplished brother. Attila and brother Bleda had a workable relationship for time, but fraternity will yield to ones urges for monarchy. While on a hunting trip, Bleda was assassinated from behind. The hunt complete, Attila moved to consolidate power in his name alone and any thought of a diarchy died.

Moving southward from the steppe, Joannes the Usurper lived in Byzantium in the 5^th century AD—not long after Attila left his crumbling colonies to inept sons. Unlike Attila’s, Joannes’ claim over the territory was suspect at best. It didn’t take long for the Usurper to himself be usurped and tossed to the gruesome whims of a frightful death. First, Joannes’ hand was cleaved. Next, his bloody body was strapped to a donkey and made to traipse about the hippodrome. In the third act, before a well-attended audience filling the stadium, he was made to re-enact the details of his own demise like an actor on the stage. His clemency was his coup de grâce, which came by way of a blade to his neck.

From Byzantium we move east toward India. There, Attila’s soldiers never arrived and Alexander’s never sieged. The first was due to geography, the second to obstinacy (the threat of armed Elephants would be enough to send even a lesser army back to Greece). In India, we find the Gandhis. First there was Mahatma, that paragon of pacifism, vegetarianism, and national pride. Mahatma was murdered for holding Pakistani sympathies at point blank range. He was killed by a Hindu hitman, who thought Mahatma’s stance on Pakistan a profanity and thus a capital offense.

Of the same name but of no immediate relation to Mahatma, we turn next to Indira Gandhi. She was given the name Gandhi not as a matter of consanguinity, but rather as one of credibility. Without it, she might not have succeeded in becoming India’s first and only female Prime Minister to date. Indira’s ideological distance from Mahatma’s was stark. She was considered ruthless and bellicose, where Mahatma was docile and philosophical. However different they may have been in life, they shared a similar death. Indira was murdered by two countrymen—bodyguards no less—after a speech in which she uttered the ominous line, “I am alive today, I may not be there tomorrow”.

Such is the precarious side of politics. The prestige, the power, and the ability to affect change has lured many men and women from every century to buy in. But then as now, the warning on the label remains the same: Caveat emptor, Mr. or Mrs. Emperor!

The only thing missing from President Trump’s Saudi Arabian welcoming party this weekend was a jaunty genie dancing to the soundtrack of “Prince Ali”. In the Disney film, Aladdin the diplomat is received in the city’s gates as a king. In the real world, where the arid Middle Eastern heat lends itself less to song and dance and more to shady siestas, President Trump arrived in a similarly regal fashion. He was welcomed with all of the pomp and circumstance one could imagine. Upon alighting from Air Force One, Trump was met immediately by King Salman with a solicitous embrace and a dragoman by his side. It was a salutation few foreign dignitaries will experience. Salman rushed to greet him with his kyphotic spine and hampered gait.

The Saudis definitely succeeded in putting on a reception fit for a king. Trumpeters filled the air with a tune, until their notes were suppressed by the deafening sounds of jets throttling up above. In their exhaust, the jets left lingering in the air the colors red, white, and blue. If only for a moment, the scene could’ve been a decent segue to a Super Bowl game. Just as suddenly, though, I returned to reality when little veiled ladies came out to hand bouquets of flowers to the president and First Lady. At that moment, I noticed that of the feminine faces on the screen, Melania’s was the only one unobscured by a veil. It was a subtle reminder of the West’s superiority—so long as gender issues are concerned

Excepting Melania’s grace, the entire scene was a bit gaudy and ostentatious—a bit too flashy and fulsome for good taste. President Trump, however, seemed to enjoy the spectacle, and that may be all that matters. It’s hard to know if the veneration given him was superficial or sincere. Do the Saudis see Trump as a man to be manipulated who needs just a little dazzle to be persuaded, or do they see him as a strategic partner for their hesitant vision of a progressive future? I may be mistaken, but at that moment, it seemed to me as though America were beginning to matter in the region again. That’s not to say that it didn’t before, but perhaps it was beginning to do so in a new way.

President Trump’s speech was the meeting’s most highly anticipated event. Many observers were wary to hear what Trump had to say. He was now addressing directly a nation of Wahhabists and Islamists in Saudi Arabia, likely the same people he’d angered with his anti-Muslim remarks and ostensible “Muslim Ban”. Speaking in Riyadh, an eastern city equidistant from the Islamic tradition’s two holiest cities (Medina and Mecca; the third, of course, is Jerusalem, where Trump will arrive the following day) the President must have expected criticism. For it’s worth, however, Trump’s speech was quite effective.

In it, he explored two themes. The first was what we can assume to be the administration’s stance toward Middle Eastern policy. Until now, Trump’s official position on this matter wasn’t clear. The ardor with which he inveighed against President Obama’s policy might’ve led you to think his own would be much different. It seems as if it will be. In stark contrast with the Obama administration’s approach to the Middle East, Trump averred that decisions in the region will “be based on real world outcomes, not inflexible ideologies”. In choosing between the two, Trump fancies himself the champion of the former. He’s assuming the role as the realist, while imputing Obama to be the ideologue.

To the extent that Obama was an ideologue, Trump is not. I don’t mean that pejoratively, as though one position is enlightened and the other is not. And on that point, it’s not to say that Trump is an insipid head of state. History might actually favor he who bristles against ideology. Decades of unpliable policies, the type that sprout from intransigent ideologies, often fall short.

Never is this more important to remember than when thinking about the Middle East. More than anywhere else, it is here that realpolitik has its greatest role to play. And never is this more relevant than when discussing Saudi Arabia. America’s relationship with the Saudis has been oddly harmonious. It was the Saudi government that harbored the terrorist planning committee that went on to carry out the 9/11 attacks. Theirs is a puritanical, fanatical Wahhabist regime where females can’t drive, speak, or walk without censorship. Uniformity dictates that all citizens must be Muslim; anyone who wants to become a one must first convert. Sectarianism completely suffocates secularism in their theocratic monolith. This is a place where Western ideology, no matter how thoughtfully urged, goes to die. It’s a place that is among the best of its kind for being receptive to American interests, while at the same time being one of the most reactionary and regressive. It’s a place where ideology won’t work.

On this vein, Trump explained that America will seek “partners…not perfection” in the Saudi Arabia state. It’s not President Trump’s goal to nation build or edify, or to improve upon Saudi Arabia’s medieval morality. He added to this an unconditional assurance that “our friends (i.e., the Saudis) will never question our support”. Knowing how fast friends become enemies in Trump’s world, and how it’s ill-advised to deal in absolutes, this statement seems fraught from the start. But embedded in it is the quiet caveat that says this: so long as we’re friends, regardless of what you do, you’ll have our support. Does this mean a bad actor will be supported by the U.S. with impunity, so long as they are the president’s personal friend? If so, the Saudis can take Trump literally when he sings, “you ain’t never had a friend like me!”

The day’s second theme was terrorism. ISIS, although weakened, continues to be an intractable maelstrom in the Middle East. The group has contracted in power, exhausted its funds, and flirted with irrelevance, only to revive itself and come once again to the fore. Far from being eradicated, ISIS continues to terrorize most conspicuously in Syria and Kurdistan with added attacks at landmarks where infidels aggregate in the West. Trump rightly put the onus on those attending member states to stop ISIS once and for all. It is their countries, after all, that are affected most. By imploring them to take the lead in securing their own states, Trump showed a kind of “soft” paternalism, whereby America urges and encourages from afar, but doesn’t intervene. To emphasize this point, Trump implored the pan-Arabian leaders to “Ensure terrorists find no sanctuary on your soil”.

Trump continued to beseech the leaders, urging them to “drive them (the terrorists) out of your communities and places of worship”. Finding a three-word rhythm, his “Drive them out” anaphora became a memorable finish. He repeated it until hitting his peak, when he implored the Islamic emissaries to drive the radical terrorists “out from this earth”. This was a severe but striking coda to end with. Time will tell if any of the leaders take Trump’s mantra to heart.

 

Battered and bruised at home with wanton wounds self-inflicted, President Trump has begun his nine-day Euro-Asian sojourn. This ambitious expedition, arriving not a moment too soon, begins in the wake of an American political scenario gravid with tumult and increasingly swollen with scandal. An expedition abroad is a fool-proof way to improve perceptions at home. A politician always appears more favorably to his constituents when viewed from afar. But so far as this presidency has proven, fool-proof is a bar often set too high.

Alighting from Air Force One in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, President Trump will commence the week’s agenda with a message to regional Muslim leaders. Penned by Stephen Miller and hopefully rehearsed en route to the desert destination, Trump’s speech to kick off his foreign appearance will be ironic. If one recalls December 2015, the long forgotten days when there were seventeen Republican candidates from which to choose, Trump announced his astonishing “Muslim ban” to equally fervid castigation and jubilation on the left and right.

It was around this time, and around this chauvinistic call to isolation, that Trump began to be seen by many as a candidate in earnest. For a man often criticized for speaking from two sides of the same pouty pair of lips (examples need not fill the lines here, as they are easily found on other forums), it would be nothing short of par for the contradiction course if he now, being on Arabic soil, races to embrace Islamic inclusivity. When he was still just a candidate, his message of Muslim exclusion was a differentiating linchpin, an “id” statement many thought but dared not say. Now it seems an antithetical message will mark his incipient foreign diplomacy record.

It’s too soon to tell if Muslim leaders will likewise receive the man and message seriously, as was done in America. History should give them pause, however, and it would behoove them to consider that what looks like an olive branch might turn out to be a ten-foot pole with the writing, “Keep out!” on the end. This is especially true when the words are not Trump’s own, as they certainly aren’t in this case. They might want to await the now habituated early morning tweet that contradicts courteous words said the day before.

After assuaging the Saudis and trepidatious Muslim leaders, Trump will venture with his retinue to Israel. He’ll be working slightly achronologically through the Abrahamic religions (Islam being the most recent invention) when he arrives in the Jewish homeland. This visit could be of potential intrigue, as it has not yet been a week since Trump spoiled the secrecy of some Israeli intel (and consequently may have compromised their source) to the Russians. The veneer will be amicable and pleasantries will be customarily passed between President Rivlin, Prime Minister Netanyahu, and President Trump, but one is left to wonder if a mild slap on the wrist isn’t warranted. It’s been said that Israeli Intelligence officials are displeased if not empurpled with Trump’s Oval Office faux pas. Seeing and hearing directly from the country whose asset was endangered might provide Trump a learning experience about tact and repercussions.

The Trumps, including Ivanka, who is Jewish by conversion and Kushner who is so by nativity, will have the opportunity to visit the Western Wall (a surprisingly unprecedented appearance by a sitting American president) and Yad Vashem Holocaust museum before parading to Palestine where they will meet a former Holocaust denier, President Mahmoud Abbas. One or two days with President Abbas should provide Kushner ample time to codify a plan to initiation the cessation of hostilities between the two disparate religious groups. Attention must be devoted to Trump’s denunciations or commendations of the Palestinian cause. President Obama, in the expiry of his second term, attempted a transfer of over $200 million to Gaza for relief funding. This monetary consummation was halted, but nevertheless, Trump appears much cooler or ambivalent toward the Palestinian cause. He may simply state his desire for both parties to simply to “get along” and advance no moral imperative on land claims or two state solutions.

Next on the agenda is a visit to the world’s smallest and most historic of countries, Vatican City. It is here Trump will make the formal acquaintance of his Beatitude, Pope Francis. Another potentially contentious audience portends, as the two men’s worldviews are hardly compatible. Delineating their vices and virtues would serve to exceedingly demean Trump, but when put up against the Vicar of Christ, everyone can expect to fall a bit short. At the very least, one couldn’t pretend Trump is a devoted Christian by any normal sanctimonious standard—nor do I think Trump would disagree. The whole “blessed are you who are poor” apothegm probably doesn’t resound with a man whose gaudy hotels sport gold smattered elevators, succulent steaks and chocolate cakes.

The Bishop of Rome will embrace him with gregariousness, and Trump might deluge an untapped reservoir of humility with which to ingratiate himself to Pope Francis. I expect this to last only until they begin comparing pericopes in the two holiest of books. Those are, of course, The Bible and The Art of the Deal. There is a commonality that shouldn’t be overlooked between the two; both were written under the influence of a ghost. The former by the holy spirit, the latter by Tony Schwartz. This is a small distinction, but specters ought to get their due. Scripture aside, theirs will be a curious meeting because the Argentine’s progressive papacy has not been shy in its responses to candidate and President Trump’s rhetoric. Pope Francis has made intermittent headlines with his indirect responses to Trump’s vituperations about the border wall and Muslim ban. If ever conciliation was to be bred, though, it would be beneath The Creation of Adam rather than within the Twittersphere.

At this point in the journey, I expect President Trump to be an absolute doyen of the Judeo-Christian-Islamic tradition. If this expectation is a bit lofty, perhaps more realistically he can be the man to rattle the historic religio-cultural strife and mutual acrimony with realpolitik and his vaunted deal-making ability. The tired, ancient internecine mindsets have been unsuccessful in prompting harmonious religious relations and tolerance. Maybe Trump is the man to succeed where so many have failed.

When this ablutionary first leg of the journey has culminated, President Trump will make a volte-face toward matters more comfortably found in his wheelhouse. In Brussels, he’ll meet with fresh-faced French President Macron and European Commission President Jean-Claude Juncker. The point of intrigue will manifest during inevitable NATO discussions. Trump will most assuredly hold fast to the grievances regarding NATO that became a pillar of his presidential platform. His obduracy on this point was made patently clear when Chancellor Merkel visited Washington months ago. Whether or not his insistence on NATO debt payments remains, he can be expected to denounce the current system in Belgium.

The trip concludes with the G7 Summit in Sicily. With so many dignitaries and foreign heads of state concentrated in one place, one hopes President Trump can remain dignified and terse. Past spats with diplomats ought to be squelched, and nescient statements itching on his tongue should be quelled. Arriving in Europe as green newcomer and departing with the respect of a varsity player will do wonders to a debilitated public image. It may even turn opinions at home, where upon returning, he will still have much to answer for. Godspeed, Mr. President. Godspeed.