Trump – Paola Trimarco

Hello 2026

The weirdness of 2025 has left me with no choice but to take a different approach from the usual end-of-year review and farewell. To begin with, I’m not even sure what year it really was.

When it came to US foreign policy, 2025 felt like a replay of 2003. That year saw the US and UK invade Iraq under the fabricated premise of ‘weapons of mass destruction.’ This phrase has now resurfaced in American media (mainly Fox News) and far-right podcasts to justify US military strikes against Venezuela. The false justifications followed public outcry over the unlawful and deadly targeting of Venezuelan fishing boats, on suspicion – without evidence – of drug trafficking into the US. For a clever montage highlighting how the government in 2003 used the exact same rhetoric for false pretexts for war as today’s US government and media mouthpieces, I recommend this recent episode of The Daily Show.

Or have we simply repeated 1992? That was the year US president George H. W. Bush, at the Rio Earth Summit, announced that ‘growth is the engine of change,’ making it clear that the US would not sign any biodiversity treaty. Bush reportedly said at Rio: ‘the American way of life is not up for negotiation.’ Sound familiar? Quotes from the current White House occupant during 2025 include: ‘Climate change is a con job – the greatest con job’ and ‘Our country is on the verge of a comeback, the likes of which the world has never witnessed.’

Stepping further back in time, 2025 could easily be mistaken for 1942, when President Roosevelt bypassed Congress and used his executive powers to incarcerate 120,000 people of Japanese heritage – two-thirds of them US citizens. In 2025, ICE deported an estimated 340,000 immigrants, with some 65,000 still being held in detention centres.

I don’t wish to fall onto the adage about history repeating itself. The assumption there has been of centuries passing and people not learning from the mistakes of history. These 2025 throwbacks are within the twentieth century, some in my living memory. The awful craziness of the past year is the result of wilful ignorance.

Of course, these examples come from the US, which brings me to the other side of this peculiar year: the ways in which the US government is leaving its mark on the rest of the world. I hesitate to revisit the endless list of presidential lies, acts of corruption, hate-fuelled attacks on individuals and countries and the somersaulting of international markets, food security and military alliances. Worse still, even though I live outside the US – in England and France – 2025 was saturated with reports of these events starring you know who. Hardly a day went by without his raspy voice and orange face – and the mute button only works with television. His childish intonation would even be in my head when I read him quoted in the newspapers. In France, the Ouest-France/Tagaday barometer declared the US president the most ‘médiatisée’ person of 2025.

This is why 2025 was such a difficult year to live through – a year so strange and unpleasant that I cannot find the right words for goodbye – ‘Good riddance’ seems too simple and direct. I know I’m not alone in this sentiment. In this week’s New Yorker, Susan Glasser notes ‘In the future, historians will struggle to describe that feeling, particular to this Trump era, of being prepared for the bad, crazy, and disruptive things that he would do, and yet also totally, utterly shocked by them.’

Instead, I offer: ‘Hello and welcome, 2026. I do hope you’re a better year than your cousin 2025, who’s spinning and raging out the door like the Tasmanian Devil cartoon.’

Living in this mindful moment, I sit back and embrace the transition into the new year without judgement or expectation, appreciating the emptiness of this quiet pause in time.

It’s Misogyny and Greed, Stupid

I was going to write about newsworthy adjectives that have cropped up these last two weeks with phrases like crazy-strange campaign speeches and unnatural disasters. But given the elections results from America, I can only think of two words and they’re nouns – misogyny and greed. Others are free to add the word racism – I respect that argument but feel less strongly about it at the moment.

We all witnessed Tr*mp’s violent-strewn attacks against his women adversaries. We know that this former president proudly stacked the courts with anti-choice conservative judges and was found guilty of sexual assault. Most frightfully, only last week he exclaimed that he was ‘going to protect women whether they wanted it or not,’ a paraphrase of the arguments in favour of women wearing burkas. And then there was the ‘bro’ vote – young men who engage in toxic masculinity and spend too much time in the cesspool of social media’s misinformation and conspiracy theories – supporting their orange idol.

As for greed, I’ve heard too many people wearing MAGA hats explain that they were voting for a ‘businessman.’ One told an interviewer ‘I wanna be rich like him.’ Others say that the economy was better during Tr*mp’s term in office. Yes, inflation was lower back then, but inflation, especially food and petrol prices, has been felt all over the world thanks to the Russian-Ukraine war. It wasn’t the result of Biden’s economic policies. Furthermore, unemployment in the US is lower now than it was during Tr*mp Mark I, and more jobs were created during Biden’s four years than in Tr*mp’s. So, it’s not ‘the economy, stupid’ (sorry if this is becoming clichéd). It’s greed. This doesn’t apply universally to the working poor in America who have genuine reasons to be aggrieved, but they are mistaken if they think tax breaks on the wealthy will lift them out of poverty.

I’m working on this blog when there’s a knock at my front door. A man and woman in their fifties smile at me.

Woman: Hello. Are you concerned about leadership and the leaders in our world?

Me: Sorry, not today. I don’t mean to be rude, but really, I’m in no mood. It’s a sad day.

Woman: Actually, we’re here to talk to you about Jesus…

I cut her off. Me: Well, many Jesus-lovers just voted a tyrant back into the White House.

The man bats his eyes in confusion.

Woman: Oh, I understand completely. I have friends in America…

Me: Goodbye.

I close the door on the opportunistic Jehovah’s Witnesses and return to my blog.

These are the highlights of my election post-mortem. The full clinical report includes the double standards applied by the media, the Democrats not having primaries post-Biden, gerrymandering electoral districts and indeed, racism.

Following the post-mortem, there’s a burial. I feel as though I’m in mourning. Perhaps that’s the best way to deal with this. From a Buddhist perspective, mourning has limited value. It’s okay as an initial reaction, but then awareness of the present, being mindful needs to take over. That’s where I’m aiming to be soon.

My Week in Anger

‘She’s gone,’ David said to me this morning as I was unpacking the groceries. I knew who he meant. Several days ago the British Home Secretary Suella Braverman had made more of her notorious offensive, divisive and ill-informed comments. This time, her targets were the pro-Palestinian, also known as pro-ceasefire, protesters who were planning a march in London on the same day as the Remembrance Day ceremonial at the Cenotaph (for USians – this is Veterans Day and every year, there’s a marching band and a minute of silence at 11.00 around the memorial). Braverman referred to the protest as a ‘hate march,’ strangely comparing it to ‘terrorists’ marches’ once seen in Northern Ireland. The Metropolitan Police had already authorised the march to take place, to which Braverman added that the police were playing favourites. Clearly, she’s borrowing from the Tr*mp handbook. First of all, logistics – the Armistice minute of silence was to be held far from the peace march, which was heading towards the US Embassy clear on the other side of London. Braverman was using populist-style misinformation to create an enemy. Secondly, as Home Secretary, Braverman should not be criticising an institution (the MET) which is part of the government. That too is what populists do – make the state an enemy of the people.

Some five days have passed since her comments were published in an article she authored for The Times. While Braverman’s words received a lot of condemnation, they also sparked far-right counter protesters to show up at the march. The few arrests made were mostly of the far-right counter protesters who were spewing out hate and acting violently. Finally, this morning the Prime Minister has sacked his Home Secretary. ‘Yessss,’ I said to David with a fist pump. Braverman’s gone. A reason to rejoice? Not really. I recall Boris Johnson having to resign as a disastrous Foreign Secretary only to come back as an even worse Prime Minister.

Is anger a wasted emotion? I grew up thinking that it was pointless, and as a female I was criticised any time I displayed so much as an ounce of it. These days I think that some anger is useful. It ignites people into action against the many wrongs in our societies, such as protesting against the military-led humanitarian crisis in Gaza.

Another source of anger in recent days has come from the latest polling in America. We’ve all known for a while that Tr*mp is the likely Republican nominee, but now it looks like he stands a fair chance of being president again. I don’t have to spell out what this could mean. I’m angry at Americans who have fallen for this cult figure and at the media for giving him excessive airtime and column inches. I’m angry too at Americans who despise the orange man, know that he is unfit for public office, but vote for him because they’ve always voted Republican.

Underneath anger one often finds fear. Some of the anger I feel towards the likes of Braverman, Tr*mp and their ilk is because I see them as dangerous. The right wing of the Conservative party seems hell bent on destroying some of our democratic institutions – our membership in the EU, the courts, the police and the civil service. Tr*mp and co have attacked the FBI,CIA, Justice Department and other offices of government that, though flawed, keep democracies functioning.

I’ve just learned that Suella Braverman’s replacement is James Cleverly, who was Foreign Secretary. The new Foreign Secretary is the former PM David Cameron, the same PM who engineered the European Referendum that gave us Brexit and who departed in disgrace. Since Cameron is no longer an elected member of the House of Commons, he has obtained this position through being a member of the House of Lords. That is, King Charles has just made him a Baron. Last week’s tragedy has become this week’s farce.

Impeachment and theatre of the absurd

Referring to the US president’s second impeachment, a Republican congressman snapped at a reporter, ‘This is political theatre.’ He was walking away while speaking, ending the interview before it began. What he said was pithy and about all a defensive Republican in America can say these days.

But he might have a point. This impeachment can be seen as a type of theatre, an entertaining performance, since the Senate vote won’t take place until after the disgraced president leaves office in a week’s time – even if he has to be forced out kicking and screaming like a toddler. In this way, the actions of the Democrats in the House of Representatives might be seen as symbolic. That is fitting, after all, as the actions of the rioters who stormed the Capitol last week were largely symbolic. Did they really think they were going to stop the process of bringing in a new president? A playoff of symbols is a common feature of good theatre. The congressman’s remark could have been a back-handed compliment.

The irony is that the Republican congressman is playing a part in the same theatrical performance that he himself scoffed at. His is the character that operates in a narrative resting comfortably in theatre of the absurd – an abstract world that rubs up against the real world and makes us question the purpose of human existence – the meaning of life. This congressman’s character is a minor one, akin to Boy in Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot. Boy is a messenger, a character questioned by the two tramps, revealing more about their characters and their delusions. The ending of this impeachment play might not leave us with grand philosophical questions, but it is making many of us question the strength of our democracies.

Putting aside symbolism, another way still of looking at this act of impeachment is through the lens of criminal justice. Clear to anyone who has been following post-election news from America, the president has been inciting protests by claiming, despite the lack of any evidence, that the election was fraudulent. Moreover, the act of inciting violence can be found in the president’s tweets and in his comments outside the White House, from where he encouraged a ‘fight’ and spoke about bravery, while repeating the slogans of the election being ‘rigged’ and ‘stolen.’ If Tr**p were an ordinary citizen, he’d already be arrested and awaiting his trial on charges of terrorism and citing violence against the government. This impeachment is a theatrical performance that mirrors the judicial process that is not taking place, a cathartic type of theatre on par with the great works of classical Greek drama.

A final note – I deliberately haven’t referred to this congressman by name since other Republican politicians have been saying the exact same thing, reading the same lines from the same script.

Election Day 2020

With fears of election-day violence, America has joined corrupt and disreputable countries around the world. Thank you, Mr President – this is on your watch.

It’s not an exaggeration to say that this presidential election might be the most important one of our lifetimes. How so? I’ve narrowed this down to two reasons, both of which have been touted by political pundits, newspaper columnists and the like. This is my take in the context of the films and books that influence my thinking.

Reason 1 – democracy is at stake. Over the past four years, the world has watched a wannabe autocrat in the Whitehouse fight against the institutions of American governance and the freedom of the press. Among the many examples of this, what first comes to mind are Tr**p’s public criticisms of the FBI, the CIA and most recently and most alarmingly the Centers for Disease Control. Michael Lewis’s The Fifth Risk has been one of several books to expose of the Tr**p transition team and the way this president set up his antigovernmental administration, a heady mix of inexperienced individuals and those with a grudge against certain branches of government.

And the media has had it worse. On top of frequent references to the media as ‘fake’ and ‘public enemies,’ let’s not forget the many instances of reporters being targeted and arrested while trying to report on demonstrations. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Netflix has recently produced The Chicago Seven, about the kangaroo trial of seven anti-war protesters during the Democratic National Convention in 1968. From aggressive policing to an openly racist and bias judicial system, echoes of Tr**p’s treatment of the media resound.

Reason 2 – the planet is at stake. Not only has the 45^th president of the US started the process of pulling America out of the Paris Climate Accord, he’s a supporter of the fossil fuel industry, a climate change denier and has reversed over one hundred acts of legislation by the EPA during Obama’s presidency. A couple of good books I’ve read recently that cover this president’s treatment of the environment include Naomi Klein’s The Shock Doctrine and David Wallace-Well’s The Uninhabitable Earth.

There is perhaps a third reason why this is such an important election. But I’ve changed my mind a few times about the real importance of this. Okay, here goes. America’s reputation is at stake. As I would like to see a more balanced world, with a more equitable distribution of wealth, the US doesn’t need to keep its position as an economic superpower. I would be even happier still if it were not a military superpower. Despite these misgivings, I’d like to see America retain some of its influence in the world as a source for good. (Hard to imagine at times, I know. Sorry if I sound like Jimmy Stewart in Mr Smith Goes to Washington.) Voting Tr**p back into office is at the very least condoning criminality at the highest level of government. With all of the noise and distractions to come from this Whitehouse, it’s easy to forget that Tr**p was impeached by The House of Representatives for trying to bribe a foreign government. Even Tr**p’s lawyers admitted that this is what he did, but argued to the Senate that this was not an impeachable offence. There is also the matter of Tr**p’s tax records, the cases of fraud against his businesses and the allegations of sexual harassment and abuse. A Tr**p win tonight (or tomorrow, depending on your time zone) tells the rest of the world that America wants to be represented by a man clearly unfit for the job, in addition to of course his being a vulgarian, a defender of white supremacists, an habitual liar… I’ll stop myself there – you’ve heard it all before.

I’ve realised that I’ve only made reference to non-fiction books and a film based on true events. Let’s not forget the importance of fiction and poetry at times like this. I’ll close with a quote within a quote from Emily Nemens, the editor of the Paris Review, commenting yesterday on election eve: ‘As Manuel Puig put it, “I like to re-create reality in order to understand it better.” May we all understand the world a bit better once this week is through.’

Surviving Political Conventions

While it would be a stretch to say I found the US Democratic convention inspiring, what is more important is that I – and millions of others – found the Republican convention laughable and ludicrous in its touting of flagrant falsehoods and scientifically improbable promises.

It’s easy to assume that this divide in style between these two political conventions has been brought on by the character of Tr**p, but there has long been some of this distinction between the two parties. Robert Reich, recently wrote in The Guardian: ‘The Democratic party is basically a governing party, organized around developing and implementing public policies. The Republican party has become an attack party, organized around developing and implementing political vitriol. Democrats legislate. Republicans fulminate.’

While I agree with this, the Democrats’ convention replaced a lot of their typical policy speak with some battle talk. This time the Democrats appeared to have followed the advice of Churchill who once said, ‘Never let a good crisis go to waste.’ While I hesitate to call the coronavirus pandemic a ‘good’ crisis, it’s a crisis, which has laid bare the failures of populist-led governments across the world. Many of the speakers at the Democrats’ convention highlighted Tr**p’s disastrous handling of the Covid-19 pandemic. Other crises where brought into the mix, reminding people that this president pulled America out of the Paris Climate agreement and continues to create division through racist immigration policies and support of institutional racism in America’s police forces. True, these points against the Tr**p Party (formerly the Republican Party) have been said countless times before but often embedded in the jokey monologues of Steven Colbert, Seth Meyers and the like or in the sarcasm of news columnists both sides of the Atlantic. It was refreshing to hear these criticisms in measured tones without the laughs (these are serious issues after all) from Democratic politicians and dignitaries, one after the other, showing signs of unity. I was also pleased – and like many breathed a sigh of relief – when it was all over and Joe Biden had not committed any lapsus linguae.

Speaking of language, the Tr**p Party convention produced more than its share of linguistic wonders. Here are just a couple of my favourites. Senator Tim Scott warned that Biden and Harris will turn America into a ‘socialist utopia.’ Clearly the senator doesn’t understand that utopias are good things. Coming from the Greek ou, meaning not, and topos, meaning place, utopia literally means ‘no place’ and by extension, thanks to Sir Thomas More who might be spinning in his sepulchre, means ‘an ideal place.’

In the final speech of the convention, the tweeter in chief accepted his party’s nomination by saying, ‘I profoundly accept this nomination.’ His speech writers must have known that Tr**p, the self-described ‘stable genius,’ could not humbly accept anything. Other high collocates for the word accept, include graciously and gladly, neither of which suits the fiery tongue of this presidential vulgarian. Having thrown out these other words, I imagine the speech writers going for a presidentially serious tone and following a thesaurus thread from serious to deep, ending up at profound. At least they had the grammatical wherewithal to add an –ly to make profound an adverb even if the resulting phrase – like this president – makes little sense.

Unfriending in the time of Tr**p

For the first time in my Facebook life, I’ve unfriended someone because of their politics. I didn’t do this easily. I tolerated this old school friend’s comments about Democrat Congresswomen Maxine Waters and Nancy Pelosi as being ‘unhinged’ after they rightly (in my opinion) attacked Tr**p on several counts. Of course, the current US president is far from ‘unhinged’ – a ‘stable genius,’ to use his own words. In this case, my tolerance was enabled by my enjoyment of irony.

I also overlooked this now former friend’s lambasting ‘crazy liberals’ for wanting to knock down a statue of Abraham Lincoln. I agreed – that does sound crazy, and it would have been if it were true. In that case, I forgave my old classmate for being misinformed and posting this falsehood on Facebook in error. Mistakes happen.

What finally tipped me over the polite Facebook friendship line was my friend’s commentary on Tr**p’s 4^th of July ceremony at Mt Rushmore. During his speech, Tr**p announced, ‘I am here as your President to proclaim, before the country and before the world, this monument will never be desecrated,’ even though there is no movement intent on desecrating the mountain sculpture. America’s most infamous president slid his way down more slippery slope arguments with, ‘Our nation is witnessing a merciless campaign to wipe out our history, defame our heroes, erase our values, and indoctrinate our children.’ But that wasn’t enough. This orange president added, ‘In our schools, our newsrooms, even our corporate boardrooms, there is a new far left fascism that demands absolute allegiance.’ (These are just some highlights – the full speech can be found at the US government website)

On Facebook, my high school friend posted a photo Tr**p at Rushmore with the caption that it was a ‘great speech,’ the president’s ‘best speech ever’ and advised his friends to ignore what they’ve been hearing in the ‘lying left media.’ Saying that this was a great speech, if I’m generous, is a matter of opinion. Advising people that reports on this speech are lies because most of them questioned the veracity and reasoning behind the president’s bizarre comments is simply wrong. In democracies, reporters scrutinise the comments and proclamations of their leaders. I welcome the media outlets that are constantly fact-checking the current US president.

Back to Facebook. After a Tr**p supporter agreed with my friend about the Mt Rushmore speech, the friend replied, ‘Yeah, Trump loves America. Obama hated America.’ Even though it is hard to imagine that Tr**p loves anyone or anything aside from himself, I don’t doubt that in his own way this US president – or any president, including Obama – loves his country.

It was clear that this ‘friend’ was actively engaging in propaganda. I kick myself as I should have seen this with his posting about the Lincoln statue. That was no mistake. I was being taken for a fool. I went to my list of friends, found this old school friend and I clicked on ‘unfriend.’

I can only hope that others reacted the way that I did or at the very least have seen these postings for what they are. I’m reminded of a famous Mark Twain comment: ‘It’s easier to fool people than convince them that they have been fooled.’

Of course, the person I should really unfriend is Mark Zuckerberg. While I don’t literally follow him on Facebook, using his platform does make me a friend of sorts. As plenty of pundits have pointed out, Facebook’s practices could help Tr**p to get re-elected. After all, Facebook sold its algorithms to political campaigns helping to get Trump elected the first time and played a part in the outcome of the UK referendum on the EU. In a recent article on Facebook, investigative journalist supremo Carole Cadwalladr explains how Facebook is dangerous for democracy. After suggesting that if Facebook were a country, it would be like North Korea, Cadwalladr clarifies, ‘Zuckerberg is not Kim Jong-un. He’s much, much more powerful.’

Another Guardian writer, Rashad Robinson notes that not only did Facebook contribute to Tr**p’s election victory in 2016, ‘in 2020, Facebook’s indulgent and laissez-faire policies have already enabled hateful harassment, rampant misinformation and disinformation, and the suppression of Black organizers.’ After investigating Facebook’s content policies, Robinson concludes that ‘the rules are often so vague as to even allow for someone as clumsy as Trump to weave right through them.’

Having said of all this, I don’t see myself leaving Facebook. Not yet. This powerful form of communication is the only way I can participate in certain writers’ groups and in groups dedicated to political and social activism and (ironically) understanding. During this Covid-19 lockdown, Facebook has provided a forum for people in my town of Ely to share vital information and to help out their neighbours. It also enables me to keep in touch with friends, relatives, former colleagues and students across the world – people who don’t use email or write letters. Quitting Facebook would be akin to saying that I’m no longer going to allow any post to come through my letterbox. Even though the internet has reduced the amount of post I get, it still comes in and I still need to deal with at least some of it. Like the post I receive, a lot of what is on Facebook can be ignored.

By unfriending my Tr**p supporting old school friend, I’ve taken it a step further. I’m not only ignoring what is being sent, I’m telling the postal courier to not bother delivering anything from this person to my door. This act of defiance might seem small against the colossus that is Mark Zuckerberg’s empire, but it is satisfying. Moreover, it reduces my traffic on Facebook. I know that I’m not the only one doing this when confronted by these right-wing propagandists. And that too, I find gratifying.

Yellow Vests and Black Days

As I write this, hundreds of protesters are being arrested in Paris. In my years of living in France part-time, I’ve witnessed dozens of protests – participated in a couple myself – and have been inconvenienced by countless strikes. But I’ve never seen anything as violent and inexplicable as the current wave led by the gilets jaunes, so named for the yellow safety vests, required by drivers, that they wear as they pace down the streets, stopping traffic and causing chaos.

What started as a demonstration against a rise in vehicle-fuel taxes has snow-balled into a general protest against President Macron. While some protesters on the news complain about a litany of changes to taxes and pensions that help the rich more than the poor, others speak in vague mantras about Macron’s arrogance and that he should resign.

While my natural inclination is to support the underdog, I have mixed feelings. I can understand people protesting against a rise on taxes, but the fuel tax is to help fight climate change – there are other taxes and issues to fight. Incidentally, the climate change protesters were also out in force this week in France. I’m also uneasy with the claims that these protesters are supporting those who are ‘starving’ and ‘becoming poorer.’ I don’t doubt that a growing number are struggling to make ends meet or are experiencing real poverty. Yet, these demonstrations have coincided with the Black Days of shopping, where what started in America as Black Friday has morphed into Black Days, a long weekend of discounted shopping for clothes and electronics. The shops and boutiques of France have been packed. The irony – or perhaps it’s juxtaposition – makes me question people’s sincerity.

Perhaps I’m not as sympathetic as I ought to be because I’ve been appalled by the breaking of windows, looting of shops and setting cars ablaze. Such actions merely hurt people and the cause. What’s happened to peaceful protest (which could include non-violent civil disobedience) and voting in another government when the time comes?

Black days also come in the form of something larger, more sinister. In France, the extreme right and extreme left have hitched on to these protests, twisting them into justifications for their own forms of government. And the political opportunism doesn’t stop there. The sad excuse of a US president first claimed these protests supported climate-change deniers – like himself. Later he claimed that the protesters were screaming out ‘We want Trump.’ Of course, that’s already been disproved by several reputable sources. I mention it only because it allows me to end on a laugh.

Postscript – if I weren’t laughing, I’d be crying.

Walls

Last week, I visited Berlin with the intention of, among other things, dipping into the world of Cabaret and the writings of Christopher Isherwood. This might sound odd given that Isherwood’s Berlin was during the 1930s. But I haven’t been in this city since the early 80s, when I could only go to West Berlin, and I rationalised that the present day with a reunited Berlin might appear more like the days of Weimar Germany than my last visit.

We stayed in a hotel in the former East Berlin, with its 60s and 70s austere blocks of buildings and its wide roads, intended for tanks to topple any revolution. Aside from the timeless train stations and pillar boxes covered with posters, little else felt like Goodbye to Berlin, Christopher and his Friends or those iconic scenes from Cabaret. My imagination could have filled in the gaps if I hadn’t run up against a wall – the Berlin Wall, of course.

The remnants of the wall serve as reminders of the latter half of the 20th century and fears that the cold war would escalate into a combative war, or worse still, a nuclear war. My mind shifted far from the world of seedy night clubs and Sally Bowles. I was once again tainted by living in the age of Trump. With the reign of the 45^th president, literal and metaphorical walls have become pervasive. While I write this, armed guards along the US-Mexican border have started using teargas against economic migrants and asylum-seeking refugees. These acts seem that much more ludicrous in the knowledge that illegal crossings at this border are at their lowest since they peaked in the early 2000s (Source: USGov Border Statistics).

I’m reminded of a poem I first read as a child. Robert Frost’s ‘Mending Wall,’ pointed to the absurdity of such walls with obvious political metaphors:

There where it is we do not need the wall:

He is all pine and I am apple orchard.

My apple trees will never get across

And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.

He only says, “Good fences make good neighbours.

The physical wall that Trump is trying to build has been drummed up with the president’s usual bluster and hate-filled rhetoric. More concerning to me are those other walls being built behind the scenes and not necessarily from Trump himself, but from the far-right that supports him and have been empowered by him. Again, I return to Frost:

…I see him there

Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top

In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.

He moves in darkness as it seems to me,

Not of woods only and the shade of trees.

For Germany, and more importantly for western Europe, the tale has a happy ending. Not only did the wall come down – as ideological walls inevitably do – but it also helped to nurture the peace movement that continues in many forms across Europe today. One stretch of the old wall captures this spirit with paintings and graffiti.

As I return to life in France and England, I wonder what Christopher Isherwood, who became an American citizen and died three years before the wall came down, would have thought of all of this.

Toxic Tribalism

Dare I write about this subject at the risk of being trolled? Okay, I’m bursting to exorcise the feelings of revulsion I have been living with since Brett Kavanaugh was sworn into the Supreme Court.

Like millions of people, men as well as women, I believe Christine Blasey Ford’s testimony. More importantly, if I imagine that I did not believe her, I would still think that Judge Kavanaugh’s testimony was appalling. His display of petulance, self-pity and political partisanship is not befitting a member of America’s highest court.

With only one week allowed for the FBI to investigate and with a Republican majority in the Senate, Kavanaugh’s appointment came as no surprise. The appointment of Clarence Thomas in 1991 after the compelling testimony of workplace sexual harassment by Anita Hill yielded the same results. But here are the key differences that stirred my disgust these past weeks. Firstly, Anita Hill was alone in her allegations; two other women have come forward in the Kavanaugh case. The Hill vs Thomas standoff was over 30 years ago, before Harvey Weinstein and before #MeToo – this time, the nomination process could have ended differently. The greatest differences of all have been the reactions of the sitting presidents. In 1991, President George Bush (senior) accepted the Senate’s decision to place Clarence Thomas on the Supreme Court without accusing Anita Hill of giving ‘false testimony,’ as Trump did of Christine Blasey Ford. Nor did President Bush publicly mock Anita Hill or say anything to discredit her during the judge’s swearing in ceremony.

This country of polarised ideals has escalated into a cold civil war. And it didn’t start with Trump. The conservative/liberal polemic has been deepening since the Clinton administration, when Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich went after all things liberal, especially the Clintons – a modern couple, where the lawyer wife earned more than her politician husband. This anti-liberal fervour took on another level with the Tea Party Movement, started during the Obama years.

Unlike these other waves of intense opposition, this time the initial surge is not in reaction to the presidency, but is being instigated by it. Trump has fuelled old hatreds and fears, using rallies to drum home the message, touring the political polemic into tribalism.

Some members of the Republican tribe, mainly women, actually believed Ford’s testimony, but said that Ford was ‘mistaken’ about the identity of the perpetrator. They ignore (or think we won’t notice) the fact that Ford said she was ‘100%’ certain that it was Brett Kavanaugh. In other words, these Republicans know better, but pretend that they don’t in order to remain loyal to their tribe. I don’t meant to oversimplify this – of course, there’s also political motivation. Once the questions about Kavanaugh emerged, other conservative judges could have been nominated in Kavanaugh’s place, but given the realistic time constraints and the mid-term elections coming up, the Republicans couldn’t risk having an even harder time still if there were more Democrats in the Senate.

If, dear reader, you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you know that I too have strong political opinions. I’m a proud feminist and a liberal. I’d like to think that my feelings of being incensed over the Kavanaugh vs Ford spectacle have come from my intellect and not because I belong to a tribe that has been threatened. I fear that there could be a point in my future when my passionate views tip over into tribalism.