9 November 2017

The New York Review of Books: Year One: Our President Ubu

Since Trump became president, every time I told myself this man is bonkers, I remembered Ubu, realizing how the story of his presidency and the cast of characters he has assembled in the White House would easily fit into Jarry’s play without a single word needing to be changed. Everyone, I imagine, is familiar with the spectacle of his entire cabinet taking turns telling him how much they admire him. “The greatest privilege of my life is to serve as vice president to the president who’s keeping his word to the American people,” Mike Pence said. After every member of his cabinet was through slobbering, and he himself had stopped nodding in agreement, he took the opportunity to heap additional praise on himself, declaring that he is one of the most productive presidents in American history—with perhaps Franklin D. Roosevelt coming close—and everyone present concurred. [...]

Electing as president an ignoramus who lies every time he opens his mouth, we are loath to admit, is the product of our broken and corrupt political system, our fragmented and polarized population, whose hatreds and delusions have been carefully fostered over the years by various vested interests and their representatives on Fox News, hate radio, the Internet, and social media. Alfred Jarry described his play as “an exaggerated mirror.” So is the Age of Trump: an ugly reflection of what we have become as a nation. [...]

One only had to watch the confirmation hearings for Trump’s cabinet to fully grasp the sort of men and women who are now in charge in all spheres of life in this country. Lacking any feeling of empathy for their fellow Americans and their problems, convinced in their minds of their superiority because of their immense wealth, eager to pillage this country even more, they are bound to do evil because that’s the kind of people they are. In the meantime, the crimes and injustices that are bound to multiply in the months and years ahead is what we have to look forward to. Ubu Roi may not be a great play, but we don’t deserve Shakespeare.

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