Yesterday I posted a cartoon I had drawn of two men, one saying to the other: “I’m giving up Trump for Lent.”
Then in the evening (it was still Fat Tuesday) I watched his address to Congress. As he walked into the chamber, I thought he looked quite presidential. At least he wasn’t wearing a cap. Then he started to speak and all sense of him as a statesman, a leader, even a normal human being, immediately vanished.
Over 30 former political dissidents in Poland, including Lech Wałęsa, have written a letter to President Trump expressing their “horror and disgust” at his treatment of Volodymyr Zelensky last week at the White House. In it, they note President Ronald Reagan’s support of Solidarity and his role in bringing about the collapse of the Soviet Union.
I was in Warsaw in December, 1981, when martial law was declared – on orders, everyone believed, sent from Moscow – and most of the signers of that letter were rounded up and interned. That Christmas, Reagan asked Americans to put candles in their windows in solidarity with Poland, a gesture that touched Poles deeply. Schools had been closed, to prevent people from congregating, but we still had our annual Christmas party at the English Language College where I taught. “President Reagan says he supports the Polish people and the Polish nation,” one of the teachers said to me, “but not the present government. Isn’t that beautiful?”
I had not voted for Reagan, and yet I had never felt so proud to be an American.
In yesterday’s post about the Rally in Support of Ukraine I didn’t mention that the painting on the Berlin Wall of the photograph of the kiss between Brezhnev and Honecker included the caption: “My God, Help Me to Survive This Deadly Love.”
I also failed to mention the man who was wearing a cap that read: “Make Russia Small Again.” I thought it was very clever but then it occurred to me that Russia was never small.
Hundreds of people gathered yesterday afternoon at the foot of Clematis Street in West Palm Beach for the Rally in Support of Ukraine. Many people were draped in the blue-and-yellow flag of Ukraine; one man wore the tri-color Lithuanian flag.
“I’m from Kaunas,” he told me. “But I want to show that Lithuania supports Ukraine.” His Ukrainian wife stood nearby, with their four-month-old black Lab. They live in downtown Miami but want to go back to Lithuania. “We’re waiting to see what happens,” he said.
The booth of the Ukrainian Association of Florida handed out small Ukrainian flags to everyone. A few women, and even men, were the traditional white blouses embroidered with flowery red designs – a mode of dress that only increased their handsomeness. One young man with a serious expression sported a T-shirt that read: “Be brave like Ukraine.” One woman carried on her shoulder a bag that was made to look like a book: George Orwell’s 1984.
A Russian flag lay on the ground, surrounded by cones holding yellow CAUTION tape.
There were songs and speeches, including one by a rabbi and one by a representative of the mayor’s office. I wondered why Fort Lauderdale hadn’t hosted the rally, as it is more centrally located.
Someone held up a picture of Putin and Trump kissing on the lips. It was a pastiche of the famous photograph of Leonid Brezhnev greeting Erich Honecker (which was later immortalized by a painting on the Berlin Wall). That it was being displayed just a few miles from Mar-a-Lago made its mockery even greater.
Before leaving, I saw a young woman – one of the speakers – draped in a flag of black and red. I asked her what it was. She said it was the flag of the Ukrainian force that fought against the Soviet Union. Also, she said, when the small Ukrainian flag on soldiers’ uniforms gets drenched in blood the colors change to black and red.
She has been here seven years, she told me, but the two young women next to her, draped in Ukrainian flags, had arrived more recently. And now, because of Trump, they weren’t sure that they would be able to stay. I was hit with a feeling of sadness and helplessness. Then the woman, like many of the people I spoke to, warmly thanked me for my support of her country.
To end the rally, everyone stood, with the flashlights on their cellphones lit, under a banner that read: “PUTIN to STAND TRIAL for WAR CRIMES.”
This week Trump claimed that Ukraine started the war. It was an outrageous statement – like blaming Poland for World War II – and extremely worrisome for Ukraine, and all of Europe.
But it was not surprising. Trump is a man who adores the big and powerful – whether they be countries or people – and he despises the small and vulnerable. This has been clear from his domestic policies – his heartlessness toward immigrants – and now it’s manifest in his foreign policy.
People don’t come here for politics (for the most part people don’t come here, period), but in observing our president’s actions I have moved from shock to revulsion. Not all USAID programs were worthwhile, but providing medicines in poorer countries is not only a humanitarian act, it’s one that builds good feeling for the United States around the world.
This week, Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. – a man with no scientific training, and some dangerously outlandish views – was confirmed as Secretary of Health and Human Services. In a similar disregard for qualifications, Trump put himself in charge of the Kennedy Center. Then he spoke with Putin – a dictator and war criminal who is personally responsible for the deaths of thousands – about the war in Ukraine, suggesting in his comments that ‘there are good people on both sides.’
A nation’s health, its culture, the stability of the world are all at risk because of a man who is in way over his head.