Mari Briggs’ letter on July 18 left me at first speechless, and then angry. She compares Donald Trump to strong men in the 1950s. Briggs must mean white men only, since minorities were marginalized and segregated, and women’s only career choice was to earn a Mrs. degree.
Briggs praises Trump’s outspokenness, but I don’t remember any of the men back then lying as often as our current president does. Space limitations prevent me from listing all of his lies, but two in particular come to mind: Rampant election fraud tallying into the millions of illegal voters, for which there is no evidence, and his so-called lack of involvement with Russia. That story is still emerging. “Telling it like it is” does not allow the President of the United States to pick Twitter fights with TV reporters, the mayor of London after a terrorist attack, and insist that every unfavorable news story is “fake news.” When Trump isn’t telling a bald-face lie, he is contradicting previous statements, leaving his staff to scramble “1984”-style to rewrite history.
Our nation was formerly viewed as a world leader. Now, thanks to Trump, we’re becoming a laughing stock. Briggs mentions the Paris Climate Agreement in simplistic terms, conveniently forgetting that the U.S. is now one of only three countries in the world, along with the likes of Syria and Nicaragua, to not sign the agreement. And she offers vague reference to previously unknown information Trump shared, about NATO, I assume, and regurgitates his simplistic talking points of other countries not paying their fair share. Seasoned politicians and other world leaders, such as Germany’s Angela Merkel, have tried to explain to Trump that there is more to the treaty and funding formula, but their words fall on deaf ears.
Trump is like the mythological Narcissus, always seeking his own reflection. When things go badly, he lies, covers his lies, tells more lies, and threatens our free press as if the First Amendment was merely a suggestion. I agree with Briggs that Trump is trying to return our nation to some Utopian 1950s, but if she would take off her rose-colored glasses, she might remember that those years were less than golden.
Pamela Jackson, Noblesville