The astronomer Carl Sagan once described the earth as a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. “Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot,” he wrote.
Donald Trump took the stage on Saturday night imagining himself the master of the universe, not the temporary custodian of a country born around the same time as the hot-air balloon. The last decade was proof that “divine providence” had made Trump president for America’s 250th anniversary of independence, his aide Stephen Miller posted on social media.
Not even apocalyptic lightning bolts, which caused a four-hour delay, could stop Trump from putting his personal stamp on history. So, would we get a Gettysburg address for the 21st century? A deathless line like: “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself”? Or a noble call to service reminiscent of “ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country”?
Alas, we did not. In blowing out the candles on the nation’s birthday cake, Trump committed the one sin that even his base cannot forgive, especially after 12 hours of waiting in sun, wind and rain. He was actually quite boring. Which proves that, like New Year’s Eve, big birthdays often tend to be anticlimactic.
This sad spectacle on the National Mall featured Teleprompter Trump, the one who has been warned by his chief of staff, Susie Wiles, to stay on script and at least pretend to sound presidential. But every now and then, like a glitch in the matrix, he reverted to his petty grievances and obsessions.
“They estimated 375,000 people before everybody had to leave,” he began, referring to a chaotic evacuation caused by the weather. “They now have 150,000 people.” It was a wildly exaggerated claim from the man who said his inauguration was bigger than Barack Obama’s.
Trump and his wife, Melania, belatedly appeared on a temporary stage between the Washington Monument and Lincoln Memorial that conveniently blocked views of his lurid green reflecting pool, which he has attempted to renovate, with farcical results. The set was framed by blue lights and had a red-and-white arch, all against the backdrop of an animated, billowing presidential seal with the words “E Pluribus Unum” – out of many, one.
The president spoke with the hubris of one of those emperors that Sagan was so sceptical about. “For 250 years, the United States of America has been the hope, the promise, the light and the glory among all the nations of the world,” he said. “All over the world they try to be like us. Nobody can be like us, and with God’s help, we will always be the best, or even better. We are going to be better.”
Two and a half centuries after the break from the British crown was sealed by courageous revolutionaries in Philadelphia, Trump offered the obligatory acknowledgment of the founding fathers: “They declared that all men are created equal” with rights including “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness”.
Trump went on to extol American virtues but could not resist an aside: “Unlike so many others in the world, in this country we have freedom of speech, freedom of religion, equal justice under the law – although I was not treated that well, but we don’t need to get into that – and the right to keep and bear arms.”
Indeed, sometimes you can watch Trump’s brain work as if it is sitting in a jar with tiny flashes of light between synapses. Discussing a historic flag, he said: “It flew atop our flagship after America’s navy sank the Spanish fleet to the bottom of Manila Bay — one of the greatest naval victories in history.”
That triggered in his mind: “Much like our recent victory sinking the entire Iranian navy: 159 ships to the bottom of the sea, all done in just a moment’s time. We have the greatest military anywhere in the world.”
Then another jarring segue as Trump described America as a nation of winners. “We want to keep America great, and we will do so by approving the Save America Act, which means all voters must show voter ID. All voters must provide proof of citizenship. And there will be no mail-in ballots, except for illnesses, disability, military deployment, or travel. You won’t have cheating in the elections any more. It’s very simple.”
Happy birthday, everyone!
Then, with showmanship reminiscent of his State of the Union addresses, Trump introduced centenarian veterans of Pearl Harbor, D-Day and Iwo Jima with flags from those theatres of war. The crowd roared its approval.
These men had fought against German fascism and Japanese militarism. But Trump’s brain did not really want to talk about that. He quickly swerved to the cold war and a midterm election message about godless communists taking over the Democratic party.
“Our warriors did not fight communism on battlefields across the world only to have that menace rear its ugly head right back here in America. We are not going to let it happen. We like to stop a threat like that immediately, before it begins. It’s like a cancer — you have to cut it out, and you have to cut it out fast.”
Trump moved on to the Wright brothers’ first flight and, just 66 years later, Americans planting their flag on the moon. He introduced the crew of Artemis II (a woman! a Canadian!) and Jack Schmitt of Apollo 17, who walked on the moon in 1972.
“So I assume you’re heading to Mars next?” Trump said. “I think that is something we do have in mind — we’ll do the moon, and then we’ll go from there, to Mars, and continue to be way ahead.”
Even in his closing remarks, intended to be an epic paean to America, Trump again diverted into the rhetorical back alleys of “safe, gleaming and beautiful again” Washington, the “Gulf of America” and how everyone’s 401(k)s are doing. This was not the stuff of Ken Burns.
Trump declared: “Over 250 years, the world has seen great empires, mighty nations, and terrible tyrants. They came, and they went. But after two and a half centuries, this American republic still stands tall and strong, and we love each other.”
The message of love rang somewhat hollow from a US president who has sought to divide rather than unite the people.
Then came a firework display that Trump had promised would be the biggest and best the world had ever seen (we shall let Guinness World Records be the judge of that), accompanied by loud music that included the Village People’s YMCA.
It all made for the strangest show on earth – the defeat of a king celebrated by a would-be king – and a distinctly partisan one. Hats that said “Make America great again” and “Trump was right about everything” were in abundance. Earlier in the evening, when the crowd was ordered to evacuate, there was defiance in the air that matched the angry roar of military jets flying overhead.
Many refused the Secret Service’s pleas to leave, chanting “USA! USA!” and “We want Trump!” One could even be heard remarking: “We need January 6 mark II.” Eventually they relented and, in an ironic twist, some took shelter at the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture.
Not everyone, however, had come solely to witness Trump’s underwhelming delivery. Kenneth Edwards, 43, a teacher, had driven all the way from Tallahassee, Florida, to see the fireworks and so his daughter could make a TikTok video at the Washington Monument. “We’ll road trip for almost anything, so 13 hours for a TikTok? We’ll do that, if need be.”
What about Trump? “I don’t get into all of the politics and stuff, man,” Edwards replied. “I just wanted to bring my kids to see some really cool fireworks.”
