Well, what is there to say about that thing?
The fireworks thing.
The Mount Rushmore thing.
The Trump thing.
And the Andrew Jackson thing.
Sam Hurst and I spent a little time trying to figure that out one morning this week when I was out walking the dog on West Boulevard. Sam saw us coming and strolled over onto the boulevard grass, as he sometimes does, to meet us for a chat as we passed his house.
So there we stood a COVID-safe distance away and discussed the Trump speech at Mount Rushmore.
It was a rough emotional ride for Sam, that speech, which he watched on TV, as I did. It was rough, to one degree or another, for many people living any distance outside of the Trump camp of devotees.
Or at least it could have been if you were inclined to let it be, which I wasn’t.
I live far outside the Trump camp. But the speech wasn’t rough for me. It was tedious.
I love Mount Rushmore, as complicated and contradictory as it might be. So I tuned in. And I enjoyed the military bands and high-speed flyovers, took interest in the notable attendees, admired the Lone Ranger of mask-wearing on stage — more on Congressman Dusty Johnson in a moment — and saw a few people I know in the crowd.
Those were the highlights. Then the president spoke, imposing with his words a sort of general malaise that descended into abject boredom, for me at least.
I gave in to the tedium of the expected, of Trump being Trump, rather than Trump being presidential.
I’m so tired of that routine.
When it comes to feeding the beast, he’s the best
President Trump gave us exactly what we should have expected from Mount Rushmore — a divisive, self-indulgent, Wikipedia-sourced speech, which was heavy on the “patriotic” pandering and virtually devoid of anything resembling historical nuance, appeals for unity or outreach to the disadvantaged and disaffected.
Rhetorical red meat, it was, piled high for a ravenous dog of a political base that never seems to stop growling for more. And Trump loves to feed that dog.
So it was Trump at his “best,” I suppose, although these days even those who admire his “best” might notice that it includes a sluggish, barely engaged delivery that makes it seem as if he consumed a couple of Big Macs and a double side of Quaaludes shortly before the event.
Lean on the lectern and look to the left; squint at the teleprompter and read in that weak, dysphonic voice, pursing the lips and cocking the head in between sentences, scrutinizing the words on the screen as if they were in the process of being translated from Greek. Take a break, smile, then lean on the lectern and look to the right, repeating the process. Back and forth, back and forth, hypnotic as a human metronome.
Even at the Shrine of Democracy during a much-hyped event that was doomed to underperform, Trump seemed well below the low-energy level of which he accuses Joe Biden. He was going through the routine like a marginally talented actor who has played the same role too many times.
The speech was badly reasoned, badly written, and finally, badly read. And the chants from the audience of “U-S-A” and “Four More Years” were hardly inspired. They lasted slightly longer than the polite, un-energetic applause from a crowd that, in its defense, had already spent a long day in the hot sun.
Trump spent a lot of time in his speech fretting over the “radical assault” on the “beloved American way of life” by the “new far-left fascism,” which he says is rampant in our schools, our newsrooms and even in our board rooms.
He bragged of deploying federal law officers to “protect monuments” and arrest and prosecute “rioters.” And he pledged to push for 10-year minimum prison sentences for anyone defacing monuments.
I’m all for protecting public property. And I think the way to remove an offensive statue, if it is to be removed, is through a public process with lots of discussions, not with a mob and sledgehammers.
But it’s a complicated issue. And we need to approach it with reason, not with overwrought rhetoric and threats of heavy prison sentences.
Supporting the blue line without confronting racist behavior
Trump stood up for police and against calls to defund police forces, which was fine. But didn’t stand up for blacks and other minorities killed by police in situations that were either criminal or inept and unprofessional to a lethal degree, and often seemed racially based.
The president didn’t call for better policing or suggest ways to help police handle social problems they are called upon to confront every day, without the needed resources and often putting them in no-win situations.
Nor did he didn’t examine the racist realities that live on in America, or promote any policy or program or ideas on how to improve things.
But he did give a 6th-grade history teacher’s view of American history, by way of a speechwriter who is clearly comfortable with Wikipedia.
And in that history area, I have to admit, the president did get my attention. Twice, he referred to Andrew Jackson as a great leader.
And hearing those references, for the first and second times in that 41-minute speech, I was astonished. The president of the United States came to the spiritual center of the Lakota Nation and invoked the name of Andrew Jackson, as a great leader.
Twice.
Regardless of what he might think of Andrew Jackson or what you or I might think, what many if not most Lakota people — and many if not most Native Americans overall — think of Andrew Jackson, if they think of him at all, is the worst.
First, as an Army officer who led military campaigns against tribes in southern states and eventually as the president who promoted a policy of “Indian removal” and signed the Indian Removal Act of 1830, Jackson earned enduring enmity throughout Indian Country, here and elsewhere.
Either Trump or the writers of his speech are clueless about this essential point of history or they intentionally brought up Jackson to jam a thumb in the eye of the Lakota nation. Either way, it was stunning, to me, at least.
No other president would have made such an attack on public education
And it was one of the few points in the speech that made me take notice. Another, unfortunately, was this comment by the president as he attacked public education: “Against every law of society and nature, our children are taught in school to hate their own country and to believe that the men and women who built it were not heroes but that they were villains.”
And he continued: “The radical view of American history is a web of lies, all perspective is removed, every virtue is obscured, every motive is twisted, every fact is distorted and every flaw is magnified until the history is purged and the record is disfigured beyond all recognition.”
First, I’m offended for educators, especially those in my family who have given or are giving so much of themselves to provide an education that is nothing like what Donald Trump suggests. Second, I thought it only fair to let my sister, Mary Alice Haug, a retired English teacher in state high schools and, for most of her career, at South Dakota State University, respond:
“In my 40 years in education in South Dakota, I never heard of any teacher accused of teaching their students to hate their country,” she said. “I’m sure teachers in every state would say the same thing. To suggest it’s a universal problem as President Trump did would mean that the states, boards of regents, school administrators, school boards, and parents would have agreed on including hatred for country in the curriculum.
“Otherwise, parents and community members would have raised the issue in public forums,” she continued. “If someone can prove this is happening, please tell me where and who. President Trump’s words were inflammatory, untrue, and painful to hear, as was the applause he was given.”
And what president could say such things, in the shadow of Mount Rushmore or anywhere else?
This one. Only this one.
But there was something notable and positive at the Mount Rushmore event, besides the military bands and the aircraft flyovers and the grandeur of the sculpture itself.
There was an unusual act of courage, by a politician, no less.
Congressman Dusty Johnson needed courage and resolve to show up in a protective face mask, to join other dignitaries on stage and to wear that mask throughout the event.
He appeared to be the only one among the dignitaries on both wings of the stage wearing a mask. And one of the few — 5 percent, maybe, or less? — in the amphitheater.
Who was that masked man? A Johnson worth praising
Why? I like to believe he did it because it was the right, reasonable, responsible, CDC-recommended thing to do in a large crowd in close contact with others, even outside.
Sen. Mike Rounds told reporters days before the event that he would wear a mask. But then he didn’t. Then he did. Then he didn’t, again.
When I first saw Rounds come on stage, he didn’t have a mask. Then a while later he did. Then when President Trump and his wife, Melania, came out, the mask was gone.
So I’m going to call that not wearing a mask, in any meaningful way.
I never saw Sen. John Thune in a mask at Mount Rushmore. I think I saw him wearing one earlier in the day, maybe at Ellsworth, in a TV clip shown later. But certainly not on the stage below the four famous faces. And not around Trump
Gov. Kristi Noem? Nope. But then I never expect to see a mask on her or any members of her family or close staff.
Noem has done, I think, a much better job of leading South Dakota in its response to COVID-19 than her critics would admit. Mostly, she has leaned on science and experts in promoting safe behavior, while not imposing economically crushing mandates.
And other than the Smithfield blowup, which wasn’t Noem’s fault, South Dakota is doing OK. So far.
Her Trumpish attitude toward masks is, I hope, an aberration, and one that seems to have taken shape lately. It’s similar to the goofy hydroxychloroquine trial she promoted. Both are contradictions, it seems, to her other more reasonable and effective behavior.
I wasn’t sure what to expect from Johnson. But I had an inkling. He has already proven capable of tough votes based on conscience and personal philosophy, even when they conflict with Trump’s wishes. And I know Johnson believes in the value of masks in slowing the spread of COVID-19 and even saving lives.
But there’s pressure to comply with Trump’s disregard for masks, especially while in his presence. I wondered whether that pressure would have an effect on Johnson.
If it did, it didn’t show. He wore his belief on his face, despite what must have been some degree of discomfort.
So that was my highlight from the big bash at Mount Rushmore: a single politician behaving like a statesman.
Too bad it wasn’t the president.
