Trump and the democratic heart
Next time you’re at PNC Park get there a little early and walk north on Federal Street until you come to the bulky Northside U.S. Post Office building. It’s not far from the ballyard, I promise.
Or, if you’re on the Monongahela River side of town, you just might stroll over to Smithfield Street and take a gander at the squat, inelegant state office building at the end of the block.
If you do one or the other of these things you will have walked in the very large shoes of the 16th president of the United States.
What am I talking about?
This weekend marks an anniversary of sorts. On February 14, 1861, Abraham Lincoln took the train to Pittsburgh, enroute to his inauguration in Washington, D.C.
Lincoln was greeted by a cold hard rain and a warm welcoming crowd at the Ft. Wayne and Chicago Railroad station (today’s USPS site) in what was then Allegheny city. Following a carriage ride of some length, he, wife Mary and their three sons Bob, Willie, and Tad arrived at the Smithfield Street hostelry the Monongahela House, where they stayed overnight in a second floor suite.
On the morning of the 15th, president-elect Lincoln stepped onto the hotel’s second-floor balcony which overlooked Smithfield Street. There to make a speech, he was greeted by thousands of upturned faces and not a few umbrellas, for the rain of the previous evening had continued through the night.
A Republican high tariff man, Lincoln began his address by speaking of his plans to keep Pittsburgh’s foundries and factories at full throttle. At last he turned to the subject on every mind: Southern secession and a possible civil war.
On his way east from his Springfield, Illinois, home, Lincoln had spoken dozens of times.
At least twice, he had gestured southward across a body water, in reference to the disaffected states. Now, from his perch on the Monongahela House balcony, Lincoln, lifting his long right arm and pointing in the direction of the Mon, declared, “There is no crisis except an artificial one.”
To loud applause, Lincoln remarked that if “self-possesion” prevailed on “both sides” of the American divide, “just as other clouds have cleared away, so will this, and this great nation will continue to prosper.”
“Getting right with Lincoln” was once a prerequisite for American politicos who wanted to advance their careers. This meant, a politician with any pretense of serious chops had to “measure up” to the standards Lincoln set during the four years of civil war.
None have, but all have tried, in one way or another. Until now. Donald Trump is the anti-Lincoln.
Lincoln was shrewd, subtle, a politician to the bone – a gatherer of votes, in Carl Sandburg’s apt phrase. The smartest guy in any room he was in, Lincoln was a master at maneuver and manipulation. He was also a small-d democrat. His reverence for free elections is what led, in good measure, to the civil war. The larger cause was his embrace of the promises contained in the Declaration of Independence.
By freeing from bondage nearly four million chattel slaves, Lincoln would begin the long, never-quite-complete task of fulfilling the Founder’s pledge of equality for all.
Trump has no cross to bear that is in any way similar to Lincoln’s, except one: to preserve in good order the institutions of constitutional democracy erected by those same Founders.
Lincoln wisely and courageously preserved those institutions.
Trump seems intent on bending them to his personal will, whatever the cost to future generations.
Out of the chaos of slavery, Lincoln sought constitutional order. Trump, meanwhile, presides over probably the most chaotic and out-of-control administration in our history. What he had done in just the past few days to the Department of Justice is dangerous and reprehensible.
Lincoln was a uniter. Trump is a divider. Lincoln used language to heal. Not infrequently, Trump uses language, and his Twitter feed, to wound. Trump calls people names. Lincoln called Americans to account. At Gettysburg, his words evoked a rebirth of freedom.
It’s easy to get carried away with Lincoln. He erred. He was human.
On the flip side, it is easy to pillage Trump. It’s not clear that does any good, however. It only seems to reinforce the belief of millions of his followers that he is doing the Lord’s work, or, at the very least, keeping the stock market high and humming.
In the 1930s, newspaper columnist Dorothy Thompson wrote, “The war against democracy begins by the destruction of the democratic temper, the democratic method, and the democratic heart.”
Lincoln had the head, heart, and temperament of a democrat. Donald Trump is something all together different.
Richard Robbins lives in Uniontown. He can be reached at dick.l.robbins@gmail.com.