PUBLISHED TO
Dr. Anthony Fauci, the director of the National Institute of Allergy
and Infectious Diseases at the National Institutes of Health, seems like
a good and dedicated public servant. He has been with the NIH since
1968 and was a key player in the 2003 plan to combat AIDS as well as
heading up a group considering how to protect against the threat of
bioterrorism following 9/11. He’s done important work not just on
fighting HIV/AIDS, but in addressing several diseases of the immune
system. He was instrumental in developing therapies for at least three
formerly fatal diseases.
At 79, Fauci is a very accomplished, dedicated scientist whose service to the nation and the world is without question. And now he has to stand up every single day while Donald Trump uses him as a prop in a ritual designed to paint Trump as the savior in a disaster he’s still enacting.
It was clear from the beginning that the purpose of the “coronavirus task force” was not to provide the nation with consistent leadership in a time of unparalleled threat. Which is good. Because they haven’t done that. The purpose of the task force is the purpose of everything else in Trump’s Washington—bolstering Trump’s ego. Which leaves Fauci dancing on the edge of a razor blade every day as he tries to slip a crumb of truth to America … without joining all the other competent people in the unemployment line.
There’s no property Donald Trump hates worse than competence. Whether it’s generals, scientists, or politicians, anyone who has actually tried to tell Trump something other than how great he is, has discovered there is truly no such thing as an indispensable person. Even if there is. It doesn’t matter how many times someone nods along with Trump over the most ridiculous proposals, all it takes is one sign that they’re correcting him, or worse still actively contradicting him—even in a statement that is clearly, absolutely, unequivocally wrong—for someone to find that they’re suddenly happy about being assigned to somewhere far, far away.
Each of the daily events from the coronavirus task force has assumed a form that’s straight from a North Korea playbook. First Trump speaks, making mostly announcements that do nothing to address coronavirus—closing the border with Canada! Flight restrictions on Europe!—but do serve the right-wing narrative of this crisis, which is all xenophobia, all the time. Then Mike Pence stands up to engage in a level of ass kissing that really should be confined to the bedroom. Or at least to somewhere that the rest of us cannot see. Every sentence of Pence’s segment has to include some form of “thanks to your great leadership, Mr. President...” that it’s not clear that any information, on any topic at all, is relayed.
It’s enough to make viewers wonder if perhaps someone is holding a gun to Mother’s head just offstage.
Afterward, others like Health and Human Services Secretary Alex Azar and White House Coronavirus Task Force coordinator Deborah Birx do a little better, but only in the sense that their segments are only 80% Trump praise.
Occasionally some information slips through, often in the form of explaining things that Trump threw out without context—or understanding—a few minutes earlier.
And then, in the midst of a Q and A session which Trump uses as an opportunity for additional periods of self-praise, he occasionally remembers “Tony” and directs him toward the mic. These are critical moments. Fauci can’t afford to call Trump on his bulls#it, and occasionally must even produce some semi-circular logic or tangential evidence to support a claim that Trump has made about the great greatness of his superb, prescient, smarter-than-any-doctor response. He does.
Because Fauci understands where he is: he’s on the wall. He’s standing between the public and a White House that really wants nothing more than to explain how great it will be as we all watch Rome burn. Praise Trump for those toasty marshmallows. The coronavirus task force appearances are not about the coronavirus. They’re about Trump. They’re about Trump trying to project an image of “commander in chief,” which in Trump’s terms means he says any damn thing that pops into his head, then is followed by a Greek chorus of people explaining how every word from his mouth and every act of his stubby fingers is pure gold.
Against that background, Fauci tries to genuinely keep the nation informed, even if that means not screaming about the utter inanity of everything going on around him. It’s clearly difficult, and the schedule of appearances, work, and interviews is clearly wearing on a man who is, after all, 79 years old and not a professional spokesperson. Hopefully he’s washing his hands after every encounter with Trump. And not just for the hygiene.
At 79, Fauci is a very accomplished, dedicated scientist whose service to the nation and the world is without question. And now he has to stand up every single day while Donald Trump uses him as a prop in a ritual designed to paint Trump as the savior in a disaster he’s still enacting.
It was clear from the beginning that the purpose of the “coronavirus task force” was not to provide the nation with consistent leadership in a time of unparalleled threat. Which is good. Because they haven’t done that. The purpose of the task force is the purpose of everything else in Trump’s Washington—bolstering Trump’s ego. Which leaves Fauci dancing on the edge of a razor blade every day as he tries to slip a crumb of truth to America … without joining all the other competent people in the unemployment line.
There’s no property Donald Trump hates worse than competence. Whether it’s generals, scientists, or politicians, anyone who has actually tried to tell Trump something other than how great he is, has discovered there is truly no such thing as an indispensable person. Even if there is. It doesn’t matter how many times someone nods along with Trump over the most ridiculous proposals, all it takes is one sign that they’re correcting him, or worse still actively contradicting him—even in a statement that is clearly, absolutely, unequivocally wrong—for someone to find that they’re suddenly happy about being assigned to somewhere far, far away.
Each of the daily events from the coronavirus task force has assumed a form that’s straight from a North Korea playbook. First Trump speaks, making mostly announcements that do nothing to address coronavirus—closing the border with Canada! Flight restrictions on Europe!—but do serve the right-wing narrative of this crisis, which is all xenophobia, all the time. Then Mike Pence stands up to engage in a level of ass kissing that really should be confined to the bedroom. Or at least to somewhere that the rest of us cannot see. Every sentence of Pence’s segment has to include some form of “thanks to your great leadership, Mr. President...” that it’s not clear that any information, on any topic at all, is relayed.
It’s enough to make viewers wonder if perhaps someone is holding a gun to Mother’s head just offstage.
Afterward, others like Health and Human Services Secretary Alex Azar and White House Coronavirus Task Force coordinator Deborah Birx do a little better, but only in the sense that their segments are only 80% Trump praise.
Occasionally some information slips through, often in the form of explaining things that Trump threw out without context—or understanding—a few minutes earlier.
And then, in the midst of a Q and A session which Trump uses as an opportunity for additional periods of self-praise, he occasionally remembers “Tony” and directs him toward the mic. These are critical moments. Fauci can’t afford to call Trump on his bulls#it, and occasionally must even produce some semi-circular logic or tangential evidence to support a claim that Trump has made about the great greatness of his superb, prescient, smarter-than-any-doctor response. He does.
Because Fauci understands where he is: he’s on the wall. He’s standing between the public and a White House that really wants nothing more than to explain how great it will be as we all watch Rome burn. Praise Trump for those toasty marshmallows. The coronavirus task force appearances are not about the coronavirus. They’re about Trump. They’re about Trump trying to project an image of “commander in chief,” which in Trump’s terms means he says any damn thing that pops into his head, then is followed by a Greek chorus of people explaining how every word from his mouth and every act of his stubby fingers is pure gold.
Against that background, Fauci tries to genuinely keep the nation informed, even if that means not screaming about the utter inanity of everything going on around him. It’s clearly difficult, and the schedule of appearances, work, and interviews is clearly wearing on a man who is, after all, 79 years old and not a professional spokesperson. Hopefully he’s washing his hands after every encounter with Trump. And not just for the hygiene.
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