“. . . an act of cruelty . . . was the ancient irresistible rejoicing of power over weakness.”

– Tony Hoagland 

“You cannot follow both Christ and the cruelty of kings. A leader who mocks the weak, exalts himself, and preys on the innocent is not sent by God. He is sent to test you. And many are failing.”       

– Pope Leo XIV 

“Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and Despair.”

– Percy Bysshe Shelley, Ozymandias

I

The mythological character, Narcissus, who is mesmerized by his own image mirrored in water, is the origin of the term narcissism, an obsessively self-centered personality type marked by grandiosity, excessive need for attention and admiration, and an inability to empathize. The inflated ego of the narcissist is unconcerned with the humanity of others or in caring for them. He wants slavish admiration, not petitions for assistance. We say in our Declaration of Independence that certain truths are self-evident—that all men are created equal, etc. It should also be self-evident that a narcissist may be the least possible good choice for a leader.

Narcissism comes in a variety of forms and degrees. For some it is a physical attribute—admire my huge biceps! For others, a particular skill—no one can skate as fast as I! 

The narcissist can be a beauty queen, a professor, an actor, a pilot, a plumber . . . .

The needy narcissist may simply crave constant attention and reassurance. But the most dangerous narcissist is the one who needs power, power over others, to feed his insatiable identity hunger. The line from the African spiritual, “He’s got the whole world in his hands,” refers to the hands of God and, thus, the care given by God. That same line, for the narcissist of power, proclaims his desire for all-encompassing control.

II

Such is Trump—infatuated with himself and his ability to humiliate and crush, to disrupt others’ destinies. That’s the thing: it’s not simply to be better than. He aspires to be the terrifying machine in the junk yard whose magnetism lifts the unwary, as well as the wary, off the ground, then crushes them into a block of scrap. He exalts in his strength. He enhances his life  by squeezing life out of others. Only idolatry saves a possible victim from the crusher. Self-abasement is the price of political survival. Self-deportation for the immigrant. Self-humiliation for the rival. Better to lie flat when Trump swings his scythe. Expect castration if you challenge him in a pissing contest.

One of the mysteries of the narcissist of power is his gravitational pull; he is a self-created planet in an imaginary galaxy whose gravity is irresistible to the cowardly, the sycophantish, the racist. Irresistible to those who want to be freed from the dictates of reality and failed ideologies on the old planet. His new planet sweeps by and its magnetism drags along, like iron filings, all those who don’t want to accept any restrictions on the expansion and exploitation of capitalism, don’t want to admit truth of climate change, those who want the false promises of the American Dream to be made real by a tyrant, those who resent and fear the immigrant, especially the immigrant of color, and those who want to believe the myth of exceptionalism entitles them not just to a bigger slice of the pie but the entire pie.

The power narcissist desperately embraces denial and irresponsibility like a life preserver. Denial saves him from the flood of facts that make his narcissism and greed irresponsible, indeed criminal. This is, of course, a kind of insanity. Greed and wealth do not overpower reality. In fact, they increase reality’s power, tighten its noose. As James Baldwin said, “People who shut their eyes to reality simply invite their own destruction.”

III

The narcissist of power is inevitably an authoritarian, a bully. The only time one sees him being politely deferential to another person is with another tyrant. He wants to be liked by other tyrants, people whose successful narcissism justifies his own. But he doesn’t want just his power, power to revel in, like a pig in shit, but he wants other peoples’ power, as though power is a zero sum commodity. He wants it all and he wants loyalty and obedience from those whose power he has taken. Otherwise, he delights in outmaneuvering, defeating, tripping, banishing. That’s a particular favorite—banishing.  Oh, the power to steal another’s freedom, his agency, his potency! He relishes a contest where the issue is not truth but who has power over truth.  He mocks the earnest integrity of another’s truth, then tries to crush it.  He makes truth his toy, the kind a nasty kid would gleefully punch and kick, rip off its nose and ears. The real test of power is how easily and totally it can overpower truth, making the strength of power the only truth worth discussing.

The narcissist needs to intimidate. To cow.  Does he want to be praised out of respect and admiration? Yes, but only respect spiced with the condiment of fear. Without fear, power is nearly tasteless. The narcissist of power promises benefits, but usually does not have the expertise to deliver because he thinks he can bully his way to success. The victim’s fear prepares him to participate in his own victimization. Lie down and be run over.

IV

The narcissist of power is ultimately a traitor—to his community, to his family, to the common good, his country, to the living planet. He has no humility for accepting his place in the web of life. Any system, any web that implies equality and interdependence, contradicts his superiority.

Only humility and reality can save the planet.  

Three of the most important measures for the power narcissist are money, military might, and the refusal to be bound by law. With money he can control the political agenda; with might he can take and control other’s resources; and the effrontery to break laws and dare others to hold him accountable demonstrates his unassailable power.

Too late we learn that this narcissist’s power does not really have the gravity of an illusory planet, but the insatiable gravity of a black hole. It wants everything—all wealth, all values, all species, all admiration, all time.

It’s also flim-flammery. We must call it what it is, resist its suicidal pomposity. Take it, like a souffle taken out of the oven, so hot air will escape.  

V

I’m trying to understand my own feelings about how it feels to be living in a country that is becoming fascist. Some things are familiar, the same. I can drive to the supermarket and buy food, put gas in the car. The green beans are growing in the garden. Netflix is updating its movies. I have dinner with friends who denounce Trump without the gestapo breaking down the door. They are outraged at his deceit and assumption of power, his cruelty, but also try to laugh at him, laugh at his posturing, the stupid things he says. But we also know we have little direct power to curtail him. Knowing the historical  horror of what people have gone through in fascist countries, we are reluctant to acknowledge that this is really happening to us. But the truth is, it is. The brittleness of the laughter is surreal. Having the courage to resist, reject, and denounce it—and him—will define us in history.