It dawned on me the other day that waiting out this virus doesn't feel all that unfamiliar because many of us have been waiting out this presidency since soon after it began.
Long before stocking up on yeast and toilet paper, many of us were sheltering in place psychologically, stoically awaiting the all-clear. I should speak in the first person here. I remember a dim hope that the presidency itself would change the man stepping into it. Would he rise to the office and embrace decency and his better angels? On January 20, 2017, I watched the inaugural address with my fifth graders just after recess, doing my best to look and act measured. I remember needing to explain the word "carnage." (Trying to explain to children the words and actions of this R-rated president would become a theme throughout this administration for myself, my colleagues, and fellow parents.) And then the silliness about crowd size the next day. By February, it was clear that the candidate and the president would be the same man. And through the months since, the litany of offenses has simply hardened the bunkers of people like me. I'm trying to summon up a time, a single instance, where this president's response to a situation (or question) has made me proud to be represented by this man. Even when I vaguely agreed with him on substance, such as engaging with North Korea, I cringed at his tone. And I would comfort myself that at least nothing terrible had happened -- no national crisis to test his leadership. Maybe, if we held our breath long enough and focused on our own work and families, we could reach the finish line of this administration with fixable damage.
How does he stay so ubiquitous, so top-of-mind, so relevant even if reviled? Clearly, his use of social media is unprecedented. With eighty million Twitter followers and the international media to echo-amplify his Tweets, it seems his every inane thought goes viral. The two great viruses of our age are corona and Trumpism (which is a fancy name for the momentary, Fox-fueled reactions that pose as thoughts through Twitter). Both novel, both ubiquitous, both potentially deadly. Here in Massachusetts, blessed with a leader with integrity, it seems we are at the back end of this COVID crisis. So what if we turned the tools we've used to fight this pandemic against that other scourge?
In the absence of a vaccine, we the public were advised to take every precaution to stem the transmission of the novel coronavirus. To that end, businesses and schools were shuttered, we all found ways to cover our faces, we stayed six feet apart, stopped sharing meals, washed our hands obsessively. I personally went from giving a hundred hallway high-fives a day to sitting on my hands to stop touching my face.
Trump's virus is simply a set of ideas that are transmissible across media platforms. Central is the concept that we've been ripped off, that whatever anger we feel has an extrinsic source, that we are strong and righteous Americans who at the same time have been victimized by the elites, the foreigners, the imagined left-wing conspiracy. His is a zero-sum worldview that depends on scapegoats for legitimacy. But let me go further because a majority of us don't subscribe to this crap. His effectiveness is more rudimentary and insipid: he divides us.
He incites and exploits the anger within each of us. When we enter the world of social media we are inundated with memes and messages that wedge us away from our neighbors. Much, but certainly not all, is relative to the malignant Tweets spewing from the White House. Then we have rivals like Russia and China encouraging social media that splinters our American society, power-washing the ties that bind us together. Our disunity is their opportunity.
I was going for a metaphor there before I got carried away. Use pandemic-fighting tools to eradicate Trumpism. Right.
Think twice before sharing that meme. When you press that share button, you are sneezing in a crowded elevator. You shouldn't even be in that elevator! Stay home! At the very least, cover your face!
The other day my dear aunt in Florida shared the meme of Trump holding up the Bible awkwardly in front of St. John's Episcopal Church in D.C. beside a matching photo of Hitler holding a Bible in a similar pose. Its intended effect: visceral outrage! What is this world coming to?! Can it get any worse? I need to share this feeling with everyone! I need to protect America!
Normally, I'd pass that meme along to my besties because WE MUST STAY INFORMED but fortunately my sister passed along the information that the Hitler photo had been Photoshopped. The point is, we all pass along disinformation. Whether it's the crap that Fox and Trump put out or crap that's reactive to that crap, rule of thumb should be that if it's a message that instantly gets you fired up -- pure pathos -- you should wait, consider, digest, and consider the source, before that ah - ah - ah - ah - AH-CHOOOO!
Elementary schools contain the wisdom of generations. One of the best posters I've seen in recent years is the T.H.I.N.K. acronym, which advises students that before they blurt something out, they should first T.H.I.N.K.: Is the thing I'm about to say True? Is it Helpful? Is it Interesting? Is it Necessary? and Is it Kind?
If we adults put the T.H.I.N.K. test to our social media posts, we will help curtail the spread of division that is tearing us asunder. Let's focus on our commonalities, our shared humanity. Let's starve the viral scourge of our time and flatten, not fatten, the curve.
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