WHY SOME BRITISH PEOPLE DON’T LIKE TRUMP!

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WHY SOME BRITISH PEOPLE DON’T LIKE TRUMP!

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Someone on Quora asked “Why do some British people not like Donald Trump?”  Nate White, an articulate and witty writer from England wrote this magnificent response.

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A few things spring to mind.

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Trump lacks certain qualities which the British traditionally esteem.

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For instance, he has no class, no charm, no coolness, no credibility, no compassion, no wit, no warmth, no wisdom, no subtlety, no sensitivity, no self-awareness, no humility, no honour and no grace – all qualities, funnily enough, with which his predecessor Mr. Obama was generously blessed.

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So for us, the stark contrast does rather throw Trump’s limitations into embarrassingly sharp relief.

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Plus, we like a laugh. And while Trump may be laughable, he has never once said anything wry, witty or even faintly amusing – not once, ever.

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I don’t say that rhetorically, I mean it quite literally: not once, not ever. And that fact is particularly disturbing to the British sensibility – for us, to lack humour is almost inhuman.

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But with Trump, it’s a fact.  He doesn’t even seem to understand what a joke is – his idea of a joke is a crass comment, an illiterate insult, a casual act of cruelty.

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Trump is a troll.  And like all trolls, he is never funny and he never laughs; he only crows or jeers.

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And scarily, he doesn’t just talk in crude, witless insults – he actually thinks in them.  His mind is a simple bot-like algorithm of petty prejudices and knee-jerk nastiness.

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There is never any under-layer of irony, complexity, nuance or depth.  It’s all surface.

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Some Americans might see this as refreshingly upfront.

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Well, we don’t.  We see it as having no inner world, no soul.

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And in Britain we traditionally side with David, not Goliath.  All our heroes are plucky underdogs: Robin Hood, Dick Whittington, Oliver Twist.

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Trump is neither plucky, nor an underdog.  He is the exact opposite of that.

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He’s not even a spoiled rich-boy, or a greedy fat-cat.

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He’s more a fat white slug.  A Jabba the Hutt of privilege.

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And worse, he is that most unforgivable of all things to the British: a bully.

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That is, except when he is among bullies; then he suddenly transforms into a snivelling sidekick instead.

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There are unspoken rules to this stuff – the Queensberry rules of basic decency – and he breaks them all. He punches downwards – which a gentleman should, would, could never do – and every blow he aims is below the belt.  He particularly likes to kick the vulnerable or voiceless – and he kicks them when they are down.

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So the fact that a significant minority – perhaps a third – of Americans look at what he does, listen to what he says, and then think ‘Yeah, he seems like my kind of guy’ is a matter of some confusion and no little distress to British people, given that:
* Americans are supposed to be nicer than us, and mostly are.
* You don’t need a particularly keen eye for detail to spot a few flaws in the man.

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This last point is what especially confuses and dismays British people, and many other people too; his faults seem pretty bloody hard to miss.

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After all, it’s impossible to read a single tweet, or hear him speak a sentence or two, without staring deep into the abyss.  He turns being artless into an art form; he is a Picasso of pettiness; a Shakespeare of shit. His faults are fractal: even his flaws have flaws, and so on ad infinitum.

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God knows there have always been stupid people in the world, and plenty of nasty people too.  But rarely has stupidity been so nasty, or nastiness so stupid.

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He makes Nixon look trustworthy and George W look smart.

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In fact, if Frankenstein decided to make a monster assembled entirely from human flaws – he would make a Trump.

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And a remorseful Doctor Frankenstein would clutch out big clumpfuls of hair and scream in anguish:

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My God… what… have… I… created?

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