thenation--2020-08-04--What Truths Can You Divine From Instagram Paintings?

Which is the real work of art : the one on the wall or the one in your mind after you ’ ve seen it ?
Which counts more , the object or the experience ?
I ’ ve long insisted that it is impossible to evaluate an artwork—and especially , perhaps , if it ’ s a painting—without seeing it firsthand .
The only exceptions are works made specifically for reproduction—in other words , certain ( but not all ) kinds of conceptual art , but also graphic arts , comics , and the like .
Otherwise , reproductions @ @ @ @ @ @ @ don ’ t do the trick of communicating a work ’ s innate materiality , however rarefied or seemingly intangible that materiality may be .
As the painter Rafael Vega recently told me , reflecting on the move by galleries to take more of their business online , “ Like it or not , we need physical space to show those objects , because [ paintings ] exist in a real time and place .
At least for now , I don ’ t see how online shows can do the same thing.
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ admit that I have not always been able to keep strictly to this rule .
I ’ ve sat on committees and juries that have had to make decisions on awards and fellowships for artists or admissions for artists ’ colonies , workshops , and MFA programs , and we ’ ve almost always had to make our decisions based on secondhand images of the work .
We did our best , trying collectively to divine , from the colored shadows tossed on the wall by a projector and with the help , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ artist , what was being attempted and , to some degree , accomplished .
But our best never really felt as good as it should be .
And yet , being unable to see real works of art in person for months has made me realize just how much I have come to depend on seeing works online—and how I get more from that experience than I ’ d been willing to admit .
I have not felt much desire to delve into the online offerings of galleries and museums , but nonetheless @ @ @ @ @ @ @ onscreen—it ’ s just that I ’ ve been getting it straight from the artists , mainly via their Instagram accounts .
I ’ ve liked that .
One reason is shyness : I don ’ t have to announce my having seen the work or interact with the artist if I ’ m not inclined to do so .
In that way , looking at artists ’ Instagram posts is more like visiting a gallery than visiting a studio—less personal , potentially more anonymous .
And it ’ s a mostly visual @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Something catches your eye or it doesn ’ t—that ’ s the easy part—but when it holds your attention for more than the moment it takes to click “ like , ” the why and how of that hold are complicated and mysterious enough to become interesting in themselves .
In other words , there ’ s a lot you don ’ t know about what you ’ re seeing when you see a painting online , and that sense of unknowing—of mystery—can become part of the truth of the experience .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ online for a few years is Christina Quarles .
I know more about her than I do about many of the other artists whose work catches my eye on Instagram , because she ’ s quickly become well-known : Her art has evidently caught the eye of quite a few people .
Since graduating from Yale ’ s MFA program in 2016 , she ’ s exhibited widely , not only in Los Angeles , where she now lives , but as far afield as Shanghai and London ; an exhibition at the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Chicago , should have opened in April , but was postponed until next year .
Her exhibitions ( not only in prominent galleries but in museums such as the Hepworth Wakefield in West Yorkshire , England , and the Berkeley Art Museum & Pacific Film Archive ) have been widely covered in the press , especially in the United Kingdom .
She has not yet had a solo show in New York , so I ’ ve never seen anything of hers in person .
Quarles ’ s style could be called @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s quite the opposite , a form of abstraction pushed against its inclination to become figurative .
It seems to reflect a half-dystopian , half-hedonistic intuition that the body ’ s plasticity might be far more radical than everyday experience suggests .
One can see her work as part of a tradition that encompasses Francis Bacon ’ s desire to create figures that might be , as he once said , “ made out of something , which is completely irrational from the point of view of being an illustration , ” or @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with their metamorphizing of animal/human forms , but there is a distinctly contemporary cool to her interpretation of this figurative legacy , which could just as easily be compared to the way certain electronic music producers compose their pieces out of cut-up bits of other songs that feel familiar , though , because they ’ ve been slowed down or sped up , you can ’ t quite recognize them .
And because I know from what I ’ ve read about Quarles that she identifies as biracial and queer , I can @ @ @ @ @ @ @ image of the body might have a political dimension .
On May 22 , Quarles posted a new painting , made in quarantine , titled Behold !
And Be Held Beside Me .
It shows a blurry-faced , purplish-hued figure lying prone , knees up , in a field of flowers .
The figure , of indeterminate gender , has weirdly twisted legs and long , long , rubbery arms hanging down in front of a white picket fence .
Behind we glimpse three heads and a pair of arms hugging .
Are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ figure in the foreground ?
Sweetness and grotesquerie coexist in the imagery but also in Quarles ’ s almost too rich palette .
The hues of the heads and bodies , as well as of the flowers , seem to blur translucently into one another like watercolor , while those of the background landscape—earth and foliage simplified into a sequence of curving reddish-brown and green stripes with a strip of blue at the top—and the white fence in front are opaque , their forms more crisply defined .
The white , I can @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is textured , perhaps slightly impastoed .
Are the other colors painted as thinly and smoothly as they look to me , or if I could see the work in person , would they have a similar tactility ?
My longing to see the painting closely is both an element in the ambivalent pleasure I nonetheless derive from its bodiless image and a kind of promise that the real painting has something more to offer—that it does not just picture a body but somehow is a body , that it does not exist @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it bears .
Another Los Angeles–based painter I ’ ve been following , though not as long , is Andrea Marie Breiling .
Since getting her MFA from the Claremont Graduate University in 2014 , she ’ s shown mostly with LA galleries , but also with one in Düsseldorf , Germany .
But there ’ s not much information on her in circulation—no interviews or articles that I can find , just a brief quote on the Facebook page of a gallery where she was in a group show : “ I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ composition and color and you have to think about it like mathematics .
But when I ’ m finished with the work I want it to become a memorial for a time or place .
It ’ s a moment of meditation to create something using color and materials .
” I don ’ t even know when she was born , though I know that it happened in Phoenix .
The first paintings of Breiling ’ s that I noticed , probably around 2018 , seemed to derive from a European approach @ @ @ @ @ @ @ instance , of the Danish artist Per Kirkeby or of the later work of Günther Förg in Germany—a kind of roughed-up painterliness , with conglomerations of vibrantly colored brush marks refusing to meld into distinct forms but retaining their separate identities against a ground of bare canvas .
Despite her professedly mathematical approach to structure , Breiling ’ s touch communicates urgency .
The paintings attracted me , but only more recently did they begin to fascinate me , when I noticed a change in their character .
The new works feature a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ scruffy and agitated and less likely to gravitate together into dense clumps .
Now the paintings are dominated by more extended linear gestures , often in concentric , diamond-like formations counterpoised to an armature of central horizontal and vertical lines—all this in a combination of thickly painted strokes and what appears to be spray paint .
Even more of the canvas has been left unpainted ; the colors are brighter , clearer ; all in all , there is a sense of lightness and speed new to the artist ’ s work .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ great freedom , a sense of “ everything goes , ” and it ’ s wonderfully exhilarating .
So exhilarating is the feeling I get from Breiling ’ s work , even just on the screen , that when I began to think about writing this essay and sorting through my ideas about which artists to include , she was the first one I thought of .
But using social media as a repository of memories has its drawbacks : When I went to her profile to take another look at the images @ @ @ @ @ @ @ me , they were all gone .
She ’ d removed everything except images related to Black Lives Matter .
So I wrote to ask her to send me some images to mull over .
Now we ’ re in touch—I ’ ve never had any direct contact with the other artists I ’ m discussing here—and so the potential transiency of digital images has turned from a drawback into an opportunity to learn more .
But even at secondhand , as seen through my phone , Breiling ’ s art shows a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ; it tells me there ’ s something there , even if I can ’ t quite make out , at this distance , what it is .
It ’ s only been this year that I ’ ve noticed the work of Maja Ruznic .
She was born in Bosnia and Herzegovina in 1983 .
After civil war broke out nine years later , she and her mother spent three years moving through various refugee camps before landing in the United States .
In 2009 she received an MFA from the California @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and she now lives in Roswell , N.M .
Since 2012 she ’ s had solo shows at small galleries in Stockholm , Los Angeles , and Sarajevo , among other places , but most often in Dallas .
And she seems to be on the verge of becoming still better known , as her online bio includes upcoming shows with dates still to be determined—presumably delayed because of the Covid-19 pandemic—at prominent galleries in London and New York .
And it ’ s not only about art that I learn from @ @ @ @ @ @ @ since I started working on this article , Ruznic has become a mother .
Ruznic ’ s paintings are pretty hard to “ read ” online , and yet their unfathomability is part of what drew me to them : There ’ s a dreamy , quasi-Symbolist vibe to her figurative compositions , through which diaphanous personae float .
To quote a poem by Charles Simic from which she drew the title of “ My Noiseless Entourage , ” her exhibition earlier this year at the Conduit Gallery in Dallas , her work @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Of homegrown angels and demons / All of whom I had met before / And had since largely forgotten .
” I ’ d be most curious to see the surfaces of these paintings up close : From what I can tell from the jpegs , the pigment seems rubbed into the canvas in sparse quantities , but some passages look quite dry and powdery and others more fluid , almost molten .
Figures melt into each other and into the space they inhabit .
The boundaries between forms are permeable , uncertain @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for her paintings .
Instead the accent , or perhaps the narrative she wants to put across , is on the idea that there are goings-on in the world that are inaccessible to a purely empirical perception—soul events , you might say .
If that kind of language sets off alarms , I understand .
This work might be hovering on the edge of being too fey for its own good .
Are the paintings stuck in a nebulous dreamworld ?
It ’ s precisely their ambiguity that reassures me that if I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ d find them convincing .
It seems that these unspoken spectacles derive more from Ruznic ’ s exploration of her materials than from a predetermination to put a certain message across , and that very fact , paradoxically , means that there is a fundamental physical reality , accessible to touch and vision , underwriting whatever spiritual message I imagine being communicated .
The artist is not pretending to know more than she really can know .
On Instagram , Ruznic posts close-up details more often than entire paintings , as if @ @ @ @ @ @ @ truth is in its materiality—and that every painting contains within itself a multitude of possible paintings .
Seemingly at an opposite pole from Ruznic ’ s tenuous phantasmatic visions is the often ferocious , sometimes grotesque pictorial imagination of Peter Williams .
He ’ s an artist that I didn ’ t discover via social media—though I follow him now on Instagram—but in a more old-fashioned way : I saw a painting of his , earlier this year , reproduced on a book ’ s cover .
The book is a new novel @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Lynn Crawford ’ s Paula Regossy , but the cover image so fascinated me that I almost had to force myself to move past it to the book ’ s interior .
The painting , in what I ’ d call an almost aggressively fruity palette , seemed to be a sort of abstract equivalent to an M.C .
Escher image , endlessly twisting itself around itself in some impossible way .
It was precisely this sense of impossibility , and of a kind of self-enclosed endlessness , that sent my brain @ @ @ @ @ @ @ forced myself to get past the cover to read the book itself—seemed a perfect complement for Crawford ’ s simultaneously blunt and evasive mix of fantasy and realism , much influenced by the structural gamesmanship of the French OuLiPo group .
The name of Crawford ’ s protagonist turns out to be an anagram of the name of the James Bond character that Williams used as the title of his painting : Pussy Galore .
Paula Regossy is a spy story too , but of a very different kind from Ian Fleming ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from searching on the Internet is that he is an African American in his late 60s , living in Wilmington , Del.
, where he teaches at a state university .
He has a substantial national exhibition history , including several shows in New York that I somehow missed—the most recent at the Cue Art Foundation in 2018 .
More typical of Williams ’ s work than Pussy Galore are figurative paintings that I see in the lineage of Peter Saul and Robert Colescott going back to , maybe , James Ensor and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ humor , exaggeration , and even vulgarity to skewer the wrongs and follies of society .
The disruptive energy of Williams ’ s art is probably best encapsulated by the title of his current exhibition ( through October 10 ) at Paul Kotula Projects in Ferndale , Mich. , in the Detroit metropolitan area : “ Peter Williams : Mass Murder .
” The one thing Williams ’ s figurative paintings share with his abstractions is their intense , assertive , joyously inharmonious color .
The compositions are crowded and raucous and sometimes @ @ @ @ @ @ @ both protagonist and witness : a worried-looking superhero dressed in an orange uniform emblazoned with a big “ N ” above “ WORD ” in smaller print .
Perhaps not surprisingly , among the newest pieces I ’ ve seen on Williams ’ s Instagram feed are two captioned The arrest of George Floyd , posted June 12 , and The ascention of St. George Floyd posted July 10 .
There ’ s no superhero in sight in these paintings .
In The arrest , the central figure is trapped within a kind @ @ @ @ @ @ @ distant from something one might see in one of Williams ’ s abstract works ) , where he is held in place by a plethora of white hands grabbing at his legs , torso , arms , and head , although those hands seem to have no reality except when they have their grip on him .
At the lower edges of the painting are a pair of inset heads—black on the left , white on the right—both apparently behind prison bars .
Around these heads are inscriptions pointing to millions of guilty @ @ @ @ @ @ @ In The ascention , wearing a halo that seems to double as a space helmet , he appears to be taking off , arms stretched out like a dancer ’ s and with just one foot still on this blue planet , into a solar realm where the angels ( or possibly ancestors ) are prepared to receive him .
One online interlocutor gave a thumbs-up to “ All those angels , ” and the artist responded , “ I hope , could be some white debil ’ s [ sic ] .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ this painting , and maybe it has to do with that apprehension that oppression might continue even in the beyond .
There ’ s good reason to maintain some doubt about what you ’ re really seeing when you see a painting onscreen and to be suspicious of art that ’ s easily consumed in that mode .
It might easily be what the critic Rob Colvin dismissed a few years ago as “ Like Art ” : that is , “ art that looks very much like art you ’ ve already @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and that you already like ” and is momentarily pleasing—gets a lot of “ likes ” —for just that reason .
But just as when you see it on the wall in a gallery , a painting that raises more questions than it answers online might well have staying power .
Williams ’ s paintings are anything but easygoing or ingratiating .
I ’ m hoping to commune with them in person—and the same goes for the work of Quarles , Breiling , and Ruznic—if ever fate allows it .

Which is the real work of art: the one on the wall or the one in your mind after you’ve seen it? Which counts more, the object or the experience? I’ve long insisted that it is impossible to evaluate an artwork—and especially, perhaps, if it’s a painting—without seeing it firsthand. The only exceptions are works made specifically for reproduction—in other words, certain (but not all) kinds of conceptual art, but also graphic arts, comics, and the like. Otherwise, reproductions (whether printed or digital) just don’t do the trick of communicating a work’s innate materiality, however rarefied or seemingly intangible that materiality may be. As the painter Rafael Vega recently told me, reflecting on the move by galleries to take more of their business online, “Like it or not, we need physical space to show those objects, because [paintings] exist in a real time and place. At least for now, I don’t see how online shows can do the same thing.”
Of course, I have to admit that I have not always been able to keep strictly to this rule. I’ve sat on committees and juries that have had to make decisions on awards and fellowships for artists or admissions for artists’ colonies, workshops, and MFA programs, and we’ve almost always had to make our decisions based on secondhand images of the work. We did our best, trying collectively to divine, from the colored shadows tossed on the wall by a projector and with the help, sometimes, of some words from the artist, what was being attempted and, to some degree, accomplished. But our best never really felt as good as it should be.
And yet, being unable to see real works of art in person for months has made me realize just how much I have come to depend on seeing works online—and how I get more from that experience than I’d been willing to admit. I have not felt much desire to delve into the online offerings of galleries and museums, but nonetheless I have been seeing lots of art onscreen—it’s just that I’ve been getting it straight from the artists, mainly via their Instagram accounts. I’ve liked that. One reason is shyness: I don’t have to announce my having seen the work or interact with the artist if I’m not inclined to do so. In that way, looking at artists’ Instagram posts is more like visiting a gallery than visiting a studio—less personal, potentially more anonymous. And it’s a mostly visual experience; the textual dimension is secondary. Something catches your eye or it doesn’t—that’s the easy part—but when it holds your attention for more than the moment it takes to click “like,” the why and how of that hold are complicated and mysterious enough to become interesting in themselves. In other words, there’s a lot you don’t know about what you’re seeing when you see a painting online, and that sense of unknowing—of mystery—can become part of the truth of the experience.
One artist I’ve been following online for a few years is Christina Quarles. I know more about her than I do about many of the other artists whose work catches my eye on Instagram, because she’s quickly become well-known: Her art has evidently caught the eye of quite a few people. Since graduating from Yale’s MFA program in 2016, she’s exhibited widely, not only in Los Angeles, where she now lives, but as far afield as Shanghai and London; an exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art in her hometown, Chicago, should have opened in April, but was postponed until next year. Her exhibitions (not only in prominent galleries but in museums such as the Hepworth Wakefield in West Yorkshire, England, and the Berkeley Art Museum & Pacific Film Archive) have been widely covered in the press, especially in the United Kingdom. She has not yet had a solo show in New York, so I’ve never seen anything of hers in person. Popular "swipe left below to view more authors"Swipe → The Evisceration of a Public University The Evisceration of a Public University Lisa M. Corrigan The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks Chris Lehmann “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash Dave Zirin A Grim Chronicle of Trump’s Corrupt Public Life A Grim Chronicle of Trump’s Corrupt Public Life Chris Lehmann Popular "swipe left below to view more authors"Swipe → The Evisceration of a Public University The Evisceration of a Public University Lisa M. Corrigan The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks Chris Lehmann “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash Dave Zirin A Grim Chronicle of Trump’s Corrupt Public Life A Grim Chronicle of Trump’s Corrupt Public Life Chris Lehmann
Quarles’s style could be called a kind of twisted figuration—unless it’s quite the opposite, a form of abstraction pushed against its inclination to become figurative. It seems to reflect a half-dystopian, half-hedonistic intuition that the body’s plasticity might be far more radical than everyday experience suggests. One can see her work as part of a tradition that encompasses Francis Bacon’s desire to create figures that might be, as he once said, “made out of something, which is completely irrational from the point of view of being an illustration,” or of André Masson’s automatist paintings with their metamorphizing of animal/human forms, but there is a distinctly contemporary cool to her interpretation of this figurative legacy, which could just as easily be compared to the way certain electronic music producers compose their pieces out of cut-up bits of other songs that feel familiar, though, because they’ve been slowed down or sped up, you can’t quite recognize them. And because I know from what I’ve read about Quarles that she identifies as biracial and queer, I can understand that her impulse to reinvent the image of the body might have a political dimension.
On May 22, Quarles posted a new painting, made in quarantine, titled Behold! And Be Held Beside Me. It shows a blurry-faced, purplish-hued figure lying prone, knees up, in a field of flowers. The figure, of indeterminate gender, has weirdly twisted legs and long, long, rubbery arms hanging down in front of a white picket fence. Behind we glimpse three heads and a pair of arms hugging. Are they the dream of the apparently sleeping figure in the foreground? Sweetness and grotesquerie coexist in the imagery but also in Quarles’s almost too rich palette. The hues of the heads and bodies, as well as of the flowers, seem to blur translucently into one another like watercolor, while those of the background landscape—earth and foliage simplified into a sequence of curving reddish-brown and green stripes with a strip of blue at the top—and the white fence in front are opaque, their forms more crisply defined. The white, I can tell even from the digital image, is textured, perhaps slightly impastoed. Are the other colors painted as thinly and smoothly as they look to me, or if I could see the work in person, would they have a similar tactility? My longing to see the painting closely is both an element in the ambivalent pleasure I nonetheless derive from its bodiless image and a kind of promise that the real painting has something more to offer—that it does not just picture a body but somehow is a body, that it does not exist merely for the sake of the image it bears.
Another Los Angeles–based painter I’ve been following, though not as long, is Andrea Marie Breiling. Since getting her MFA from the Claremont Graduate University in 2014, she’s shown mostly with LA galleries, but also with one in Düsseldorf, Germany. But there’s not much information on her in circulation—no interviews or articles that I can find, just a brief quote on the Facebook page of a gallery where she was in a group show: “I work abstractly so it’s about composition and color and you have to think about it like mathematics. But when I’m finished with the work I want it to become a memorial for a time or place. It’s a moment of meditation to create something using color and materials .” I don’t even know when she was born, though I know that it happened in Phoenix.
The first paintings of Breiling’s that I noticed, probably around 2018, seemed to derive from a European approach to abstraction. I thought, for instance, of the Danish artist Per Kirkeby or of the later work of Günther Förg in Germany—a kind of roughed-up painterliness, with conglomerations of vibrantly colored brush marks refusing to meld into distinct forms but retaining their separate identities against a ground of bare canvas. Despite her professedly mathematical approach to structure, Breiling’s touch communicates urgency. The paintings attracted me, but only more recently did they begin to fascinate me, when I noticed a change in their character. The new works feature a different kind of mark making, less scruffy and agitated and less likely to gravitate together into dense clumps. Now the paintings are dominated by more extended linear gestures, often in concentric, diamond-like formations counterpoised to an armature of central horizontal and vertical lines—all this in a combination of thickly painted strokes and what appears to be spray paint. Even more of the canvas has been left unpainted; the colors are brighter, clearer; all in all, there is a sense of lightness and speed new to the artist’s work. A clear, simple structure allows for great freedom, a sense of “everything goes,” and it’s wonderfully exhilarating.
So exhilarating is the feeling I get from Breiling’s work, even just on the screen, that when I began to think about writing this essay and sorting through my ideas about which artists to include, she was the first one I thought of. But using social media as a repository of memories has its drawbacks: When I went to her profile to take another look at the images that had made such an impression on me, they were all gone. She’d removed everything except images related to Black Lives Matter. So I wrote to ask her to send me some images to mull over. Now we’re in touch—I’ve never had any direct contact with the other artists I’m discussing here—and so the potential transiency of digital images has turned from a drawback into an opportunity to learn more. But even at secondhand, as seen through my phone, Breiling’s art shows a radiance and vitality that speaks for itself; it tells me there’s something there, even if I can’t quite make out, at this distance, what it is.
It’s only been this year that I’ve noticed the work of Maja Ruznic. She was born in Bosnia and Herzegovina in 1983. After civil war broke out nine years later, she and her mother spent three years moving through various refugee camps before landing in the United States. In 2009 she received an MFA from the California College of the Arts in San Francisco, and she now lives in Roswell, N.M. Since 2012 she’s had solo shows at small galleries in Stockholm, Los Angeles, and Sarajevo, among other places, but most often in Dallas. And she seems to be on the verge of becoming still better known, as her online bio includes upcoming shows with dates still to be determined—presumably delayed because of the Covid-19 pandemic—at prominent galleries in London and New York. And it’s not only about art that I learn from Instagram: I can also see that since I started working on this article, Ruznic has become a mother.
Ruznic’s paintings are pretty hard to “read” online, and yet their unfathomability is part of what drew me to them: There’s a dreamy, quasi-Symbolist vibe to her figurative compositions, through which diaphanous personae float. To quote a poem by Charles Simic from which she drew the title of “My Noiseless Entourage,” her exhibition earlier this year at the Conduit Gallery in Dallas, her work is “like a discreet entourage / Of homegrown angels and demons / All of whom I had met before / And had since largely forgotten .” I’d be most curious to see the surfaces of these paintings up close: From what I can tell from the jpegs, the pigment seems rubbed into the canvas in sparse quantities, but some passages look quite dry and powdery and others more fluid, almost molten. Figures melt into each other and into the space they inhabit. The boundaries between forms are permeable, uncertain. So are the narratives in mind for her paintings. Instead the accent, or perhaps the narrative she wants to put across, is on the idea that there are goings-on in the world that are inaccessible to a purely empirical perception—soul events, you might say.
If that kind of language sets off alarms, I understand. This work might be hovering on the edge of being too fey for its own good. Are the paintings stuck in a nebulous dreamworld? It’s precisely their ambiguity that reassures me that if I could see them in person, I’d find them convincing. It seems that these unspoken spectacles derive more from Ruznic’s exploration of her materials than from a predetermination to put a certain message across, and that very fact, paradoxically, means that there is a fundamental physical reality, accessible to touch and vision, underwriting whatever spiritual message I imagine being communicated. The artist is not pretending to know more than she really can know. On Instagram, Ruznic posts close-up details more often than entire paintings, as if to emphasize that the work’s truth is in its materiality—and that every painting contains within itself a multitude of possible paintings.
Seemingly at an opposite pole from Ruznic’s tenuous phantasmatic visions is the often ferocious, sometimes grotesque pictorial imagination of Peter Williams. He’s an artist that I didn’t discover via social media—though I follow him now on Instagram—but in a more old-fashioned way: I saw a painting of his, earlier this year, reproduced on a book’s cover. The book is a new novel by one of my very favorite writers, Lynn Crawford’s Paula Regossy, but the cover image so fascinated me that I almost had to force myself to move past it to the book’s interior. The painting, in what I’d call an almost aggressively fruity palette, seemed to be a sort of abstract equivalent to an M.C. Escher image, endlessly twisting itself around itself in some impossible way. It was precisely this sense of impossibility, and of a kind of self-enclosed endlessness, that sent my brain into overdrive and that also—once I finally forced myself to get past the cover to read the book itself—seemed a perfect complement for Crawford’s simultaneously blunt and evasive mix of fantasy and realism, much influenced by the structural gamesmanship of the French OuLiPo group. The name of Crawford’s protagonist turns out to be an anagram of the name of the James Bond character that Williams used as the title of his painting: Pussy Galore. Paula Regossy is a spy story too, but of a very different kind from Ian Fleming’s.
What I know about Williams from searching on the Internet is that he is an African American in his late 60s, living in Wilmington, Del., where he teaches at a state university. He has a substantial national exhibition history, including several shows in New York that I somehow missed—the most recent at the Cue Art Foundation in 2018. More typical of Williams’s work than Pussy Galore are figurative paintings that I see in the lineage of Peter Saul and Robert Colescott going back to, maybe, James Ensor and Otto Dix—painters ruthless in their use of humor, exaggeration, and even vulgarity to skewer the wrongs and follies of society. The disruptive energy of Williams’s art is probably best encapsulated by the title of his current exhibition (through October 10) at Paul Kotula Projects in Ferndale, Mich., in the Detroit metropolitan area: “Peter Williams: Mass Murder .”
View this post on Instagram The ascention of St. George Floyd A post shared by peter williams (@peterwilliams7943) on Jul 10, 2020 at 6:37am PDT
The one thing Williams’s figurative paintings share with his abstractions is their intense, assertive, joyously inharmonious color. The compositions are crowded and raucous and sometimes feature a Black everyman figure who is both protagonist and witness: a worried-looking superhero dressed in an orange uniform emblazoned with a big “N” above “WORD” in smaller print. Perhaps not surprisingly, among the newest pieces I’ve seen on Williams’s Instagram feed are two captioned The arrest of George Floyd, posted June 12, and The ascention of St. George Floyd posted July 10. There’s no superhero in sight in these paintings. In The arrest, the central figure is trapped within a kind of abstract geometrical structure (not so distant from something one might see in one of Williams’s abstract works), where he is held in place by a plethora of white hands grabbing at his legs, torso, arms, and head, although those hands seem to have no reality except when they have their grip on him. At the lower edges of the painting are a pair of inset heads—black on the left, white on the right—both apparently behind prison bars. Around these heads are inscriptions pointing to millions of guilty whites, millions of imprisoned blacks. In The ascention, wearing a halo that seems to double as a space helmet, he appears to be taking off, arms stretched out like a dancer’s and with just one foot still on this blue planet, into a solar realm where the angels (or possibly ancestors) are prepared to receive him. One online interlocutor gave a thumbs-up to “All those angels,” and the artist responded, “I hope, could be some white debil’s [sic].” There is a terrible tenderness to this painting, and maybe it has to do with that apprehension that oppression might continue even in the beyond.
There’s good reason to maintain some doubt about what you’re really seeing when you see a painting onscreen and to be suspicious of art that’s easily consumed in that mode. It might easily be what the critic Rob Colvin dismissed a few years ago as “Like Art ”: that is, “art that looks very much like art you’ve already seen, that you know very well, and that you already like” and is momentarily pleasing—gets a lot of “likes”—for just that reason. But just as when you see it on the wall in a gallery, a painting that raises more questions than it answers online might well have staying power. Williams’s paintings are anything but easygoing or ingratiating. I’m hoping to commune with them in person—and the same goes for the work of Quarles, Breiling, and Ruznic—if ever fate allows it.


thenation--2020-08-04--Violence Is Donald Trump’s Mother Tongue

Teargas , shock grenades , lasers , commercial-grade fireworks .
Gunshots , broken storefronts , cars accelerating into crowds , fires set , soldiers in camo swinging batons with abandon : sights and sounds—tragically real—appropriated and accentuated in the latest episodes of the Trump show .
President Trump needs these symbols of lawlessness and disorder because he wants to present himself as the candidate of “ LAW AND ORDER !
” —his tweet echoing the title of the popular television show .
The president tweets of anarchists , looters , and violent gangs and , as July comes to a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Federal Government and its brilliant Law Enforcement ( Homeland ) didn ’ t go into Portland one week ago , there would be no Portland—It would be burned and beaten to the ground.
” Burned and beaten , as if burned to the ground were not enough .
“ Burned and beaten ” rolls naturally off the tongue of Donald Trump , who has always relished violence—usually the carnival type of professional wrestling or the mobster sort as in “ guys who know how to get the job done ” without letting @ @ @ @ @ @ @ coward and a germophobe , Trump isn ’ t known for mixing it up himself , but he is known for stirring up animosities until they erupt into intense disputes with physical consequences .
A climate of fierce intensity is easily transformed into a climate of fear , and this president has a gift for leveraging the fears of others to his own benefit .
At the beginning of his presidency , he famously announced that he was the only one who could save a frightened country from carnage .
As he nears @ @ @ @ @ @ @ doubles down .
This summer ’ s ad features an older woman facing a home invasion and being put on hold when dialing 911 : “ For rape , please press 1.
” Another surge of ads creates an image of urban mayhem : “ Dangerous MOBS of far-left groups are running through our streets and causing absolute mayhem… .
They are DESTROYING our cities and rioting.
” The destroying and rioting spectacle attracts attention away from everything else .
The situation around Portland ’ s federal courthouse was far from ideal a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the city dealt with protests and property destruction night after night .
But the president needed to make it a bigger , more spectacular problem , and by sending in agents from Homeland Security he created the spectacle that would draw the public ’ s attention away from its focus on the pandemic .
Nor was his threat to send federal police in full combat regalia to other cities just idle posturing .
It was Trump ’ s cynical attempt to promote a response in the streets that in the end might actually @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are afraid of getting sick , they look for an expert with credible knowledge .
This , the president can ’ t provide .
But if they are afraid of violence , they might turn to an authoritarian leader unafraid to use the power of the state to create law and order .
Fear and distraction are two of the reasons for the “ Trump and Violence ” show .
A third is that violence removes the need for articulate expression .
This president has more difficulty expressing himself clearly than any American @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and his critics sometimes ridicule his verbal buffoonery .
Too often , though , they ’ re missing the point .
Usually , Trump isn ’ t trying to articulate an argument ; he is trying to get audiences to react to what he says .
And he is good at it .
The chants , name-calling , and mockery rile up rallies of the faithful .
He uses speech to incite intense responses—of rage , of resentment , sometimes of laughter .
He provokes but does not explain ; he attacks but @ @ @ @ @ @ @ linked to learning , and this is anathema to the president , a man who privileges instinct over education .
Articulate speech has traditionally been at the heart of the political realm because through speaking with and listening to one ’ s fellow citizens , one can discover public purpose .
This kind of speech and listening , discussion and discovery demands both sensitive attention and open-ended inquiry .
For Trump , these are all elements of a foreign language .
The president ’ s mother tongue is violence—the opposite of composed , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is meant to fire up his base with longing for a protector .
The spectacle of violence is meant to turn people away from the march of a disease that has affected millions of Americans—a march that still has elicited no coordinated response from the federal government .
Finally , Trump ’ s language of violence is offered as a distraction from his inability to articulate a vision for the country at a time of moral reckoning , economic disruption , and international instability .
Instigating more violence , though , will only @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s reelection prospects ) worse .
One can only hope protesters don ’ t take the bait .
Violence in city streets is a danger to citizens and law enforcement there .
The “ Trump and Violence ” show is a danger to the entire country .

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Teargas, shock grenades, lasers, commercial-grade fireworks. Gunshots, broken storefronts, cars accelerating into crowds, fires set, soldiers in camo swinging batons with abandon: sights and sounds—tragically real—appropriated and accentuated in the latest episodes of the Trump show. President Trump needs these symbols of lawlessness and disorder because he wants to present himself as the candidate of “LAW AND ORDER!”—his tweet echoing the title of the popular television show. The president tweets of anarchists, looters, and violent gangs and, as July comes to a close, he writes, “If the Federal Government and its brilliant Law Enforcement (Homeland) didn’t go into Portland one week ago, there would be no Portland—It would be burned and beaten to the ground.” Burned and beaten, as if burned to the ground were not enough.
“Burned and beaten” rolls naturally off the tongue of Donald Trump, who has always relished violence—usually the carnival type of professional wrestling or the mobster sort as in “guys who know how to get the job done” without letting niceties stand in the way. A coward and a germophobe, Trump isn’t known for mixing it up himself, but he is known for stirring up animosities until they erupt into intense disputes with physical consequences. A climate of fierce intensity is easily transformed into a climate of fear, and this president has a gift for leveraging the fears of others to his own benefit. At the beginning of his presidency, he famously announced that he was the only one who could save a frightened country from carnage. As he nears the end of his term, he doubles down. This summer’s ad features an older woman facing a home invasion and being put on hold when dialing 911: “For rape, please press 1.” Another surge of ads creates an image of urban mayhem: “Dangerous MOBS of far-left groups are running through our streets and causing absolute mayhem…. They are DESTROYING our cities and rioting.”
The destroying and rioting spectacle attracts attention away from everything else. The situation around Portland’s federal courthouse was far from ideal a few weeks ago, as parts of the city dealt with protests and property destruction night after night. But the president needed to make it a bigger, more spectacular problem, and by sending in agents from Homeland Security he created the spectacle that would draw the public’s attention away from its focus on the pandemic. Nor was his threat to send federal police in full combat regalia to other cities just idle posturing. It was Trump’s cynical attempt to promote a response in the streets that in the end might actually require law enforcement action. If people are afraid of getting sick, they look for an expert with credible knowledge. This, the president can’t provide. But if they are afraid of violence, they might turn to an authoritarian leader unafraid to use the power of the state to create law and order.
Fear and distraction are two of the reasons for the “Trump and Violence” show. A third is that violence removes the need for articulate expression. This president has more difficulty expressing himself clearly than any American leader in the last hundred years, and his critics sometimes ridicule his verbal buffoonery. Too often, though, they’re missing the point. Usually, Trump isn’t trying to articulate an argument; he is trying to get audiences to react to what he says. And he is good at it. The chants, name-calling, and mockery rile up rallies of the faithful. He uses speech to incite intense responses—of rage, of resentment, sometimes of laughter. He provokes but does not explain; he attacks but does not console. Articulate speech is linked to learning, and this is anathema to the president, a man who privileges instinct over education. Articulate speech has traditionally been at the heart of the political realm because through speaking with and listening to one’s fellow citizens, one can discover public purpose. This kind of speech and listening, discussion and discovery demands both sensitive attention and open-ended inquiry. For Trump, these are all elements of a foreign language.
The president’s mother tongue is violence—the opposite of composed, thoughtful speech. The fear he promulgates is meant to fire up his base with longing for a protector. The spectacle of violence is meant to turn people away from the march of a disease that has affected millions of Americans—a march that still has elicited no coordinated response from the federal government. Finally, Trump’s language of violence is offered as a distraction from his inability to articulate a vision for the country at a time of moral reckoning, economic disruption, and international instability.
Instigating more violence, though, will only make everything (apart from Trump’s reelection prospects) worse. One can only hope protesters don’t take the bait. Violence in city streets is a danger to citizens and law enforcement there. The “Trump and Violence” show is a danger to the entire country.


thenation--2020-08-04--Government Accountability Has Been Long Gone in the US

Whether you consider the appalling death toll or the equally unacceptable rising numbers of Covid-19 cases , the United States has one of the worst records worldwide when it comes to the pandemic .
Nevertheless , the president has continued to behave just as he promised he would in March when there had been only 40 deaths from the virus here and he said , “ I don ’ t take responsibility at all.
” In April , when 50,000 Americans had died , he praised himself and his administration , insisting , “ I think we ’ ve done @ @ @ @ @ @ @ as deaths continued to mount nationwide , he insisted , “ We have met the moment and we have prevailed.
” In June , he swore the virus was “ dying out , ” contradicting the views and data of his just-swept-into-the-closet coronavirus task force .
In July , he cast the blame for the ongoing disaster on state governors , who , he told the nation , had handled the virus “ poorly , ” adding , “ I supplied everybody.
” It was the governors , he assured the public , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ key supplies , including protective gear and testing supplies .
All told , he ’ s been a perfect model in deflecting all responsibility , even as the death toll soared over 150,000 with more than four million cases reported nationwide and no end in sight , even as he assured the coronavirus of a splendid future in the United States by insisting that all schools reopen this fall ( and that the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention back him on that ) .
In other words , Donald Trump and his @ @ @ @ @ @ @ new meaning in America .
Their refusal to accept the slightest responsibility for Covid-19 ’ s rampage through this country may seem startling ( or simply like our new reality ) in a land that has traditionally defined itself as dedicated to democratic governance , and the rule of law .
It has long seen itself as committed to transparency and justice , through investigations , reports , and checks and balances , notably via the courts and Congress , designed to ensure that its politicians and officials be held responsible for their @ @ @ @ @ @ @ also the essence of accountability , something whose results Donald Trump recently tried to throw into doubt when it comes to the contest this November .
Still , the loss of accountability isn ’ t simply a phenomenon of the Trump years .
Its erosion has been coming for a long time at what , in retrospect , should seem an alarmingly inexorable pace .
In August 2020 , it should be obvious that America , a still titanic ( if fading ) power , has largely thrown accountability overboard .
With that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ little history of how it happened .
As contemporary historians and political analysts tell it , the decision to go to war in Iraq in the spring of 2003 , which cost more than 8,000 American lives and led to more than 200,000 Iraqi deaths , military and civilian , was more than avoidable .
It was the result of lies and doctored information engineered to get the United States involved in a crucial part of what would soon enough become its “ forever wars ” across the Greater Middle East and Africa @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , those in the administration of President George W. Bush who contested information about the presence of weapons of mass destruction in Saddam Hussein ’ s Iraq were ignored or silenced .
Worse yet , torture was used to extract a false confession from senior Al Qaeda member Ibn Sheikh al-Libi regarding the terror organization ’ s supposed attempts to acquire such weaponry there .
Al-Libi ’ s testimony , later recanted , was used as yet another pretext to launch an invasion that top American officials had long been determined to set @ @ @ @ @ @ @ t just a deceitful decision .
It was a thoroughly disastrous one as well .
There is today something like a consensus among policy analysts that it was possibly the “ biggest mistake in American military history ” or , as former Senate majority leader Harry Reid ( D-Nev. ) put it four years after the invasion , “ the worst foreign policy mistake in U.S. history , ” supplanting the Vietnam War in the minds of many .
And that raises an obvious question : Who was held accountable for that still @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the crime of willfully and intentionally taking the nation to war—and a failed war at that—based on manufactured facts ?
In numerous books , the grim realities of that moment have been laid out clearly .
When it comes to any kind of public censure , or trial , or even an official statement of wrongdoing , none was ever forthcoming .
Nor was there any accountability for the policy and practice of torture , “ legally ” sanctioned then , that took the country back to practices more common in the Middle @ @ @ @ @ @ @ noting as well that John Yoo , who wrote the memos authorizing such torture then , is now helping the Trump administration find ways to continue evading checks on the presidency . )
More than a decade ago at TomDispatch , I wrote about how the Bush administration supported such acts at the highest levels .
As a result , in the early years of the war on terror , in 20 CIA “ black sites , ” located in eight countries , the US government used torture , as a Senate Select @ @ @ @ @ @ @ detail , to elicit information and misinformation from dozens of “ high-value detainees.
” It should go without saying that torture violates just about every precept of the modern rule of law : the renunciation of adjudication in favor of brutality , the use of dungeon-like chambers and medieval equipment rather than the expertise of intelligence professionals gathering information , and of course the rejection of any conviction that civility and rights are valuable .
Among his first acts on entering the Oval Office , Barack Obama pledged that the United States under @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Nonetheless , the lawyers who wrote the memos legally approving those policies were never held accountable , nor were the Bush administration officials who signed off on them ( and had such techniques demonstrated to them in the White House ) ; nor , of course , were the actual torturers and the doctors who advised them in any way censured or criminally charged in American courts .
Indeed , many of their careers only advanced as they took jobs like a federal judge , a professor at a prestigious law school , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for leveling criminal charges or holding congressional hearings and investigations were raised , the Obama administration decided not to proceed .
Attorney General Eric Holder claimed that “ the admissible evidence would not be sufficient to obtain and sustain a conviction beyond a reasonable doubt , ” while President Obama insisted that the administration should “ look forward as opposed to looking backwards.
” Accountability was once again abandoned .
And looming over the war on terror , the invasion of Iraq , and those torture policies was a refusal to hold any @ @ @ @ @ @ @ all responsible for failing to stop 9/11 from happening in the first place .
The 9/11 Commission Report might have been an initial step in that process , but as journalist Philip Shenon put it in his book The Commission : The Uncensored History of the 9/11 Investigation , the report “ skirt [ ed ] judgements about people who almost certainly had some blame for failing to prevent September 11.
” It wasn ’ t only in relation to the war on terror that accountability vanished .
The government responded to the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to avoid it .
At that time , the men who ran the nation ’ s largest banks had played upon the greed of investors to leverage mortgage investments until , lacking government bailouts , their companies would have gone under .
In response , both the Bush and Obama administrations bandaged the losses with federal funds .
Yet when it came to a classic dive into irresponsible and even illegal financial behavior , they offered stern warnings and nothing else .
Accountability had been similarly elusive for corporate crimes for decades .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ Exxon Valdez oil spill that covered 1,300 miles of Alaskan coastline with oil , while killing thousands of birds , otters , seals , and whales .
Lawsuits brought by that state did result in payments of more than $ 1 billion after the federal government indicted ExxonMobil for violating the Clean Water Act .
However , only the captain of the ship , whom many experts felt had been scapegoated , was convicted of a criminal offense .
A separate lawsuit filed on behalf of local fishermen , native Alaskans , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ post-9/11 era of unaccountability , the penalties that had been leveled against the oil company were reconsidered .
In 2008 , the Supreme Court reduced a $ 5 billion punitive damages award by 89 percent , to $ 507.5 million dollars .
And in 2017 , in the early months of the Trump administration , 26 years of litigation came to an abrupt end when a federal court in Alaska decided not to pursue a final ExxonMobil payment of $ 100 million for damages from the spill .
As it turns out , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ not just a matter of the law but of politics , as the Mueller investigation of Russian interference in the presidential election of 2016 highlighted .
No matter how much information Mueller and his team collected demonstrating violations of both law and policy in future president Donald Trump ’ s dealings with Russia , or how much information a series of career diplomats and national security officials provided on his quid pro quo approach to Ukrainian officials , escaping blame , not to mention impeachment , has proven all too easy for the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the nation , misrepresenting the essence of the Mueller report , the investigation “ did not find that the Trump campaign or anyone associated with it conspired or coordinated with Russia in its efforts to influence the 2016 US presidential election.
” More accurately , the report concluded that the evidence “ does not exonerate ” the president .
Subsequently , nine individuals , seven of them members of the Trump team , were found guilty and 13 Russian nationals and three Russian companies were indicted ( though charges against two of the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s Department of Justice ) .
And while five of those convicted went to jail , Trump commuted the sentence of his close associate Roger Stone .
Meanwhile , the prosecution of his first national security adviser , Michael Flynn , is still in turmoil after the Department of Justice directed and a federal appeals court ordered the case to be dropped .
As the Flynn episode demonstrates , even when individuals were held accountable , the president and his administration have , in essence , refused to accept the judgments of the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ mechanisms for shining a light on government wrongdoing are being systematically undermined and abolished .
In that spirit , in April and May at the behest of the president , numerous inspectors general , tasked by law with investigating and reporting on wrongdoing in their agencies , were fired , including those for the State Department and the Intelligence Community , as well as the acting inspectors general for the departments of Defense , Health and Human Services , and Transportation .
In the age of Trump we ’ re reaching the end @ @ @ @ @ @ @ accountability in the halls of government .
Increasingly , it ’ s no longer an American concept .
It hasn ’ t always been this way .
In the past , when government policy or the officials making it have gone rogue , broken the law , and conspired against the basic tenets of American democracy , they have , at times , paid the price .
Nearly a century ago , for instance , President Warren Harding ’ s secretary of the interior , Albert Fall , went to prison for accepting @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Dome Scandal .
In fact , the list of former government officials who have been convicted and served time in jail is long .
Fifty years later , in the Watergate scandal of Richard Nixon ’ s presidency , 69 individuals , including several top government officials , were indicted and 48 of them found guilty of burglarizing documents from and wiretapping Democratic Party headquarters , among other things .
The trail of illegality and cover-up went right up to the office of the president , ending in impeachment proceedings , which led @ @ @ @ @ @ @ years of Ronald Reagan ’ s presidency , misuse of power was punished as well .
Fourteen people in or close to his administration were convicted for their participation in the Iran/Contra scandal in which the government secretly sold weapons to Iran , an act proscribed by law , with plans to use the funds from those sales to support American-backed Contra rebels in Nicaragua ( also in violation of US law ) .
True , of the 14 charged and 11 convicted , only one actually served his sentence in prison .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ testament to a public acknowledgement of governmental wrongdoing .
Perhaps the saddest part of all is that the Trump administration has not just refused to take responsibility for anything whatsoever , but has blamed others , even those on the front lines of pandemic defense , for things that it did .
Since Covid-19 struck American shores and the president and his officials failed to respond , resulting in a catastrophically high—and climbing—death toll , accountability has been harnessed to political whims in a new way .
The president has , for instance @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was dismantled by Trump ’ s own national security adviser John Bolton .
Until recently , President Trump refused to wear a mask in public and insisted—until belatedly canceling the Republican National Convention in Jacksonville , Fla. , still rife with the pandemic—on holding a maskless , unsocial-distanced indoor rally in Tulsa despite overwhelming evidence that indoor transmission is the predominant means by which Covid-19 spreads .
In doing so , he also encouraged irresponsible behavior at a local level , while supporting governors ready to imprudently reopen their state economies far too @ @ @ @ @ @ @ an explosion of new cases .
It ’ s possible that this abdication of leadership , leading to a disastrously rising death rate , will , in the end , help Americans turn the corner from unaccountability to accountability—and not just for the disastrous Covid-19 response .
Recent street protests from Portland to Manhattan , Chicago to Kansas City , are a sign that accountability is long overdue , not just for the current era , but for this century of American life .
In March , journalist Peter Bergen was the first @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to investigate the government ’ s response to the coronavirus , “ if only to make sure the nation is prepared for the next pandemic.
” Recently , Democratic Senator Dianne Feinstein and Democratic Representative Adam Schiff , both from California , also proposed a Covid-19 Commission “ not as a political exercise to cast blame , but to learn from our mistakes so we can prevent the problems we now face from being tragically repeated.… An honest analysis is the only way to adequately prepare for the next novel virus or another @ @ @ @ @ @ @ thing is imaginable until Donald Trump is out of office and the Senate in Democratic hands , which does look possible .
In the meantime , in its own deadly fashion , the pandemic crisis may actually help turn the tide and bring accountability back to American shores .
If more than 150,000 deaths , countless numbers of them preventable , don ’ t offer a compelling reason to hold our public officials responsible , then what would ?
Whatever the punishments , however symbolic or cosmetic , crimes of this sort need @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and those who carried them out officially identified and held to account .
This has nothing to do with retribution .
It is not about exacting punishment .
It ’ s about shining a beam of light on deeds that have been harmful beyond imagination and must never be repeated .
We as a nation need to remind ourselves of what morality , justice , and the responsible use of power can mean .
The country has to be given a chance to restore its long-faded commitment to accountable government .
And perhaps @ @ @ @ @ @ @ : that this may prove to be our last chance .

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Whether you consider the appalling death toll or the equally unacceptable rising numbers of Covid-19 cases, the United States has one of the worst records worldwide when it comes to the pandemic. Nevertheless, the president has continued to behave just as he promised he would in March when there had been only 40 deaths from the virus here and he said, “I don’t take responsibility at all.”
In April, when 50,000 Americans had died, he praised himself and his administration, insisting, “I think we’ve done a great job.” In May, as deaths continued to mount nationwide, he insisted, “We have met the moment and we have prevailed.” In June, he swore the virus was “dying out,” contradicting the views and data of his just-swept-into-the-closet coronavirus task force. In July, he cast the blame for the ongoing disaster on state governors, who, he told the nation, had handled the virus “poorly,” adding, “I supplied everybody.” It was the governors, he assured the public, who had failed to acquire and distribute key supplies, including protective gear and testing supplies.
All told, he’s been a perfect model in deflecting all responsibility, even as the death toll soared over 150,000 with more than four million cases reported nationwide and no end in sight, even as he assured the coronavirus of a splendid future in the United States by insisting that all schools reopen this fall (and that the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention back him on that). Popular "swipe left below to view more authors"Swipe → The Evisceration of a Public University The Evisceration of a Public University Lisa M. Corrigan The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks Chris Lehmann “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash Dave Zirin A Grim Chronicle of Trump’s Corrupt Public Life A Grim Chronicle of Trump’s Corrupt Public Life Chris Lehmann Popular "swipe left below to view more authors"Swipe → The Evisceration of a Public University The Evisceration of a Public University Lisa M. Corrigan The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks Chris Lehmann “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash Dave Zirin A Grim Chronicle of Trump’s Corrupt Public Life A Grim Chronicle of Trump’s Corrupt Public Life Chris Lehmann
In other words, Donald Trump and his team have given lack of accountability a new meaning in America. Their refusal to accept the slightest responsibility for Covid-19’s rampage through this country may seem startling (or simply like our new reality) in a land that has traditionally defined itself as dedicated to democratic governance, and the rule of law. It has long seen itself as committed to transparency and justice, through investigations, reports, and checks and balances, notably via the courts and Congress, designed to ensure that its politicians and officials be held responsible for their actions. The essence of democracy—the election—was also the essence of accountability, something whose results Donald Trump recently tried to throw into doubt when it comes to the contest this November.
Still, the loss of accountability isn’t simply a phenomenon of the Trump years. Its erosion has been coming for a long time at what, in retrospect, should seem an alarmingly inexorable pace.
In August 2020, it should be obvious that America, a still titanic (if fading) power, has largely thrown accountability overboard. With that in mind, here’s a little history of how it happened.
The War on Terror
As contemporary historians and political analysts tell it, the decision to go to war in Iraq in the spring of 2003, which cost more than 8,000 American lives and led to more than 200,000 Iraqi deaths, military and civilian, was more than avoidable. It was the result of lies and doctored information engineered to get the United States involved in a crucial part of what would soon enough become its “forever wars” across the Greater Middle East and Africa. Current Issue View our current issue
As Robert Draper recently reminded us, those in the administration of President George W. Bush who contested information about the presence of weapons of mass destruction in Saddam Hussein’s Iraq were ignored or silenced. Worse yet, torture was used to extract a false confession from senior Al Qaeda member Ibn Sheikh al-Libi regarding the terror organization’s supposed attempts to acquire such weaponry there. Al-Libi’s testimony, later recanted, was used as yet another pretext to launch an invasion that top American officials had long been determined to set in motion.
And it wasn’t just a deceitful decision. It was a thoroughly disastrous one as well. There is today something like a consensus among policy analysts that it was possibly the “biggest mistake in American military history” or, as former Senate majority leader Harry Reid (D-Nev.) put it four years after the invasion, “the worst foreign policy mistake in U.S. history,” supplanting the Vietnam War in the minds of many.
And that raises an obvious question: Who was held accountable for that still unending disaster? Who was charged with the crime of willfully and intentionally taking the nation to war—and a failed war at that—based on manufactured facts? In numerous books, the grim realities of that moment have been laid out clearly. When it comes to any kind of public censure, or trial, or even an official statement of wrongdoing, none was ever forthcoming.
Nor was there any accountability for the policy and practice of torture, “legally” sanctioned then, that took the country back to practices more common in the Middle Ages. (It’s worth noting as well that John Yoo, who wrote the memos authorizing such torture then, is now helping the Trump administration find ways to continue evading checks on the presidency.)
More than a decade ago at TomDispatch, I wrote about how the Bush administration supported such acts at the highest levels. As a result, in the early years of the war on terror, in 20 CIA “black sites,” located in eight countries, the US government used torture, as a Senate Select Intelligence Committee Report of December 2014 would detail, to elicit information and misinformation from dozens of “high-value detainees.”
It should go without saying that torture violates just about every precept of the modern rule of law: the renunciation of adjudication in favor of brutality, the use of dungeon-like chambers and medieval equipment rather than the expertise of intelligence professionals gathering information, and of course the rejection of any conviction that civility and rights are valuable.
Among his first acts on entering the Oval Office, Barack Obama pledged that the United States under his leadership would “not torture.” Nonetheless, the lawyers who wrote the memos legally approving those policies were never held accountable, nor were the Bush administration officials who signed off on them (and had such techniques demonstrated to them in the White House); nor, of course, were the actual torturers and the doctors who advised them in any way censured or criminally charged in American courts.
Indeed, many of their careers only advanced as they took jobs like a federal judge, a professor at a prestigious law school, or a well-remunerated author. When suggestions for leveling criminal charges or holding congressional hearings and investigations were raised, the Obama administration decided not to proceed. Attorney General Eric Holder claimed that “the admissible evidence would not be sufficient to obtain and sustain a conviction beyond a reasonable doubt,” while President Obama insisted that the administration should “look forward as opposed to looking backwards.” Accountability was once again abandoned.
And looming over the war on terror, the invasion of Iraq, and those torture policies was a refusal to hold any agency, administration, or anyone at all responsible for failing to stop 9/11 from happening in the first place. The 9/11 Commission Report might have been an initial step in that process, but as journalist Philip Shenon put it in his book The Commission: The Uncensored History of the 9/11 Investigation, the report “skirt[ed] judgements about people who almost certainly had some blame for failing to prevent September 11.”
Evasion Elsewhere
It wasn’t only in relation to the war on terror that accountability vanished. The government responded to the 2007-2008 banking crisis with a similar determination to avoid it. At that time, the men who ran the nation’s largest banks had played upon the greed of investors to leverage mortgage investments until, lacking government bailouts, their companies would have gone under. In response, both the Bush and Obama administrations bandaged the losses with federal funds. Yet when it came to a classic dive into irresponsible and even illegal financial behavior, they offered stern warnings and nothing else.
Accountability had been similarly elusive for corporate crimes for decades. Take, for instance, the 1989 Exxon Valdez oil spill that covered 1,300 miles of Alaskan coastline with oil, while killing thousands of birds, otters, seals, and whales. Lawsuits brought by that state did result in payments of more than $1 billion after the federal government indicted ExxonMobil for violating the Clean Water Act. However, only the captain of the ship, whom many experts felt had been scapegoated, was convicted of a criminal offense.
A separate lawsuit filed on behalf of local fishermen, native Alaskans, and landowners fared less well. In our post-9/11 era of unaccountability, the penalties that had been leveled against the oil company were reconsidered. In 2008, the Supreme Court reduced a $5 billion punitive damages award by 89 percent, to $507.5 million dollars. And in 2017, in the early months of the Trump administration, 26 years of litigation came to an abrupt end when a federal court in Alaska decided not to pursue a final ExxonMobil payment of $100 million for damages from the spill.
As it turns out, (lack of) accountability is increasingly not just a matter of the law but of politics, as the Mueller investigation of Russian interference in the presidential election of 2016 highlighted. No matter how much information Mueller and his team collected demonstrating violations of both law and policy in future president Donald Trump’s dealings with Russia, or how much information a series of career diplomats and national security officials provided on his quid pro quo approach to Ukrainian officials, escaping blame, not to mention impeachment, has proven all too easy for the president.
As Attorney General Barr told the nation, misrepresenting the essence of the Mueller report, the investigation “did not find that the Trump campaign or anyone associated with it conspired or coordinated with Russia in its efforts to influence the 2016 US presidential election.” More accurately, the report concluded that the evidence “does not exonerate” the president.
Subsequently, nine individuals, seven of them members of the Trump team, were found guilty and 13 Russian nationals and three Russian companies were indicted (though charges against two of the companies have been dropped by Barr’s Department of Justice). And while five of those convicted went to jail, Trump commuted the sentence of his close associate Roger Stone. Meanwhile, the prosecution of his first national security adviser, Michael Flynn, is still in turmoil after the Department of Justice directed and a federal appeals court ordered the case to be dropped. As the Flynn episode demonstrates, even when individuals were held accountable, the president and his administration have, in essence, refused to accept the judgments of the courts.
In other words, the mechanisms for shining a light on government wrongdoing are being systematically undermined and abolished. In that spirit, in April and May at the behest of the president, numerous inspectors general, tasked by law with investigating and reporting on wrongdoing in their agencies, were fired, including those for the State Department and the Intelligence Community, as well as the acting inspectors general for the departments of Defense, Health and Human Services, and Transportation.
In the age of Trump we’re reaching the end of the line when it comes to accountability in the halls of government. Increasingly, it’s no longer an American concept.
Once Upon a Time
It hasn’t always been this way. In the past, when government policy or the officials making it have gone rogue, broken the law, and conspired against the basic tenets of American democracy, they have, at times, paid the price. Nearly a century ago, for instance, President Warren Harding’s secretary of the interior, Albert Fall, went to prison for accepting bribes from oil companies in the Teapot Dome Scandal. In fact, the list of former government officials who have been convicted and served time in jail is long.
Fifty years later, in the Watergate scandal of Richard Nixon’s presidency, 69 individuals, including several top government officials, were indicted and 48 of them found guilty of burglarizing documents from and wiretapping Democratic Party headquarters, among other things. The trail of illegality and cover-up went right up to the office of the president, ending in impeachment proceedings, which led President Nixon to resign.
During the years of Ronald Reagan’s presidency, misuse of power was punished as well. Fourteen people in or close to his administration were convicted for their participation in the Iran/Contra scandal in which the government secretly sold weapons to Iran, an act proscribed by law, with plans to use the funds from those sales to support American-backed Contra rebels in Nicaragua (also in violation of US law). True, of the 14 charged and 11 convicted, only one actually served his sentence in prison. Nonetheless, the convictions stood as a testament to a public acknowledgement of governmental wrongdoing.
Perhaps the saddest part of all is that the Trump administration has not just refused to take responsibility for anything whatsoever, but has blamed others, even those on the front lines of pandemic defense, for things that it did. Since Covid-19 struck American shores and the president and his officials failed to respond, resulting in a catastrophically high—and climbing—death toll, accountability has been harnessed to political whims in a new way. The president has, for instance, blamed President Obama whose pandemic office was dismantled by Trump’s own national security adviser John Bolton.
Until recently, President Trump refused to wear a mask in public and insisted—until belatedly canceling the Republican National Convention in Jacksonville, Fla., still rife with the pandemic—on holding a maskless, unsocial-distanced indoor rally in Tulsa despite overwhelming evidence that indoor transmission is the predominant means by which Covid-19 spreads. In doing so, he also encouraged irresponsible behavior at a local level, while supporting governors ready to imprudently reopen their state economies far too quickly and so condemn Americans there to an explosion of new cases.
It’s possible that this abdication of leadership, leading to a disastrously rising death rate, will, in the end, help Americans turn the corner from unaccountability to accountability—and not just for the disastrous Covid-19 response. Recent street protests from Portland to Manhattan, Chicago to Kansas City, are a sign that accountability is long overdue, not just for the current era, but for this century of American life.
In March, journalist Peter Bergen was the first person to call for a 9/11-style commission to investigate the government’s response to the coronavirus, “if only to make sure the nation is prepared for the next pandemic.” Recently, Democratic Senator Dianne Feinstein and Democratic Representative Adam Schiff, both from California, also proposed a Covid-19 Commission “not as a political exercise to cast blame, but to learn from our mistakes so we can prevent the problems we now face from being tragically repeated.… An honest analysis is the only way to adequately prepare for the next novel virus or another disaster.”
Of course, no such thing is imaginable until Donald Trump is out of office and the Senate in Democratic hands, which does look possible. In the meantime, in its own deadly fashion, the pandemic crisis may actually help turn the tide and bring accountability back to American shores. If more than 150,000 deaths, countless numbers of them preventable, don’t offer a compelling reason to hold our public officials responsible, then what would?
Whatever the punishments, however symbolic or cosmetic, crimes of this sort need to be exposed for what they are and those who carried them out officially identified and held to account. This has nothing to do with retribution. It is not about exacting punishment. It’s about shining a beam of light on deeds that have been harmful beyond imagination and must never be repeated. We as a nation need to remind ourselves of what morality, justice, and the responsible use of power can mean. The country has to be given a chance to restore its long-faded commitment to accountable government. And perhaps we should acknowledge one more crucial thing: that this may prove to be our last chance.


thenation--2020-08-04--The President’s Damned Lies Are Killing Us

The electronic billboard along the highway between Flint and Saginaw in the 2020 election battleground state of Michigan recorded last week the ominous total of 150,000 Covid-19 deaths .
This week it ticked past 155,000 , and it is headed toward 160,000 .
Soon it will pass 170,000 .
Then 180,000 .
Then 190,000 .
Then we will pause , for a moment , to note that 200,000 of our fellow Americans have died because of a public health crisis for which—the billboard erected by the group Mad Dog Pac reminds us—the president says , “ I don ’ t @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to believe that the president is an idiot , you may imagine that he can get away with absolving himself of responsibility for the constant mismanagement of the coronavirus pandemic that swept the country in March , seemed briefly to have been controlled by the urgent efforts of responsible governors , and then surged anew as Trump urged on a “ reopening ” strategy that history will recount as fatally flawed .
If , on the other hand , you recognize the reality that Donald Trump is a calculating egomaniac who cares about @ @ @ @ @ @ @ then it is necessary to accept that the president is lying to the country that will vote on November 3 .
And that those lies are killing astronomical numbers of the people he has sworn to protect and serve by faithfully executing the duties of the office of president of the United States .
Trump has never obeyed that oath , and he will continue not to obey that oath , even in an election year when , polls tell us , he is in political peril .
Trump Can ’ t Delay @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Make It a Chaotic Mess Without Medicare for All , This Isn ’ t ‘ the Boldest Democratic Platform in American History ’ He will keep lying .
And people will keep dying until he is removed from office in an election that , thankfully , he can not delay .
He is already outlining the lies that he will tell as Election Day approaches .
It was a desperate Donald Trump who sat down July 28 with Jonathan Swan , the Australian political journalist who now works with Axios .
And in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the lies that he will repeat and amplify as the election approaches .
Most Americans are familiar with the line , popularized by Mark Twain , about how “ there are three kinds of lies : lies , damned lies , and statistics.
” In the 35 minute interview with Swan , Trump feverishly peddled all three .
He sought to diminish the memory of Representative John Lewis—refusing to even say whether he found the late congressman ’ s record of civil rights activism and congressional service “ impressive ” —and again claimed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Black Americans than I have.
” He brushed aside New York Times reporting on how US intelligence agencies had concluded that a Russian military intelligence unit had offered payments for killing US troops in Afghanistan as “ fake news.
” He continued to rant and rave about “ corruption having to do with universal , mail-in voting ” and suggested that taking necessary steps to prepare for a safe and fair vote this fall could result in chaos where “ this election won ’ t be decided on the evening of November 3.
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ about Lewis .
Lying about his record on issues of concern to African Americans .
Lying about intelligence reports .
Lying about voting by mail , which is already working in states across the country .
Lying about the prospect of chaos that exists only because he and his political allies have blocked needed funding for upgrading election systems and deliberately undermined the US Postal Service .
Worst of all , Trump was lying—and will continue to lie—about a pandemic that is not , as he suggests , under control—that is , in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Without acknowledging that the US pandemic response has been a disaster , Trump tried to make excuses for his failures—claiming “ nobody knew what this thing was all about.
” In fact , his White House knew in January , when economic adviser Peter Navarro warned of “ an increasing probability of a COVID-19 pandemic that could infect as many as 100 million Americans , with a loss of life of as many as 1-2 million souls.
” Trump then claimed that “ if you watch the fake news on television , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it , but there are 188 other countries right now that are suffering .
Some , proportionately , far greater than we are.
” When Swan pointed out that “ very few ” were worse than the United States under Trump , the president pushed told a bigger lie : claiming that other countries have “ proportionately greater ” problems .
He was lying with statistics .
Trump , as Swan noted , “ was actually trying to litigate the death toll with me.
” The president argued that the United States looks @ @ @ @ @ @ @ much ” —another lie—and demanded that his interviewer accept the premise that “ because we are so much better at testing than any other country in the world , we show more cases.
” “ The figure I look at is death .
And death is going up now , ” he said .
“ It ’ s a thousand a day.
” Trump demanded that his interviewer “ look at some of these charts.
” “ Here ’ s one , ” the president said .
“ Well , right here : @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
We ’ re lower than the world.
” That ’ s where Trump revealed his absolute determination to lie , even when directly—and repeatedly—confronted .
Trump handed Swan a stack of papers .
“ Oh , you ’ re doing death as a proportion of cases .
I ’ m talking about death as a proportion of population , ” Swan explained .
“ That ’ s where the US is really bad .
Much worse than Germany , South Korea , etc.
” That ’ s where Trump , the liar @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Trump : You can ’ t .
You can ’ t do that .
Swan : Why can ’ t I do that ?
Trump : You have to go by , you have to go by—look , here is the United States , you have to go by the cases .
The cases of death .
Swan : Why not as a proportion of population ?
Trump : What it says is when you have somebody , where there ’ s a case , the people that live from those cases .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ surely a relevant statistic to say if the US has X population and X percentage of death of that population , opposed to some– Trump : No , because you have to go by the cases .
Swan : In South Korea , for example : 51 million population , 300 deaths .
It ’ s like , it ’ s crazy compared to other countries .
Trump : You don ’ t know that .
You don ’ t know that .
Swan : I do .
You think they ’ re @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Trump : Uh , I won ’ t get into that , because I have a very good relationship with the country .
But you don ’ t know that .
They have spikes .
Trump : Here ’ s one right here , United States .
The number of cases ; have a look .
We ’ re last—meaning we ’ re first .
Swan : Last ?
I don ’ t know what we ’ re first in .
Trump : Take a look , it ’ s cases .
And @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Swan : I mean , a thousand Americans are dying a day .
But , I understand , on cases it ’ s different .
Trump : No , but you ’ re not reporting it correctly , Jonathan .
Swan was reporting it correctly .
Trump was rejecting reality—and demanding that others do the same .
He will keep doing this , not because he is stupid but because he ’ s a desperate politician facing electoral accountability .
Trump ’ s lies will keep killing us from now until Election @ @ @ @ @ @ @ any indicator , until he is ushered out of the White House on January 20 , 2021 .
The only question is what the death toll will be on the electronic billboard along that Michigan highway .

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The electronic billboard along the highway between Flint and Saginaw in the 2020 election battleground state of Michigan recorded last week the ominous total of 150,000 Covid-19 deaths. This week it ticked past 155,000, and it is headed toward 160,000. Soon it will pass 170,000. Then 180,000. Then 190,000. Then we will pause, for a moment, to note that 200,000 of our fellow Americans have died because of a public health crisis for which—the billboard erected by the group Mad Dog Pac reminds us—the president says, “I don’t take responsibility.”
If you have chosen to believe that the president is an idiot, you may imagine that he can get away with absolving himself of responsibility for the constant mismanagement of the coronavirus pandemic that swept the country in March, seemed briefly to have been controlled by the urgent efforts of responsible governors, and then surged anew as Trump urged on a “reopening” strategy that history will recount as fatally flawed.
If, on the other hand, you recognize the reality that Donald Trump is a calculating egomaniac who cares about nothing save his own political success, then it is necessary to accept that the president is lying to the country that will vote on November 3. And that those lies are killing astronomical numbers of the people he has sworn to protect and serve by faithfully executing the duties of the office of president of the United States.
Trump has never obeyed that oath, and he will continue not to obey that oath, even in an election year when, polls tell us, he is in political peril. More From John Nichols A GOP Debate Without Trump Is the Definition of Pointlessness August 11, 2023 A Win for Abortion Rights, a Win for Democracy: Ohio Voters Reject Issue 1 August 9, 2023 The Biggest Threat to Donald Trump Could Be the Constitution Itself August 4, 2023
He will keep lying. And people will keep dying until he is removed from office in an election that, thankfully, he cannot delay.
He is already outlining the lies that he will tell as Election Day approaches.
It was a desperate Donald Trump who sat down July 28 with Jonathan Swan, the Australian political journalist who now works with Axios.
And in his desperation, the president told all the lies that he will repeat and amplify as the election approaches. Most Americans are familiar with the line, popularized by Mark Twain, about how “there are three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies, and statistics.”
In the 35 minute interview with Swan, Trump feverishly peddled all three.
He sought to diminish the memory of Representative John Lewis—refusing to even say whether he found the late congressman’s record of civil rights activism and congressional service “impressive”—and again claimed that “nobody has done more for Black Americans than I have.” He brushed aside New York Times reporting on how US intelligence agencies had concluded that a Russian military intelligence unit had offered payments for killing US troops in Afghanistan as “fake news.” He continued to rant and rave about “corruption having to do with universal, mail-in voting” and suggested that taking necessary steps to prepare for a safe and fair vote this fall could result in chaos where “this election won’t be decided on the evening of November 3.” Popular "swipe left below to view more authors"Swipe → The Evisceration of a Public University The Evisceration of a Public University Lisa M. Corrigan The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks Chris Lehmann “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash Dave Zirin A Grim Chronicle of Trump’s Corrupt Public Life A Grim Chronicle of Trump’s Corrupt Public Life Chris Lehmann Popular "swipe left below to view more authors"Swipe → The Evisceration of a Public University The Evisceration of a Public University Lisa M. Corrigan The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks Chris Lehmann “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash Dave Zirin A Grim Chronicle of Trump’s Corrupt Public Life A Grim Chronicle of Trump’s Corrupt Public Life Chris Lehmann Current Issue View our current issue
The president was lying. Lying about Lewis. Lying about his record on issues of concern to African Americans. Lying about intelligence reports. Lying about voting by mail, which is already working in states across the country. Lying about the prospect of chaos that exists only because he and his political allies have blocked needed funding for upgrading election systems and deliberately undermined the US Postal Service.
Worst of all, Trump was lying—and will continue to lie—about a pandemic that is not, as he suggests, under control—that is, in reality, worsening with each passing day.
Without acknowledging that the US pandemic response has been a disaster, Trump tried to make excuses for his failures—claiming “nobody knew what this thing was all about.” In fact, his White House knew in January, when economic adviser Peter Navarro warned of “an increasing probability of a COVID-19 pandemic that could infect as many as 100 million Americans, with a loss of life of as many as 1-2 million souls.”
Trump then claimed that “if you watch the fake news on television, they don’t even talk about it, but there are 188 other countries right now that are suffering. Some, proportionately, far greater than we are.” When Swan pointed out that “very few” were worse than the United States under Trump, the president pushed told a bigger lie: claiming that other countries have “proportionately greater” problems.
He was lying with statistics.
Trump, as Swan noted, “was actually trying to litigate the death toll with me.” The president argued that the United States looks bad only “because we test so much”—another lie—and demanded that his interviewer accept the premise that “because we are so much better at testing than any other country in the world, we show more cases.”
“The figure I look at is death. And death is going up now,” he said. “It’s a thousand a day.”
Trump demanded that his interviewer “look at some of these charts.”
“Here’s one,” the president said. “Well, right here: United States is lowest in numerous categories. We’re lower than the world.”
That’s where Trump revealed his absolute determination to lie, even when directly—and repeatedly—confronted.
“Lower than the world?” asked Swan.
“Lower than Europe,” replied Trump.
“In what?” the interviewer asked.
Trump handed Swan a stack of papers. “Oh, you’re doing death as a proportion of cases. I’m talking about death as a proportion of population,” Swan explained. “That’s where the US is really bad. Much worse than Germany, South Korea, etc.”
That’s where Trump, the liar in chief, went into overdrive.
Trump: You can’t. You can’t do that.
Swan: Why can’t I do that?
Trump: You have to go by, you have to go by—look, here is the United States, you have to go by the cases. The cases of death.
Swan: Why not as a proportion of population?
Trump: What it says is when you have somebody, where there’s a case, the people that live from those cases.
Swan: Sure. It’s surely a relevant statistic to say if the US has X population and X percentage of death of that population, opposed to some–
Trump: No, because you have to go by the cases.
Swan: In South Korea, for example: 51 million population, 300 deaths. It’s like, it’s crazy compared to other countries.
Trump: You don’t know that. You don’t know that.
Swan: I do. You think they’re faking their statistics? South Korea?
Trump: Uh, I won’t get into that, because I have a very good relationship with the country. But you don’t know that. They have spikes.
Swan: Germany, low nine thousands?
Trump: Here’s one right here, United States. The number of cases; have a look. We’re last—meaning we’re first.
Swan: Last? I don’t know what we’re first in.
Trump: Take a look, it’s cases. And we have cases because of the testing.
Swan: I mean, a thousand Americans are dying a day. But, I understand, on cases it’s different.
Trump: No, but you’re not reporting it correctly, Jonathan.
Swan: I think I am.
Swan was reporting it correctly. Trump was rejecting reality—and demanding that others do the same. He will keep doing this, not because he is stupid but because he’s a desperate politician facing electoral accountability.
Trump’s lies will keep killing us from now until Election Day and, if his record is any indicator, until he is ushered out of the White House on January 20, 2021. The only question is what the death toll will be on the electronic billboard along that Michigan highway.