Desultory Diary, Episode 23: Hamlet and Mini-Malvolio

It might seem odd to compare the greatest fictional character of all time, whose profundity makes him often seem more real than we seem to ourselves, with a "real" person who happens to be the most powerful person in the world, yet who lacks depth to such a degree that he appears to have sprung into reality from a peurile novel  jotted down by a hack. Does it make sense to compare an ocean with a jar of pond water; does it make sense to compare Hamlet with Trump? I think it does, and I hope you will soon agree. 

If we use a microscope to analyze a cup of brackish, foul-smelling water, we will discover the same molecules as exist in the sea, albeit on a smaller scale; we will also discover that the same principles--the laws of physics--are at work, which are incontrovertible not only in the pond water and in the ocean, but, as far as we can tell, in the entire universe as well. Hamlet, the ocean, and Trump, a jar of swamp water, thus have more in common than one might think. Their problems are very different, but they are human problems, albeit on vastly different scales.

1. Hamlet

                            
                                Laurence Olivier in the 1948 film

In whatever room Hamlet was present, he was always the smartest person in that room--and he knew it. The only competition for this distinction is Horatio, a scholar. Hamlet, however, asserts his deeper knowledge relative to him with his famous line, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,/Than are dreamt in your philosophy” (Ham. 1.5. 167-168). Who would disagree with that?

I have done a deeper analysis of Hamlet’s psychological state in my essay, “Ramana Maharshi and Shakespeare,” which is available on this blog.  The purpose of this writing is to shine a light on Trump's personality by comparing him with Hamlet.

In Shakespeare, the macrocosm and microcosm are linked. There has been a regicide which has upset both orders. The world order cannot be restored until the murder has been solved and the murderer executed. Hamlet, the only one who knows this, soon finds out that his uncle, Claudius, had murdered his father, also named Hamlet. Hamlet knew this before the ghost of his father informed him about how he died. (When the murder is revealed, Hamlet replies, O my prophetic soul!)

Now Hamlet knows that his father’s death must be avenged. But he can’t act. Why is that?

The time is out of joint. Oh cursed spite,

That ever I was born to set it right!

                                                                                    1.5, 189-190

Hamlet’s consciousness is profound. He can see the consequences of actions much as a chess master can figure out almost all possible moves. Emphasis on the almost. Hamlet, as it were, identifies with a Knight. If he moves in a certain way, he anticipates counter movements and counter movements, until he is consumed with anxiety. His sense of being demands that he make the right move, and he is never sure what that is. For Hamlet to make the one right move that is required of him, he feels he needs to have perfect insight. This he knows he lacks; so he does nothing and lapses into a suicidal depression.

Claudius, with his limited vision, is able to act. He sends Hamlet to England in the company of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern with a secret letter that demands that Hamlet be killed on the spot upon reaching England. During the voyage, all are captured by pirates. In the bowels of the ship, which represent the depth of the sea, Hamlet faces death. This experience enlightens him; he realizes now that he is not the cosmos, no matter how smart he happens to be. This enables him to act. He purloins the letter, and writes another one, which requires the execution of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern instead of him. He escapes, and returns to Denmark.

He is now a changed man; no more thoughts of suicide, no more  depression. When Horatio warns him not to duel with the excellent fencer, Laertes, Hamlet replies:

There’s special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, ‘tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come. The readiness is all. Since no man has aught of that he leaves, what is ‘t to leave betimes? Let be.
                                                                                       V.2. 230-235

No more to be or not to bes for him! He realizes that even his vision is only partial, that we all see through a glass darkly, as it were. He accepts his limitations and will do his best, and leaves it at that. (The readiness is all).

Hamlet is now wise and, for the first time in the play, is fit to be king. He dies nevertheless. Although he defeats Laertes, he falls victim to a superficial wound from  a poison-tipped sword.

If Shakespeare, at the time he wrote Hamlet, had lost interest in writing tragedies, as he did in his later, so-called problem plays, what a different ending this play might have had!

2. Trump
                    

                                Donald J. Trump in his lifelong role as Mini-Malvolio 

The big difference between the two is Hamlet knows he is smart, while Trump merely thinks he’s smart. Hamlet is a play of transformation, from ignorance to wisdom, while Trump remains ignorant, blinded by his own disease.

Trump’s malignant narcissism makes him imagine he’s always the smartest guy in the room. Imagined perfection permits no advice. What he demands from his Horatios, e.g. Drs. Fauci and Birx, is confirmation and praise. Sylvia Plath once wrote, “Perfection is terrible, it cannot have children.” Imagined perfection is even worse; it cannot have advisors, it cannot even have friends.

A malignant narcissist lives for praise; a president of a large country, however, is always going to be criticized, no matter how good he is. (And Trump is undoubtedly an incompetent president,) This contradicts Trump’s fantasy of being “a very stable genius”—if you criticize him, it is, according to him, fake news.

What inspired this essay was Trump’s recent pratfall during a nightly news conference. He made the egregious suggestion that ingesting bleach or somehow “putting light under the skin” might be “worth looking into” as a treatment for Covid-19. He said this to Dr. Brix, an expert, who remained stoically silent. (I imagine a SNL skit: in the first clip, Dr. Fauci and Dr. Brix remain silent and grim-faced during a news conference while Trump rattles on; the second clip depicts them in private, laughing uncontrollably).

The news media reported on the President's unhinged musings, but I haven’t heard any reporter theorizing why Trump said such dangerous nonsense. (The Republican governor of Maryland announced today that Poison Control in his state has been inundated with Clorox calls. After Trump's terrible announcements on Thursday, New York has reported at least 30 poisonings from the ingestion of bleach. What a president says matters). 

This is my take. Trump is feeling very insecure; deep inside, despite all his lying, he knows that he is losing popularity--and losing the possibility of praise makes a narcissist feel nauseated as a kid would after swallowing a Tide pod. He is always desperately trying to assert his (imagined) genius, and more and more often, due to his limitations and increasing desperation, falls flat on his face.

In private, before the news conference in question, Trump must have thought to himself: Bleach and Light—a great idea—and I came up with it! I will announce it to the doctors. They will think it’s a wonderful suggestion, look into it, and, eventually praise Me for finding the cure! This will work perhaps even better than hydroxychloroquine! Everyone will finally acknowledge my supreme genius!

Any other person would have run these quack ideas before experts before speaking to the nation. But narcissists want lackeys, not advisers, and refuse to listen to anyone.

The problem is made worse by the fact that not only is Trump a narcissist, he is also stupid. You could forgive the pseudo-scientific remedies he touted if they had been proposed by a child. The average high-school student, however, with even a smattering of virology, would know that once a virus has infected the host, bleach is not the way to go, (or, better said, is a way to go). Bleach and light can destroy viruses on surfaces; but once inside cells, the only way bleach and intense light can destroy specific viruses is by destroying the whole organism as well.

Narcissism and stupidity are always a toxic combination--especially toxic in a president!  Both of these defects had to join for Trump to have made those ridiculous statements. (If Trump had been a narcissist and intelligent, he never could have made them; on the other hand, if he had been stupid and a politician, he wouldn’t have made them either; he would have deferred to experts, at least in public).

Only the toxic combination of narcissism and stupidity allowed Trump to make a fool of himself, thus deepening Trump’s neediness and despair.

Trump's pathology dashed the hopes of those who thought he might mend his ways once in office. It is very unlikely that a man as ill as Trump could overcome his problems and become presidential. There is as much chance for that as for the horse which Caligula allegedly planned to appoint as a consul to have become as eloquent as Cicero after its appointment. Expectations that Trump would improve were instead buried under thousands of lies and countless examples of erratic behavior.

Hamlet became wise; Trump remains stuck in pathology. There is no way for him to improve until he has insight into his condition. This seems very unlikely; for him, the truth would not set him free; the truth would destroy him.

If Trump were not the president, I would pity him. We cannot pity him, however, since he is doing such harm to our country and to the world. We must all work resolutely to defeat him in November, 2020, for if he wins again, there is a good chance he might well defeat all of us.