Who’s Afraid of Donald Trump?

Published in La Presse
(Canada) on 30 January 2016
by Stephane LaPorte (link to originallink to original)
Translated from by Meredith O'Connell. Edited by Danielle Tezcan.
When Donald Trump presented himself as a candidate for the Republican Party, everyone laughed. Good, that should be fun! Nobody could have believed that one day, he would be an important player. With his orange hairdo, he could be at best the party's Youppi,* its mascot, distracting, but incapable of gaining points.

He launched his campaign with a bombshell: "When Mexico sends its people, they're not sending their best; they're not sending you … They're bringing drugs. They're bringing crime. They're rapists." That's all — subtle like a truck! His solution to counter Mexican immigration is to build a wall along the border, with Mexico assuming the cost. Of course, no problemo, Mexico only has to pay for its neighbor's wall.

All of the billionaire's inability to rise to the level of a statesman was contained in this declaration, insulting an entire people and proposing a wall of shame. A great plan. Commentators are certain: His campaign is on its last legs. Astonishingly, according to the first polls, his campaign is still very much alive. Really? It could only be a question of time until the next slip-up. His time would come.

Blunders are not lacking. Donald makes one each day, declarations so huge that they put an end to anyone's political ambitions — anyone, that is, except Donald.

In regard to Hillary Clinton, he tweeted: "Hillary Clinton can't satisfy her husband, what makes her think she can satisfy America?" With regard to Fox News journalist Megyn Kelly, he said that she had asked him unfair questions because she was on her period: "You could see there was blood coming out of her eyes. Blood coming out of her wherever."

Compared to Donald Trump, Mike Ward seems like Charles Tisseyre.*

His racist, misogynist remarks and his heinous remarks have not lost him support. On the contrary, the more he is talked about, the more people want to vote for him.

The more Donald Trump says silly things, the more he convinces everyone. And he knows it. Last week he declared, "I could stand in the middle of 5th Avenue and shoot somebody and I wouldn't lose voters." Freak out! An American presidential candidate who compares himself to a crazy shooter. Imagine if Hillary Clinton had said that. Goodbye, White House, hello, Sun Residences. But with Donald, it's allowed. Because he has a reason. For the past few months, Trump has been in the middle of 5th Avenue in New York, and he fires insanities without losing a single voter. In fact, he's gaining.

Why? Because Trump is in his element. He might be a neophyte in politics, but a presidential race is not politics. It's a popularity contest. And popularity contests are Trump's life: He is Miss Universe. His opponents don't have any weight. The more he scandalizes, the more everyone fights over him. Comedians mock him, but they are the first to invite him on their shows. Trump has toured all the talk shows. And yet, he has the last laugh. Saturday Night Live imitates and twists him in derision, but when all is said and done, that is when Saturday Night Live records its best ratings. And we laugh with him.

Therein lies the problem: No one is afraid of Donald Trump. His fans view him as a messiah. Those whom he shocks with his proposals view him as a buffoon.

There's no one to put him in the hot seat; no one to tear his arguments to pieces; nobody to make people realize the danger he represents. His Republican Party rivals play supporting roles in the “Donald Trump Show.” When they speak, we still look at him. He gesticulates. He sighs. He grimaces. Donald Trump even fascinates those who don't think like him.

It's been months since he announced the explosion of his bubble. And the bubble is holding up as well as his toupee. In Loto-Quebec's new political lottery, Trump has the best odds of becoming the Republican candidate in the presidential elections. Experts can say that it won't happen, but the money says otherwise.

Donald trump incarnates the political spectacle. He is the Frank Underwood of “House of Cards” come to life.

Eight years ago, Obama made America dream. He promised purity, equality, hope. Eight years later, nothing has changed.

America is immunized against beautiful speeches; these no longer convince anyone. Trump promises power, money and glory — in short, everything that convinces the desperate; everything that convinces those who no longer believe in anything.

One can't be afraid of anything when one believes that the worst has already arrived.

However, the main characteristic of an empire is to grow worse.

*Editor’s note: Youppi is a Canadian Montreal mascot.

**Editor’s note: Mike Ward is a Canadian stand-up comedian. Charles Tisseyre is a journalist, TV host and science writer.


Quand Donald Trump s’est présenté à l’investiture du Parti républicain, tout le monde a souri. Bon ! Ça va être drôle ! Personne n’a cru qu’il pouvait être un joueur important. Avec sa chevelure orange, il pouvait au mieux être le Youppi du parti. Trump, la mascotte. Distrayant, mais incapable de marquer des points.

Il a lancé sa campagne en disant une énormité : « Quand le Mexique nous envoie ces gens, ils n’envoient pas les meilleurs d’entre eux. Ce sont des drogués. Ce sont des criminels. Ce sont des violeurs. » Rien que ça ! Subtil comme un truck. Sa solution pour contrer l’immigration des Mexicains : bâtir un mur le long de la frontière dont le coût serait assumé par le Mexique. Ben sûr ! No problémo, le Mexique a juste ça à faire, payer le mur de son voisin.

Toute l’incapacité du milliardaire à se hisser au rang d’homme d’État était contenue dans cette déclaration. Insulter un peuple en entier et proposer un mur de la honte. Le beau programme. Les commentateurs étaient certains : son chien était mort. Étonnamment, selon les premiers sondages, son chien courait encore. Ah bon ? Ça ne pouvait être qu’une question de temps, dès la prochaine bourde, son cas allait être réglé.

Des bourdes, c’est pas ça qui a manqué. Donald en fait une par jour. Des déclarations tellement grossières qu’elles mettraient fin aux ambitions politiques de n’importe qui. N’importe qui, sauf Donald.

À propos d’Hillary Clinton, il a tweeté : « Comment peut-elle satisfaire son pays si elle ne satisfait pas son mari ? » À propos de la journaliste de Fox News Megyn Kelly, il a dit qu’elle lui avait posé des questions injustes parce qu’elle avait ses règles : « On pouvait voir du sang sortir de ses yeux, du sang sortir de son… où que ce soit. » À côté de Donald Trump, Mike Ward a l’air de Charles Tisseyre.

Ses remarques racistes, ses remarques misogynes, ses propos haineux ne lui font pas perdre d’appuis. Au contraire. Plus on parle de lui, plus on veut voter pour lui.

Plus Donald Trump dit n’importe quoi, plus il convainc n’importe qui. Et il le sait. La semaine dernière, il a déclaré : « Je pourrais me placer au milieu de la 5e Avenue à New York et tirer sur quelqu’un, ça ne me ferait pas perdre un seul électeur. » Capoté ! Un candidat à la présidence des États-Unis qui se compare à un tireur fou. Imaginez si Hillary Clinton avait dit ça. Adieu, la Maison-Blanche. Bonjour, la Résidence Soleil. Mais avec le Donald, ça passe. Parce qu’il a raison. Depuis des mois, Trump est au milieu de la 5e Avenue à New York et il tire des insanités sans perdre aucun électeur. Au contraire, il en gagne.

Pourquoi ? Parce que Trump est sur son terrain. En politique, c’est peut-être un néophyte, mais une course à la chefferie, ce n’est pas de la politique, c’est un concours de popularité. Et les concours de popularité, c’est sa vie. Donald Trump est Miss Univers. Ses opposants ne font pas le poids. Plus il scandalise, plus on se l’arrache. Les humoristes s’en moquent, mais ils sont les premiers à l’inviter chez eux. Trump fait la tournée de tous les talk-shows. Et partout, c’est lui qui rit le dernier. Saturday Night Live l’imite et le tourne en dérision, mais c’est quand le vrai est là pour vrai que Saturday Night Live enregistre ses meilleures cotes d’écoute. Et on rit avec lui.

Tout le problème est là. Personne n’a peur de Donald Trump. Ses fans le voient comme un Messie. Et ceux que ses propos choquent le voient comme un bouffon.

Il n’y a personne pour le remettre en question. Personne pour mettre ses argumentaires en pièces. Personne pour faire réaliser le danger qu’il représente. Ses rivaux à l’investiture républicaine jouent les seconds rôles dans le Donald Trump Show. Quand ils parlent, c’est encore lui qu’on regarde. Il gesticule. Il soupire. Il grimace. Donald Trump fascine même ceux qui ne pensent pas comme lui.

Ça fait des mois qu’on annonce l’éclatement de sa balloune. Et la balloune tient autant que son toupet. À la nouvelle loterie politique de Loto-Québec, Trump est le mieux coté pour devenir le candidat républicain aux élections présidentielles. Les experts ont beau dire que ça n’arrivera pas, l’argent pense le contraire.

Donald Trump est l’incarnation de la politique spectacle. C’est Frank Underwood de House of Cards devenu réalité.

Il y a huit ans, Obama a fait rêver l’Amérique. Il promettait la pureté, l’égalité, l’espoir. Huit ans plus tard, rien n’a changé.

L’Amérique est immunisée contre les belles paroles. Ça ne la convainc plus. Trump promet la puissance, le cash et la gloire. Bref ce qui convainc les désespérés. Ce qui convainc ceux qui ne croient plus en rien.

On n’a peur de rien quand on croit que le pire est déjà arrivé.

Pourtant, le propre d’un empire, c’est d’empirer.
This post appeared on the front page as a direct link to the original article with the above link .

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