Four years ago, I was a Trump supporter. I voted for him in the 2016 election and I thought that we would witness the transformation of the businessman into a president, someone who could bring innovation, entrepreneurial thinking and a host of new ideas into the office of the presidency.
But it became clear all too quickly that he is really more of a raconteur, a promotor, someone whose personality remains best suited to the TV gameshow role he made so successful a decade ago. He is not a manager and he certainly doesn’t have the capacity or interest in dealing with 4.2 million federal government employees or 5,000 staff in his executive office. Responsibility of that magnitude simply does not match his skillset.
The exodus of career professionals from key positions in the executive underlines how confidence in his administration dissipated. He sees the office of the presidency in the same way he sees his business portfolio – something that should be run to his narrow benefit.
That said, Mr Trump does have a world view: he wants to return to the 1890s, the Gilded Age, when 80 percent of the goods and products consumed by Americans were made in America. I choose the timeframe deliberately; it was an era characterised by huge inequality, anti-immigration sentiment and isolation from the rest of the world – enabled by giant walls in the form of two oceans.
Put simply, the president doesn’t believe America needs the rest of the world. The theory of international trade, put forward in the 19th century by David Ricardo, in which no nation can obtain all it needs at the lowest possible price without international trade, is one he rejects. The “America first” of the campaign trail really means “America alone”.
The end of the benevolent empire
In foreign policy terms, this has translated into an unravelling of the bipartisan belief in America’s role as a benevolent, imperial democracy. Ever since World War Two, there has been a consensus that America should use our military might around the world to support peace, prosperity and, where possible, democracy. Our empire hasn’t been one of conquest or of land, but of culture and capitalism – the idea of America as the primary export – and, in places like Europe, it has acted as a guarantor against another of that continent’s episodic wars.
That compact lasted 72 years. Mr Trump, however, has begun to pull at these threads, reversing – and in many instances misunderstanding – many of our commitments. Why is our military stationed in Germany? Why are there still US bases in South Korea? What is the function of the G7? He doesn’t accept the our military expense is an insurance policy against conflict, that our alliances strengthen us, that our economic power – in which four percent of the world’s population is responsible for a quarter of the world’s economic output – relies on our continuing engagement with, and often defence of, the rest of the world.
For Eisenhower Republicans like myself, who believe American exceptionalism means we are uniquely capable of defending democracy, we are seeing a troubling decline in American standing and influence in certain parts of the world. And that ought to concern our allies. By undermining our existing agreements, you create unnatural ones, which we are now seeing in the case of the deepening relations between China and Russia – both of whom will be looking to step into the power vacuum we are now creating.
I recall saying to him on Air Force One to dial back his criticism of NATO. His response was to question how it benefits us. His view on foreign affairs, like his view on domestic policy, is entirely transactional: does something have a direct, quantifiable value to him or his legacy.
Even a notable success such as the landmark agreement between the United Arab Emirates and Israel, which he personally helped broker, came after a series of one-sided missteps in the region that threaten to sideline long-standing allies such as Jordan and Egypt. The suspicion remains that domestic – and therefore personal – considerations were to the fore in both Trump and Netanyahu’s thinking.
The stakes, then, in November’s election aren’t simply high for Americans, who in the last three and a half years have witnessed economic collapse, the gradual unpicking of democratic institutions and, most importantly, 160,000 deaths – the equivalent of four Vietnam wars. They’re also high for our allies and preservation of established international norms.
But I want to be optimistic about 2021. I would, of course, prefer that a Republican is in the White House next year, but I do believe that the world is better served by an administration that understands the importance of a strong, engaged America. There’s no doubt Joe Biden would be a better choice across the board.
It’s encouraging that so many from my party believe the same, and it’s a fight more of us are ready to take on.
Five things we learned from this article:
- Anthony Scaramucci voted for Donald Trump in 2016
- He doesn’t think his former boss has the capacity or interest in dealing with 4.2 million federal government employees or 5,000 staff in his executive office
- Scaramucci says the president doesn’t believe America needs the rest of the world
- He is worried that the US is seeing a decline in its standing and influence in certain parts of the world
- He’d prefer to see a Republican in the White House next year
Anthony Scaramucci is the CEO of Skybridge Capital and a former spokesman for President Trump
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