Court Intrigue

 When the news broke yesterday about Trump's name showing up in the Epstein emails, I confess that I mostly just rubbed my palms together in typical Resistance lib glee. "Oohoo boy, looks like more bad news for Trump! Gimme gimme!" I said. 

A friend called me up shortly afterward, though, to say: "actually, I think we just lost the midterms." The latest round of Epstein headlines—in his view—were the best thing that could have happened to Trump; and the worst that could have happened to Democrats. 

Do tell, I said.

For three or four golden weeks—he explained—we had actually been talking about real things. The headlines were dominated by stories that actually affect people—rising health care premiums; food stamps and other public benefits being withheld; air traffic disruptions, etc.

Trump had not actually managed to change the subject from these things, much as he tried to. And they played terribly for him. Everyone could see that Republicans did not want to extend the ACA subsidies at current levels—and that they hardly cared to prioritize food assistance. 

And this short-lived period—when the news headlines actually reflected policy substance—actually worked great for us. In the midst of it, Democrats had their best election night in years (last Tuesday). 

But now, the shutdown is over. The government is open for business again. And almost immediately (hours before, even, voting officially started to reopen the government), our political class got back into its usual futile rut of lurid scandal-mongering.

This is what the latest Epstein file dump represented for my friend: a return to the circus. Which meant in turn that we were back on Trump's terrain. We were fighting again in the attention economy—and that is a game, so long as we are playing it, that Trump will always win. 

Okay, I said—but  how exactly does this play to Trump's advantage? Surely it's a bad look—even for him—to have his name publicly linked to Epstein over and over again in this way. 

My friend—who, according to our standing half-serious whim (never yet disproven) serves as a bellwether for the hypothetical "average voter" out there—said that all of this just comes across to ordinary people as so much "court intrigue." 

Whereas for weeks during the shutdown, we had been arguing about real things; now, it felt like we were back to gossiping in the halls of Versailles. The courtiers were whispering to one another about the king's toenail clippings. 

And this is where my friend made a crucial point about political psychology—one seldom recognized in ostensible democracies like ours. When a lot of dirt and scandal and filth is being kicked up around the ruling elite—he pointed out—it just prompts people to favor "the emperor" even more. 

"All these courtiers are bickering and backstabbing once again"—people think to themselves—"that's what they always do. Might as well favor the current emperor then, since—even if he's just as filthy and corrupt as they are—at least he brings stability." 

In a world where everyone in the ruling coterie seems morally compromised (and what other conclusion could anyone draw from the Epstein scandal at this point?), people will tend to opt for whoever currently holds power—since they seem at least no worse than all the others, and it will minimize disruption to leave them in charge. 

"Better the devil you know," in short. 

I thought, as my friend told me this, of a section of Oliver Goldsmith's eighteenth century poem of social criticism, "The Traveller," that embodies this facet of political psychology. 

Goldsmith, in the poem, defends a certain practical Toryism—but not, he claims, because he is any sniveling partisan of the king. To the contrary, he holds himself aloof from flattery. But in a world of squabbling ambitions, he argues, it's better to have the king than these petty backstabbing lords. 

Yet think not thus, when Freedom's ills I state,

I mean to flatter kings, or court the great; he insists; 

[...] But when contending chiefs blockade the throne,

Contracting regal power to stretch their own,

[...] Fear, pity, justice, indignation start,

Tear off reserve, and bare my swelling heart;

'Till half a patriot, half a coward grown,

I fly from petty tyrants to the throne.

Of course, Trump is not supposed to be a king or an emperor, much as he claims otherwise. But that does not mean our democratic society is immune to the mental habits that millennia of caesarism have planted in our collective peasant brain. 

And indeed, the Epstein scandal has had a similar effect in at least one real-life monarchy. Did not the former Prince Andrew, for instance (the Andrew formerly known as Prince), show up several times in the latest email batch? 

And did not his associations with Epstein prompt the king to strip him of his royal titles just the other day? 

On some days, it can seem like the Epstein scandal has the power to bring down the entire British monarchy. 

But I suspect—to the contrary—it just strengthens the king's position; for the reasons given above. When petty dukes and princelings get caught up in the rumor mill, it casts a vague pall of obscenity over the entire British ruling class. 

And if they're all like that—then why not just back the one currently on the throne? At least King Charles represents stability. At least it will save us all a headache if he stays in the Palace. 

Better the devil you know than a bunch of squabbling imps trying to elbow their way into his place. 

Much the same dynamic may play to the president's advantage in this country, in turn—despite our vaunted democracy. 

Besides—was there anything in the Epstein emails the Democrats released yesterday that was really so definitive? 

Looking back over them, after the conversation with my friend—they suddenly didn't seem the smoking gun many had taken them for. 

The first email about Trump spending hours alone with an Epstein victim certainly sounds bad—but it boils down to a "he said-she said." The alleged victim never accused Trump; and now she is dead. Instead, the accusation is coming from Epstein himself—hardly a credible source!

There was also the email in which Epstein asserted that Trump obviously knew about his abuse of underage girls, because he "asked ghislaine to stop" (meaning, presumably, that he asked Ghislaine Maxwell to stop recruiting and grooming girls from Mar-a-Lago). 

But this, weirdly, is actually consistent with Trump's own official narrative. The White House says he asked Epstein to leave his club for "being a creep"; and he's already acknowledged the conflict between the two men had something to do with Epstein poaching people from his club. 

You might say—"but if Trump knew Epstein was such a 'creep'—a predator and an abuser—why didn't he report him to the authorities?" 

Good question—but it applies just as strongly to the White House press secretary's oft-repeated official version of events as it does to yesterday's revelations. 

In short, the new emails—while certainly kicking up another cloud of dirt around Trump and Epstein—don't actually add that much to what we know already. 

Resistance libs like me may have fleetingly thought: well, anything that kicks up dirt around Trump can't be a bad thing for us! 

But, to my friend's point—perhaps the opposite is the case. 

For people who are only vaguely following the news, kicking up dirt will only ever result in blowing the dirt back onto the people who present it for inspection. They will interpret the scandal-mongering as a tiresome, exhausting display of petty ambition—an attempt to gun for the throne—and therefore be all the more ready to plump for whoever currently holds power.

Yes, brother, curse with me that baleful hour,

When first ambition struck at regal power;  as Goldsmith wrote. 

So, no—the Epstein scandal will not save us. The only thing that might is if we can get the conversation back onto the topic of real issues. But Democrats just gave up some of their best leverage to do so when they voted to reopen the government... Sigh.