Lincoln, Trump, and Our Better Angels
After five years living in D.C., I finally did a tour of Ford’s Theatre this Saturday. Anyone in Washington with a mild Lincoln interest should take the time to do the same. The theatre has been completely restored, and yet feels like a step back in time; the stage holds contemporary shows seven days a week, while the presidential booth set up just as it was the day of the assassination. The museum also has some remarkable items to see: John Wilkes Booth’s pistol, the broken music stand he used to prop the balcony door closed, and the pillow Lincoln rested his head on as he lay dying. So enthralled was I with the sixteenth president that I convinced the ladies I spent the weekend with to watch Spielberg’s three hour biopic instead of a newer, lighter rom-com.
Then Sunday, while working at my part-time hotel job, I was giving walking directions to the Lincoln memorial to an older couple when I was surprised to learn it was Abe’s birthday. Apparently this weekend was destined to be Lincoln-centered, and so, in light of all of the recent goings-on, here are a few thoughts:
At first glance, some of the more superficial comparisons that can be drawn between Presidents Trump and Lincoln are quite striking — and don’t sit so well in the pit of your stomach.
For one, neither Trump nor Lincoln would seem qualified to be president on paper. Donald Trump, of course, had never before held public office. Abraham Lincoln only served a few terms in the Illinois legislature in Springfield, and one two-year term in the House of Representatives — in the 1840s, over a decade before being elected President.
Both unexpectedly beat many heavily-favored, heavily-qualified opponents. Trump bested seventeen other Republican primary candidates, including younger senators, older governors, the son and brother of two former presidents, a doctor, and an HP executive, before finally upsetting Hillary Rodham Clinton in the general election. After losing the VP spot on the brand-new Republican party ticket in 1856, Lincoln, the country lawyer, beat out ambitious senators William Seward and Salmon Chase for their party’s nomination in 1860. Lincoln would later appoint both men to his cabinet.
Trump and Lincoln both found themselves in the top office of a deeply divided nation. Lincoln was forced to save the union during the bloodiest war the United States has ever known. Donald Trump is currently presiding over an America with historically high political polarization, protesters in the street, and a calcified congress.
So then, does Trump = Lincoln?
Of course not.
In considering the differences between these two presidents, it is vital that we weigh the men themselves. Lincoln was born in a log cabin and was raised by a poor father, taught himself the law, and would provide for that father’s financial well being for the remainder of his life. Trump was born to a wealthy family, and was provided an enormous loan by his father — one which he now downplays as inconsequential. Trump is notoriously vain, obsessed with the photos the news media uses of him, while Lincoln once remarked, after being called two-faced, “if I were two-faced, would I being wearing this one?”
We also must consider their messages. Much has been written on Trump’s executive actions recently, and so we shall instead focus on Lincoln. At the height of the Civil War, much of the fear surrounding the emancipation of the southern slaves — instead of considering the extreme injustice of the institution and the value of human dignity — revolved around the effect it would have on everyone else; would these freed slaves take our jobs? Would their culture prove incompatible with ours? Do they resent us and our way of life? Are they dangerous?
Sound familiar?
Lincoln fought back against the fear-mongers, and ensured the Thirteenth Amendment to our Constitution passed (as was demonstrated spectacularly in Spielberg’s movie — thanks Steve). Today, we are taught to appreciate the wisdom it takes to see through the haze of current events and be on the right side of history, as Lincoln was. We must also consider the value of compassion, mercy, and forgiveness:
“We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.”
In the midst of these vexing times, let us turn to Lincoln, and call upon those better angels.
