Trumpmania: The World Held Hostage

What the hell is he going to do now?

That's the question.

Not just in Washington. Everywhere.

In London, Berlin, Paris, Moscow, Beijing. In government offices, television studios, financial markets, cafés and living rooms.

What is Donald Trump going to do now?

The midterm elections have come and gone. The voters have spoken. They've tried to change the channel.

But Trump is still on television.

You switch to another channel.

Trump.

You try the news.

Trump.

You try something completely different.

Trump again.

All right. Enough. You switch off the television.

But it doesn't switch off.

You press the button again.

Nothing.

You pull the plug out of the wall.

The television keeps running.

Welcome to Trumpmania.

The world's first reality show you cannot turn off.

And now the audience is getting nervous.

Trump has suffered a political setback. What happens next? Does he accept it? Does he retaliate? Does he declare war on somebody? Does he invent a new emergency? Does he go after his enemies? Does he suddenly decide that everybody has betrayed him?

Will he take the whole world down with him?

Nobody knows.

And now, believe it or not, we're discussing whether the president of the United States might flee to Russia.

Russia!

This isn't something invented by a comedian. Jamie Rowen, a professor of international law at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, actually raised the possibility on the All Rise News podcast. She suggested that Trump and his allies might seek refuge in a friendly authoritarian country if they eventually faced criminal prosecution. Russia, she proposed, could be one such destination.

There is no evidence that Trump is planning anything of the sort. It's speculation.

But that's almost beside the point.

A university professor is discussing the possibility of an American president seeking refuge with Vladimir Putin, newspapers are reporting it, and the rest of us are sitting here wondering what on earth is going to happen next.

Imagine pitching that storyline to a television producer twenty years ago.

He would probably have told you to make it more believable.

Today, it's another episode.

And the remarkable thing is that the speculation never stops.

Every television studio has its panel of experts. Every newspaper has its analysis. Every former official has a warning. Every commentator has a theory.

He's going to do this.

No, he's going to do that.

He's bluffing.

He's not bluffing.

He's finished.

He's more dangerous than ever.

He's playing chess.

He's playing poker.

He's playing with fire.

Meanwhile, the man himself may be playing golf.

And the entire world is trying to work out what that means.

Is he relaxed? Is he planning something? Has he given up? Is this the calm before the storm?

Breaking news: The president has not said anything for three hours.

Experts are concerned.

And you cannot stop watching.

That's the real genius of the programme.

Ordinary reality television needs to invent ways to keep the audience interested. Someone must be eliminated. Someone must betray somebody. Someone must cry. Someone must threaten to leave the house.

Trumpmania has all of that.

Except nobody ever leaves the house.

And the house is the entire planet.

The American voters can change the composition of Congress. They can elect different representatives. They can make their dissatisfaction perfectly clear.

But they cannot change the channel.

Not yet.

The show continues.

And the rest of the world doesn't even have a remote control.

Think about that.

You live in Switzerland, Germany, Japan or Brazil. You have your own government, your own elections, your own problems. You might not have the slightest interest in American politics.

Too bad.

Trump is on.

Your government is watching. Your financial markets are watching. Your newspapers are watching. Your pension fund may be affected by what happens next.

You can refuse to participate in the audience, but you cannot necessarily escape the consequences of the programme.

It's television with compulsory participation.

And the strangest part is that nobody seems to know whether what they're watching is real.

Trump threatens somebody.

Is he serious?

Nobody knows.

He announces something extraordinary.

Will he actually do it?

Nobody knows.

He changes his mind.

Was that the plan all along?

Nobody knows.

A government responds. The markets react. The commentators explain. Trump responds to the response. The commentators explain the response to the response.

By now, three television networks have assembled emergency panels.

Somewhere, a professor is explaining the constitutional implications.

Somewhere else, a retired general is discussing military options.

And somewhere on social media, somebody is predicting the end of civilisation.

It's Tuesday.

Or Wednesday.

Does it matter anymore?

We used to have television programmes about politics. Now politics itself seems to have become a television programme.

And not even a particularly well-written one.

The plot is completely implausible. The characters contradict themselves. Storylines appear out of nowhere. Major developments are announced and forgotten. Nobody can explain what happened in the previous episode because everyone is already arguing about the next one.

If you submitted the script to a producer, he'd throw it back at you.

Too much, he'd say. Nobody would believe this.

But here we are.

And unlike an ordinary television show, the consequences are real.

A statement can move markets. A threat can send diplomats scrambling. An announcement can change the calculations of governments thousands of miles away.

Nobody knows whether the next episode will be a comedy, a farce, a political thriller or a disaster film.

And nobody knows whether the leading actor knows either.

In The Truman Show, Jim Carrey discovers that his entire life is a television production. The people around him are actors. The world he inhabits is a studio. Eventually, he finds the exit.

Trumpmania has reversed the arrangement.

Everybody knows there's a show.

Everybody knows who's starring in it.

But nobody can find the exit.

The audience has tried voting. It has tried protesting. It has tried ignoring him. It has tried laughing at him. It has tried taking him seriously.

Nothing seems to make the programme disappear.

Even when Trump is not doing anything, people are talking about what he might do.

And that's perhaps the most extraordinary development of all.

The show no longer needs events.

It runs on anticipation.

What if he does this?

What if he does that?

What if he refuses?

What if he retaliates?

What if he really goes too far?

The entire planet is watching a programme about things that haven't happened yet.

And every possible storyline has its own commentators, its own predictions, its own warnings and its own audience.

We are watching television about television about television.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, there is supposed to be a government running a country.

But who has time for that?

There's a new episode starting.

And the ratings are extraordinary.

His supporters watch because they want to see what he does next.

His opponents watch because they're afraid of what he might do next.

Everybody else watches because the consequences might land on their doorstep.

Love him or hate him, you're part of the audience.

You don't even have to watch voluntarily.

Your government will watch for you.

And tomorrow morning, the whole ritual begins again.

You wake up.

You reach for your phone.

What happened overnight?

Did he threaten somebody? Did somebody threaten him? Did he announce a deal? Cancel a deal? Start a fight? End a fight? Change his mind about a fight?

Is the world still there?

You check.

Yes.

More or less.

You put the phone down.

You've had enough.

You decide you're going to stop following the whole ridiculous spectacle. No more headlines. No more experts. No more speculation.

You're going to read a book. Take a walk. Listen to some music. Live your life.

And then your phone rings.

A friend wants to know whether you've heard what Trump just said.

You tell him you don't want to know.

He tells you anyway.

You switch off your phone.

The television in the next room is still talking.

You switch it off.

It keeps talking.

You pull the plug.

The screen stays on.

You walk outside.

Every shop window has a television.

Every television has Trump.

You look up at the sky.

For one wonderful moment, there is nothing there.

Then your neighbour opens his window.

"Have you heard what Trump just did?"

No.

No, you haven't.

And you don't want to.

But he's going to tell you.

Of course he's going to tell you.

Because the show must go on.

The voters have tried to change the channel.

The rest of the world is looking for the remote.

Somebody has pulled the plug.

And still, there he is.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to another episode of Trumpmania.

Tonight's question: What the hell happens next?

Stay tuned. You don't have a choice.