|
THE CONVERSATION SO FAR
Donald Trump told the American People that they need a great wall on the Mexican border to protect them from the rapists and criminals that Mexico is sending to enter the United States illegally, and he promised that he would build that wall and that Mexico would pay for it.
People understood. But other people believed he was lying, and were outraged. It's human nature; people get angry when they think they're being lied to, and they lash out.
But the accusation of lying —which is always made in anger— fundamentally changes the conversation. In fact, it ends it.
How? In a conversation, you and your partner in the conversation have a common goal: to understand each other. Each partner has the obligation to put as much effort into understanding as into making the other understand.
Of course it's an ideal. Most of what happens the social media is nothing like conversation.
But once an accusation of lying is aired, no more effort will be made towards understanding. The conversation is ended. What follows will be debate, in which you have an opponent rather than a partner, and the point is neither to understand your opponent's view nor to enable your opponent to see yours. The goal is winning —which means making a third party, the observers, more sympathetic to you than to your opponent.
And the charge of lying can be effective in a debate. It not only discredits your opponent's argument, but attacks his or her character, turning the audience to distrust and dislike him or her.
When trust breaks down in a conversation, the accusation of lying should the last resort. Serious misunderstandings occur because of differences in outlook, rhetorical style, of definitions of words —even the definition of lying itself. These other perspectives must be considered and can be brought into the conversation.
And after all that is said, sometimes there is lying.
A MATTER OF STYLE
Consider rhetorical style. A universal form of rhetoric called "puffery" in advertising terms, is largely tolerated. Claims of being the greatest, the finest, the best, the classiest, etc., are expressions of exuberant personal opinion. They can be neither proven nor disproven, so it's useless to dispute them.
If you've listened to any of Donald Trump's speech, you'll hear it. He acknowledges it. In his best-selling book, "The Art Of the Deal," he writes,
“I play to people's fantasies. People may not always think big themselves, but they can still get very excited by those who do. That's why a little hyperbole never hurts. People want to believe that something is the biggest and the greatest and the most spectacular. I call it truthful hyperbole. It's an innocent form of exaggeration—and a very effective form of promotion.”
That "very effective form of promotion" is his rhetorical style. He uses it reflexively, unthinkingly. He does not simply say, "I have a lot of respect for women," but frames it as a contest and proclaims himself the winner, "Nobody respects women more than me."
It is a style that grates on the sensibilities of those raised to respect the virtue of modesty. Along with honesty, integrity and responsibility, it was once considered a conservative value, now abandoned.
He offers no explanation of why he calls his hyperbole "truthful" —perhaps it's just more hyperbole. But here is the point of this puffery. You may find it off-putting, but you can't ask, "Really?" or, more to the point, "Is that what you really think of yourself?" Because to quibble about it makes you seem petty. So you let it pass. And perhaps, because he hears no one object, he assumes it is accepted by all, as universal truth.
CROSSING A LINE
The problem with puffery is that when there are objective standards, such as numerical data, that contradict it, it's perceived as lying. Many examples can be cited, but consider one instance of Donald Trump's performance in the Republican Primary debates.
On the subject of taxes, he could have made his point by saying, "Our taxes are high." The only way one could quibble with this is to ask, "Compared to what?"
Or he could have said, "Our taxes are too high." It would be understood it's just what he feels in his gut.
But what he actually said was, “We're the highest taxed country in the world.” This brought the accusation of lying. Tax rates are numerical data, and even a cursory review of them shows that many nations —most of the technologically advanced nations— have higher tax rates.
This went beyond puffery. It was a false statement.
And it was a powerful and effective false statement, because it set Donald Trump apart from all of the other Republican candidates. He pronounced it loudly and resentfully in two of the nationally televised debates. None of the other candidates made that strong statement. Or would make it. Because they knew it was false.
And consider, if he had simply expressed his opinion as an opinion, "Our taxes are too high," would that have impressed anyone? Ho-hum, that's what everybody says.
But still, one should consider carefully before making the accusation of lying. Making a false statement is not the same thing as lying.
IS IT LYING?
In the strictest sense of the term, a person cannot be said to be lying unless that person is aware that his or her assertion is not the truth, and that that person intends for his or her audience to accept it as the truth. And 'the truth' here, must necessarily be taken to mean what that person believes to be the truth.
In other words, a person who believes what he or she is saying is not lying. Not even if his or her statements are objectively found to be false.
But what a person knows or believes at any point can never be proven. People believe —or "know"— all sorts of things. An individual can even hold various beliefs that are objectively incompatible.
We should take a moment to note that in whatever facet or dimension you'd care to consider the human mind, there is as much variability as in any physical feature. Within the range of minds capable of social function there are geniuses, dullards and idiot savants, minds in thrall to obsessions and passions, pathological liars, religious fanatics (not your religion), and the most unremarkable ones, of whom the shocked neighbors will one day say, "he just seemed like an ordinary guy."
In other words, don't assume every mind inhabits the same reality as yours.
Some minds are facile enough to switch from one belief to another —even a contradictory one— as the context changes. A context might be determined by the forum or the audience, or even the conceptual framework perceived at a turn in a discussion.
People with such agile or volatile minds cannot be liars in the strictest sense, because they always believe what they are saying at the instant they are saying it.
Significantly, such people are understandably enraged when accused of lying. They know they advocate only what they believe, never having any intention to deceive. And they will defend themselves by calling their accusers liars.
KNEW OR SHOULD HAVE KNOWN
We are faced with the problem of judging a person on the basis of what is held entirely inside that person's mind. The problem has been encountered in the law. A person can be held legally responsible for what he or she knew at a certain point in time, but recognizing the impossibility of determining the actual state of a mind, the law broadens the definition of what one "knew," legally, to what one "knew or should have known." Then, observable factors such as age, education, experience or official position can be used to determine legal responsibility.
Some find the use of "knew or should have known" as a stand-in for "knew" disconcerting. It places an obligation into the same category as a presumed reality. The mixture adulterates the essential purity of truth.
But the purity of truth is an illusion. The critical truth here is confined to one particular mind, inaccessible to judge or jury. But since the law requires truths that are universally accepted —facts— the alternative "should have known" is a practical necessity.
Because this a somewhat subtle point, an example might help clarify it.
The Truth In Advertising law essentially makes it illegal to lie in advertising. For example, consider a Manhattan real estate salesman advertising a "68th-floor" apartment in the Fifth Avenue building known as Trump Tower —but the apartment is really on the 58th floor. This could actually happen in the floor numbering scheme of Trump Tower.
But for our example, imagine you're sitting in the jury when the salesman is on trial for violating the Truth In Advertising law. On the witness stand, he defends himself by claiming that since the elevator button he presses to get to the apartment has "68" next to it, he did not know it was really a 58th-floor apartment.
You might be sympathetic, ready to accept his innocence.
But when it is then revealed that he is also the actual builder of that building —and lives on what he calls the "66th" floor—, you might be more inclined to think his claim of ignorance is a lie, and he's guilty. But he's very convincing in his protest of innocence, and you don't want to convict an innocent person.
You wonder, could someone in his position really have such ignorance? Then you realize that someone had to tell the workers when to stop adding floors to the new tower. If he couldn't do that, then in spite of his title, he couldn't have been the real builder.
So if he's not lying, he's admitting to ignorance inconceivable for someone in his position, such that it's more conceivable that his presentation of himself in that position is a sham. If his claim of ignorance is the truth, his entire persona is a lie.
And that is the reason the law allows you to judge him guilty. As builder, he knew or should have known that Trump Tower is a 58-story building, and so could not have a 68th floor, in spite of what the elevator button says.
BACK IN REALITY
Back in reality, however, Donald Trump certainly does know that Trump Tower has only 58 stories, and he certainly does lie by advertising it as a 68-story tower. But no one's been prosecuted for false floor numbering. There's long been a tradition of omitting floor number 13 of tall buildings for reasons of superstition. The side effect is that such buildings seem one story taller than they actually are, and no one much cares. But Donald Trump, recognizing that apartments on higher floors command higher prices, inflated the floor numbers, and the height of his building, as a marketing technique. It is now a standard practice in residential towers, but Trump takes credit for initiating it.
In other words, Trump's innovation is deceptive marketing —lying, in the strictest sense of the term— but it's used only to attract interest in the property. It hasn't become the basis of lawsuits, because buyers are informed —and now required to certify that they've been informed— of the reality before the sale is concluded. And without a fraud victim, the practice of that form of lying is tolerated.
Since the prospective customer is informed that what's being purchased is not what's been advertised, this marketing technique is bait-and-switch advertising. It might be interesting to imagine how the buyer is told of the marketing deception. Is it, "Incidentally, we lied to you..."? Or is it, "Of course you know ... but for legal reasons we have to ask you to sign this statement that you were informed, anyway ... because you know how petty some people can be, to make a legal issue of this..."?
In other words, which approach is more likely to result in a sale (without a demand for a price reduction); telling the prospective customer that he or she's been fooled, or enabling the customer to pretend he or she was never fooled?
To be clear, the goal at this point of the transaction is to convert the victim of a lie to an accomplice in the lie, who will perpetrate it while believing it benefits himself or herself. The buyer will reap its rewards; both the status of a high floor number and superiority over the rubes who don't know it's false.
And, the success of this deception illuminates a fundamental feature of human nature. People who are lied to and believe the lie will be most reluctant to admit that they were fooled. Nobody wants to be seen as a fool. So the deceived ones will become accomplices to the lie, either insisting it is not a lie, or when that can no longer be supported, claiming that they were never deceived in the first place and the lie is really a good and necessary thing.
The deceived become deceivers; deception takes on the virtue of necessity. This theme will be encountered again.
CAMPAIGN UNTRUTHS: IGNORANCE
Though perhaps interesting, the form of legal reasoning in the above example cannot be directly applied to candidates for office. First and most obviously, Truth In Advertising laws do not apply to political advertising. As a side benefit of Freedom of Speech, lying in political speech is quite legal.
Secondly, since the Constitution's only requirements for the office of President are natural-born citizenship and age of at least 35 years, candidacy for the office implies no more knowledge than that of where you were born and how old you are.
Thus, when a candidate's statement is shown to be false, the charge of lying can be refuted by the claim that he or she did not know the statement was false. But once the suspicion of deviousness is aroused, it is not so easily dismissed. The opposition will still press the charge of lying through the intuitive use of the "should have known" criteria.
Consider an example of when Donald Trump did exactly this. In the middle of the first primary election in the 2016 race, the campaign of Senator Ted Cruz announced that another candidate had dropped out, which turned out to be untrue. Donald Trump, who seemed to believe that the Cruz statement was the reason he'd lost the primary to Cruz, then accused him of lying, and gave him the moniker "Lyin' Ted Cruz."
But Cruz replied that he was merely passing on information that his campaign had received from another campaign, and he did not realize it was untrue.
Of course, Trump couldn't have known whether Cruz knew the statement was untrue, so he could only have charged Cruz with irresponsibly passing on information without checking it. But the fact that he continued to use the appellation "Lyin' Ted Cruz" rather than "Irresponsible Falsehood-Propagatin' Ted Cruz" shows that he intuitively applied the legal standard "should have known".
It is heartening to know that Donald Trump will hold a candidate to a standard of responsibility for knowing the truth of his or her statements, on pain of being called a liar. The remaining question is whether he applies that same standard to himself.
CAMPAIGN UNTRUTHS: DIVERSIONS
Donald Trump himself has often been called a liar, but cases in which he has plead ignorance in response are hard to find. The case of Trump University comes close. The University was sued by former students for essentially being a sham. (Not the same case as the lawsuit filed by New York State for the sham of calling itself a University.) The students' complaints about its false advertising cited its claim that the instructors were "hand-picked by Donald Trump," but in a deposition taken in the case, Trump could not identify any of them. Though he owned the University (through other corporations) and was the corporate officer that signed its checks, he claimed not to be much involved with it, and unaware of its advertising.
This is an obvious case in which "should have known" ought to have applied to Trump's testimony, but Trump University settled the case, with a $25 million payment to the students, so no legal judgement on this matter was made.
Bearing in mind that Trump has an outstanding flair for marketing, it might seen odd that he claims ignorance of his organization's efforts in that area. But this might be an example of how persons in positions of power use subordinates —either individuals or corporations— to absorb the blame for their own deceptions.
CAMPAIGN UNTRUTHS: MISUNDERSTANDINGS
It is hard to blame another for the untruths that come directly from one's own mouth. Claiming ignorance of the truth has the disadvantage of making one appear ignorant.
A remaining option is to assert that the meaning of a clearly understood statement was misunderstood. A new meaning is then offered, but, conjured after the fact, the reasoning to it is often jury-rigged with convoluted abstract and arcane principles. Its success depends on so intimidating the listeners with its abstruseness that they blame themselves for not understanding it.
For example, after his election, Trump's untrue assertion that United States is the world's highest taxed nation was challenged by reporters at a press conference. His press secretary claimed that he was talking about the corporate tax rate.
It is true that at that time the U.S. corporate tax rate was one of the highest in the world. But if one wanted to talk about corporate taxes, it is very easy: just the use the words "corporate taxes." It's done in boardrooms all the time, and there's never any confusion with personal taxes. Instead, in the eighth Republican debate Trump said, "we're the highest taxed country in the world," and in the tenth debate, "If you look at what's going on, we have the highest taxes anywhere in the world. We pay more business tax, we pay more personal tax. We have the highest taxes in the world."
The skeptical reporters were given to understand that it's their fault they do not properly comprehend how these statements were about corporate taxes.
Since not a single journalist was swayed by her argument, it would seem a futile and pointless exercise by the press secretary. But the press conference was not a conversation: it was a debate. Each side was playing to the unseen television audience. And at this turn in the debate, the press secretary was on the defensive, simply offering the Trump believers a chance to keep believing.
There's been previous mention of the propensity of the fooled mind to resist acknowledgement of having been fooled, to the point of accepting far more foolishness. It shouldn't be necessary to repeat it.
Clearly, Trump's press secretary defended his false statement with a different false statement. But it's irrelevant to argue that she should have known that his statement was false, because her job is to convey the President's views, not to critically examine them. If there is a lie here, it's impossible to determine whether it's his or hers. Or both's.
CAN CAMPAIGN PROMISES BE LIES?
It widely believed that any candidate for the office of President of the United States would and should have knowledge beyond the most elementary, of economics, history, foreign relations, law, government, the Constitution, and the powers of the Presidency. No formal requirement for it was ever deemed necessary, it being generally supposed that ignorance of these essential matters would be quickly exposed and fatal to a candidate's chances for election.
But this might be wrong. Certainly, voters that know the principles on which our government operates would be unlikely to support a candidate that clearly knows less of that than they do. But voters who know as little as the candidate may find his or her glorious promises, made in glorious ignorance, appealing. And to them, the other candidates, whose speech is restrained by their knowledge of Constitutional constraints and the realities of government, would seem stodgy and uninspiring.
Then in theory at least, a candidate's ignorance might turn out to be an advantage. It depends on the numbers. Where could we look for evidence that this actually happens?
A candidate lacking in basic knowledge would tend to avoid factual statements and numerical data, yet from ignorance will occasionally make demonstrably false assertions. And there will be accusations that his or her promises have no possibility of realization, and so must be lies.
Can a promise really be called a lie? One type of promise is simply forecast: "There will be..." A more common form announces intention, "I will..." Both are statements about the future; they must be seen as beliefs. When spoken, they cannot easily be called lies.
Can a promise really be called a lie? One form of promise is simply forecast: "There will be..." A more common form announces intention, "I will..." The truth of both types will be known only in the future; at the time they're spoken, they're beliefs, not easily called lies.
When the future unfolds, the difference between the two forms appears. If a prediction doesn't come true, it is still seen as a belief —mistaken, perhaps excusable for an unexpected turn of events, but not a lie. On the other hand, if a declared intention is not fulfilled, it is easily assumed that the intention never existed; it was a lie.
During the campaign, Trump promised that as president he would repeal Obamacare and replace it with "something better." He was criticized for this, because he never described his plan or specified in what way it would be better. His critics did not believe he could deliver "something better," yet they could not call his promise a lie, since he obviously believed he could.
And afterwards, when the future became reality, his promise was seen to be broken. Congress did not pass his plan; his own party was not unanimous in support. Yet because he acted to fulfill his intention, his promise was not a lie.
His promises on immigration are different.
MEXICO WILL PAY...WHY?
In the 2016 presidential campaigns, illegal immigration was a large issue. Every candidate in the primaries —Republican and Democrat alike— advocated stronger border security. So 'border security' itself is not a divisive issue; it is actually one that might have resulted in bipartisan action, cooperation, in Congress.
But Donald Trump distinguished himself as a candidate by going further, claiming that a wall was required, and that he would build it and Mexico would pay for it.
These claims were cheered by his supporters, and brought the charge of lying from his critics.
What kind of statement is his claim that Mexico will pay for the wall? It is a promise, but is it a prediction, an assertion that it's going to happen as a matter of course, determined by an accepted principle of international relations? There is no such principle.
Suppose some number of people in the United States —citizens or illegal immigrants from Central America— unhappy with their situation here, began sneaking across the border into Canada. And suppose the Canadian government then demanded that the United States pay for a wall on the Canadian side of the border to keep them out.
Would the United States agree to this? It's an absurdity. It's impossible to imagine any argument Canada could make that we had that obligation. Every nation is responsible for defending its own borders.
There's no precedent in international relations for this kind of payment. It's Trump's own original idea, which apparently applies uniquely to the case of Mexico and the United States.
On the surface, it's a statement about economics. The wall will not be a burden for American taxpayers because Donald Trump has found alternative financing. We should cheer, we're going to have it for free.
But "Mexico's going to pay for it!" is in no way an announcement that Mexico has agreed to pay. Trump's tone clearly signals that it's a demand. Mexico will pay whether they want to or not —no ifs ands or buts.
The message signals Trump's dominance and raw power, and announces his intention; he will make Mexico pay.
Is there any moral justification for such coercion?
Some of Trump's fans, reveling vicariously in his power, might be happy to see America acting like a schoolyard bully taking the lunch money of a smaller kid, just because he can.
But extortion is incompatible with the ideals of civilized nations. The promise that Mexico will pay cannot be credible unless the demand that Mexico must pay is justified.
In other words, Trump knew —or should have known— that he cannot force Mexico to pay without justification. If he has a justification in mind, he hasn't articulated it.
But it might be evident from his campaign themes.
CAMPAIGN THEMES
In June, 2015, Trump came down to the lobby of his 58-story tower on Fifth Avenue (where he lives on the 66th floor) to make the speech announcing the opening of his presidential campaign.
He began by complaining that in trade relations, America doesn't win any more; China is beating us, Japan is beating us. Then he turned his attention to Mexico, as follows:
“When do we beat Mexico at the border? They're laughing at us, at our stupidity. And now they are beating us economically. They are not our friend, believe me. But they're killing us economically. The U.S. has become a dumping ground for everybody else's problems.
“Thank you. It's true, and these [indicating his audience] are the best and the finest. When Mexico sends its people, they're not sending their best. They're not sending you. They're not sending you. They're sending people that have lots of problems, and they're bringing those problems with us. They're bringing drugs. They're bringing crime. They're rapists. And some, I assume, are good people.
“But I speak to border guards and they tell us what we're getting. And it only makes common sense. It only makes common sense. They're sending us not the right people.
“It's coming from more than Mexico. It's coming from all over South and Latin America, and it's coming probably— probably— from the Middle East. But we don't know. Because we have no protection and we have no competence, we don't know what's happening. And it's got to stop and it's got to stop fast.”
He was speaking extemporaneously, expressing beliefs. His words should be carefully considered.
His first topic was trade. He might have made his point in the following way: "Our trade relations with Mexico are all in their favor. They out-negotiated us, you have to hand it to them. As a great deal-maker I can see they clearly had a 'Mexico First' policy, and that's exactly what we need. Except in our case it would be 'America First.'"
But no, that's not his attitude. Because they're winning, Mexico is cast as a villain; the proof is that they're laughing at us.
And though it is true that Mexico is not our friend, when Trump says it and adds, "believe me," he means you must believe much more than his actual words. It's much darker, you don't even want to know. He leaves it to your imagination.
Trump has refined to a high degree the salesman's skill of creating assent indirectly, through the acceptance of unspoken assumptions. If one hasn't heard a claim before, considered it and become familiar with a counter-argument, then simply understanding his articulation of it requires accepting the assumptions on which its meaning depends.
For example, consider how one reacts to hearing the clause, "When Mexico sends its people... " You can't critique it, because it's just a setup for the main part of the assertion yet to come. But you get that it's limiting that assertion to the occasions when Mexico sends its people. This might not be all of the time, but the word when indicates that it must be at least some of the time, or else there's nothing to talk about.
Or perhaps when does not actually refer to time, but has the sense of a supposition, as in 'when it's assumed...' In that case, we're assuming the actuality of Mexico sending its people, within the conceptual domain in which it might or might not be.
Either way, you have to hold off your critique until you hear the rest of the assertion, "...they're not sending their best." Well, of course they aren't. If we were sending our people, we would only send the ones we want to get rid of, too. It only makes sense.
So there's a sense of logic to it. But the intended sense of when should have been clarified in the second clause. We should have had either, "When Mexico sends its people, they don't send their best" or "When Mexico sends its people, they wouldn't send their best."
Either way would leave open the question of whether they actually are sending their people. But when we get the unexpected shift to present reality, "they're not sending their best," there's a sense of ungrammaticalness, but resolved with the entire statement cast in the present tense.
It has the force of a logical proposition based on fact; Mexico is sending criminals. Trump reaffirms it, “It only makes common sense. They're sending us not the right people.”
SENDING?
Younger people might take the word sending simply as a poetic framing of the migration phenomenon. Conditions in Mexico or perhaps the Mexican government —it's not clear which— are causing people to move, sending them away. But since they're coming to the U.S., it might just as fairly be said that the U.S. is attracting them.
So Trump might have said, "When we attract Mexico's people, we're not attracting their best." It's the mirror image of Trump's version, and just as true or untrue, but doesn't support his emotional bias.
But to older folk, sending has resonance with the past. A short review of history will bring the Millennials up to speed.
In 1980, the Cuban dictator Fidel Castro was in a public relations spat with the United States. Some Cuban citizens, feeling oppressed in Castro's regime, were escaping to the United States in small boats. These were in fact illegal immigrants, but they were celebrated by U.S. media as refugees. Their complaints against Castro's Communist regime were widely publicized as evidence of the evils of Communism.
Their stories also highlighted their dramatic evasions of the Cuban security forces, which were necessary because it was illegal to leave Cuba. The publicity was bad for Cuba; it framed the whole nation as a prison.
So Castro responded with an edict that anyone who wanted to leave was free to do so. Many did, cramming into small boats in what became known as the Mariel Boatlift. But Castro took advantage of the situation by vacating his prisons and mental institutions. Many rapists, robbers, murderers, assorted sociopaths and violent psychotics were put on small boats and pushed off toward Florida.
It was a double win for Castro, relieving him of the expense of maintaining them and giving the U.S., which he hated, a lot of problems. Cuba was clearly not sending its best. It was sending the worst it had.
The Mariel Boatlift, which Trump certainly remembers, is the model of the reality that "sending" conjures, with Mexico cast the in the role of villain.
His next statement amplifies the charge. “They're sending people that have lots of problems, and they're bringing those problems with us. They're bringing drugs. They're bringing crime. They're rapists. And some, I assume, are good people.”
Actually, they were bringing those problems with them or to us. But significantly, notice that there is no assuming that they're rapists; that is stated as fact. His only uncertainty is whether some might not be.
RAPISTS?
But why "rapists"? Why not robbers, murderers, pederasts, arsonists, Ponzi-schemers, insider-traders? Why were rapists the only type of criminal he mentioned?
We can only speculate, but history might again illuminate. So for the benefit of the younger folk, a review of history is in order, with Donald Trump playing a role.
In 1989, a young woman jogging in Central Park was brutally assaulted, raped, and left in a coma.
After some investigation, the police arrested five boys of ages 14 to 16, and charged them with the crime. The lurid crime story was in all the news. The victim became known as "the Central Park Jogger," the accused were called "the Central Park Five."
In the heat of the media frenzy, Donald Trump, who was then a self-promoting real estate developer and not politically active, took out full-page ads in the four major New York newspapers, calling for the reinstatement of the death penalty.
His ad said, in part, “At what point did we cross the line from the fine and noble pursuit of genuine civil liberties to the reckless and dangerous atmosphere which allows criminals of every age to beat and rape a helpless woman and then laugh at her family's anguish? And why do they laugh? They laugh because they know that soon, very soon, they will be returned to the streets to rape and maim and kill once again —and yet face no great personal risk to themselves.”
In the interest of accuracy, it must be noted that in the news coverage of this horrific crime and the arrest of five boys, for rape, assault, attempted murder and potentially for murder, no one had been reported to be laughing.
Trump's ad also said, “I want to hate these muggers and murderers. They should be forced to suffer and, when they kill, they should be executed for their crimes. They must serve as examples so that others will think long and hard before committing a crime or an act of violence. Yes, Mayor Koch, I want to hate these murderers and I always will.”
In a televised interview shortly after, Trump defended the ad, saying, “Of course I hate these people and let's all hate these people because maybe hate is what we need if we're gonna get something done.” This is certainly not an original idea historically, yet he did not offer any example from history where hate had gotten something done.
But he was proud of his ad. He said, “I have never done anything that's caused a more positive stir. I've had 15,000 — 15,000 — letters in the last week and a half. I don't know of more than two or three that were negative out of 15,000.” Truly an unbelievably high rate of approval.
The boys confessed to the crime, but then later tried to rescind their confessions, claiming they confessed only out fear of the death penalty if the victim died. But the victim recovered, without being able to recall any of the details of the attack. In spite of their attempts to take back their confessions, and in spite of the failure of DNA evidence to link them to the victim, the boys were found guilty, in two trials, and sentenced to long prison terms.
A decade later, in 2001, a man in prison for murder confessed to the attack on the Central Park Jogger, and the DNA test corroborated his confession. After some legal wrangling, the young men who had been found guilty were exonerated.
There were then calls for Trump to apologize for his ad. He didn't. He said, “If they were innocent, why did they confess to the crime?” It was apparently a rhetorical question. It's possible someone might have offered the reason the accused gave at the trial —that they were afraid of the death penalty— and might even have suggested that his ad might have been a factor in that. But there's no record of it, nor of Trump's response.
The young men subsequently sued the city, and after much litigation, the city settled the case in 2014 for forty-one million dollars.
This greatly displeased Donald Trump. He wrote an op-ed in the Daily News to protest the settlement. It said, in part, “Forty million dollars is a lot of money for the taxpayers of New York to pay when we are already the highest taxed city and state in the country. The recipients must be laughing out loud at the stupidity of the city. Speak to the detectives on the case and try listening to the facts. These young men do not exactly have the pasts of angels.”
NOT EVEN PAST
The past always seems more pleasant than it seemed when it was the present, because our memories cherish the good times and the victories, and obliterate the defeats. One might wonder how Donald Trump remembers these episodes. By his own testimony, he received great public acclaim for his strong stand against rapists; the inconvenient fact that they turned out not to be rapists after all seems not to have bothered him.
So rapists might occupy a special place in his mind; a universally despised evil, the hatred of which will bring him universal approval. And the takeaway could be that once hatred is stirred with an accusation of rape, it will not be necessary to prove the accusation.
There is no evidence that there are any more rapists among the migrants than among any other group. In fact, government statics show that there is less crime overall among immigrants, both legal and illegal, than among the general population.
What evidence does Trump offer? “But I speak to border guards and they tell us what we're getting.” Of course, he did not read the boring statistics in the crime studies. Anecdotal evidence is more dramatic.
And then his next point: “It's coming from more than Mexico. It's coming from all over South and Latin America, and it's coming probably— probably— from the Middle East. But we don't know. Because we have no protection and we have no competence, we don't know what's happening. And it's got to stop and it's got to stop fast.”
Does there appear to be a contradiction between "...they tell us what we're getting" and "...we don't know what's happening"? It can be resolved. The guards have caught migrants "from all over South and Latin America" and found them to be rapists and other criminals. But they don't catch them all, and the ones that get through —what we're getting— are assumed to be of the same ilk.
But none at all "from the Middle East" have been caught, so it's only a theoretical possibility —but we don't know— that there are such. But if so, they're surely getting through, because we haven't caught any.
How is a theoretical possibility, "but we don't know," elevated to "probably— probably"? To get this, you have to think like a terrorist. If hoards of Latin Americans are swarming across the border, then the terrorists from the Middle East will "probably" figure out that all they need to do is get to Mexico, take off their turbans and put on sombreros and blend in with the crowd. "It only makes common sense."
But this line of thought might also suggest that the terrorists have considered the option of sneaking into the U.S. from Canada. That way has advantages: the border is longer and less guarded and they'd need to learn only one foreign language.
So they're "probably— probably" coming in from Canada, too. If not, they certainly will after the wall on the Mexican border blocks that route. And that idea would lead to the inevitable next step: we need a long wall on the Canadian border —and Canada must pay for it.
Of course, this is a frivolous idea. It's not serious, like the threat of real terrorists that could be coming across the Mexican border. “Because we have no protection and we have no competence, we don't know what's happening. And it's got to stop and it's got to stop fast.”
Taken as a whole, Trump's speech is a vilification of Mexico, the creation of an enemy. Our problems —economic woes, unfair trade relations, illegal immigration, drugs, crime, and terrorism— are all made to be Mexico's fault. He believes and wants us all to believe that Mexico is bad, so there's no moral problem with punishing Mexico.
INTERNATIONAL SANCTIONS
When the U.S. government determines that a disagreement with another nation can be resolved only by a change in that nation's behaviors the government will use sanctions before resorting to military force, to effect the change.
Since Trump has made Mexico a villain, apparently for "sending" us criminals, it would seem that economic sanctions —restrictions on trade and financial transactions— would be the appropriate means to end that offensive behavior.
But sanctions must be justified by a clear statement identifying the specific behavior that must be changed, and the conditions under which the sanctions will be lifted. And they are more effective when other nations join in imposing them; that means making the case that ending the offensive behavior is in the interest of all nations.
But Trump has not suggested sanctions. Perhaps he foresees the difficulty of drafting a U.N. speech that would prove his case and pressure Mexico to pay for the wall —and yet not raise the ethical question of the economical benefit to the nation demanding sanctions.
None the less, there is a suggestion of force in "Mexico will pay."
MEXICO WILL PAY ...FOR WHAT?
When you pay a fine for a violation you're not buying it, you're being punished for it. If you burn someone's house down, you might pay for your crime with time in jail; that is not the same thing as paying for the house. Paying is punishment, a way of discouraging unacceptable behavior.
So when Mexico is made into a villain, it makes sense to talk about Mexico paying. But paying for what? For our wall, or for its bad behavior —"sending us not the right people"?
Trump seems to mean both; Mexico must pay as punishment for bad behavior, and pay for our wall to protect us from their bad people.
But taken separately, neither is justified. Mexico is not "sending" criminals, nor is it "sending" drugs, nor even "killing" us in trade. And the U.S, like every nation, is responsible for defending its own borders, including building the required infrastructure.
Trump's demand rests on a muddled mashup of two invalid arguments.
MEXICO WILL PAY ...HOW?
Donald Trump now says Mexico will pay for the wall through tariffs. He does not specify whether by "Mexico" he means the government —with which he can make deals— or the nation —over which he has only an indirect and uncertain influence. But either way, the statement is false.
Neither governments nor nations pay tariffs. Tariffs are taxes levied on goods crossing the border; they are paid by businesses in international trade. If a tariff is imposed on Mexican goods, it will be paid by American importers or Mexican exporters, or shared by both, as a cost of doing business across the border.
"Mexico" —either way you consider it— does not pay the tariff.
And when a tariff is levied on goods produced in Mexico, both American importers and Mexican exporters must cover the tariff by raising the prices they charge the American consumers. American consumers pay the tariff indirectly.
"Mexico" does not pay the tariff —neither directly nor indirectly.
Another effect of the tariff will be that the higher prices of the Mexican goods will allow the U,S. producers of those goods to raise their prices too, increasing their profits. This is why American producers —manufacturing, agriculture, mining or whatever— favor tariffs on the importation of products competing with their own.
So an indirect cost of the tariff is the increased prices that American consumers pay to the American producers of the Mexican product. This cost does not go towards paying the tariff; it goes towards the companies' profits.
But the American importing and Mexican exporting companies will be stressed by both the cost of the tariff and the loss of sales due to the higher prices they must charge. If it becomes impossible for either one to profit, the business will be ended and the companies will suffer.
And if the tariff is high enough to make profit impossible for anyone, importation of the product will cease altogether, and no tariff is paid at all. Yet the indirect cost of the tariff —higher prices paid by American consumers— remains.
The question of who pays the tariff —the tax itself— is a small part of the larger question of who bears the cost of the economic disruption caused by the tariff? Or loosely speaking, who pays for the tariff? The answer is, American consumers and importers, and Mexican producers and exporters. Not "Mexico."
Notice how the word pays, here, does not mean an exchange of money for some other value. It now has the sense of suffering, only.
Mexico does not pay the tariff nor does it pay for the tariff. But still, Trump claims, "Mexico will pay for the wall — through tariffs." How does this work? The effect of the tariff in Mexico is that its exporters will suffer reduced sales. If you total up the economic loss of the exporting companies, and call it "Mexico's" loss, then you can say "Mexico" is "paying" in the sense that the nation is suffering.
But paying for the wall through tariffs would require an accounting that aggregates the losses to the Mexican companies into one account, converts it from a negative to a positive, and then turns it over to the United States Government to finance the construction of the wall.
This can happen only in the realm of pure fantasy.
... HERE'S HOW
None the less, this is Trump's promise! So if you really really need to believe it can be done— here's how. First, reduce all trade between the U.S. and Mexico to a single number, computed as follows: total up the dollar value of all that the U.S, companies sell in Mexico; then subtract from that the total amount that Mexican companies sell in the U.S. This is the "balance of payments." When it's positive, we sell more to Mexico than they sell to us. If it's negative, the opposite.
To get this one number, you must ignore the vast complexity of the internal economies of each nation, ignore the minor role that the cross-border trade plays in the large economies, ignore the growth or contraction of economic activity in each, ignore the the relative valuations of two currencies, ignore the increase of consumer prices and business profits, ignore the nature of the cross-border trade —what the goods are, what their effect and importance is to the economy— and ignore the effects of competing trade with all other nations.
Then you've reduced trade between the two nations to the score of a zero-sum game. The U.S. tries to keep the balance of payments positive and as high as possible; Mexico would like to like to keep it negative (which is positive for their version of the number) and as low as possible. Any change in the number that's good for us is bad for them, and vise versa.
Then: a tariff on Mexican products will reduce Mexican sales in the U.S. Because the Mexican sales figure is subtracted, its reduction results in an increase in our balance of payments figure. The negative —losses to Mexico's companies and harm to its economy— becomes a positive —for us.
The change in this accounting number cannot be turned into cash and given to the U.S. to pay for the wall. But, if a positive change should occur, it will allow Trump to ballyhoo that "Mexico" is "paying for the wall," distracting citizens from noticing that he's really asking Congress to pay for it with taxpayer's money.
And Trump certainly will make that claim, if the tariff has only the effects described so far. But there's one more effect, not yet mentioned. If the U.S. imposes a tariff on a product that Mexico exports to the U.S., Mexico will have every right to —and certainly will— impose a tariff on a product that the U.S. exports to Mexico. This will reduce U.S. sales in Mexico and undo the positive change in the balance of payments.
As a result, both U.S. and Mexican producers sell less in each other's country, harming both economies. If the harm to each is equal, the balance of payments will not change, and not even an accounting trick will support an illusion that Mexico is paying for the wall.
IN ALL FAIRNESS
Trump was probably referring to a negative balance of payments with Mexico when he said, "they're killing us economically." He apparently believes that the reason for the negative value is that our trade agreements are too much in Mexico's favor. If that's true, they should be adjusted. Trump also claims our agreements with China and Japan are too favorable to them; then they too should be adjusted.
These adjustments have nothing to do with a wall.
On what basis can we negotiate for an adjustment? Fairness. We can only argue that the trade agreements must be fair to both sides. This applies to our negotiations with Mexico as well as all others. But Trump cannot argue for fairness in our agreements with Mexico when he's already announced that the agreement must result in an advantage to us large enough to count as payment for our wall.
Realists may scoff at the idea that fairness plays any part in trade negotiations. Every nation has internal forces defending the interests of the various sectors of its economy —manufacturing, oil, coal, agriculture, finance or whatever. They all have influence, and some might have very strong political influence over their government, to the point of making their desires nonnegotiable demands.
So it is the self-interest of particular companies or associations of them, not fairness, that sets the agenda for a nation's policy on international trade.
There is that point. However, the perception of unfairness is a strong force. The belief that you are being unfairly dealt with will spur you to more aggressive responses; even to the point of actions of no benefit to you but harmful to your opponent; even to spiteful acts —harmful to yourself but perceived to be more harmful to your antagonist.
And this applies to institutions as well as individuals.
Absolutely, the unfairness of tariffs to satisfy an unprecedented unilateral demand by the U.S. for payment with no moral justification will be noted and widely publicized by "Mexico." It will inevitably make trade negotiations between the two nations rancorous and unlikely to result in any advantage to the U.S.
Even so, it's not impossible that new trade agreements with Mexico could increase our balance of payments. But that would not constitute payment for the wall. In fact, it would be in spite of, rather than because of Trump's demand for payment for the wall.
Meanwhile, American citizens will have paid for the wall with their taxes, and paid for the tariff with higher prices. And they won't be reimbursed.
WHAT HE KNEW OR SHOULD HAVE KNOWN
Trump promised to repeal and replace Obamacare with "something better," without showing that he had any idea of what that would be, or even that he understood that health care was a hard problem. The sincerity of his promise rested on his unbounded faith in his own ability to make deals.
And then as President, he went through the motions of keeping his promise. Together with the Republican Party leaders, he cobbled together a plan. It failed in the Republican-majority Senate; too bad. But his promise was sincere.
"Mexico will pay for the wall" is similar; a brash promise with no elaboration nor detail to make it credible. Trump has as much expertise in international relations as he has in health care: exactly none. If his promise was sincere, it was sincere only because he believed he could make it happen.
But for this promise, he didn't even try. For two years, he dithered. He did nothing about getting Mexico to pay for the wall. Of course, whatever he might have done towards that end would have been absurd, futile and humiliating, but that was inevitable, because he has no justification for making that demand.
And for two years, with Republican majorities in both houses of Congress, he did not ask Congress for funding for the wall. In all fairness, how could he? He'd promised Mexico would pay!
For two years, he was silent about funding for the wall. Was he possibly waiting for the nation to forget the promise that he repeated hundreds of times in his campaign speeches, that Mexico would pay for the wall?
And it's only now, after he's lost the majority in the House, that he's demanding that Congress fund the wall — explicitly reneging on his promise that Mexico would pay.
But now he has a foil; he can blame —the Democrats!
THE CONVERSATION ENDS; THE DEBATE GOES ON
Trump's promise that Mexico would pay for the wall was a lie. He knew or should have known that Mexico would not pay without a reason. And he had no reason.
And the believers of the lie will now be treated to endless denials, distractions, evasions, elaborations and revisions of the lie.
Must it be mentioned once again, the tenacity of those who have been fooled by a lie, to hold on to and defend the foolishness they believed? The eagerness to accept ever more foolishness rather than to admit to being fooled?
—Sigmund Noetzel