The Implosion of the Moral Third: Moral Omnipotence in the Era of Horror About Donald Trump

Abstract

This article, while unsympathetic to Donald Trump, critiques the frequent tone of moral omnipotence and narcissistic display of good-heartedness in much current political discourse in the American psychoanalytic community. The author argues, from the perspective of a Scandinavian psychoanalyst, that the United States violated basic human rights long before the Trump era, and that the problems with the Trump era lie on a continuum with what came before, rather than suddenly crossing an unacceptable line. It suggests that there are dangers in seeing a bad other, rather than exploring our own dominant behavior. Invoking Akhtar´s term "beguiling generosity," the author cites studies of "moral self-licensing" that suggest that, paradoxically, people who commit a self-consciously ethical act tend to feel free to behave unethically afterward. It explores some dangers in taking satisfaction for being the good, critical anti-Trump voice. "I recently visited the Civil Rights museum in Greensboro, North Carolina. On February 1, 1960, four brave young black men in that town refused to respect the "Whites only" rule that prohibited their eating at lunch counters alongside White people and started a sit-in movement that echoed throughout the United States. It marked the beginning of the Civil Rights and Black Power movements, including the 1963 Civil Rights March and Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech. The museum affected me strongly. I found myself fighting back tears during the whole tour. I did not want to cry in public. My Whiteness burned on my skin as I determinedly swallowed the lump in my throat. So much unfairness, so much violence, so much oppression, so much White narcissism. Room after room with unbearable stories. The impact of colonization and slavery was breathing down on me heavily. There were eight people in our group, all White, guided from room to room. I knew none of the others. In one room we were asked to do the literacy test that all African Americans had had to pass as a condition of voting. All of us failed the test. I think I got only two questions right. This was the point at which I could not hold back my tears. Who had invented this sadistic test? How many people took it and felt stupid? So much violence just in words. We moved into yet another room. A huge American flag hang on the wall. It was artfully lit, and the wall behind it featured important names in gold. The Black male guide asked, in that theatrical, solemn voice that only some Americans can produce: "How do you feel about this flag?" I woke up from my thoughts as I realized he was gesturing to me, and I said the first word that came to me: "Imperialism!" To my surprise, everyone in the room suddenly seemed uncomfortable. The guide seemed to feel he needed to smooth over my rudeness and said something conciliating, like "That's certainly an opinion, too," and then he quickly pointed at the others, one by one, who then expressed their feelings about the American flag. I realized that I had ruined the script. This was the point ...

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