How Hypocrisy became Normalized

U.S. President Donald Trump speaking at a White House press conference (Photo: Andrew Harnik)

Two weeks ago, the man whose campaign mantra was, “No new wars” started bombing Iran. On the same day, Trump was asked about his intentions for Cuba. He replied, “I do believe I’ll be having the honor of taking Cuba.” The honor of “taking Cuba”? Forget Trump’s awkward, self-referential terms for thinking about a possible war—take note of the hypocrisy, because no one else did.

Accusing someone of hypocrisy used to be words, capable of detonating a friendship or even a political career. Like vulgar incendiary speech, saying one thing and doing another was regarded as clear evidence of a character flaw. Not any longer.

But in the days when the content of a person’s character mattered hypocrisy was taken seriously. When Richard Nixon, elected as a law-and-order president, was revealed to have broken the law by participating in the Watergate cover-up, the result wasn’t a collective shrug but a national crisis. Nixon became “Tricky Dick,” and his popularity plummeted.

Back then, going back on your word demanded a reckoning. At the 1988 Republican Convention, George Herbert Bush famously promised, “Read my lips: no new taxes.” Once elected, President Bush felt compelled to sign on to a deal that raised taxes. No question about it, his hypocrisy contributed to his 1992 loss to Bill Clinton.

At a press conference in January 1996, when asked about his relationship with White House intern Monica Lewinsky, Bill Clinton stared into the cameras and insisted, “I did not have sexual relations with that woman.” Soon afterward, evidence emerged proving that Clinton and Lewinsky had several dalliances. The fallout was thunderous. Clinton apologized and then embarrassed himself further with hair-splitting evasions: “It depends on what you mean by sex.” With his dalliances and double standards, the man from Hope galvanized the right and, I believe, helped put George W. Bush in the White House.

There was a sting to being exposed as a hypocrite. Now politics is about deals, not the content of our character. The MAGA faithful couldn’t care less that Trump vowed to be tough on crime even as he pardoned participants in the January 6 attack—many of whom went on to commit other crimes. With all his fuming about drugs, Trump pardoned Juan Orlando Hernández, the former president of Honduras convicted in the United States on drug trafficking charges and sentenced to 45 years in prison. There was barely a peep from his MAGA base.

Trump 2.0 has become a cheerleader for the military, constantly bragging that our armed forces are “the best in the world”—no, “the best in history.” A change in tune from his first run for office. Back then, the future commander-in-chief delivered a different verdict: “Only losers join the military.” In real life terms it’s hard to call his former stance hypocrisy since neither Trump nor any of his children have ever served in uniform.

Thanks to Trump’s political sorcery, a politico’s mettle or lack thereof no longer seems to matter to a large segment of American voters. You can lie, distort the facts, make promises you have no intention of keeping, say outrageous and repugnant things and none of it sticks. As Trump once boasted, “I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody, and I wouldn’t lose any voters.”

Trump aside we are witnessing the erosion of a deep-seated conviction that words mean something. In 2016, J.D. Vance suggested that Trump might be “America’s Hitler.” A few years later, with his eye on the power prize, Vance morphed into one of Trump’s most ardent supporters. During the Republican primaries, Marco Rubio mocked Trump as a natural con man, a man who stripped of his inherited wealth, would be “selling watches on a street corner.” Months later, prospect of power in view, Rubio was on television insisting, “We need Trump as president.”

Language and reality have been decoupled. Now hypocrisy barely registers as a glitch. Our word is no longer our bond. Everything, war and peace included, has become a deal, and deals can always be broken.

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This article is written by Gordon Marino, Professor Emeritus of Philosophy at St. Olaf College. He holds a doctorate from the Committee on Social Thought at the University of Chicago. His work has appeared in the Wall Street Journal, New York Times Magazine, The New York Times, Newsweek, The Atlantic, and other outlets.