An obvious characteristic of a kakistocrat is inserting unqualified loyalists into positions of power. Nepotism and kakistocracy go hand-in-hand. And we can watch how that plays out as Trump attempts to get his daughter-in-law, Lara, into the U.S. Senate. First he appointed a current not-that-loyal senator from her state, Marco Rubio, Secretary of State. Rubio is insane to take the job. Trump’s first Secretary of State, Rex Tillerson, kept the job for 14 months. Other high-level first term appointees had even shorter tenures. But Rubio’s going for it— and making room for Lara Trump.
Ron DeSantis would probably like to put a loyal placeholder into the job until he can run himself in 2026, when he’s termed out of his governor’s job. His chief of staff, James Uthmeier, is the obvious pick but other possibilities include Attorney General Ashley Moody, Lt. Gov Jeannette Nuñez, former state House speaker José Oliva or DeSantis’ wife— Casey. But does DeSantis have what it takes to stand up to Trump? I doubt it.
Trump has ginned up a pressure campaign for Lara— who’s been on Fox every other day pitching herself. Rick Scott, Anna Paulina Luna and senators from neighboring states, Alabama and South Carolina, Lindsey Graham and Katie Britt have all ostentatiously endorsed Lara. She was born and raised in North Carolina until she moved to NYC to attend the French Culinary Institute after college and then found a job working for Fox News. She nearly ran for the open Senate seat in North Carolina in 2021 even though she had moved with the rest of the Trumpanzee klan to Florida.
Of course, nepotism is just one feature of a classic kakistocracy (or kleptocracy, plutocracy, oligarchy, etc). Yesterday Beppe Severgnini compared Berlusconi’s and Trump’s approaches to modern-day kakistocracy. He wrote that Berlusconi, like Trump, “was a right-wing leader capable of attracting the most disappointed and least informed voters, who historically had chosen the left. He chased them, understood them, pampered them, spoiled them with television and soccer. He introduced the insidious dictatorship of sympathy. But Silvio Berlusconi is not Donald Trump. Berlusconi respected alliances and was loyal to his international partners. He loved both Europe and America. He believed in free trade. And he accepted defeat. His appointments were at times bizarre but seldom outrageous. He tried hard to please everybody and to portray himself as a reliable, good-hearted man. Trump, as we know, doesn’t even try.”
Berlusconi may have invented a format, but Trump adopted and twisted it. Trump’s victory on November 5 is clear and instructive, and it gives the whole world a signal as to where America is headed.
The scent of winners is irresistible for some people. The desire to cheer Trump’s victory clouds their view. They don’t see, or perhaps don’t take seriously, the danger signs. Reliability and coherence, until recently a must for a political leader, have taken a back seat. Showing oneself as virtuous risks being counterproductive: It could alienate voters, who would feel belittled.
American journalism— what is left of it, anyway— meticulously chronicled Trump’s deceitfulness. It made no difference, though. On the contrary, it seems to have helped him. Trump’s deputy, J. D. Vance, explained calmly in an interview that misleading people— maybe even lying to them— is sometimes necessary to overcome the hostility of the media.
I’m no better than you. I’m bad. So vote for me! This seems to be the magic new formula of American democracy. Venting and showing off flaws has become a way to reassure those voters— and there are many of them— who hate criticism. He who misbehaves is popular; those who dare to preach become unbearable. People love the Joker, not Batman— the Joker is more fun.
You don’t need to be a historian to know this; just a few history lessons are enough. The people, whether in the Athens of Plato and Demosthenes or in republican Rome, asked for leaders they could admire. This pretense lasted for centuries, in very different places and contexts. The people demanded honesty and sobriety from their leaders. They rarely got it, but at least they asked for it.
Not even dictators escaped the rule. Italy’s own Benito Mussolini did not flaunt his excesses; he pretended to be sober and virtuous, and Italians pretended to believe it. Only autocrats and tyrants continue the farce today. A few weeks ago, the North Korean dictator Kim Jong Un got very angry when flyers rained down on Pyongyang showing his and his family’s luxuries to a very poor nation. Trump would have used them as election posters.
Aristocracy means “government by the best.” Today, we are in a kakistocracy, government by the worst. And tens of millions of American voters are proud of it, or at least happy to appear so. The copyright of this questionable political style belongs at least in part to former British Prime Minister Boris Johnson and Trump himself: Both, in 2016, won by proudly displaying their whims and weaknesses.
… Berlusconi’s shortcomings helped fuel his success, but he wasn’t proud of them. Trump wears his flaws like medals, and is appointing people to his coming administration who have the same attitude. Berlusconi would never have allowed the equivalent of Robert F. Kennedy Jr. near Italy’s department of health. An Italian Matt Gaetz would have been considered for a reality show on one of Berlusconi’s TV channels, at most.
If this is the path that democracy chose, let’s prepare for the worst. It will become impossible to get rid of a leader elected in this way and for these reasons. What do you want from me? they will reply after having disappointed and failed. I told you who I was, and you voted for me with enthusiasm. Now shut up and be good.
