Decades from now, when the postwar baby-boomer set who defined turn-of-the century American politics – the Bushes, the Clintons, Joe Biden, Nancy Pelosi and Bernie and Rumsfeld and all of that gang – are long dead, the historical-verdict fascination with Donald Trump may be framed around his unique monomaniacal ability to reduce the entire spectacle into a non-stop television reality show starring himself. Or perhaps, more accurately, to strip away the delusion that it hadn’t been so for decades.
On Tuesday night, in the House chamber, Trump gave what was recorded as the longest state of the union speech in presidential history, coming in at one hour and 48 minutes. It exceeded the address given a year ago, before a joint session of the US Congress, by one Donald J Trump.
The 47th president arrived on Capitol Hill chastened by the recent Supreme Court nullification of his tariff policy and with bleak polling numbers, an eve-of-speech Ipsos poll recording a disapproval rate of 60 per cent, his highest since the days after the January 6th, 2021, attack on the very building in which he now took centre stage.
The predictions were that a seething Trump might take vengeance on the Supreme Court members with a verbal broadside, or make alarming declarations in relation to Iran. It emerged beforehand that 73 Democratic members of congress had elected to boycott the speech. The party’s House leader, Hakeem Jeffries, had instructed those who would attend not to protest. It almost worked: Al Green, who was ejected from the chamber while protesting against Trump a year ago, lasted just two minutes this time round after wielding a sign reading: Black People Aren’t Apes.
But it was an occasion when an embattled Trump was persuaded to listen to his fight corner and stuck to the plan. On the night, he was restrained. He shook hands with all four of the Supreme Court justices present – chief justice John Roberts, Elena Kagan, Amy Coney Barrett and Brett Kavanaugh. In the audience were a series of invited guests whose stories of valour and heartbreak and economic renaissance would resonate in ordinary homes across America. The grovelling billionaire class who gathered around Trump at the inauguration could not get a ticket for this one.
“Our nation is back: bigger, better, richer and stronger than ever before,” Trump said to open his address.
“Less than five months from now our country will celebrate an epic milestone: the 250th anniversary of our glorious American independence. This July 4th we will mark two-and-a-half centuries of liberty and triumph, progress and freedom in the most incredible and exceptional nation ever to exist on the face of the Earth. And you’ve seen nothing yet. This is the golden age of America.”
Had the speech ended there, it might have been an unqualified triumph. But Trump can never resist giving the people a glimpse into the horrors of the country during his four-year banishment in Mar-a Lago.
“When I last spoke at this chamber 12 months ago I had just inherited a nation in crisis with a stagnant economy, inflation at record levels, a wide open border, horrendous recruitment for military and police, rampant crime at home and wars and chaos all over the world. But tonight after just one year I can say with dignity and pride we have achieved a transformation like no one has ever seen before. It is indeed a turnaround for the ages.”
There is no question Trump believes this. He spent the next hour leaning into those accomplishments, from fentanyl down 56 per cent to gasoline at just $1.85 (at a certain unnamed station somewhere in Iowa), crime at its lowest level since 1900, falling electricity bills, the southern border sealed, the Democrat DEI [diversity, equity, and inclusion] obsession ended, the stunningly clean military strikes in Iran and Venezuela and his insistence on the glowing success of his tariff policy, the “unfortunate decision” by the Supreme Court notwithstanding.
It was a message designed to reinvigorate his supporters throughout the Republican heartland states. The question is whether they can reconcile his message of prosperity with their kitchen-table economics. If the golden age has arrived, is this as good as it gets?
Twice, to his surprise, the Democrat side of the chamber stood to applaud: when the US Olympic gold medal hockey team was honoured and, later, when he called for congress to pass the Stop Insider Trading Act.
“They stood up for that,” Trump marvelled. “I can’t believe it.” Earlier, during the interminable hours of network preview shows, podcaster Katie Miller – whose husband is policy architect Steven Miller – gave this garbled preview to Jesse Watters, the smirky Fox evening anchor.
“We have record low border crossings, the highest stock market in American history, lowest violent crime in our country … there are so many powerful stories tonight and I think what we are going to see tonight … are the Democrats going to sit down for the American people or stand up for victims of illegal immigration? Are they going to sit down as America was just unified watching American hockey win over Canada or are they going to continue to sit down and sit for the American people?
“It’s a choice: are they standing for American people or standing with American people, or for Somali fraudsters and those who want to scam and pillage our country. And I think that’s what you are going to see tonight: through the president’s guests is the opportunity to see where the Democrats sit down and president Trump stands up.”
Even Watters seemed lost as to who should stand up when after Miller had finished. But it became clear that Miller had an inside track on Trump’s speech. Pointedly, the president asked the Democrats to stand if they agreed with the statement “the first duty of the American government is to protect American citizens and not illegal aliens.” The legislators to his left remained seated. Nor did they stand when he called for support for the Save America Act on voter ID and proof of citizenship. When Trump launched his latest attack on the Somali population in Minnesota, state Democratic representative Ilhan Omar shouted towards the lectern: “You have killed Americans.”
Later Trump became vexed when the Democrats declined to stand in relation to family members bereaved through murders whose terrible circumstances were held up to support Trump’s dismal demonisation of immigrant groups in general.
“And nobody stands up. These people are crazy. I’m tellin’ ya. They’re crazy.”
If there was a moment when the silent resolve of those Democrats present might have broken, this was it. But it passed. Trump moved on to accomplishments of the generation before his own, the last of the Silent Generation, honouring two centenarian war heroes. The second of those, Royce Willams, is a second World War and Korean War veteran whose plane took 263 bullets during “the dogfight of a lifetime”.
For half a century, he told nobody about it, but in his later years, the truth of his heroics rose to the surface.
“Tonight at 100 years old this brave Navy captain is finally getting the honour he deserves,” Trump said.
For a few minutes of sustained applause, the bitterness was set aside. Everyone in the the House stood. Williams’s face was wonderful in that moment: somehow fresh at a century, warm, proud, optimistic. He was born into the United States in the same year as Marilyn Monroe. Calvin Coolidge was president. Abraham Lincoln’s son Robert Todd had passed away, as had Wild West sharpshooter Annie Oakley.
That lifespan felt significant in an era of such exhausting and poisoned political discourse, when the future of the country and its democratic values are the source of non-stop embittered debate and contention. You would sense that Royce Williams has faith that the republic will be fine long after Donald Trump has departed and the crowd finished shouting, and this night forgotten.