Bullying might work when you’re 12. Does it work when you’re president? | Dave Schilling

Were you bullied as a child? If so, congratulations. You are probably pretty interesting, or maybe you have an extreme body odor problem. Either way, you were noticeable enough to warrant being picked on by someone with extreme self-loathing or an even worse body odor problem. That’s the nature of bullying, though. The fact that you’re a target at all is a sign that something about you is remarkable. Total feckless duds don’t get bullied; they fade into the background, then become Democratic senators.

The aim of the bully is to bring down someone they’re threatened by, to assert their dominance over a person who reflects their insecurities back on them so that they might feel more powerful while applying a vicious wedgie. I wasn’t bullied so much as teased verbally for being eccentric, biracial, vegetarian and not particularly tough. I also had a lisp thanks to having a gap in my front teeth for years prior to my parents mercifully getting me braces in middle school. I was an easy punchline for anyone looking to score points during lunch in the quad.

Bullying is a valuable tool to get what you want when you’re 12, but I’m not so sure that it’s helpful in foreign policy. The second Trump administration has wielded bullying more than ever recently, especially overseas. Threatening Greenland, Canada, immigrants, queer people, and pretty much anyone remotely interesting in the world. Trump’s gone from threatening to revoke Rosie O’Donnell’s citizenship to threatening to wipe Iran off the face of the planet for funsies. The latter threat was, of course, delivered via social media – a communications platform designed primarily for bullying the most people possible. Social media allowed bullying to go global.

Personally, I’m quite glad Trump backed down from subtly waving a nuclear bomb in front of everyone’s face for a moment. It’s good I can put off explaining the concept of the apocalypse to my son for another two weeks. That’s a real plus. But also, I don’t have to tell him that bullying actually works in the adult world, because I don’t think it does. Sure, maybe it works on the playground, in business, the entertainment industry, and sometimes politics, but not *everywhere*.

OK, now that I think about it, that’s a lot of places where it works. But I suppose it depends on your definition of the word “works”. Maybe you get what you want at first – a rush of pride, a few chuckles from your friends, a big promotion at work, attention from strangers on the internet, a fuzzy, fragile ceasefire. Then what?

Trump’s bellicose hectoring and missile-rattling hasn’t brought an end to the violence in Iran. The ceasefire is already looking vulnerable thanks to Israeli strikes in Lebanon. We could (probably) be back to biting our nails by May Day. A successful bully is really just a miserable person who gets to be slightly less miserable for a brief spell. But it’s in our nature as a species to see someone who appears powerful as worth propping up – either out of fear of reprisal or jealousy. I guess it’d be fun to be Donald Trump for a day, slugging back Diet Coke with a stubby, ketchup-smeared finger over the soda-delivery button. Eventually, I’d want to go back to being a normal person who only drinks one Diet Coke per day and doesn’t have the fate of the planet in their hands.

When I do talk to my son about bullying, he seems to understand my perspective on the matter. “Why are people mean like that?” he asks.

“Because they’re actually really lonely and sad,” I respond.

He’s a kind, smart kid who everyone seems to like, but he’s also deeply anxious about breaking the rules. I do wonder sometimes if that’s setting him up for problems as he gets older, when he sees how people profit from doing the wrong thing repeatedly. To overcome a bully, sometimes you have to bully them back, to play the game as they’ve set it up. Part of why the opposition to Donald Trump has flailed around for so long is because they often refuse to get into the mud with him. I’m not suggesting my son karate kick another child, but maybe one day, he might have to.

Even if I don’t think it’s actually effective, this country does reward bullying. Donald Trump’s rise to power started in earnest during a time when television was rife with blustering reality TV show hosts like Gordon Ramsey or Simon Cowell berating people for the amusement of the home audience. We elected Trump to the presidency twice primarily because he promised to force his agenda through by being as aggressive as possible. And he’s lived up to that promise. Things in the United States feel worse than ever, and there’s no sign it’s going to improve any time soon. The strait of Hormuz is still closed. Gas is still over $4 a gallon. America is suffering from Shaken Country Syndrome because the president doesn’t know how to actually accomplish anything without hurling threats at the problem. His voters love him for this, because it reflects their own personal worldview that bullying works, even in the face of objective facts that say it doesn’t.

But back to defining what it means for something to work. Bullying is efficacious for the bully, but not the ones watching it happen – on the playground or in the news. Donald Trump’s methods work for* him*, just like a schoolyard bully’s taunts make them feel better. They don’t work for anyone else. Our lives are not better, our pockets are not fuller, and the rest of the world can’t stand us. The policies of this administration have left us feeling as hollow as the kid giving wedgies once the thrill of the underwear parting their victim’s rear end wears off. Every day, we wake up a bit more diminished, a bit lesser than we were before. Not even a wedgie can solve that.

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Dave Schilling is a Los Angeles-based writer and humorist