Donald Trump, the podium photobomber

The cool kids celebrated their victory, lifting the trophy high, while the Lost Boy hovered among them, hoping to catch a little of their shine.

Everyone seemed to understand that this was Spain’s moment except the one man who had no intention of giving his moment away. 

President Donald Trump lingered on the podium with the vacant confidence of a wedding guest who had wandered into the family photographs and begun arranging the bride’s parents.

Spain had just defeated Argentina 1-0 to become world champions. Trump and FIFA president Gianni Infantino had performed their ceremonial function: they handed over the medals, presented the trophy and were expected to step aside. Infantino attempted to guide Trump away. Trump remained, applauding and smiling, as the Spanish players raised the cup around him.

There was something sad about it certainly but the embarrassment belonged to the rest of us. Trump does not embarrass. Embarrassment requires an awareness that other people exist independently of you, with their own achievements, ceremonies and moments that do not require your face in the middle of them.

The incident was small, ridiculous and almost harmless. It was also a perfect representation of his politics.

Trump does not just participate in history. He photobombs it.

He had been given a place on the podium. He interpreted this as his possession of the podium. 

He had been invited to present the trophy. He behaved as though he had somehow contributed to winning it. 

This is how Trump encounters the world. He enters spaces created by others, ignores the rules by which those spaces operate and then stands in the middle waiting for the applause to find him.

The international order, in Trump’s imagination, is not a community of nations with their own histories, interests and sovereignty. It is a reality TV show and he is the main character. Countries are either loyal supporting actors, treacherous villains or extras who have wandered too close to his camera.

Canada and Mexico helped host the World Cup but Trump still presented the tournament as an American triumph. Spain won the final and Trump joined the team.

The Spanish players discovered what much of the world already knows: when you invite Donald Trump into the building, he will behave as though his name is on it. Sadly, often it is.

Trade is not, for Trump, a complicated network of mutual dependencies. It is a row of foreign governments taking advantage of him personally. Countries do not sell goods to American consumers; they insult Trump. A trade deficit is an injury to his self-esteem.

And so tariffs are announced as punishments. Trade is never merely an exchange between countries. It is a contest in which every foreign advantage becomes evidence that somebody has humiliated America and therefore humiliated Trump.

Last week, his administration imposed a 25% tariff on a broad range of Brazilian exports, citing unfair trade practices. Brazil rejected the accusation and pointed out that it buys more from the United States than it sells there. Yet entire industries may now pay for a quarrel conducted in Trump’s preferred language (not Portuguese!): accusation first, punishment second, negotiation afterwards.

Trump does not simply enter another country’s economy and rearrange the furniture. He sends it a bill and then demands gratitude for his interior-design advice.

The same impulse can be seen in his relationship with rules. A rule is sacred when it restrains somebody else and corrupt when it restrains him.

During the World Cup, Trump reportedly intervened with Infantino after American striker Folarin Balogun received a red card. The suspension was deferred, allowing Balogun to play in the next round. 

It would be funny were it not such an exact expression of his governing philosophy. Elections are legitimate when he wins them. Courts are respectable when they agree with him. International institutions are valuable when they amplify him. The free market is free until it produces a result he dislikes. Even the referee’s whistle becomes the beginning of a negotiation.

Trump’s political innovation has been to erase the distinction between public authority and personal appetite. The presidency is no longer merely an office occupied by Trump. It IS Trump.

The contradiction surrounding the World Cup made the spectacle darker. The tournament invited humanity to gather in the United States while immigration restrictions prevented or complicated travel for people from several participating nations. Fans, officials and referees from countries including Senegal, Ivory Coast and Somalia faced barriers entering the supposed festival of global unity.

The message was unmistakable: football unites…part of the world. Sort of.

This is how nationalism becomes narcissism. A genuine patriot loves a country more than himself. Trump loves a country that functions as an enlargement of himself.

America must win because Trump must win. America must dominate because Trump must dominate. America must be visible in every photograph because he cannot conceive of greatness from which he is absent.

That is why he is the perfect culmination of the American century, the avatar of the moment it all collapses. 

That is why he is so fascinated by trophies, parades, gold, giant flags and military spectacle. Symbols of national achievement become props in the longest-running reality show in political history.

After the ceremony, Trump posted an edited video that removed the awkward lingering and Infantino’s attempt to usher him away. So maybe he was embarrassed after all. In Trump’s version, there was no confusion and no overstaying. There was only the president, the trophy and history behaving according to his wishes.

This may be his most consequential political power: intrude, then edit.

Edit: The crowd did not boo; it cheered. The election was not lost; it was stolen. The tariff did not increase prices; foreigners paid it. The war is not escalating; peace is being imposed.

There is an old idea that power reveals character. Trump offers a slight variation: power removes the people who used to tell you when it was time to go.

Most of us learn this lesson early. The birthday child blows out the candles. The bride stands at the centre of the wedding photograph. The graduating student receives the certificate. The victorious players lift the trophy. If you are not the star, applaud and congratulate and get out. 

The Lost Boy could use some schooling on this point.

Spain eventually took its trophy home. The rest of us remain trapped in a series of photographs with the President.

Michael Brian Lee is the Mail & Guardian’s US correspondent, currently based in New York.