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Excerpt:

In February of 2021, a fitness instructor named Khing Hnin Wai shot what might be history’s most viral aerobics lesson. Filming herself in front of a major thoroughfare in Myanmar’s capital city, Khing went through her paces, gyrating purposefully to some up-tempo music. The real action, however, was in the background, as a convoy of armored vehicles sped in her direction. Khing had accidentally recorded the beginnings of a military coup—and created the most lasting artifact of the overthrow of Aung San Suu Kyi’s democratically elected government.

Here in the United States this week, employees of the U.S. Institute of Peace, who rarely if ever made headlines beyond the fact that their agency is often the venue for White House Correspondents’ Dinner after-parties, were rousted from their place of work by armed authorities backing Elon Musk’s misnamed wrecking crew, the Department of Government Efficiency. Musk’s goons were apparently unmoved by the fact that USIP is not an executive branch agency and thus outside of DOGE’s alleged purview. The episode raised important questions about whether there are appreciable limits to the private property that DOGE can enter and take over. Unfortunately, much of the media stood there, dancing, as one more instance of Trumpian misrule unfolded behind them.

To write about the plain facts of the Trump administration is, admittedly, a challenge. It can be hard to write a straight news story about an unlawful administration careening through constitutional boundaries without sounding a bit hysterical. I’ve had a two-year head start on most of the political media in writing about Trump’s plan to effect a wholesale demolition of the civil service and transform it into an engine of malevolence; back when I started, I thought long and hard about whether I’d come off as overreacting. But now that we’ve reached the other side of the election, it’s become clear to me that one can almost never overreact when responding to Trump.

I wish more media professionals would realize this. Unfortunately, all around us I see more of the same exercises in sanewashing that we saw in the media’s disastrous run-up to the 2024 election. The aforementioned siege of the Institute of Peace is a perfect case in point. The New York Times characterized the matter as a “simmering dispute” between two sides that don’t have equal standing where the truth is concerned. But one is an agency that says, correctly, that it is “a congressionally chartered nonprofit that is not part of the executive branch,” and the other is a group of unaccountable thugs whose response is, “We don’t care.” Still, at least the Times made note of the fact that armed police were part of this “standoff.” One local news station left that out of their account.

But the way the media is covering the mundanity of Trump’s mob rule is just as bad as the way it sands off the edges of its most dramatic confrontations. As Tom Scocca and Joe McLeod wrote Tuesday for their newsletter, Indignity, the press is stuffed to the gills with accounts that stipulate that Trump and his associates have “fired” scads of government workers. Just this week, it was reported by a wide variety of news organizations that Trump had fired a pair of FTC commissioners. But as the authors noted, that was not, in fact, what had happened:

Donald Trump did not fire any commissioners from the [Federal Trade Commission] today. Donald Trump declared that he had fired the commissioners. That is, functionally, he announced a desire that he should have the power to fire FTC commissioners and named the commissioners that he would fire if he were to have that power—a power which he does not, within the bounds of the law and the constitution, possess. 

“It is hard to fit that into a headline!” Scocca and McLeod acknowledged. “Yet it is essential for news outlets to find a way.” I wish I saw more of an effort toward that goal, and less of the brain-breaking examples of headline torture I saw in last week’s Times’ account of Trump’s strong-arming of the GOP, titled, “Trump, With More Honey Than Vinegar, Cements an Iron Grip on Republicans.” Does that set a new standard for the mixed metaphor? Between vinegar, honey, cement, and iron, it certainly sets a mixed-media record.

Or consider a report of a more recent vintage from The Washington Post: “Trump has a plan to remake the economy. But he’s not explaining it very well.” The piece reduces the trouble the president is having on the economic front—where for the first time he’s underwater on polls—to one in which he’s left the investor class with insufficient insight into his master plan. In this telling, the president’s claims of a soon-to-arrive golden age are taken at face value. “If the administration’s plan succeeds, the $30 trillion U.S. economy would be remade,” the article claims, adding that the United States was set to become “even more self-sufficient, producing more of its energy, lumber, steel and computer chips than ever before.”

Paul Krugman greeted this article’s array of assertions and unfalsifiable claims with something more reality-based: “I don’t know about you, but I don’t think Trump’s problem is that he’s doing a poor job of explaining his plan. I think his problem is that he’s offering fake answers to fake problems, and the public—unlike, apparently, the Washington Post—isn’t buying it.” That seems right to me. Beyond that, if anyone is actually in need of an “explanation” about Trump’s economic plans, I’d say that once you understand that everything proceeds from the fact that the president is an omnidirectionally corrupt moron whose desperate need for adulation fuels his every decision, with the added problem that he has, since his first term, become more intellectually infirm, everything starts to make sense. The constant whiplashing between implementing and retracting tariffs, the constant characterization of prosperity as a bad thing, the wild-eyed talk of how economic hardship will finally set us all free—all of this stems from the simple fact that the man at the top is a deceitful asshole with a cranial cavity full of damp parsley.

Like I said, you can sound a little strange when you straight-facedly account for the plain facts of this administration. But what’s the alternative? Most of what the Trump administration does, every day, is act illegally or unconstitutionally, rampaging and pillaging the government in ways that we’d discuss in much clearer terms if it were happening in some other autocracy—like Myanmar, for example.

As Scocca and McLeod wrote, “A constitutional crisis is also a crisis of newswriting, because it is a crisis of knowing.” One of the biggest debates that seems to be raging in the media right now is whether or not we are actually allowed to tell the truth about the Trump administration—to state clearly that unconstitutional corruption is afoot in the nation’s capital with the same clarity and urgency we once used to talk about, say, a secretary of state’s private email server. Are we going to actually tell the public what is going on, or are we going to stand in front of it, dancing energetically in a fluorescent-yellow outfit?

Please note that article continues in depth, beyond what a lemmy post will allow.