I.
It is
just so sad. That's my reaction to reading Mary's book. My God, the
anguish that everyone in this super-dyfunctional family has had to
live with! No one escaped. Mary's father, Fred Jr., “Freddie,”
tried to escape and failed. He succumbed to a heart condition and
alcoholism, divorced, solitary, poor, living in a spare small room in
the garret of the Trump House in Queens (“The House” Mary calls
it, the center of pathology from which no one could really escape)
where he lay ill and dying for weeks when no one even called a doctor
or took him to a hospital before he finally died at 42. Mary loved
him, but being only 16 and infected by the family dysfunction, she
accepted the family judgement that it was his own fault, that he
hadn't measured up, that he had gone off on larks like being a
commercial pilot and marrying a flight attendant (Mary's mother
Linda) when his father had wanted him to succeed him as head of the
Trump Company and keep the family business thriving as a good first
son should and he couldn't make it. So he died for his alleged sins.
Mary
grieves for her father now, probably thinking “if only I knew then
what I know now.” All the others suffered, too, each in his or her
own way. Her grandmother, Fred Sr.'s wife who was also named Mary,
was chronically unhappy and suffered the misogyny of Fred Sr. The
middle child of the five Trump children, Elizabeth, has been an
introverted and depressed ghost. The eldest, Maryanne, succeeded in
being a lawyer and a judge, but she also participated in the Trump
hallmark dishonesty. She was part of the tax evasion fraud of wealth
transfer in the family documented in the New York Times, and she
joined the three-sib plot to defraud Mary and her brother Fritz from
any semblance of a rightful inheritance. Robert, the youngest
sibling, was the agent assigned by the other two after Fred died to
get Mary and Fritz to sign the papers that would consent to the
inheritance plan. The three Trump siblings stuck together in telling
Mary and Fritz that the nearly $1 billion estate was only worth $30
million. The deluded wife of Fred declared him virtually devoid of
funds in what seems perhaps to have been a gaslighting event. When
Mary and Fritz delayed signing the documents, the sibling trio cut
off Fritz's baby son's health insurance as he was being treated for
infantile spasms, a very severe neurological disease of childhood.
It was perfectly legal to do so. The lying about the value of the
estate? Not so legal. As though there wasn't enough to go around.
Trump Family Values. Just win, baby.
The
original villain of the piece, of course, is Fred, Sr., who we learn
grew up in a German-speaking family – so one would have thought
that the Trumps' immigrant status should be palpable to them. Or
perhaps because Fred became very wealthy, they learned the wrong
lessons. He was a man out of time and maybe out of place: cold,
authoritarian, wearing a three piece suit at all times and asserting
control through absolute denial of the validity of feelings of
others, even his wife's while she was severely ill – “You're
fine, aren't you Toots?” Then she goes to the hospital for
surgeries and recuperation for months on end. We don't know how Fred
got to be that way, and Mary is probably in no position to know about
this, and that's not part of her mission here. We just know how he
was, and how his dominance forced everyone to adopt his point of
view. When he finally deterioratd into dementia, it appears he
received little family support. It must have been pathetic and even
funny, the way Lear is funny wandering at the end, but ineffably sad.
It was dog eat dog chez Trump.
Fred was
the typical absent father who ran his company obsessively. The
mother was in charge of raising the girls and the father the boys,
but his being at work all the time limited his fathering chores,
which it appears he was unsuited for, anyway. Even in this killer of
a family, everyone strives for his favor. His success in business
was largely from government-funded housing in the outer boroughs,
Brooklyn and Queens. He got the jobs through “political
connections,” the substance of which we are left to imagine. His
large complexes featured impressive lobbies that bespoke luxury, but
the apartments themselves were cramped and maintenance was
lackadaisical. The Trump brand then was glitter outside, decrepit on
the inside, and neglect after the deal is done. Fred's crucial
insight was to retain ownership and carry no debt, which made them
huge cash cows.
Although
an effective money-maker, Fred was narrow and gauche and could never
penetrate to the higher social ranks in Manhattan – he was Queens
all the way. As his wealth grew, it appears he didn't know how to
spend it, so accumulation itself appeared to be the purpose, and the
personal control that accumulation conferred.
Fred is
not the only father who envisioned his oldest son, and if not his
oldest then one of the others, taking over the company and making him
immortal, with nothing ever to be sold, like a shrine. When Fred Jr.
dropped out of that fantasy, Donald was ready to take it up. He aped
the old man, and then he entranced and gulled the old man with
strutting, swagger and lies, which the old man was more than willing
to gobble up and fund, even as the bailouts got bigger. But, after
all, Donald did crack Manhattan as Fred Sr. had never been up to
doing, got a lot of press, was a somebody, which Fred couldn't be.
Fred was not the only father to let his fantasies run away with him.
And Donald was not the only son to gull his old man and to try to
fulfill his fantasies, to try to do what the old man would have loved
to have done himself, to have cracked Manhattan and the world. The
difference of Donald from others who inherited and then make
themselves bigger – compare Ted Turner, for instance – is that
Donald didn't really make or do anything, he just blew himself up
with air and hype and tried to push it for all it was worth. It was
worth a lot to Fred.
II.
This
book is written with a clinical eye, which I as a pediatrician
appreciate. It can't be an accident that Mary became a PhD in
clinical psychology. When you are one of the victims of a toxic
family, what better expertise to acquire than that of a PhD clinical
psychologist, studying family dynamics and family therapy? She could
not only learn to understand herself, but she could help others who
find themselves lost in similar situations. Relatives of gun
victims, relatives of drunk driver victims, relatives of those
stricken with diseases do the same – let at least some good come of
this horrible event, let's get some legislation passed, let's fund
research and treatment. Good for Mary! As she helps others in her
work, so she tries to help the country with this book.
Mary's
way of thinking is not so different from what we pediatricians are
familiar with. Mary declares her family's affliction not rare, but
uncommon. That's clinician talk. When confronted with a case like
Donald's, we clinicians think, what happened in the mother/child
dyad, what innate characteristics of the child were at play, and what
were the family dynamics that caused this monstrosity? Something
caused this.
For the
mother/child dyad, Mary focuses on Donald when he was two and his
mother had her major illness and was effectively removed from
Donald's life for a year and replaced by … nobody. Mary tells us
that this is the stage of a child's life when their emotions are
sensed by the intimate caregiver, reflected back to the child, and
the child comes to sense what his or her emotions are, and learns how
he or she can be comforted. That's what parents, and archetypically
mothers, do. When Donald had nobody to mirror and comfort him, his
reaction must have been to deny his feelings, she says, to be cold,
and in not recognizing his own feelings he was unable to recognize
anyone else's, and so became cruel. I'm a little rusty on my first
year med school Erik Erikson's stages
of development, but I'm willing to go along with her analysis as
being at least a good part of the truth. I have to admit that I have
always thought less dynamically that Donald might have had the
syndrome of oppositional
defiance, which doesn't specify a cause, but many assume it comes
at least partially from the innate nature of the child.
But
whatever the origin, these developed characteristics of Donald's, the
self-centered win and don't look back, don't worry about the feelings
of others, and then the bonus of grandiosity – they lit up Fred's
eyes as he saw his successor. This brings in family dynamics. I was
introduced to the developing field of family therapy as a pediatric
resident at UC San Francisco in the 1970's. I so vividly remember my
astonishment when, rather than simply meeting with individual
patients, we learned to treat the family as a unit, as a system
within which all the individual component parts (the people)
interacted and affected each other. Meeting with the family in the
room, not just individually, was key.
In that
family therapy rotation I remember being confronted with an
elementary school-aged boy who was being aggressive at school and
disrespectful to and uncontrollable by his mother. At the meeting we
saw the mother express her understandable distress, and we saw the
father agreed verbally, but we could also see, when our instructors
pointed it out to us, that the father's facial expressions and body
language said something completely different. They said non-verbally
how proud he was of his son for being a “manly” little boy. The
confused boy receiving this double message looked at his Mom giving
society's party line, but he was not at all unaware of his father's
pride in his “spunk.” He sought to please his father. It was
complicated. The father of course had his own history, and there
could have been a fair amount of misogyny involved. It was a
classically dysfunctional family.
A
further concept we learned in family therapy was that of the
“identified patient.” The family comes in with the medical
complaint that relates to one family member – she won't stop eating
junk, he is bullying everybody, etc. Everyone in the family sees the
squeaky wheel. But what the family therapist sees is how the
pathology of the family system is expressing itself in this one
member. If Fred Jr. had presented to a doctor with depression and
the doctor referred him for family therapy, the therapist would have
called Fred Jr. the “identified patient.” The family certainly
thought there was something wrong with him. Today, we all might view
Donald as the identified patient. But family therapy says, yes,
those are the visibly ill ones, but they are expressing the illness
of the whole system.
Donald
and Fred, of course, would not be caught dead in family therapy. But
if they had been seen, Fred would be clearly not giving the double
signals that the father of our family at UCSF did. That was minor
leagues compared to Fred. Fred would be seen giving one large
unambiguous signal, giving it to everyone, and everyone would be seen
as trying to win his approval, or to duck and not be seen. He would
brook no opposition, he of the three piece suit and imperious
demeanor.
When
you're caught in the situation with a family like this, there are no
magic bullets. There will be some survivors like Mary – barely, it
seems – but most will continue to be sociopathic as they learn to
exist in the system of the family, and in time it will be gradually
diluted out by marriages, changing circumstances, and new generations
emerging with less direct experience. In the meanwhile, one has to
hope just that it won't come to one big blowout. Lacking the ability
to go back in time and nip it in the bud, one can only seek to
control all the collateral damage by the sociopaths. Mary's
most plaintive sentence in the whole book is this: Donald has never been
loved. But so terribly sad as that may be, everyone needs
to be warned, and that is what Mary is doing.
III.
I have
another memory from my first year in med school that is applicable.
Our class was in the old Peter Bent Brigham Hospital auditorium on a
Saturday morning, and beloved psychiatrist John C. Nemiah interviewed
a patient in front of us. Under Nemiah's sensitive and friendly
questioning, the patient told his florid story of how resounders had
been placed in his brain, and how he got explanations of the world
and orders to act through them. The statements he made had some
verisimilitude to a possible reality, if you ignored that it was
resounders delivering the news. After he had left, Nemiah asked us
freshmen med students how we would describe the patient. Those of us
headed for psychiatry took the lead, describing his paranoid ideation
in detail, noting his affect, commenting on irregularities in his
logic. I was impressed by their observations and expositions. Then
Nemiah took charge and said, look, those are interesting and good
observations, but let's just look at this guy, OK. What do you see?
He's crazy! He's nuts! The shock of recognition grabbed us and we
laughed hard, to the last person. Forest, said Nemiah, forest –
not the trees. (He probably didn't say that, but that was his
message.) I loved Nemiah.
So, our
forest is the Trump family. They are totally nuts. A crazy father
raised a crazy family. Just because you are rich and financially
successful doesn't mean you can't be nuts. “High-functioning,”
yes, incredibly able to raise money in the first generation and to
spend it in the second, but nuts. A family constantly conspiring
against each other, filled with terror and lies, yet reassembling at
The House like clockwork for the birthdays and holidays and such. A
family where the divorced spouses were induced to be part of the
assemblage, until Marianne and Blaine, Robert's wife, asserted that
they would no longer come if Freddie's ex-wife Linda, Mary's mother,
were to continue to be included, thus exiling her. Forget Mary's
feelings. “Feelings?” Good luck with that. A family where
secrets and plots and illegalities were rife, where paying taxes was
the ultimate sin, where the celebrated son and heir commerced in
lies, damned lies, and false statistics. We can focus on the trees,
which are astounding to behold, but let's take Nemiah's way and look
at the forest. This is crazy town.
As to
scion Donald, the self-proclaimed very stable genius, if there's one
thing he isn't, it's “very stable.” But we should take the claim
of genius more seriously. How could someone so unqualified, so
ignorant, someone with probable dyslexia and ADHD and therefore
someone who can't read well and can't concentrate well, someone so
florid, so unmoored to the reality we commonly agree on, so full of
constant easily-refutable lies, so totally cynical, how can such a
person actually take over not only one of the two great parties of
the republic, but the apparatus of state as well? How can someone
whose schtick is best described as Borscht Belt fear, hate, and
diminishment; whose taste is lower working class; whose vocabulary is
elementary; whose greatest achievement was to be a third rate reality
TV host; whose businesses were disasters, frauds, and hoaxes; whose
ability to empathize seems totally absent; whose habits are publicly
disreputable; whose inclinations are publicly gangsterish; who is
obvious in his search for thieves and knaves to serve him – how can
someone like that rise to the pinnacle of power in a well-established
democracy? If that is not genius, what is?
Geniuses
have their own individual ways. If there ever were a crazy genius,
it is not some mad scientist making a Frankenstein monster in some
home cellar, it is not an evil genius in the labs of Wuhan creating a
lethal virus, it is not a James Bond villain. The crazy genius is
someone who has found a way of seizing power and orchestrating
destruction of government, someone who is seen by conventional
society as a clownish and fraudulent would-be gangster, someone
nurtured and enabled by a crazy but high-functioning family, who
manages to disrupt the country and the world.
IV.
That's
the forest. That's what Mary is telling us. She is saying, don't
fall for his bullshit, he has always pulled this stuff, he has always
blustered his way through things, he has always lied and manipulated,
and he was selected for these characteristics and promoted for them
and enabled for them by a very sick family with an immense amount of
money. Here's how he lied, here is how cruel and acquisitive he has
been, and please, people, see it for what it is. He's just doing
what he has always done. You can see the end result as it appears
now, but I see its long history, how the process has worked, how it
came to be this way, how it has been this way for a long time, and I
see how dangerous it is. America, don't fall for it.
Budd
Shenkin