Donald Trump announces his candidacy for the presidency at Trump Tower
on June 16, 2015. (Photo Christopher Gregory/Getty Images)
Now might be a good time to revisit some of the grand and inspiring rhetoric with which Donald Trump launched
his presidential campaign in 2015. “I’ve watched the politicians,”
Trump said then. “I’ve dealt with them all. If you can’t make a good
deal with a politician, then there’s something wrong
with you. You’re
certainly not very good.”Or maybe we should go back to the first Republican debate in Cleveland,
when Trump flatly asserted, “Our leaders are stupid, our politicians
are stupid,” while eight of those politicians stood mute onstage and
grinned stupidly, because everybody knew Trump couldn’t really be the
nominee anyway, so why make a whole big scene by refusing to be bullied
and berated.
You’ve
got to wonder if some of those guys took just a little satisfaction
last week in watching Trump fail to cut a deal with his own party on
health care. You have to imagine that Jeb Bush or John Kasich was
sitting in front of the TV thinking to himself: “Welcome to the NFL,
genius.”
Because
right about now it should be dawning on Trump that politics isn’t just
business for stupid people. There’s a reason so little gets done.
I’m
not saying Trump doesn’t bring undervalued skills to the presidency,
because he does. A guy who’s put together megadeals in real estate or
entertainment is going to come at a political problem more strategically
and maybe more pragmatically than some of the career legislators I’ve
known, who probably couldn’t win a negotiation over bedtime with my
9-year-old.
But
anyone who’s had considerable success in both business and politics —
and I spoke to a few leaders like that this week — could have told Trump
that ramming legislation through Congress isn’t the same thing as
raising up a casino or a high-rise. The principles that work in one
arena don’t necessarily translate to the other.
In
real estate, even a deal that’s unusually complex is a relatively
straightforward proposition. Everybody wants to make money — either off
selling land or developing it. Everybody has something the other guy
wants. You negotiate your way to the bottom of the market, and then you
run the numbers.
There’s
always another house, or tract of land, or car — that’s the psychology
behind all smart business negotiation. If you’re not willing to set your
final terms and walk away, you’re not coming out a winner.
A
negotiation like the one Trump just bungled, though, is more like
buying a building from a small army of owners rather than one or two,
and all of them split into factions that have entirely different
agendas.
“You’ve
got to get 218 votes, and any individual or small group can be a holdup
or pop up with some new requirement,” Mark Warner, who made a fortune
off mobile phones before becoming Virginia’s governor and then senator,
told me. “It’s a little like whack-a-mole.”
In
politics, there isn’t always — or ever — another Congress you can turn
to. It’s this law or no law, which means you can’t just lay down your
terms and walk away, as Trump tried to do. You have to keep coming back
at it, and you have to realize that some of the factions may have zero
interest in getting to yes, which is really never true in a business
negotiation.
As
Johnny Isakson, a senator who built a real estate business in Georgia,
puts it: “I sold thousands of houses over the years, and I never sold a
house to someone who didn’t want to buy it, and I never bought a house
from someone who didn’t want to sell.”
In
business, your leverage is always the money you bring to the table or
some essential resource you control. In Congress, especially in the age
after earmarks, the only real pressure you bring to bear as president is
the public will.
You can’t do much cajoling or threatening of reluctant legislators if you’re boasting a 36 percent approval rating, and you can’t just call up the public approval bank and borrow another 10 points at a discounted rate.
Plenty
of people will enter into a real estate deal with a guy they don’t like
— even if he has a reputation for filing frivolous lawsuits and
welching on contractors. In the political arena, trust and constancy are
the only tradable currencies. The shiftier and more erratic you seem,
the less anyone feels like betting his future on your soothing
assurances.
And,
unlike in most secretive business deals, the various offers and
counteroffers in Washington are played out in public, which means
whatever you do to win votes among one faction will cost you support in
another as soon as you hang up the phone.
Let’s
be clear: Trump isn’t the first president to find all this hard to
navigate. Our last three presidents had decades of political experience
between them, and all of them stumbled through missteps in their opening
months, squandering their governing majorities in the process.
If
Trump’s half as smart as he’s always telling us he is, then he has more
than enough capacity to get this right. He still has plenty of time to
go back to the table and put together a health care deal that passes.
The
problem for Trump is that he doesn’t seem to have learned any
cautionary lessons from the experience. He still seems to think there’s
nothing wrong with his nascent administration that can’t be fixed by a
few bromides from “The Art of the Deal.”
Practically
the first thing Trump did after watching the health care bill crash and
burn was to announce a new initiative aimed at making government run
more like a business. This he entrusted to his son-in-law, Jared
Kushner, who used to control a tiny newspaper and a bunch of real estate
that he bought with his dad’s money, but who now has a White House
portfolio that includes negotiating Middle East peace and reinventing
trade policy.
It’s
all right, though, because Jared majored in government at Harvard, so
he knows what he’s doing. Also, you can’t blame him for the health care
debacle, since he was off skiing in Aspen while it was falling apart.
What
Trump needs now isn’t the comfort of family. What he needs is to take a
look around and realize that his Team of Amateurs (don’t even think
about stealing that, Doris Kearns Goodwin) isn’t up to running a White
House. He needs to put a few people around him, like maybe his pal Chris Christie, who have some grasp of the tradecraft of politics and know something about governing.
It’s
time for Trump to put away all that crowd-pleasing contempt and admit
that politics is actually just as hard as business, if not harder, and
he’s not exactly killing it like Lyndon Johnson.
It
doesn’t look like he’s ready to do that, though. And if I were one of
those accomplished politicians Trump slammed onstage at that first
debate and many times after, I’d be tempted to call him now and remind
him of an old movie line.
Stupid is as stupid does.
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