Does Trump Matter?

The first year of the Trump presidency ended as it had begun: a cauldron of confusion, legislative disarray, international disbelief, Democratic rage and Republican bewilderment — all simmering over the coals of racism. That's one perspective. Every part of it objectively accurate. Another is Trump's first year ended with a smashing legislative victory that lowered individual and corporate tax rates and simplified the tax code for the first time since 1986. That capped a year of accelerating economic growth, a hefty populating of the federal bench with judicial conservatives, a new European conversation edging toward Trumpian precepts on immigration and military burden-sharing and revamped federal regulations as unabashedly pro-business as any administration since Ronald Reagan.

These vastly different interpretations of Trump's first year, both accurate, illustrate the conundrum that is Trump and his confounding presidency. It accomplished as it appalled. It was chaotic, confusing and, despite itself, historically competent. Much of the hand-wringing that was visited upon Trump's first year was, justifiably, focused upon this unique new president's effect on American institutions — the White House, Congress, the courts, the free press, even the resilience of America's identity — and what shape they would find themselves in at the end, however long it might be, of Trump's reign.

Trump matters more than we can currently comprehend. His very presidency still startles because it's real, and the reality TV part is both a joke and a truism. Historians have long debated how much the president reflects the country or the country comes to reflect the president. Trump is the first president never to have held public office or to have led armies to victory in battle. Already this tells us something about a new American idea of what makes a president. Personally, Trump disdained politics and avoided active duty military service. He is a hero and an antihero at the same time. His long history of self-promotion and fascination with tabloid culture fits more seamlessly than we might want to admit into our current selfie and social media mind-set and mania — a place where relentless self-branding can be a path to notoriety, infamy, riches and at times all three.

From the moment of his election, Trump was a force for and a crucible of division ... and devotion. His presidency, quite apart from its record, is already original. No one has been more publicly tempestuous, dare we say stormy, with the words and mannerisms of the presidency. Trump is recklessly authentic — a living, breathing, orangish and hair-sprayed Rorschach test of what early-21st-century America wants and expects from politics and the presidency. Importantly, Trump is also a barometer of how much we as a nation are prepared for this highly personalized and vocalized presidency to permeate — through the minor miracle of digital technology — every moment of our waking lives. Eleven days into Trump's presidency, one of the great satirists of our times, Jon Stewart, read aloud on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert a mock executive order: `I, Donald J. Trump, do declare by executive order that I, Donald J. Trump, am exhausting.' It has been 11 days, Stephen," Stewart said to the host. "Eleven fucking days. Eleven! The presidency is supposed to age the president, not the public. We have never faced this before. Purposeful, vindictive chaos." Part of Trump's originalism exists within that humor, that truth and that collective (and possibly exaggerated) anxiety.

And yet on Inauguration Day, my CBS colleague Dean Reynolds was in Kenosha, Wisconsin, one of the crucial states in Trump's electoral map. He was surveying voter attitudes and expectations at Frank's Diner. "I think you got a country that's fed up with the establishment and they wanted change and they didn't want a politician," said Jim Roberts, a Kenosha city worker. Glen Woods, sitting at the diner's counter, summed up the Trump mystique. "He's a pit bull. He swam upstream against both parties. I've never seen that before." Reynolds asked if Woods considered Trump a disruptive force. "Oh, absolutely. Tear 90 percent of it down. He was the only candidate who seemed to really hammer in that you can't tell people to go get a job if there aren't any." All presidencies arrive with lofty expectations. Historic ones leave behind big ideas and big changes. What kind of presidency is Trump's? What kind of president is he?

Legislatively, Trump's first year was both active and inert. He failed with the legislative goal that started his presidency — repealing and replacing the Affordable Care Act — and succeeded on his biggest legislative push, to reduce corporate and individual tax rates and simplify the federal tax code for the first time since 1986. He also nominated and saw confirmed a Supreme Court Justice, nominated another Supreme Court Justice in 2018, peppered the federal judiciary with constitutional originalists and allied with the GOP-led Congress to dismantle many Obama-era regulations.

In between this activism lay months of headline-grabbing nothingness — another novelty. Here is a short list of campaign promises that became vaporous memories: paid family leave; infrastructure; criminal justice reform; combatting the opioid crisis; price controls on prescription drugs. Even in the second year, these promises received token attention or none at all. What Trump did achieve came by virtue of two tools: executive orders (which he had scorned Obama for) and simple majority bludgeoning in the Senate. If legislation required compromise or a modicum of cleverness, it often eluded Trump and the Republican-led Congress (a problem that persisted in 2018). Throughout the first year, Trump would rage about the glacial pace of Washington, about how little Republicans accomplished on his behalf and how much of his agenda was stalled. He papered over these anxieties with cartoonish tweets — also a new presidential coping mechanism.

This reminded me of an interview I did with Trump in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, a few days before the primary. The main topic was Trump's unexpected spat with Pope Francis over immigration. But I sensed Trump was heading for a big victory in South Carolina and from there had a bead on the GOP nomination. I wanted to talk about the massive crowds that came to see Trump at almost every step along the way. Their expectations for Trump appeared limitless. I knew well the frustrations of past presidents I had covered and how the office could...