Donald Trump would like you to believe he is a billionaire many times over.
Of course, since he refuses to release his tax returns, we don’t know for sure. There’s some evidence to suggest his net worth is wildly overstated, like the fact he has given virtually none of his personal money to charity despite repeated promises to do so, and his habitual failure to pay small business contractors for their work. But nary a press conference or televised interview goes by without Trump insisting that he is worth untold billions.
Regardless, he certainly acts like a billionaire. He plasters his name on everything from skyscrapers to board games to slabs of meat—whenever possible, rendered in gold. He employs unthinking yes men, casts his lot with the same elitist socialites his supporters revile, and, when beautiful women reject him, simply goes out and buys different beautiful women.
But the truth about Donald Trump is that the image he projects outwardly—of opulence, success, grandiosity—immediately begins to erode if you afford him anything more than a passing glance.
His buildings are falling apart and his line of clothing is made overseas. He has no interest in making things to the highest standards so long as he can just pretend to and still charge a premium. If Donald Trump were a house, he would be a McMansion, complete with fake marble columns, cheap fixtures and a mold infestation hidden underneath a fresh coat of paint.
Trump is hardly the first businessman to profit from selling a bill of goods. Of greater concern is the fact we are now seeing Trump’s business principles applied to his role as an elected official.
For every problem that has arisen during his transition, Trump has reached for whatever cosmetic solution was within his immediate grasp. Crises both foreign and domestic demand nuance and deliberation, but that takes more effort than Trump is willing to exert.
This week, for example, Trump announced a deal to save the jobs of workers at the Indianapolis headquarters of Carrier, an air conditioning and heating unit manufacturer. He gave himself a pat on the back for his astute business acumen during a tour of the company’s factory on Thursday evening, insisting that he was acting “very presidential.”
But it didn’t take long for the truth to come out. The deal Trump struck with Carrier executives is far more complicated than a case of simply saving a few American jobs. Indiana taxpayers are on the hook for $7 million in tax incentives for Carrier, which is still closing one factory and sending more jobs to Mexico than are remaining in the United States. As one economist put it after details leaked, deals like the one given to Carrier are “pretty ineffective and they’re very costly.” Trump didn’t so much solve America’s manufacturing crisis as play the role of a temp agency for a few hundred workers.
One of two things must be true in the wake of the horrible Carrier deal. Either Donald Trump isn’t half the businessman he makes himself out to be—more of a reality TV version of a businessman, if you will—or he simply cannot be bothered to do anything more than the absolute minimum required of him to earn the praise he so desperately wants. You can make a compelling case for the former, but the way he has deftly handled his own fortune this week suggests the latter.
The other big story that came out of the Trump transition this week is Trump’s plan to transfer ownership of his business holdings to his grown children. On Wednesday, Trump issued a series of tweets outlining his plan to leave his business empire in the hands of daughter Ivanka and sons Donald Jr. and Eric. Once more, he was after the quick headlines, and news outlets were happy to oblige. “Trump Will Leave Business ‘in Total’ for Presidency” was how Bloomberg portrayed the story. CBS News went with “Trump says he’ll leave business to avoid conflicts of interests.”
Dwell on the story for anything more than a minute, however, and some important questions arise. For instance, how does putting one’s own children in charge of your businesses actually relieve conflicts of interest? It doesn’t, of course. If Trump wanted to truly put his conflicts to rest, he would divest from his companies and put his assets in a blind trust. Instead, his personal wealth remains tied to the companies bearing his name.
No matter. During his tweetstorm, Trump made an accidental admission about the motivations behind his decision to leave his companies.
“I feel it is visually important, as President, to in no way have a conflict of interest with my various businesses,” he said in a tweet on Wednesday. Not actually important. Visually important. We have elected a used car salesman as president.