President Trump's budget demonstrates the costs of accepting lies as a normal currency in politics, broken promises as a customary way of doing business, false claims of being "populist" as the equivalent of the real thing, and sloppiness as what we should expect from government.
Trump's fiscal plan was described as dead before arrival, but approaching it this way is a mistake. Many of the steep cuts in programs for low-income Americans mimic reductions passed before by Republicans in the House of Representatives. There's more life in this document than the easy dismissals would suggest.
Particularly astounding from a president who promised better health care for Americans who can't afford it is the $1.85 trillion reduction over a decade from Medicaid and subsidies under the Affordable Care Act. But didn't Trump promise not to cut Medicaid? Never mind, Budget Director Mick Mulvaney told CNBC's John Harwood. That pledge, Mulvaney explained, had been overridden by his promise to repeal and replace Obamacare.
Right, and my commitment to losing weight was overridden by my insistence on eating anything I want. We demean ourselves if we cynically normalize the reality that every Trump promise is meaningless claptrap aimed at closing a deal—and that the vows will be forgotten even before the ink on the agreement is dry. Many who did business with Trump learned the hard way not to trust anything he said. His supporters are being forced to earn the same dreary wisdom.
Trump lies so often that journalists tied themselves up in an extended discussion of when it was appropriate to use "lie," and when it was better to deploy such euphemisms as "misstatement" or "fabrication." We should stick to the short and simple word. Allowing Trump any slack only encourages more lying.