Donald Trump has a peculiar relationship with the media. Much of his political presence is sustained by the very organisations he seeks to exclude from the White House. Every provocation generates reporting, criticism and outrage, but the significance lies in what happens between these events. Each confrontation inherits an audience already anticipating the conflict, journalists expecting another provocation, and supporters prepared to interpret the resulting hostility as confirmation of their allegiance. The opposition becomes part of what makes Trump recognisable. His supporters do not simply believe in him. For some, their loyalty is organised against those who oppose him. The wizard needs the audience to believe, but he also needs someone outside the curtain insisting that the whole performance is nonsense.
Language does not simply describe this conflict. It helps reproduce the circumstances in which the conflict becomes meaningful. Words acquire significance through their relationships with other words, previous encounters, cultural expectations and the responses they have repeatedly produced. A phrase such as “fake news” carries more than an accusation. It invokes an established division between legitimate and illegitimate authority, inviting an audience to recognise its place within that division before examining the information itself. Repeated distinctions become familiar ways of organising experience. Culture preserves them, communication renews them, and each recurrence changes the conditions under which the next message will be understood. The participants need not share an interpretation. Their incompatible interpretations can sustain the very relationship that keeps them communicating.
This is why disinformation cannot be understood simply as a collection of false statements. A claim can be disproved while the expectations that made it credible remain undisturbed. Indeed, the correction itself can be interpreted as another instance of the anticipated hostility. The contradiction is absorbed, and the familiar pattern continues. What persists is not necessarily the claim, but the relationships through which new claims become believable. Timing matters. The provocation establishes an expectation, the anticipated response confirms it, and the confirmation prepares the audience for the next disturbance. Digital technologies reinforce these relationships by measuring and preferentially circulating communication that generates further responses. The machinery does not require a genius behind the curtain. It requires recurring differences, an audience prepared to recognise them, and sufficient opportunities for the performance to reproduce itself.
And this is where excluding journalists becomes such a peculiar decision. Trump is attempting to restrict a source of opposition that helps sustain his political presence. The White House briefing room is one point of contact where the administration’s account of itself encounters independent questioning. The resulting differences circulate beyond the room, generating further reporting, interpretation and response. Restricting that contact changes the relationship. It does not eliminate the opposition, and the exclusion itself can become another provocation, but it interferes with one of the mechanisms through which the conflict is continually renewed. Trump wants the political benefits of an adversarial press while attempting to determine the conditions under which that adversary can operate. The wizard has decided that the people asking awkward questions should leave the theatre. An interesting decision for someone whose performance depends upon their continued objections.
There is, however, a difference between opposition that reproduces the spectacle and investigation that changes the conditions under which it can persist. Familiar criticism can reinforce familiar loyalties. Evidence connecting statements to decisions, financial interests and material consequences introduces relationships that cannot be settled merely by repeating the original dispute. This is why independent observation matters. It allows information to emerge outside the administration’s preferred account of itself. Wealth and technological power can influence which information circulates, how frequently it recurs and which alternatives remain difficult to encounter. They cannot establish the truth of a claim by making it familiar. An enormous bank balance is not a certificate of intelligence, although that particular misunderstanding has become remarkably expensive for everyone else.
Trump is not the entire problem. He occupies a conspicuous position within a system in which opposition often reproduces the political presence it seeks to diminish. His attempt to exclude hostile journalists exposes the contradiction without necessarily resolving it. The conflict can continue elsewhere, acquiring new forms and new participants, while the institutions that permit independent examination become less accessible. The distinction is between reproducing the familiar opposition and changing the relationships that make it persist. The wizard needs the curtain, but he also needs the people trying to pull it aside. His difficulty is that he cannot guarantee they will keep playing their assigned parts once they discover how the machinery works.
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The Wizard Needs the Curtain: Trump, Media and the Machinery of Power
Trump depends upon the opposing media he seeks to exclude. Its opposition generates the conflict through which his political identity acquires force. The wizard needs the curtain, but he also needs someone on the other side insisting that we look behind it.
One reply on “The Wizard Needs the Curtain: Trump, Media and the Machinery of Power”
And then there are the flying monkeys, those industriously pernicious guardians of corruption, determined to prevent anyone from interfering with the curtain. Not because it conceals the machinery, but because it maintains the pretence that something remains concealed. The corruption is out in the open, and that is precisely what makes the arrangement so difficult to interrupt. Media and institutional life are accustomed to exposing what is hidden, not confronting a system in which investigation and exposure themselves become part of the machinery reproducing the corruption. Every revelation generates further attention, circulation and conflict, amplifying Trump’s presence while his supporters interpret the antipathy as confirmation of their allegiance. The shamelessly corruptible defend the curtain, the media keeps pulling it aside, and the wizard becomes more conspicuous with every revelation. The absurdity is that everyone can see the machinery, yet the performance continues as though discovering it would change everything. There’s no place like home.
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