The secret of Trump’s crisis-management is calculating down to the day and hour the exact time at which the crisis he fostered has become so immense so that it becomes a shared responsibility. Failing to pay his bank loans in the 1990s was a problem for him, but it was a bigger problem for the banks. He threatened to declare bankruptcy to escape his mountain of debt unless they forwarded him another $65 million to tidy his balance sheet. They agreed. He did it again in Atlantic City where state gaming regulators dithered over pulling his licenses because his three casinos were hemorrhaging money, fearing he would drag the whole city down with him if they did. In the end, he survived but Atlantic City kept sliding into ruin.

Trump’s new concession that upward of 200,000 will die in our great victory leaves us in the shackles previously worn by the bankers. The president has dragged the nation to a place like the one he towed his 1990s bankers, only worse. We must now root for him to succeed, even though the disaster taking shape was exacerbated by his inaction and blithe dismissals. It’s a horrible deal, but the only way for us to avoid the final bankruptcy of a coronavirus death is to hope that Trump finally gets it right.

By Monday afternoon’s presser, Trump had wrapped himself in the glory of his impending “victory” and framed the fight against the virus as part of “our shared patriotic duty,” as if segueing into his reelection campaign. Redefining victory as 200,000 dead might even help him win in November, but it will be Americans who end up paying the real price for his political survival.

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