Paul Brandus

Donald Trump has been compared to all sorts of rogues, populists, and demagogues from the dusty pages of American history: Huey Long, Joseph McCarthy, George Wallace. There are others.

But the characters Trump best resembles aren’t American. In fact, they’re not even real people. They spring from the frighteningly prescient pages of George Orwell: Napoleon from Animal Farm and Big Brother from 1984.

Like Big Brother, the venerated leader of Oceania, Trump commands a powerful cult of personality. He can say absolutely anything, no matter how nonsensical, devoid of facts or outrageous, and it is taken for gospel. “I am your voice,” he tells his believers at his coronation in July. “I alone can fix it” — “it” meaning of all our complex, often intertwined problems. “Trump! Trump! Trump!” the crowd roars as they stare adoringly at the glowing visage on the huge screen behind him. On the monitor is a slogan, in huge capital letters: “IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH.” No, wait, that’s what was behind the huge image of Big Brother, as his adoring mass breaks into a “deep, rhythmical chant: “B-B!…B-B!…B-B!…” One resident of Oceania, overcome with the emotion of the moment, holds out her arms, as if trying to touch the face on the screen: “My saviour!” she cries. It is a powerful thing to behold: someone who believes so deeply.

Both Big Brother and Trump employ a clever and cynical philosophy that enables them to manipulate minds: “Who controls the past, controls the future: who controls the present controls the past,” Orwell writes. Trump, with his own Orwellian Truth Ministry, whitewashes his past ruthlessly.

Of Russian President Vladimir Putin, he can tell ABC, “He’s not going into Ukraine … just so you understand. You can mark it down.” Snared by his own ignorance, he waits a few weeks and tweets “Russia took Crimea during the so-called Obama years. Who wouldn’t know that?”

If it’s inconvenient today, yesterday never existed. “I didn’t say that,” Trump will huff, when pressed on the countless number of mind-boggling things he has uttered over the past year and a half — even if it exists in tape. “I didn’t say that…gimme a break.”

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The power of the cult is such that newcomers quickly learn to drink the Kool-Aid.

“He never said that,” insisted running mate Mike Pence, when confronted with Trump's comment — on tape — that U.S. allies like Japan should have nuclear weapons.

What about calling Russia's Vladimir Putin a great leader? “No, we haven’t."

Social security a "Ponzi scheme?" "There they go again," Pence said, channeling his inner Ronald Reagan, although Trump did call it just that in a book 16 years ago.

The past didn't happen. Never existed. It's all rigged, our enemies (CNN, Paul Ryan, everyone but the Girl Scouts, it seems) — are out to get us. We will win!

In Big Brother’s Oceania, doublethink — believing what you are told even while possessing information to the contrary — emerges. In Oceania, people are told that 2+2 equals 5. In Trump’s world, you can lose a billion dollars and two decades later be told that this is brilliant. "It shows what a genius he is!” Rudy Giuliani gushes. The past matters little, memory and facts blur. The only thing that matters is what we’re told today. “B-B!…B-B!…B-B!…Trump!..Trump!…Trump!”

Orwell’s allegorical novel of Stalin’s Soviet Union — Animal Farm — also has Trump parallels. You know the plot: two pigs battle for control of the farm: Napoleon is the treacherous conniver; Snowball wants all the animals to learn how to read and write. Snowball works for the good of all, has detailed plans on how to make things better. But Napoleon ruthlessly paints Snowball as a villain and demonizes him. Napoleon always needs a scapegoat; everyone who opposes him is demonized. Some are exiled. One is killed. Fast forward to 2016: “Hang that bitch!” is the cry at rallies. “You’d be in jail,” says Napoleon — er, Trump.

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“November came,” Orwell writes. And Napoleon blames all that is wrong with the world on Snowball. “Do you know who is responsible?” Napoleon shouts at his large rallies.“SNOWBALL!” There are angry cries of indignation from the masses. They show limited understanding of the true situation, but eager to believe, place their faith in Napoleon. After all, Napoleon has a “reputation for getting his own way” — he is a winner! The masses seem to take no notice — or choose to deny — the underlying treachery.

At his big rallies, Napoleon, who brags a lot, says he’s working on behalf of the masses. “All animals are equal!” he proclaims. The masses must work hard and contribute — everyone must do their share. Meantime, he lives lavishly, always surrounding himself with the best of everything. In the end, it is discovered that Napoleon — in whom so much trust and hope has been placed — hasn’t contributed anything at all. The masses learn that while all animals are equal, some, in fact, “are more equal than others.” But it’s too late.

It's not too late for us. Election Day looms.

Paul Brandus, founder and White House bureau chief of West Wing Reports, is the author of Under This Roof: The White House and the Presidencyand a member of USA TODAY's Board of Contributors. Follow him on Twitter @WestWingReport.

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