“I lose my temper, but it's all over in a minute," said the student. "So is the hydrogen bomb," I replied. "But think of the damage it produces!” George Sweeting
“Anger is the emotion preeminently serviceable for the display of power.” Walter B. Cannon
No secret that Donald Trump has a volcanic temper. Off-gassing as often as Old Faithful blows steam and scorching fumes, he’s a natural wonder of explosive temper. Best to stay clear of his tantrums because, well, who wants to be near a M-80 with a sparkling short fuse? As we all know, Trump is a grifter who oversells, overvalues, and overpitches everything. But disagree with him and he gets bigly angry. He cannot contain his rage. At his political rallies, his hagiographic image appears on tee shirts, both hands prominently forward, middle fingers flipped up, the caption reading, “Impeach This.” According to him he wins every contest by a landslide, his rallies are larger than any ever held before by anyone, he deserves the Nobel Peace Prize, and he knows far more than professors, scientists, other entrepreneurs, military leaders, and countless experts in all fields. In his view, no one in the history of the world is smarter, kinder, more honest, and more capable than he. Disagree with him or fail to offer him the respect that he demands, you will trigger a fit of fury. When accused of having an unbridled, out-of-control temper, he countered with the assertion that he is, in fact, a “very stable genius.” Close advisors and many in the press believe that he uses anger to manipulate and demean those whom he dislikes and anyone who does not show sufficient obeisance. Look out! Bend a knee to him, or he’ll excoriate you publicly. He’s the hammer; everyone else are nails. Anger is a tool he employs to drive home his point, whatever that point may be.
Anger does get attention. When I was eight or nine, a neighborhood bully tested my patience with every encounter. One day, he asked to see what was in my pockets. Likely, I showed him a pitiable handful of yo-yo strings, sticks of chewing gum, a couple of marbles, and a quarter my mother had given me for a school lunch carton of milk. The bully snatched the quarter and said that it was his unless I guessed the number he had in mind, a number between one and ten. I started with one and worked my way up. “Nope,” he said, “the number was eleven, so I keep the quarter.” I don’t believe the bully had ever seen such a reaction. I started to whimper, but then I began to scream, to spit, to swing my fists, and to reveal exactly what rage looked like. Not only did I scare the bully, but I scared myself. I lost my voice shrieking. I became fearless, pummeling the bully with everything I had. Nothing could contain me. I wanted to deal as much violence as I could discharge. No guiderails, no mitigation, something bestial took command of me. I knew no danger. I was danger. By the way, the bully finally threw the quarter at me and said something about me having “a cow.”
Profoundly anarchic people and babies know the strategy well. Not getting your way? Kick up a fuss, blow a fuse, a drama scene filled with screaming and bawling and generally upsetting everyone nearby. That gets attention. Anger powering tears must be acknowledged. Can anyone ignore a screaming baby?
Years ago, a colleague of mine was ordered by the court to take anger management class. He had kicked down a door and made an unpleasant scene at his estranged wife’s home. Anger took hold of him when he imagined that his ex-wife was entertaining a gentleman caller. So, I asked my colleague, “How’s that anger class going?” He told me in a loud and heated voice, almost shouting, “It makes me so mad to talk about it, so let’s change the subject, okay?” Because his tone verged on explosive, I immediately changed the subject. See, anger usually rules until it cools.
Anger itself, I suppose, is neither good nor bad. It’s a normal human response. However, if taken to the point of rage, it becomes, deservedly, one of the seven deadly sins. Almost always, it is hurtful to the one fueling the anger. As an example, if I spin out of control after dropping my mobile phone down two flights of stairs and consequently slam my fist into the wall, breaking a finger or two, my temper will deliver me along with my pain to Urgent Care. But if I grow angry at someone who kicks a dog for barking too much, I can use outrage to direct the authorities to the doorstep of the abuser rather than become a violent miscreant like the dog beater. If I channel anger appropriately, it becomes a beneficial force, something like harnessing geothermal energy to generate electricity.
Have you noticed that politics and the SARS pandemic and climate change and sectarian schisms have increased the level of anger throughout our communities? Easy to claim that the level of anger has reached new heights during the last few years. For the most part, it is safe to say, that anger has been destructive.
This is the rage age. Smiles are hard to find in public places. Road rage is on the upswing. Violent crimes and shootings are trending upwards. Everyone is offended by everything.
Sage advice to Trump and all those like him comes from Stephen Hawking, "People won't have time for you if you are always angry or complaining.”