What Trump Has in Common With Napoleon A brash outsider who knew his terrain like nobody else, he succeeded until he faced a new kind of enemy. Walter Russell Mead

https://www.wsj.com/articles/what-trump-has-in-common-with-napoleon-11588784608?mod=opinion_featst_pos1

Russia is the country that, more than any other, has haunted Donald Trump’s presidency. It began when allegations of Russian collusion first appeared during the 2016 campaign and continues as a glut of Russian crude drives U.S. frackers into bankruptcy.

There was another world leader over whose career Russia loomed like a specter: Napoleon Bonaparte. Napoleon burst onto the European scene like a meteor. He broke all the rules first of French politics, then of European warfare. His unconventional tactics, relentless ambition and brilliant strategic intuition allowed him to establish the greatest empire Europe had seen since Rome.

Then he invaded Russia.

The question for Trump watchers today is whether the coronavirus will do to his presidency what the 1812 Russian invasion did to Napoleon’s empire. Has Mr. Trump found an enemy that he can’t defeat, and will it enable his opponents to bring him down at last?

Early on, Napoleon had such advantages that nobody could beat him. The strong nationalism of revolutionary France meant that his conscript armies could march farther and faster than other armies—following routes and tactics that were impossible for others, and thereby difficult for opposing generals to anticipate and counteract.

Mr. Trump’s secret weapon in 2016 was similar: a base so engaged and committed that it would stand in line for hours to get a ticket to his rallies. His voters turned out in droves and could be summoned against elected Republicans who tried to defy him. U.S. politics had never seen a force quite like this, and Mr. Trump’s opponents had no idea how to counter it.

Napoleon had other advantages. Thanks to long study, he knew the terrain of his marches in ways that others didn’t, and he combined that with an intuitive grasp of tactics that enabled him to quickly read the key to a battle. At the siege of Toulon, the 24-year-old Napoleon observed that a hill overlooking the harbor could, if occupied by French artillery, pour down such devastating fire on the British fleet that it would have no choice but to withdraw, and without the fleet’s support, the antirevolutionary rebels couldn’t defend the town. That was the stroke that launched his career; he would have many more.

The combination of intense preparation and strategic intuition was critical to Mr. Trump’s rise as well. He studied his battle terrain—public opinion—through long careers as a casino developer and a reality-television host. And his intuitive grasp of the power of issues like trade and immigration to upend U.S. politics left his Republican and Democratic opponents sputtering with rage and surprise.

Napoleon’s sheer cynicism and audacity repeatedly flabbergasted opponents who were accustomed to the slower and more honorable way in which both war and diplomacy had previously been conducted. Mr. Trump’s vitriolic personal attacks, detachment from conventional standards of truthfulness, and disregard for every convention of normal political life often have had the same effect on his opponents.

But by the time of the Russian campaign, Napoleon’s magic was beginning to fade. First in Spain, then in Russia and Germany, French arrogance and Napoleonic tyranny turned not only elite but mass opinion against him. By the 1813 Battle of the Nations in Leipzig, Napoleon faced troops at least as motivated as his own. Millions of Democrats are now as angry and energized as Mr. Trump’s base was in 2016; it will be an interesting autumn.

In Russia, Napoleon’s greatest skills were largely useless. He couldn’t destroy enemy forces in a decisive battle, as the enemy kept retreating. His ability to execute brilliant tactical maneuvers using intricate road networks wasn’t useful in a country with few maps and fewer roads. And the survival of his army would ultimately depend on something he could not provide: an adequate supply line with hay for the horses, and food and winter clothing for the men.

The pandemic puts Mr. Trump at a similar disadvantage. He can’t hold mass rallies in a time of social distancing. He can’t find a cure. He can’t cast the blame on his opponents. And personal protective equipment and tests remain obstinately scarce.

Success was all that held Napoleon’s movement together; when the empire weakened, the loyalists disappeared. The ablest of his generals and ministers—including Prince Talleyrand and Marshal Jean Bernadotte—deserted his cause. Should Mr. Trump’s electoral hopes dim, will Republicans up for re-election distance themselves from a beleaguered leader?

Napoleon wasn’t finished when he returned to Paris from the Russia disaster. And the president is by no means finished today. But there is no doubt at this point that the pandemic marks an important transition for Mr. Trump. Covid-19 remains the greatest threat his presidency has faced, and to date he hasn’t found a way to address it.

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