NO KINGS HERE!

Watching “Wolf Hall” in the Era of Trump 2.0

By Christopher B. Daly

I have been watching the new season of the “Wolf Hall” series, all about the reign of England’s King Henry VIII. As I watch Henry exercise power and then switch channels to CNN for news updates, I cannot help but notice similarities between Henry and a current-day, red-headed tyrant: Donald Trump.

As we celebrate the 250^th anniversary of the start of a revolution whose main purpose was to rid this country of kings, the “Wolf Hall” series (being shown on the embattled network PBS) serves as a reminder of the dangers of unchecked power.

In the historical novels by Hilary Mantel and in the PBS series, we can see a close-up portrait of an absolute ruler, Henry VIII of England. Henry is a king who is impulsive, impetuous, and insecure. He holds grudges, and he seeks revenge for wrongs both real and perceived, both grand and petty.

At times, Henry seems to hint to the audience that he knows that there is no real rationale for all his power; thus, he can never take it for granted and must constantly intimidate others and demand proof of their loyalty to him, personally.

Henry is seen as furious at the dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, who have their own power bases and don’t really need him. He is also paranoid about wealthy Catholic families who function in the English power struggles somewhat like “traditional Republicans” – that is, they refuse to join Henry’s Protestant church, just as many old-line Wall Street conservatives balk at joining Trump’s MAGA movement.

Once he became Protestant, Henry considered the Catholic Church, from the Pope to the humblest faithful believer in England, to be his enemies. The king targeted cardinals in particular for elimination – executing them gruesomely – and considered them his oppressors.

Similarly, Trump considers the Democratic Party, from Biden and Pelosi to the humblest moderate Democrat in a purple state, to be his enemies. He investigates them, he denounces them, and who knows what he would do to them if he had the power to order public beheadings?!

Henry does not think very highly of women. He evaluates them according to a single standard – is she able to bear me a male heir? For his part, Trump also evaluates woman by a single standard. He shows us again and again that his ideal modern woman is one who looks good on television.

As a monarch of a wealthy country, Henry has several impressive palaces that he moves among, his favorite being Hampton Court, which was originally built for someone else but became Henry’s top choice, just as Mar-a-Lago was built for Marjorie Merriwether Post (once the richest woman in the U.S. and practically royalty) and is now Trump’s favorite residence.

“Wolf Hall” also prompts the question: Who is Trump’s equivalent of Henry’s Thomas Cromwell? That is, who is the “senior advisor” that the powerful leader listens to, counts on, and elevates to greater and greater power (until he decides to break him)?

Is it the wily Susie Wiles?

Is it the Duke of Navarro?

Is it one of the off-stage sons or Ivanka or Kushner? Mercifully, Trump’s own sons and daughter (and their spouses and paramours) have been largely invisible during this term. Who decided that? Why? We don’t know.

Is it Stephen Miller, whose fingerprints are on many of the most vicious Trump policies?

Is it Boris Epshteyn, who cagily plots off-camera?

And who the f--- is Laura Loomer? She swoops in, like a jester in “Wolf Hall,” and heads roll.

The important thing is no one really knows who has the king’s ear. That’s a feature of life in a royal court. Everyone must exert all their efforts to striving to please the monarch, but there is no way to know where any particular courtier ranks in the king’s favor at any given moment – until it is too late, that is. Many find out their stock has fallen only when they are suddenly marched off to the Tower of London.

There are, of course, some superficial “fun facts” linking Henry Tudor and Donald Trump. Both redheads, King Henry and Would-be King Donald had multiple wives (six for Henry, three — so far — for Donald).

Both men engaged in performative shows of their strength and wealth. Henry liked to go on shooting hunts at his many royal estates; Donald likes to shoot golf balls on his many golf courses. Both men liked to show off their wealth by gilding almost everything in sight – just as Henry favored gold cloth, so Donald is now gilding more and more surfaces in the Oval Office.

But aside from such coincidences, one quality of both men is a matter of dead seriousness: their shared sense of self-conception. That sense begins with a feeling of a “right to rule” – that is, a feeling of entitlement to the exercise of power, which can be demonstrated (to themselves and others) only by the impulsive use of arbitrary power to command the public’s attention.

If such rulers can be checked by legislatures or by courts, that is proof that their right to rule is limited. If they can be shamed by religious leaders or doctrines, their right to rule is potentially sinful or sacrilegious. If they can be thwarted by their wives or relations, their right to rule is compromised. If they lack money and armies and navies, their right to rule can be overthrown by external rivals. So, they endlessly try to amass power.

And yet, in the end, they always fail.

Both Henry and Donald make such a mess of things that people eventually begin to question their right to rule. The chaos they create ultimately disproves the merit of their rule. And in the end, they both die and leave many lessons behind for the rest of us.

So, on this Patriots Day, let us all saddle up and ride with Paul Revere to spread the word that we shall have no kings here!

Christopher B. Daly is a journalist, historian, and prize-winning author for his book, Covering America: A Narrative History of a Nation’s Journalism.