After Donald Trump asked voters at a recent rally to raise their hands heavenward in a pledge of fealty to him, a few commentators frothed at the gesture's supposed evocation of a Nazi salute.
That wasn't my take. As much as Trump appalls me, I don't assign him control over the precise arcs of his supporters' arms.
I was and am transfixed by something else: the scope and intensity of his hunger for adulation. It's bottomless, topless, endless, insatiable. He gazed upon a teeming arena of admirers and neither their presence nor their numbers was quite enough.
He ached for an extra exhibition of their ardor. He had to issue a command and revel in their obeisance. I'm surprised only that he didn't ask them to kneel or genuflect, but that could still come. The primaries slog on. The general election looms.
And Trump's campaign events have become increasingly unsettling affairs, by turns ludicrous and scary.
One night he's turning a supposed victory celebration into an obliquely relevant pitch for Trump wine, Trump water and Trump steaks, to a point where he almost seems poised to bark out a toll-free number and urge consumers to "order now." Another night he's canceling a speech in Chicago at the last minute because the gathering has devolved into violent chaos.
Trump's candidacy has uncorked more words and analysis than perhaps any in my lifetime, as those of us flailing to make sense of him reach for new insights, novel theories, deeper understanding.
But while his appeal may be layered, his drive isn't. What set him in motion was a compulsion to see his face flickering across TV screens, his handle popping up in retweets, his minions arrayed before him. What eggs him on is the sound of his name uttered by pundits, rivals, crowds. To his ears it's a music sweeter than Beethoven's, saucier than Beyonce's. He tangos to it, or at least his itty-bitty heart does. And he can't quite hear or fully appreciate the ugliness of some of the noise he has whipped up.
Everything about Trump's campaign can be explained in terms of substance abuse: He's addicted to attention, demanding regular fixes and going to ever greater lengths - in terms of reckless statements and provocative acts - to get them.
Imagine what that would mean for a Trump presidency. His agenda wouldn't be conservative, moderate, liberal or for that matter coherent. It would be self-affirming and self-aggrandizing: whatever it takes to remain the focus of everyone's gaze, the syllable tumbling from everyone's lips. Trump, Trump, Trump.
It's no surprise that some of the instructors at Trump University pressured students into writing rave reviews of the school, as The Times' Michael Barbaro and Steve Eder recently documented. It existed chiefly to make Trump feel good about himself.
Of course some of the groupies at Trump's rallies turn physically aggressive, a phenomenon that drew closer scrutiny and more alarm last week. The man they worship is an agent of agitation with little restraint or decorum of his own.
Commentators keep marveling at the way he "dominates" or "owns" almost every news cycle, as if what he says and does are all plotted in advance and part of some sophisticated, disciplined political strategy.
But is he executing a plan or surrendering to a jones? Brilliant or just fruitfully pathological? He mints fresh insults to monopolize the spotlight, but that's most likely a spontaneous reaction to how cold and lonely he becomes whenever it starts to recede. Maybe he's a multimedia mastermind, maybe just a publicity glutton. There's a difference.
Note the oddity and questionable utility of the frequency with which he still makes those telephone calls to cable news shows and sits down with interrogators. Most politicians with a lead like his would be protecting it somewhat, playing things a bit safer, running out the clock - as he seemed to be doing, belatedly and for the first time, during the debate Thursday night. A normal front-runner under normal circumstances minimizes his or her exposure, lest a moment be fumbled and a mistake made.
Not Trump. He has been an interview machine, an interview mill. He can't help himself. Last week he had two chats with the crew at MSNBC's "Morning Joe" and a long sit-down with CNN's Anderson Cooper. He did Fox News at least five times. He did NBC's "Today," ABC's "Good Morning America" and CBS' "Face the Nation."
Are there networks on which he hasn't appeared? Possibly the Cartoon Network (though it would be fitting).
When returns come in, other candidates give their speeches and then dash off. Trump lingers, taking question after question from the media. He won't go away. That's madness if the aim is a refined message after a triumphant performance, but not if the purpose is to prolong the show and thus enlarge the portion of coverage on which he feeds. Gorging is his real goal.
That's fine by us journalists. It's welcomed. It makes our jobs easier. It makes us feel relevant.
We complain incessantly about politicians who neglect us, who don't indulge our requests readily, who skimp on news conferences.
But their reasons are often sound. They understand that everything they say has weight and consequence: that at a certain altitude of leadership, words matter greatly and carry great risk. Trump's failure to grasp this was evident in his comment in February about a protester who was being ejected from an event in Las Vegas. "I'd like to punch him in the face," Trump fumed. A leader must speak with care - and in careful measure.
There's only one measure for Trump: more. More products bearing his brand. More buildings blaring his name. He's a modern-day Midas, with a vain twist. Everything he touches turns to Trump.
He insists on that. Craves it. No reassurance sustains him for too long; no validation suffices. That would be as true of Trump the president as it is of Trump the candidate, and it would dictate the terms and the tempo of a reign from which this country would not soon recover.
© 2016, The New York Times News Service
(This story has not been edited by NDTV staff and is auto-generated from a syndicated feed.)