One of the privileged things about being a journalist is the opportunity old articles give you to look back at the past as you witnessed it. These opportunities can sometimes be rewarding — such as looking back at an interview with a successful entrepreneur who had just started out at the time. They can be also utterly perplexing, a reminder of how differently the world can turn out from the way we had imagined it.
Ten years ago, while at another publication, I interviewed, by telephone, a person then mostly considered an eccentric entertainer and head of an American business who was intent on setting up the “greatest golf course in the world”. I’m referring to Donald Trump, of course. It was a brief but efficient and courteous phone call. He took me by surprise with a compliment (“I like your [British] accent”). He enthused over the recent decision by a Scottish council to overturn a local committee decision to block the golf course, suggesting that it highlighted the strengths of Scottish democracy. At the time, the controversy over the golf course attracted much public attention as it had the classic elements of a riveting story: the foreign billionaire; the individuals standing up to him (they included Michael Forbes, a farmer who refused to sell his land no matter); the government bodies weighing up the clamour from business and others for the project to go ahead (they argued that hundreds of jobs depended on it) against the environmental concerns as well as the apprehensions of some locals who believed it would fundamentally change the face of the community.
Since last November and the U.S. election, I have on occasion looked back at the moment and the little published piece — wishing I could remember better the tiny, telling details we journalists are asked to look out for, for anything that could have given me a glimpse of what was to come: the man who was to emerge. Certainly Mr. Trump’s comments (not just to me) suggested some of the characteristics he’s become known for since — his eagerness to lavish praise on those who had worked in his favour (such as “Scottish democracy”) while using the most damning language for anyone who stood in his way (he had referred, though not when speaking to me, to Mr. Forbes’ home as a slum, and the farmer as living “like a pig”), his inclination to bombast (this was to be not just a golf course but the greatest one in the world), and his need for self-praise (the Scottish people loved the project, he insisted). His proclivity for threats: not giving the go ahead would make him seek out a “very spectacular” location outside the country. A hint of the man who had come to dominate the world and whose single tweet has the potential fundamentally to alter the rights of individuals and the standing of nations: not an iota.
For me it’s a valuable reminder: we journalists are constantly presented with opportunities to provide snapshots of moments and people. We can take stabs at where they’ll lead, but more than often they’ll surprise, in a pleasant or disquieting way.
