The President of the United States, confronted by a heckler, elected not to ignore, rebut, or transcend the moment, but instead to raise a single finger in reply, thereby advancing the cause of executive decorum by removing it entirely.

This was no ordinary finger. It was a presidential finger—invested, implicitly, with the authority of the Constitution, the nuclear codes, and the solemn oaths of office. In that brief upward motion, centuries of how a President represents the country were distilled into a gesture universally understood by teenagers, motorists, and men who believe shouting is leadership.

Defenders of the act assure us that this is “authenticity.” The President is merely being himself, they say, as though the purpose of the office were to provide a national platform for impulses previously restrained by social convention. Authenticity, once a literary virtue, has now been redefined as behaving in public exactly as one would in a bar, after having a few too many, at closing time.

Critics, meanwhile, have expressed concern that the gesture was unbecoming. This is an understatement. It is like observing that setting your home on fire is an inefficient way to heat a home. The presidency, after all, is not a street corner, and the bully pulpit was not intended for finger choreography. A president should stand above the crowd, not compete to be its most obnoxious voice.

One must admire the efficiency of the exchange. Where earlier leaders labored to articulate disdain through speeches, vetoes, or diplomatic rebukes, Donald Trump has streamlined communication to its most elemental form. No translators required. No ambiguity is allowed. The message was clear, concise, and entirely empty of thought.

The heckler, we are told, provoked the response. This is a comforting explanation, as it suggests that power is absolved of responsibility whenever irritation or frustration occurs. By this logic, the presidency is a mood ring, changing color with each passing annoyance. Governance becomes reaction. Leadership becomes impulsive.

There was a time when presidents were mocked, booed, caricatured, and opposed with vigor, yet managed to keep all ten fingers employed in non-symbolic tasks. That era has been declared elitist. Why rise above when one can descend to the lowest level?

The true tragedy is not the gesture itself, but what it reveals: a shrinking idea of the office of the Presidency and a growing belief that authority is best exercised through contempt. The finger was not aimed merely at a heckler. It was aimed at the notion that power requires discipline.

In raising it, Donald Trump lowered himself and everything else.