“Do You Know Who I Know?”

How Donald Trump turned entitlement into a governing philosophy

By LONNIE KING

There may be no sentence that more efficiently communicates entitlement than this one:

“Do you know who I am?”

We recognize what it means immediately.

It is rarely a sincere request for identification. It is not usually asked by someone who fears they have been forgotten. It is a warning.

The speaker is telling the restaurant host, police officer, airline employee, security guard, customer-service representative, or Little League umpire that the ordinary rules are about to encounter an extraordinary person.

You may think the policy applies to everyone. But do you know who I am?

Professional golfer Bryson DeChambeau reportedly introduced an even more obnoxious variation during the British Open:

“Do you know who I know?”

Two Strokes and One Powerful Friend

DeChambeau received a two-stroke penalty after officials determined that he had improved the conditions affecting his swing by stepping on long grass behind his ball.

He disputed the ruling.

That, by itself, is not especially remarkable. Athletes disagree with officials all the time. Golf has rules officials and review procedures precisely because reasonable people can interpret an incident differently.

DeChambeau was entitled to ask for an explanation. He was entitled to explain why he believed the ruling was incorrect. He was entitled to use whatever appeal process the tournament provided. But according to multiple reports, that was not where he stopped.

DeChambeau reportedly threatened to withdraw from the tournament and invoke his friendship with Donald Trump if the penalty was not overturned.

To be clear, DeChambeau has not publicly confirmed that account, and tournament officials have not commented on it. It should therefore be treated as a reported allegation rather than an established fact.

I hope it is not true. Because if it is, it represents an extraordinary display of borrowed entitlement.

Not merely, “I believe you got the call wrong.” And not even, “Do you know who I am?” But, “Do you know who I can call?”

Disagreement Is Not Entitlement

There is an important difference between disagreeing with a decision and believing your status should exempt you from it.

“I believe the official interpreted the rule incorrectly” is disagreement.

“I would like this decision reviewed through the established process” is an appeal.

“If you do not reverse this decision, I will call the president” is an attempt to place personal influence above the process.

That is what transforms this from a silly golf controversy into something larger.

The problem is not that DeChambeau believed the ruling was wrong. The problem is the reported belief that his relationship with someone powerful should matter.

The rules official should not care whether a golfer knows the president. The penalty should not be different because the golfer has millions of followers, enormous wealth, a major championship trophy, or a presidential phone number stored in his contacts.

Either the rule applies or it does not.

Either the penalty was warranted or it was not.

“Who do you know?” should never enter the equation.

Entitlement From the Top

This kind of behavior is not an accidental departure from Trumpism. It is one of the defining lessons Donald Trump has taught his followers.

Trump did not invent entitlement. Powerful people have been trying to escape consequences for as long as power has existed.

But Trump has turned entitlement into something resembling a governing philosophy.

If I lose, the result must be fraudulent. If a court rules against me, the judge must be corrupt. If an investigation implicates me, it must be a witch hunt. If an official refuses my demand, that official must be disloyal.

If a rule produces an outcome I dislike, the problem is the rule or the person enforcing it. If I possess enough power, influence, or loyal supporters, the outcome should be changed.

We saw the most dangerous expression of that philosophy following the 2020 presidential election.

Donald Trump lost.

He had every right to request recounts where the law allowed them. He had every right to pursue legitimate legal challenges. He had every right to present credible evidence of irregularities to the appropriate authorities.

But he did not merely ask officials to verify the results without regard to the outcome.

During a January 2, 2021, telephone call with Georgia Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger, Trump said, “I just want to find 11,780 votes.”

That number was not random. It was exactly one more vote than he needed to erase Joe Biden’s certified margin of victory in Georgia.

Trump did not approach that conversation as someone willing to accept whatever an honest process produced. He began with the outcome he wanted and pressured election officials to help produce it.

The result could not possibly stand because the result was unfavorable to him.

The Result Cannot Stand Because It Happened to Me

The stakes in a presidential election and a golf tournament are obviously not comparable. One concerns the peaceful transfer of power in the world’s most influential democracy. The other concerns two strokes on a scorecard. But the reflex is remarkably similar.

The result cannot stand because it happened to me.

Trump lost Georgia and pressured an election official to find the votes he needed. DeChambeau received a penalty and reportedly threatened to summon Trump to help get the ruling overturned. The scale is dramatically different. The sense of entitlement is not.

Donald Trump has spent years teaching his followers that losing is not something honorable people accept. Losing is something weak people admit. He has taught them that accountability is persecution. He has taught them that concession is surrender.

He has taught them that rules are not standards to which everyone submits. They are weapons to be enforced when they favor us and obstacles to be attacked when they do not. His followers act entitled because he does.

They did not independently develop this sense of privilege and then happen to find a political leader who shared it. They have watched him demonstrate it repeatedly. They have watched him deny defeats, attack judges, malign election workers, intimidate opponents, demand personal loyalty, and dismiss virtually every attempt at accountability as illegitimate.

He models the behavior. They imitate it.

Rules for You, Exceptions for Me

This is one of the great contradictions within the MAGA movement. The people who constantly rail against “elites” seem remarkably comfortable with elite privilege when they believe they have access to it.

They condemn special treatment while demanding special treatment.

They denounce government overreach while hoping the president will reach into a golf tournament and change a ruling for his friend.

They insist that everyone should follow the rules until one of the rules produces an outcome they do not like.

Then the referee is biased. The judge is corrupt. The election was stolen. The tournament official is incompetent. The system is rigged.

The problem is never what their hero did. The problem is that someone had the audacity to hold him accountable for doing it.

Trumpism presents itself as a revolt against privilege. But its underlying promise is often privilege of another kind:

• Our people should be able to do what your people cannot.
• Our victories are legitimate. Yours are suspicious.
• Our authority must be respected. Yours can be ignored.
• The rules apply to you, but we know someone.

A Game Built on Personal Accountability

Golf may be the worst possible sport in which to make this argument.

The mythology of golf is built around personal integrity. Golfers are expected to call penalties on themselves, even when no official or opponent witnessed the violation.

The ideal is not that powerful players should be able to escape the rules. The ideal is that character is revealed by what a player does when he could escape them.

That does not mean every ruling is correct. It does not mean players must remain silent when they believe an official has made a mistake. A fair process should always allow questions, explanations, and appropriate review. But the review should be based on the rule and the evidence. It should not depend on who is asking.

And it certainly should not depend on whose personal telephone number he possesses.

Perhaps the reports about DeChambeau are wrong. Again, I hope they are. But if the story is accurate, the most troubling part is not that a golfer became angry over two strokes. Athletes get angry. Competitors argue. Officials sometimes make questionable decisions.

The troubling part is that calling the president of the United States apparently seemed like a reasonable next step.

“Do you know who I am?” has always been an ugly question.

“Do you know who I know?” may be even worse.

Because the most revealing form of entitlement is not believing the rules do not exist. It is believing they exist only for people with less power than you.

Grace and grit to you! –LK