Hostile historians may come to regard Donald Trump's presidency as an aggregation of the lesser traits of his predecessors. The bullying of Lyndon Baines Johnson, who demeaned White House aides and even humiliated his Vice-President Hubert Humphrey - forcing his deputy once to recite a speech on Vietnam while he listened, legs akimbo, trousers round his ankles, on the toilet. The intellectual incuriosity of Ronald Reagan, who once apologised to his then White House Chief of Staff James Baker for not reading his briefing books with the immortal excuse: "Well, Jim, The Sound of Music was on last night." The shameless lies of Bill Clinton about his affair with Monica Lewinsky. The paranoia of Richard Nixon, who in his final days railed, King Lear-like, at portraits hanging on the White House walls. The incompetence of George W Bush, whose failure to master basic governance partly explained his administration's botched response to the aftermath of the war in Iraq and also to Hurricane Katrina. The historical amnesia of Gerald Ford, whose assertion during a 1976 presidential debate that Eastern Europe was not dominated by Moscow was a forerunner of Trump's recent endorsement of the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. The strategic impatience of Barack Obama, whose instinct always was to withdraw US forces from troublesome battlefields, such as Iraq, even if the mission had not yet been completed. Even the distractedness of John F Kennedy, who whiled away afternoons in the White House swimming pool with a bevy of young women to sate his libido, a sexualised version, perhaps, of Donald Trump sitting for his hours in front of his flat-screen TV watching friendly right-wing anchors massage his ego. At the midpoint of Donald Trump's first term, historians have struggled to detect the kind of virtues that offset his predecessors' vices: the infectious optimism of Reagan; the inspirational rhetoric of JFK; the legislative smarts of LBJ; or the governing pragmatism of Nixon. So rather than being viewed as the reincarnation of Ronald Reagan or Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Trump gets cast as a modern-day James Buchanan, Franklin Pierce or William Harrison. Last year, a poll of nearly 200 political science scholars, which has routinely placed Republicans higher than Democrats, ranked him 44th out of the 44 men who have occupied the post (for those wondering why Trump is the 45th president, Grover Cleveland served twice). Though the president has likened himself to Abraham Lincoln, who posterity has deemed to be greatest of all presidents, this survey judged him to be the worst of the worst. Even the conservative scholars, who identified themselves as Republicans, placed him 40th. Were it not for his braggadocio, Donald Trump might receive a more positive historical press. A recurring problem, after all, is that he gets judged against his boasts. He can point to a significant record of right-wing accomplishment. Tax reform. Two Supreme Court nominees safely installed on the bench. The travel ban. The bonfire of federal regulations. Criminal justice reform. Legislative action aimed at ameliorating the opioid crisis. Nato members ponying up more cash. Annual wage growth is at a nine-year high. 2018 was the best year for job creation since 2015. Many of his campaign pledges, such as the renegotiation of the Nafta free-trade agreement and the relocation of the US embassy in Israel from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem, have been kept. Promise made, promise kept is one of his boasts that regularly rings true. ften, though, he blunts the impact of authentic good news with inflated claims. US Steel is not opening up six new plants. He is not the author of the biggest tax cut in American history. Besides, the trade war has penalised US manufacturers and farmers, and in 2018 the stock market suffered its worst year since the 2008 financial meltdown. This market volatility highlights other Trump tendencies contributing to his poor reviews: pointing to a buoyant stock market as a metric of personal success, the downside of which is the downswing; and blaming others when things go south, in this case the Chairman of the Federal Reserve, Jerome Powell. Trump sits in the Oval Office behind what's called the Resolute desk, hewn from the timber of an abandoned British warship and first used by John F Kennedy, a former navy man himself. But on it you will not find the desk sign favoured by Harry S Truman: "The Buck Stops Here." This America First president is himself an American first. Indeed, a further reason for the disdain of historians is because, historically speaking, his administration has been like no other. The chaos of staff turnover - two secretaries of state, two secretaries of defence, two attorneys general, three White House chiefs of staff, and a revolving door of senior West Wing aides. The foreign policy by tweet. The chumminess with adversarial authoritarian leaders, such as Kim Jong-un and Vladimir Putin. The blurring of ethical lines supposedly separating the Trump White House from the Trump business empire. The Russia collusion investigation, which has raised questions, so far unsettled, about his true allegiance.   AFP.