We e are in the midst of one of the most fantastic presidential campaigns in history, and I choose the word “fantastic” deliberately. Part of this campaign involves the fantasy of one candidate who portrays himself differently from moment to moment, repeatedly exaggerates his life’s accomplishments, and pretends to be the reflection of what a portion of the electorate wants as opposed to what he is. He is an illusion masquerading as a reality.
All of us, not just those who support him, have fallen for this sideshow, have been transfixed by this traffic accident of a candidate.
But this candidate, Donald Trump, is not the issue. Seeing Trump for who he is makes us feel superior. But defining Trump is irrelevant. What we need to look at is why so many Americans are rallying around him and responding to his message and his style.
On one level, Trump’s campaign proves that in this great country, almost anyone could become president. On another level, it shows that not everyone should become president.
But the lesson we really need to construct revolves around the question of whether we are able to listen to those who follow someone we don’t respect. Is it possible that despite the apparent unworthiness of their candidate, they might have a respectable reason for following him?
II was a teacher for a good part of my life and have done a great deal of professional development with teachers. On one occasion, more than 10 years ago, I was asked to lead a session for future teachers at Columbia University’s Teachers College addressing issues that affected the LGBTQ community. In the class, professors shifted topics each week, with an aim to cover the content but focus on the teaching practice — that is, how to teach a lesson.
I devised an introductory comment to the class in which I intentionally made every mistake I could think of when referring to or describing people who are gay or lesbian. I talked about “a gay lifestyle,” “people who choose to be gay,” and “gay people as compared to the general population.” (There is no “gay lifestyle,” people don’t “choose to be gay,” and gay people are part of the general population.) I wanted to see if these students, these future teachers, would stop me.
But they didn’t. They sat silently, waiting for the next part of my presentation.
Having finished, I asked for their reactions to my introduction and if anyone took issue with it? Did anyone think the words I used were inappropriate or just plain wrong?
Many hands went up.
I was taken aback. “Why, then,” I asked, “didn’t any of you say anything while I was talking?”
Their answer stunned me and helped me see the students’ desperation. They told me that despite my egregious language errors, they were thrilled that someone, anyone, was even bringing up the topic. In all their classes at Teachers College and elsewhere, nobody was addressing issues that might affect gay and lesbian students and teachers, (Remember, this was 10 years ago.)
When you have an option between nothing and a damaged something, you take the something because it at least gives you hope.
These students weren’t racists or fascists or backwoods yokels. They knew what they were hearing, that it was wrong, and yet they were ready to follow me in that class.
TThe memory of their response echoes with me every time I hear Trump supporters. I could have written off those students — why didn’t I? Could it be that they were already accredited as being “smart” because they were at a prestigious school like Teachers College?
The people I see in focus groups who support Trump come with no résumés. I judge them only by their appearance. It is easy to write them off, but we do so at our own peril. They represent a sizable group of people in this country who feel abandoned. Many once held their heads high by working hard. Some were factory workers. Some were salesmen. Some were midlevel managers. They didn’t necessarily love their jobs, but they felt good at the end of the day. When they arrived home, they knew they’d put in an honest day’s work and had provided for their family. They had pride.
But things have changed dramatically. Too many of those people today cannot make ends meet, cannot find jobs, or are paid less than they need to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads. They live in present disappointment and in fear of a future that looks bleaker than today. They have asked for help. The folks they voted for promised change and have not delivered. Or worse: Nobody asked them what they needed, and most have ignored their cries for help.
Trump is not an answer. But he represents a “sticking it to those other guys” for failing this group so badly. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
AAs the Trump train heads toward the election station, two things clearly could happen. He could win, or he could lose. If he wins, I’m ready to find another great place to live. But if he loses, a complacency could settle over us that might be a harbinger of even worse things to come.
The people who are following him are despairing and potentially desperate. His loss will fit a narrative of conspiracy conducted by intellectuals or the insiders or the elite. That narrative can be taken up by an even more artful, demagogic, and villainous character than Trump. At the end of the day, Trump is an opportunist. His ideology is not a mean one—it is a “me” one.
AAfter November’s election, after we (hopefully) dismiss this impersonator of a candidate, we must be careful not to dismiss his followers. We must address their pain and cries for help. We must see them for the real people they are.
All it will take is another severe economic dislocation to multiply their numbers and bring a far more dangerous person to power, a more resolute warrior who will use whatever means necessary to “turn this country around” and “root out the evil that is keeping us from being great.”
These promises require extreme measures. The only cost this person will ask is that we abandon democratic institutions and values. It has happened before.
Disclaimer: The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in this article belong solely to the author, and not necessarily to BRIGHT Magazine.
