Reporter's Notebook

We know, watching Amistad and Glory and Gettysburg, that slavery would soon end. They didn’t. (I recently revisited The Souls of Black Folk (1903) and was astonished at how DuBois—a maximalist disinclined to accommodate the status quo—assumed that the struggle for integration and civil rights was unlikely to begin, even haltingly, for another century.)  

We know that the Know-Nothings and the America Firsters would come to nothing; they didn’t. We know that the Bund and the Anarchists would be squibs, that Eugene Debs and George Wallace would not get traction.  They didn’t.

The time capsule reminds us that—sooner than we can imagine—this struggle will be a history lesson. It will soon take an act of will to remember that the nature of that lesson was not always self-evident. The Founding Fathers thought long and hard about a candidate like Trump, and the danger that could be posed by a short-fingered vulgarian was seldom far from their minds. Ancient democracies had failed when faced with such men: Alcibiades, Sulla, Cataline, Clodius, Octavian. Designing a democracy that would not succumb was their explicit intent. (John Adams, I think, was never comfortable that they had done enough.)

But, even if (as I fully expect) the center holds and Trump will soon take his deserved place in the pantheon of political parables—joining George Wallace, Strom Thurmond, Charles Lindbergh, John Calhoun, Neville Chamberlain, Pierre Laval—we’ll need to recapture that terrible moment when, it seemed, Trump could conceivably win.

***

As the campaign has ground on, Donald Trump has changed from entertaining oddity to genuine menace. Lest there be any doubt: I believe him to be less qualified by background and knowledge than any other major-party nominee in U.S. history, and more dangerous by temperament than anyone who has previously been this close to power. I have disagreed deeply with some American presidents — George W. Bush, to choose an obvious example, with his Iraq war policy, the torture regime and Guantanamo, and economic management. But I never doubted for a minute that Bush took the job seriously and was doing his best.

Nothing about Trump is serious. It would be a grave failure of American democracy, which would be laughed at and worried about in every corner of world, and a serious (though likely not fatal) threat to its ongoing viability for Trump to gain power.

So I’m not just puffing a pipe and sipping a sherry as I contemplate the slide toward the abyss.

The question is how journalism can be most useful, in these circumstances. I don’t think anything the Atlantic publishes is going to shake Trump’s support among his enthusiastic base. There are a certain number of states he is going to carry. The points of potential leverage are, first, the Vichy Republicans (Ryan, McConnell, Priebus, Rubio, et al), to try to demonstrate the danger and the historical stain they’ll bear for accommodating Trump; and everyone else, to demonstrate the stakes. Those are the audiences I have in mind.

This is the most useful way I, personally, know to lay out the case. And meanwhile, I’m trying to make a record, for later on, of what it was like while there was a chance he could succeed.  This started on a whim last month. We’ll see how and whether it should continue or evolve.

***

Another reader has a different objection—and agreement:

#18—I would give Trump a pass on the accusation of racism in his reference to Warren as “Pocahantas.” 

He’s not characterizing her ethnicity.  He’s making a sarcastic comment about her alleged effort to use her fractional ethnic heritage (whether real or fictional) to get favored treatment in admissions to college or law school (I forget which).  His point is that she’s not really Native American.  It’s immature and silly, but not really racist.  Of course, I have no doubt that Trump is a racist.  Who knows what he really thinks, but words and actions are all we ever have to go on.
 
#19—How many things are wrong with Trump’s tweets following the tragedy in Orlando?  There’s the narcissism: the self-congratulatory pat on the back while at the same time claiming he doesn’t want the pat.

There’s the immediate assumption, before any meaningful investigation or facts, that this is “radical Islamic terrorism” (ignoring the possibility that this was just one fucked-up, angry mentally unstable guy).  

There’s the nonsense about the ban, which would have been irrelevant here since the perpetrator was US born and a citizen.  

There’s the attack on Obama as being weak and ineffectual, which, even if true, would have been completely irrelevant to this situation.

There’s the beyond absurd complaint about Obama refusing to refer to “radical Islam”.  Obama and others have explained the tactical reasoning behind the language they use and don’t use so many times that there can be no doubt that most Republican elected officials know why he doesn’t use those terms.  When they criticize him for this they’re just being dishonest and playing politics.  Is Trump aware of the thinking behind the Administration’s choice of language?  He should be.  

There’s the “it’s just the beginning”, which is designed to create fear.

Finally, there’s his reference to “toughness and vigilance”, as though our intelligence agencies and law enforcement agencies aren’t there already.  (Meaningless words, anyway.)
 
More generally, two aspects of this are highly offensive:  First, that Trump is spouting off even before all of the facts are in.  Second, that he’s exploiting this tragedy for his own personal political gain.  I note that that’s different than exploiting the event to make a political point, such as to advocate for gun control.  Some may consider that inappropriate, but it’s certainly less offensive than what Trump has done here.

Some Sanders supporters may be tempted to stay home or park their vote with Gary Johnson's Libertarians. That would really be tragic if it helps elect Trump. One thing to watch is whether Johnson can gain the 15 per cent poll support needed to participate in the main TV debates. Third parties can play spoiler roles in U.S. elections: Teddy Roosevelt helped elect Taft; Ross Perot helped elect Bill Clinton; Nader, Bush; etc. 

Of course, it’s just as likely that the Libertarians will hurt the Trump GOP ticket. Johnson’s social liberalism (e.g. legalizing pot) comes along with a bunch of extreme economic laissez-faire and isolationism.
 
Sanders seems to be hoping that something like an email indictment will derail Clinton before the convention, but it's more likely the delegates would draft Biden in that event. That would increase the likelihood of progressive desertion or third-party votes with potentially disastrous consequences. 

Five months of roller-coaster drama ahead, I think.

***

3) What “he’s a Mexican!” really meant. A reader originally from the UK, now part of the tech industry in the US, writes about Trump’s much-discussed comments on Judge Curiel:

My reaction to Trump’s ‘Mexican’ interview on CNN (thanks to time capsule #12) was that he was being intentionally doubled-tongued. He was pandering to a racist audience with the appearance of racism, while careful choosing his words so as to be able to later make a defence a la “look closely at what I said—it wasn’t racist.” Specifically, his logic would be:

1. The judge has strong ties to Mexico
2. The judge is proud of those ties
3. I am building a wall to keep out Mexicans
4. Such a wall is an affront to Mexican pride
5. Any person proud of Mexico would be affronted by my action
6. The judge is a proud Mexican, so would be affronted by my action
7. A judge who is affronted by my actions could not give me a fair trial

He wouldn't use those words, I’m sure. But that’s the “defence back-up plan” I heard in that interview. Of course point #7 is logically flawed, but not in way that is directly racist.

Specifically the non-sequitur at 00:17 where he says, “Look, he’s proud of his heritage. I’m building a wall,” is otherwise suspicious. 

What he pathologically and knowingly ignored is that the very appearance of being racist causes the same harm to society as actually being racist. I.e. when one appears to be racist in front of an audience that may include people who are marginally racist, one re-enforces their racism. Among an audience of 300 million that harm is huge. No amount of later back-pedaling the logic can undo that.

What he clearly mis-judged was that for a presidential candidate the very appearance of being racist, no matter it's potential back-pedalability, would also be harmful to his campaign. 

Thanks to all. 

If it was six weeks, well, that would be one thing, but even in early September, after he’s been pounded and exposed and said more damaging, desperate, ugly things, he’ll still be faced with two months of campaigning, scrutiny, media questions and debates. 

I don’t really expect it, but I also wouldn’t be surprised if he suddenly came up with a “health problem” or some other fairly transparent excuse to declare victory and go home with some of his remaining fortune intact. I have no idea what the structural impacts would be—his name would still be on the ballot, and a replacement candidate would not—but chaos and madness surrounding such an outcome would be a civics lesson in extremis …

But by that point, would Trump’s “remaining fortune” and its sustainability be worth much? Reader Chris doesn’t think so, so he contends that Trump has nothing to lose at this point in the race, since his controversial campaign has wrecked his business brand:

I have been thinking about Trump’s exit strategy—Trexit—for quite a while now. At first, I thought his best strategy was to have a contested convention that he loses because of insiders. He wins the popular vote, but insider chicanery ignores the people’s voice. He looks like a hero but doesn’t actually have to govern (and presumably fail at his two primary campaign promises).

Then, I thought that, after hearing that he was losing a lot of support with his high-end business clients, this made less sense. It’d be one thing to speak to his base—we have to solve immigration problems by any means possible, we need to keep America safe by any means possible, etc.—and leverage his name recognition to take the lead and lose at an insider’s game. To damage his brand so significantly as he has, it only made sense to me that he MUST win the presidency because if he doesn’t, what business does he return to?

Now, it’s even worse. First, there are the racist comments. These by themselves would have many business partners walking sideways. But then there is also the investigations into his income as well as his fraud problems. Trump would now be toxic. While it’s a nice story for Trump to back out, what does he back out to? His businesses, at least those that provide a large amount of his income, must be suffering incredibly.

I suppose he can establish businesses where his political base is strong, but I do not see a way for him to maintain any businesses that will support his current lifestyle.

Trump’s donors will probably drop out before he does, according to this lawyer in NYC:

Interesting that, following the MSNBC story on the dysfunctional campaign, Trump’s response is to send out tweets attacking NBC, the reporters etc. This proves the point of the article. The general public doesn’t really care about these “inside baseball” stories. 

But major donors do care. They will be hesitant to contribute to a campaign that (a) doesn’t know how to spend the money and (b) is likely to lose. Trump’s immediate priority should have been (and undoubtedly wasn’t) to go to all of the potential Republican big money donors and assure them that he will right the ship, that there’s plenty of time to get the campaign structure fixed and that he needs contributions now in order to do so. 

If those folks think he’s going to lose, the money won’t be forthcoming in nearly the volume he will need. Even Sheldon Adelson might back off of his commitment to contribute $100 million if he thinks it will all go to waste. It’s increasingly obvious that Trump, despite his ability to attract a certain element, entered into this race without any understanding of what was involved and without bothering to hire some experts who do have an understanding. 

Update from a reader in Oakton, Virginia:

With all the buzz about “Trexit,” I don't understand why anyone thinks it would make a difference (other than in a kind of political cosmetology).  Of course Donald Trump is incapable of governing; but so is the Republican Party of which he is now the de facto leader. But Trump never has really pretended to care about governance, and he’s not in power; whereas they have, and they are. That Republicans cannot govern is shown every day in state governments from Maine to Alabama to Kansas, and in both houses of Congress. Getting rid of Trump might allow Republican leaders to conceal this fact for one more electoral cycle, at least from hackish pundits and politically unaware voters, but it will not address the real issue. And it is that issue—the need for a new and different Republican Party—on which we should be concentrating.

And from another reader in California:

Trump’s attack on the judge and his demand that his surrogates pile on, and also attack as “racist” any journalists who question what they are doing—this is Trump doing what he seems always to do. He focuses all his energy and rhetoric and bullying on the crisis right at hand (the lawsuit about the Trump U fraud) with no consideration at all for the long-term effects or more important priorities.

I can practically hear him saying, “The convention? We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. It’ll be a cakewalk. People love me.” 

Think of only what is happening now, and take care of the future when it arrives. The idea seems to be that if you can solve any crisis (“Easy!”), then you might as well tackle the one closest to hand, and deal with the others as you get to them: since you can solve them as they come, no biggie. 

He’s way out of his depth, and I don’t think he’s quite realized it yet.

***

From another reader on the East Coast who is a lawyer, on my comment that Trump’s harping on the civil-suit against Trump U is a weird self-inflicted distraction from the real business of the campaign:

Your statement that the Trump University lawsuit has nothing to do with the presidential campaign isn’t really correct; it’s more complicated than that.  

Clearly, Trump and the “University”’s actions in conducting business, and the revelations coming from Trump’s deposition, reflect pretty badly on the candidate. It’s more or less true that the lawsuit itself, separate and apart from the underlying facts, isn’t all that relevant to the campaign, particularly since as a result of Judge Curiel’s order, the trial won’t take place until after the election (a decision for which Trump ought to be down on his knees thanking the judge).

It’s impossible to tell if Trump’s ranting about Curiel is a strategic move to attempt to blunt the impact of the revelations coming out or whether it’s just Trump obsessively interjecting into the middle of the campaign his petulant complaints about the way he feels he’s been treated in a purely private lawsuit. I tend to go with the latter, since I think Trump’s impulsiveness and narcissism makes it very difficult for him to operate strategically in this campaign. He’s taken what is essentially his sense of aggrievement in a personal matter and brought it into his campaign, simply because he can’t help it.

Plus, I think this tendency on his part to speak and act impulsively may have been exacerbated in the last week or so by the pressure building up on his campaign. A withering attack by Hillary, the increasing push-back he’s now experiencing from the media, the fact that he is increasingly being confronted with his own lies and contradictory statements, what appears to be terrible tensions and infighting in the campaign, the lack of funds—all of this may be pushing him to act less rationally, more impulsively, to lash out, to feel that he’s being treated “unfairly” by everyone.

Interesting that his children haven’t been visible in the campaign in the last week or so.

More security showed up along with the head of security who seemed like he could have been the president of his fraternity. It didn’t help that another protestor who was on his way out decided to lock arms with me and then started to hurl obscenities at the fraternity president guy, who seemed to pride himself with being firm but fair. And now he had reason to be firm.

I was able to unlock my arm with the other guy just as three police officers arrived. They booted the other guy, and because I must have seemed like an angel by comparison, I got to stay. But they wanted my press credentials. I told them I didn’t have press credentials, which confused them. So then they said something like, “Stay out of trouble,” and they all left.

Outside after the rally there were a lot of police but not very many protestors. A few groups of latinos held Mexican flags and a couple times I heard some Trump supporters shout, “Go back to Mexico.”

As I walked home, I passed some guys hawking Trump hats, shirts, and buttons. I asked one of them, “Are you really for Trump?” He answered by saying he was really for making a living.

***

After the event, I lingered inside the convention hall for about 20 minutes and when I left, there were virtually no protesters I could find—and I spent over an hour looking for them. There were lots of people both pro and anti Trump still around, but there was almost no interaction that I could see. I found four girls chanting “Dump Trump,” but it sounded like they were tired and nobody was paying them any attention.

An announcement from a police helicopter declared that the corner of San Carlos an Almaden was an illegal assembly, but all I saw was about 10 people just standing around and 100 policemen in riot gear.

Up until midnight on the scanner, I heard the police were trying to push about 30 protesters east on San Carlos toward Woz Way. There was a report of somebody picking up and trying to toss a metal barricade and a report of a trash can fire at Chavez Plaza, but that’s about it.

All of the ugly video you see of the violence must have occurred within 20 minutes of the rally as people were exiting. Perhaps they should have been better separated by the police at that time.

The Trump supporters were very nice to me, even those who knew I wasn’t for Trump. And the protesters who saw me carrying my Trump sign didn’t hassle me at all, and a couple tried to engage me in a discussion, not a debate.

Even the beefy security guys in the rally who put their hands on me and started shoving me were only doing what they were told. The assistant to the chief of security, who gave the order to have me booted seemed to be compensating for his short stature with his officious nature. But in his shoes, I might have been stressed out too.

Trump security shouldn’t manhandle protesters and the press should be allowed to be in a position to record that when it happens.

A press pass used to give a journalist access. In the Trump universe, a press pass means you have less access than the general public—which has kind of an Orwellian twist to it, if you want my opinion.

This line stood out to me: “Through my conscious lifetime American society has seemed on the verge of blowing up at least half a dozen times. The episodes have passed; the caravan moves on.”

Despite being a longtime Atlantic reader (and as of a few months ago, a subscriber!) [thank you!], I suspect that at 23 I am on the younger end of your readers. To me, the present political situation is remarkably alarming, as it is the first real moment where I have genuinely feared for the state of America.

I was eight when 9/11 happened, and I remember my struggle to understand how two entire skyscrapers could be laid low. But of the subsequent fear I remember nothing.

I remember nothing of the debates leading to the war in Iraq, though I clearly remember the darkest days. But even then I knew that while the situation was grave, the nation itself was not at risk. I remember a blog of The New York Times declaring “It’s the End of the World as We Know It” as the song of the day as a Wall Street investment bank collapsed (Lehman Brothers, I think—though I haven’t been able to find the post).

But even then, while things looked dire, I trusted that the lessons of the Great Depression had been heeded, and outright crisis would be averted.

Yet now, with what I have wryly taken to calling “the current political situation,” I have genuinely lost faith.

I am a first-generation American, the son of Chinese (now Americans) who left China in the years just before Tiananmen. My girlfriend is Hispanic and Mexican-American. In a rhetorical climate where “Mexican” has become an epithet and China is the evil empire cheating America out of her greatness, I cannot help but begin to feel “othered.”

Your Time Capsule series reads to me like the logbook entries of a doomed sailor stranded at sea, futile missives to a distant, unknown future to catalog a final struggle. I am aware of past historical events that should be on par with Trump’s rise and the febrile GOP partisanship (e.g. the Cuban Missile Crisis, Goldwater’s nomination, the fight for desegregation, the Kent State shootings, the 1968 Chicago Democratic convention), but they lack to me the visceral immediacy of the present situation.

Of course, the polls, economic indicators, conventional wisdom, and betting market predictions all strongly suggest that Hillary Clinton is the strong favorite in the general election. But “strong favorite” still leaves far too much of a chance that Donald Trump would become President.

For those for which this is their first rodeo, what are your thoughts on the other “half a dozen” crises that America has weathered in your lifetime, and what advice might you offer?

For now I’ll say about this last: Good question, very well set up. I will think about the answer. You can send your own to hello@theatlantic.com.

This sensitivity to the audience in immediate view helps explain one of many seeming contradictions of Trump: that he can go so easily from yelling and ranting on the platform to being charming and pussycat-like in other settings, as with the recent smarmy interview with Megyn Kelly. In each case he read the audience shrewdly and then smoothly re-calibrated. And sometimes, of course, he can use part of the crowd as a foil for attacks, when protestors are present (“get ‘em out of here!”) or reporters are questioning him (“you’re a sleaze!”)

Don’t all politicians do this? The good ones all have this ability; it’s what we call EQ. But part of running a modern, internet-age national campaign is recognizing that the audience is never just the people in front of you. Everything is always on the record; the whole world is watching, and then Tweeting and scrutinizing.

***

The contrast between Trump and Bill (not Hillary) Clinton illustrates the point. The reason Bill Clinton has been considered the Secretariat or Usain Bolt of politics is his unmatchable ability to talk with people from any walk of life — clean-up staff at a restaurant, physicists at a research center, black parishioners at a southern gospel church, white millworkers in the northeast — and find a natural rapport. So Clinton’s tone and wording change venue by venue, but his message doesn’t really. He is using a range of skills to advance a more-or-less consistent theme.

Trump is (sort of) similar in instinctively changing his tone and affect. But he’s (obviously) much less controlled about the message. The only continuity is the anger. Whatever he thinks the local crowd is angry about, he’ll say — even if that meant, earlier this year, frightening talk about roughing up or punching protestors, even if it means he picks fights he obviously doesn’t need. Some farmers in central California will cheer a line saying “There is no drought!” Most people in the state will say, WTF?? It’s a fight that made no strategic sense for him to get in the middle of, but it must have sounded good at the time.  

Back during the 1992 campaign, Paul Tsongas, former Senator from Massachusetts, labelled Bill Clinton the “Pander Bear” for what Tsongas thought was Clinton’s willingness to “say anything, do anything to get votes.” The term has been applied, in turn, to Hillary Clinton. But I bet if you mapped variability of message, but audience, the pander-bear pattern would be strongest this cycle for Trump. That is odd given his oft-declared independence from special interests and willingness to speak the blunt truth. But it may help explain his looseness in making outsized claims crowd-by-crowd.

***

Speaking of that 1992 campaign, this SNL cold open from 24 years ago is an amazing time capsule of what is different, and what is surprisingly continuous, in American politics. It has three main figures: Dana Carvey as Jerry Brown, Al Franken as Paul Tsongas, and Phil Hartman as Bill Clinton.

Of course Tsongas and Hartman are both prematurely gone (and Carvey is still in business). But Jerry Brown, then a candidate and ex-governor, is a governor again and is right in the middle of California and national politics, having endorsed Hillary Clinton today; Al Franken, then a sublime comedian, is right in the middle of Democratic politics as a Senator; and as for that guy Bill Clinton ....

On economic issues, I attribute the continued strong role of unions and collective bargaining [in Australia] to compulsory voting.  There is only political disadvantage in seeking to curb economic equality that gives workers a "fair go."

It is such a small change, but I really believe it makes a huge difference in making Australia a more economically fair and politically moderate country than the U.S.

Australia usually appears in the U.S. press in a lifestyle / culture / “Lucky Country” context. Like any nation it has its problems, most obviously now a nasty situation involving quarantine of boat-people refugees. But many aspects of its social contract deserve study and admiration, even if the different history and “path dependencies” of the United States make it difficult to imagine applying them here.

(The most famous of these admirable-but-unmatchable Aussie responses is of course to the “Port Arthur Massacre,” as described here. But beyond that, despite polarizing economic pressures like those affecting every country, Australia has a markedly more egalitarian middle-class sensibility than today’s U.S. does. Tiny but significant illustration: at least for male passengers, you’re expected to ride in the front rather than the back seat of a  taxi. It’s more comfortable — and anyway, who do you think you are, riding around in the back like some toff? The high-minimum-wage/no-tipping social bargain also helps.)

Think how different campaigning would be, if you never had to think about “the turnout game” or “revving up the base.” Not to mention “voter suppression.” Ah well.

But because the United States is now such an old country, considered as a system of government, and because after all the turmoil it has ended up as the strongest and most resilient of nations, it’s very hard not to assume that whatever is today’s crisis will work itself out. Through my conscious lifetime American society has seemed on the verge of blowing up at least half a dozen times. The episodes have passed; the caravan moves on.

With the accumulating evidence of disasters-avoided, it’s also tempting to assume that the recovery process is natural, and organic. And to some extent that’s true: the United States is a shambling entity that can absorb a lot. But I’ve come to think that it’s dangerous to let the mechanics of recovery and self-correction drift out of view. Because the United States has withstood so much, it’s natural to think it will automatically keep doing so, and not to pay attention to the rules, norms, and values that have allowed a loose, diverse, small-l liberal democracy to do as well as it has.

Thus three diverse, dissimilar readings on the mechanics of self-government, in the age of Trump and also the age of Hamilton:

***

The first is an analysis published eight years ago, Paul Graham’s “How to Disagree.” Graham lays out a seven-level “Disagreement Hierarchy,” from the least- to most-enlightening ways to deal with differences of opinion. (Yes, I’m aware that other versions of this analysis have appeared elsewhere.)

At the top, as the most useful sort of disagreement, is Graham’s Level 6, “Refuting the Central Point.” You take on your opponent’s argument in its strongest and most accurate form, and you explain why it’s wrong. At the bottom, on Level 0, is the most destructive and divisive form of disagreement, simple “Name-calling.” Graham explains thus:

This is the lowest form of disagreement, and probably also the most common. We've all seen comments like this:
          u r a fag!!!!!!!!!!
But it's important to realize that more articulate name-calling has just as little weight. A comment like
        The author is a self-important dilettante.
is really nothing more than a pretentious version of "u r a fag."

The civics-related point: think how much of this cycle’s discussion has taken place on Level 0.

***

The second is something published almost 230 years ago. This is Federalist #10, from the Federalist Papers by Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, and John Jay, laying out the logic of the new Constitution. #10 is by Madison.

At some point in schooling most people have had some exposure to the Federalist Papers. This one, about the risks of “faction,” deserves notice because of the new oomph it has in campaign year 2016. Specifically, it is important for showing the long-standing concern about the fragility of the system the Federalists were designing, and the need for conscious attention to its underpinnings. Eg:

The latent causes of faction are thus sown in the nature of man; and we see them everywhere brought into different degrees of activity, according to the different circumstances of civil society.

A zeal for different opinions concerning religion, concerning government, and many other points, as well of speculation as of practice; an attachment to different leaders ambitiously contending for pre-eminence and power; or to persons of other descriptions whose fortunes have been interesting to the human passions, have, in turn, divided mankind into parties, inflamed them with mutual animosity, and rendered them much more disposed to vex and oppress each other than to co-operate for their common good.

So strong is this propensity of mankind to fall into mutual animosities, that where no substantial occasion presents itself, the most frivolous and fanciful distinctions have been sufficient to kindle their unfriendly passions and excite their most violent conflicts….

It is in vain to say that enlightened statesmen will be able to adjust these clashing interests, and render them all subservient to the public good. Enlightened statesmen will not always be at the helm.

Nor, in many cases, can such an adjustment be made at all without taking into view indirect and remote considerations, which will rarely prevail over the immediate interest which one party may find in disregarding the rights of another or the good of the whole.

The inference to which we are brought is, that the causes of faction cannot be removed, and that relief is only to be sought in the means of controlling its effects.

And on through a famous analysis “the means of controlling the effects” of faction. Why do I mention this? Because our politics of the moment proceeds as if there is no difference among the different levels of argument, and our governance is proceeding (or, not proceeding) as if the damage of faction can be waved away. A refusal even to consider nominees for the Supreme Court? It’s normalized as part of today’s partisan battle, rather than regarded as a specimen of the problem the Federalists hoped to avoid.

[Update because of a late night brain-freeze typo, I originally wrote that Federalist #10 was by Hamilton. Of course it’s by Madison, and is one of the most famous and carefully studied of his essays.]

***

Third is an item posted not eight years ago nor 230 but rather this weekend. It’s by Gary Hart — former Senator, former leading presidential candidate, ongoing defense expert and blogger. He writes about what the fraying of civility has meant, in practical terms, to today’s operational politics. A sample:

Civility is the name we give to mutual respect, decency, and honor among men and women.  Like civilization itself, civility evolves over time.  It is utilitarian in that societies function best when civility is the norm.  But its deeper meaning has to do with the nature of humanity.  When civility breaks down, societies fall apart. ...

Political civility began to crack two or three decades ago.  Coded language was used to give resentment a voice…

The new media, first non-stop partisan cable, then the startling rise of an array of social media, caused traditional media outlets, print and electronic, to abandon professional standards and join the mad hunt for “the story” at the cost of the privacy of public servants and eventually the very caliber of those willing to seek office….

This perfect storm inevitably brought wide-spread resentment, political candidates proudly proclaiming their ignorance, and desperately voracious media outlets together in 2016.  

Donald Trump didn’t invent all of this.  He was simply clever enough to stand outside, watch the storm gathering, and then give it voice.

***

To sum it up: the United States has withstood a lot, and will probably withstand what it is going through now. But its resilience is not automatic, and should not be taken for granted. The fundamentals of its civic structure deserve as much attention as the latest campaign-trail insult.

My sister isn’t ignorant. She simply doesn’t follow politics religiously, hates the dysfunction of Washington, and isn’t a fan of the drama that inevitably follows the Clintons. Because it’s only May and she doesn’t follow the nomination process like a fiend, most of the controversies swirling around Trump are a sort of white noise to her.

And yet, I feel myself sympathetic to reader John; supporting Trump is stupid. Does it make me “smug” to say that, in relation to political support for a xenophobic, misogynist demagogue? I’d like to think not, since America’s political environment isn’t a vacuum for the left; when half the country considers itself “real America” compared to coastal liberals, you tell me who is the smug one.

Which simply leaves us all talking past each other. But we on the left and center do this at our own risk. We have to understand where Trump’s appeal comes from, and doing so means accepting that it isn’t all coming from KKK members. My guess? It’s coming from voters who don’t dream of riches, but of being part of the traditionally secure middle class, and who are hearing different voices (Bernie Sanders being the other one) promising that it can come back.

It won’t, of course. But the desire for it to be made so is real. And apparently people are willing to overlook a lot of ignorance and bluster for that type of message, because the alternative? Another Clinton. More politics as usual, by virtue of the name.

Joseph is on the same page when it comes to the dynastic, establishment tendencies of U.S. politics:

Your reader, John, says about the working-class Trump supporter in Kentucky, Don: “And he’s hurting. But he is clueless as to why. Now he’s voting for a buffoon, because?”

He’s voting for a buffoon because neither political party has been able to give him a compelling vision for how things are going to get better in that part of the country. Trump’s whole pitch is based on the idea that he cares about people like this guy. Even if the promises Trump makes are ludicrous, there is a neglected constituency that is desperate to be paid attention to at all. If you want to convince people like this guy to not vote for Trump, you can’t accuse them of being racist, etc. You have to give them something they can say “yes” to.

If you think you’ve been failed by both parties, why not go vote for someone to shake up the system?

That question is addressed in our growing reader debate on third party candidates in this presidential cycle, and we’ll be airing more of your emails on that thread very soon. This final reader, Kathy, doesn’t want let Don and other Trump supporters off the hook:

Don sounded just like my aggrieved parents and sisters, and they are doing just fine. Other than Don being factually incorrect about the source of many of his problems, the thing we need to think about is how we encourage the Dons of the future to prepare themselves for the next jobs. I have worked next to people who bragged about not reading books, or the newspaper past the sports page.

I don’t think Don deserves his fate, but he bears some responsibility for how his life has played out.

Has he done anything on his own to improve his skills? Has he voted for visionary leaders, who might want to raise taxes to build better roads and schools, or who will bring new technologies and industries to his community, or has he voted for tax cuts? He’s stuck doing two jobs, but what is he teaching his kids—to hate Obama because the U.S. doesn’t use as much coal because other power sources are cheaper and cleaner (and does Don want to pay more to heat his house, just to heat it with coal?), or is he teaching his kids that they better learn all they can in school, and keep learning after they graduate?

Kathy’s sentiments are similar to Kevin Williamson’s in his controversial National Review piece, “The Father-Führer”—which is only available to subscribers, but Williamson’s colleague David French lays out the basics in his post “Working-Class Whites Have Moral Responsibilities—In Defense of Kevin Williamson.”