There is very little left to learn about Donald Trump the man. So when I attended one of his town halls this autumn in Michigan, I was mostly curious about his supporters. What kind of people were they? What could I ask them to help me make sense of the whole thing – that a convicted felon accused of trying to subvert American democracy is on the verge of returning to the White House?
As I arrived outside the event in Warren, Michigan, a long line had already formed through the car park. These were not the sophisticated edgelords I have come to know from online discussions on social media. They were salt-of-the-earth types, most without a college education, brought together by a common sense of economic disadvantage.
After an hour waiting outside the sports centre where the town hall was taking place, and two more hours wandering around inside before Trump arrived, I had time for a dozen short conversations. They were mostly about how difficult life has become for people in Michigan. Factories keep closing or laying off workers, and inflation has wiped out a large chunk of their income and savings. Drugs and alcohol are everywhere.
This is an America with no visible signs of wealth. From downtown Detroit to Dearborn and Warren, and then the rural counties north of Flint, there is rampant poverty, dwindling opportunities and an ageing population. By next year, more than 40 per cent of Michigan counties will have more than a quarter of their population older than 65. Many attendees told me they were unemployed. All complained about grocery prices. They spoke with little ambition for their jobs, careers, and even for their children.
But why is Trump, a billionaire from New York and Florida, capturing their vote? One factor is that he speaks his mind, with few or no restrictions. Many of the exchanges I overheard were about some particularly brazen or unfiltered sentence their candidate had recently uttered. I left thinking that for people who would like to talk this freely, Trump is an exemplar. For people working in jobs with diminished social status, being able to call everyone you dislike an idiot, as Trump is fond of doing, must look like the highest form of freedom. The other factor is that he has been going through a bad patch: Trump has been hit with court cases, was convicted of falsifying business records, and almost got killed by a bullet. They see themselves in his struggles. A majority of his supporters in Warren wore shirts emblazoned with “I am with the felon”.
It may be difficult for Europeans to understand how dysfunctional much of America has become. Nothing works. Bathrooms in bus stations and fast-food joints have often been closed for months. Public facilities are invariably old. Streets are spectacularly dirty. Service workers may go on small, local strikes no one hears about. Supermarket shelves may be empty because of shoplifters. In Erie, Pennsylvania, two days before the Warren campaign event, I took a train in the middle of the night. Outside the station, the homeless begged to enter the waiting room, only to be denied by the station master, who promptly fell asleep on the floor. I was told that many people try to jump on moving freight trains as they have no money for tickets. Once the station master woke up from his drunken slumber, he told me a “bum” had been run over by a moving train while sleeping on the tracks just a few days before. Now he worries because no one is checking the tracks every night.
Of course, things still work very well in America if you have money, or if you have a lot of it. And no one with money would travel by train or make regular use of public bathrooms. But while the moneyed America lives in a separate world, even the destitute can vote in an election – and they may well decide the outcome of this one.
I did not meet many African Americans at the Warren town hall, but the young black men I talked to in the bars in downtown Detroit seemed to have some sympathy for Trump. I would not call it a political inclination by any means, but Trump the Celebrity is someone they can relate to. One young man was visibly distraught that he had missed the event the day before and wanted me to tell him all about it. I doubt he will vote Republican in November, but neither will he bother to vote for Kamala Harris, about whom he knew nothing. Reports suggest that young African American men might feel disinclined to vote for a woman. A week ago, Barack Obama went so far as to make an appeal to these young men to overcome their prejudices. “Part of it makes me think that you just aren’t feeling the idea of having a woman as president,” he said at a Harris campaign event in Pittsburgh recently, “and putting women down… is not acceptable.”
The crowd in the Warren campaign event was significant. It filled most of the sports centre and no one left before the end. The size of the crowd meant that many people were left without a direct view of the candidate when he finally took the stage. The politics of celebrity were evident throughout. Trump understands this better than anyone. As he entered, he stood for a few minutes motionless and silent, barely smiling, just an icon for smartphone photos, as the song “God Bless the USA” played. It was perhaps the strangest moment of the evening. American politicians often like to run to the microphone and shout a few clichéd sentences, almost worried they will be unable to get the crowd sufficiently excited. Trump does none of that, as if his presence is enough. He does this, I think, by eliminating any content or substance from his appearances. Yes, his speeches are superficial and rambling, but the point, perhaps, is not to distract you from his personality.
How can the election be about policy if no dialogue on policy is even possible? One older African American man at the town hall told me that he and his two grown sons have agreed they will never talk about politics. If they did, their relationship would not last. The same arrangement seems to me to operate across the nation. The two sides will not talk to each other. The election is a combat between two auras and each side must try to inflict as much damage as possible on the opposing aura, so that it shines less brightly.
In this particular contest, Trump is doing well. I left Michigan convinced that he will win the state and likely the election as well. Michigan may prove decisive. Biden won here in 2020 but only by a narrow margin. Without it, Democrats have practically no path to victory.
The wars in the Middle East will be a significant factor in the election outcome. After the town hall, I went to dinner at a Lebanese restaurant in Dearborn, the hometown of Henry Ford, today a city with an Arab majority. I was told that Dearborn residents regularly attend funerals for loved ones or friends killed in the Middle East. I do not recommend asking them if they plan to vote for Harris. “No one I know is voting for her,” was the chilly response at an Yemeni coffee shop on Schaefer Road that evening.
A second factor is the fate of the car industry in Michigan, so critical to its economy and historical identity. Most of the questions in the town hall were about the deep sense of insecurity every automotive worker in the state feels, with the industry threatened by global competition and the energy transition. Trump promises to stand against these historical changes. His favourite car, after all, is a Cadillac, not a Tesla. “If it was good enough for my father it is good enough for me.” The crowd loved that answer.
At one point, he was asked by a young woman working at a Chrysler truck plant – a red Chrysler pick-up truck adorned the stage behind them – how he planned to keep industry jobs in the US. Trump gave an utterly bizarre answer centred on the fact that decades ago he was chosen as man of the year by a magazine in Michigan. The fake media tried to say the award never happened, but it did, Trump explained. There is even evidence, he added.
I was sitting just five metres behind the young woman and kept my eyes on her the whole time Trump was arguing his case, not about industry jobs but about his own media travails. She looked entirely happy with the answer. I thought that the reason might be that she felt Trump was replying to her. Was he replying to the question? Not one bit. Did it matter? Not really. He was talking to her, and he was sharing his problems, so it felt like a conversation. Trump is a lousy speaker, but he sure can talk.
[See also: Kamala Harris vs Fox News]
