I recently asked a good friend where her boss stood on Donald Trump.
This wasn’t an idle question. Her boss gives big money to Republican candidates. He’s both power broker and weather vane. And she talks politics with him all the time.
But she has no idea about him and Trump. She hasn’t inquired, because she doesn’t want to know. She’s fond of her boss. She respects him. But what if he’s made peace with a candidate who called for a ban on all Muslims entering the United States, mocked at a disabled journalist, belittled John McCain’s experience as a prisoner of war, praised Russian President Vladimir Putin’s leadership style, complimented the Chinese government on its brutal handling of the uprising in Tiananmen Square and made misogynistic remarks galore?
She can’t go there.
I understand.
I have many relatives who loyally vote Republican, regardless of their excitement about the particular nominee. There’s a definite chance that some of them back Trump. So I steer clear of talk about this election, though we’ve spoken plenty — and placidly — about every other election.
One of these relatives routinely pushes back at any Trump-negative columns I write, and I’ve convinced myself that he’s just baiting me and playing devil’s advocate. I’ve never said to him, point blank, “Are you actually voting for Trump?” And I won’t. It’s my goal to get to and through Election Day without learning the truth.
There are various measures of the chilling singularity of Trump’s candidacy, including the last two Republican presidents’ announcement that they won’t be attending their party’s convention, all the prominent GOP donors who have publicly rejected Trump and the stubborn drumbeat among some Republicans for a third-party challenger, if only as a means to assure Hillary Clinton’s victory. These are extraordinary developments. We mustn’t forget that.
But another gauge of this freaky interlude is the number of us who are steadfastly avoiding conversations we’d normally have. We pride ourselves on not letting political arguments disrupt personal relationships. We have friends across the ideological spectrum. We esteem leaders from both parties. We value a healthy give-and-take.
But we can’t fit Trump into that. He’s a disagreement too far, an enthusiasm too bizarre. So we’re treading lightly and manoeuvring around him. We’re Trumping on eggshells.
That’s not the same as burying our heads in the sand, and it’s not a squandered opportunity to dissuade someone from Trump. Most Trump supporters aren’t ignorant of the litany I presented above. They’ve decided not to be bothered by it. They’ve crafted a counter-argument. I’ve heard it.
At least he’s not Hillary, they say. True. Neither is Kim Kardashian. Should America elect her? Her husband, Kanye West, has said that he may run in 2020. Let’s accelerate the timetable and speed the couple to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.
Trump has a furtive decency and unsung sensitive side, or so his boosters claim. They cite his relationship with his grown children. You know who else is an obviously loving and beloved parent? Hillary. You know who had a strained relationship with his children? Ronald Reagan. If that wasn’t a mark against him, why is the opposite a gold star for Trump?
But Trump will be a competent executive! Let’s assume that’s so. Will he be executing a Muslim ban? In that case, wouldn’t incompetence be preferable?
Enough about the Muslim ban, his accommodators respond: He doesn’t believe in three-quarters of what he puts out there. It’s all theatre.
Great! So what does he believe in? Are Americans supposed to guess and hope for the best? And will his theatrical impulse dissipate when he takes the oath of office? Or will it flare now and again, sending markets into turmoil and ships into battle?
With Hillary, they say, we get the status quo. With Trump we get disruption.
Possibly. But disruption cuts many different ways. And Trump’s particular disruption can leave America in shreds.
To some Americans, Trump is a fundamentally unserious person, and thus a dangerous one. To others, he’s a vessel of grievance and protest, and that’s enough. The chasm between those viewpoints isn’t easily bridged. So let’s take detours around it. They’re as elaborate as cloverleafs.
Friends have asked me about the leanings of other friends, because they shudder to find out for themselves. Relatives have grilled me on other relatives. I’m acquainted with anti-Trump Republicans who have purged the billionaire from their discourse with Trump-acquiescent Republicans, simply so they can press on.
There will be epic ugliness in the foreground of this election, but pockets of silence in the background will be just as unsettling, because they’ll reflect a despair and bafflement beyond words.
— New York Times News Service
Frank Bruni is a writer and author of Born Round and Ambling into History.
