No, this is not about Russia. It started out as a few further thoughts on Pres. Trump’s big speech and the reactions to it. But as I realized those reactions are mostly a function of popular narratives about Trump, it became more interesting to write about narratives — Trump’s narratives in this case.
If you’re reading a political blog, I probably don’t have to tell you what a narrative is. But if you’re young enough, you may not know the “narrative” is a concept imported from lit crit in the early oughts by some of the old school blogosphere to describe the overall framing political actors (including the media) build around the events of our times, generally to influence our perception of these events.
You are also aware that Trump’s opponents and harshest critics already have a narrative about his ascension and presidency that serves for the baseline of their continued opposition and criticism. Conversely, Trump’s supporters — and some of the anti-anti-Trump right — have a counter-narrative that serves as their baseline.
Those trying to judge Trump’s rise and his governance on an issue-by-issue basis will receive static from both factions. That static often plays out in a popular genre of sub-narrative titled “This is How You Got Trump.”
These narratives — including “This is How You Got Trump” — leave out a lot of fairly recent history.
We have quickly forgotten that 2016 involved the Democrats trying to retain control of the presidency for a “third term,” a feat accomplished precisely once (in 1988) since the enactment of the 22nd Amendment.
We tend to gloss over the fact that real GDP increased 1.6 percent in 2016, far below growth in 1988 and below what will generally keep a party in control of the White House. We might note in passing our foreign policy woes, but forget they’re much worse than they were in 1988, when the Reagan administration had put into place the polices that would win the Cold War.
In short, the fundamentals pointed to a classic “change” election. Even the New York Times figured this out before the election. And we may remember it from time to time, but it’s not part of either of the clashing Trump narratives.
We were surprised by Trump’s strength in the Rust Belt and upper Midwest; we thought much less about Ohio, Michigan and Wisconsin having unified GOP governments headed into the election. Hillary Clinton also missed that memo, despite the fact that the Democratic Party has been conceding working-class white voters since her husband first won the presidency.
Hillary decided to run as the candidate of the Obama coalition, but she was not the nation’s first black President, and not nearly as natural a campaigner. She should have considered she might perform more like John F. Kerry in key Midwestern battlegrounds and campaigned accordingly.
Hillary’s incompetence on that point was merely the sprinkles — albeit necessary sprinkles — on her cupcake of failure. She carried more negative baggage than any other major-party candidate in modern history, excepting Trump on some items. But Trump, even with his myriad flaws, wasn’t under FBI investigation.
All of this was much-discussed in the immediate aftermath of 2016’s surprise outcome. And none of it is to discount Trump’s accomplishments, his appeal to the white working class, his dogged campaigning in key states down the stretch when even his campaign doubted his chances, and so on.
But most of it does not find its way into the competing narratives about Trump, which now imagine him to be either Gozer the Destructor who will lay waste to the countryside or the Populist Colossus remaking the GOP and forever altering the trajectory of American politics. Either one of those scenarios could come to pass, but he’s also the guy who was outpolled by most conventional GOP Senate candidates and the average GOP House candidate.
Of course, Trump does wield a great deal of power and influence as President, so the reactions are not irrational. But even a Pres. Trump is unlikely to prove to be the Destructor or the Colossus. Our reactions are exaggerated and distorted by our tendency to build narratives.
People subscribing to one narrative or the other would do well to acknowledge there are some elements of truth in both, and that there is much excluded from both.
I would urge people to abandon their reliance on narratives, but this would be as silly as people urging the abandonment of religion, or nationalism, or any number of things that are part of the human experience. It would be profoundly unconservative to ignore human nature in that way.
People love telling and hearing stories. We love it in politics as an agent of influence. We love it in media because we understand our attraction to drama. We love it in life because stories help us understand and organize a complex and often chaotic world.
Indeed, the story of Trump disturbs people in no small part because it challenged or seemingly disproved the narratives that many relied upon to organize and explain their politics and their world. Conversely, those happiest with Trump’s victory are happy their narratives were confirmed, even if our complex and chaotic world might suggest those narratives are as fragile as those supposedly disproven.
There’s no chance people will abandon their love of narratives, particularly when confronted with the story of the reality TV star who becomes President. But we can strive to remember that even compelling narratives almost inherently leave out many messy complications in favor of confirming our priors.
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