I am not a fan of cliches, and in this election year there is one I find particularly objectionable: “informed electorate.” What, in America at this juncture, could be more trite? Seldom in our history have so many Americans wallowed so willfully in blissful ignorance. And at their vanguard is Donald Trump, the object of their adulation.
I admit to a certain admiration for a man who can build a presidential campaign upon silence. Both reporters and ordinary citizens have plied Mr. Trump with questions — which he has systematically either evaded or refused to answer. Instead of pressing the man, the questioners simply move on, and more curiously, support for this candidate bubbles with even greater intensity.
Mr. Trump’s strategy of silence is a matter of record. When CNN asked what he would replace Obamacare with, he gushed, “Something terrific.” Regarding how he would fulfill his promise to round up 11 million undocumented immigrants: “We’re going to have plenty of time to talk about it.” As early as May of last year Mr. Trump said he had a “foolproof” plan to defeat the Islamic State. When asked for the details, he replied that he would not share them unless he were elected.
All of this begs the question: if Mr. Trump’s constituency comprises an “informed electorate,” what is it informed about? From where I sit, the only thing it is familiar with is Mr. Trump’s outsized personality. I have seen interviews with voters who unashamedly avow that they are not interested in the details of the candidate’s views, because they “like” him. Such an attitude renders traditional talk of “statesmanship” or “experience” or “thoughtfulness” in a presidential candidate quaint. Or moot. The country seems to have entered a brave new political world where the Republican Party, through careful cultivation and irrigation, has raised a bumper crop of happy clappers who are enamored of a candidate because he had a TV show, and perhaps because he reflects their own diffuse anger about … what? My impression is that Mr. Trump’s supporters are indeed angry, in a general, unfocused way, and they’d like to see somebody get hurt. (It doesn’t really matter who.) And Donald Trump seems to be the man for the job.
After long years of relegation to the back rows and fringe recesses of political hustings, we are seeing the rise to power of an American peasantry eager to hand the keys to the nuclear arsenal to someone whose most memorable line is “You’re fired.” We have developed the bad habit, over the years, of thinking too much of ourselves (see “American exceptionalism”), of believing that we are a sort of high-tech New Jerusalem, a powerhouse on every level — militarily, economically, culturally — and that we are an inquisitive people. This self-image proves that we have become adept at self-delusion, for how much do we dwell upon the facts that the U.S. has the highest incarceration rate in the world, 14 percent of our people live in poverty, the People’s Republic of China holds our mortgage, and when we wish to boost an American into space, we must ask Vladimir Putin for a lift.
Once again, the segment of the electorate that has hoisted Trump onto its shoulders is not interested — is incurious about — any of this. Mr. Trump has promised to “make America great again,” but his supporters haven’t asked what this means. No matter. It is pleasant poetry and calls to mind a country which they believe has been smacked around for far too long (but by whom?) and ain’t gonna take it anymore.
Not long ago I watched Mr. Trump on the evening news. He was speaking at a rally. The topic: terrorism. His supporters asked what he intended to do about ISIS. Mr. Trump’s immediate reply: “Oh, you don’t want to know what I’d do to ISIS.”
And he’s right. They don’t.
And that, in a nutshell, is the problem.
Robert Klose teaches at the University of Maine at Augusta’s Bangor campus and is a four-time winner of the Maine Press Association award for opinion writing. His recent novel, “Long Live Grover Cleveland,” won a USA Book News award.