THE AUDACITY OF HATE

THIS WEEK THE REPUBLICAN NATIONAL CONVENTION BECAME A CIRCUS OF FEAR AND LOATHING AS DONALD TRUMP BESTRODE THE STAGE AS THE PARTY’S NOMINEE FOR THE WHITE HOUSE. IT WAS A CHILLING, DARK, VISION OF THE WORLD THAT WAS PRESENTED. OUR US CORRESPONDENT ANDREW P

THE day before the Republican National Convention, Donald Trump’s campaign manager, Paul Manafort, was asked if he was worried about violent protests disrupting the event. “Frankly, that impact will probably help the campaign because it’s going to show a lawlessness and lack of respect for political discourse,” he replied.

By the end of four chaotic days, in which Trump and his surrogates were repeatedly called on to defend the indefensible, Manafort must have been praying for a busload of anarchists with Molotov cocktails to arrive, an overzealous police response caught on film, anything to distract from the fiasco unfolding in the convention hall.

There were two conventions in Cleveland this week. In and around the newly-renovated Public Square, the city hosted a supremely well-organised, peaceful event, in which opposing political viewpoints were expressed loudly but mostly without rancour. Inside the Quicken Loans Arena, Trump presided over an angry, confused pageant, full of fear and hatred, that laid bare the divisions in the Republican Party and exposed how unprepared he is to hold the office he seeks.

In his pitch to voters, Trump presents himself as an experienced chief executive, a deal-maker and problem-solver. The convention – marred by own goals, half-hearted cover-ups and fits of pique – damaged his brand. As basic mistake followed basic mistake, Republican operatives wondered whether a team of incompetents is steering the party towards a calamitous defeat up and down the ticket.

On the final night, Trump shared his terrifying vision of the United States of America: a country of declining ambitions and rising crime rates, threatened by terrorists and roaming gangs of immigrants. “The crime and violence that today afflicts our nation will soon come to an end. Beginning on January 20, 2017, safety will be restored,” he swore.

Ronald Reagan assured voters that it was Morning In America. Trump warned that as it’s dark outside, it would be wise to lock the door. He promised to halt immigration from nations “compromised by terrorism” – let’s say France and Belgium, although he never would – and to renegotiate the USA’s membership of Nato. Only by withdrawing from the world, he suggested, can America be great again. The themes of the convention were clear: fear, hate and isolationism of type not seen in America since before World War Two.

The last three Presidents of the United States, Barack Obama, George W Bush and Bill Clinton, all projected hope. In declining to make a positive affirmation of American exceptionalism, Trump committed himself to a narrow general election strategy that is dependent on shocking acts of violence, at home and abroad. Project Fear may turn out to be a shrewd bet, but in the short term, it drew comparisons with Mussolini.

David Duke, former Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan and the most famous white supremacist in the USA, raved that it was a great speech: “America First! Stop Wars! Defeat the Corrupt Elites! Protect our Borders! Fair Trade! Couldn’t have said it better!” Trump has explicitly encouraged violence at his rallies, and would surely have been buoyed by rioting in Cleveland. Many reporters brought gas masks, helmets and bullet-proof vests in the hope of witnessing pitched battles, but the violence never kicked off. The disagreements in the streets, though, never came close to the apocalyptic images on the teleprompter.

On Wednesday, Bikers For Trump marched into the square. “We heard there was going to be some flag burning here today, and that’s only going to happen if I’m lying dead beside it,” spokesman Chris Cox said. Although Ohio’s “open carry” law permits guns in public places, the only weapon he carried was a fire extinguisher. When a gaggle of protesters from the Revolutionary Communist Party showed up, the chief arsonist merely succeeded in setting fire to his shirt before being dragged away.

In making his case to lead a “law and order” administration, Trump relied heavily on the recent murders of police officers in Dallas and Baton Rouge. The response on the streets was a truce. Black Lives Matter’s Cleveland chapter steered clear of the convention. The city’s notoriously violent police force has been under federal supervision for the last two years, but this week at least, the officers on view, at least, were friendly and restrained, and received more words of support than heckles.

“The attacks on our police, and the terrorism in our cities, threaten our very way of life,” Trump claimed, citing a recent rise in homicides in urban areas and ignoring how much safer the country’s cities have become since Richard Nixon pioneered a presidential campaign based on similar scare tactics in 1968. Trump accused his opponent, Hillary Clinton, of proposing “mass amnesty, mass immigration, and mass lawless-