Make the case
As the GOP convention begins, the president must convince voters he’ll help America heal.
Four years ago at a boisterous, chantfilled Republican National Convention, Donald Trump succeeded in portraying America as a grim, frightful place sowing death and destruction abroad while plagued by poverty, violence and chaos at home.
No small feat, given that the nation was in the midst of a record economic expansion and winding down in Iraq and Afghanistan.
We’re not sure how Trump’s rhetoric would go over this year now that the picture he painted four years ago actually bears some resemblance to reality.
Americans in 2020 have good reason to fear, whether for their children’s safety, for their loved ones’ lives or for their own livelihoods as they struggle to hold tight to precarious employment, keep the lights on and pay the mortgage.
No one could have predicted the deadly novel coronavirus pandemic, and Trump certainly didn’t start it. The murderous blame for its initial spread lies squarely on China and its deceitful coverup. But the president’s nonchalance, seasonal flu comparisons, misleading messaging and general logistical incompetence have left us in economic crisis.
More than 5.6 million people in the United States have been infected and more than 176,000 have died. Despite hints of rebound, the unemployment rate hovers around 10 percent.
Going into the Republican National Convention this week, Trump will have to do the opposite of 2016: give Republicans, and any uncommitted American voter who may be watching, a little hope.
Not the “hope and light and love” Joe Biden promised at the Democratic National Convention. People don’t turn to Trump for that.
In the Before Times, circa February, concerns of many Trump-supporting Republicans included building the wall, lowering taxes, protecting gun rights, appointing conservative judges, limiting abortion access and standing up to China.
Republican priorities have grown more pragmatic still: They want to live. They want to work. They want to know their president will do a better job of protecting the nation if he is given four more years.
And yes, they want to know that rioting in the streets of some cities following the death of George Floyd while in police custody will cease. Of course, such fires are more easily calmed by leaders who don’t fan the flames.
While the grand convention spectacles of America’s major political parties, even in virtual formats, are welcome distractions from our mundane realities while stuck at home, many Americans want more than a big bash.
The glitz, the flowing wardrobe of
American flags and the “Apprentice” inspired high drama might not be enough for a Republican voter feeding his kids out of a food pantry for the first time.
Nor is such a voter likely to care much about a dark cloud of bad news hanging over Trump’s head from last week, including his former chief strategist Steve Bannon’s arrest on fraud charges, another court ruling rejecting the president’s bid to shield his federal tax returns and his own sister, Maryanne Trump Barry, saying in secretly recorded audio that the president couldn’t be trusted.
Trump will need to persuade voters he has a clear vision for how to steer America out of this pandemic mess, something Democrats struggled to do as well. And Trump will have to do it without the roar of crowds that usually feed him.
He’ll get several shots, though, with this apparent plan to speak not once but every night.
Kellyanne Conway, Trump’s counselor who is also scheduled to speak, told reporters that “we definitely want to improve on the dour and sour mood of the DNC.” One might assume that also means avoiding the president’s own dour tone in his “American Carnage” inaugural address, one of the darkest ever delivered.
Republicans’ other deviation from Democrats — and from history? Ditch the former presidents.
Democrats, in their bid for one big, happy family, gave prime-time speaking slots to a slew of former Democratic presidents, first ladies and unsuccessful presidential nominees — an approach Conway criticized as “old guard-laden.”
Trump won’t have that problem since the Republican old guard seems content to stay away. That includes his only living Republican predecessor, George W. Bush; Mitt Romney, the party’s 2012 presidential nominee; and Romney’s running mate, former House Speaker Paul Ryan.
It’s a stark a reminder of how far the GOP has drifted. So is the list of speakers who did make the cut, including the McCloskeys, the St. Louis couple who stood outside their home and pointed guns at passing protesters they claimed to fear, and Nick Sandmann, the former MAGA hat-wearing Covington Catholic student whose exchange with a Native American elder went viral.
The schedule also includes a few of the party’s brighter lights: former U.N. Ambassador Nikki Haley, along with South Carolina Sen. Tim Scott.
This year’s GOP convention must have higher ambitions than paying homage to Trump. He’s no longer just a candidate. He’s the incumbent making the case for four more years amid a monumental crisis.
By the looks of Trump’s sagging poll numbers, he’s got some explaining to do.