PHILIP MARTIN: Explaining the campaign

My mother doesn't like Donald Trump.

"He's loud and vulgar," says the little lady sometimes given to wearing gold tennis shoes. "And he puts his name all over everything. He acts like a bully."

That's kind of his brand, I tell her. Some people don't think he's really running for president because he wants to be president--that he's running for president because he wants to become even more famous than he is now, because in our society you can leverage celebrity, use it to generate money and power.

"But does he really need more money and power?" Mom asks.

Everyone could use more money and power, I say. But I think he's playing for the love of the game. He's good at drawing attention to himself, and he likes being talked and written about. He likes being on TV. He likes doing things like hosting Saturday Night Live or playing a version of himself in a reality TV show. There's probably a part of him that wants to be regarded as a serious person, as someone who could fix a lot of our problems simply through the application of his tough love common sense. But mostly I think he's doing this because he enjoys it.

"So he's just entertaining himself?" she asks. "It's all an act?"

That's my take. But I don't have any special knowledge. I think Trump saw an opportunity to make some mischief when he saw the GOP field. I don't think he has any particular affinity for the party, its tradition or ideals. I just think he saw it as a soft target.

And Trump has been playing a caricature of himself for so long--at least since the '80s--it's probably difficult even for him to tell where the act ends and his authentic self begins. It's an act, but he's a method actor, living the role.

"So we really shouldn't be paying that much attention to him?" she asks.

Not if you don't want to. No one should make you feel bad about not watching the debates or listening to the Sunday morning TV shows. At this point, ignoring this circus doesn't make you a bad citizen.

Maybe you could just start paying attention closer to the election. Things are likely to be much different in a year. Right now, it's really just a form of entertainment.

"But one of these people is probably going to be the next president."

True enough, someone will be elected. But who that is probably matters a lot less than most of us pretend. There's only so much a president can do. And the day-to-day effect on how we live our lives is likely to be quite small--people who don't pay attention to politics probably didn't notice a big change when George W. Bush succeeded Bill Clinton or when Obama succeeded Bush.

That doesn't mean these elections aren't important. But the U.S. is a big country full of lots of different sorts of people, all of whom have a stake in where we're headed. Every president is subject to being frustrated by the Congress and the Court. Any change is likely to be slow and incremental, the result of compromise and brokerage. No one ever gets everything they want, no one ever gets completely stiffed. The most important reason to prefer one presidential candidate over another is still who they seem likely to appoint to the Supreme Court.

"So why have you written so much about the campaign?"

Good question. Mostly because I'm simply following the conventions of my business. Newspapers and other newsgathering organizations devote more coverage to campaign politics than the subject may be due because it's easy--it's an ongoing spectacle, with "news" of a sort being made every day.

There's also demand for it. People follow politics same as they follow sports or TV series. I'm fascinated by the weirdness of the pageant: It's goofy to hear so many people who are nominally applying for what may be the most important job in the world say things I don't believe they believe.

More than that, I think it tells us something about where we are as a culture. The Republican Party is, to some degree, paying a price for pandering to the most extreme and embittered voters in the country, people who believe they're being perpetually victimized by their own government. Some of these people believe demonstrably false things, but it's become politically dangerous for any Republican to stand up to them. It might have gotten to the point where, in order to win the Republican nomination, a candidate might have to espouse ideas that just a few years ago would have been considered nutty.

"Like when Ben Carson says that Barack Obama is a 'psychopath' who may be guilty of treason?"

Exactly like that.

"Are you saying Dr. Carson doesn't believe what he says?"

I'm not saying that at all. I don't doubt his sincerity or his intelligence. But you can be a smart person and believe whacked-out things. In some ways brilliant people are more susceptible to believing nonsense, if that nonsense is something they want to believe. We're all good at deluding ourselves; sometimes the smarter we are, the more faith we place in our own instincts.

"You mean it's hard to be humble . . . ." Mom says.

Exactly. No one runs for president without possessing a great honking ego. Most sane people would weigh the costs and benefits of the job and run screaming. You have to think pretty highly of yourself to sign up to run for any public office, much less a national campaign. Personally, I think anyone who even wants to be president is suspect.

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Philip Martin is a columnist and critic for the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. Email him at pmartin@arkansasonline.com and read his blog at blooddirtandangels.com.

Editorial on 11/24/2015

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