David Brooks’ recent Somewheres/Anywheres apologia for Trump voters, singles out a Politico article by Michael Kruse as a snapshot of people who like to identify with a particular place – the Somewheres: AKA the good, working class people “abandoned” by the political class who went all in for Trump[1].
To satiate my ongoing desire to understand this new species, Homo Trumpus, I read Kruse’s survey of Johnstown PA Trump supporters, feeling the usual mix of sympathy and fury for my tribe (most of my relatives voted Trump). I was struck by the emptiness of their lives and their longing for a mythic past when coal mining jobs didn’t lead to Black Lung disease, kindly corporate heads treated their workers as members of an extended family, and evenings left them basking in the cathode glow of a mainstream media which confirmed their prejudices.
Though I expected – and found – the usual “I-don’t-care-what-you-say-I’m-sticking-to-my-guns” pap from his supporters, there was still room left for surprise in a decidedly religious vein: specifically, the Book of Revelations.
Del Signore, a retired caterer, shared the latest gossip going around his wife’s Catholic church: Obama is the Antichrist. In response to a “this makes Trump. . .” question, Del replied “the Savior?” I guess we should be thankful for the question mark.
But it doesn’t really matter, because he’s got it all sussed out:
Just looking around, and putting two and two together, a little bit of business savvy, a little bit of street savvy, a little common sense, a little bit of education, you kind of deduct different things . . . . I think we’re going to see the end of the world in our generation.
After that cheery bit of wisdom from the book of Del, I didn’t think it could get worst.
It did.
The last paragraph was the most insightful part of the essay, but strangely absent from Brooks’ lament on the noble American working class. Apparently, what most animates Trumpian Somewheres isn’t unrestrained global capitalism or the automation of jobs or yawning income inequality.
It’s football and protests.
As Pam Schilling (who recently had to bury her son after a heroin overdose) noted, the players ought to be thankful for a job instead of taking a knee. The real problem? According to Schilling and her friends, it’s that the NFL now stands for “Niggers For Life.”
Scapegoats.
Easy answers.
Hucksters.
These, apparently, are what the working class looks for to salve its wounds.
And along came Trump.
[1] As a side note, with Douthat and Stephens I see the formation of an opinion sub-genre: New York Times conservative columnists smart enough to realize that the current manifestation of their beloved ideology is bankrupt, but cannot admit it’s been bankrupt all along.
Make America Think Again 