Categories for Feature

My latest in The Spec: Will voters forget Trump’s sins?

Two years ago, in a limitless and sunny August when a global pandemic seemed like an impossibility, my daughter and I knocked on doors for the Democrats in Portland, Maine.

We were using a list of registered Democrats living in a tidy West Portland neighbourhood. The houses weren’t terribly big, but nor were they terribly small. They were average. Middle America.

The people behind the mostly-unlocked doors were uniformly nice, and prototypically Democrat: single-Mom nurses, retired male government employees, nervous-looking new American citizens with pronounced accents and little kids swarming around their knees.

My daughter and I loped from door to door, a couple Canadian progressives intent on finding mid-term American progressives who detested Donald Trump, just as we did. What we encountered surprised us. Worried us, even.

We had thought it would be easy. Trump had been in the news two years ago, as he always is, threatening to take away American birthright citizenship. Or scheming to gut the Affordable Care Act. or shrugging off allegations of Russia-Trump electoral fraud, then still a live issue.

But the folks we met on the doorsteps didn’t want to talk about any of that. One elderly fellow, his grown daughter at his elbow, said he was a proud Democrat, “up and down the ticket,” as the Americans like to say.

“We’re Democrats. But don’t keep telling me what Trump has done wrong,” this man said, as his daughter nodded vigorously. “Forget it. Tell me what you’re going to do.”

“Forget it.” After a few such encounters, my daughter and I retreated to the sidewalk. She had the best assessment: “It’s not that they don’t dislike Trump,” she said. “It’s like they’ve just forgotten all the millions of bad things that he’s done.”

The Democratic thinker David Shenk had a name for this phenomenon: data smog. Every day, via the Internet, regular folks — like the ones found in that Portland, Maine neighbourhood — get bombarded by hundreds of thousands of words and images. It is overwhelming and relentless, and in the Trump era, it has gotten even worse.

So, Shenk postulates, people — voters, in our case — just tune it out. There’s too much information, too often. It’s data smog. So they turn it off.

And then they forget about it.

On a recent Sunday, the New York Times filled an entire 10-page section of their newspaper with a stirring editorial about Trump’s myriad crimes, political and legal. I scanned it. There were so many of them, I had forgotten about most. There are too many to list here, even partially.

The Times editorial board acknowledged this reality. “The enormity and variety of Mr. Trump’s misdeeds can feel overwhelming,“ they wrote. “Repetition has dulled the sense of outrage, and the accumulation of new outrages leaves little time to dwell on the particulars. This is the moment when Americans must recover that sense of outrage.“

When I ran winning war rooms for Jean Chrétien and Dalton McGuinty, I would always tell the youngsters who worked there the same thing, over and over: “We have a national memory of seven minutes,” I’d tell them. “The job of any good war room is to remind voters about the bad things the other side did. Because they forget.”

It’s not that voters are dumb. In my quarter-Century experience of running political campaigns, my conviction remains that voters are always smart and intuitive and aware. Always.

It’s just that they’re, well, busy: ferrying kids to hockey games and ballet practice, trying to get across town to work or an appointment, catching up on sleep after worrying all day about mortgage or rent payments. They’re busy.

And in the midst of a brutal global pandemic, it’s gotten even worse.

So they don’t scrutinize political parties’ shiny multi-page election platforms. They don’t listen to speeches. They barely watch entire debates. And they forget things.

It’s normal, to forget. It’s human. It’s a survival mechanism.

In the Trump era, we forget things even more. The terrible things he has done, in particular.

Because there have been too, too many.

If Donald Trump somehow squeaks out another victory — thereby throwing America into further chaos and division, hastening it’s end, and further destabilizing a world in disarray — it will be mainly because of one insight about voters, about humans, that he knows better than anyone else alive: We forget.

Warren Kinsella is a Canadian journalist, political adviser and commentator


My latest: Donald Trump’s path to victory

Forget it.

Two years ago, in a limitless and sunny August when a global pandemic seemed like an impossibility, my daughter and I knocked on doors for the Democrats in Portland, Maine.

We were using a list of registered Democrats living in a tidy West Portland neighborhood. The houses weren’t terribly big, but nor were they terribly small. They were average. Middle America.

The people behind the mostly-unlocked doors were uniformly nice, and prototypically Democrat: single-Mom nurses, retired male government employees, nervous-looking new American citizens with pronounced accents and little kids swarming around their knees.

My daughter and I loped from door to door, a couple Canadian progressives intent on finding mid-term American progressives who detested Donald Trump, just as we did. What we encountered surprised us. Worried us, even.

We had thought it would be easy. Trump had been in the news two years ago, as he always is, threatening to take away American birthright citizenship. Or scheming to gut the Affordable Care Act. or shrugging off allegations of Russia-Trump electoral fraud, then still a live issue.

But the folks we met on the doorsteps didn’t want to talk about any of that. One elderly fellow, his grown daughter at his elbow, said he was a proud Democrat, “up and down the ticket,” as the Americans like to say.

“We’re Democrats. But don’t keep telling me what Trump has done wrong,” this man said, as his daughter nodded vigorously. “Forget it. Tell me what you’re going to do.”

“Forget it.” After a few such encounters, my daughter and I retreated to the sidewalk. She had the best assessment: “It’s not that they don’t dislike Trump,” she said. “It’s like they’ve just forgotten all the millions of bad things that he’s done.”

The Democratic thinker David Shenk had a name for this phenomenon: data smog. Every day, via the Internet, regular folks – like the ones found in that Portland, Maine neighborhood – get bombarded by hundreds of thousands of words and images.  It is overwhelming and relentless, and in the Trump era, it has gotten even worse.

So, Shenk postulates, people – voters, in our case – just tune it out. There’s too much information, too often. It’s data smog. So they turn it off.

And then they forget about it.

Last Sunday, the New York Times filled an entire ten-page section of their newspaper with a stirring editorial about Trump’s myriad crimes, political and legal. I scanned it. There were so many of them, I had forgotten about most. There are too many to list here, even partially.

The Times editorial board acknowledged this reality. “The enormity and variety of Mr. Trump’s misdeeds can feel overwhelming,“ they wrote. “Repetition has dulled the sense of outrage, and the accumulation of new outrages leaves little time to dwell on the particulars. This is the moment when Americans must recover that sense of outrage.“

When I ran winning war rooms for Jean Chrétien and Dalton McGuinty, I would always tell the youngsters who worked there the same thing, over and over: “We have a national memory of seven minutes,” I’d tell them. “The job of any good war room is to remind voters about the bad things the other side did. Because they forget.”

It’s not that voters are dumb. In my quarter-Century experience of running political campaigns, my conviction remains that voters are always smart and intuitive and aware. Always.

It’s just that they’re, well, busy: ferrying kids to hockey games and ballet practice, trying to get across town to work or an appointment, catching up on sleep after worrying all day about mortgage or rent payments. They’re busy.

And in the midst of a brutal global pandemic, it’s gotten even worse.

So they don’t scrutinize political parties’ shiny multi-page election platforms. They don’t listen to speeches. They barely watch entire debates. And they forget things.

It’s normal, to forget. It’s human. It’s a survival mechanism.

In the Trump era, we forget things even more. The terrible things he has done, in particular.

Because there have been too, too many.

If Donald Trump somehow squeaks out another victory – thereby throwing America into further chaos and division, hastening it’s end, and further destabilizing a world in disarray – it will be mainly because of one insight about voters, about humans, that he knows better than anyone else alive:

We forget.


The debate in tweets: Trump too late, Biden biding time


My latest: working for Joe Biden and the Dems

None of us.

There is a simple reason why no one really wants to say Donald Trump is going to lose in 2020.

Because no one really got it right in 2016.

This writer is one of the many who got it wrong. Never saw it coming. And I was close enough to the action to know better.

Full disclosure: I’ve helped out the Democrats for years, and I was again proudly working for Hillary Clinton in 2016.  As a foreign national, I couldn’t donate to her campaign, or get paid.  But I could volunteer for her, and I did – in Maine, in New Hampshire, and at her Brooklyn headquarters.

We had more money.  We had better people.  We had organization. We had ideas galore. We had experienced campaign managers.  And we had the best candidate, too: a former Secretary of State, a former Senator, a former First Lady and accomplished lawyer.  We had it all.

Our opponent was a joke. Donald Trump been caught on tape, proclaiming that he “grabbed [women] by the pussy.”  He refused to release his taxes – because, we suspected (correctly), he hadn’t paid his fair share.  He was an unapologetic racist, calling Mexicans drug dealers and rapists, and pledging to bar Muslims from entering the United States. 

And he had denigrated captured war heroes like John McCain – who was being tortured in Vietnam right around the time Trump was dodging the draft and chasing escorts around New York City.

We couldn’t lose – or so we thought.  For months, every national poll had shown us far ahead of Trump. The politics and the punditocracy, too: all were convinced we’d win.

We didn’t.  

Even though Hillary got three million more votes than Trump, the United States’ byzantine electoral college system produced a perverse, and shocking, result: the narrowest of victories for Donald Trump.  Because slightly more than 70,000 votes went the wrong way in Michigan, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin, Trump bested Clinton in the electoral college.

Could it happen again?

It could.  It might.  A characteristic of Trump’s core vote, those of us on Clinton’s team later learned, is that they are older and tend to hide from pollsters in the lead-up to voting day – and then they come out to vote, en masse.

Trump was assisted, too, by Bernie Sanders in 2016.  Sanders had repeatedly demonized Hillary as corrupt and a captive of Wall Street – thereby suppressing our youth vote.  The clueless, witless FBI director also helped to kill Hillary’s momentum when it hurt the most, with a bogus and needless probe of some emails.  And, finally, white suburban women – who we had thought would be repulsed by Trump – voted against their self-interest, and for a “man” who bragged about sexual assault.

Four years later, and with three weeks to go until voting day, none of that applies anymore.  For Donald Trump, the political landscape is radically different.

The coronavirus has sickened or killed Trump’s most loyal supporters – white retired seniors.  Poll after poll now show that older Americans have abandoned Trump because they have been appalled by his mismanagement of the pandemic, which has killed 215,000 Americans.  Seniors are now mostly lining up behind the Democrats’ Joe Biden.

Bernie Sanders, meanwhile, has a far better relationship with Biden than he did with Clinton.  As a result, Sanders has urged his youthful supporters to rally behind Biden – and they have.

This time around, there is no manufactured scandal swirling around the Democratic presidential nominee.  Trump tried to get one going in Ukraine against Biden and his son, of course.  But that only resulted in Trump’s impeachment – and Biden winning the Democratic nomination in a walk.

Finally, white suburban women long ago abandoned Trump, fed up with his sexism and misogyny and payoffs to porn stars.  Biden’s massive national polling lead has been fuelled, for the most part, by female voters.

But that’s the polls.  Is Joe Biden winning on the ground, where it counts? 

This time around, I am doing phone banking – calling up registered voters, to I.D. the vote, to get out the vote.  I’ve called hundreds of residents of New England states so far, asking how they’ve marked their absentee ballots. And this is how many have told me they’ve voted for Donald Trump:

None of them.

 


My latest in The Spec: Trump’s Covid could kill him – or save him

In another October, in another democratic contest, a man’s disability — a man’s health — almost changed everything.

In October 1995, Quebec was voting in a second referendum on independence. The federalist side had been winning — until Quebec’s separatist premier passed control of the campaign to the younger and more popular leader of the Bloc Québécois, Lucien Bouchard.

When that happened, the separatist option — the option that would see Quebec leave Canada — started to acquire momentum.

The arguments, pro and con, had all been heard before. Many of the key players in the “oui” or “non” fight were well known, too.

What was different, and what nearly broke up Canada, was Bouchard. The Bloc leader had lost a leg to a fast-moving and potentially deadly bacteria just months earlier. Many had thought he would die.

He didn’t. He came back from the dead and rewrote history.

Bouchard did that by embracing the illness that had almost killed him. At rally after rally that October, the lights were dimmed and a single light was directed at a podium.

The halls would grow silent. Leaning on a cane, Bouchard would move toward the podium, apparently in pain, with every eye watching him. He’d reach the podium, then hand the cane to an assistant, just beyond the rim of light. And then he would start — a fist clenched, his voice ranging from a shout to a whisper. He was extraordinary.

He would hold his audience spellbound, as he would plead for Quebecers to become, once and for all, masters in their own house. The atmosphere was electric, incredible, profound.

As one Jean Chretien-era cabinet member later said to me: “It was like he was Jesus Christ.” Bouchard embraced his burden and made himself a martyr for the separatist cause.

The federalist side started to lose. The separatist side started to win. On the night of the referendum, Canada avoided disaster by just 50,000 votes. The final vote was 50.58 per cent to 49.42 per cent. It was a shock to many that Canada had come that close to destruction.

All that saved Canada, many feel, was U.S. president Bill Clinton’s statement at the dedication of the new American embassy in Ottawa that same month. He called for “a strong and united Canada.” That turned the tide.

Many Octobers later, another U.S. president is (like Clinton) trying to find a way to avoid defeat. And (like Bouchard) he’s perhaps wondering whether a potentially fatal microbe could become his best political ally.

For Donald Trump, now in the grip of a virus that he once dismissed, it’s the ultimate paradox: the very thing that has destroyed America’s economy, and shredded his electoral prospects, may well be the thing that re-elects him.

Trump’s COVID-19 diagnosis doesn’t improve his chances simply because of sympathy. It improves his chances because the entire Democratic Party strategy — to make the election a referendum on Trump — now lays on the floor, discarded.

Attack ads, stopped. Tough speeches, rewritten. War rooms, told to stand down. Everything that Joe Biden and his party had planned to do — to go after Trump, relentlessly — they can’t now do.

Bouchard is unlikely to be known to Trump. But, as he reflects he might be well advised to consider the separatist leader’s strategy.

Picture Trump at a window, light streaming in, as he waves to the throngs on the street below. Picture him recording emotional fireside-style talks about the need to come together and support each other to defeat a common enemy.

Picture him, walking to a perfectly-lit podium — waving off help or a wheelchair — and giving the speech of his lifetime, one to call the nation together, one to rally the American people. And to defeat the virus, as he had.

COVID-19 could kill Donald Trump, it’s true.

But, this fateful October, it could also give him — and his campaign — renewed life.