“This is all to say that popular discussions of the pathologies of “Trump supporters” have become trite and boring. “Those people” are always depicted through the same phony anthropological prism, as if pundits are examining some inexplicable phenomenon that just suddenly became evident in the material universe. Trump supporters exist in all walks of life and in every region of the country, but they’ve somehow become these exotic creatures to be analyzed in a pseudo-journalistic lab. On the other hand, supporting Hillary is seen as the height of normalcy, requiring no further interrogation.
It would be equally possible to scrutinize the prototypical Hillary voter as some kind of baffling curiosity—plenty of loopy people support her for a variety of weird and off-putting reasons. I recall attending a Hillary rally during the Democratic primaries several months back where a number of her fans were propagating preposterous conspiracy theories about Bernie Sanders, on topics ranging from his alleged ties to communist radicals to his “illegitimately” begotten son. I could have weaved these anecdotes into a larger narrative about how Hillary voters were motivated to back her out of “anger,” “resentment,” and “anxiety.” But I didn’t, because my sense of fairness militated against the impulse.”
How did I ever miss this article? All I know is I have happily let go of “friends” who have tried to assert their own cleanliness over the alleged dirtiness of hundred of millions of hard working Americans they have never spoken to and whose lives they know nothing about.
It’s not about Trump. That’s the irony. We get so obsessed about the purity or lack there of of One Man, the so called charismatic leader cult phenomenon, that we lose all interest in the reality that is so grotesquely obscured by these puritanical lenses.
It’s a veiled version and manifestation of what all the screaming middle class college kids are calling “racism.”
Racism is really all forms of trying to ugly-ify and “other” groups of people who are forced to be a proxy for the abjected in ourselves.
This is detailed in “Life Unworthy of Life,” by Daniel Glass, the best book on the Holocaust I have ever read, brought to my attention by Charles Ortleb, whose name will return here soon.