A lot of people have invested a lot of time trying to explain how Donald Trump, a man who has fomented an insurrection, been impeached twice, been convicted of and bragged about sexual assault and faces 91 felony charges, can be the frontrunner in the race for the presidency.
His appeal is best explained by recognition of the main narratives he offers to the American people.
Robert Reich has summarized four “essential American stories.” Two feature the value of hope; two appeal to fear. Trump and many who support him tell various versions of the two stories that appeal to fear.
The first of these stories is called “Rot at the Top.” Its plot is that those in charge of the institution in question — in this case, the government — are corrupt and seek to serve their own interests at the expense of those over whom they have power.
This is one of the earliest American stories. It has shaped our interpretations of historical events (most of the Declaration of Independence lists the evils of King George III, for example, and the McCarthyism of the 1950s was premised on the myth that communists had infiltrated the highest levels of government) and provided the framework for popular works of fiction (Mr. Potter in “It’s a Wonderful Life” epitomizes the corrupt corporate leader, and John Dutton in “Yellowstone” is the criminal patriarch of a powerful, domineering family). Ronald Reagan rejuvenated the “rot at the top” narrative when he pronounced that “government is not the solution to our problem, government is the problem,” and it continues to motivate conservative and liberal populist programs.
Trump’s version of this story is that our main enemies are domestic and that we must “root out the Communists, Marxists, fascists, and the radical left thugs that live like vermin within the confines of our country.” To make clear that Biden is the rot at the top of this infestation, Trump pronounces that he is “the most corrupt president in the history of our country,” that he leads a “band of … thugs, misfits and Marxists,” and that he is engaged in an effort “to destroy American democracy.” Biden has, says Trump, “weaponized law enforcement to interfere in our elections.” And he is “incompetent” and “cognitively impaired.”
The second story Trump and his supporters emphasize is “Mob at the Gates.” It features the United States as the place of industry and opportunity, a virtuous land blessed by God, but also, because of those characteristics, besieged by forces that envy it or want to conquer it. Its citizens, consequently, must be vigilant against those who want to enter their land and destroy the values and institutions that make it great.
As with the first story, “Mob at the Gates” recurs throughout our history, kept alive by its ability to justify political policies and to animate fictitious tales. We have thus endured various “red scares” and “domino theories,” each of them premised on the belief that if we do not stop the mob now, they will soon assault our borders. The popularity of zombie films and television series like “The Walking Dead” is significant because they reproduce this story’s plot and prepare us to see it in current events.
Almost any anti-immigration rhetoric relies on the mob at the gates theme, and that is evident in current far-right discourse. The degree to which the situation at our southern border constitutes a problem, not to mention a crisis, depends on the story we tell about it. We could frame this as a story about dispossessed people seeking a better life for their families. We could frame it as asylum-seekers in flight from warlords who might torture or kill them. We could frame it as an administrative problem marked by too few border agents and an underfunded asylum system. Or we could say, as many do, that it is an invasion.
To invoke this meaning Trump has invented a new category of crime, which he labels “migrant crime.” Despite the fact that immigrants, whether documented or undocumented, commit fewer crimes on average than people born in the United States (and it’s not close: immigrants are 60% less likely than non-immigrants to be imprisoned), Trump has claimed that “there’s crime, there’s violent crime, there’s migrant crime … And it’s going to be worse than any other form of crime.” Immigrants are, he states, “poisoning the blood of our country.” And he declares explicitly that this is an invasion: “I will stop the killing, I will stop the bloodshed, I will end the agony of our people, the plunder of our cities, the sacking of our towns, the violation of our citizens and the conquest of our country. They’re conquering our country.”
Humans see themselves primarily as rational beings. We view the world as a set of problems we must confront, and we presume that if we apply reason and logic to those problems, we will be able to make the best decisions about how to solve them.
But when we think of ourselves this way, we downplay an important characteristic: we are storytellers, and we often do not follow the rules of deduction to determine what choices we should make. We rely instead on narratives that teach particular morals and encourage us to act in particular ways.
Trump has linked two essential American stories in a way that his followers find comfortable and familiar. They identify with the stories because they explain their sense of frustration, alienation and hopelessness, and because they offer a simple solution: support Trump because he will fix the rot at the top and stop the mob at the gates.
The stories are myths. They are simplifications of complex problems. They direct attention away from systemic injustices and moneyed interests, and toward the least powerful among us. They often do not fit the facts (the plunder of our cities? the sacking of our towns?), but they work to keep Trump popular. We should be wary of the stories he tells. Because while these popular narratives are powerful tools of persuasion, they are based in suspicion, fear and paranoia, and they entice us to see the worst in others.
Jeffery L. Bineham is an emeritus professor in the Judy C. Pearson Department of Communication Studies at St. Cloud State University.
