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Is Trump ‘Presidential?’ Is Anyone? Is Trump ‘Presidential’? Is Anyone?
(about 5 hours later)
Of the many words Donald Trump has uttered over the last nine months — all the insightful insults and blustery boasts, all the syntax-slaying murk that sometimes boomerangs back into sense and all the hateful hate that doesn’t — last month brought a new flash of negative élan. Trump was speaking at a rally in Harrisburg, Pa., when he took stock of his own demeanor as a candidate.Of the many words Donald Trump has uttered over the last nine months — all the insightful insults and blustery boasts, all the syntax-slaying murk that sometimes boomerangs back into sense and all the hateful hate that doesn’t — last month brought a new flash of negative élan. Trump was speaking at a rally in Harrisburg, Pa., when he took stock of his own demeanor as a candidate.
“Now, my wife is constantly saying, ‘Darling, be more presidential.’ I just don’t know that I want to do it quite yet,” he told a packed, ready-to-rock house. “At some point I’m going to be so presidential that you people will be so bored. And I’ll come back as a presidential person, and instead of 10,000 people, I’ll have about 150 people, and they’ll say, ‘But, boy, he really looks presidential!’ ”“Now, my wife is constantly saying, ‘Darling, be more presidential.’ I just don’t know that I want to do it quite yet,” he told a packed, ready-to-rock house. “At some point I’m going to be so presidential that you people will be so bored. And I’ll come back as a presidential person, and instead of 10,000 people, I’ll have about 150 people, and they’ll say, ‘But, boy, he really looks presidential!’ ”
When we’re thinking about voting for president, we’re also thinking about what’s “presidential.” I never know quite what that means, except that, like the sitcom-wife version of Melania Trump in her husband’s anecdote, I kind of do. It connotes carriage and posture and intelligence. It captures dignified comportment and a degree of knowledge. It’s the ability to depict leadership, from lecterns to tarmacs. It’s partly cosmetic — is this person tall, passably fit, loosely attractive, warm? — and almost entirely presentational. It’s the seriousness a candidate has to project in order to be taken seriously, only without seeming dour or battery-operated. “Presidential” used to be something to aspire to. All of that authority, know-how, gravitas, good posture and moral rectitude — it seemed so important, so adult, so American.When we’re thinking about voting for president, we’re also thinking about what’s “presidential.” I never know quite what that means, except that, like the sitcom-wife version of Melania Trump in her husband’s anecdote, I kind of do. It connotes carriage and posture and intelligence. It captures dignified comportment and a degree of knowledge. It’s the ability to depict leadership, from lecterns to tarmacs. It’s partly cosmetic — is this person tall, passably fit, loosely attractive, warm? — and almost entirely presentational. It’s the seriousness a candidate has to project in order to be taken seriously, only without seeming dour or battery-operated. “Presidential” used to be something to aspire to. All of that authority, know-how, gravitas, good posture and moral rectitude — it seemed so important, so adult, so American.
But Trump has tapped into something else about “presidential”: If it’s a performance, then it can be switched on and off as needed. You can trace this tactic as far back as, improbably, Franklin D. Roosevelt. In her book “Voting Deliberatively: F.D.R. and the 1936 Presidential Campaign,” Mary E. Stuckey writes that, during the summer months before the election: “F.D.R. concentrated on being presidential. So determinedly nonpolitical was he, in fact, that Roosevelt didn’t actually acknowledge he was running for re-election until late September.” But when he finally did campaign, Roosevelt “came out swinging” against his Republican opponents. In Stuckey’s rendering, “presidential” requires remaining above the fray that running for president invariably requires leaping into.But Trump has tapped into something else about “presidential”: If it’s a performance, then it can be switched on and off as needed. You can trace this tactic as far back as, improbably, Franklin D. Roosevelt. In her book “Voting Deliberatively: F.D.R. and the 1936 Presidential Campaign,” Mary E. Stuckey writes that, during the summer months before the election: “F.D.R. concentrated on being presidential. So determinedly nonpolitical was he, in fact, that Roosevelt didn’t actually acknowledge he was running for re-election until late September.” But when he finally did campaign, Roosevelt “came out swinging” against his Republican opponents. In Stuckey’s rendering, “presidential” requires remaining above the fray that running for president invariably requires leaping into.
Richard Nixon also understood the power of performance. Gil Troy, in his book “See How They Ran,” captures the sleight-of-hand that Nixon deployed to finally land the job in 1968. His famously moist televised debate performance in 1960 haunted him; so did his failure to seem as persuasively presidential — as good-looking, basically — as John F. Kennedy. Eight years later, Troy writes, things had changed: “Following his advisers and acting presidential, Nixon snatched the Republican nomination. His platitudes offered a soothing alternative to the mounting Vietnam protests. Richard Nixon, the man of a thousand resentments, the pit bull of American politics, would again pose as an apostle of unity and peace.”Richard Nixon also understood the power of performance. Gil Troy, in his book “See How They Ran,” captures the sleight-of-hand that Nixon deployed to finally land the job in 1968. His famously moist televised debate performance in 1960 haunted him; so did his failure to seem as persuasively presidential — as good-looking, basically — as John F. Kennedy. Eight years later, Troy writes, things had changed: “Following his advisers and acting presidential, Nixon snatched the Republican nomination. His platitudes offered a soothing alternative to the mounting Vietnam protests. Richard Nixon, the man of a thousand resentments, the pit bull of American politics, would again pose as an apostle of unity and peace.”
Two terms later, John Osborne, writing for The New Republic, noted that President Gerald Ford’s struggles during the 1976 Republican primaries had left his campaign with only one option. “His best hope of nomination and election lies in his being as presidential as possible,” Osborne wrote. In hindsight, it seems as if that hope had already been snatched away by Chevy Chase’s murderous impression of Ford as a buffoon on “Saturday Night Live.” His primary challenger — Ronald Reagan, the master of modern presidential performance — would never have gone out like that. He got out in front of caricaturists by mocking himself (and his opponents) while simultaneously understanding how to “star” in a televisual campaign and deftly time a one-liner during a debate.Two terms later, John Osborne, writing for The New Republic, noted that President Gerald Ford’s struggles during the 1976 Republican primaries had left his campaign with only one option. “His best hope of nomination and election lies in his being as presidential as possible,” Osborne wrote. In hindsight, it seems as if that hope had already been snatched away by Chevy Chase’s murderous impression of Ford as a buffoon on “Saturday Night Live.” His primary challenger — Ronald Reagan, the master of modern presidential performance — would never have gone out like that. He got out in front of caricaturists by mocking himself (and his opponents) while simultaneously understanding how to “star” in a televisual campaign and deftly time a one-liner during a debate.
By the late 20th century, “presidential” had become entirely bound up in technological savvy, and Reagan, as could be expected from a former president of the Screen Actors Guild, was an artist when it came to optics. Brian Balogh, a professor at the Miller Center of Public Affairs at the University of Virginia and co-host of the radio show “BackStory With the American History Guys,” told me that “Reagan’s stroke of genius was to continue running against the establishment while he was actually the president.” This was a man who, during his 1984 re-election bid, had Air Force One land just outside the Daytona International Speedway to attend the Fourth of July Firecracker 400. “A lot of people,” Balogh said, “would say that was unpresidential.” A decade later, the nation would be in the midst of an ongoing fit over all things “unpresidential,” thanks to Bill Clinton’s sax playing, his stated preference for briefs over boxers (on MTV!), his extramarital affair.By the late 20th century, “presidential” had become entirely bound up in technological savvy, and Reagan, as could be expected from a former president of the Screen Actors Guild, was an artist when it came to optics. Brian Balogh, a professor at the Miller Center of Public Affairs at the University of Virginia and co-host of the radio show “BackStory With the American History Guys,” told me that “Reagan’s stroke of genius was to continue running against the establishment while he was actually the president.” This was a man who, during his 1984 re-election bid, had Air Force One land just outside the Daytona International Speedway to attend the Fourth of July Firecracker 400. “A lot of people,” Balogh said, “would say that was unpresidential.” A decade later, the nation would be in the midst of an ongoing fit over all things “unpresidential,” thanks to Bill Clinton’s sax playing, his stated preference for briefs over boxers (on MTV!), his extramarital affair.
With Barack Obama, the question was “Can the country see a nonfictional black man as presidential?” For the most part, it could, and like other presidents before him, Obama managed to bend the concept to suit his persona. He never landed his plane outside Daytona, but he has publicly broken into songs like Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together” and communicated in hip-hop gestures, like the dropped mike and the brushing of dirt from the shoulder. He visited the Los Angeles garage where Marc Maron hosts his “WTF” podcast. He somehow balances the critique that he can be too grave and aloof with the fear that he might get too black.With Barack Obama, the question was “Can the country see a nonfictional black man as presidential?” For the most part, it could, and like other presidents before him, Obama managed to bend the concept to suit his persona. He never landed his plane outside Daytona, but he has publicly broken into songs like Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together” and communicated in hip-hop gestures, like the dropped mike and the brushing of dirt from the shoulder. He visited the Los Angeles garage where Marc Maron hosts his “WTF” podcast. He somehow balances the critique that he can be too grave and aloof with the fear that he might get too black.
Yet none of these detours from convention made him less presidential. They actually made sense. The Obama era is also our “Hamilton” moment, in which the state of being “presidential” can belong to whomever we say it does. He and the musical are both winking, seeing how much each of them can make the gravity of the office their own without eroding it.Yet none of these detours from convention made him less presidential. They actually made sense. The Obama era is also our “Hamilton” moment, in which the state of being “presidential” can belong to whomever we say it does. He and the musical are both winking, seeing how much each of them can make the gravity of the office their own without eroding it.
So Trump’s presidential on-off switch isn’t new. He’s just the first candidate to acknowledge the switch as a campaign strategy. He’s openly anti-presidential, and yet he has been shrewd enough to use “presidential” against his rivals. Look at poor John Kasich, who wanted to be the adult in the room of the Republican primaries. Trump turned the way Kasich ate a meal into standup comedy: “This guy takes a pancake, and he’s shoving it in his mouth,” Trump said at a stop in Pennsylvania. “It is disgusting. Do you want that for your president?” At another rally, he elaborated on the theme: “That’s not presidential, I can tell you.” He had trapped Kasich into a moment reminiscent of the 1988 campaign, when Michael Dukakis was photographed on a tank, wearing a very large helmet and a goofy grin. Trump managed something similar with Jeb Bush, originally the most conventionally presidential of the G.O.P. field: He picked up on how soporific Bush could seem and never stopped mocking his stamina. Trump has prioritized sound presentation over sound policy, as if he were watching the election on a muted TV at the gym.So Trump’s presidential on-off switch isn’t new. He’s just the first candidate to acknowledge the switch as a campaign strategy. He’s openly anti-presidential, and yet he has been shrewd enough to use “presidential” against his rivals. Look at poor John Kasich, who wanted to be the adult in the room of the Republican primaries. Trump turned the way Kasich ate a meal into standup comedy: “This guy takes a pancake, and he’s shoving it in his mouth,” Trump said at a stop in Pennsylvania. “It is disgusting. Do you want that for your president?” At another rally, he elaborated on the theme: “That’s not presidential, I can tell you.” He had trapped Kasich into a moment reminiscent of the 1988 campaign, when Michael Dukakis was photographed on a tank, wearing a very large helmet and a goofy grin. Trump managed something similar with Jeb Bush, originally the most conventionally presidential of the G.O.P. field: He picked up on how soporific Bush could seem and never stopped mocking his stamina. Trump has prioritized sound presentation over sound policy, as if he were watching the election on a muted TV at the gym.
Obama’s demeanor has always suggested that he believes in the office; Trump’s has always suggested that he doesn’t. If Trump is a student of history, he has surely surmised that “presidential” is a kind of fraud, one he can put to farcical ends on the campaign trail. In order to seem presidential, he’ll just have to pause being “demagogic,” “sexist,” “authoritarian,” “bigoted” and “nationalistic.”Obama’s demeanor has always suggested that he believes in the office; Trump’s has always suggested that he doesn’t. If Trump is a student of history, he has surely surmised that “presidential” is a kind of fraud, one he can put to farcical ends on the campaign trail. In order to seem presidential, he’ll just have to pause being “demagogic,” “sexist,” “authoritarian,” “bigoted” and “nationalistic.”
And once he officially gets the nomination, his final opponent will bring “presidential” to another crossroads. The national data set for the concept has been almost entirely male. But has any 2016 candidate checked off the “presidential” boxes more dutifully than Hillary Clinton? She embodies both the authority and the stodginess of the term. She’s serious, sturdy, studied and commanding. Unlike Trump, she has a track record of public service. She is also, arguably, the face of what a sham that gravitas can be; people simply don’t trust her.And once he officially gets the nomination, his final opponent will bring “presidential” to another crossroads. The national data set for the concept has been almost entirely male. But has any 2016 candidate checked off the “presidential” boxes more dutifully than Hillary Clinton? She embodies both the authority and the stodginess of the term. She’s serious, sturdy, studied and commanding. Unlike Trump, she has a track record of public service. She is also, arguably, the face of what a sham that gravitas can be; people simply don’t trust her.
Americans don’t yet know what to do with a presidential woman. Neither, it seems, does Clinton. Trump is making “anti-presidential” look easy, while she’s making the real thing look hard. That neurotic quality is what Kate McKinnon, on “Saturday Night Live,” pours into her strange, affectionate incarnation of Clinton: wanting the job so badly that she can seem pathologically presidential. She just happens to be running against somebody happy to act as if he doesn’t really want it at all.Americans don’t yet know what to do with a presidential woman. Neither, it seems, does Clinton. Trump is making “anti-presidential” look easy, while she’s making the real thing look hard. That neurotic quality is what Kate McKinnon, on “Saturday Night Live,” pours into her strange, affectionate incarnation of Clinton: wanting the job so badly that she can seem pathologically presidential. She just happens to be running against somebody happy to act as if he doesn’t really want it at all.