The most obvious takeaway from being in the United States during the 2016 election campaign?
People here seem have stopped commenting on the strangeness of it all. There’s a resignation that one of two deeply unpopular presidential candidates – Donald Trump or Hillary Clinton – will take the top job. Any wonder or analysis about how things got to this point is conspicuously absent.
Some say it’s a lifestyle choice. A concoction stemming from a quick-fix sound bite-driven society, combined with the power of the dollar and easily-manipulated sectors of the population. Perhaps.
Or the love of fame and the famous?
Or is it borne of a deep dissatisfaction, the idea among a segment of the population that they’ve been “missing out” – a desire to return to a time of ‘greatness’? Considerable sections of questionable history are swept under the rug of nostalgia and entitlement.
Donald Trump, an infinitely watchable character and master manipulator has received billions of dollars’ worth of media coverage, simply for being Donald Trump. Bombastic and controversial, any criticism of the man is instantly blamed on the 'biased liberal media', automatically cementing his rightness – in all senses of that word.
One region that seems to be buying into Mr Trump’s rhetoric is known as the Rust Belt. A collection of formerly prosperous industrial towns scattered across the Mid North and Great Lakes states; Michigan, Ohio, Indiana, Pennsylvania.
I travelled to two of these states to examine why traditionally Democrat-leaning towns have turned to Trump.
I’m acutely aware that in my own way, I’m adding to the sum total of that free publicity – but I can’t help myself. It feels fascinating, strange and important.
One of my first journeys in the Rust Belt is in the back of ShoMore DeNiro’s car in Youngstown, Ohio, on the way to a rally. ShoMore and her friend Justis Harrison are engaging with the democratic process for the first time. The target of their passion and affection is Donald Trump. This is unusual, given that Justis and ShoMore are 23-years-old, female and African-American – even more unusual when you realised ShoMore voted for Barack Obama four years ago.
But their new-Republican allegiances are not unusual in Ohio, in 2016.
Parts of America’s heartland are on the turn – and we wanted to explore that with this Dateline story. Something powerful has happened here, in a state that also happens to be famous for picking presidents – the winner of Ohio has won the presidency every year since 1960.
In Youngstown, Ohio, you can buy a three bedroom standalone house for US$6500. It’s a once-grand environment that from some angles looks like a mini-Manhattan, if you ignore the kilometres of rusting and disused steel factories. There are 1920’s skyscrapers, largely abandoned.
People describe themselves as being trapped here. It’s fertile ground for big promises, and that’s exactly what candidate Trump is providing.
People describe themselves as being trapped here. It’s fertile ground for big promises, and that’s exactly what candidate Trump is providing.
Great promises stick with people in desperate situations, even if they’re only semi-believed. Carlos Hernandez is a former steel worker born in the Dominican Republic, who tells me he doesn’t 100 per cent believe that Donald Trump will, as he promises, “return steel to the backbone of America” – but he’s willing to take that chance.
ShoMore and Justis long for a time when their town was doing well, during the heyday of steel. I didn’t have the heart to remind them that the days they hanker for, the 1940s, 50s and early 60s – also contained major limits to freedom for young people of colour.
When I told a man named Tony that I’d be going to Waynesburg, Pennsylvania next, he proceeded to outline a crucifix in mid-air, between my forehead and chest. I asked him what it was for, and he told me to be careful. “It can be an edgy place”, and there’s “a lot of angry white guys out there”.
It can be difficult to show up in a depressed town, when most people assume you’re there to document their misery. We arrive in Waynesburg and endure some of the requisite shouting and questions, before meeting Mike.
Mike is keen to go back to the dangerous but well-paid coal job he was laid off from a few months ago. He explains that Hillary Clinton and the Democratic party offer zero chance of re-opening the coal mines due to their environmental policy. Donald Trump, however, promises a small chance that the coal mines will re-open. Trump gets Mike’s vote on that small chance alone.
Coal is, incidentally, recognised as being outmoded, expensive and environmentally-unfriendly. But in towns like this in Western Pennsylvania, coal is a way of life. The people are unable or unwilling to move on, and every aspect of the economy – from property taxes to education – is tied to the industry.
Reporter Dean Cornish (L) talking to a local at a bar in Youngstown, Ohio. Source: SBS Dateline
Right now, they feel cut off at the knees. They cling to hope.
Coal’s not good for the environment. Nor are the massive SUVs and pickup trucks that rumble through town. Football, invented near here, is putting schoolkids into ambulances when we go to film it. Over the time I’m there, the food makes me fat, and the beer makes me feel stupid.
I realise, during my journey through the Rust Belt, that I don’t really see anyone doing things that are good for them. I don’t see anyone exercise. There seems to be little effort for self-preservation. Why preserve yourself in an environment that’s hostile to your ideals?
I leave the Rust Belt thinking if the battle for the White House in 2016 comes down to Candidate Trump’s anger and dissatisfaction, or Candidate Clinton’s promise of making the United States ‘Stronger Together’. Why would this electorate – downtrodden, angry and self-sabotaging – make the healthy decision here?
Why would they choose a positive slogan, over the promise of a return to a perceived time of ‘greatness’, and a place unknown? It will be interesting to see how these states vote in a month’s time.
