Trump, tariffs, and daycare

Donald Trump’s appearance at the Economic Club of New York has been getting a lot of attention.

The Washington Post reports:

Former president Donald Trump gave a confusing answer Thursday when asked about making child care more affordable, suggesting the costs would be brought down by his proposed tariffs on foreign nations. …

Trump made the comment during an appearance at the Economic Club of New York, where a panelist asked him what legislation he would prioritize to reduce the cost of child care.

After saying he “would do that” and calling it a “very important issue,” Trump pivoted to pitching “taxing foreign nations at levels they’re not used to — but they’ll get used to very quickly.” Trump has long discussed slapping tariffs of at least 10 percent on imports, raising concerns of a trade war if he returns to the White House. …

Trump went on to suggest that the tariffs would generate trillions of dollars for the country to address a range of its needs. Child care, he added, would be “not very expensive compared to the kind of numbers we’ll be taking in.”

“We’re going to make this into an incredible country that can afford to take care of its people,” Trump said.

Numerous observers are saying such statements are evidence of his cognitive decline.

Trump’s tariffs-for-day-care makes more sense than his liberal despisers appreciate. This is a campaign pitch, not a white-paper. We have a problem, he says, it will cost money to fix, but I’ll make others pay. I won’t raise your taxes.

This is a version of the wall he said Mexico would pay for. He ends his pitch with “This is about America first.” It might seem like a throwaway line, but it’s the essence. His voters hear a man who is on their side, wants to favor them no matter what. Maybe tariffs won’t pay for day-care. We can dream, can’t we?

Trump doesn’t campaign as an empiricist, he campaigns as a fantasist, a barker, an impresario who promises wonders beyond your imagining if you will just buy a ticket (i.e. vote for him) and step into the tent.

More importantly, Trump understands–as all great salesmen do–that people want the fantasy. At some level they know it’s too good to be true, but believing the impossible is part of the American birth-right. 

They want to believe that if they buy this hat they’ll be irresistibly glamorous, this car they’ll be incredibly dashing, this house there will be gaiety and happiness and parties on the lawn all summer. 

Yes, they know: the hat will be out of style next season, the car will lose its smell and get dinged, the house is more than you can afford and, worst case scenario, come summer’s end, you might be floating face-down in the pool. It always comes to that, we all know it, but we long for that moment where we believe it will all work out just as planned, no pain, all pleasantness–even if it’s just in our heads.

Great political oratory has never been all that far from carnival barking. Yes, it over-promises, and you can focus on the factual inaccuracies if you wish–you won’t be wrong. As The Atlantic points out, we ought to be holding “Trump to a bar higher than he answered a question with words that did not make sense.” But great oratory is less about what it describes than what it does: It makes you believe.

The medicine show pitchman “is the progeny of the confidence man of the mid to late-nineteenth century,” writes Owen Cantrell. The confidence man addresses the needs and desires of the audience, liberating them from the restrictions of empirical thinking, allowing the “free reign of the imagination.” Listeners believe even as they disbelieve. “Persuasion through imagination and desire was the genius of the medicine show and the reason for its massive popularity. The medicine show was not making rational arguments based upon the scientifically verifiable facts.” Instead, pitchmen “played upon the desires of the audience to be rid of” their worries. They “entertained and entranced.” In large part, the entrancement was itself the attraction.

Lyndon Johnson used to invite people to his campaign rallies by saying “Come down and hear the talkin’!” He understood that words were powerful, not just for what they promised about the future, but for the worlds they built right now.