By David Brooks
Tuesday, July 04, 2017
Over the past two months the Trump administration and the
Republicans in Congress have proposed a budget and two health care plans that
would take benefits away from core Republican constituencies, especially
working-class voters. And yet over this time Donald Trump’s approval rating has
remained unchanged, at 40 percent. During this period the Republicans have
successfully defended a series of congressional seats.
What’s going on? Why do working-class conservatives seem
to vote so often against their own economic interests?
My stab at an answer would begin in the 18th and 19th
centuries. Many Trump supporters live in places that once were on the edge of
the American frontier. Life on that frontier was fragile, perilous, lonely and
remorseless. If a single slip could produce disaster, then discipline and
self-reliance were essential. The basic pattern of life was an underlying
condition of peril, warded off by an ethos of self-restraint, temperance,
self-control and strictness of conscience.
Frontier towns sometimes went from boomtown to Bible Belt
in a single leap. They started out lawless. People needed to impose codes of
respectability to survive. Frontier religions were often ascetic, banning
drinking, card-playing and dancing. And yet there was always a whiff of extreme
disorder — drunkenness, violence and fraud — threatening from down below.
Today these places are no longer frontier towns, but many
of them still exist on the same knife’s edge between traditionalist order and
extreme dissolution.
For example, I have a friend who is an avid Trump
admirer. He supports himself as a part-time bartender and a part-time home
contractor, and by doing various odd jobs on the side. A good chunk of his
income is off the books. He has built up a decent savings account, but he has
done it on his own, hustling, scrapping his way, without any long-term
security. His income can vary sharply from week to week. He doesn’t have much
trust in the institutions around him. He has worked on government construction
projects but sees himself, rightly, as a small-business man.
This isn’t too different from the hard, independent life
on the frontier. Many people in these places tend to see their communities the
way foreign policy realists see the world: as an unvarnished struggle for
resources — as a tough world, a no-illusions world, a world where conflict is
built into the fabric of reality.
The virtues most admired in such places, then and now,
are what Shirley Robin Letwin once called the vigorous virtues: “upright,
self-sufficient, energetic, adventurous, independent minded, loyal to friends
and robust against foes.”
The sins that can cause the most trouble are not the
social sins — injustice, incivility, etc. They are the personal sins —
laziness, self-indulgence, drinking, sleeping around.
Then as now, chaos is always washing up against the door.
Very few people actually live up to the code of self-discipline that they
preach. A single night of gambling or whatever can produce life-altering bad
choices. Moreover, the forces of social disruption are visible on every street:
the slackers taking advantage of the disability programs, the people popping
out babies, the drug users, the spouse abusers.
Voters in these places could use some help. But these
Americans, like most Americans, vote on the basis of their vision of what makes
a great nation. These voters, like most voters, believe that the values of the
people are the health of the nation.
In their view, government doesn’t reinforce the vigorous
virtues. On the contrary, it undermines them — by fostering initiative-sucking
dependency, by letting people get away with their mistakes so they can make
more of them and by getting in the way of moral formation.
The only way you build up self-reliant virtues, in this
view, is through struggle. Yet faraway government experts want to cushion
people from the hardships that are the schools of self-reliance. Compassionate
government threatens to turn people into snowflakes.
In her book “Strangers in Their Own Land,” the
sociologist Arlie Hochschild quotes a woman from Louisiana complaining about
the childproof lids on medicine and the mandatory seatbelt laws. “We let them
throw lawn darts, smoked alongside them,” the woman says of her children. “And they survived. Now it’s like your kid
needs a helmet, knee pads and elbow pads to go down the kiddy slide.”
Hochschild’s humble and important book is a meditation on
why working-class conservatives vote against more government programs for
themselves. She emphasizes that they perceive government as a corrupt arm used
against the little guy. She argues that these voters may vote against their
economic interests, but they vote for their emotional interests, for candidates
who share their emotions about problems and groups.
I’d say they believe that big government support would
provide short-term assistance, but that it would be a long-term poison to the
values that are at the core of prosperity. You and I might disagree with that
theory. But it’s a plausible theory. Anybody who wants to design policies to
help the working class has to make sure they go along the grain of the vigorous
virtues, not against them.
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