Trump at the Iowa State Fair: In Retrospect
A reflection on the 2023 Iowa State Fair from the perspective of a Pennsylvania visitor, about one month later
Photo Courtesy of NPR
The flat, expansive Midwest is ripe ground not merely for the production of America’s crops, but also the testing of America’s leaders.
Most roads in Iowa appear to extend endlessly in each direction. The relentless monotony of the roadside sea of beige and green leaves unaccustomed drivers vulnerable and dazed. Far from water, far from cities, and far from anything that would obstruct the vast, disconcerting horizon, the visitor to the Midwest is exposed, as if he can be plucked from the sky at any moment. There is no hiding.
The Iowa State Fair, however, is consistently an opportunity for hiding. Presidential hopefuls hide behind their sloganeering and their faux, constructed down-to-earth personas, at the faux, constructed fairground exhibitions in semi-urban Des Moines.
Iowa is seen as “the real America,” and when presidential candidates attend the State Fair, they do so to earn credibility as “real Americans” (no matter how far from the truth this act may be). This has long been the name of the political game, and one can hardly blame candidates for playing along. And yet, the game has now long been utterly disrupted.
Ever since Trump descended the Trump Tower escalator in 2015, the rules have changed. People now seem to crave sincerity and disruption: no more workshopped simulacra of old-school America with its baseball and apple pie, but the real, contemporary America, with its tacky-yet-endearing entrepeneurial spirit.
On August 12, 2023, Trump certainly lived up to his persona as a disruptor. Unlike his primary contenders (and even the Democratic presidential candidates), Trump was not invited to the Iowa State Fair. Yet, he outshone everyone regardless.
Even before he set foot on the Fairgrounds, signs of Trump emanated from every direction — including the sky. While Ron DeSantis was participating in a genteel Fair Side Chat with Governor Kim Reynolds in the morning, a helicopter flew overhead with a taunting banner that read, “Be Likable, Ron!”. Later in the day, DeSantis was followed by fairgoers repeatedly chanting “We love Trump!” (Other candidates were not harassed in this way, but this is only because they did not attract considerable attention in the first place). The only moment in which a candidate truly commanded attention for himself outside of Trump’s shadow was when Vivek Ramaswamy rapped to Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” beside an unsuspecting Reynolds.
Once Trump’s private jet flew over the Fair, there was a palpable rush of energy on the ground. Every head was attentively turned toward the plane until the moment it left eyeshot. The shoulder-to-shoulder crowd of hundreds that congealed around the area where Trump would purportedly be flipping pork chops was blanketed with a giddy, childlike excitement. Such youthful giddiness is particularly noteworthy given the relatively old age of the huddled masses and the sweltering 90 degree heat.
As Trump began to walk through the fair, tension boiled over into elation. Murmurs turned into shocked declarations of “It’s him!”, as Trump’s unmistakable, wispy haircut gradually came into view. Fairgoers and reporters all clamored for the chance to get his attention. I was personally in a state of slight disbelief that Trump was actually present in front of me. It felt like I was watching an animatronic from Disney’s Hall of Presidents. I could not believe that he was real and that he was there.
Trump’s appearance at the Fair turned out to be brief. He did not say anything of note. But ultimately, he didn’t need to. Showing up uninvited was enough of a statement, and being the only candidate at the Fair to not give an official Fair Side Chat or stump speech was another method of distinguishing himself from the pack.
Trump arrived at the Fair during a brief window in his career — post-indictment but pre-mugshot — in which his political reemergence and call-to-action were crystallizing but not yet solidified. There was a sense among the crowd that we were all part of a history that had only just begun, contrary to dismissals of Trump by the media and even some other Republican contenders.
For his most ardent supporters, Trump is a Christ-figure: he performs miracles (2016) and displeases the Pharisees (the establishment), and as a result suffers death (2020) before his ultimate resurrection (2024). The fact that a Trump presidency happened at all is proof that even in an elite-dominated age of algorithmic prediction, anything can happen — that the world is still abundant, mysterious, and full of surprises. A Trump-critic may respond that Trump is an inverted Christ-figure, given that his mission is driven by narcissism rather than sacrificial love. But he is still a Christ-figure nonetheless.
The only person in the 21st century that potentially comes close to Trump’s level of fame and cultural salience is Taylor Swift. Like Trump, Swift has come to represent both America and adolescence. Swift is “Miss Americana;” the girl next door; folk-turned-commercial. Trump is the populist billionaire businessman; commercial-turned-folk. Swift embodies the teen girl’s struggle with love, lost innocence, and objectification in the public eye, while Trump embodies the teen boy’s disregard for authority, jockeying for dominance, and joie de vivre.
Ramaswamy repeatedly speaks about the idea of America undergoing adolescence. For Ramaswamy, America is not doomed to decline, contrary to somber declarations from both the left and the right. We are simply a young nation going through growing pains. He has stated: “I really just think we’re a little young, going through our own version of adolescence, figuring out who we really are.”
Since adolescence is a necessary stage on the passage from childhood to adulthood, the implicit suggestion is that the social and political turmoil of the present age is a necessary (even if not desirable) stage as well. And if adolescence is our current allotment, then we must ask: who is the best figure to carry us through this necessary stage? Wouldn’t it be the figure who understands it most intuitively?
Trump, not the younger and more spry Ramaswamy, is the candidate who actually embodies America, adolescence, and American adolescence. His contenders (Ramaswamy included) can only offer a pale imitation of this Trumpian essence.
I am willing to acknowledge the possibility that Trump’s power over the public psyche may not be inherent to his character. Trump’s power may be the result of algorithmically-driven memetic infection and think-pieces (such as this one) which speak it into existence.
But anyone who denies Trump’s power likely wasn’t at the Iowa State Fair and didn’t experience the sheer magnitude of his presence for themselves.
The memes and the think-pieces, just like Trump’s on-the-ground support, speak his power into existence, but they do so from a real, deeply-felt sense of need and urgency.
Once again safely nestled in the denser, hillier, and more confined spaces of the East Coast, I think back to the vulnerability I felt on the open, flat plains of Iowa, far even from the fairgrounds in Des Moines. Vulnerability comes from a place of desperation and hope, after all walls and enclosures have disappeared. Somehow, Trump found Americans when they were at their most vulnerable and galvanized them.
Do any other candidates elicit and respond to vulnerability in this same way?
Can they?
Thanks for an illuminating view on Trump from the diseased heart of America. I just wish these people would admit to themselves this man doesn't give a flying rat's patoot about them. Although only being in the Presidency for himself perhaps appeals to their own nihilistic narcissism - "Fuck everyone else, I'm getting mine!"
Now he's even more dangerous, as he's lost so much in the last week. He's an animal who desperately needs to be elected President to survive (he thinks, I'm not sure how that will work out).