
I totally disagree with Chaiy Donati’s article ‘The Ghosts of 2016: How the Democrats’ betrayal of Bernie Sanders and the embrace of neoliberalism paved the way for Trump’ (Echo, November 13) about the reason Trump won the US election so convincingly. This election had very little, if anything, to do with policy.
We should consider the election and the current state of politics in the US through the lens of the late Alistair Mant, especially from his book, Leaders We Deserve and the Politics of Self Pity.
In the context of Mant’s theories, once the electorate has emotionally invested in a leader like Trump – someone who embodies their own grievances, fears, and desires – policies and promises from opponents like Harris become almost irrelevant. The political dynamics at play here are driven far more by identity, emotion, and narrative than by rational debate or evidence-based policymaking.
Why policies don’t matter
1. Emotional investment for Trump’s policy: For many voters, the decision to support Trump isn’t rooted in a careful analysis of his policies but in an emotional identification with his persona and narrative. Mant’s concept of the leaders we deserve suggests that Trump represents the collective psyche of a segment of the electorate – an embodiment of their anger, frustration, and sense of betrayal. This emotional bond is far stronger than any rational appeal based on policy specifics. When voters feel that Trump is one of them, or fighting for them, policy details become secondary.
2. Distrust of the establishment: In the current political climate, there is a deep-seated distrust of the political establishment, which Trump has skilfully capitalised on. Even if Harris were to present a well-reasoned policy platform or expose credible evidence of Trump’s corruption, it would likely be dismissed by his supporters as part of the very system they already distrust. Mant’s framework of self-pity aligns here: when people see themselves as perpetual victims of a corrupt elite, they are less likely to believe information that comes from traditional sources of authority.
3. The narrative of corruption is already baked in: Trump’s narrative has long been one of fighting against a ‘rigged system’. Claims of corruption against him don’t shock his base because they are already conditioned to believe that he’s being targeted unfairly by the same corrupt establishment he’s vowed to dismantle. In fact, accusations of corruption can often reinforce his victim narrative, making him appear even more as the embattled hero standing up against a powerful and hostile elite. This is a psychological twist Mant would recognise; the leader’s perceived flaws become part of their mythos, a sign that they are fighting the right enemies.
The power of identity politics
In the face of these dynamics, Harris and her campaign might find it nearly impossible to shift voter opinion because this election wasn’t about rational choice; it was about tribal identity. Voters who identify with Trump see the world through a lens shaped by his rhetoric; Biden is corrupt, and Harris is ‘low IQ’ – not because there is proof, but because Trump has framed them that way, and it fits the narrative his supporters have internalised.
The Democrats, no matter their policies or intentions, are the enemy – the embodiment of everything Trump’s base believes is wrong with the country.
In this scenario, it’s not about what Harris promises; it’s about who she represents in the minds of Trump’s supporters. They see her as part of the very system they’ve come to despise, no matter what she says or does.
Voter entrenchment and the death of persuasion
Mant’s theories would suggest that we’ve reached a point where voter entrenchment is so strong that there’s little room for persuasion. Trump’s followers have built their identity around their support for him, and their worldview is reinforced daily by the echo chambers of social media and alternative media outlets. In this environment we see:
1. Cognitive dissonance: Any new information that contradicts their beliefs (e.g. evidence of Trump’s corruption) causes cognitive dissonance and is quickly dismissed as ‘fake news’ or partisan attacks. Mant might argue that this is part of the broader psychological need to maintain a coherent narrative in the face of a chaotic and confusing world.
2. Moral framing: The battle has become a moral one, not a political one. For Trump’s supporters, it’s not just about whether he’s corrupt or whether Harris has good policies – it’s about a fight between good and evil, between ‘real Americans’ and a dangerous, radical left. Once this moral framing takes hold, it’s almost impossible to change minds through traditional political campaigning.
Lack of shock factor
There is no longer anything to ‘shock’ voters into changing their minds. Mant’s concept of the politics of self-pity helps explain why:
1. Normalisation of scandal: Trump’s presidency has been characterised by a near-constant stream of controversies and scandals. Over time, this barrage of accusations has had a desensitising effect on voters. They’ve heard so many claims of corruption that it no longer registers as significant. In Mant’s terms, the electorate has become inured to the drama, accepting it as part of the political landscape rather than as a disqualifying factor.
2. The power of in-group loyalty: Trump’s followers see attacks on him as attacks on themselves. This deep in-group loyalty means that criticism or shocking revelations don’t have the intended effect; instead, they reinforce a siege mentality. The more that Trump is criticised, the more his supporters rally around him, seeing it as proof that he’s fighting the right enemies.
3. Narrative control: Trump’s control over the narrative, especially through social media, means that he can quickly respond to or dismiss any accusations. His messaging is simple, direct, and repetitive, drowning out the complex, policy-focused responses from his opponents. In Mant’s analysis, this reflects a broader societal trend where simplified, emotionally charged narratives are far more effective than detailed policy debates.
An election beyond rational debate
In the end, Mant’s theories help us understand why Trump’s victory feels almost impervious to the usual dynamics of political campaigning. It’s not about policies, facts, or even evidence of wrongdoing; it’s about the emotional and psychological landscape of the electorate. Trump’s supporters are driven by a narrative of grievance, victimhood, and a desire for retribution. They’ve chosen their champion, and no amount of policy detail or proof of corruption is likely to break that bond.
Trump’s win, then, can be seen as a reflection of a deeper cultural and psychological shift – one where politics has become less about governance and more about identity, emotion, and belonging. In this environment, the leaders we elevate are those who can best channel our fears and desires, and no amount of rational argument can easily disrupt that connection.


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