Rock, Paper, Scissors is a helpful analog to the current US Presidential Election. The game is “zero-sum” meaning someone wins and someone loses. In American politics Anger (rock) beats Issues (scissors) and Joy (paper) beats rock. You know this game; stay with me.
Trump’s 2016 campaign against Hillary Clinton was an example of rock prevailing over scissors. Paper never really entered the fray. Clinton played her hand as scissors, a policy wonk, maybe the smartness person you will ever know. Trumps play was rock which blunts or breaks scissors.
Trump’s strategy capitalized on a profound sense of disenfranchisement among a specific segment of the electorate—primarily less educated white voters who felt abandoned by the traditional political establishment. Trump’s approach wasn’t about the minutiae of policy; it was about channeling anger and frustration into a solid movement that defied conventional political wisdom. As improbable as it is, Trump won.
However, the very strategy that brought Trump his 2016 victory also sowed the seeds of his governance challenges and his eventual defeat to Biden in 2020. The polarizing nature of Trump’s rhetoric, while solidifying his base, made coalition-building and bipartisan support elusive, if not impossible. Coupled with that the absence of a substantive policy focus meant his administration often stumbled when it came to the heavy lifting of actual governance. Not knowing the rules and constraints on the Presidency and less about history, Trump got himself in trouble more than once which gave his opposition more reasons to attack him.
Trump’s behavior, particularly his inflammatory rhetoric, had a dual effect. It galvanized his core supporters, yes, but it also sparked a powerful, unified opposition—particularly among traditional Democrats and Black voters. Biden, positioned as the calm, steady alternative to Trump’s chaos, became the candidate these voters rallied around. With a bit of literary license, the tone of Biden’s candidacy was not really pure Joy, but it was certainly Not Anger. The endorsement of Congressman James Clyburn in South Carolina was not just a nod of approval; it was the ignition of a wave of enthusiasm among Black voters that carried Biden to victory. The result was a record-breaking voter turnout in 2020, with Biden securing a decisive win.
Even as the nation’s political landscape remained polarized, Trump’s continuous presence—be it through social media, legal challenges, or the January 6th investigation—kept the electorate on edge. His relentless visibility, though a boon for maintaining his base, led to a kind of fatigue among some voters. Those who had been marginal supporters of Trump or who had backed Biden out of opposition to Trump’s antics began to drift into the realm of the undecided. These voters, uncomfortable with Trump’s over-exposure and his “bull-in-a-china-shop” approach, also grappled with dissatisfaction over the state of the U.S. economy and international affairs under Biden.
The rigidity of voter preferences became glaringly evident early in the 2024 race at two critical moments. First, when Biden’s faltering debate performance failed to significantly alter the polls, despite raising concerns about his age and fitness for office. Second, after the attempted assassination of Trump, where one might have expected a surge of empathy and support for the former president, the polls remained largely unmoved. These instances underscored a deeply entrenched polarization, where voters are so firmly entrenched in their camps that even the most dramatic events fail to shift the needle.
In the run-up to the Democratic nomination, the pressure within the party finally bore fruit as Biden stepped aside, clearing the way for Vice President Harris to step into the spotlight. For many Democrats, this moment felt like the lifting of a cloud, a return of sunlight after a storm. Harris, with her energetic demeanor and infectious optimism, is a welcome relief from the aging and increasingly dour faces of Trump and Biden. The atmospherics of her rallies—brimming with hope and forward-looking energy—do more than just invigorate the Democratic base. They also began to draw in those disaffected independents who are seeking an alternative to the relentless negativity that had characterized the political discourse.
As the Democratic Convention approaches, Harris is poised to dominate the political conversation through Labor Day. This period will be crucial for her to hone her message, to pivot the national dialogue towards a hopeful, future-oriented vision that could resonate deeply with undecided voters. Meanwhile, Trump, ever the showman, will need to recalibrate his message. The first debate on September 10th will be his best—and perhaps last—chance to shift the narrative from Anger and grievance to a policy agenda (play the hand with Scissors), to challenge Harris on the issues, and to reassert his influence in a race that will otherwise hinge on the electorate’s appetite for hope versus more of Trump anger. Meaning Harris wins.
Trump can still play to win. But he needs to have a policy agenda, tone down the rhetoric, stay on message. Scissors cuts through Paper.
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