IN THE run-up to the Republican National Convention, held in Cleveland between July 18th and 21st, Donald Trump lamented that its predecessor, in 2012, was “the single most boring convention I’ve ever seen”. As the party’s prospective nominee, he planned to prevent a repeat of that tedium, mainly by injecting “some show-biz” into the proceedings. On the evidence of the convention’s first three days, Mr Trump triumphed. The convention was one of America’s strangest and most compelling political set-pieces in decades. This was notwithstanding the C-grade celebrities, including a star of the reality television show “Duck Dynasty”, a golfer and a martial-arts impresario, whom Mr Trump wheeled out to praise him.
Proceedings at the Quicken Loans Arena plunged between perplexing inanity (to which the celebrities did contribute), shambles, and sometimes rowdy conflict among the almost 2,500 Republican delegates gathered to nominate Mr Trump. Little went according to plan. Entertainment aside, Mr Trump needed three things from the convention. He needed to impose a measure of unity on his divided party. He needed to project a sense that he is qualified to be president—which almost 60% of Americans doubt. And he needed to appear more likeable—especially to the third of Republican voters who dislike him. On these criteria, the convention looks to have been a crashing failure.
The degree to which Mr Trump’s populist takeover of the Republican Party has rent it is hard to exaggerate. The party’s past two nominees, John McCain and Mitt Romney, refused to come to Cleveland. So did the past two Republican presidents, the Georges Bush, and their son and brother, Jeb Bush, a humiliated former opponent of Mr Trump’s who says he is mulling voting for the Libertarian Party. John Kasich, another vanquished rival, also gave the convention a miss—though, as the governor of Ohio, he was responsible for arranging its ample security. A dozen notable congressmen also stayed away, especially those, such as Senator Mark Kirk of Illinois and Mr McCain, in Arizona, who face daunting re-election battles which Mr Trump’s name on the ballot will probably make harder.
No wonder Mr Trump needed reality television stars to speak for him. Among elected Republicans, Chris Christie and Scott Walker, the governors of New Jersey and Wisconsin, were the only heavyweight speakers prepared to give him a fulsome endorsement. The Speaker of the House of Representatives, Paul Ryan, who was chairing the convention, gave a speech, notionally in support of Mr Trump, in which he referred to him only twice—and both times in the same breath as his running-mate, Governor Mike Pence of Indiana, whose caustic conservatism Mr Ryan approves of more. That was one more mention than Senator Ted Cruz, a distant runner-up in the primaries and talented orator, afforded Mr Trump.
Bigger, not better
In a theatrical performance—delivered in a prime-time viewing slot on Day Three—Mr Cruz first congratulated the tycoon on his victory, then delivered a virtuoso argument for freedom and the constitution, conservative orthodoxies in which Mr Trump has little interest. “We deserve leaders who stand for principle,” said Mr Cruz, to, initially, thunderous acclaim from a crowd grateful, at last, for a revivifying dose of conservative dogma. “Please, don’t stay home in November,” Mr Cruz continued: “Stand, and speak, and vote your conscience, vote for candidates up and down the ticket who you trust to defend our freedom and to be faithful to the constitution.” But then it dawned on the crowd that Mr Cruz had not named Mr Trump because he did not mean him. He had just punked the convention. As many Trump supporters began to boo, members of the Trump campaign rushed around the delegates, allegedly trying to whip up more dissent. To deflect attention from the wrecking-job afoot onstage, Mr Trump entered the arena and stood waving generally, with a waxen half-smile, like a senile dictator. By the time Mr Cruz finished, there was pandemonium; his wife Heidi, assailed by livid Trump supporters jeering “Goldman Sachs!” (the capitalist outfit for which she works), had to be escorted outside by bodyguards.
Many delegates were also unhappy with their party’s choice. The opening day of the convention saw a last-ditch effort by some anti-Trump holdouts to express their dissent by forcing a disapproving vote on Mr Trump’s rules for the convention; they were drowned out by a burst of aggressive whipping and loud rock music. The 721 delegates who voted against Mr Trump’s nomination the next day, during the official tallying of his support, nonetheless made up the Republicans’ biggest dissenting vote since 1976, when Gerald Ford sealed his defeat of Ronald Reagan on the floor of the convention. Even many of Mr Trump’s loyal delegates seemed a bit half-hearted in their support; asked whether his champion was a Republican or a conservative, a delegate from North Carolina responded: “No, not yet.”
Even so, as the disapproving response to Mr Cruz suggested, most delegates were prepared to back Mr Trump, whatever their misgivings about his disapproval of free trade and thuggish style, in order to wrest power from the Democrats; 90% of Republican voters say the same. Yet anyone looking to this convention for evidence that Mr Trump has the wherewithal to perform that feat must be disappointed. It was muddle-headed and disorganised, reflecting a campaign effort that appears amateurish, underfunded and insufficient.
The programme was a mess; the convention’s expected breakout star, Senator Joni Ernst of Iowa, ended Day One speaking to a near-empty arena. Then a more embarrassing scandal erupted. It emerged that a moving tribute to Mr Trump by his Slovenian-born wife, Melania, contained passages lifted from Michelle Obama’s address to the 2008 Democratic Convention.
Paul Manafort, Mr Trump’s campaign chief, denied this was plagiarism; Mr Christie said it was no big deal. By the time the Trump campaign admitted that Mrs Trump’s wife had plagiarised the wife of the man he declares unfit to be president, the kerfuffle had dominated TV coverage of the convention for a day. It made those around Mr Trump, a self-declared straight-shooter and problem-solver, appear phoney and incompetent. It made a mockery of his own ambition to show a softer side to his unloved character.
Timeline: United States presidential nominating conventions
As The Economist went to press, Mr Trump had a chance to turn things around in his closing speech. It is the most important part of any convention and, given his charisma and his campaign’s reliance on it, that may be especially true for Mr Trump. Even so, the most enduring moment of this convention may prove to be from Day Two. It was supposed to be dedicated to the economy; “Make America work again” was its theme. Yet, in the absence of almost any talk onstage of jobs, business or Mr Trump’s economic plans, such as they are, the crowd began chanting a more appropriate slogan: “Lock her up! Lock her up!”
Hatred of Hillary Clinton, whom Mr Trump says is undeserving of her liberty, never mind the presidency, was the leitmotif in Cleveland. The word “Hillary” was spoken disdainfully onstage that day more often than “Trump” or “America”, and four times more often than “economy”. Almost all Mr Trump’s headline speakers joined the attack on his Democratic rival. The grieving mother of one of the four Americans killed by militants in Benghazi in 2012 blamed Mrs Clinton for their deaths—an allegation rubbished by nine official investigations so far. Scott Baio, a television actor in 1980s sitcoms, defended a tweet in which he labelled Mrs Clinton a “cunt”. Ben Carson, another former opponent of Mr Trump’s, suggested a possible link between the former First Lady and Satanism. The Republicans, their convention has confirmed, are irredeemably divided behind an unloved candidate whose platform and organisation appear unfit for the coming campaign. Rallying in detestation of his opponent is their only hope.
They are fortunate she presents such a juicy target. Mrs Clinton is almost as disliked as Mr Trump, which is why, despite his poor ratings, he remains within touching distance of her. An historically hateful campaign looks inevitable. The question, which the first post-convention polls may begin to answer, is which of the two will that hurt most?