Rebooted Republican convention gives Trump a chance to boost his troubled campaign

America’s Republican Party has conceded that the November presidential race is nothing to do with policy. Instead, it has everything to do with the cuckoo occupying their nest since 2016, Donald John Trump.

Policy at the Republican Party convention in Charlotte, North Carolina is not just taking a back seat. It is an irrelevant afterthought. Covid-19 has hijacked the convention agenda committee. Bizarrely, the party has decided to adopt its 2016 platform for the 2020 election, lock stock and barrel.

It’s so out of date, it is full of references to Barack Obama’s record. Imagine Margaret Thatcher deciding in 1979 to run on Ted Heath’s manifesto of October 1974. The convention, where policies are usually thrashed out, was slated to take place in Charlotte between 24th – 27th August. Now it’s not, sort of.

Faced with a monumental strop between North Carolina’s Democratic governor, Roy Cooper, and Trumpus Iratus, the event will now, like any decent Netflix drama, play out over two series. Series one will take place, in Charlotte, with a rump of around 360 delegates, to go through the motions of the official business, and then 15,000 extras will descend, for series two, on Jacksonville, Florida. There they shall hail Trumpus Invictus, placing the laurel wreath on the presidential bonce.

Why the strop? On June 13th North Carolina saw the highest one-day increase in coronavirus cases since the pandemic struck. Governor Cooper has had a bad Coronavirus PR war and is having the pants sued off him in state courts by pressure groups, ranging from the “he did too much” brigade to “he did bugger all” crew. That’s litigious America for you. The truth is, he and his state have done pretty well. North Carolina’s death toll is 4,220 per million of the population compared with New York’s shocking 20,792. Governor Cooper, not unreasonably, fears a second virus wave.

The Republican National Committee (RNC) and the president were insisting on a fully attended, full-on convention. In previous meetings with the Democratic-led state administration, GOP (Grand Old Party) officials made clear the president’s desire – fixation is more like it – for a 50,000-person convention, without social distancing or mask-wearing measures, and full-capacity hotels, restaurants and bars.

Trumpus Irrationalibus twittered that Cooper’s curbing of a gathering of 50,000 unmasked, untested, socially-proximating delegates, arriving from every Covid-struck state in the Union, was an evil Democratic ploy to spike his guns. Here is part of the governor’s letter that caused the president to fly off the handle. “The people of North Carolina do not know what the status of Covid-19 will be in August, so planning for a scaled-down convention with fewer people, social distancing and face coverings is a necessity.” Fair enough. Especially since North Carolina’s outbreak has not yet peaked.

The RNC was prepared, initially, to swallow that, but Trump swept away all objections. He is not a scale-down sort of guy. The RNC meekly caved. The dilemma was that having committed publicly to Charlotte as the venue for carrying out formal business, the location could not be changed. That may seem weird, but the pragmatic reason – contractual obligations aside – is to prevent last gasp relocation of conventions to out of the way places, where outcomes may be smoke-filled-room manipulated.

Huzzah! It’s “Get Ready Florida”, as the Tampa Bay Times greeted the news that Jacksonville, in politically critical territory for Republicans – Florida is a swing-state – is the chosen one.

Do conventions matter? I think they do – and not just as presidential campaign platforms, Attending the Republican convention of 2016 in Cleveland, Ohio, I was struck by how much serious policymaking went on; a hectic timetable of convention events running from breakfast meetings through to the daily late afternoon traipse to the convention hall to wear funny hats, wave gormless banners and let what was left of anyone’s hair down.

The impression that ideas no longer matter for Republicans will do damage to their dogged, decades-long and quietly successful campaign to capture political power at state level. In 1990 Republicans held 21 state capitols compared with the Democrats’ 29. Today the balance of power is reversed, 26 to 24.

It is easy outside America to forget that the country is a federal entity of states, each with its own constitution. Government in Washington DC dominates the headlines, while much of the real grunt work impinging on day to day on voters’ lives takes place closer to home.

The most significant impression I took away from Cleveland in 2016 was the cross-state interplay between delegations on policy crunching. I masqueraded as an “Adviser” – what a hoot – to the Ohio delegation. The substantive diet of a typical day was law and order from Florida, health care from Michigan, then education from Indiana, Vice President, Mike Pence’s home state. Dessert was spun candy floss in the convention hall.

The Republican paradox is that gorging on convention candy floss in Jacksonville may gut it of an up to date policy platform, but it does play to their candidate’s strengths. Anointed in Charlotte, Donald Trump will head to Florida, effectively his home state, for what amounts to a coronation. The simplistic format, a stage-managed rally of the faithful, is tried and tested, one with which he is comfortable. It is billed as a celebration. Celebrations are “beautiful”.

Incidentally, where did rallies begin? President Benjamin Harrison travelled 10,000 campaigning miles across the US by rail in 1891. He is forgettable, but for one arcane fact. The term POTUS (President Of The United States) was coined during Harrison’s administration, as an identifying symbol on the train orders for his numerous special trains. It wasn’t The West Wing that invented it after all. Trump may continent criss-cross by plane, but the principle is the same as old.

Trump’s world is one of stark contrasts. He’s never happier than when outflanking staid opponents. And his Democratic rivals have sold the pass. Their convention will either take place as planned, probably diminished – or go virtual.

Democratic National Committee (DNC) Chairman, Tom Perez, said last week that Democrats were ready to descend on Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where their convention is planned. The party would “not abandon Milwaukee.” But, in the next breath, Perez said that he wasn’t sure how many people would attend, because it is still unclear what the public health situation will be in mid-August. Democrats are ready – and willing to go virtual. Trumpus Laetus.

Some would prefer it. Scour local press and here’s what they are saying. Vic Verma, a delegate from nearby Merrill, said he would rather attend a virtual convention: “Given the current situation in our country, the risks that are involved and the fact that we have gone through the whole process of becoming a delegate virtually, I would like to perform my duties from home, virtually,” he said. “I think it’s the safer course of action.”

Democrats are busy ironing out rules for virtual voting. What they are not doing is preparing contingency plans for a public hullaballoo, should Milwaukee be pared back, or turned almost entirely virtual. In the flesh, their certain candidate, word-stumbling Joe Biden, is a problematic proposition. A virtual Biden could turn surreal. President Trump salivates over the prospect of Biden addressing sparse crowds in Milwaukee, while he is huzzaed by 15,000 fans in Jacksonville.

Trailing in the polls, with a wonky Covid track record that has even the loyal and veteran health adviser, Anthony Fauci, palming his face, the August convention season gives Donald Trump a heaven-sent opportunity to reboot his campaign. Instinctively, he has grabbed the chance with both hands. He will appeal directly to his base without the distorting lens of Republican party business fogging the message. To hell with policy platforms. This will be Trumpus Felix.