Donald Trump is a mysterious figure in political life. It has become a cliché to say that in 2015 he launched a hostile takeover of the Republican Party. He questioned its commitment to free trade, to muscular military intervention abroad, and to its embarrassing tolerance of mass illegal immigration. It was broadly believable that he could win the nomination, so long as there were multiple “Republicanism is just fine, thanks” candidates dividing the anti-Trump vote. The more shocking thing was that he could then swiftly win the loyalty of most of the party that he had been beating up for nine months (including its donor class) and defeat a candidate the opposition party had sheltered and consolidated around as early as was practicable.
But sometimes families are at their strongest precisely because they’ve just come through a knock-down, drag-out argument over the Thanksgiving table. There’s energy, passion, and even a renewed affection among those tilting at each other, a feeling that what you said, even if it didn’t triumph, mattered.
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