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Long before I became a journalist, I was a political activist and campaign staffer. I grew up in the trenches. And while I love the policy side of things, I understand that politics is largely a performance. If the performers please us, we’re happy and we clap — usually in the form of votes, donations, and perhaps action. As Michelle Obama said, “Do something.” If we approve, we give them power.
And though politics is largely performative — the spinning of stories and images and sounds that flood our pleasure or anger centers, that unsettle or reassure or delight or compel us — it nonetheless embodies much that is real, or that at least feels real and relevant to us as individuals, as citizens, as human beings.
How people choose to publicly present themselves and their values tells us a great deal.
And so does how they characterize others.
I remember, after watching the Democratic convention, those moments when, despite our awareness that it is a show, we were transported. Surely, one of those moments was when we were introduced to Tim Walz’s children, and particularly his 17-year-old son, Gus.
The families of politicians know that cameras will be on them, and usually act accordingly, but they’re also human, and we always get some sense of what is actually going on inside.
So when I saw Gus yelling “That’s my Dad” and crying, it had quite an impact on me. At first I thought, my gosh, this young man is so passionate and so open. And then it dawned on me that he was a bit different from some of the other children of the candidates.
That’s when I, and apparently many others, began wondering, and Googling, and got a quick look at yet another fascinating aspect of the Walzs’ ordinary, and yet exemplary, lives. We learned that their son has special needs and, with them, special talents.
Reasonable people of all political persuasions simply felt their hearts open to this trusting young man and his authentic emotions laid bare. Reasonable people.
But not the Trump machine and some of the loudest voices behind it. As soon as they sensed that vulnerability on the other side, they tore into this innocent, obviously sensitive kid.
The mildest assault came from the ghoulish Ann Coulter, who called Gus “weird.” From there, it got worse.
The kid might have mental problems, but he’s acting just like Tim Walz! So, what’s Walz’s excuse? (Dinesh D’Souza, convicted felon pardoned by Trump)
Tim Walz’ son Gus wears eyeliner. (Terry Schilling, president of the LGBT-bashing American Principles Project)
Get that kid a tampon already. (Podcaster Alec Lace, who crudely alleged that Harris did not get to the top on merit)
Tim Walz stupid crying son isn’t the flex the left thinks it is. You raised your kid to be a puffy beta male. Congrats. (Mike Crispi, chairman of America First Republicans of New Jersey; posted a claim that Barron Trump doesn’t cry)
Blubbering bitch boy. (Extremist radio host Jay Weber)
When you find the one working McDonald’s Ice Cream machine in your city. (Posted with a photo of Gus crying. (Autism Capital, Trump supporter who ridicules autism)
Of course, once they’ve spewed this sort of thing, they backpedal or cover up. Coulter later deleted her posting. Expect others to do so.
But they’re thrilled to give voice to their meanness. They’re thrilled that Trump does it so openly.
At this point, nothing the self-described “party of family values” does should surprise us. And yet, Trump just keeps lowering the bar. (As when he physically mocked a disabled person. Or when he said the disabled, with all their expensive gear and care, “should just die.” And when he spoke scornfully of John McCain, and others who sacrificed so much for this country.)
What kind of people would do something like this? We know what kind of people.
Bullies and cowards. People full of hate.
And these people vote.
So this is what we ought to be saying to voters — especially the fraction of a fraction in battleground states whose decision will mean all the difference in the world: This election, like all elections but never more so, is about two basic questions: What kind of people are we? What kind of people do we want leading us?
This is our Gus Walz moment.
