A Couple Intriguing Data Points for Understanding 2020 Elections

For anyone worried about the prospects of booting Trump and his lockstep supporters in Congress out of office in 2020, this Washington Post story documents heartening signs of panic among Republicans seeking to hold the House and Senate, as well as evidence that the suburban voters who carried Democrats to victory in the House are continuing to abandon the GOP.  Interviews with Republican politicians and voters in battleground districts in states like Georgia and Pennsylvania suggest Trump will be an albatross around the necks of many in the GOP come the next election cycle.

But what particularly struck me are the suggestions that things that Trump sees as his strengths — his position on immigration, his trade wars, his combativeness — seem to be driving away former Republican or Republican-friendly voters.  Changing attitudes on the question of gun control are especially eye-catching, as rising numbers of younger voters, combined with a shift in perceptions about the need to do something to stop the violence, suggest that hewing to the NRA line has become increasingly toxic for many GOP politicians.  Even as Trump’s base of support seems never to break below a certain level, voter attitudes nonetheless seem to be in flux in districts where such shifts could make a big difference, at least in the House, though some Republicans also see a threat to their hold on the Senate.

Along similar but more ambiguous lines, another pair of recent articles raise intriguing points about demographic changes in the Midwest that could impact the 2020 elections and beyond.  As Thomas Edsall summarizes, a rising proportion of the population of some states is living in urban areas (which seems to be related to in-state migration from more rural regions), which “combined with the decline of pro-Republican rural communities [. . .] may improve the odds for the Democratic Party and its candidates.”  At the same time, another study shows that the populations of Michigan, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Minnesota, and Wisconsin saw their populations of 65-and-older voters (who tend to favor the GOP) grow twelve times as fast as their populations of 18-35-year-olds (who tend to favor Democrats) — a demographic shift certainly not in the Democrats’ favor, and a significant detail as we try to understand our current political and cultural conflicts.  

That same Edsall piece also bring up another fascinating bit of research, this one by John Austin, the director of the Michigan Economic Center and former head of Michigan State Board of Education.  In an article at Politico, Austin presents a counter-intuitive case about the effect of an improving economy on Trump’s re-election chances:

[If] you look at the Trump-voting districts that flipped to Democrats in the 2018 midterms, it starts to look like the conventional wisdom is wrong. Contrary to the perception that a rebounding economy will work to the president’s benefit, there is growing evidence in Michigan and throughout the Rust Belt that metro areas that are bouncing back—and there are a bunch—are turning blue again. Indeed, communities that continue to flounder—and unfortunately there are still many of those, too—are likely to double down on Trumpism.

I did a mental double-take when I first read this, but Austin goes on to make a persuasive, or at least, provocative, case:

In communities that aren’t what they used to be, with grim job prospects and battered community pride, voters may continue to respond to someone who talks tough to America’s adversaries, promises to bring back the good old days when these communities were—at least in nostalgic hindsight—working-class utopias, and pins blame on immigrants for problems.

But there are many communities in the Rust Belt that have found ways to transition away from the single-industry model, be it cars or steel, that sustained them for so much of the 20th century. No longer is Minneapolis the "Flour City," Pittsburgh the "Steel City," or Cincinnati “Porkopolis”—a nod to its history as a slaughterhouse center—but diverse, dynamic urban entrepots. Among smaller cities, Akron, Ohio lost its title as “Rubber Capital of the World” but has found purchase with a revitalized downtown and growth in emerging polymers and plastics, advanced manufacturing industries, and as a transportation and logistics crossroads.

What these communities have in common, aside from better job prospects, is a generally more forward-looking view that is less responsive to Trump’s economic nostalgia. They also tend to be younger (thanks to colleges and universities and their ability to draw newcomers) and more diverse. These voters are more focused on basic kitchen table issues—good schools, affordable higher education, health care, decent roads—and less inclined to reward nativism and economic nationalism.

A major appeal of Austin’s take is its suggestion that positive material changes in people’s daily lives effectively helps drain the swamp waters in which Trumpism festers.  Start doing better, start seeing a future, and “you’re less inclined to reward nativism and economic nationalism.”  This reminds me of a darker notion I’ve had from time to time, which is that Trumpist politics and economics is basically self-perpetuating, as it continues to funnel money to the rich and to distract people by inciting their hatred against scapegoats.  If the economy is doing well for more middle-class and working-class Americans in some parts of the country, it may well be despite Trump’s economic policies.  Austin’s argument also means that an economic downturn may well supercharge Trump and the GOP’s chances in 2020, creating fertile ground to ramp up the hatred even more to distract from their economic failures.  At the same time, given Trump’s extreme emphasis on the health of the economy as the result of his efforts, it seems he may not have such a clear-cut case for blaming everyone but himself if it goes south.