The just-concluded Republican National Convention felt more like a spiritual revival than a political convention. Two days before the convention, Donald Trump narrowly escaped having his head blown off on live television. Having garnered the aura of the miraculous survivor, Trump was greeted by a wild roar every time he entered Milwaukee’s Fiserv Forum, site of the convention. His supporters held out their phones like worshippers hold up their hands in prayer in an act of collective effervescence, the kind evoked by a charismatic preacher touched by the hand of God. The revival tent featured witness testimony of the good word from former Trump skeptics and critics who had seen the light and been converted. We also heard from the family members of martyrs; some of the most powerful speeches were devastating accounts from parents who had lost children to illegal-migrant crime, or fentanyl, or President Biden’s bungling of the withdrawal from Afghanistan.
Trump himself seemed overcome with emotion as he entered the arena on Monday night, with a look of wonder and gratitude replacing his usual grin. There was a new vulnerability to his countenance as he lorded over the convention’s proceedings from a box seat, silently taking in the show.