During his acceptance speech at the Republican National Convention in Cleveland, Donald Trump offered a litany of malevolent actors that could be blamed for America’s “moment of crisis”: “government incompetence” and “leaders who fail their citizens,” an Obama administration that has “failed them at every level,” companies that outsource jobs, “horrible and unfair trade deals,” China and other “countries that cheat,” and the “elites in media, and politics, who will say anything to keep a rigged system in place.” The real-estate mogul is running, he insists, “so that the powerful can no longer beat up on people that cannot defend themselves.”
This has proven to be a powerful message among Trump supporters, especially the white working class. Yet it is also these themes of resentment and a “rigged system” that exacerbate the most harmful tendencies and mindsets of his supporters, and illustrate how Republicans have failed the white working class. That’s one of the conclusions by J.D. Vance in his superb new memoir, Hillbilly Elegy.
In a book that is by turns hilarious and heart-wrenching, Vance recounts growing up poor in the Rust Belt community of Middletown, Ohio. His mother suffered from drug addiction, cycled through multiple husbands, and once threatened his life. But with the love and support of his grandparents and other family members and mentors, he never gave up on himself and eventually became a Marine and graduate of Yale Law School. Still, there was a question that haunted him, as he told the Wall Street Journal in a recent interview: “Why is it that there aren’t many people—or any people—from a background like mine at places like Yale?”
It is certainly true that residents of Appalachia and the Rust Belt often struggle with forces beyond their control, whether it’s manufacturers that close up shop and move overseas or children who are born into families broken by drugs, divorce, and unemployment. But Vance identifies a disturbing fatalism among those he calls “hillbillies.” From a young age, many are taught that the deck is stacked against them, that they should keep low expectations for themselves, and that there are larger forces at work that they are powerless to overcome. “We talk about the value of hard work,” Vance writes, “but tell ourselves that the reason we’re not working is some perceived unfairness: Obama shut down the coal mines, or all the jobs went to the Chinese. These are the lies we tell ourselves to solve the cognitive dissonance—the broken connection between the world we see and the values we preach.”
Vance later expands upon this point a bit, finding fault with the conservative movement more broadly:
Trump’s message is resonating in these parts of the country because he is telling many residents what they already believe: that society and government is to blame for all of their problems. A more helpful and hopeful message from conservatives would encourage the white working class to take responsibility for their conduct and work ethic, and to act as good role models for their families, churches, and communities, rather than becoming enraged by divisive political debates. As Vance told the Journal, “I want pastors and church leaders to think about how to build community churches, to keep people engaged, and to worry less about politics and more about how the people in their communities are doing. I want parents to fight and scream less, and to recognize how destructive chaos is to their children’s future.”
Vance’s memoir is essential reading for understanding the plight of the white working class, a group that Republicans have previously neglected and now inflamed, but too rarely helped.
Daniel Wiser is an assistant editor of National Affairs.
