Since capturing the nomination in May, Donald Trump has turned his sights on Hillary, spending the bulk of his time chronicling her failings as Secretary of State, the rampant pay-for-play corruption at the Clinton Foundation, and the criminal violation of national security protocols on her secret email server. His town halls have turned into anti-Hillary cheerleading camps—raucous made-for-television events defining Clinton’s narrative even while she was still fighting off Bernie Sanders in California. His poll numbers have climbed, he’s consolidating Republican support behind the scenes, and, he’s also put his management skills to work seamlessly integrating the RNC’s ground game and fundraising apparatus with his campaign’s band of happy warriors. Even the liberal media has been forced to admit this is Hillary’s worst nightmare coming true.
No, wait. That’s not quite right. Let’s try that again.
Trump’s numbers are in free-fall and his campaign is in disarray. By allowing the election to become a referendum on himself, Trump has managed to let Hillary Clinton off the hook as only the second worst presidential candidate of all time. He’s the pyromaniac candidate, spending the bulk of his time putting out fires he started. All the while, the RNC is exhibiting telltale signs of battered wife syndrome. They ask Trump to call 20 donors. He manages only to call three before turning up his nose and vowing to “do it very nicely by myself” while telling his own party to “just please be quiet; don’t talk.” Yet somehow, Trump also refuses to self-finance his campaign.
For those who haven’t worked in federal politics under the byzantine campaign finance laws that were designed solely to protect incumbents and ensure high legal fees for election lawyers, calling donors is a major part of the job description. Each call lasts about 25 minutes, and “call time” is usually blocked off in two to three hour chunks a day. Like any courtship, flattery and personal attention goes along way—two things we haven’t seen a lot of from Trump.
A lot of candidates don’t like call time, but they all do it. To refuse is a little like an astronaut refusing to wear their oxygen-filled helmet—even if it’s cumbersome, you kind of need it to survive.
In the meantime, donors are shaking their heads and moving on, doing what they can to ensure Hillary has an uphill battle after her inaugural address. Charles Koch just donated $3 million to help down-ballot races. The Chamber of Commerce started a “Save the Senate” fund. Even the RNC reportedly created a “Senate Trust Fund” for donors who wanted to ensure their money wasn’t going to help the top of the ticket. Maybe if Trump just tried telling them how stupid they are again?
It’s possible Trump is now trying to right the ship. But if firing Corey Lewandowski was Trump’s attempt at offering an olive branch to these donors, the effect has been more like poison ivy. While Republican donors were looking for a change in the campaign or even minimal effort by the candidate to reach new voters, firing Lewandowski on a Monday morning simply guaranteed another news cycle about campaign dysfunction and chaos, minimal fundraising numbers, and polling that shows Hillary pulling away. It may be a compelling episode for his reality show campaign, but it won’t raise money. And, once again, it showed donors in bright flashing lights Trump’s inability to go on offense in a week when the administration was trying to redact a terrorists’ allegiance to ISIS and Hillary was continuing to play hide and seek with the FBI.
It’s enough to make one question whether Trump actually wants to lose. Sure, he’s the guy who always wins. But maybe even he realizes this Andy Kaufman-esque performance art has gone too far. Like Ross Perot, who was leading the polls before dropping out in July 1992, Trump may just be overwhelmed by the possibility of becoming the leader of the free world. Or maybe his candidacy was always intended to help his good friend Hillary Clinton who he has yet to attack with the ferocity that he seems to save for Republicans.
In the meantime, there are a lot of donors waiting by their phones. And Donald ain’t calling.
Sarah Isgur Flores is a Republican strategist who has worked on three Republican presidential campaigns, including most recently as the Deputy Campaign Manager for Carly Fiorina. She is a graduate of Northwestern University and Harvard Law School.
