The ceremonial burning of lecture notes from introduction to American politics courses is a largely neglected contributing cause to the more intense wildfires that have tormented the western United States in the past few years. Struggling in the Trump era with how and how much to revise old lectures on parties, elections, and the bureaucracy, for starters, it’s easy to understand why instructors would just give up and start from scratch. Donald Trump’s astoundingly successful campaign for the presidency in 2016, amazingly unsuccessful presidency in the following years, and continual whining about the election he lost all force us to reexamine what we thought we knew about how American political institutions and politics work.

Major questions focus on the extent to which Trump and Trumpism can find roots and antecedents in the politics of the past, how much Trump is a departure from the past, and how—if ever—Trump starts to recede and is followed by something (and someone) else. Scholars jumped into these questions since Trump’s 2016 victory undermined much of what we thought we knew about how elections work. Considering the politics, persona, and policies of Trumpism, along with the intense pushback Trump provoked, there’s plenty of room for new work. These two books, which offer very different approaches, are worthy early contributions to what will surely be a long stream of literature that we never thought we would need, but now most certainly do.

Carter Wilson’s Trumpism: Race, Class, Populism and Public Policy takes a comprehensive approach to the Trump phenomenon, synthesizing a great deal of work to offer a kind of extended briefing book. He situates Trumpism in a larger political context, and then considers in some detail the policy implications of the Trump presidency, with a particular focus on policies that affect working people and people of color.

Wilson finds a malign consistency in the Trump phenomenon, in which the person has long believed what the persona articulates and, once in office, presides over a series of racist, xenophobic, and antilabor policies. He notes that Trump claims to admire Ayn Rand, but can’t quite code Trump as a libertarian. Rather, he asserts that “Trump’s worldview is eclectic … a blend of neoliberalism, nationalism, and racialism, couched in authoritarianism” (pp. 36–37). But it’s probably a mistake to take Trump on his word for any of this—really, can you imagine him stumbling through the thousand-plus-page doorstops on which Rand’s reputation rests? I think contradictory and inconsistent are better descriptions of Trump’s politics. Remember, he changed parties, changed positions on virtually all issues, and made conflicting promises on matters of policy. As a candidate and even as an occupant of the Oval Office, Trump’s personality mattered; Wilson describes him as an “authoritarian narcissist” and moves on. Mostly, political scientists—including Wilson—are reluctant to allow psychological analysis—pop or otherwise—to substitute for politics and policy. But the big story here is that the only consistency in the Trump persona is a relentless fixation on himself and his interests, very narrowly defined.

Wilson explains that while tens of millions voted for Trump, particularly critical were the white working class, who were motivated by economic distress and political neglect, mixed in with doses of racism, sexism, and xenophobia. Trump triumphed on territory that had been ploughed by a decades-long war of ideas fought and funded by a corporate elite, including, most notably, Charles and David Koch, and routinely salted by Fox News. Trump surfed the coalescence of four sometimes-overlapping interests: corporate elites, the Tea Party, the Christian right, and a white nationalist movement. This admixture was possible only in an environment of steadily increasing economic inequality.

In office, Trump felt no obligation to deliver on any promises that might compromise his coalition of support. Wilson is particularly concerned with the policy outcomes of Trumpism, offering summary chapter treatments of Trumpian policies on labor; healthcare; social welfare, education, and tax cuts; voter suppression; and race, class, and police policy.

Here, I think Wilson overstates the coherence and impact of Trump’s agency. As a promoter of legislation, a manager of the bureaucracy, and a policy innovator, Trump was stymied by the institutional blocks built into American politics—and his own shifting commitments. When Republicans enjoyed control of Congress, they spectacularly failed to repeal the Affordable Care Act (ACA, or Obamacare), and Trump never delivered the promised Trumpcare, that would be both better and cheaper. To be sure, with craven and careless appointments, he chipped away at the ACA and undermined government functioning. But a poorly functioning government is very much in line with contemporary Republican interests. The signal accomplishment of the Trump presidency was a regressive tax cut, one that was very much in line with the Republican Party politics of the past four decades. Judicial appointments, mostly outsourced to the Federalist Society and Mitch McConnell, delivered—and continue to deliver—the revanchist reforms promised by Republican presidents since the Reagan administration.

While policy faltered, persona did not, and Trump steadily delivered divisive and damaging rhetoric that inspired the nastiest elements of his base and provoked the opposition. Wilson considers Trump’s steadfast rhetorical support of the police—at least until January 6, 2021. Trump’s version of law-and-order authoritarian policies comprised apologies and cheers for law enforcement, wrapped in a bravado that encouraged police to act strongly and often violently against the disorderly, often portrayed as Black, Muslim, or Latino. It’s all awful, but not the sea change in policy and politics that Trump promised. Wilson notes continuity, and there are lecture notes that we can salvage.

In contrast, in Trump’s Democrats Stephanie Muravchik and Jon A. Shields focus on explaining a dramatic and demonstrable change. They empirically examine a much-thinner section of the Trump phenomenon in 2016, digging into three towns that had, up until 2016, reliably voted for Democratic presidential candidates. Each reports well under 20,000 registered voters and, even after 2016’s watershed, the Democrats still enjoy a registration advantage in all of them. The three towns afford a prismatic view of a wedge of Trump voters: Johnston in Democratic Rhode Island, Elliott County in Kentucky (which is now reliably Republican), and Ottumwa, an island in Iowa (which can look a little like a swing state if you squint). All voted overwhelmingly for Trump and against Hillary Clinton, the Democratic candidate. The authors conducted extended ethnographies and scores of interviews, and provide thick description and analysis of the factors that led these historically Democratic enclaves to defect and support Trump’s Republican candidacy.

The extremely thin margins of the 2016 election, where a few tens of thousands spread across three key states swung the Electoral College, make virtually every change potentially decisive, so these authors have a good claim that the Democratic Party’s failure to hold onto its historic supporters was the critical flaw that allowed Trump to take office.

What was it about the Trump candidacy and Make America Great Again (MAGA) that peeled additional white working-class voters off from the Democratic Party? Trump promised a vaguely defined restoration of an imagined past, when things really were better—at least for white people without college degrees. Muravchik and Shields show that while the past evoked might be imaginary, in real life—in these three towns and elsewhere—things were really getting worse. Partly, this is a function of public policy and growing inequality, as well-paying jobs leaving the area and, with them, ambitious young people. The Democratic Party seemed to serve well-educated cosmopolitans in large cities and then women, people of color, and even immigrants—everyone but them.

Promises and proposals about policy aren’t very powerful politics here, partly because the new Trump voters haven’t paid much attention to the details or policy. They are, however, tuned into the reality of their communities and their lives. Here, the persona Trump projected proved to be of critical importance. The voters didn’t doubt that Trump was basically a self-interested con man, but the candidate’s promise—that he would also look out for them—resonated in ways that ambitious programmatic reform proposals did not.

The con man’s pitch worked, the authors argue, because each of these communities maintained an “honor culture,” which means an admiration for men who vigorously defend their values and their families, without too much regard for formal rules or laws. They explain that “[a] person, especially a man, must not tolerate either insults or assaults, and must show his readiness to respond with violence if necessary” (p. 38). Trump, they observe, displayed “dragon energy” (p. 39) by fighting back—insulting offenders and encouraging supporters to do more than talk. Tough talks, and especially talk about toughness, were not bugs, but attractive features to would-be Trumpian voters. Coarse displays of machismo or conspicuously racist portrayals of others were attractive features to them. In contrast, the more careful cosmopolitan leadership of the Democratic Party, which prizes education, rules, and bureaucratic fairness, was yet another offense to those who are left behind.

For Muravchik and Shields, Trump is seen as a “boss” who will take care of his people, with little regard for rules, compromise, or universal standards of justice. It’s a kind of patronage writ large, where loyalty is key. In many ways, it’s a throwback to an anachronistic party machine system, where a focus on merit defined, say, by education was viewed as a direct threat. Corruption is far less of a problem than failure to deliver for the constituencies for which you’re supposed to take care.

Trump’s promise to think of “America First,” doesn’t work as a historical callback to the isolationist movement of the 1930s. It does, however, feed into xenophobia about the world beyond national borders as well as racism at home. Foreigners abroad—and Black and Brown people at home—don’t deserve the opportunities they’ve claimed, which are seen to be at the direct expense of white people, Trump’s people, who have been left behind. Anti-immigrant, anti-Muslim, and anti-Black rhetoric is seen as committing to taking care of real Americans instead. These voters don’t evaluate economic protectionism, isolationism, and buying American as policies, but by their intent—taking care of real Americans first.

On Muravchik and Shields’s account, the continued erosion of coal mining and tobacco farming in Elliot County, Kentucky, provides a particularly clear illustration. It’s not that the jobs as farmers and miners were particularly good, but rather, that nothing as good has come to replace them. Beleaguered by changing norms, distant threats (health or climate change), and new regulations, options for a good life keep disappearing. The community is reluctant to believe promises of new jobs or a “Green New Deal” from politicians who seem to serve very different constituencies first. Viewed in this way, the revanchist rejection of Democratic Party promises is comprehensible, and support for Trump is what remains. We’re left with the authors’ dilemma: Can the Democratic Party regain their support? Is it worth trying?

Taken together, these books will help with revising lecture notes for our introductory courses. They may also help in figuring out a more advanced American politics as well.