Jonah Goldberg:
This Monday we will see Hillary Clinton battle Donald Trump in their first presidential debate.
It’s difficult to capture the otherworldliness of it all. Most of the commentary centers around Trump — and for good reason. He’s the X factor. Some see him as a brilliant, media-savvy disruptor, shaking the foundation of the political establishment. Others see him as a Rodney Dangerfield-esque character (with a touch of Peter Sellers’s Chauncey Gardner) who managed to bluff his way onto the national stage, demanding respect. And that barely scratches the surface. Between friends and foes the descriptions get more ridiculous by the hour. He’s Cincinnatus, he’s Hitler, he’s Reagan, he’s “orange Muppet Hitler” (in the words of some celebrities), he’s George Washington, he’s some other kind of Hitler. And so on.
But it’s worth remembering that Clinton, in her own excruciatingly dull, grating, and pedantic way, has long been a larger-than-life figure, too. It may not seem like it given that she often sounds like a luncheon speaker at a conference of insurance-+industry actuaries. But if you were a student of the lady, you’d know that the flinty demeanor is widely believed to be a tightly managed veneer, hiding a thoroughly ideological, somewhat paranoid, and testy woman.
One needn’t credit all of the wild rumors and allegations about lamp throwing, hurled expletives, and petty revenge-seeking to still believe that there’s more to Clinton than the relentless stream of clichés and platitudes that she spouts with metronomic monotony.
She clearly has the ability to elicit loyalty from very powerful people (and to bequeath power to very loyal people) without having to make them sign nondisclosure agreements the way her opponent does. That alone suggests there’s something more to her than meets the eye. Her supporters, in fact, insist that’s the case: that the real Hillary is like a verdant oasis of wit and charm hidden in the vast desert of her public persona. To borrow a phrase from The Who, the Hillary we see is an eminence front, a put-on.
Intriguingly, this is almost the mirror version of what many of Trump’s biggest fans say about him, except they claim that the bluster and bullying, the stunted, ill-fitted vocabulary and seemingly bone-dry reservoir of policy expertise is what you might call an everyman front.
He may talk like a Joe Sixpack working one of his constructions sites, but underneath — allegedly — is one of the most clever and shrewd businessmen ever to walk the earth, playing chess ten moves ahead.
The political consultants no doubt have a long to-do list for each of them. Clinton has almost certainly committed to memory a whole catalog of necessary micro-panders to specific constituencies and demographics (left-handed 19-year-old Asian-American diabetic English majors attending community college, etc.). And it seems a sure bet that Trump campaign manager Kellyanne Conway has endeavored to impress upon her candidate the importance of being on his best behavior.