Is Donald Trump well enough to serve as president?
The question is not temperamental or philosophical fitness—he’s made clear long ago that the answer to both is no—but something more fundamental.
The election is in three weeks and Pennsylvania is a must-win state for both candidates, but during a rally in Montgomery County, northwest of Philadelphia, last night, Trump got bored with the event, billed as a town hall, and just played music for almost 40 minutes, scowling, smirking, and swaying onstage. Trump is no stranger to surreal moments, yet this was still one of the oddest of his political career.
“You’re the one who fights for them,” gushed Kristi Noem, the South Dakota governor and animal-abuse enthusiast, who was supposed to be moderating the event. But it soon became clear that Trump wasn’t in a fighting mode. The event began normally enough, at least by Trump standards, but, after two interruptions for apparent medical emergencies in the audience, Trump lost interest. “Let’s just listen to music. Who the hell wants to hear questions?” he said.
[David A. Graham: Has anyone noticed that Trump is really old?]
He eventually pivoted for good to a playlist of his favorite songs: “Hallelujah,” “Rich Men North of Richmond,” “Nothing Compares 2 U,” Elvis’s rendition of “Dixie.” At one point, he asked his staff to play Pavarotti and display the immigration chart that he was about to discuss when an assassin tried to kill him this summer.
To watch the event is to see signs of someone having a breakdown. Like Joe Biden’s disastrous debate against Trump in June, when the president’s fumbling performance and struggle to get sentences out made it impossible to believe he was up to the task of serving for four years, Trump’s rally last night would force any reasonable person to conclude that he is not up to the grueling task of leading the world’s greatest nation, handling economic crises, or dealing with foreign adversaries.
Which isn’t to say that some people didn’t try to reason through it. Reporters still seem unsure how to deal with Trump’s stranger behaviors. Journalists are trained to take information and make sense of it, even amid chaos. The problem is that doing so conjures logic where none exists.
Here’s how The New York Times described the night: “Mr. Trump, a political candidate known for improvisational departures, made a detour. Rather than try to restart the political program, he seemed to decide in the moment that it would be more enjoyable for all concerned—and, it appeared, for himself—to just listen to music instead.” ABC News: “Former President Donald Trump's town hall in Oaks, Pennsylvania, on Monday evening was interrupted twice by medical emergencies in a very warm Greater Philadelphia Expo Center and Fairgrounds before he cut the program short.” NBC News: “Former President Donald Trump turned a town hall event in front of supporters in Oaks, Pennsylvania into an impromptu listening party Monday night, playing an unlikely selection of tunes for more than 30 minutes after the event was paused for medical emergencies.” The Associated Press: “Donald Trump’s town hall in the Philadelphia suburbs turned into an impromptu concert Monday after the former president was twice interrupted by medical emergencies in the room.”
Trump’s Democratic opponent, Kamala Harris, was blunter. “Hope he's okay,” she posted on X. Her reaction is self-interested, but she’s right that he really may not be okay. A presidential race is exhausting for even a young and vigorous person, which Trump, 78, is not. He has campaigned far less this time around than he did in his past two runs. In the last few weeks, as the election has neared, he has ramped up his time on the trail, and the wear is showing. His rallies have been so scattershot and rambling that even major outlets that long shied away from questions about Trump’s fitness have had no choice but to address them. In the wee hours of the morning yesterday, he used Truth Social to demand that Harris take a cognitive test. He’s lacing into his own donors at private events. He has been blocked from his usual outlet of playing golf because of security concerns after two assassination attempts.
[David A. Graham: Trump’s West Point stumbles aren’t the problem]
Reporters have noticed Trump’s supporters leaving rallies early in recent weeks, yet many people hung around as Trump bobbed on the stage and said nothing last night. In a way, the moment seemed to distill a 2024 Trump rally down to its essence. No one is there to hear policy ideas. Trump has transgressed so far, for so long, that he can barely shock anymore. Kristi Noem isn’t a big draw. Instead, people come to say they saw Trump. At one point, he announced that he’d play “YMCA” and then the event would end, but attendees stayed, so Trump just kept rolling. The event only wrapped up around the time that an aide brought Trump a note during “November Rain.”
As horrifying as it all was, no one expects to see a reaction like the concerted push for change that followed Biden’s debate collapse. It’s too late in the campaign to change candidates, and it wouldn’t matter anyway. Democrats forced Biden out, even though they like him, because they want to win. But Republican officeholders are terrified of Trump, because rank-and-file Republican voters worship Trump in an entirely different way—something demonstrated by them hanging around for his DJ set and Noem’s obsequious “sir”s all night. “Total lovefest at the PA townhall!” campaign spokesman Steven Cheung posted on X. “Everyone was so excited they were fainting so @realDonaldTrump turned to music. Nobody wanted to leave and wanted to hear more songs from the famous DJT Spotify playlist!” Somewhere, Baghdad Bob was blushing.
But Trump’s musical selections sometimes reveal more than his words or his aides do. During the 2016 campaign, his choice of “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” as exit music seemed like a pointed message to his political adversaries and the nation. Last night, he might have been sending a pointed message to himself, with the help of an Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman hit: “It’s time to say goodbye.”
theatlantic.com