By Mary Jones and Ben Emos | Friday, August 9, 2024 | 7 min read
In the world of political theater, few things have the power to unnerve a leader more than the sight of a rival’s growing popularity. For former President Donald Trump, whose political brand has always been deeply intertwined with the adulation of large crowds, the recent surge in enthusiasm for Vice President Kamala Harris appears to be hitting a particularly raw nerve.
From the moment he descended that golden escalator in 2015, Trump has thrived on the energy of his supporters. His rallies, often raucous and overflowing with fervent followers, became a defining feature of his political identity. They were the fuel that powered his rise to the presidency and, in his view, a symbol of his dominance in the political arena.
So it’s little wonder that Trump has reportedly been rattled by the growing crowds flocking to see Vice President Harris. The former president, who once prided himself on drawing massive audiences, now finds himself confronted with the reality that Harris, a figure who represents much of what he stands against, is commanding significant attention and enthusiasm across the country.
For Trump, whose ego is famously sensitive to slights both real and perceived, the sight of Harris drawing large, diverse crowds is not just a political challenge—it’s a personal affront. In Trump’s world, crowd size is not merely a metric of popularity; it is a measure of legitimacy, of power, and of worth. The notion that someone else, especially someone who embodies a different vision for America, could attract larger or more passionate crowds is deeply unsettling to him.
It’s as though the very foundation of Trump’s political identity is being threatened. After all, this is a man who famously exaggerated the size of his inauguration crowd, who took to social media to boast about the turnout at his rallies, and who has repeatedly equated crowd size with success. Now, seeing Harris step into the spotlight with crowds that rival, and in some cases surpass, his own is enough to send Trump into a tailspin.
When Trump walked onto the stage at his rally in Atlanta on Saturday, fog machines shot white plumes of smoke into the air, heralding his arrival with the usual theatrical flair. But if you looked closely, you could almost imagine steam pouring out of his ears as well. All week long, something had been giving him the vapors.
“Crazy Kamala,” he fumed barely a minute into his speech. “She was here a week ago — lots of empty seats — but the crowd she got was because she had entertainers.”
Trump’s frustration was palpable. Just four days earlier, Vice President Kamala Harris had drawn about the same number of people—10,000—into the Georgia State University Convocation Center for her first major rally since announcing her campaign. But what really seemed to stick in Trump’s craw was the fact that Harris had enlisted two popular rappers, Quavo and Megan Thee Stallion, to fire up the crowd.
The contrast between the two events couldn’t have been more striking. While Trump’s rally leaned heavily on the nostalgic appeal of his previous campaigns, Harris’s event felt vibrant and fresh, packed with youthful energy and a diverse audience. And despite Trump’s claims of “empty seats,” the reality was that Harris had packed the house, with standing room only for latecomers.
It wasn’t just about the numbers, though; it was about the narrative. Trump, who has long prided himself on his ability to draw massive crowds, seemed unnerved by Harris’s rising star and her ability to galvanize support. Her rally wasn’t just a political event—it was a cultural moment, blending politics and entertainment in a way that resonated with a new generation of voters.
For Trump, the thought of Harris matching his crowd sizes, especially in a state like Georgia, was enough to set him off. The former president has always seen crowd size as a barometer of his popularity, a measure of his dominance in the political arena. So, to see Harris not only draw a comparable crowd but also inject her rally with the kind of star power that appeals to younger voters was a bitter pill to swallow.
Mr. Trump, who has long been shunned by much of the entertainment industry, tried to spin the presence of celebrities at Vice President Kamala Harris’s rally as an unfair advantage in the all-important competition over crowd size.
“I don’t need entertainers,” he declared on Saturday. “I fill the stadium because I’m making America great again.”
For Trump, the numbers game has always been of paramount importance. As a former reality television star, he was famously obsessed with ratings, once pondering in one of his books, “What is it about me that gets Larry King his highest ratings?” This fixation only intensified when he entered politics. On his first full day in office as president, Trump was preoccupied with convincing the media that his inauguration crowd was larger than that of the Women’s March and that of President Obama’s inauguration, despite clear evidence to the contrary.
As Trump continued his speech, his focus on Harris became more pronounced. His jabs at her weren’t just about her policies—they were about her ability to connect with people, to draw energy from the very crowds he once commanded so effortlessly. It was clear that Harris’s presence in Georgia had gotten under his skin, and his attempts to downplay her rally only underscored how much it bothered him.
The comparison to a “mad king” is not just hyperbole. Like a monarch whose grip on power is slipping, Trump appears increasingly agitated and erratic in his public statements and actions. His recent outbursts, filled with baseless claims and frantic attacks on his political adversaries, suggest a man who is struggling to come to terms with a new reality—one where he is no longer the undisputed center of attention.
This shift has not gone unnoticed by those around him. Reports from within Trump’s inner circle suggest that the former president has become fixated on the size of Harris’s crowds, obsessing over every rally, every photo, every headline that highlights her growing appeal. It’s a fixation that is both revealing and, for Trump, deeply troubling. He has been privately voicing concerns about the performance of his team, questioning their strategies and decisions. Whether it’s campaign messaging, public relations, or handling the media, Trump is said to be growing increasingly discontented with the people he has entrusted to help navigate the complex and often treacherous world of post-presidential politics.
The rise of Harris as a political force is indicative of a broader change in the American political landscape. As the first woman, first Black, and first South Asian Vice President, Harris represents a new generation of leadership—one that is more inclusive, more diverse, and more reflective of the nation’s changing demographics.
For Trump, who built his brand on division and exclusion, this shift is nothing short of a nightmare. The crowds that Harris draws are not just a threat to his political ambitions; they are a symbol of the very change he has spent years trying to resist.
In the end, what’s rattling Trump is not just the size of Harris’s crowds, but what they represent—a future that may no longer have room for the kind of politics he champions. As Harris continues to rise, Trump’s frustration is likely to grow, manifesting in increasingly erratic behavior and desperate attempts to reclaim the spotlight.
Like a king watching his kingdom crumble, Trump is now faced with a harsh new reality—one where the crowds may no longer chant his name. For a man who has always equated his worth with the size of his audience, that is devastating.
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