Since then, Californian progressive sociologist Hochschild has been struggling to understand the appeal of Donald Trump: particularly to white, working-class men, once a strong Democratic constituency. No writer has worked harder to grasp the gut-level appeal that saw Trump win two elections – and in the process, convert the Republican Party into his personal fiefdom.
Review: Stolen Pride: Loss, Shame and the Rise of the Right – Arlie Russell Hochschild (The New Press)
The puzzle is greatest when one contrasts the current billionaire cabinet with the fact much of Trump’s support comes from people who are objectively worse off under his policies – including tariffs. Last week, Oxfam America called them “an attack on the global working class” that will harm working-class families in the United States and “inflame inequality”.
In Strangers in their own Land, Hochschild called this “the Great Paradox”. Stolen Pride returns to many of that book’s questions, but in a different era – and a US that seems more fragmented, and far angrier than it was in 2016.
Hochschild explores the world of Pikeville, Kentucky, a poor, overwhelmingly white, Trump-supporting city in the heart of Appalachia: in the “whitest and second-poorest congressional district in the country, a region that had rapidly shifted from the Democratic Party to the Republican Party”.
The American dream’s broken promise
One of Hochschild’s subjects is James Browning, a recovering drug user whose hands are tattooed and covered in rings. “There you have it” he says, “I have a shame hand and a pride hand.” This sums up the basic argument of Stolen Pride.
“Pride and shame,” she writes, “signal the juncture between the identity we hold out to the world, and how the world responds to our identity.” The men she speaks to desperately need a sense of pride, but too often find their failures are the cause of deep shame. The American Dream, after all, teaches them every individual can make it, inherently implying failure is due to individual weakness.
Many of the men she speaks to have experienced unemployment, domestic breakups, jail, alcoholism and drug abuse. (She even manages to speak to one current jail inmate.) Kentucky has one of the highest rates of opioid addiction in the United States – and despite Trump’s attacks on Mexico and Canada, the doctor-prescribed drugs some were addicted to appear to be domestically manufactured.
So many of the men Hochschild interviewed talk of the balance between shame and pride, I began to wonder if they were prompted. On reflection, I suspect this represents Hochschild’s careful selection from a series of very extensive interviews, conducted over roughly six years.
Her emphasis is almost entirely on the men in Pikeville, though a majority of white women also voted for Trump. I would love to see Hochschild explore this further. That so many women can support a convicted sexual predator in a country obsessed with sexual behaviour is one of the mysteries of contemporary American politics.
By 2021, many Americans – and most Republicans – believed Trump’s claims that he had really won the 2020 election. They saw the rioters at the Capitol on January 6 as heroes defending American democracy. In Trump’s claim the election was stolen, many of those Hochschild interviews saw parallels to what they believed had been stolen from them, by economic and cultural upheavals.
Importantly, many of her respondents saw Trump as a bully — but a bully who stood up for them, against what they perceived as urban liberal elites. When Hillary Clinton spoke of his supporters as “a basket of deplorables”, she reinforced the grievances of people consistently looked down on as “hillbillies” and “rednecks” by people they identified as Democratic elites.
How ‘deep stories’ inform politics
For Hochschild, there are underlying emotional narratives, which she calls “deep stories”, that inform our political positions.
In Strangers in their Own Land, these were identified as a sense of being overtaken by groups, usually educated women and Black people, who benefited from programs of affirmative action. The second Trump administration’s crusade against “DEI” is playing directly to these grievances. In Stolen Pride, this feeling is strengthened by the sense liberal elites are undermining both traditional values and the ability for individuals to succeed.
Eastern Kentucky is coal country, and Clinton’s ill-worded election-trail claim she would “put a lot of coal miners and coal companies out of business” was a major factor in swinging voters towards Trump. For men who took pride in their work, the collapse of the coal industry produced a sense of shame: strengthened by a strong belief individuals are to blame for their own misfortunes.
Pikeville was also the site of a neo-Nazi march in April 2017, the forerunner of the tragic Unite the Right march in Charlottesville later that year, which resulted in one death and multiple injuries.
Much of the book skilfully explores the preparations for and reactions to the Pikeville march, which seemingly passed without incident. Some 100 white nationalists turned up and were outnumbered by counter protesters, As Hochschild writes, “Very few Pikeville locals were involved on either side”.
Perhaps the most fascinating figure in Hochschild’s book, and evidence of her skill in persuading the most unlikely people to open up in interviews, is Matthew Heimbach, who led the 2017 Pikesville march, identified as a proud Nazi and co-founded the now-defunct neo-Nazi party, Traditionalist Worker Party.
He also co-planned the Charlottesville march, where he railed against “white genocide” and was sued (with other members of the TWP) for his role in it on behalf of Charlottesville victims. He was found guilty on charges of civil conspiracy in 2021.
“Some years later”, he reveals some of his core beliefs are shaken, especially his attitude toward Black Americans, whom he recognises as often sharing the same sense of dispossession that had fuelled his own anger. “I love Russia and I love Putin,” he told Hochschild, “so I looked into moving there.” As Hochschild remarks: “It seemed that Adolf Hitler was to be replaced in his pantheon by Vladimir Putin.”
Transcending the gulf?
Pikesville is also the home of America’s most famous family feud, between the Hatfields and the McCoys. The feud, which lasted many decades from the late 19th century, “began as a dispute over a stolen pig” and “ended as the longest and fiercest clan fight in the nation”. It has been the basis for a dozen movies, virtually all unmemorable. In 2017, a member of the reconciled clans said if they could settle their differences, “there has to be a way for Americans to get back together as one”.
In the last section of the book, Hochschild looks for ways to transcend the apparent gulf that separates blue and red America. Reading the book after Trump’s return to power, this felt sadly inadequate. Yes, as she points out, most voters are more moderate than the politicians on either side. Sadly, this is not sufficient protection against the rise of the authoritarian plutocracy that now seems to have a firm grip on Washington.
Hochschild wrote this book during the Biden administration and the lead-up to the 2024 elections. I assume she finished it before Trump named Vance as his vice president: a man who first came to prominence with his own account of Appalachian pride and shame. Hochschild doesn’t discuss his Hillbilly Elegy, though it is listed in her references.
Hochschild brilliantly captures the pain of men who feel left behind and conveys something of life in rural Kentucky that goes beyond easy stereotypes. I could feel empathy for many of the people she comes across. But I was unpersuaded there is much room for optimism that the appeal of Trump, and those who follow him, will easily be defeated.
Dennis Altman, Vice Chancellor's Fellow and Professorial Fellow, Institute for Human Security and Social Change, La Trobe University
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.