False advertising: What's inside Trump's bottle of snake oil?

It shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise that we Americans often tend to ignore the facts.

We don’t, as a whole, make decisions based on facts.

We make decisions based on labels.

We’ve been conditioned to do so by our consumer culture, which triggers us to buy based on corporate names rather than the quality of the product behind those names.

Case in point: McDonald’s sells more burgers than anyone else, but they don’t have the best — or even the cheapest — burgers. Not by a long shot. Back in the day, McDonald’s started out, they sold a 15-cent burger, but so did a lot of other fast-food places you’ve never heard of because they’ve long since gone out of business.

McDonald’s secret wasn’t quality or even price. It was labeling and marketing. McDonald’s had a famous clown, who was more recognizable than other fast-food mascots. Its “golden arches” signs were more distinctive than other signs on the side of the road. Plus, they boasted that “over X million” of the burgers had been served.

They must be good if that many people were buying them.

Labeling something as “new and improved” makes older versions of the same product seem obsolete. Advertising a “sale” or “discount” makes us think we’re getting something for less than it’s worth — even if the price went up before it went down again. Or profit margins are high. Or other outlets are offering the same product at a lower price.

We’ve been conditioned by out consumer culture to believe lies and half-truths, relying on simple labels without reading the fine print. Who has the time (or patience) for that?

If we’re so prone to manipulation when it comes to parting with our money, why should we be any less vulnerable when it comes to our politics?

The answer is, we aren’t.

If anything, we’re more susceptible to a con, because politics doesn’t affect us as directly or personally as the amount of money we have in our pocket.

Political labels

As with corporate marketing, the trick is to imprint an image or label on the public’s mind. Once it’s there, it’s very difficult to dislodge. The facts be damned. I’ll give you a few examples:

Republicans have succeeded in casting themselves as the party of fiscal responsibility. But they add more to the budget deficits, as a percent of GDP, when the control the White House than Democrats do.

Republicans continue to be seen as a pro-military party, even now that they’re led by a successful draft-evader who berates Gold Star parents and former POWs, and who cozies up to traditional U.S. adversaries.

Much of the GOP’s reputation as “hawkish” stems from its historic opposition to Russian expansion and willingness to engage in an arms race to keep it in check. Under current Republican leadership, Russia is not only allowed, but encouraged, to interfere in U.S. elections, and is given a free pass when it comes to putting bounties on the head of American soldiers.

Most starkly (and absurdly), Donald Trump continues to be seen as better equipped to deal with the economy than Joe Biden. This is despite the fact that Trump is presiding over the worst economy in decades, while Biden was part of a team that oversaw a prolonged and steady period of growth.

The confidence in Trump has remained steady — and not just among his base — even though Trump has filed for bankruptcy six times and has overseen a host of failed business ventures.

Why?

Because Trump has succeeded in portraying himself as a “businessman,” and in reinforcing that image by “firing” people on a reality TV show. He must know what he’s doing, right?

The six bankruptcies and failed businesses are ignored. So is the distinction between a successful businessman and a bad one.

Snake oil

Our addiction to labels, and our willingness to accept them as authorities rather than thinking for ourselves, has brought us to the brink of exchanging our democracy for an authoritarian form of government.

(Notice that “authorities” and “authoritarian” stem from the same root word.)

Trump may be an incompetent businessman, but he’s good at one thing: Getting people to buy a label without providing any substance. McDonald’s may not sell the best burgers, but at least you get a piece of meat between a couple of buns. Trump sells his name. Period. Then he refuses to take responsibility when the product he’s peddling fails to live up to his promises.

He plays on the consumer’s (and his voters’) desire to get something for nothing by doing the opposite: offering nothing for something.

And they buy it.

“Style over substance” is one of 12 principles Trump has used to con America. Learn about the others in Political Psychosis: How Trump Took America Hostage, and How to Take Our Power Back.

Trump’s presidency has reinforced our natural tendency to rely heavily on labels and “not ask too many questions.” He’s the consummate snake-oil salesman, taking us back to the late 19th century, when “miracle cures” filled with do-nothing contents made millions of dollars.

They were neither miracles nor cures, just as Trump’s assertions that COVID-19 will just “go away” is neither. It’s a cop out by a man whose only talent is to con people into believing him.

The government passed regulations to protect the public from snake-oil salesmen, shutting down the bogus tonics and elixirs that separated desperate people from their money. Trump — naturally — opposes that kind of regulation. He sees desperation as an opportunity to take advantage of people, and regulation as an obstacle.

Taking advantage of people is what he does. Until we commit to looking past the labels and demand to know what’s inside that bottle of so-called elixir, he’ll just keep right on doing it