If it hadn't been reported that convention speeches fall under the purview of Trump campaign chairman Paul Manafort, I'd have suspected Trump's three eldest children—the fruit of his marriage to Ivana, all of whom have a significant role in their father's campaign—of intentionally doing step-mom Melania in. Fun as that thought is, the truth of course has more to do with garden variety incompetence in a gonzo campaign. It does heighten the moment that the counterfeit passages have to do with hard work and integrity, doesn't it?
Still. Rather than being outraged over this particular incident, I'm sympathetic to Nate Silver's observation:
It's the perfect Trump controversy. The future of the country is at stake and people are talking about it like some reality TV shitshow.
— Nate Silver (@NateSilver538) July 19, 2016
Melania's offense, that her speechwriter (nice working with you!) stole some passages from Michelle Obama's speechwriter, belongs in the register of grave crimes against the customs of pseudo-events. Modern national conventions, as perfect a form of pseudo-event as you could ask for, involve a series of people reading words written for them by someone else. If the speaker gives a good performance, bleats authoritatively according to the dictates of the teleprompter, really puts some life into it, the members of the press dutifully advise the nation to approve, and to consider handing the speaker or his candidate the nuclear codes. If he flubs it, no matter his other qualities and qualifications beyond being a TV performer, the press mocks him and invites the nation to join in. I'm not innocent of this.*
All of this is considered perfectly normal, and it is all governed by very strict rules, enforced by, of course, the media. Reading someone else's words while presenting yourself as a serious, intelligent, capable person is totally acceptable, but not if that someone else stole them in the first place. Party foul!
On some level, Americans are aware of how ridiculous this aspect of our public life is. Part of Trump's appeal to his supporters is the sense that he doesn't give a damn about the rules enforced by the press for what can and cannot be said and what can and cannot be done. He has in the past offered a dim view of politicians who merely read their speeches. The press has covered his refusal to play according to their customs with glee, and commentators have praised him when, as at AIPAC or on a few other occasions, he has read his words from the script like a good trained seal. On Thursday, we in the media will be watching to see whether he will dutifully read a speech written by someone else, or not. It is a Big Test.
This is the real crime. If Trump passes the test, many in the press will approve, will advise America that he did a good job, and that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to give him the codes to the nukes, because he's pivoting. But of course the real Trump is the unscripted Trump, who has time and again displayed levels of ignorance and dishonesty that render him unfit for high office. Reading a few speeches from a teleprompter changes none of this—but if Trump does a good job on Thursday, we won't be talking, at least for a news cycle, about his obvious unfitness for office, but will be engaging in the collective fantasy that playing one's role at these televised pseudo-events somehow ought to be the key qualification to lead the greatest republic in history.
None of this really excuses Melania's speechwriter's plagiarism, which is ridiculous. But this is all ridiculous, and says nothing good about the health of our democracy.
*But seriously, Mike Flynn.