The tactics at 'Trump-a-palooza' reveal risks for Republicans

The first thing I saw when I walked into "Trump-a-palooza" was Joe Biden.

The stadium screens were projecting his headshot, his eyes shooting red laser beams like a killer robot.

The use of the old meme came to represent two things about this week's Republican convention in Texas.

The first thing: even more than the event was about Trump, it was about Democrats.

On day one, at least, Biden and Kamala Harris kept flashing up on the screens as though we'd time-travelled to 2024.

And the second thing: the Republican messaging hasn't shifted a whole lot since Biden and Harris were in office.

This event featured the same scares as the 2024 convention: transgender athletes want to take over your daughters' sports leagues. Pro-vaccine doctors want to steal your power to decide what's best for your kids. Criminal illegal aliens might murder you during the night.

The most notable change to the talking points was how the adjectives had been amplified.

The "radical left lunatics" are now "crazy communists". Democrats are pursuing a "Bolshevik revolution" and want to "remake America in the image of every socialist hellscape of the last century".

Arguably, Trump's mistruths, as they are sometimes politely described, have been notched up too.

Separating real facts from "alternative facts" can get tricky when Trump speaks, but not always. There is something surreal about watching a speaker deliver a lengthy insistence that a venue is full while there are hundreds of unfilled seats around you.

"The highest rafter, no empty seats," Trump said, while actually pointing to entire sections of empty seats in the stadium's highest rafter.

Three topics proved taboo, except when Trump spoke

The headline from Trump's keynote address was an offer of free cash — a "Trump dividend", rather than a bribe, payable if voters vote the right way.

But his lengthy speech otherwise contained a lot of recycled material.

He told a familiar story about where "tariffs" fits on his list of favourite words. He recited a well-worn tale about being bullied by reporters over the price of eggs. And he reminded the crowd, no fewer than half a dozen times, that Iran must not have nuclear weapon.

Anyone who had listened to enough Trump rallies had heard it all before.

But it was notable that Trump chose to spend so much time on these three issues. Tariffs, affordability and Iran had largely been absent from the previous speeches.

They all rate highly among the list of factors contributing to Trump's poor approval rating, so other speakers largely steered clear of them.

One of Trump's most politically interesting choices was to speak dismissively about cost-of-living issues, and re-prosecute his old argument that the "affordability crisis" is "fake", but, in any case, he has solved it.

"Food prices and almost every other item are rapidly going down," he said.

"And by the way, oil will be going down as soon as we win the war with Iran, which is taking place right now."

Polls consistently show voters are not buying this message. In one recent poll, 69 per cent of respondents disapproved of Trump's handling of inflation and living costs, while just 17 per cent approved.

A telling conversation in a Texas park

So what was the point of the midterms convention spectacle?

What's the president's strategy when he insists that the affordability crisis is not a thing?

Why tell Americans, who keep complaining to pollsters they are struggling with rising prices, that "tariffs" remains a favourite word?

And for that matter, why speak at such length about the stadium being full? All that was ever guaranteed to do was spawn viral videos showing rows of empty seats and a man on stage insisting a lie is a truth.

The MAGA diehards in the arena were hyped. But away from it all, is there any chance that a parade-of-speeches event like this can move the midterms needle?

One of the most interesting people I met in Dallas was a Trump supporter who did not attend the convention. He was a long-time local named Daniel, who I chatted with in a city park.

"Personally, I love Trump," Daniel said. "He's the best president we've ever had. He's brought our economy back up. That's about all I've got to say about the good guy."

But when I asked if there was anything he didn't like, it turned out he did have more to say.

"He's so hard on a lot of the good, good Spanish [speaking] people in Texas,"

he said.

"A lot of them don't have papers, but they're part of Texas now."

Daniel revealed himself as one of those Trump voters who felt his mass deportation campaign had gone too far. His views were a long way from the narrative about "criminal illegal aliens" being pushed at the convention.

"It kind of brings a tear to my eye," Daniel continued.

"I can understand him doing his job and deporting the bad ones, but a lot of them are here just to provide for their family, you know. It really hurts."

Risks for Republicans

On issues ranging from immigration and Iran, and especially when it comes to living costs, some Trump supporters are seeing problems with their president.

The party is aware of this risk, and how Trump's "pretend I'm on the ballot" strategy could backfire in the midterms.

Vice-President JD Vance pleaded with those voters in his keynote address.

"Do not throw the baby out with the bathwater," he said. "Don't give the country over to a bunch of crazy people because you happen to disagree with us on a policy here or there."

While the party's messaging may not have changed a lot since 2024, circumstances have.

Trump's approval rating is at dire lows. But he has deliberately tied his party's fortunes to his own popularity, and he demonstrated his campaign strategy is not shifting.

The Republicans face a real risk of losing control of Congress in November's midterm elections.

Away from the stadium, those Americans who actually paid attention to "Trump-a-palooza" will likely be left wondering if it can improve the party's prospects at all.