Orrin Jones

“In 2024, we’re not just choosing a president. We’re deciding what kind of politics we want…”

Picture this: two presidential candidates fighting for the world’s most powerful position agree to debate. The point? To showcase their policies on immigration, the economy, healthcare — you know, the stuff that matters. 

You’d expect an intense showdown packed with substance, and maybe a step up from the last debate circus between Trump and Biden. We’ve got Kamala Harris, a sharp, younger and far more traditional candidate taking Biden’s place. Then you have Donald Trump — a tough, out-of-pocket and the polar opposite of any president we have seen this century. But just as quickly as the stakes are set, expectations vanish. 

Suddenly, we’re in a bizarre argument about immigrants eating pets in Ohio, bragging about owning a gun and, my personal favorite, executing babies after they’re born. Yes, this is what politics has come to in 2024: a mix of surreal entertainment and governance where it’s increasingly hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. And having been in D.C. for three weeks, I’ve had a front-row seat to the madness. It’s hilarious, frustrating and mind-boggling.

I have the honor of being a part of the Wake Washington program, living with 11 other incredibly intelligent and politically diverse people. Everyone’s job circulates politics, making 

our conversations about our work climate. We watched the debate together, and I can confidently say: there were way more laughs than there needed to be. We even had a bingo card of all the possible outcomes of this debate: Trump questioning Harris’ race, Harris laughing, a mention of the “coconut tree” joke, talking over each other — the list goes on. 

This debate isn’t the only time where we felt like politics is no longer serious; it’s as if politics are taking inspiration from SNL skits rather than the other way around. I work on Capitol Hill, so a large chunk of my day is full of political talk. Although the election is surprisingly not the hottest topic spoken about, a common ground that both Democrats and Republicans have expressed is how this election is a laughing stock.  How did we get to this point? Who are the characters that play a role in this, and how do they contribute?

Let’s talk about Trump. The man doesn’t just do politics, he performs it. The real secret to Trump’s success? His ability to turn political rallies, interviews and even debates into must-watch television. He’s still the same brash, unpredictable figure who made reality TV gold, and he brings that same energy to the political stage. In this debate, he leaned into his populist persona with all the flair of a seasoned entertainer. One moment, he’s railing against “political correctness” and liberal elites, and the next, he’s making absurd claims about — yes — immigrants eating cats in Ohio. 

What makes Trump’s performance fascinating is that it works for his base. They don’t see his wild tangents and fiery rhetoric as gaffes — they see them as part of his charm, proof that he’s the only one willing to say what’s really on their minds. He’s the anti-politician, the guy who’s going to take on the “swamp” and restore America to its former glory. It’s a vision rooted in nostalgia, in a time when Am erican identity felt more straightforward — at least for some.

For all his detractors who find him chaotic and divisive, his supporters view him as a folk hero, fighting against the forces they believe are tearing the country apart. To them, the mix of entertainment and politics isn’t a bug — it’s a feature they try to mimic. Political activist David Bossie’s talk to our Wake Washington cohort highlighted the blurred line between entertainment and politics in the Trump era. He proudly discussed creating “pro-Trump documentaries,” a form of political messaging designed more for entertainment and rallying the base than balanced discourse. 

His recounting of Trump’s political strategy — “never answer the questions he’s asked, that’s how he crushes them” — emphasized how entertainment tactics, like deflection and spectacle, became central to Trump’s political success. The jaw-dropping moments, like Bossie’s infamous comment to a Black Fox News reporter, show just how much shock value, rather than policy, defined their approach.

Trump has turned politics into a form of entertainment, where policies take a backseat to personality and spectacle. His debates feel less like forums for discussing ideas and more like performances designed to keep people talking. It’s politics as reality TV, where the goal isn’t to persuade with facts but to keep the audience engaged — no matter how wild the content gets. 

Harris, meanwhile, represents the polar opposite. She’s here to discuss the actual issues, to move the country forward. Her vision is one of progress, inclusivity and justice. But in a world where politics has become so intertwined with entertainment, can someone like Harris cut through the noise? Can substance win out over spectacle?

Harris skillfully balances between politics and entertainment, using humor and personal anecdotes to connect with the public while maintaining her role as a serious politician. Her “coconut tree” joke at a Florida fundraiser, symbolizing resilience, is one example where she entertained audiences while conveying a political message. 

Despite these entertaining moments, Harris remains rooted in traditional politics. She rose through the ranks as a prosecutor, the attorney general of California and a U.S. senator, emphasizing law and order. As vice president, she engages in standard diplomatic duties and bipartisan efforts, balancing media-savvy moments with serious policy work. Harris’ ability to entertain while staying grounded in institutional politics reflects the evolving nature of modern leadership — where a politician needs both relatability and credibility to thrive. But it’s a fair question to ask oneself: is that enough? 

We saw Hillary Clinton win the popular vote through a traditional campaign, but Trump ultimately won. He was more memorable because of how outlandish he was. Harris has her endorsements from celebrities like Taylor Swift, but she has not relied on media spectacle or entertainment tactics. She has focused on governance, engagement in the standard duties of her office and her strong legal background. What makes her stand out is that she has the ability to balance personal narrative with serious policy positions, which ultimately connects her with a range of voters. 

This race isn’t just a battle between two candidates. It was a sample of the larger struggle happening in America right now: do we want our politics to be serious, issue-driven and focused on the future? Or do we want it to be entertaining, loud and full of chaos? For all of us working in D.C., watching this unfold was equal parts hilarious and infuriating. Sure, Trump’s antics are good for a laugh, but there’s something deeply unsettling about watching the highest office in the land turned into a sideshow. 

At the same time, Harris’s steadiness offers hope for a future where politics returns to being about policy and progress rather than personality and theatrics. So, what kind of country do we want to be? Are we here for the show or the solutions? This isn’t just a question for voters — it’s a question for the very soul of American democracy. In 2024, we’re not just choosing a president. We’re deciding what kind of politics we want — and whether we want it to be entertainment or something far more important.