Kristoffer Ealy is a political scientist, political analyst, and professor in Southern California. He teaches American Government and political behavior, with a focus on political psychology, voting behavior, and political socialization. Subscribe to his Substack, The Thinking Class with Professor Ealy.
There is a comforting, albeit deeply naive, sentiment I hear constantly from critics of Donald Trump. It usually arrives wrapped in a weary shrug: “Yeah, he’s awful, but at least now we know who the racists are. At least now we know who the sexists are. The mask is off; people are finally showing us who they really are.”
I have never cosigned that thesis, and I never will. I do not view the individuals who previously suppressed their most noxious impulses as secretly “fake” back when they behaved themselves. What they were practicing is a foundational socio-behavioral mechanism known as decorum.
Etymologically derived from the Latin decorus—meaning fitting, suitable, or proper—decorum is not mere politeness, nor is it political correctness or state-enforced censorship. It is the unwritten social contract operating in its highest functional state. A civilized society relies entirely on shared normative boundaries that dictate what behaviors are appropriate for specific institutional roles. When an individual breaches those boundaries, the system self-corrects by imposing immediate, tangible reputational and social costs. Racists should feel intensely uncomfortable voicing racism in public. Bigots should not strut around celebrating their prejudice. And unmitigated dumbasses should certainly not feel entitled to parade their intellectual bankruptcy across national television as if it were a civic virtue.
The “at least we know who they are” coalition operates on the flawed assumption that the ugly elements of our culture were merely latent, waiting for a populist savior to pull back the curtain. The empirical research tells a far more alarming story. In a landmark study on normative shifts, economists Leonardo Bursztyn, Georgy Egorov, and Stefano Fiorin demonstrated that as Trump’s political capital rose, individuals became dramatically more willing to publicly express xenophobic views they had previously kept carefully concealed.
Economist Timur Kuran would recognize this as preference falsification running in reverse. Under normal conditions, individuals hide antisocial views to avoid societal sanctions. But when a high-profile figure systematically dismantles those sanctions, the hidden views don’t just surface—they aggregate and compound. Observers witness the lack of punishment and correctly infer that the social penalty has been revoked. Nothing was “revealed.” A vital structural norm was shattered, and the contagion spread.
Which brings us directly to Senator Eric Schmitt of Missouri.
A seat in the United States Senate remains one of the most prestigious legislative positions on Earth—an office designed to demand institutional gravity regardless of party affiliation. Schmitt, however, has transformed his tenure into a case study in self-inflicted debasement. He is, to put it plainly, acting like a complete idiot. What renders his performance so uniquely tragic is that it was entirely optional. Unforced. An active, conscious career choice executed on live television before a national audience.
