Next week's primaries: what you need to know

The low down on Arizona, Michigan and Washington.

Next week will see primaries in Arizona and Michigan on 28 February and the Washington caucuses on 3 March. The final debate before Super Tuesday on 6 March is tonight in Phoenix, Arizona, making it arguably the most important debate to date.

This week's campaigning may prove to be make-or-break for Mitt Romney. If he wins in Arizona and Michigan, he once again cements himself as the frontrunner in the GOP race. However, should Santorum take them then he will have lost more states than he has won and proven that he cannot connect with the conservative right.

The race remains volatile, with slim margins between Santorum and Romney in Arizona and Michigan. Although Romney is expected to win in Arizona -- laregly due to its significant Mormon population -- his position is precarious and will be undermined should Newt Gingrich's supporters switch their allegiance to Santorum and decide that he is now the only viable conservative alternative to Romney.

Mirroring John McCain in 2008, Romney also seems to have an edge with the Latino population in Arizona. Even if he loses the white vote to Santorum, a big win among the Latinos could still mean that Romney takes the state.

Crucially, Arizona is also a winner takes all state meaning that it gives all of its 29 delegates to the candidate with the most votes, regardless of how close the race is. Since Michigan is seen as more fertile ground for Santorum's message, it is unlikely that he will pour valuable resources into Arizona.

If polling predictions show Romney with a significant lead in Arizona, Santorum may well pull out in order to focus his efforts on Michigan.

Michigan, however, is a different story and may prove to be a turning point in deciding the Republican nomination. Despite the fact that Romney was born in Michigan, his father serving as governor there for six years, and has the endorsement of most Michigan GOP leaders including the governor, the more conservative and blue-collar electorate are likely to favour Santorum.

The Romney camp is spending more than twice as much as Santorum and his allies in Michigan. The Massachusetts governor ensured that he successfully dominated the airwaves in Florida and looks set to do the same in Michigan. He will also be helped by fellow candidate Ron Paul's recent ad attacking Rick Santorum as a faux fiscal conservative.

However, Michigan is an open primary, meaning that any registered voter can participate, making it difficult to predict the outcome. Non-Republicans will make up a third of the electorate and could be the determining factor. Should Democrats decide to vote and shake up the race - as they did in 2000 when they voted for John McCain over George W Bush supporter John Engler - it could be Santorum who leaves Michigan the victor.

Also making Michigan tough to predict is the fact that, like Florida, it is a very divided state. While the northwestern parts are more conservative and therefore more likely to vote for Santorum, the southeastern parts, including Detroit, are wealthier and likely to indentify more with Romney than evangelical Santorum.

A victory for Santorum in the Washington caucuses on 3 March would give the Senator some much needed delegates, although since the voting is after the Arizona and Michigan primaries, the outcome may be influenced by the results there.

With next week's primaries set to be as exciting as Super Tuesday, Michigan could prove to be the most important moment yet in Romney's presidential bid as he struggles to maintain hold over his frontrunner status.

Santorum has won three of the last five states and is showing staying power far beyond his team's finances and organisation. If Romney loses both primaries on 28 February and the Washington caucus, for which polling predictions suggest a close race, it would be his sixth loss in seven contests heading into Super Tuesday - all to Santorum.

With everything to play for, tonight's debate in Arizona could be monumental and there's no doubt that both Santorum and Romney will be hoping for homerun performances in what could be a decisive turning point for both campaigns.

 

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How Donald Trump is slouching towards the Republican nomination

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb.

In America, you can judge a crowd by its merchandise. Outside the Connecticut Convention Centre in Hartford, frail old men and brawny moms are selling “your Trump 45 football jerseys”, “your hats”, “your campaign buttons”. But the hottest item is a T-shirt bearing the slogan “Hillary sucks . . . but not like Monica!” and, on the back: “Trump that bitch!” Inside, beyond the checkpoint manned by the Transportation Security Administration and the secret service (“Good!” the man next to me says, when he sees the agents), is a family whose three kids, two of them girls, are wearing the Monica shirt.

Other people are content with the shirts they arrived in (“Waterboarding – baptising terrorists with freedom” and “If you don’t BLEED red, white and blue, take your bitch ass home!”). There are 80 chairs penned off for the elderly but everyone else is standing: guys in motorcycle and military gear, their arms folded; aspiring deal-makers, suited, on cellphones; giggling high-school fatsos, dressed fresh from the couch, grabbing M&M’s and Doritos from the movie-theatre-style concession stands. So many baseball hats; deep, bellicose chants of “Build the wall!” and “USA!”. (And, to the same rhythm, “Don-ald J!”)

A grizzled man in camouflage pants and combat boots, whose T-shirt – “Connecticut Militia III%” – confirms him as a member of the “patriot” movement, is talking to a zealous young girl in a short skirt, who came in dancing to “Uptown Girl”.

“Yeah, we were there for Operation American Spring,” he says. “Louis Farrakhan’s rally of hate . . .”

“And you’re a veteran?” she asks. “Thank you so much!”

Three hours will pass. A retired US marine will take the rostrum to growl, “God bless America – hoo-rah!”; “Uptown Girl” will play many more times (much like his speeches, Donald J’s playlist consists of a few items, repeated endlessly), before Trump finally looms in and asks the crowd: “Is this the greatest place on Earth?”

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb. Only a minority within a minority of Americans, it was assumed, could possibly be stupid enough to think a Trump presidency was a good idea. He won New Hampshire and South Carolina with over 30 per cent of the Republican vote, then took almost 46 per cent in Nevada. When he cleaned up on Super Tuesday in March, he was just shy of 50 per cent in Massachusetts; a week later, he took 47 per cent of the votes in Mississippi.

His rivals, who are useless individually, were meant to co-operate with each other and the national party to deny him the nomination. But Trump won four out of the five key states being contested on “Super-Duper Tuesday” on 15 March. Then, as talk turned to persuading and co-opting his delegates behind the scenes, Trump won New York with 60 per cent.

Now, the campaign is trying to present Trump as more “presidential”. According to his new manager, Paul Manafort, this requires him to appear in “more formal settings” – without, of course, diluting “the unique magic of Trump”. But whether or not he can resist denouncing the GOP and the “corrupt” primary system, and alluding to violence if he is baulked at at the convention, the new Trump will be much the same as the old.

Back in Hartford: “The Republicans wanna play cute with us, right? If I don’t make it, you’re gonna have millions of people that don’t vote for a Republican. They’re not gonna vote at all,” says Trump. “Hopefully that’s all, OK? Hopefully that’s all, but they’re very, very angry.”

This anger, which can supposedly be turned on anyone who gets in the way, has mainly been vented, so far, on the protesters who disrupt Trump’s rallies. “We’re not gonna be the dummies that lose all of our jobs now. We’re gonna be the smart ones. Oh, do you have one over there? There’s one of the dummies . . .”

There is a frenzied fluttering of Trump placards, off to his right. “Get ’em out! . . . Don’t hurt ’em – see how nice I am? . . . They really impede freedom of speech and it’s a disgrace. But the good news is, folks, it won’t be long. We’re just not taking it and it won’t be long.”

It is their removal by police, at Trump’s ostentatious behest, that causes the disruption, rather than the scarcely audible protesters. He seems to realise this, suddenly: “We should just let ’em . . . I’ll talk right over them, there’s no problem!” But it’s impossible to leave the protesters where they are, because it would not be safe. His crowd is too vicious.

Exit Trump, after exactly half an hour, inclusive of the many interruptions. His people seem uplifted but, out on the street, they are ambushed by a large counter-demonstration, with a booming drum and warlike banners and standards (“Black Lives Matter”; an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, holding aloft Trump’s severed head). Here is the rest of the world, the real American world: young people, beautiful people, more female than male, every shade of skin colour. “F*** Donald Trump!” they chant.

After a horrified split-second, the Trump crowd, massively more numerous, rallies with “USA!” and – perplexingly, since one of the main themes of the speech it has just heard was the lack of jobs in Connecticut – “Get a job!” The two sides then mingle, unobstructed by police. Slanging matches break out that seem in every instance to humiliate the Trump supporter. “Go to college!” one demands. “Man, I am in college, I’m doin’ lovely!”

There is no violence, only this: some black boys are dancing, with liquid moves, to the sound of the drum. Four young Trump guys counter by stripping to their waists and jouncing around madly, their skin greenish-yellow under the street lights, screaming about the building of the wall. There was no alcohol inside; they’re drunk on whatever it is – the elixir of fascism, the unique magic of Trump. It’s a hyper but not at all happy drunk.

As with every other moment of the Trump campaign so far, it would have been merely some grade of the cringeworthy – the embarrassing, the revolting, the pitiful – were Trump not slouching closer and closer, with each of these moments, to his nomination. 

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The new fascism