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Richard Ojeda is standing for election in the heartland of Donald Trump terrain, a poverty-scarred slice of West Virginia filled with coal mines, timber farms and dollar stores. As a Democrat, this should be a Quixotic quest since he is fighting for votes in the reddest slice of the second reddest state in 2016, an area filled with the sort of struggling white families that formed the bedrock of the reality television star’s triumphant assault on the White House.
Almost three in four voters in this district backed Trump. They included Ojeda, who like others was lured by the tycoon’s vocal support for industry, his visits to the state and his rival’s dismal lack of appeal to working-class voters. But now standing in a Congressional contest that will help shape the future of a divided nation, he condemns the administration in Washington as “a friggin’ circus”. And with polls indicating he might just recover an area once fertile for Democrats by pulling off an unlikely victory, some see this bullish character as a model for fighting back against a president disrupting traditional politics.
Shortly before I drove deep into Trumpland to talk with his supporters and enemies, the president spoke at a rally in the state. His ratings may be falling and legal problems mounting, but he stuck to his usual script with trademark attacks on ‘fake news’ and the ‘Russian witch hunt’. And away from the scorn of Washington I found many voters in West Virginia and Virginia who like how Trump is defying political norms, admire his leadership and appreciate a thriving economy. The key question as campaigning starts in earnest for critical mid-term votes in November is whether enough will stay loyal to the Republicans – or if Democrats can defeat a man they despise so deeply. At stake is not just control of Congress but possible impeachment of the 45th president.
The Democrats are still shell-shocked by Trump and his Twitterstorm style of politics, largely rudderless and struggling to find an effective riposte despite a slew of generic polls giving them a double-figure lead. Ojeda stands in fascinating contrast to both the new urban liberals and the gltizy property baron, sharing the president’s brashness but not his background – he is the grandson of a Mexican migrant who came to work in the mines. “When I graduated it was dig coal, sell dope or join the army,” he said. “And 30 years later nothing has changed.”
He joined the paratroopers – and now, aged 47, campaigns in army fatigues with a sharp buzzcut and body filled with tattoos, including some paying tribute to fallen comrades. He ticks some standard party boxes, such as backing medical cannabis. But he is defiantly pro-gun, pro-coal and, above all, a passionate advocate for the working-class whose fury over cuts, and fiery speech delivered in the state senate telling energy firms to pay more taxes to support teachers, helped spark the region’s first classroom strike in history. “No offence to New York and California but there are 48 other states in our country. What about all those Middle Americans who just want to be able to work and feed their families?”
This is populism with an Appalachian twang – and it once led to a beating with brass knuckledusters he believes was politically motivated when he first took on his local party establishment by running for the local senate. He has said lobbyists in Washington should wear body cameras and focuses hard on mainstream labour issues. “Everyone seems to have forgotten what being a Democrat is all about,’ he told me. ‘To them it is all about money. They can’t relate to ordinary people and that’s why we’ve lost power.”
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