Imagine cleaning out your basement, finding what appears to be a charming but unremarkable painting, then scratching its surface to discover a Frida Kahlo self-portrait beneath. In 2012, Taylor Swift was a prominent country music artist with crossover appeal, but not a major force in entertainment. Then came the Red album and the genius began to appear. Comparisons with Mozart are now more commonplace and understood, and universities teach courses on her. She occupies the same kind of status as Madonna and Michael Jackson in the 1980s and 1990s and, earlier, Elvis Presley and the Beatles. The Kahlo is now visible. Is there yet another layer?

Swift’s recent endorsement of United States presidential candidate Kamala Harris may conceal more than it reveals. After all, everyone knew her political allegiances lay with Democrats; none of her 284 million Instagram followers or anyone else would have been surprised that she wants Harris to win the forthcoming election. Maybe the endorsement is something more: advance notice that Swift intends to become a political presence in the future. If so, she could run for president in 2028. By then, she’ll be 39 years old. John F. Kennedy was 43 when he was elected in 1960, making him the youngest elected president in US history.

A new day?

Preposterous as it sounds, remember: In May 2015, Donald Trump was known principally for the NBC television show, The Apprentice, which he had fronted since 2004. He’d made his political views well-known, taking out full page ads in The New York Times and The Washington Post criticizing US foreign policy in 1987. In 1999, Trump briefly explored running for the Reform Party’s nomination for president in the 2000 election, though he withdrew.

So when Trump announced his candidacy as a Republican in June 2015, it came as an outrageous surprise. He’d never held political office of any kind. Only one other president had been elected without political experience: Dwight Eisenhower’s background as the Supreme Commander of the Allied Expeditionary Force in Europe during World War II provided him skills that translated well to the presidency. He served two terms as president, from 1953 to 1961.

Eisenhower was a product of a different age in US politics. Trump is very much part of an age when the US struggles with a political bipolarity: Policy vs passion, logic vs emotion, wisdom vs relatability. Politicians are elected as much for celebrity appeal as leadership capability. Voters seem ready to believe they are much the same thing. How otherwise can we explain Trump’s success in 2016?

Two years after Trump’s election, Oprah Winfrey seemed poised to turn the 2020 election into a showbusiness extravaganza when she said she was “actively thinking” about running for president. At least, that was the inference from her speech at the Golden Globes. “A new day is on the horizon,” she prophesied. In 2018, Oprah was at her persuasive peak. She was arguably the single most influential person in the world and would have made a formidable contender, despite her political inexperience. Oprah was a rare celebrity, praised for her moral authority, venerated for her inspiration and respected for her support to countless women. She seemed kissed with purpose — her destiny was surely the White House.

Trump actually named Oprah as a possible running mate when he was considering putting himself forward with the Reform Party in 1999; it’s doubtful she would have been interested.  She settled into a kind of trusted advisor role, dispensing wisdom and assistance without showing any ambition for power. Today, Oprah has lost her momentum, though her coruscating endorsement of Harris was a reminder of her presence. She remains an interested party.

Public face and private life

Traditional politicians like senators and governors have, in recent years, lost immediacy. They project personae and exude authority in a carefully stylized and practiced manner, using the media in almost the same way Bill Clinton (president 1993–2001) or George W. Bush (president 2001–2009) did. By contrast, figures from entertainment know how to make themselves believable. They engage audiences by sharing ostensibly private insights and exchange the experiences that shape or scar them.

Swift, like other celebs, makes no attempt to separate her public face from her private life. She surpasses arguably every artist in history in her ability to share personal experiences through her music. Her fans wax about how her music speaks to them personally with insight and vision. Many of her fans are too young to vote now, but not in four years.

Some readers will think I’ve stumbled Lewis Carrol-like down a rabbit hole leading to a land of magic and strange logic. I remind them that in 2016, Trump secured 304 electoral votes compared to opponent Hillary Clinton’s 227, winning the presidency. He may yet be re-elected. Swift will not feel intimidated by her lack of political worldliness, sophistication or practical knowledge. After all, Trump had none of these benefits.

In 2018, Swift publicly supported Democrats in her home state of Tennessee, causing a surge in voting registrations, especially from young people. It was the first sign of political engagement among her fans. The following year, she spoke out in favor of the Equality Act. In her 2019 music video for “You Need to Calm Down,” she promoted the petition for the act. She was an active supporter of the Black Lives Matter movement as well.

So perhaps it makes sense for her to maintain her position on the sidelines and encourage advocates, but without risking what could be a damaging misstep. A-listers like Barbra Streisand and George Clooney have stayed in their own dominion while earnestly making their political preferences heard. This would be Swift’s safest choice. After all, you can have too much of a good thing and no one in history has ever been as ubiquitous, audibly as well as visibly. Could audiences just get sick of her?

One of the verities of celebrity culture is that it values change, freshness and novelty. Swift has been on top longer than most. Maybe she recognizes this herself and is already plotting a segue into politics. It’s not exactly a logical move: That would be to sidestep into movies. Not that this is without perils: Madonna crashed as spectacularly as she succeeded in cinema.

The sanest thing to happen to the US

Celebrity times demand celebrity politicians — or politicians who are prepared to greet Oprah’s “new day” and entertain as much as govern. In showbusiness, Swift has reached Parnassian heights: astral record sales, unsurpassable box office and unbelievable social media followings. Artistically and commercially, she is at her zenith, cleverly integrating critiques of patriarchy into her songs when she conveys how even unmistakably successful women are still liable to run into misogyny.

But is it all just too trivial? The state of the world is grim and nothing Swift does will change that  right now. But the winds are blowing in her direction: The post-Harvey Weinstein tremors have destabilized patriarchy and the #MeTo movement remains a force. Would Sean Combs have met with instant condemnation and been reassigned as persona non grata were his transgressions known ten years ago? Censured, castigated, deplored, perhaps; but probably not canceled, as he surely will be. The historical privileges of manhood are disappearing.

Will Swift feel like culture-hopping from music to politics? It may be a leap too far, but no one can ignore her unstoppable influence. Much, I believe, depends on the outcome of the November election. If Harris wins, Swift will devote more time to championing her, perhaps closing the distance between herself and the Democrats, but not maneuvering into the political mainstream. If Trump wins instead, Swift may take the leap of faith and embrace the impossible, as giddily disturbing as this sounds today. Given modern America’s history, Swift’s leap could be the sanest thing to happen to the US.

[Ellis Cashmore is the author of The Destruction and Creation of Michael Jackson, Elizabeth Taylor and Celebrity Culture.]

[Lee Thompson-Kolar edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.