Four questions that get to the heart of U.S. politics

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The most important questions about the elections in the United States – who will be the nominees, who will be their running mates, who will win – are beyond the ken of even the greatest fakers and phonies in the American commentariat. And, in fact, we will know the answers to all of them in less than a year, so the best counsel you will read here is: Be patient.

But the more intriguing questions – perhaps even the more important questions – may be answered many months before next November's elections, and the answers to them will shape not only the election but also the politics of the remainder of the decade. They are questions that get to the heart of the issues that animate American politics and get to the heart of the ever-shifting profiles of the two established parties. Here are some of them:

Why are the Republicans so concerned about economic inequality?

In recent history and in American folklore, the Republicans are the party of commerce and the apostles of the free market. For nearly a century – since the presidential triumvirate of Warren G. Harding, Calvin Coolidge and Herbert Hoover that filled all but one year of the entire decade of the 1920s – the Republicans have embraced the outlook and the agenda of business.

But listen to the four Republican presidential debates and you might mistake some of the rhetoric for the New Democratic Party. Former Governor Jeb Bush of Florida, perhaps the most traditional Republican, has declared that "the opportunity gap is the defining issue of our time." Senator Ted Cruz of Texas argues that the current American tax code benefits "hedge-fund billionaires" and exacerbates income inequality. Senator Marco Rubio of Florida speaks of a vision of the GOP as the "champion of the working class." What's this all about? Part of it is merely political rhetoric. Income inequality emerged as a phrase, and then an issue, in the Barack Obama years, and so it is a convenient bludgeon to use against the incumbent Democratic president. Part of it is genuine concern about a legitimate political issue. Part of it is a wedge to move the Republicans away from their image as the party of the plutocrats. And part of it is smart politics.

It is no surprise that, according to this month's McClatchy-Marist Poll, nine times as many Democrats as Republicans believe that income inequality is the top priority for the 2016 campaign. But deep in that poll is an important finding: More than a fifth of independent voters, who may hold the balance of victory in the general election, describe economic inequality as the pre-eminent issue. Failure to address the issue would be political malpractice on the part of the Republicans.

Is Bernie Sanders a socialist?

Probably not, by the standard definition of a socialist as someone who believes the means of production should be owned by the state. As a young man, Mr. Sanders, now the principal opponent of former Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton in the Democratic nomination fight, was associated with groups that brandished the word "socialist." But in truth, socialism has never been a formidable force in American politics, even in Vermont, which only two generations ago was perhaps the most conservative state in the Union; socialism's best showing was in 1912, when Eugene V. Debs won almost a million votes, accounting for about 6 per cent of the American electorate. That was more than a century ago. Today, according to that Marist-McClatchy Poll, fully half of the American public says it would not vote for a socialist as president.

By the strictest standards, the Vermont senator is not a socialist. Which is not to say that his views don't lean in the direction of socialism; of the 2016 candidates, he is the most devout believer in strong government regulation, one of the principles of socialism. But so loaded a term is "socialism" in the American political lexicon that the Sanders campaign has indicated that, before long, the candidate will address whether he is a socialist after all. That very fact underlines how far the American political scene is from that of Europe, or even Canada, and how narrow is the band of acceptable politics in the United States.

Are Donald Trump's supporters more committed to his campaign and agenda than he is?

For months, Mr. Trump has been the repository of Americans' resentments, frustrations, irritations and anxieties. That national sense of impatience, combined with the off-the-cuff, tell-it-like-it-(almost)-is persona that he has perfected over the years, has made Mr. Trump a formidable presence in American politics and, for much of the summer and into the fall, one of the leaders in the Republican lists.

But Mr. Trump's contemporary views – against abortion, in favour of gun rights, among others – often do not square with his past views, a sure sign that a man who looks like he is living on the fly may be thinking on the fly as well. But those who have supported his campaign are true believers, even if their candidate is not. There is one more factor. Some of those adherents are dead serious about his campaign. As for Mr. Trump, who once was a Democrat, at least it can be said that he is having a grand time.

Will any issue with bearing on Canada move to the front burner of American politics?

Now that Mr. Obama has dispatched with the pipeline issue, the answer is probably no. That is not so much a reflection of the times as a reflection of the American mind, which may look across the Atlantic or the Pacific, or even the Rio Grande, but is less likely to peer across the Niagara. In his Your Country, My Country, a newly published dual history of the United States and Canada, Robert Bothwell speaks of the desire for "security from harm or want" that the two countries shared in the 1920s and 1930s. Sadly, aside from a general disapproval of the Islamic State, that's about it for 2016.