The party’s presidential field was on hand at the Republican Jewish Coalition conference, where the rhetoric was as inflammatory as ever. But it was the man who wasn’t there who could ultimately shift the outcome of this drama

Standing beneath four white Doric columns that parodied the White House, Donald Trump surveyed an auditorium full of wealthy Jewish Americans. He couldn’t resist. “You’re not going to support me even though I’m the best thing that could ever happen to Israel,” Trump told them. “You’re not going to support me because I don’t want your money … You want to control your own politician.”

There was uneasy laughter in the wood-panelled room. Trump, like a sequel to The Office in which David Brent/Michael Scott runs for office, had brought his shtick to the Republican Jewish Coalition (RJC) conference in Washington. He got laughs, he got boos, he got to display his blissful ignorance of Middle East politics and environmental science. He showed how he stands out from the melee with his own reality distortion field.

With less than a year to go until the presidential election, there are still 14 candidates for the Republican nomination. On Thursday, in the absence of Rand Paul, it was a case of Twelve Angry Men and Carly Fiorina. On something resembling a cheap stage set with those columns, a presidential seal and a red, white and blue backdrop reminiscent of the Stars and Stripes, the hopefuls appeared on one stage for the only time outside the debates. The Wi-Fi password was: “HillaryIsWrongOnIran”.

It was something of a political education for me, fresh from reporting on politics in Africa, where democracies are young and fragile and a peaceful transition of power is still afforded special praise. Several African leaders are currently seeking to flout their constitutions by running for a third term; imagine if Barack Obama tried such a thing. These presidents seldom take part in televised debates or allow their records to be tested by the media. Africa’s infamous “big man” syndrome is far from defeated.

Yet America has its big men too; it’s just that after 239 years, they are harder to see. The conference in Washington was all about a big man who wasn’t in the room. It wasn’t Donald Trump. It was Sheldon Adelson.

The casino billionaire is the RJC’s primary benefactor and spent more on the 2012 elections than any other donor. His tens of millions almost single-handedly kept alive former House speaker Newt Gingrich’s doomed bid for the White House. “The RJC plays such a constructive role in electing Republicans,” Jeb Bush said on Thursday. Critics accuse it of whipping up pro-Israel hysteria that bears little relation to the concerns of moderate Jewish Americans.

Last month I sat in the same auditorium at the Ronald Reagan Building for a conference of American Indians and Alaska Natives, who make up 2% of the US population. They told me they had received a pitch from only one Republican candidate, Ben Carson. Jews similarly make up 2% of the US population, and 70% of those vote Democrat, yet 13 GOP candidates showed up for them. Or rather, for Adelson’s patronage (the man himself was travelling, so they found themselves like actors auditioning for an absent director).

From Ted Cruz to John Kasich, from Rick Santorum to Mike Huckabee, they lined up to to swear allegiance to Israel, trying to outdo each other on number of visits to Jerusalem, how often they had shaken Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s hand and how terrible their wrath would be against the boycott, divest and sanction campaign. The oneupmanship continued in their plans for Islamic State – “We’re going to knock the crap out of them,” said Trump; “We’ll bomb them back to the seventh century,” said Rick Santorum; “We need to get to grips with the idea that we are in the midst of the next world war,” said an energetic Chris Christie – as well as the four horsemen of the apocalypse: the ayatollah of Iran, Vladimir Putin, Obama and enemy No 1, Hillary Clinton.

The speeches called to mind King Lear’s daughters trying to outdo each other with obsequious expressions of devotion. It fell to Trump, of all people, to be the Cordelia who “cannot heave / My heart into my mouth”, and in there, perhaps, lies some of his appeal.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest ‘I want your support, I don’t want your money,’ Trump told the crowd. Photograph: UPI/Landov/Barcroft Media

A billionaire himself, Trump does not need Adelson’s loot or anyone else’s, and is ungracious enough to boast about it. “I want your support, I don’t want your money,” the frontrunner said, wearing a suit, white shirt and red tie, adding cheerfully that he probably won’t get it.

The tycoon went on with a stream of consciousness that would have been lapped up by Jon Stewart if the Jewish comedian were still hosting The Daily Show. “I am a negotiator like you folks,” he said, condemning Obama’s Iran deal. “And maybe better than any audience, the people in this room understand what I’m saying.”

He went on: “Some of us renegotiate deals. Is there anybody that doesn’t renegotiate deals in this room? Perhaps more than any room I’ve ever spoken to.”

Trump might as well have said “Some of my best friends are Jews”, yet he earned more laughs from the 700 spectators than any other candidate. Only when he refused to say whether he supports Israel’s position that Jerusalem is its undivided capital, as many of his rivals were eager to do, did he find himself booed. He didn’t seem too bothered.

There were mavericks, rabble rousers and demagogues in Africa – South Africa’s Julius Malema has even been compared to Hitler – but no one quite like Trump. He bragged of crowds at his rallies that beat Elton John’s, promised that his business skills can bring peace to the Middle East (“The hardest deal in history to put together. If I can do that, it would make me so happy”) and revealed the extent of his expertise on Arab diplomacy (“The king of Jordan seems like a nice man”) and global warming (“which a lot of people think is a hoax”). He mused, as if on an accident: “Now I’m a politician. I’m embarrassed by that term.”

Trump is the personification of capitalism – apolitical, unfettered, morally blind and rich – in a nation that worships capitalism, and has led the polls for five months. But later I asked one businessman what he made of him. “I’ve done a couple of deals with him and he’s not that great,” he said. “My mother-in-law likes him because she says he’s tough. What does tough mean? He’ll start world war three?”

He was not the only candidate trading in stereotypes. Ohio governor John Kasich said his mother advised him to seek Jewish friends because they are loyal. “My mother told me one time, she said, Johnny – when I was a very young man – she said, Johnny, if you want to look for a really good friend, get somebody who’s Jewish. And you know why she said that? She said, no matter what happens to you, your friend, your Jewish friend will stick by your side and fight right with you and stand by you.”

Carson, meanwhile, came over as a university academic delivering someone else’s lecture on the history of the Middle East. He stumbled over words such as “Hamas” and the lesson appeared to be: “The world is complicated, the Middle East is even more complicated.” Oh, and there was a joke of sorts: “I dare say there are more women fighter pilots in Israel than there are women with drivers’ licences in Saudi Arabia.” Carson allowed himself a mischievous grin at that one.

Spare a thought for the also-rans, gamely clinging on and turning up with no hope of winning. There is something noble about it in a modern democracy. Lindsey Graham, the South Carolina senator trailing in the polls, pleaded: “I am at 1%, the election is still a long way away. Help me stay in this race.”

Facebook Twitter Pinterest It shouldn’t have been like this: Jeb Bush on the sidelines. Photograph: Alex Wong/Getty Images

Against such competition, it really should have been Jeb Bush. That would have relieved a big headache for the Republican establishment. Bush has the height, look and name of a president, but when he opens his mouth, the balloon deflates into the opposite of greatness. On Thursday he came up with soundbites – “Who has the right stuff?” and “I will take it to Hillary Clinton and I will whup her” – and won cheers from the audience. But the crown seems destined to elude him.

Marco Rubio, as polished as a new doll, was on message but the content of his speech was a little dry. Ted Cruz, equally poised as a public speaker, was more visceral, comparing Obama with Neville Chamberlain in 1938 and declaring: “The politically correct doublespeak from this administration has gone beyond ridiculous. When the president says the Islamic State is not Islamic, that’s just nutty.”

Cruz was one of the few candidates to question the overall direction of the Republican party, contending that centrists have lost the two elections and therefore a conservative is needed to bring evangelical Christians and Reagan Democrats back to the polls. The Texan senator believes that only he can do it. He will have been praying that the invisible big man was listening and reaching for his wallet.