The Depressing Truth

Yesterday, I wrote about my swings between optimism and pessimism as we approach November. I’ve now read a depressing article suggesting that even a “best-case” election result will not erase America’s Trumpist plague.

An article from The Bulwark began with the following quote from Philip Bump:

The Trump era is about Trump in the way that the War of 1812 was about 1812: a critically important component and a useful touchstone but not all-encompassing. Turning the page on the era requires more than Trump failing to get an electoral vote majority.

Perhaps a more accurate time span to consider is something like 15 years. The election of Barack Obama as president in 2008 was hailed as a signal moment in the evolution of American politics and demography, but it also triggered a remarkable backlash. Ostensibly rooted in concerns about government spending, it was largely centered on the disruption of the economic crisis (which triggered an increase in spending) and that overlapping awareness of how America was changing.

The author went on to agree. As he recounted, he’d originally viewed Trump as an aberration–after all, he’d gotten through the Republican primaries with pluralities, not majorities, of Republican votes, and he’d underperformed his poll numbers in virtually every primary. Large numbers of Republican voters hated him. He trailed Hillary Clinton in all of the polling. All of these data points led him to conclude that Trump would lose the 2016 general election, that in the wake of that loss the GOP establishment would take measures against those who’d supported him, and the Party would go back to being the Party  of Mitt Romney, Paul Ryan, and Marco Rubio.

As the author candidly admits, he was wrong on all counts.

My first mistake was not understanding that Trump had turned the mild tilt of the Electoral College into an enduring 3-point advantage.

By trading suburban, college-educated voters for rural, high-school educated voters, Trump maximized the GOP’s Electoral College efficiency. This trade turned the GOP into a permanent minority party, making it extraordinarily difficult for it to win a national popular majority. But it tilted the Electoral College system to Republicans by a minimum of 3 points in every election.

This was a true innovation. Prior to Trump, no one had viewed minority rule as a viable electoral strategy.

His second mistake was his belief that party elders would expel or neuter those who had supported Trump. As he now recognizes, that mistake wasn’t simply because Trump won. “It was wrong because the real war was not the general election, but a Republican civil war between traditional Republicans and those who wanted “grievance-based political violence.”

The grievance aspect was important because it meant that Trump could deliver to his voters even if he lost. Trump understood that Republican voters now existed in a post-policy space in which they viewed politics as a lifestyle brand. And this lifestyle brand did not require holding electoral office…

So no, there were never going to be recriminations against conservatives and Republicans who had collaborated with Trump. The recriminations would run in the opposite direction: The forces of Trumpism would continue to own the Republican party and anti-Trumpers would continue to be driven out. (Unless they chose to convert.)

That led to a third mistake: believing that the Republican Party would revert to its previous identity as a normal, center-Right political party. He now believes there is no going back.

If anything, the dynamics inside the party—the self-selection making the party whiter, more rural, and less-educated; the desire for minority rule; the eagerness for political violence; the disinterest in governing—seem likely to push the party further away from what it was.

We can’t control the future. And we can’t control the Republican party. All we can control is ourselves.

Which starts with being clear-eyed about reality and the work ahead.

The essay confirmed my reluctant realization that far more of the American electorate falls into that “grievance-based” category than I want to believe. Americans aren’t simply engaged in a Presidential campaign, but a much longer, more protracted struggle for the soul of the nation.

Even if Kamala Harris and Tim Walz win in November, those of us who define patriotism as allegiance to the philosophy of our founding principles will have to contend with the White “Christian” Nationalists who want to abandon those principles in favor of an autocratic, theocratic vision that accords them social and cultural dominance. (If you don’t believe me about that “vision,” take a look at Project 2025. Or–if you live in Indiana– read statements from Micah Beckwith or Jim Banks.)

November is just Round One. That said, winning it decisively is an absolutely essential first step.

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Morning In America?

Remember Reagan’s “Morning in America”? I do–and it was the first phrase that came to mind when Kamala Harris and her just-announced choice for Vice-President, Tim Walz, appeared together at their first event, in Philadelphia.

The folks that the late Molly Ivins dubbed “the chattering class” have been almost uniformly enthusiastic about the choice of Walz, offering a wide number of reasons. I was excited and gratified by that choice for two rather different reasons: first, as a policy nerd (I know–you hadn’t noticed!), I especially love his strong support for public education. (I agree with most of his other policy positions too.). Second, he’s a mensch. Long before he entered politics, when he was still a high school coach, he sponsored his school’s first gay-straight alliance–understanding that having a straight, married, macho coach as a sponsor would send a strong anti-bullying message to those teens who might be inclined to pick on gay kids.

But what really has me pumped up is that both Harris and Walz are such happy warriors. They smile. They joke. They laugh. (Has anyone ever seen Donald Trump laugh? He snickers on occasion, but–unlike normal people– he never laughs. And his idea of “jokes” are almost always cruel put-downs of someone who has displeased him.)

The reason this new team and their joyous approach has made me so much more positive than I was a few weeks ago was perfectly described by Bill Kristol in a recent essay in the Bulwark. Kristol isn’t usually one of my favorite political pundits, but–as the saying goes–he hit this one out of the park.

As he noted, in their first appearance together, Harris and Walz were happy warriors.

I want to believe that being happy warriors is superior, not just morally and aesthetically but also practically and politically, to being sullen and resentful ones. We’ll see if that’s the case in the year 2024.

I’ll add that Harris, Walz, and Shapiro weren’t just happy warriors. They were distinctly hopeful and future-oriented ones.

Again, I want to believe that’s what most Americans want. That we want leaders who live in the present and will work to make America better in the future, not figures who scowl at the present and fear the future. And certainly not candidates who justify extraordinary mean-spiritedness in the name of an embittered nostalgia for an imaginary past.

To which I respond “Yes yes yes!!”

I am so very tired of the politics of nastiness and incivility, tired of the thundering diatribes of theocrats (aptly described as members of the Handmaid’s Tale faction of the GOP), of the insistence that America needs to return to the “verities” of a time that never existed except in the minds of unhappy White guys…I have to believe that most American voters are equally tired of living in the GOP’s gloomy, rancid, hate-filled fantasy world.

Kristol made another very important observation with which I entirely agree.

Finally, I was struck that the mood in Philadelphia was, if I can put it this way, all-American. Watching Shapiro and Walz and Harris—an Easterner and a Midwesterner and a Californian, men and women of such different backgrounds and religions and races—I thought: You know, this is America. 

It’s an unoriginal thought, to be sure. And as I thought it, an unoriginal—and for that matter an out of date and out of favor—phrase for some reason popped into my mind: the “melting pot.”

The image of the “melting pot” has never really described America. Many people have suggested better images—a mosaic, for instance—to capture American openness and pluralism and integration. Still, for some reason the phrase stuck in my mind.

In much the same way, images of that introductory gathering in Philadelphia made me think of “Morning in America.” Not the same morning that Reagan envisioned, rather obviously, but the dawning possibility that America might return to a politics  that celebrates the art of the possible– a politics of inclusion rather than exclusion, a politics that moves us, however incrementally, toward the vision of human equality outlined in the Declaration of Independence. 

A forward-looking politics.

Maybe the morning sun will even shine in Indiana……

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