There’s a difference between real monsters and imaginary ones. A recent essay in Lincoln Square made that point–and the further, not-so-obvious point that expending our energies fighting fictitious ones may be less unproductive than we think.
The essay began with the author explaining that he’d gotten a little girl to sleep by pretending to overpower the monsters that–in her imagination–populated her closet. As he wrote, politics works similarly. The monsters may not be real, but they’ll control the process until someone confronts them.
Every election cycle has its own bedtime story. This last one, the 2024 showdown between Donald Trump and Kamala Harris, was no different. It was a close race, and Trump won it on the margins — those tight, swingy counties where a few thousand votes make democracy feel like a coin toss.
And once again, MAGA’s favorite bedtime story was about the monster in the closet. This time, it wasn’t immigrants or caravans or Critical Race Theory — it was transgender Americans.
Anti-transgender political ads flooded the airwaves, built on the same fear-based architecture Republicans have been refining since Nixon. Trump’s campaign made them a centerpiece, hammering the claim that trans athletes were destroying women’s sports and sneaking into bathrooms to terrorize little girls.
The Democrats didn’t waste much time and effort on pushing back, because the party’s polling suggested that relatively few Americans were swayed by these attacks. But as the author noted, Trump didn’t need very many. He didn’t even need 51%. He needed just enough voters to enable him to flip three counties.
As the author wrote, “That’s the Southern Strategy 2.0: Rebrand hate as “common sense,” then sell it as protection.”
In our digital age, lies can become immortal. As some wag has put it, a lie will go halfway around the world while truth is still putting on its pants. In the Wild West that is our current information environment, truth is increasingly irrelevant; repetition is what matters. In the 2024 election, those millions of dollars in targeted anti-trans messaging weren’t intended to move a majority — “just enough voters in just the right ZIP codes.”
The essay puts this strategy in historical context, finding its roots in Nixon’s Southern Strategy. That strategy has now evolved. As the author put it, the dog whistles have become baked into our reflexes. He quoted the strategy’s “prime mover,” Lee Atwater:
“You start out in 1954 by saying n****, n*****, n*****,”* he said. “By 1968, you can’t say n**** — that hurts you. It backfires. So you start saying stuff like ‘forced busing,’ ‘states’ rights,’ and all that stuff, and you’re getting so abstract now that you’re talking about cutting taxes, and all these things you’re talking about are totally economic things, and the byproduct of them is that Blacks get hurt worse than whites.”*
That wasn’t a slip. It was a strategy. The racism didn’t disappear; it just learned better grammar.
If America’s current political polarization proves anything, it reminds us of the human tribal reflex to divide the world into us and them. Political strategists know that in today’s environment, the use of certain words will trigger predictable responses, and those responses aren’t reasoned — they’re conditioned. “Once fear bonds a group together, logic doesn’t even get a seat at the table.”
The essay argues that Democrats haven’t figured out how to respond to that reality, haven’t recognized that they need to confront political fears, no matter how ridiculous or imaginary those fears may seem, before they metastasize. The monster in the closet doesn’t disappear when you ignore him.
I find that argument persuasive.
What the essay doesn’t tell us, however, is just how the Democrats–and others who see the strategic use of “Othering” for what it is–are supposed to defeat it. In our current information environment, those most likely to be convinced that the monsters are real typically get their “news” from sources that confirm the existence of the monsters in the closet and the threat they pose. In order to evaluate the validity of a proposition, citizens need to hear contending perspectives–and we inhabit a world where millions of people have purposely insulated themselves against evidence that is contrary to their preferred beliefs.
There will always be some percentage of voters who feel the need for someone or something to blame for life’s disappointments, and those voters are perfect targets for the political strategists trying to convince them of the existential threat posed by the monsters in the closet.
I don’t know how we counter that, but we really need to figure it out.
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