One thing that has most of my friends distressed about the election outcome is finding out that a majority of people either voted for Trump or sat out the election—especially troubling as constituencies more likely to be harmed by the next regime supported Harris in numbers fewer than they supported Biden. It’s baffling and upsetting. Harris voters find themselves in the minority.
I am upset by that. But that aspect bothers me less because I’m used to being in the electoral minority. The first time that politics broke my heart was my first election in 1980, when Ronald Reagan, who, beneath that sunny smile, campaigned using “welfare cheats” stereotypes and fearmongering, was elected over that imperfect but good man, Jimmy Carter. This is when CEOs were lionized and “liberal” became a curse word to many.
In 1984 he was reelected over Walter Mondale and Geraldine Ferraro in a landslide. The American appetite for sunny bigotry seemed insatiable.
Almost as bad: the next generation of amiable oligarchy when George W. won after the media piled onto Al Gore for his stiffness and embraced George W as a guy you’d like to have a beer with—as if that was the most important quality.
Even worse: Post-9/11, when George W Bush used the fear and outrage over the terrorist attack to fuel a drumbeat for an invasion of Iraq, even though that country’s “weapons of mass destruction” didn’t exist. What a poisonous atmosphere there was in this country then, as anyone who asked for proof, or for slowing down the march to war, was called soft on terrorism and a traitor. The media were completely in the tank for the war and used it to gin up excitement and headlines. And the majority of Americans went along. It was the closest our generation came to a1950s blacklist/witch-hunt mentality, as voices of moderation were ignored or slandered. That was frightening. (Thankfully, Daily Kos was here.)
When Trump got in the first time it was a horrific shock, truly staggering. It was an election, like this one, that should never have even been close. But at least that time we knew that there were more of us than there were Trump supporters and it was only the quirks of the electoral college system that let him walk away with the election.
Not so, this time. The forces in this country that championed democracy over promised fascism are in the minority. As Gilbert O’Sullivan sang, “Alone again, naturally.”
Okay, but so what?
So were the abolitionists a tiny minority when they began their long fight. So were the suffragettes. So were the anti-nuclear and civil rights protesters in the 1950s. so were the anti-Vietnam war protesters and the second-wave feminists in the mid-1960s. So were the first post Stonewall fighters for LGBTQ rights.
They didn’t support any of these causes because they were popular. They—and we—support them because they are morally right.
In some of the past battles of my lifetime, I’ve felt quite alone and isolated from my fellow Americans. At least now, we have each other, here on far-from-perfect social-media platforms and in other ways. I’m grateful.
The battle for what that imperfect but good man Joe Biden calls “the soul of our nation” will continue—popular or not.
(PS: Take the poll—and tell me about your experiences in the comments if you are so inclined.)
