I don't know anyone who voted for Trump.
Well, that is not entirely true. I am sure that I do know a few people. I work on a military installation so I am sure I actually know lots of people. And if my pre-election facebook feed is any indication there are one or two 'friends' who are celebrating.
But I don't actually have a personal relationship with anyone who voted for Trump.
That is a problem. It is perhaps THE problem.
Had the republican nominee been nearly anyone else, with maybe the exception of Ted Cruz, I would have certainly known scores of people who would have voted for a Bush or a Kaisch or even a Rubio. Not only would I have known them I would have had close personal relationships with more than a few - my father being chief among them. And not only would I have known them I would have had conversations with them about it. I would have talked about why I thought they chose wrong, they would have told me why they voted the way they did. We would have had some kind of a back and forth. I am sure that in most cases it would even have been civil, if perhaps a little tense.
One of the many thoughts that ran through my head after Tuesday's vote was, "I need to sit down and talk with a Trump supporter." And I quickly realized that it wasn't even possible for me to do so. There is truly no one in my inner and even second tier circle of friends that I a) know voted for Trump and b) would feel comfortable asking them about their choice.
In fact, now that I think about it I don't think I had a single conversation with a Trump supporter through the entire 18 month election cycle. That is extraordinary.
Now, I am getting older and am not nearly the social butterfly I once was. I have a 2 year old and I work far too much and often times travel for work - which all means that I tend not to socialize all that much. And when I do - it is with a small circle of close friends that have endured the test of time. Inevitably they tend to think a lot like I do and have similar values.
But that being said, I had plenty of conversations with people who did not vote for Hillary. Some of them quite heated. Some of them with my closest and dearest friends and family.
One of the other things I have been struggling with is trying to decide how unique Trump's election really is. Is it the monumental shift that some seem to think it is? Or is mostly bluster - the classic sound and fury that ultimately signals a different version of the same old thing? Or is it truly a whole new thing?
I think it is far too early to tell. There is certainly a lot to discuss regarding the implications for the business of the American presidential campaign - what can and cannot be successfully exploited on the campaign trail. But the real impact will be come once Trump takes office and there is, frankly, no way to truly know what will happen.
Which I suppose is unique in its own way. It is hard to imagine so much uncertainty surrounding any other candidate in modern history. Most others could be counted on to follow fairly closely a party platform that was well known and understood, if not supported, by the vast majority of voters. That is simply not the case here and nearly a week after the election we have scant indication from the President-Elect to help us gauge.
But I do think that that the fact that I, as a reasonably intelligent and engaged citizen, had literally not a single conversation with a Trump supporter is also unique and points to something serious and troubling in our country right now. Maybe I am alone in this predicament but I suspect not. I'd be willing to bet that there are more than a few like myself. And even of those who do know a Trump supporter or two I would be willing to bet that it is a very small subset that actually had sustained and constructive political conversations with them.
So maybe it is a little unique. But was it just a fluke? Could all be forgotten quickly with a Democratic rebound in 2 and then 4 years? Maybe but I don't think we as a country should think that way. I think that we all, democrats, republicans and otherwise should take pause. And beyond rhetoric or politics or faith or race or whatever, just accept that, in some ways, we are truly a divided nation.
In fact we have always been. We were actually designed by destiny and by decree to be a divided nation. We don't have to agree. We won't agree. Even on central issues - perhaps even issues of existential importance to our chosen form of government. It is one of our greatest strengths. It is also a great vulnerability. It is a vulnerability when the conversation completely breaks down. And I think that it has. Obviously, at least for me, it has. To be clear - I am not assigning blame to a particular party or kind of voter. I think we are all to blame. If there is one thing we should bear in mind it is that in a government of the people, for the people and by the people it is us, the people, who are ultimately accountable to each other. The system is not perfect but nor is it rigged. And every now and then we need to make the effort to reconnect with each other.
So, if you, like me, voted for Hillary I think it is time you had an honest conversation with a Trump supporter. If you voted for Trump and are reading this blog (which would be a stretch since currently no one is reading this blog) write to me, let's start a conversation. I am not saying we need to agree. I am not even saying we need to find common ground. But we need to talk.
Sunday, November 13, 2016
The First Time a Clinton Broke My Heart
I have a vivid image of the the 1992 presidential election. It is of a political cartoon that ran in my hometown newspaper after the second presidential debate. The cartoon showed George Bush falling through two old style safety nets - the kind you would image the three stooges holding out as someone attempts to jump from a building. The nets were labeled '1st Debate' and '2nd Debate' with the cartoon Bush careening towards a final net labeled '3rd Debate.'
At the time I was 11 years old and far more interested in presidential politics than any 11 year old should be. The message was not lost on me as I had spent weeks 'campaigning' in my classrooms and hallways of my elementary school - telling anyone who would listen about the great George Bush and all he was going to do for our country in his second term. I have no idea what those arguments might have been; what constitutes relevant political issues to a room full of sixth graders? But I remember staring that cartoon down -hoping against hope that my candidate would rise to the occasion in the third debate and secure the victory I was sure was his to be had.
I also had no concept of demographics or party loyalties and was genuinely shocked and frustrated that my fellow classmates in urban Minneapolis, Minnesota - a state that since 1932 has voted for a republican presidential candidate only once (Nixon '72) - did not immediately warm to my message of fiscal responsibility and national security. But I doubled down on my efforts. I worked it in to every conversation. I covered every inch of notebook, paper bag book cover, folder, trapper keeper and pencil box in my possession with some iteration of 'Bush for President' or Bush '92
I don't remember if I truly thought he would win, if I was watching the polls closely or had any clue what they were saying but I do know that on the Wednesday morning following the election I was genuinely shocked, sad, embarrassed and desperately wanted to stay home sick.
I didn't really know what was at stake in the election. I didn't know why my guy had lost or what it would mean for the country. I only knew that I didn't like how I felt. I swore off politics forever.
But of course forever is a relative term for an 11 year old and as one might expect from an 8 year old who recorded news coverage of the inauguration in 1988 to VHS tapes on his family's newly acquired VCR (and made concentrated efforts to memorize Bush's remarks) I have remained a bit of a political junkie. I ran my own campaigns for student government. I wrote high school papers on campaign finance reform. I went to college with the firm intention of being a Political Science major (luckily fate intervened but more on that later) I was an online volunteer for the McCain campaign, making cold calls from my boarding school dorm room in Connecticut.
But after that disappointment in November of '92 I also managed to maintain what I viewed as a healthy emotional distance from my interest in American politics. '92 left a mark and whether it was conscious or otherwise I made sure to not get too invested - lest I end up feeling like I did as an embarrassed and confused 11 year old quietly suffering through homeroom as the sole republican in a sea of Clinton enthusiasts.
And I did pretty well. Through triumphs and defeats I managed to keep a pretty even keel. I remained solid in my conviction that the individual office holders were not nearly as important as the office itself; that the system would adequately temper what any one individual could do. I slowly turned towards policy over personality and managed to avoid my pre-adolescence political misery. Some of this was gaining a better understanding of the political system, some of it was just getting older. Either way it worked for a long time.
But this week I found myself once again knocked sideways by a presidential election: shocked, saddened, embarrassed and wanting to just call in sick. How and why I (and millions others) came to feel that way will be addressed later. But it won't be the point of this blog.(Obviously, my politics have shifted quite a bit since I was 11 - plenty more on that later).
The main reason for this blog is inspired by another vivid memory from Bush's '92 defeat:
As I sat in class that Wednesday morning, silently wallowing in confused embarrassment and disappointment, I could feel the eyes of all my classmates. Mostly imagined, I am sure, but my sudden silence after weeks of regaling the class with political rhetoric was surely noticed. And there would have been no doubt to anyone in that room how I felt about the result. I barely listened to the teacher. I stared intently at my desk and fought off tears. No one said anything to me.
Then Charlie Ruce, a classmate and a friend but not a fellow Bush supporter, simply came up to me as I sat miserably in my chair. He but his arm around me and said, 'I'm sorry.'
I don't remember what else happened or was said that day but for 25 years I have remembered that gesture with gratitude and fondness.
My greatest fear following Tuesday's election is that the space for that gesture has all but disappeared from our nation. My hope is that for those who find it, this blog can be a small corner of the internet where people who disagree can none the less recognize each others hopes and sadness and bring it upon themselves to offer their arm and a kind word.
At the time I was 11 years old and far more interested in presidential politics than any 11 year old should be. The message was not lost on me as I had spent weeks 'campaigning' in my classrooms and hallways of my elementary school - telling anyone who would listen about the great George Bush and all he was going to do for our country in his second term. I have no idea what those arguments might have been; what constitutes relevant political issues to a room full of sixth graders? But I remember staring that cartoon down -hoping against hope that my candidate would rise to the occasion in the third debate and secure the victory I was sure was his to be had.
I also had no concept of demographics or party loyalties and was genuinely shocked and frustrated that my fellow classmates in urban Minneapolis, Minnesota - a state that since 1932 has voted for a republican presidential candidate only once (Nixon '72) - did not immediately warm to my message of fiscal responsibility and national security. But I doubled down on my efforts. I worked it in to every conversation. I covered every inch of notebook, paper bag book cover, folder, trapper keeper and pencil box in my possession with some iteration of 'Bush for President' or Bush '92
I don't remember if I truly thought he would win, if I was watching the polls closely or had any clue what they were saying but I do know that on the Wednesday morning following the election I was genuinely shocked, sad, embarrassed and desperately wanted to stay home sick.
I didn't really know what was at stake in the election. I didn't know why my guy had lost or what it would mean for the country. I only knew that I didn't like how I felt. I swore off politics forever.
But of course forever is a relative term for an 11 year old and as one might expect from an 8 year old who recorded news coverage of the inauguration in 1988 to VHS tapes on his family's newly acquired VCR (and made concentrated efforts to memorize Bush's remarks) I have remained a bit of a political junkie. I ran my own campaigns for student government. I wrote high school papers on campaign finance reform. I went to college with the firm intention of being a Political Science major (luckily fate intervened but more on that later) I was an online volunteer for the McCain campaign, making cold calls from my boarding school dorm room in Connecticut.
But after that disappointment in November of '92 I also managed to maintain what I viewed as a healthy emotional distance from my interest in American politics. '92 left a mark and whether it was conscious or otherwise I made sure to not get too invested - lest I end up feeling like I did as an embarrassed and confused 11 year old quietly suffering through homeroom as the sole republican in a sea of Clinton enthusiasts.
And I did pretty well. Through triumphs and defeats I managed to keep a pretty even keel. I remained solid in my conviction that the individual office holders were not nearly as important as the office itself; that the system would adequately temper what any one individual could do. I slowly turned towards policy over personality and managed to avoid my pre-adolescence political misery. Some of this was gaining a better understanding of the political system, some of it was just getting older. Either way it worked for a long time.
But this week I found myself once again knocked sideways by a presidential election: shocked, saddened, embarrassed and wanting to just call in sick. How and why I (and millions others) came to feel that way will be addressed later. But it won't be the point of this blog.(Obviously, my politics have shifted quite a bit since I was 11 - plenty more on that later).
The main reason for this blog is inspired by another vivid memory from Bush's '92 defeat:
As I sat in class that Wednesday morning, silently wallowing in confused embarrassment and disappointment, I could feel the eyes of all my classmates. Mostly imagined, I am sure, but my sudden silence after weeks of regaling the class with political rhetoric was surely noticed. And there would have been no doubt to anyone in that room how I felt about the result. I barely listened to the teacher. I stared intently at my desk and fought off tears. No one said anything to me.
Then Charlie Ruce, a classmate and a friend but not a fellow Bush supporter, simply came up to me as I sat miserably in my chair. He but his arm around me and said, 'I'm sorry.'
I don't remember what else happened or was said that day but for 25 years I have remembered that gesture with gratitude and fondness.
My greatest fear following Tuesday's election is that the space for that gesture has all but disappeared from our nation. My hope is that for those who find it, this blog can be a small corner of the internet where people who disagree can none the less recognize each others hopes and sadness and bring it upon themselves to offer their arm and a kind word.
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