How do we dream
of fair leaders wise and kind,
strong and gentle, balancing law with grace?
All we've ever seen are human creatures:
ourselves:
weak and petty, stroked wide
with meanness and anger,
only flecked with patience or beauty
as if on accident; love, as if spattered
from another painting somewhere nearby.
How then do we dream of what's never seen?
--Unless there is a Truth
running as a river underneath this crusted world,
whose pure currents we sometimes hear,
filling us with longing--;
November 2016
Wednesday, November 9
Trump
I'm fascinated by the way the polls massively failed to predict this election. That failure suggests a disconnect between what people said, and how they voted: a widespread self-consciousness among the electorate. I wonder, if our votes were not anonymous, if Clinton would have won this election.
On the one hand, I've heard Clinton supporters claim this as a criticism of Trump supporters, often with some variant of, "If you're too ashamed to support him vocally, why would you vote for him?" The implication is that support for Trump is like a secret sin you're ashamed to admit. Given a dark corner to cast their votes, all the sinners feverishly voted for him, but in the light of day, nobody would admit to it. Therefore, the argument progresses, the reasons for supporting Trump must be dark failures in the human spirit: misogyny, racism, paranoia. Pretty much every article I've read on the election alludes to, or outright advocates, this line of reasoning.
But I wonder. Sadly, there probably was some of that. But I think a lot of Trump supporters just didn't want to be judged. Bombastic, rude, vapid as Trump is, they judged him to be more beneficial to the country than Clinton would be. Whether borne of support for Trump's policy or personality, or borne of opposition to Clinton's policy or past, I think most of the silent Trump voters had very normal reasons for their choice. They simply didn't want to face the emotional vitriol, the judging criticism, the unhearing opposition that seemed to reverberate at a fever pitch across social media.
I think what we witnessed was one side of an argument declaring absolute, overwhelming victory over the conversation. Not the argument—just the conversation.
I'm not a bigot, or a racist, or a misogynist. I don't hate women or minorities or have hidden white anger in my soul. I'm not a goose-stepping Nazi or a Klan cultist. In fact, I emphatically denounce all of those things. But I voted for Trump.
Trump is absent on policy; he's rude; he's not a role model; he's not what I wanted or hoped for. But despite having an unpleasant demeanor, a crass belligerence, I just don't see him as the lambasted racist, misogynist, bigoted demon I keep reading about. He's not Mussolini reborn. He's an older crank with less of a filter than he needs, keeping up a bravado facade. This country has quite a few like him.
So why did I vote for him? Honestly, I was an actual undecided voter until Tuesday night, a first for me. Trump is rude; Clinton broke the law. They're both very bad choices. I would have voted for a third-party candidate, but Gina made a compelling argument that current health care policy is ruining our health care infrastructure, and Trump was likely to correct that course more than exacerbate it, while Clinton would do the opposite.
Additionally, since I have to choose between corruption or belligerence in the top office of the land, I prefer belligerence. The Presidency exists to uphold and defend the law: you can do so, while rude. You cannot do so while flaunting the very law you're asked to defend. Clinton openly dismissed laws I myself am asked to diligently maintain; to me, it's disingenuous to elevate such a person to the Presidency.
And that's it. That's why I voted. No hatred, no anger, no white male resentment. I generally disliked both candidates; a policy issue and a philosophical opinion tipped my scale.
But even now, with the dust settling, I'm not comfortable speaking out. I don't have the energy to be hated. I don't have the stamina to carefully explain my reasoned position to people who are already shouting and angry. I don't want to defend my rationale before the mob court of social media. I listened a lot, I read a lot, and at the eleventh hour I came to a tepid conclusion. That was enough for me.
That's why I think polling was off. We don't have piles of racist lunatics hiding in the corners. But we do have a lot of tired citizens who came to reasonable conclusions and chose to stay silent rather than attract a tidal wave of negative attention with public support for Trump.
The truth is, reasonable people can disagree. We can reasonably disagree about how offensive something or someone is. We can reasonably disagree about the merits or implications of a policy proposal. We can reasonably disagree about the potential or appropriate consequences of someone's actions. We can reasonably disagree about standards and qualifications. But in order to actually hear one another, we both need to realize that we are each reasonable; that disagreement does not imply irrationality.
The tragic irony to me is that folks on the left—who to their credit embrace great tolerance and diversity—so frequently argue their politics with such dogmatism, absolutism, and self-righteousness. I've watched this build up for years: if you supported W (who was stupid, of course), you were obviously an idiot; if you didn't support Obama (who was amazing, of course), you were obviously a racist. No; reasonable people can disagree.
I think the left will probably keep on winning the conversation, for as long as they want to win it. But this election has grimly demonstrated that the argument is not at all over, and silence is not consent. We've just stopped speaking to one another—or listening.
On the one hand, I've heard Clinton supporters claim this as a criticism of Trump supporters, often with some variant of, "If you're too ashamed to support him vocally, why would you vote for him?" The implication is that support for Trump is like a secret sin you're ashamed to admit. Given a dark corner to cast their votes, all the sinners feverishly voted for him, but in the light of day, nobody would admit to it. Therefore, the argument progresses, the reasons for supporting Trump must be dark failures in the human spirit: misogyny, racism, paranoia. Pretty much every article I've read on the election alludes to, or outright advocates, this line of reasoning.
But I wonder. Sadly, there probably was some of that. But I think a lot of Trump supporters just didn't want to be judged. Bombastic, rude, vapid as Trump is, they judged him to be more beneficial to the country than Clinton would be. Whether borne of support for Trump's policy or personality, or borne of opposition to Clinton's policy or past, I think most of the silent Trump voters had very normal reasons for their choice. They simply didn't want to face the emotional vitriol, the judging criticism, the unhearing opposition that seemed to reverberate at a fever pitch across social media.
I think what we witnessed was one side of an argument declaring absolute, overwhelming victory over the conversation. Not the argument—just the conversation.
I'm not a bigot, or a racist, or a misogynist. I don't hate women or minorities or have hidden white anger in my soul. I'm not a goose-stepping Nazi or a Klan cultist. In fact, I emphatically denounce all of those things. But I voted for Trump.
Trump is absent on policy; he's rude; he's not a role model; he's not what I wanted or hoped for. But despite having an unpleasant demeanor, a crass belligerence, I just don't see him as the lambasted racist, misogynist, bigoted demon I keep reading about. He's not Mussolini reborn. He's an older crank with less of a filter than he needs, keeping up a bravado facade. This country has quite a few like him.
So why did I vote for him? Honestly, I was an actual undecided voter until Tuesday night, a first for me. Trump is rude; Clinton broke the law. They're both very bad choices. I would have voted for a third-party candidate, but Gina made a compelling argument that current health care policy is ruining our health care infrastructure, and Trump was likely to correct that course more than exacerbate it, while Clinton would do the opposite.
Additionally, since I have to choose between corruption or belligerence in the top office of the land, I prefer belligerence. The Presidency exists to uphold and defend the law: you can do so, while rude. You cannot do so while flaunting the very law you're asked to defend. Clinton openly dismissed laws I myself am asked to diligently maintain; to me, it's disingenuous to elevate such a person to the Presidency.
And that's it. That's why I voted. No hatred, no anger, no white male resentment. I generally disliked both candidates; a policy issue and a philosophical opinion tipped my scale.
But even now, with the dust settling, I'm not comfortable speaking out. I don't have the energy to be hated. I don't have the stamina to carefully explain my reasoned position to people who are already shouting and angry. I don't want to defend my rationale before the mob court of social media. I listened a lot, I read a lot, and at the eleventh hour I came to a tepid conclusion. That was enough for me.
That's why I think polling was off. We don't have piles of racist lunatics hiding in the corners. But we do have a lot of tired citizens who came to reasonable conclusions and chose to stay silent rather than attract a tidal wave of negative attention with public support for Trump.
The truth is, reasonable people can disagree. We can reasonably disagree about how offensive something or someone is. We can reasonably disagree about the merits or implications of a policy proposal. We can reasonably disagree about the potential or appropriate consequences of someone's actions. We can reasonably disagree about standards and qualifications. But in order to actually hear one another, we both need to realize that we are each reasonable; that disagreement does not imply irrationality.
The tragic irony to me is that folks on the left—who to their credit embrace great tolerance and diversity—so frequently argue their politics with such dogmatism, absolutism, and self-righteousness. I've watched this build up for years: if you supported W (who was stupid, of course), you were obviously an idiot; if you didn't support Obama (who was amazing, of course), you were obviously a racist. No; reasonable people can disagree.
I think the left will probably keep on winning the conversation, for as long as they want to win it. But this election has grimly demonstrated that the argument is not at all over, and silence is not consent. We've just stopped speaking to one another—or listening.
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