How Do I Reconcile a Vote for Trump?

“‘I don’t like the way these people do, so I have no time for them.’ You’d better take time for ’em, honey, otherwise you’ll never grow.”

-Dr. Jack Finch, Go Set a Watchman

From the final stages of the campaign, through his victory speech Saturday night, Joe Biden’s message has been clear: whether you voted for him or not, he will serve you as President. It’s a classic unifying tenor that has marked the conclusion of many contentious elections, and in this moment it’s an important one: more than 70 million Americans voted for the President-elect’s opponent. This number, and the sheer magnitude of it, has baffled many, from talk show hosts to my very own parents. How could they vote for someone so repugnant? Why have they continued to stand by him through all the scandals and disgrace?

There were any number of reasons to vote for Donald Trump. I won’t pretend to know them all, but here are a few: there are legitimate conservatives who find Trump’s personal behavior uncouth, but are in it for judicial appointments, deregulation, and tax cuts; there are those who feel Trump speaks to issues in rural America with greater potency; there are those that fear more stringent rules or another economic shutdown under Biden’s coronavirus plan; there are those who are invested in America’s purported culture war, seeing demographic shifts, transgender rights, or abortion access as a threat to their way of life; and there are those who have taken support for the President as a part of their identity and see his success as theirs. It’s hard to separate these out — many of them are intertwined — but they’re not all that different than the reasons for voting that have defined American politics for decades. In fact, most have an inverse or corollary rationale for those in the Biden camp.

But my question is not “how could they bring themselves to vote for President Trump.” We’ve always been a bitterly divided nation, this result should have been expected by anyone with a penchant for history. My question is: how, in the face of this divide, am I supposed to build the bridges that I am being asked to build? Donald Trump’s supporters voted for an administration attempting to cut food assistance for millions of Americans— including people I know and care about. They voted for a party intent on undermining and overturning the Affordable Care Act, stripping the health insurance of millions of Americans — including people I know and care about. Their actions could have cost my generation the ability to hold climate change to a level below catastrophe, and still might if Democrats don’t win back the Senate. They did not passively ignore the suffering of my friends and neighbors, they actively sought to bring hardship unto them. I don’t know if malice was in their hearts, but what they voted for was real, tangible harm. How can I reconcile that? How can I look at people — many of whom I love and respect — and see them in the same light, knowing what their actions may have wrought? I don’t know how to expunge this vote from my impression of their character. This is my impasse.

There’s an argument that ignorance plays an outsize role, that we simply need to educate those that supported President Trump. The changes to SNAP were technocratic and didn’t receive much press, but the fight over ACA repeal (favored by a majority of Republicans)? Climate change (denied by a majority of Republicans)? Family separation (favored by a majority of Reublicans)? These are not hidden preferences, they are the openly stated policies and agenda of the Republican party and President Trump. Suggesting policy ignorance as a driving factor seems exactly like the liberal elitist condescension that has driven so many from the Democratic party. Even if it were the case, to what level does ignorance absolve them of their actions? We should empathize with those lead astray by misinformation, but each of us has a duty to walk into the voting booth knowing who is on the ballot and what they stand for— it’s a fundamental part of civic participation. A dereliction of that duty does not paint a much prettier picture.

There is a danger in claiming moral certitude, and I don’t want to impress that I have some sort of monopoly on morality, or suggest that those who support President Trump are morally depraved. Such logic is circular and often illiberal in its outcomes, and a similar line of attack was used against President-elect Biden in the Democratic primary. Claims about the morality of his moderation abounded, arguing that his healthcare plan wasn’t universal enough, his climate plan not ambitious enough. So I am not suggesting that support for President Trump is inherently and universally immoral, I am arguing that their vote puts them fundamentally at odds with my personal moral philosophy. Finding common ground — as we have all been urged to do — is immensely more difficult when things that are the bedrock of my ground are made conditional or called into question.

There is always a dilemma of where to draw the line on what should be an acceptable opinion to hold in a free and liberal democracy, and what is to be done in the case of an unacceptable opinion. It’s a predicament that dates back to our founding (see: slavery). The answer has changed over time, and the rearview mirror is often helpful. Should the almost ten million people who voted for George Wallace — of “segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever” fame — in 1968 be excepted from polite society? If they still espouse such views, certainly. Should the totality of their concerns be dismissed because the underlying premise of them is so deeply disgusting? That’s a more complicated question, but if you voted for George Wallace in 1968 and cannot recant (there should always be room for forgiveness and growth) then I assure you I want nothing to do with you.

Yet I believe that factory farming and capitalist meat consumption is deeply unethical, and almost every single one of my friends eat meat. I am able to reconcile that. I largely subscribe to Peter Singer’s philosophy of effective altruism, and don’t hold disdain for those in my life who don’t donate significant proportions of their income. I am certain that my own actions in some way contradict the morals of someone who cares deeply about me. What makes a vote for Trump different? Is it that it manifests harm in the lives of people I directly know? The very philosophical theories that I ostensibly believe tell me I should care similarly about the welfare of those outside my social circles. So is it a reaction based on the heightened emotions of the current moment? That’s probably a contributing factor, but it’s more about the real harm than this. If the stakes weren’t truly dire, I would be content to treat Trumpism and conservatism as satire (if you haven’t tried this, it is my greatest comedic joy). What does it say about ourselves if our forgiveness and acceptance is contingent on repentance? A greater deal than I think we’re willing to admit.

This essay has gotten a little in the clouds, I want to bring it back down to earth. How do I interact with the Trump supporters in my life? There’s a temptation to gloat, to dance on the grave. It tempts me too. But I think we all know that it’s counterproductive. It feels good, it may even feel justified (a perversion of justice at best), but it’s counterproductive. While the President and his allies are most certainly being sore losers, it does not necessitate that we be sore winners. At the end of the day, President Trump and his allies have a formidable voting coalition of 70 million, and frankly, whether we like it or not, we need to eat into it. Derision and contempt are antithetical to that project.

Ultimately, Trump supporters have the same rights and freedom as everyone else in America. They are governed and protected by the same laws (I will refrain from delving into the irony that many of Trump’s policies sought to create disproportionate impacts under the law and restrict these rights, but trust me, I recognize it). I wish them no harm and have no malicious intent towards them. They deserve to be treated with compassion and empathy, as do all people. But that’s all I have in the way of answers.

It’s not satisfying. Yes, I made you read 1,500 words just to not give you an answer to the central question. But I can’t tell you how to think about your friends and family who supported Donald Trump, because they’re all different: each and every one. Just as importantly, all of you are different. You have different morals and life experiences than me. You supported Joe Biden for different reasons (assuming you did, if you’re a non-voter or Trump supporter and have made it this far, I sincerely congratulate you). It is your choice on whether to continue to be friends with these people, whether to constructively engage with them or let that relationship wither. Sweeping generalizations cannot help you. If their vote for Trump drastically changes how you see them, I understand, and I think it should. But if its salvageable, it might just be worth salvaging.

For those of you who choose to engage, I will leave you with some advice. First, many folks I know are still stuck on how and why people voted for Trump. It’s worth exploring, but the answers may not satisfy you. Go in with open ears, even if you may not like what you hear. Second, if you’re going to engage folks, do it in good faith and do it in-person. Okay, given COVID, don’t do it in-person. But try to replicate the in-person interaction as best you can. Use Zoom or Facetime. Social media often brings out the worst in us, and even phone conversations miss the nuance of facial expressions. Arguments made in bad faith may make you feel good about painting them into a corner or polish your rhetorical repertoire, but it won’t teach you anything, and it won’t further the work of bringing them into the new American majority.

That’s it. That’s the best I’ve got. I realized about two-thirds of the way into writing this thing, that I still wasn’t sure how to handle the Trump supporters in my own life. Before 2016, I would have told you they’re good people with good values. They’ve still been good to me, but I don’t know what to tell you about their values. It’s going to require further reflection on my part, and if I want any better answers it will probably require some serious effort engagement. I think I’ll wait until January 20th to make any decisions on that front. In the mean time, enjoy victory, but try to put a quota on the number of times you play YG’s FDT in the company of your Trump-loving uncle.