This election is about fortitude and endurance.
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The Trump campaign is trying to turn the electoral process into a moral swamp. Voters are going to have to pace themselves to get to November.
First, here are three new stories from The Atlantic:
Moral Zombies
The 2024 election has become a kind of waking nightmare in which many of us stare at Donald Trump as he unleashes some new attack on any number of targets: a judge’s daughter, immigrants, the rule of law, American national security, the Constitution. And we blink and shake our heads, stunned to think that many of our fellow citizens are eager to put this autocratic ignoramus back in the White House.
In a more normal time in American life, people had to leave politics for having a nanogram of Trump’s baggage. Think of the late Senator Thomas Eagleton, the 1972 Democratic vice-presidential pick who had to drop out of the race because he’d been treated for depression. The idea—how old-fashioned it seems now—was that America could not risk any possible mental-health issues not only in the president, but even in the person next in the line of succession. Today, however, we have a former president who exhibits all kinds of signs of a disordered personality—and yet the big worry among many voters (and too much of the media) is whether his opponent is missing a step because he’s roughly 42 months older than Trump.
All of this is enervating and exhausting. But that’s the point: Trump is succeeding because he is, to use Steve Bannon’s infamous expression, seeking to “flood the zone with shit.” Trump’s opponents are flummoxed by how he provokes one new outrage on top of another, and each time they believe he’s finally—finally—gone too far. Bombarding the public space with deranged statements and dangerous threats, however, is not a mistake; it’s a strategy.
By overwhelming people with the sheer volume and vulgarity of his antics, Trump and his team are trying to burn out the part of our brains that can discern truth from fiction, right from wrong, good from evil. His campaign’s goal is to turn voters into moral zombies who can no longer tell the difference between Stormy and Hunter or classified documents and personal laptops, who cannot parse what a “bloodbath” means, who no longer have the ability to be shocked when a political leader calls other human beings “animals” and “vermin.”
Trump isn’t worried that all of this will cause voters to have a kind of mental meltdown: He’s counting on it. He needs ordinary citizens to become so mired in moral chaos and so cognitively paralyzed that they are unable to comprehend the disasters that would ensue if he returns to the White House.
So far, the Trump strategy is working. Every few weeks, polls indicate that the race between Trump and President Joe Biden is a toss-up. And millions of Americans are in that political fugue state called “undecided,” immobilized as if the events of the past eight years never happened.
So what can an ordinary voter do to maintain engagement with the election while not turning their cerebral cortex into a wet, steaming mess of fused wiring? The way to withstand Trump’s daily assaults on our senses is to regard them with fortitude, and even some stoicism. He’s trying to shake our confidence in democracy and basic decency; remaining engaged in civic life, calmly and without stooping to such tactics and rhetoric, is the superpower of every citizen in a democracy.
I understand why people might flinch at this advice. My wife, like so many of our friends, now reflexively changes the channel whenever Trump appears. Human beings can endure only so much of his disjointed affect and singsongy taunts, especially while knowing that the voters might roll the dice again and give this offensive man direct control of hundreds of nuclear weapons along with one more chance to destroy the Constitution.
But to ignore Trump is a mistake. To dismiss him as an incompetent clown is dangerous. Voters who care about democracy, who care about the future of freedom in America and around the world, must steel themselves to stay in the political process. We do not need to explode over every attempt to bait and troll us. Instead, we can let every one of his manic outbursts increase our resolve to speak clearly and plainly in defense of our system of government and our democratic culture—especially to family and friends who might be treading water in the ever-filling Trump septic pool.
Some of you are probably saying that this is pretty easy advice for me to give, since my professional obligations require me to watch Trump day in and day out. I am not telling you to glue your eyes to the TV. (Indeed, I have some advice about balancing your news diet in today’s PS.) Think of how previous generations engaged with politics: by reading a newspaper, watching an hour of news, and talking with friends and neighbors and other citizens in their community. When I was a boy, Americans managed to confront immense questions of national importance without withdrawing into comfort zones and information silos.
Now we face an existential threat to our democracy. Perhaps we might think about how to revive the civic practices and sensibilities—especially staying informed without becoming overwhelmed or falling into despair—that got us through those earlier crises.
You’ll probably be even more chagrined that I’m giving this advice even as I’m ducking out of writing the Daily for the rest of the month. I promise, however, that I’m not going on hiatus or giving up and heading to the beach—especially since it’s been so damn cold here on the East Coast. Instead, I’ve been put on some writing assignments that are going to take me away from the weekly rigor of this newsletter, and I need to do some research and travel. I think you’ll be pleased with the folks who are coming in to temporarily replace me. (Let me just say that at least one of them will help supply your regular servings of curmudgeonly grousing.)
I’ll be back in May, at which point we’ll still have six months to go before Election Day. If we care about democracy, we need to be examples to our fellow citizens about staying focused and engaged in our political process. We must also think about how to serve as assured opponents—and maybe as just the smallest spur to the conscience—to those around us who have decided that cruelty, autocracy, and cultish tribalism are more important than our constitutional order.
Related:
Today’s News
Dispatches
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Evening Read
A Secret Code May Have Been Hiding in Classical Music for 200 Years
By S. I. Rosenbaum
In the spring of 1825, Ludwig van Beethoven was struck by a gut ailment so severe that he thought he might die. That summer, after he recovered, he returned to the string quartet he’d been writing before his illness—Quartet No. 15 in A Minor, Op. 132—and added a new segment inspired by his survival …
The Opus 132 that the world came to know was not exactly the Opus 132 that Beethoven handed to his copyist. The composer littered his original score with unusual markings that the copyist simply ignored … None of these marks made it into even the first clean copy, let alone the published version. Almost no one would see those marks in the roughly 200 years after Beethoven first scribbled them down.
Read the full article.
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P.S.
Many people assume that folks like me who write about politics are news junkies. They think we dive into the cable shows in the morning and lull ourselves to sleep at night with the latest podcasts. Yes, I pay more attention to the news (and to books about politics, and other sources) than do most people, and sometimes—during a crisis or a big event when I know I’ll have to write—I do, in fact, just stay glued to my TV and my laptop. But otherwise, that level of news consumption is not healthy. I don’t do it, and neither should you.
You might think that, come 5 p.m., I am immersed in cable news. (Hey, sometimes I’m on those shows, and sure, there are days when I watch for hours.) But let me put in a word here for indulging in regular mental breaks. In my case, as many of you know, that means vintage television: Although I enjoy catching up on the news over dinner, more often you’ll find me chuckling with my wife over the clipped, staccato dialogue of Adam-12 or having a laugh with a rerun of Cheers. (“Hey, what’s happening, Norm?” “Well, it’s a dog-eat-dog world, Sammy, and I’m wearing Milk-Bone underwear.”)
If you’re going to make it to November, stay up to date, but don’t forget to unplug now and then. (Reading The Atlantic regularly, of course, is a great way to stay informed.) Few of us are required to have instantaneous knowledge of the day’s events; we can catch up on the news in various ways once or twice a day. Give yourself a break. You’re going to need it.
See you in May.
— Tom
Stephanie Bai contributed to this newsletter.
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