Kamala Harris Is Not Perfect—But We Have to Beat Trump!

I am, of course, deeply uneasy about this election. I know that I am not alone. And, like millions of others, I remain dispirited and sad about Donald Trump’s enduring popularity—even as he shows us, more and more brazenly every day, exactly who he is. And, like millions of others, I am terrified by the prospect second Trump presidency. And I remain dispirited and sad to live in a country that just might elect Donald Trump president—again.

My hope has been tested—seriously tested—but I remain hopeful.

Someone said of Trump a few years back: "He's like a toddler with a gun." My partner Katherine's response: "I see him more as the nation's drunken, abusive spouse, insisting we put the kids in the car and go for a drive with him..." Indeed.

We watch Trump and wonder: How can this be happening? How did this cruel, misogynistic idiot win a presidential election? How, after all of these years of brazenly and transparently being who he is, can he remain a compelling candidate for President of the United States? How can this happen in America?"

It is, of course, about voter suppression, the growing power of dark money, Fox News’s brilliant, relentless lie machine, the profound limits of the Democratic Party, and the reactionary absurdity of the Electoral College. But it is way more than that. In 2020, 74 million US voters voted for Trump. And, after nearly four years of mind-boggling incompetence and cruelty, and four more years of being an relentlessly and increasingly revolting version of himself, 44% of Americans (including most white Americans) "approve" of Trump.

Kamala Harris is not a perfect candidate. The Democratic Party is deeply flawed and limited. And inequalities are deeply rooted in our institutions. But we have to beat Trump.

The sad fact is that many of Trump’s supporters—most, perhaps—vote for him not in spite of who he is, but because of who he is. This Trumpian tragedy is doubly tragic because it makes so much sense. We can decide that Trump is an anomaly. But, in fact, Trump looks and acts a lot like America. He personifies, evokes, celebrates and embraces a dark but essential part of the “American Story.”

Trump is... Loud. Arrogant. Ignorant. Entitled. Racist. Violent. Misogynistic. Homophobic. Orientalist. Self-centered. Self-important. Idiotic. Punitive. Full of shit. A glutton who whines that he is not getting his fair share. An assaulter who insists that nothing happened (in fact he is the real victim!). A liar who has no interest in uncovering or facing the truth. A liar who vilifies anyone who tells the truth; anyone who holds up a mirror to him. He is a perpetrator who effortlessly and shamelessly engages in denial, erasure, and the re-writing of history. He is a victimizer, and a victim-blamer. He is grandiose and vacuous. He's gotten rich on the un(der)paid labor of disempowered workers—human beings he sees as disposable "takers" and "losers," and by ripping off his suppliers, and claims that his wealth is about his unique awesomeness. He claims credit for things he hasn't done. He's megalomaniac who uses his power to expand his power and wealth. His relentless pursuit of his interests requires no justification. He is a rapacious accumulator of wealth who happily and insistently works people to death. A money-grubber who happily sends disenfranchised workers into the meat packing plant, because our sausages (and the meat industry's profits) matter more than the lives of people of color we can't see. He is indifferent to a million Covid deaths in the USA, and millions more around the globe. "Freedom and prosperity," after all, comes at a price.

Like America, Trump is sure that he is #1 at everything. Like America, Trump insists—with a toxic mix of indifference, ignorance and grandiosity—that "no one" has "ever" done what he has done. Trumpian Exceptionalism. That's why the rules don't apply to him.

Like America.

Trump has incited and defended white supremacists and bragged about sexual assault. He has incited a coup, and he has implored his followers to turn their rage (and violence) on immigrants and people of color. He has separated kids and parents and put the kids in cages. He has pardoned his crooked friends and demanded that his critics and political rivals be imprisoned. He has lied a million times—often with shocking brazenness. He doesn't care. Cruelty and cruel indifference are his brand.

This is from the obituary of Professor Scott Lilienfeld, a psychologist who, before passing away on September of 2020, studied psychopathology, among other things. Professor Lilienfeld and his colleagues, the New York Times reports, identified "three underlying personality features that psychopaths share: fearless dominance, meanness, and impulsivity. The psychopath does what he or she wants, without anxiety, regret or regard for the suffering of others."

If I had to describe Donald Trump in two sentences, these would do.

If I had to write a biography of America, these sentences could be part of the first chapter.

This dark, violent and essential part of America has been "hiding" in plain sight every second of every day for 400 years. When, every so often, it becomes undeniable—the torture at Abu Ghraib, the murder of George Floyd, or one more racist mass shooting, for example—our national narrators insist that it is a deeply troubling anomaly. A shocking—and, perhaps, unprecedented!—example of precisely what "America" is not. But, in fact, plunder, racism, misogyny, violence, denial and erasure are essential and long-lived parts of the biography of the United States.

Trump is, perhaps, in some important ways, unusual, extreme and anomalous. But 44%—including most white voters—"approve" of Trump. White men voted for Trump by a two to one ratio in 2020.

This struggle is grueling and, often, disheartening because there are, of course, some very well-funded people who are determined to bend the arc of history toward oppression. And 44% approve.

But beside, inside, and despite our dark past and present, the U.S. is overflowing with love, creativity, generosity, empathy, solidarity, humility and possibility. And this has (and we have) the power to change everything.

Our dark, violent, exploitative, hidden history is—of course, and thank goodness—only part of the story. There is also the part of the American biography that has given us Toni Morrison, rock and roll, Bob Dylan, Maxine Hong Kingston, Walt Whitman, Langston Hughes, Black Lives Matter, W.E.B. DuBois, Jack Kerouac, Joe Hill, James Baldwin, Dr. King, Aretha, Howard Zinn, Julius Erving, Paul Robeson, Fannie Lou Hamer, Woody Guthrie, Sherilynn Ifill, and Star Tavern in Orange, NJ. There is the part that has given us millions of heroic healers, and millions of heroic organizers and activists for voting rights, fair housing, economic equality, environmental justice, work place safety, affordable education, LGBTQ rights, accessible public spaces, de-militarization, and educational opportunity, and against war, racism, sexual violence, police violence, border violence, and the destruction of the planet. This gives me hope.

Our violent, oppressive history is embedded in our economic, political and social institutions. The arc of history has to be bent—actively and intentionally—toward justice. The arc of history bends as the result of energetic, fearless, heroic and hopeful struggle. This struggle is grueling and, often, disheartening because there are, of course, some very well-funded people who are determined to bend the arc of history toward oppression. And 44% approve.

Let’s vote. Let's recognize and reckon with our dark history. And let's struggle heroically and humbly, and let's collaborate in inspired and inspiring ways, to bend the arc of history toward justice—as so many others have before us.

I am hopeful.

Kamala Harris is not a perfect candidate. The Democratic Party is deeply flawed and limited. And inequalities are deeply rooted in our institutions.

But we have to beat Trump.