The reason Trump won is on the margins.
It’s because those smart, well-educated people who went to those universities like some of my friends with degrees from Penn, Berkeley and University of Texas and high-level personal business success thought Trump “wouldn’t be that bad.”
Ask Damocles, mate. He’s not stupid. He was just wrong. He couldn’t bear the thought of some of the leftier, hypocritical, hysterical impractical aspect of liberalism winning. He thought anti-Trumpism was an overreaction, a fantasy. And so did some of my pals.
Trump couldn’t have won with just his base. It took the educated as well, who rathonalised, ignored or denied the threat.
But they fucked up. Now none will admit it, and that’s what angers and frightens me. They’re ashamed or embarrassed or don’t want to give others who argued with them the satisfaction of an “I told you so.” They have no courage. None. But that’s the first step to healing, right? Admittance. If one can admit one has fucked up, one can start fresh and clean — beginning with “How can we work together to solve the problem at hand now that we all agree it’s a problem?”
But they won’t. They haven’t. They may never.
But that’s as maybe. All of us now have to live with this fallout. But they have to live with the knowledge — painful as I’m sure it is to admit — that they enabled it and stood by and watched, too afraid to hold their hands up, and too afraid to act. That’s all we have left now — we have to display our own courage to make up for their lack of it.
Good luck to us all.