Last night, I spent 90 minutes of my comparatively few moments on this mortal coil watching what many people on the Internet seem to believe was the worst debate in the history of American political debates. For an hour and a half, Donald Trump and Joe Biden bantered back and forth in the kind of ridiculous blather usually confined to nursing homes and the Eighth Circle of Hell (no that’s not a throwaway line, it’s bolgia 5, for you Dante aficionados), exchanging barbs about their golf scores and who’s the weaker Palestinian. Given that some of you actually want to hear how it went, here’s the breakdown, and then we can get into the actual message to be taken from this.
Trump’s team pulled off a win yesterday. Of this, there can be no doubt. The expert handlers at the Big Orange circus reined in their beast properly, with Trump giving surprisingly cogent and electable responses to questions on legitimately fragile topics for his campaign, including a masterful response to queries about January 6th and a less masterful but workable narrative on abortion. As my friend Dace Potas writes at USA Today, “Why can’t Republicans always get this version of Trump? If Trump can consistently bring out this side of himself in the next debate and leading up to the election, some Republicans reluctant to vote for him may be more willing to stomach it.” Trump was, as GenZers say, locked in. He actually looked prepared, by and large dropping the ridiculous schtick that makes appearances at CPAC and elsewhere in favor of a more serious, electable persona. Yes, I’m aware it’s completely fake and will be dropped the second it’s not beneficial to him. But… at least he prepared for the debate.
One of the most annoying things about doing a debate is the question of what to do when your opponent is speaking. Strategic tip: staring agog and wide-eyed at the camera like an owl who just had a glaucoma air test is not a winning move. Apparently, no one gave Biden the memo on this. I will not be commenting further on this — Biden’s performance was a disaster, an affront to the dignity (or what used to be the dignity) of his office, and a profound middle finger to the American people, virtually all of whom could have outperformed their president in the taxing endeavor of looking alive for 90 minutes.
However. Speaking of those American people, the ones who actually make America an amazing place and one of the great pillars of the world. My social media feed has been wall-to-wall coverage of the most biting sort of cynicism, some of which I have admittedly found amusing and accurate. But I’ve been thinking about this all day (that’s what I get for not running a debate recap the night of and actually hanging out with real people instead). We are less than one week away from July 4th. It’s the holiday that celebrates more than an abstract concept of independence.
There is no doubt that the years directly before and after 1776 were far darker days than the ones in which we currently live. We weren’t a world superpower. We were a fledgling group of ex-English rebels and traitors taking on what was then the world superpower with nothing on our side except a will of iron and an idea—this crazy idea that human beings were worthy of liberty and freedom instead of a lifetime spent as a cog in a totalitarian machine. Those were dark days—especially for the non-white and the non-male and the non-landowner.
248 years later, we’re in dark days again. It truly isn’t morning in America—this crazy experiment in liberty’s in serious trouble. I don’t deny that at all. But please, for the love of all that’s holy, let’s all stop pretending like the country’s doomed. I’m especially thinking of people my age. I’m 22. It’s incredibly arrogant to bathe in cynicism at my own leaders and act like there’s nothing I can do to better my life and surroundings. Did we all just forget about the progress and promise of America the minute a few (dark and large) clouds came over the sun?
I’m all for a good sarcastic pile-on session. They’re actually pretty fun to write. But let’s not let our sarcasm blind us to the undeniable fact that this is a great country—and who really makes it great.
I’ve been at a conference all week, and last night I had a fantastic conversation with a pastor from the former Soviet bloc about totaliarianism, Solzhenitsyn, and the decline of America. He reminded me near the end of the conversation that the people who made it through the horrors of the Soviet Union in the best psychological shape were the ones who kept their eyes fixed on the things they could control: family, friend groups, and social groups that created meaning and camaraderie. It’s not a new insight—everyone from modern think tank scholars to concentration camp survivors have pointed this out. But if that’s the advice that works in the deep valley moments of human history, maybe it’s advice that works in the shallow valley moments like now, too.
America was never great because our leaders made us great from the top down. It was always great because our personal resolve made it great, the personal resolve to do everything from vanquishing tyranny to just making the choice to not respond in anger over political differences or give in to the cancer of defeatism. That’s not a sexy message. But we’re not in a sexy moment as a country either. As someone who loves sarcasm, we need more than just sarcasm right now. We need uncommon and unsexy grit and resolve.
Americans are gritty people—our stubbornness and our determination to battle on against impossible odds is what makes us who we are. When our leaders fail to hold up those standards, we have two options: 1) whine and complain in the faux solace of apathy, or 2) push forward on the crazy bet that all of this is going to turn out okay. One guess as to which of those two is more beneficial to your immortal soul.