Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Friday, November 11, 2016
LAURA SCHINAGLE
Managing Editor
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Ann Arbor, MI 48109
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SHOHAM GEVA
Editor in Chief
CLAIRE BRYAN
and REGAN DETWILER
Editorial Page Editors
Unsigned editorials reflect the official position of the Daily’s Editorial Board.
All other signed articles and illustrations represent solely the views of their authors.
Carolyn Ayaub
Claire Bryan
Regan Detwiler
Brett Graham
Caitlin Heenan
Jeremy Kaplan
Ben Keller
Minsoo Kim
Madeline Nowicki
Anna Polumbo-Levy
Jason Rowland
Ali Safawi
Kevin Sweitzer
Rebecca Tarnopol
Ashley Tjhung
Stephanie Trierweiler
EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS
I
am a political junkie. I live and
breathe for a constant stream
of news and punditry from
a variety of network
programs, newspaper
articles and podcasts. I
even follow polling data
and aggregate websites
like an addicted sports
gambler.
Yet
this
Election Day, I decided
to
distance
myself
from every form of
social media and piece
of news, turned on
Netflix and ended up
understanding something more
about myself. On election night,
detached from social media and
blind to the results, I fully came
to recognize a sad similarity that I
share with our now President-elect
Donald Trump.
Not only do I live for politics, I
also live for social media. I almost
inherently have to come to crave
the constant gratification that my
online presence guarantees me.
Within this university’s social
setting, that necessity to be part
of something — or to fit in — is a
driving factor in my constant use of
social media and my pathetic desire
to paint the picture of happiness to
others through the lifeless form of
the internet.
On election night, in order to
distract myself during the results,
I began watching the new season
of
the
Netflix
psychological
thriller “Black Mirror” — and
terrifyingly — the absence of any
form of social media that night was
accompanied by the first episode
of this season dealing with social
media gratification.
I watched a woman living in a
world in which social desirability
is rated on a numerical scale that
everyone can see. She strives to
reach the upper tiers of society
by appeasing other higher-rated
members of society through the
most artificial and empty displays
of
human
emotion.
Human
interaction
finally
becomes
artificial, and people essentially only
see what they want to see. Without
giving away too much, her lust for
social desirability backfires, and
she experiences the utter turmoil
of losing her artificially constructed
life
full
of
fake
smiles,
frappuccinos,
Instagram posts and
totally
fabricated
“happiness.”
When the episode
ended, I was fairly
certain the writers had
somehow
recorded
the anxious thoughts
in
my
mind
and
transcribed them into
a script. Recently, I
have come to understand that I
have had a disturbing necessity
for gratification through forms of
social media and had constructed a
false image of who I desired to be.
The anxiety and stress I induced
on myself since arriving to college
pushed me to attempt to form a
false narrative that only I knew
was fake — and I thought it would
somehow grant me “happiness.” I
had this belief that if I fit in this way,
dress this way, drink this much,
that these artificially constructed
traits would form into an equation
equaling happiness.
Yet the turmoil of constantly
using separate forms of social
media to shape a “happy” presence
within this hyper-connected world
is downright exhausting. Twitter is
there to let people know what you’re
doing and what you’re thinking;
Facebook to make sure you don’t
miss out on parties or events;
Instagram to plaster your life for
others to see as a fairy tale; and my
favorite, Snapchat, to remind others
that you did, in fact, drink copious
amounts of alcohol and danced like
a moron at Rick’s last night because
you are fun!
More disturbing, my constant
anxiety robbed me of time I spent
by myself. I lost who the actual
“me” was to some extent. Any
moment alone was accompanied by
the rushing fear of missing out — a
feeling that was immediately dulled
and delayed by my use of social
media. My outward personality of
being outgoing, funny and friendly
shattered so easily from a mere
hour of loneliness. I had created
someone I was not.
Sitting there alone in my
apartment during election night,
all of my thoughts I have had on
my pathetic pursuit of happiness
were suddenly paired with the
idea of a President Trump. I
identified with him.
And I would like to thank him,
because through him, I can see that
he is the physical manifestation
of vanity and constant image-
building. He is nothing. Yet he
has constructed this idea around
himself that he is the greatest,
richest and happiest man alive. His
outward appearance of dressing in
a suit, attempting to look like he’s
only 38 at the age of 70, plastering
his name on everything he touches,
having the “best” of everything
and most importantly, using his
celebrity and fame to make sure
everyone sees how amazing his life
is. His sense of self is so weak and
fragile that he needs the constant
gratification of millions of people
to support his pathetic sense of ego.
And that is so sad. He is
obviously a horribly sad man and
nothing — not even the presidency
— will satisfy his bottomless hunger
for social gratification. He is an
endless cycle of attempting to fill a
hole in his heart with everything
that money can buy: fame, material
goods, the Oval Office.
To some very minor point, I can
identify with that endless struggle
to somehow “be content” or
satisfied. Yet today I have distanced
myself from my constant obsession
and use of social media as a
method of achieving “happiness.” I
have found other things within my
life that every once in while come
together in certain ways to make
me feel joyous. My highs get high
and my lows get low. I feel human.
Now, I look at a man we will
call our president — a man who
has literally everything in the
world — and all I can see in him
is utter depression, emptiness
and sadness.
The republic will stand
A
t first I was confused.
So confused it made
me want to go to sleep
and wake up in a world that
made
more
sense.
Then I was scared
for
a
long
time.
But after hours of
restless thought and
a series of scattered
conversations, I think
I understand a bit
more what happened
on Tuesday night,
and why. So now, I’m
angry.
Let’s
start
with
the basics. It’s important to note
that not everybody who cast
their ballots for Donald Trump
did so because they like Donald
Trump. Some do, and, in many
of those cases, the long string
of descriptors and indictments
you’ve likely seen in a slew
of wordy, didactic Facebook
statuses
about
Trump’s
horribleness, is deserved. But,
in fact, when asked by the Pew
Research Center in late October,
51 percent of Trump supporters
responded
that,
more
than
anything else, they were voting
against Hillary Clinton.
There were Trump voters
in all 50 states who cast their
ballots not because they were
ignorant of the major flaws in
their candidate or agreed with
the terrible things he has said
and done. They voted in spite of
that, looking past the obvious
and abundant negatives and
seeing the potential for change.
They did what a lot of liberals
and Bernie Sanders supporters
did when they decided to “come
home” and support a Democratic
nominee with a history of
scandal and distrust of the media,
whose views differed from their
own. So thinking about Trump
supporters as a horde of hateful,
uneducated white supremacists
and xenophobes is harmful to
the conversation. Those people
exist (and thrive) in his camp and
for that there is no excuse, but
they alone did not deliver him
an electoral victory. Posting
a Facebook status instructing
anyone who voted for Trump
to unfriend you in an attempt
to retreat even further into
your liberal bubble is harmful
to the conversation.
In
Pennsylvania,
Ohio,
Wisconsin and Michigan, white
working-class voters had the
choice between a candidate
they
despised,
viewed
as
untrustworthy
and
who
to
them represented more of the
same, and a wild
card who presented
an
opportunity
for
change.
It
is
absolutely essential
to understand their
point of view rather
than run from them
or call them names
in order to ensure
that
this
never
happens again.
In the Democratic
nominee,
from
the
very
beginning, these voters saw an
embodiment of establishment
politics that was not listening to
them. Mitt Romney and George
Bush’s GOP was the party of the
wealthy, of young professionals
and small businessmen who
shared some of their core values
but failed to bear the mantle of
the working class. Meanwhile,
President
Barack
Obama’s
coalition was composed of young
people, African Americans and
Latinos. For all intents and
purposes, the white working-
class voter was forgotten and
left out. Then Donald Trump
descended from an escalator
and gave them a voice. You may
find irony, as I do, in the fact
that a man who has spent his
life ripping off contractors and
litigating his way out of paying
workers is now their champion.
But in Trump, they feel heard.
On Tuesday night, they made it
clear that the Democratic Party
cannot win by simply rebuilding
the Obama coalition time and
again while losing touch with
the white working class.
So when I say that I’m angry,
I don’t mean that I blame Trump
supporters, without discretion
and across the board, for the
next four years. I disagree
profoundly with the choice these
voters made, but I’m beginning
to understand more and more
why they made it.
I cannot adequately express
my anger, however, with the
Democratic
Party.
I
am
a
registered Democrat, I have
campaigned
and
volunteered
for Democrats, and my room is
littered with T-shirts, stickers
and
posters
in
support
of
Democrats. But I will happily
join the millions of liberals
across the country who are
saying, in no uncertain terms,
that our party failed us. No one
could have seen this coming? If
a political party cannot organize
to defeat the least qualified and
most disliked candidate in the
history of presidential politics
(not to mention that it cannot
obtain a majority in either house
of Congress), what purpose does
that party serve me?
One can speculate about what
would have happened had Bernie
Sanders or Joe Biden been the
nominee, but Jan. 20 is not all
that far away and we have bigger
fish to fry, so hindsight can wait.
Here I am, trying to understand
what happened a little more
today than I did yesterday,
absolutely
furious
with
my
party and terrified what the
next four years will hold. So let’s
start with the basics.
Liberals
are
no
longer
burdened with the defense of the
Clintons or NAFTA or the emails
or the neoliberalist policies of
the 1990s. Finally.
There
is
an
enormous
population of white working-
class voters who feel like they
haven’t been heard, and it’s time
to find a way to bring them into
the fold, not because it’ll make a
winning coalition, but because
those people are hurting and it’s
the right thing to do.
There are at least two long
years of being in the minority
ahead, and names on Capitol Hill
such as Sanders and Warren,
Harris and Booker have work
to do — filibusters to hold, aisles
to reach across and moral high
grounds to take.
In the most immediate future,
we have to make people in our
lives who have been shaken to
the core by this election feel less
alone. Tell them that Trump
voters aren’t all racists and
bigots, and that the republic will
stand, by sheer will if nothing
else. Liberals and progressives
are not all moving to Canada.
We’re staying right here to make
sure that this country does not
lose the progress that has been
made, drawing lines in the
sand, saying that civil rights and
human rights and health care
and the environment and the
safety of friends and neighbors
are non-negotiable. Fired up,
ready to go.
Brett Graham can be reached at
btgraham@umich.edu.
BRETT GRAHAM | COLUMN
Trump’s social media facade
MICHAEL MORDARSKI | COLUMN
MICHAEL
MORDARSKI
AARON SANDEL | CONTACT AARON AT ASANDEL@UMICH.EDU
BRETT
GRAHAM
Michael Mordarski can be reached
at mmordars@umich.edu.
”
— President Barack Obama speaking to Americans at the White House on
Thursday, after a meeting with President-elect Donald Trump.
“
NOTABLE QUOTABLE
I believe it is important for all of us, regardless of
party and regardless of political preferences, to
now come together, work together, to deal with
the many challenges that we face.
Y
esterday our country got
the first glimpse of a Trump
presidency.
He
spoke
about infrastructure spending, a
conservative court and the need to
come together as a nation. He named
his energy and environmental policy
transition teams, including a long-
standing climate change denier.
We also saw the pain throughout
campus and, on social media, of our
generation. Many of us feel a deep,
inescapable sense of loss. It’s not
because our team (i.e., supporters
of Clinton, progressives) lost just
like the Clevland Indiands lost
the World Series, as our new
Regent Ron Weiser suggested
yesterday at a Ford School of
Public Policy panel yesterday.
Part of this pain is due to a
feeling of uncertainty. Like many
of my classmates at the Ford School
of Public Policy, I’ve wondered if
the election is a referendum on
public policy. After all, Trump’s
team offered almost no policy
papers, yet he commandingly won.
Other students, in the social and
environmental sciences, are asking
similar questions. What we study
is a reflection of who we are: our
values, background and aspirations.
Acknowledging this uncertainty,
however, does little to lessen the
pain. What’s grinding away at many
of us is a loss of hope that inequalities
would decrease, and injustices would
become less common. This loss is
seemingly unavoidable, both general
and intimate.
Earlier this fall, I confided to
a classmate in a policy course on
values and ethics that I feel deeply
uncomfortable with my own white
male privilege. I benefit from things
that I shouldn’t. Research shows I’m
more likely to get a job because of my
name. I’m less likely to be pulled over
while driving. I get the benefit of the
doubt — for example, when walking
at night, returning a purchase or
asking for feedback. And now, with
an elitist white male in the White
House who has repeatedly put
down women, minorities, the
disabled and the poor, this inequity,
it seems, will become even more
pervasive and damaging.
What is most distressing is
knowing this unfairness affects
aspirations, dreams and ambition.
After Obama’s first election, we
celebrated that children of color
now had a marker of what’s truly
possible for them. It seemed that an
“aspiration gap” — a gap that hinders
the disadvantaged from pursuing
their hopes — would begin to close.
Many of us on campus have
intimately heard, seen and felt this
loss: of classmates of color trying
to explain to younger siblings that
the election isn’t a reflection of
our country’s belief in them; of
immigrants having lost a sense
of home, now feeling unsafe and
unwelcome; of daughters, classmates
and friends seeing a leader of the free
world who has repeatedly objectified,
demeaned and assaulted women.
How can we begin to move
forward, then?
It’s on all of us — young, old,
progressive and conservative — to
see those most affected through
this. In my case, to assure every
female classmate and friend that
Trump does not reflect my gender
values, and that I will do my best to
stand up for them. To assure people
of color that social justice will not
become a “backburner” issue. To
make every person feel welcome,
valued and empowered, every day.
As the election neared, I spent
hours canvassing Ann Arbor to
get out the vote. On Sunday night,
a resident approached me as I was
walking in between houses. She
offered a story and a reminder, one
that may help all of us.
She pointed across the street,
where neighboring houses each
had a sign: one for Trump, one for
Clinton. The Trump supporter is a
90-year-old man living by himself,
she told me. It was his second sign.
Weeks earlier, the first was torn
apart at night and left on his lawn.
In response, his neighbor — the
Clinton supporter — immediately
cleaned up the mess and purchased
a new Trump sign for him.
She said the story was a reminder
that Democrats and Republicans are
on the same team, one that is greater
than politics. Every four years, one
party becomes the first string, the
other the second string. This changes,
in cycles, in response to events and in
light of candidate popularity. Both,
however, contribute to the team’s
success. Both must support each
other, she said.
We’re all on the same team —
the privileged and the vulnerable,
the wealthy and the indigent,
progressives and conservatives,
Trump,
Bernie
and
Clinton
supporters. Acknowledging this,
now, is painful. But if we keep
this in mind when standing up for
others and engaging with opposing
viewpoints, perhaps, we’ll grow
out of this challenging campaign
and election.
Recognizing our team
Anthony Cozart is a first-year
graduate student in the Ford School .
ANTHONY COZART | OP-ED
ANTHONY COZART