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

