They like to say our country is doomed.
At a Nov. 3 rally in New York, days before the 2024 presidential election, former President Donald Trump claimed that “if we keep going like this… we won’t have a country.” At the same rally, he argued that if Kamala Harris were to win the race, “she would get us into World War III.” At a town hall the week prior, Harris argued that Trump is a “fascist” who “admires dictators” and is a “danger to the well-being and security of the United States of America.” For at least a decade, it seems language like this has become more frequent. Listening to politicians or watching the news has become a barrage of warnings about America’s impending demise and our disintegrating social fabric. Despite the fear-mongering, the grand implosion of American society has yet to materialize — and the world still spins. This culture of catastrophizing, rather than galvanizing change, distracts us with manufactured divisions, contributes to polarization and entrenches hate in American society.
While partisan pessimism isn’t new, the level we’re currently seeing is a relatively recent phenomenon. Readers may remember the 2016 election cycle, when it wasn’t uncommon to hear people say they would move to Canada if Trump won the presidency. One commentator in The Guardian even forecasted that Trump’s election would usher in a new “age of endarkenment” and claimed that “racists and bigots everywhere will feel validated, vindicated — and mobilized.” Four years later, in the final weeks of the 2020 election, Trump claimed that if then-Vice President Joe Biden won, the suburbs would die, the economy would sink into the worst depression we have ever seen, police departments would cease to exist and the stock market would crash, among other dire predictions. Now, both party leaders labeled the other fascists, a far cry from the mutual respect observed in election cycles prior to 2016.
The reason for this trend is simple: it is politically effective. Both parties have realized that once they abandon civility, dire messaging becomes even more salient. Citizens are more likely to vote and donate if they believe that their livelihoods are under siege. The two major parties then use their opponents’ increasingly radical ideas as ammunition for their own partisan threats, creating a cycle of paranoia and fear. One 2015 study found that political messages centered on fear were twice as effective as those that used other tactics. For two shameless political bodies in a divided nation, fear-mongering seems like a no-brainer. This may help to explain why, as two writers from the American Enterprise Institute put it, “each party runs campaigns focused almost entirely on the faults of the other.” Scare tactics are easy. Convincing the electorate that your ideas are worthwhile is more of a challenge.
At face value, it seems as though hyperbolic rhetoric might come off as alienating and off-putting. The American people, however, have embraced it, leading to the first pitfall of fear-mongering: division. Americans seem to hate each other more now than at any other point in recent history. In a study by More in Common, researchers found that 86% of Republicans and 88% of Democrats thought of the opposing party as brainwashed, while 84% and 87% thought of the other party as hateful, respectively. To be more explicit, the study also found that 71% of Democrats and 89% of Republicans thought the other side was racist. This pervasive division stems from the so-called “Perception Gap,” in which both sides lack an understanding of the other side’s beliefs. These distortions are amplified by social media use and news consumption. In other words, as Americans take in higher doses of political messaging, our beliefs become more inaccurate and our hatred for those with whom we disagree deepens. Americans are content to hate. As Vice President-elect and Sen. JD Vance, R-Ohio, said in 2021, “Our people hate the right people.” The downside here is obvious: while catastrophizing may energize voters, it destroys our ability to compromise and fundamentally destabilizes our political climate.
Some may point to events such as the Jan. 6 insurrection as evidence that fear-mongering is warranted. I argue instead that fear is the fuel for the fire of such extremism. Rather than a response to genuine threats, Jan. 6 was a direct result of exaggerated, irresponsible and false claims that the 2020 election had been stolen and democracy was in danger, in addition to Trump’s grim forecast of a Biden presidency. By prioritizing sensationalism over honesty, politicians and the media transform abstract and baseless fears into dangerous incitement. This pattern isn’t limited to one side of the aisle. In an op-ed published in The Fulcrum prior to the 2024 election, one Amherst College professor discussed the possibility of refusing to transfer power to Trump if he won the presidency a second time. He cited political philosopher Michael Walzer’s influential “dirty hands” theory, which stipulates that leaders must sometimes take gravely immoral actions for the sake of the greater good. This argument exemplifies how the fear of opposition rule can lead individuals on either side of the aisle to justify extremism, ultimately taking the very actions they claim to be fighting to prevent. Modern rhetoric has led us to conflate our partisan ambitions with abstract greater good, blinding us to the cases in which the two don’t overlap.
This troubling development is reflected in studies conducted by the Democracy Fund, which found that 80% of Americans claim to support democracy. Still, only 27% uphold democratic norms consistently when they conflict with partisan loyalties.
To move beyond the toxic partisanship of this rhetoric, we must develop a mindset that values engagement over gridlock. As David Brooks argues in a recent New York Times column, many Americans’ disdain for their political rivals is so ardent that a divided federal government — despite its relative inability to solve problems — is now viewed as the “least bad option.” Yet another unfortunate consequence of intense political rhetoric is that our hatred blinds us to what truly matters. We needlessly consider the other side to be so dangerous and un-American that we would rather have immobilized leadership than any degree of opposition control. While we may disagree with the other party’s methods to address our challenges, their efforts — however misguided we may feel they are — are still preferable to stagnation. The right should rest assured that had Harris won, she would not have killed the American dream, or as Senator Tim Scott, R-S.C., put it, carried out a “blueprint to ruin America.” And while Trump’s pre-election rhetoric may have been alarming, realize that our democratic system is robust and its defenders are numerous. Both parties and the plurality of their voters simply want a more prosperous America. Wake up to these truths, and the future won’t feel so bleak.
As cries of wolf echo, Americans are preparing for a fight — when we need to build bridges.
Opinion articles represent the views of their author(s), which are not necessarily those of The Dartmouth.
