I’ve been thinking a lot this week about presidents in the stories we tell. I love what I do because I get to create pieces of art that, with any luck, could become a reference point for someone to make sense of our world. Cultural touchstones in art are important because they reinforce or illuminate our cultural and social values, and we can use them for growth, to chart a path forward, or to find it again when we’ve lost our way.
One of the things I love about stories is we can look at a protagonist, acknowledge their flaws, and root for them to use their strengths to defeat the antagonist. More than that, the heroes we cast in our stories reveal the ideals we hold for our own values. We recognize them as the good guys not because we’re told they’re the good guys but because we see the good in them. We can examine the aspects that make them protagonists or heroes, and we can see in them a kind of reflection of that which we hold to be good.
We can look to President Whitmore played by Bill Pullman in Independence Day to give us hope in the darkest of times when all seems hopeless and lost. We can look to President Beck played by Morgan Freeman in Deep Impact to help us face the worst fate imaginable and to do it all with that voice that makes us feel wise and like everything is going to be okay. We can look to Dave Kovic played by Kevin Kline in Dave to cut through the bullshit, make us laugh, and remind us what’s most important: love. We can look to President Bartlett played by Martin Sheen in West Wing to demonstrate that prime patriotic quality of putting duty and country above all else, even politics. (I’m aware there aren’t really any great woman presidents in popular American culture to cite here, and I think that’s kind of a point worth making, so I’m leaving this list as is.)
In reality, our presidents aren’t like our idealized heroes. I know that. As many idealized presidents as we have in our storytelling, we seem to have more examples of presidents who represent our resentment of politics, and that points to a reality, too. Regardless, I think we should hold our real presidents to those ideals and values, because those ideals and values? They’re real. They’re the truth in the fiction.
The neat thing about storytelling in any culture is the audience has to mostly agree for the magic to work. The audience has to feel the hero is the hero, so we can look to stories to understand what a culture values.
Imagine, for just a second, we’re making a film and Donald Trump is the president. I have to trust, even still, it’s immediately obvious to everyone in the audience that he’s the villain, right? He’s selfish, greedy, mean-spirited, corrupt, and driven by personal ambition and (probably) a deep-seated desire to prove something to his father who never approved of him. He’s a liar, a cheater, and a demagogue. He’s racist, misogynistic, xenophobic, homophobic, and transphobic. He is utterly intolerant. He cheats on his commitments in business as well as personal relationships. He uses force to disperse peaceful protesters. He steals from charity funds to buy portraits of himself. He is narcissistic, shallow, and vain. He disregards science, expertise, intellect, and informed decision-making. He pipelines taxpayer money into his business and doesn’t even try to hide it. He sells favors for his personal gain, and he does it in public. He admires dictators and authoritarians, and he sells out our allies in their time of need. He sabotages legislation if it doesn’t benefit him. He is graceless in victory and defeat. He throws temper tantrums. He seeks retribution against those who are disloyal or those who simply don’t agree with him, and he is loyal to no one but himself. He’s a criminal, and at best, he does nothing to stop a mob of people he riles up with years of anger- and fear-mongering as they attack the Capitol Building. He doesn’t care, by the way, if people get hurt or if that mob hangs his vice president.
If I wrote a story with a protagonist president like that, I have to trust, even still, you wouldn’t believe it. I have to trust, even still, you would see right through it and would, at least instinctively, think he’s either a cartoonish parody of the worst we see in presidents or the story’s villain.
And I have to believe that because I still believe in our shared American values. Liars are exposed. Cheaters don’t prosper. We stand up to bullies. People who hurt others and break the law pay their debt to our society. We are kind, accepting, and tolerant. We are loyal to others but don’t demand loyalty in return. We are generous and honest, and we have integrity. We respect the rights of others, and we want everyone to have equal rights that are fundamental to living in a decent, just society. We are graceful in victory and defeat, and we do not seek vengeance against those who disagree with us. We, in fact, defend their right to disagree. We value the dedication and hard work that it takes to become an expert in any field, and we trust in science to give us the best information possible so we can make the best decision possible. We listen to those with knowledge, and we learn and grow. We seek compromise and unity, not concession and division. We solve problems together and don’t quibble over who gets the credit. We accept responsibility when we fail, and we don’t point fingers. We respect our own history and traditions, especially those manifested into hallowed halls, memorials, and monuments. We not only defend democracy but nourish it, because we know it requires our attention and care. We do not defer to one man; he defers to us.
Let’s pretend we have a magic president stamp, and we’re going to create a president in a story to serve as a protagonist. What does that person look like? Smash that stamp into the ink pad, and let’s find out.
They are honest, kind, empathetic, accepting, self-sacrificing, stern but fair, charming with a good sense of humor when the occasion calls for it, well-spoken, and comforting and calm during tense or conflict moments, committed to equality and justice. They know something of the struggle of typical Americans because they’ve lived it. They have at least one good dance move. They protect and advocate for the most vulnerable. They welcome those seeking help. When an adversarial world leader tries to be a bully to an ally nation, they stand up to that bully. They don’t pick unjust fights. They inspire hope even in the darkest of times. They unite those at odds. They are a mediator and collaborator. They seek compromise. They adhere to the law, but they also clearly have their own moral code for what is good and right, and they’ve written that code based on our shared American values.
It is obvious to me Donald Trump is nothing like that character. In fact, most of his character qualities run counter to those, as in his qualities are the opposite of those qualities. It is obvious to me Donald Trump does not embody any of our shared American values. In the story of America, it is obvious to me Donald Trump is the anti-protagonist, or the antagonist.
Now, a lot goes into politics. It is much more complex than one person or candidate. Perhaps you (the general you) view any particular politician not by their character but by their policies. That is, of course, the foundation of politics. Maybe you (the general you who voted for him) disregarded all of Donald Trump’s character traits, his history, his status, his catastrophic first term, and maybe you just looked at his policies and thought they were good. Maybe you just tend to think the Republican platform is the right path forward for America. Maybe you just thought something needed to change. Again. Even though we just made a radical change and hadn’t really given it that much time, all things considered.
I think that is fair.
But, here’s the rub, the crux of it, the core of why this election hurts: By disregarding, sanitizing, or whitewashing all of Trump’s character flaws and past failings and voting for him anyway, you compromised our shared American values, and you did it to save a few bucks at the grocery store.
It also just so happens that his policies are trash and are going to make things worse, and your groceries are actually going to get more expensive, but I digress.
The point is you looked at everything, knew people were going to get hurt, knew the man you were voting for was a villain, and you sold out your American values to save 10 cents a gallon at the gas pump (spoiler: you won’t because the president has little control over gas prices and Biden was already producing historic levels of gas here, so there isn’t much more Trump can do without ruining the Earth, which he’ll probably do because who cares about future generations, right?).
Again, the general you.
In 2016, I was disappointed because I thought Trump’s character was obvious the moment he came down that golden escalator. Ultimately, however, I chose to be forgiving because I understood the desires that likely drove a Trump vote, even if I didn’t think it would pan out the way people hoped and actually saw it ending badly. I also regarded it as a collective failure, one that I wasn’t absolved from. I had played a part in it, and I resolved to learn and grow from it, because that is what we’re supposed to do. (To be clear, I didn’t vote for him in 2016, but I thought maybe I could have done more to help people see his villainous nature.)
When we defeated him in 2020, I was proud of us, and I thought then people had seen it. I thought people understood what I had seen almost immediately: Trump was the villain in this story. And, I thought, that was that on Trump. I knew the terrible ugliness that drives his base would remain and need to be dealt with, but I didn’t think it could delude the majority of us.
In 2024, I’m no longer disappointed. I’m angry. I don’t regard this as a collective blunder. I don’t have anything to learn anymore. I stood on the right side of history. You elected a guy to the presidency who is antithetical to our shared American values, a guy who already proved his ineptitude and malfeasance in a first term, and a guy you’ve had almost a full 10 years to figure out.
I’m angry because you haven’t figured it out yet, and you’re taking the rest of us who have along for the ride down this spiral.
I do understand the disillusionment with American politics. It isn’t a good time for anyone and hasn’t been for a while. I understand that, when it comes to all of this politics stuff, it’s complicated, messy, and dirty, and honestly, most people have better things to do. I, as much as you, want this bullshit to end. I, as much as you, want our politics fixed.
But Donald Trump isn’t the guy to do it, and even if he were, it wouldn’t justify the total sellout of American values. That isn’t the sacrifice you’re supposed to make to improve things. In this case, the ends don’t justify the means, especially given the ends you want are not where we’re going.
This election hurts because most of us compromised our values for false promises that won’t bear out, and even if they do, the benefit for the vast majority of us will be minimal. If you voted for him, in the best-case scenario, you saved $20 per week on groceries, $5 per week filling up your oversized truck, a few thousand bucks on a 30-year mortgage.
This election hurts because, for so many of you, the utter compromise of our American values was so cheap, and you didn’t even do the homework of ensuring that sale would pay out for you.
I sometimes wonder what it must have been like in Great Depression-era Germany to be so penalized for the first World War by the Treaty of Versailles, for your country to be in such economic ruins, for your loved ones and friends to be hurting so bad, and then a leader comes to power and says he’s going to fix it all for you. Yes, it’s going to cost some freedoms but mostly the freedoms of other people. Some people are going to get hurt, but those people are other people. They’re not your loved ones or friends. Your loved ones and friends are hurting right now, and this guy says he can stop that. These other people? They deserve what we’re going to give them. They did this to us. It’s their fault you, your loved ones, and your friends are hurting right now.
I sometimes wonder about the Germans who fought for the Nazis because they had to weigh their values against a hope to end their own suffering, maybe even a hope for prosperity. I sometimes wonder about the Germans who survived the war, who learned the price of their values, who learned the cost of their souls.
I would bet, for most of them, if they had any decency, it was something they carried with them for the rest of their lives.
Now, everyone who voted for Trump knows precisely what the price of their American values is, and that is a stain that will never come out.
I like to write things that are useful. So, in that interest, what do we do now? Right now, you should do whatever you feel you need to do. We have some time. If you would like to do some good, however, consider setting up a recurring donation to the ACLU, the Trevor Project, Planned Parenthood, the National Network of Abortion Funds, or the Immigrant Defenders Law Center. If you can’t spare the money, consider volunteering in your community to help the vulnerable people who are suffering or will suffer in the coming years. If you don’t have the time, just check on someone you know who’s vulnerable. If you don’t know anyone who’s vulnerable, ask around. These are real people who exist. I promise. Maybe join a community online or in person. Ask how you can help.
So often, the first step to doing good is simply asking, “What do you need? Where do you need me? How can I help?”
And for the record, voting is a given. Voting is the absolute bare minimum now. Come 2026, none of us gets any kudos for voting. It’s expected. You’ll turn out, you’ll vote, and you’ll like it.
Assuming, by that point, we still have that right.