I caught a quote on Facebook from a striving author J. Adam Snyder. Reacting presumably to the victory of Donald Trump in the 2024 Presidential Election, Snyder said, "Politics is a game played by the rich with the lives of the poor." His words carry a false gravitas and do not stand out in the fields of left-wing rhubarbs as anything significant, just overblown browbeating.
Snyder comes off as just another disappointed Liberal venting his spleen. Americans will have to listen to the likes of him for another four years, until the Democrats nominate another candidate to take on the Republican one; but I predict that neither of them will do much to allay the underlying anxiety that American disunity and hostility in the modern nation make them feel about the future, especially if they continue to regard presidential elections as a "game".
But Snyder's use of the word "game" stuck in my mind. A campaign worker might say "Opposition is the name of the game." A sports-fan might say "Competition is the name of the game." Americans know all about games and competition. We get indoctrinated early into the culture of competition in school, on the playground, or on the dance-floor. After high school, most of us turn into spectators, rather than competitors, but the spirit of competition endures.
Competitive sports thinks and acts in real time, no yesterday or tomorrow, only right now, meaning that we don't think in terms of absolutes. It's not about being "better than" someone else. It is only about winning. If the media tells us that the other team is better than ours, we think only of an upset victory, and celebrate like hell when we pull it off!
Enter any high school gym for a pep-rally and watch the cheerleaders fire up the crowd, as football players strut about in their team jerseys, in anticipation of the big game on Saturday. Across the US, it remains an Autumn ritual, year after year. Then, of course, the players and cheerleaders graduate and go off to college, sign up for the military, or start their first jobs. New players and cheerleaders take their places for next year's season, to repeat the rituals.
Corporate America also holds pep-rallies. I have seen a few Apple rallies: Steve Jobs stands on the stage in his signature black pull-over shirt that fits his lean torso trimly, and worn blue jeans, as he reveals the new products of the company. The audience doesn't simply cheer; they sigh with a sense of awe for the inventor. In one rally, a large screen behind Jobs displayed the image of his rival Bill Gates. The audience booed loudly, as if on cue.
High-school pep-rally rituals look similar to political-campaign rallies, missing only the media glitz and celebrity appearances. You still get the impression that planners of political-campaigns learned everything they know from high-school pep-rallies. The participants do not analyze past mistakes, assess media-predictions about who will win, or wonder about what will happen if they lose. They focus only on winning.
I stopped watching political-campaign rallies years ago. It just looked like a boozy, two-week long party. The master of ceremonies had to beg the crowd to quit yelling so much, and to quit blowing plastic horns, because they drowned out the speakers. He then tried to coax the crowd into singing "God Bless America!" Nothing worked, so he gave up trying: Just let the crowd wear itself out, and we will continue.
The famous movie from 1962 Manchurian Candidate finishes during a presidential convention at Madison Square Garden in New York. In the movie, various security people mingle in the crowd of party-hardy types. While the guests party, an assassin lurks nearby. The security people have to stay on the look-out for him.
Now that Donald Trump has received another four-year term, I'll bet a lot of his enemies wish they could have taken a shot at him. Remembering J Adam Snyder's statement about the wealthy playing games with the lives of the poor, we can see how games can transition into a more risky proposition than high school football. No other President in recent memory has antagonized as many people as Trump has.
Trump's team believes it will launch a revolution of sorts, and a re-inventing of the responsibilities of the Federal Government. Let the Biden administration run its course, then Trump will re-boot the system. Grand designs always create a lot of enthusiasm, and also the most opposition. Trump will get plenty of push-back, for certain. Perhaps, he will get something more foreful than push-back—say, open revolt.
As they did in 2016, many Democrats intend to spend his term of office somewhere else, then wait and see what transpires. When Biden took the Presidency back in 2020, the Democrats scoffed that many Republicans wanted to leave, as well. It reminds you a little of our childhoods, when we told our parents that we were running away from home because of the way they treated us.
We have to admit that the stakes are higher in presidential politics than in high-school football and corporate rivalries. I keep wondering why Barbra Streisand or Bryan Cranston threaten to run away from home. Why should anyone? America needs a solution that makes thoughts about running away from home unnecessary.
The problem begins when elections lose the character of a game and become something closer to warfare. We have to stop thinking about elections in terms of a winner and a loser, stop thinking of them occuring in real time, but stand above all that and plan for the future, so that the game-players, from high school on, can play on, with the assurance of actually having a future, at all.
We can only do that if we divide the country. The two new nations—one Republican in orientation, the other Democat in orientation—can remain serious, even hostile rivals, but with the confidence of knowing that the rivals will have to go home at the end of the day and leave you in peace.