Really wonderful people voted for that other candidate. Are you okay with that?
“How could you possibly have voted for that person?!” so many say on both sides. A persuasive answer to that could alleviate angst and preserve peace of mind we’ll all need in the days ahead.
In my article after the election, I quoted one Latter-day Saint man who had voted with Harris and was deeply dismayed with the final result. I received a note afterward that was published from a woman who expressed shock that this fellow believer had voted for Harris—admitting that her respect for him had “lowered a bit” since the Democratic candidate actively supports abortion.
Of course, similar alarm has been felt and expressed for years towards those who openly acknowledge voting for Donald Trump. This kind of ‘I can hardly imagine how they could possibly do that’ posture seems to me another significant barrier to peace both within ourselves and within our communities—the kind of emotional edge that can translate into an enduring awkwardness or a cool distance between us.
I believe the opposite is also true, though. I’ve witnessed for years how deeper understanding (which is very different than agreement or validation) eases people back into a comfortable relationship with a friend, family member or neighbor who had come to feel more like an ideological stranger.
Millions of words have been spoken and written to help people understand Trump voters since 2016 (including this piece I wrote during his first term in office). Far less ink has gone to making sense of the support given to Harris, for some obvious reasons.1 Yet especially in conservative parts of the country, there’s at least as much stigma attached to voting for Harris as there has been voting for Trump in the cities or coasts.
For anyone who finds themselves saying “I can’t believe that other person would vote for him (or her),” ask yourself: Is there anything I could be missing? And would you be open to seeing what you might be missing if it could help you feel more reassured about voters on the other side of the aisle—including, likely, people you know and love?
Based on an obscene amount of political community I’ve had to consume for my job, here are three things I think voters on both sides are missing—prioritizing those explanations most helpful in acting as pressure-release valves, prompting that wonderful moment: “Ahhh, okay. I think I understand a little better.” I’m focusing specifically here on people of faith, since there’s less controversy or stigma around Harris otherwise.2
What you might be missing about people of faith who supported Harris:
1. Their support doesn’t mean they don’t care any less about abortion and the unborn. Many religious supporters of Harris remained sincerely troubled by her strong focus on “reproductive rights.” But because the Supreme Court has ruled on abortion—and the Congress is typically (closely) divided, they determined she couldn’t really do much to change the national landscape on abortion—a new status quo which they celebrate following the fall of Roe vs. Wade.
2. Many of them believe the erosion of civility and respect outweighs other policy concerns. A great number of these same people are also worried about the economy, immigration, and woke policies such as allowing biological boys to play women’s sports. However, for these voters, a total erosion of our ability to speak together weighs more heavily than any of those specific issues. Furthermore, there is a sense that consensus has been emerging among both parties that much more needs to be done about the economy, sealing the borders, and large majorities of Americans think woke ideology has gone too far (so, in other words, progress on these issues would presumably go forward on some level no matter who wins).
3. They are genuinely worried about what Trump’s harder lines towards Ukraine and migrants will mean. For these voters, fears of abandoning Ukraine are real, with sincere worries that pulling American support could lead to a Russian occupation. And language that demonizes all migrants as “poisoning the blood of our country” feels at odds with a more compassionate approach they have seen among many religious leaders in America. That doesn’t mean open borders, with large majorities of America caring about resolving immigration. From this perspective, while it’s clearly a problem if we’re neglecting needs in our own country (“put on your own oxygen mask first”), everyone else still needs to breath, right? In other words, are we not (still) our brothers’ and sisters’ keeper?
What you might be missing about people of faith who supported Trump:
1. Their support doesn’t mean they don’t care about character or civility (or democracy too). This is almost always the first thing Trump supporters from a religious background say—distancing themselves from certain behaviors and rhetoric. Most of us know by now that it’s possible to be enthusiastic about Trump policies, while maintaining sincere reservations about how he talks and acts. This does seem to be a difference between people of faith and secular MAGA folks.
2. They’re genuinely worried about putting food on the table. How exactly this got overlooked in all the media frenzy surrounding Harris campaign is a national head-scratcher this week. But it’s not getting missed anymore. Over and over, we’re now seeing acknowledgment in the New York Times and elsewhere that economic concerns trumped other issues Harris was raising.
3. They do care about others (Ukranians, migrants)—yet they’re concerned the balance is off. Just as religious Harris supporters saw natural limits to what Harris could do about abortion, religious Trump supporters see natural limits to what Trump could do with mass deportation and the Ukranian war with Russia. “Is he really going to pull all support from Ukraine? Doubtful given how strongly Americans feel, the thinking goes.”
And “is he really going to be able to deport anyone that is illegally in the country—including those families making a contribution to the community?” Again, doubtful given the logistical hurdles and the revulsion it would induce among Americans (that was David Brooks’ argument on election night). By this view, it’s far more likely that Trump moderates Ukrainian funding in a way that nudges the nation more quickly towards a peace settlement—while aiming to deport criminals far more often than law-abiding migrants who want to become citizens.
See also:
Seeing our political opposites honestly
Does any of this help? The hope is this kind of deeper understanding can puncture unnecessarily harsh characterizations of each other—within families, within our faith communities, and across the country as a whole.
Translation: we can stop seeing the other side as merely dumb, deceived, or worse (unfeeling, hateful, diabolical?)
That means Harris voters could lay aside blanket stereotypes of Trump voters as dismissive towards democratic norms and uncaring (towards migrants, minorities and Ukraine).
And Trump voters could likewise lay aside equally overdone stereotypes of Harris voters as unconcerned with abortion or completely naive to the dangers of unchecked illegal migration and unlimited financial support of Ukraine.
Are either of these general characterizations really fair and true? In my experience, they just aren’t—especially not for people of faith on both sides.3 It’s the absence of this kind of deeper understanding that keeps us nursing darker grievances—which corrode our personal and collective peace from the inside out.
Connected with both the recency of her candidacy and her alignment with dominant American positions widely popular among elite institutions (universities, legacy media, big businesses, Hollywood). No need to explain what’s widely popular!
Except for on the far left, which has struggled to overlook her actions in relation to the Israel Gaza war.
This is different, by the way, from arguing that the truth-claims about either candidate held by these people are true. I’m arguing that religious supporters of Trump may have reasonable, defensible, sensible convictions about otherwise controversial policies, rather than anything specific about the policies themselves.