I am bleary-eyed as I write this blog on November 9th. Like many around the world, I was up until 3:30 EST last night, watching with fascination the unfolding spectacle of the US Presidential election. Although no one can claim to have confidently predicted the outcome of this historic election, there was no shortage of pundits of all political stripes that were confident that this election, however resolved, was going to discredit democratic politics and weaken even the increasingly tenuous argument that democracy was a system worthy of loyalty, adoption or respect.
The vitriolic divisiveness and absence of substance so evident from both sides in the campaign were, we were frequently reminded, being observed with horror by all around the world who rely upon both the myth and reality of America as a source of stability and inspiration. Perhaps more troubling was the notion that it was being watched if not stoked with glee by those seemingly poised to exploit for their own global strategic gain the inevitable decline of not only America itself but the popular romantic notion of a robust democracy as the ultimate model for the governance of a society capable of economic progress and social justice.
And at times last night, as the outcome slowly tipped and then flooded toward the improbable candidacy of Donald Trump, it seemed that the worst had happened and all was lost. As much as even the most optimistic can and should not believe that half of all of the people of the world’s most wealthy nation had intended to ratify misogyny, xenophobia and isolationism, there could be no doubt that that is an element of what they had in fact done.
But then a strange thing happened. It was entirely like the scene at the end of the Seuss’ classic The Grinch That Stole Christmas, in which the exultant and mean-spirited Grinch stares down upon Whoville on Christmas morning, having stripped the citizens of the gifts and glitz and treats of Christmas. The scene in Whoville on Christmas morning, and on the streets of America on November 9th, was not one of despair, anger and hopelessness. Like the Whos who joined hands in song to the spirit of Christmas, both the defeated candidate and the incumbent sitting President expressed their willingness to manage an efficient and effective transition and asked their followers and all citizens to suspend their doubts and extend their best wishes to the new administration. Even Trump himself found humility and restraint in his acceptance of his mandate.
The magic of elections, like Christmas, does not lie in always getting what you want. It is the corresponding reassertion of faith in Constitutions and the Rule of Law that constrains, both by term and extent, the exercise of the power of the majority upon all minorities. It is this act of faith that permits even fundamental political transitions of power to take place without violence. No one can or should tell anyone that democracy will always deliver the best government. But even on its worst days, it provides the means to address divisive differences without violence and preserves the hope of all for a better tomorrow. And for that, even on its worst days, we should all join hands and sing.
