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title="Supporters of Donald Trump line up to attend a "Save America" rally at York Family Farms on August 21, 2021 in Alabama." />An August 2021 photo of supporters of Donald Trump lining up to attend a "Save America" rally at York Family Farms in Alabama. (AFP)
The 2024 US presidential election is more than just about a Republican resurgence. It signifies a potential realignment within the American political landscape—a “red deluge” that may indicate a foundational shift in voter behaviour and ideological preferences. With 48 out of 50 states moving rightward, including traditionally Democratic strongholds like California, New York, and Illinois, the data suggests a deep, possibly systemic shift. Such widespread gains across the ideological spectrum reveal not merely a reactionary vote against specific Democratic policies but perhaps an evolving sentiment that crosses conventional partisan boundaries. This pattern may reflect shifts in public attitudes toward governance, policy priorities, or cultural issues, signalling a reconfiguration of traditional political affiliations.
In New York, Republicans won significantly by flipping a state Senate seat in Brooklyn, a borough long considered a Democratic bastion. Retired NYPD Sergeant Steven Chan defeated incumbent Democrat Iwen Chu in the 17th District, marking a historic win for the GOP in this area.
A Narrative War
Similarly, in California, traditionally a Democratic stronghold, Republicans have made notable inroads. The GOP's focus on economic issues and public safety has resonated with voters concerned about the state's handling of these matters. This shift is evident in the increased support for Republican candidates in various local elections, indicating a broader trend of changing political allegiances.
In battleground states like Pennsylvania, Michigan, and Wisconsin, where political loyalties have historically been fluid, the Republican advantage was even more pronounced. The consistency of these gains across various states and regions implies more than a transient preference swing; it suggests a more profound ideological realignment that could reshape the balance of power. Theoretical models of political realignment would interpret this as a shift in the “political centre”, where structural changes—economic, demographic, or cultural—redefine voter bases and challenge established party dynamics.
There are several reasons for the massive Trump victory, but this column is about the “us versus them” narrative, which was responsible for the Democrats' debacle. The Democrats' commitment to a “with us or against us” mentality—born out of opposition to Trump in 2017—created a powerful, polarising lens that shaped their approach to governance, especially during the COVID-19 crisis. What started as a rallying cry to resist authoritarianism evolved into a mindset that equated disagreement with anti-democratic extremism. This was more than just political posturing. Instead, it became an institutional stance that influenced how policies were designed and justified, often sidelining more nuanced discussions.
Us vs Them, Good vs Bad
During COVID, this “all-or-nothing” framing led to some of the most rigid and divisive health policies. Lockdowns and mandates were often presented as moral imperatives, where compliance wasn't just about following health guidelines but about being on the “right side” of democracy. Questioning these policies—whether on scientific, personal, or practical grounds—was considered dangerous and almost traitorous. This mindset stifled healthy debate and sidelined legitimate concerns, making policies harder for people to trust and follow.
Psychology tells us that black-and-white thinking strengthens group loyalty but often deepens divisions. By framing pandemic responses as a test of democratic allegiance, Democrats created an “in-group” of loyalists and an “out-group” of dissenters, making it harder for policies to be adopted based on feedback or new information. This phenomenon is called “groupthink”, where the pressure to conform discourages questioning, even when policies could benefit from it.
The way COVID-19 policies became a litmus test for political loyalty also speaks to a concept called “biopower”, where institutions use control over health to enforce broader values. Public health wasn't just about health; it was about loyalty to a specific political outlook, with people who disagreed feeling sidelined. This kind of rigid, ideological enforcement strains public trust and often backfires, as we saw with the backlash against certain policies.
In the end, by framing so many issues through a “democracy versus authoritarianism” lens, Democrats made it harder to craft policies that felt inclusive and flexible. What was intended as a defence of democracy ended up putting it at risk, as it reduced complex issues to simple binaries, alienating people and undermining the very trust needed to make these policies effective.
A Backlash Against Moralising
Trump's appeal can be analysed through the theoretical lens of anti-institutionalism and political alienation, particularly within the framework of populism. Trump's success represents a form of populist backlash against what his supporters perceive as a sanctimonious institutional order that enforces restrictive norms around speech and behaviour, often called “political correctness”.
Sociologists and political theorists like Pierre Bourdieu argue that dominant institutions, through their “symbolic power”, enforce behavioural and linguistic norms, subtly controlling the boundaries of acceptable discourse. This enforcement often creates a sense of alienation for those constrained by these unwritten rules, particularly in spaces where awareness of microaggressions or social sensitivities is heightened.
Furthermore, cultural backlash theory explains Trump's appeal as a reaction from those who feel left behind by rapid social and cultural shifts. In ‘progressive' or “blue” states, where vigilance against microaggressions is high, individuals may feel stifled by the perceived demands of political correctness. Trump's open rejection of these norms allowed him to tap into a reservoir of resentment among individuals who viewed such standards as a threat to their freedom of expression. They saw Trump's candid style as a liberation from the “oppressive” norms imposed by institutions they believe have become too focused on social sensitivities.
The Limits Of Symbolic Politics
Additionally, this support reflects elements of symbolic politics, where Trump became a symbol of rebellion against the elite-dominated cultural establishment. Trump's directness and willingness to break norms resonated with voters who felt dismissed or condescended to by traditional elites. In this context, Trump's willingness to “go too far” was seen not as a flaw but as a badge of authenticity, embodying the frustration many felt about a system they saw as imposing unyielding standards prioritising sensitivity over free speech.
The American economy may appear resilient on paper, but this supposed stability is a mirage for most people. Every visit to the grocery store, every utility bill, and every tank of gas serves as a painful reminder that prices are now well beyond what they were in 2019. The government's rosy narrative about economic strength becomes meaningless against everyday struggles—a reality where inflation quietly but relentlessly erodes purchasing power and undermines any sense of financial security. Claims of economic robustness fall flat when the public feels the sting of rising costs daily.
Culture Wars
The relentless cultural crusades pushed by those in power have reached an intolerable peak, exposing a government utterly divorced from the struggles and priorities of the public. Political scientists argue that this fixation on culture wars stems from a desire to consolidate ideological bases and appeal to identity-driven voter segments, ultimately reshaping governance priorities around divisive issues rather than unifying goals. This focus can be understood through frameworks like “agenda-setting theory”, where political leaders deliberately use cultural flashpoints to dominate public discourse, often at the expense of substantive policy areas like economic stability, healthcare, or infrastructure. Such strategies exploit societal cleavages, transforming them into political tools that offer little more than rhetorical gains.
Furthermore, the relentless engagement in culture wars may signal an evolution, like political detachment. By perpetually immersing themselves in symbolic conflicts, leaders effectively obscure the disconnect between their priorities and the natural, measurable concerns of the populace, contributing to a form of governance described as “performance politics”. This performance-based approach erodes institutional legitimacy, leaving citizens sceptical of whether the government intends to address genuine societal challenges or merely maintain a facade of ideological purity.
Thus, in a landscape where political loyalty became a test of moral standing, Trump's unfiltered, anti-institutional rhetoric offered an alternative, channelling the frustration of those who felt marginalised by an increasingly performative political culture.
(Aditya Sinha is Officer on Special Duty, Research, Economic Advisory Council to the Prime Minister. Views are personal.)