There is no single explanation for Donald Trump’s unambiguous win. But if, as we were constantly told, this was in fact the most important election of our lives, in which the future of democracy really was at stake, Democrats never conducted themselves that way.
It was an egregious mistake—not just in retrospect but in real time—to allow Joe Biden to renege on his implicit promise to be a one-term president, and to indulge his vain refusal to clear the way for younger and more charismatic leaders to rise up and meet the magnitude of the political moment. Perhaps no candidate, not even one blessed with the talents of a Bill Clinton or a Barack Obama, could have overcome the handicap imposed on Kamala Harris when she emerged valiantly from the wreckage of the Weekend at Bernie’s campaign this summer, which her own administration had so brazenly tried to sneak past the voting public.
But other major mistakes were made over the past four years. The Biden presidency was understood to be a return to normalcy and competence after the terrible upheavals of the early months of COVID and the circus of the first Trump administration. That was the deal Americans thought had been accepted—that was Biden’s mandate. Instead, as president, even as he leaned into plenty of policies that served all Americans, Biden either could not or would not forcefully distance himself from the Democratic Party’s need for performative “wokeness”—the in-group messaging used by hyper-online and overeducated progressives that consistently alienates much of the rest of the nation.
[Read: Why Biden’s team thinks Harris lost]
Here’s one narrow but meaningful example: On day one—January 20, 2021—the Biden administration released an “Executive Order on Preventing and Combating Discrimination on the Basis of Gender Identity or Sexual Orientation.” The order said that “children should be able to learn without worrying about whether they will be denied access to the restroom, the locker room, or school sports.” Supporters argued that the order was simply pledging that the administration would enforce previously established legal protections for LGBTQ people, but critics saw it differently. As the author Abigail Shrier wrote on Twitter: “Biden unilaterally eviscerates women’s sports. Any educational institution that receives federal funding must admit biologically-male athletes to women’s teams, women’s scholarships, etc. A new glass ceiling was just placed over girls.”
In signaling their commitment to an extreme and debatable idea of trans rights, Democrats hemorrhaged other constituencies. Many Americans of all races care about girls’ sports and scholarships, and they believe that protecting women’s rights and flourishing doesn’t begin and end at safeguarding their access to an abortion.
Out of this larger context, Harris entered the final stretch of the campaign already compromised. Republicans seized on her previous comments in support of progressive proposals such as defunding the police (which she later renounced). But it was more than culture-war flash points. Fair or not, many Americans didn’t believe Harris deserved to be vice president in the first place. This is in large part the fault of her boss, who stated up front before selecting her that he would prefer a vice president “who was of color and/or a different gender.” It was a slightly less blunt version of what he said before appointing Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson—that the job was only ever available to a Black woman. Harris’s very presence within the Biden administration therefore, to many onlookers, amounted to a kind of glaring evidence of precisely the kind of DEI hiring practices they intended to repudiate on Tuesday.
Voters’ response was definitive. According to a New York Times analysis, “Of the counties with nearly complete results, more than 90 percent shifted in favor of former President Donald J. Trump in the 2024 presidential election.” That is to say, Trump improved with every single racial group across the country except one. He performed slightly better with Black voters overall (13 percent voted for him this time, according to exit polls, compared with 12 percent in 2020), and significantly better with everyone else—particularly Latinos, 46 percent of whom gave him their vote. He received an outright majority of ballots from voters marking the “other” box—a first for Republicans—and his party reclaimed the Senate and looks poised to hold on to the House. All told, the only racial group among whom Trump lost any support at all turned out to be white people, whose support for him dropped by a percentage point.
Were Trump not such a singularly polarizing, unlikeable, and authoritarian figure, one of the most salient and—when glimpsed from a certain angle—even optimistic takeaways from this election would be the improbable multiracial and working-class coalition he managed to assemble. This is what Democrats (as well as independents and conservatives who oppose Trump) must reckon with if they are ever going to counter the all-inclusive nihilism and recklessness of the new MAGA majority. Much attention has been paid to the gender gap in voting, and it’s true that more men voted for Trump than women. But the fact that so many citizens of all geographies and skin tones wanted to see Democrats pay a price, not just for policy differences but also for the party’s yearslong indulgence of so many deeply unpopular academic and activist perspectives, must be taken seriously.
[Read: Why Democrats are losing the culture war]
“The losses among Latinos is nothing short of catastrophic for the party,” Representative Ritchie Torres of the Bronx told The New York Times. Torres, an Afro Latino Democrat, won a third term on Tuesday. He criticized the Democrats for being beholden to “a college-educated far left that is in danger of causing us to fall out of touch with working-class voters.”
Yet I fear that far too many elite Democrats will direct their ire and scrutiny outward, and dismiss the returns as the result of sexism and racism alone. In an Election Night monologue on MSNBC, the anchor Joy Reid expressed this mentality perfectly. Anyone who knows America, she said, “cannot have believed that it would be easy to elect a woman president, let alone a woman of color.” Her panel of white colleagues nodded solemnly. “This really was an historic, flawlessly run campaign,” Reid continued. “Queen Latifah never endorses anyone—she came out and endorsed! She had every prominent celebrity voice. She had the Swifties; she had the Beyhive. You could not have run a better campaign.”
Over on X, Nikole Hannah-Jones, the creator of The New York Times Magazine’s “1619 Project,” wrote that we “must not delude ourselves”: “Since this nation’s inception large swaths of white Americans—including white women—have claimed a belief in democracy while actually enforcing a white ethnocracy.”
Moments after North Carolina was called for Trump, Reid diagnosed what went wrong for Harris: White women, she said, didn’t come through; it was “the second opportunity that white women in this country have to change the way that they interact with the patriarchy,” and they had failed the test again. On X, commentators immediately jumped on the blame-white-women bandwagon, as if it was an evergreen obituary they all had on file, ready to post within a moment’s notice.
Reflexive responses like these exemplify the binary framing of culture and politics in the United States—white/nonwhite, racist/anti-racist—that ascended with the death of Trayvon Martin in 2012 and peaked after the racial reckoning of 2020. For many on the left, it has proved a powerful and compelling means of contextualizing enduring legacies of inequality and discrimination that are rooted in past oppressions. And it has notched real successes, especially by forcing the country to confront bias in the criminal-justice system and policing. But it has also become a casualty of its own discursive dominance—an intellectual and rhetorical straitjacket that prohibits even incisive thinkers from dealing with the ever-evolving complexity of contemporary American society. As a result, it has taught far too many highly compensated pundits, administrators, scholars, and activists that they never have to look inward.
[Ronald Brownstein: An uncertain future beat an unacceptable present]
But the framing didn’t work for many other people. “I’m thankful that victimhood didn’t win as a strategy,” one of my oldest and closest friends, a Black man who doesn’t have a college degree, messaged me after Trump’s victory. (It is worth noting that his twin brother, a veteran, turned MAGA during the racial reckoning.) If we are to listen to what enormous numbers of our compatriots—including unprecedented numbers of newly minted nonwhite GOP voters—are trying to tell us, the straitjacket proved decisive in their shift rightward.
All of us who reject the vision of America that Trumpism is offering are going to have to do something grander than merely counter a vulgar celebrity demagogue who commands a potent populist movement. It is too late for that anyway. We are going to have to reimagine the inner workings of the multiethnic society we already inhabit. The stale politics of identity that tries to reduce even the glaringly inconvenient fact of Trump’s multiracial alliance to “white women” stands in the way of overcoming the real democratic crisis.
Harris herself knows this. When Trump attempted to goad her, mockingly pondering whether she was even Black at all, she shrewdly avoided appealing to superficial categories. In this crucial way, her campaign may be viewed as an unequivocal success, one that we can learn from.
