We've all heard some Americans talk about being lifelong conservatives from conservative towns, many of them rural. These represent a small but significant plurality of citizens who say they’ve always voted Republican and probably will again this year. even though the pandemic and the economy are hurting schools, the elderly, everyone who works at or owns a local business, and especially farmers. And, hey, man of them like all of us know that Trump is one very strange and lacking leader, but he's the president, right? That means everything. You follow your chosen party’s leader, no matter what. But here's the thing:
Imagine you are living in 18th century England…
Old England is a major world power in the 1700s. That’s a big source of pride among many of its countrymen. You are among the many who have little, facing barely surmountable problems in your daily life, in many cases working hard six or seven days a week to support your family. But you are loyal to the crown and to King George. Your town is a vital port on the English Channel. Ever since you were a kid, you and your friends often would pause along the beaches to watch one of His Majesty's warships returning home after long voyages. The sight of those magnificent vessels growing on the horizon always fills your heart with pride and makes you feel privileged and safe.
One day, as you come home from work, you watch as a familiar warship furls its sails and glides majestically into the harbor. But as it gets closer to the docks, you begin to notice that things are amiss. Crew members are scurrying about the deck and on the masts with less precision than is custom. The ship approaches the docks faster than usual and on a different angle. And it's listing slightly as if it has been damaged on a reef or in a battle. You spot burn marks on the deck and ragged holes in the sails. Well, you think, wear and tear may be expected of a war vessel, but the Royal Navy usually wins. Still, you are dismayed at the sight of any damage, and don't really want to look anymore.
But you can't help yourself. You steal a peak Just before the warship crashes into the dock. You see men wearing colorful outfits that are not Royal Navy uniforms begin to swarm from below deck, brandishing swords and pistols. Some of them are missing a leg or an arm and wearing eye patches. All look blood-thirsty. They whoop and scream as they make ready to leap from the ship to the dock, apparently preparing to pillage the town. You see the ship's gun ports open and cannon rolling out into firing position, aimed right at you. One of your friends yells. "Pirates! They're pirates!"
You turn your back again. These can't be pirates! All you know is that you're proud of England, a powerful Royal Navy vessel is docking, and ... pirates!? This can't be happening! You don't want to believe it. It doesn't change anything! You're an Englishman through and through and the symbols of your country including the Union Jack are all that matter. Before you after all is the most powerful, first-rate ship of the line ever built! A, extremely exceptional ship; very, very much better than all those of all other nations.
You strive to focus on that remaining shred of truth. Even if pirates have taken over this great ship of state, that will not change the monarchy or Old England or its approach to the world or its regard for you.
What matters most, after all, are the symbols of power, not who wields that power, or how, or even why. Not the truth. Not the big picture. But conformity. Faith. And an unreasoning, nearly unbreakable will to believe things are better when they are not.
So get over it. Suck it up and go on with your day. Make do. Vote for Trump again.