Echoes of 2016: How Leaders Reflect Us More Than They Lead Us

Food for Thought


It’s a somber day in New York, despite the sunny, almost summer-like weather. Although the election’s outcome isn’t exactly shocking, the way Trump dominated (with projections even showing him winning the popular vote) was unexpected by nearly every major media outlet. Now, we’re searching for a narrative to ease our unease—what just happened?

The “shift from” map by The New York Times suggests the entire nation has veered to the right. How the polls failed to capture this, again, remains a mystery, though by now, we’re accustomed to discounting them.

One of the mind’s inherent biases is to latch onto the image we can clearly form in our minds as the cause of the phenomenon we observe, especially when reality is too complex for us to process linearly. We tend to gravitate toward what we can clearly imagine, even if it’s not entirely accurate—a kind of bias toward the imaginary. Political leaders step in to help form these images, and we then assume, or even deceive ourselves into believing, that they caused the phenomena we observe.

Trump didn’t cause this political shift; he simply embodies it. He’s not a “leader.” Politicians function more like traffic cops. If a space alien watched a traffic cop directing a crowd, it might assume the cop was leading them, but the cop is merely responding to what the crowd already wants. Traffic cops, like politicians, are replaceable.

Perhaps a better example is a train driver. The technology behind trains, such as in Japan, is now so advanced that drivers are practically redundant, yet passengers don’t feel comfortable without someone they can visualize as “in control.” A computer lacks that reassuring image. Drivers exist, in part, to make passengers feel at ease. It’s not the driver who wants to go to Kyoto; he’s simply fulfilling the desires and demands of the passengers.

Democrats, who are often more educated and financially successful, like to think they know better. The typical narrative is that Republican voters are brainwashed by a mastermind. Democrats find it hard to imagine that Republican voters’ perspectives could hold any truth, so their focus is on preventing this mastermind from manipulating the “uneducated masses.” This mindset is amplified by elite colleges, which tend to elevate and fetishize “leadership.”

If we define a “leader” as someone who ventures into uncharted territory and clears the path for others, then, by nature, a leader cannot herd millions of people. Ideas take generations to permeate the mainstream. By the time they reach the majority, they’re no longer new. Those shepherding people toward widely accepted ideas aren’t leaders—they’re laggards. This becomes clear if we consider the early days of feminism. Leaders like John Stuart Mill couldn’t have led millions because their ideas were too radical, even absurd, for the masses of their time.

Even true leaders may not be leading. From a historical materialist perspective, they may simply be articulating sentiments that are already stirring among the people. Genuine leadership itself may be an illusion.

For many Democrats, acknowledging the validity of Republican voters requires a fundamental deconstruction of their worldviews, which can be painful. This existential crisis isn’t a quick fix, which is why ideas take generations to reach the mainstream.

Developing countries have no choice but to learn what the world’s most powerful country is thinking, while Americans can afford to ignore them. Likewise, rural conservatives have to put in some effort to understand urban liberals. Urban liberals, however, often dismiss rural Americans without making an effort to understand them. Getting to know them would mean legitimizing their views, something many educated liberals are reluctant to do. But it’s not Trump or any “leaders” we need to understand; it’s the people. I’d argue that we can even ignore Trump. We thought we learned this lesson in 2016, but apparently not, as we continue to be surprised.