A New Political Era: Understanding the Shift
We find ourselves at the dawn of a new political landscape. For the last four decades, we have been entrenched in the information age. The educated elite, with a measure of justification, believed that the postindustrial economy would be crafted by individuals akin to ourselves; thus, we shaped social policies to cater to our preferences.
Our educational policies directed students toward the paths we had taken, emphasizing four-year college degrees as the key to qualifying for the “jobs of the future.” In this process, vocational training became neglected and marginalized. We adopted free trade agreements that facilitated the relocation of industrial jobs to low-cost countries, thereby allowing us to concentrate our efforts on knowledge-based enterprises managed by those with advanced degrees. Consequently, the financial and consulting sectors expanded dramatically, while employment in manufacturing contracted significantly.
Geography was rendered irrelevant; the clustering of capital and high-skilled labor in cities like Austin, San Francisco, and Washington, D.C., seemed to overshadow the struggles of the communities left in the dust. Immigration policies favored highly educated individuals while introducing fresh competition for less-skilled workers. We shifted our focus towards green technologies that appealed to those immersed in digital industries, often at the expense of individuals employed in manufacturing and transportation who relied on fossil fuels for their livelihoods.
The metaphorical “sucking sound” you may have heard was the redistribution of societal respect. Those who ascended the academic ladder were celebrated, while those who did not often became invisible. This dynamic was particularly detrimental to boys. By the time they reached high school, approximately two-thirds of the students in the top 10 percent of their classes were girls, while a similar ratio of boys occupied the bottom decile. The educational system was not designed to nurture male success, leading to lifelong personal repercussions that now echo on a national scale.
Our society has morphed into a vast segregation system, elevating the academically gifted above the rest. Over time, the divide between diploma holders and non-holders has emerged as the most significant chasm in American life. Research indicates that high school graduates tend to live nine years shorter lives than their college-educated counterparts. They are six times more likely to succumb to opioid overdoses, marry less frequently, experience higher divorce rates, and have a greater likelihood of bearing children out of wedlock. Additionally, they face higher rates of obesity.
A recent study by the American Enterprise Institute revealed that 24 percent of high school graduates lack any close friendships. They are less inclined than college graduates to frequent public spaces or participate in community organizations and sports leagues. Furthermore, they often do not communicate using the prevailing social justice vocabulary or embrace the luxury beliefs that signify public virtue.
This widening divide has resulted in a profound erosion of faith, trust, and a sense of betrayal among many. Just nine days before the elections, I attended a service at a Christian nationalist church in Tennessee. The atmosphere was charged with genuine faith, yet it was also permeated with a corrosive bitterness, aggression, and feelings of betrayal. As the pastor lamented the “Judases” seeking to undermine their community, the phrase “dark world” resonated in my mind — a depiction of a populace perceiving itself as perpetually under threat, existing in a culture rife with extreme distrust. These individuals, along with many other Americans, showed little interest in the politics of joy that figures like Kamala Harris and other law school graduates were promoting.
