What If You Lose?

A standard question to ask any columnist or blogger in the digital age is “What’s your best-read piece?”  The question often elicits a sigh, or an eyeroll.  It is axiomatic that the essays of which we are proudest never do as well as we like -- and that what does go viral is usually something we dashed off in haste. That’s as true for me as it is for anyone else.  I have only one thing I’ve written that got over three million unique page views: a hastily revised Facebook post that ran at the Times of Israel on November 10, 2016, days after the presidential election.

I titled the essay “Why I Won’t Tell Anyone to Calm Down about Trump.”  In it, I recounted the story of Elsa and Georg, my father’s parents, who lived in Vienna when the Nazis took over in 1938. Georg, my grandfather, was a gentle and amiable physician. He thought the family should stay, and that Hitler was a harmless blowhard. Elsa, my grandmother, was filled with dread. She insisted they leave Austria as quickly as possible.

As happens in most families, a mother’s fears carried the day. My father (then just three), my aunt, and my grandparents fled to England. Georg complained all the way that this was entirely unnecessary, but history vindicated Elsa’s fears. Most of the rest of their family — including both my paternal great-grandmothers — died in the Holocaust.

The editor at the Times of Israel added “Alarmism Saved my Family from Hitler” to my title. That frustrated me, as it changed the intent of my piece entirely. My point was that those of us who weren’t panicking about Trump should be generous to – and gentle with -- those who were. I wasn’t arguing that we ought to raise an alarm. I was saying that it would be both impolite and injudicious to silence (or even soothe) the folks who were loudly terrified.  I was trying to write a post about manners, and a couple million people thought I was comparing Trump to Hitler.  These misunderstandings happen, and the fault is mostly mine for not having been clearer.

Whatever happens on November 5, the losing side is not going to go quietly.  When you insist, as both sides do, that defeat will mean the end of America as we know it, you prime your supporters for panic, despair, and rage in the event of a loss.  If America is so fragile that it is lost forever if your candidate loses, then all sorts of possibilities – none of them good – open up. Will you go into exile? Will you take up arms? Will you drink yourself into a perpetual stupor?

When one is suicidal, as I have often been, your loved ones remind you that you don’t have permission to go. You simply can’t kill yourself, no matter what. No matter how hard it gets, you must stay. I don’t always like the reminder that I cannot leave on my own terms, but I accept it.  If someone like me, who thinks about dying constantly, can find the will to stay and make the best of what has been given me for the sake of my family, then I do rather think I can ask other people to keep a brave face and buck the hell up in the face of an election defeat.

I almost never lose my temper with loved ones. I broke that rule last week: someone I adore told me that she wasn’t sure she’d want to keep living if Trump won.  It was partly hyperbole, and partly genuine fear, but either way, it infuriated me. I got very firm with her. You can wail and weep and gnash teeth -- but having insisted that I stay in the face of my despair and depression and shame, you bloody well need to stay if your candidate loses an election. 

My loved one backed down. The exchange has haunted me since.

The polls are very close. Surely you have considered it possible that your candidate will lose. In the face of that prospect, I have a few questions. What, if anything, can you pledge to do in the event of defeat? Can you promise civility? Grace? If you can’t commit to those virtues, can you promise non-violence? Can you promise not to kill yourself, or attempt to kill others? Will you offer comfort to your friends and family who are also disheartened and despairing, or will you validate their worst fears? Will you still believe in American promise and potential?

I spend a lot of time thinking about the worst that can happen. (When I bought my new Mazda, the first thing I wanted to know was what it would be like to sleep in it, night after night.) I am not asking you to give up on your hopes for November 5. I am urging you to give some thought to how you will manage – emotionally, relationally, socially --  if your side is defeated.