To elect Donald Trump once might be seen as a tragic misstep; to elect him twice, however, suggests something far more troubling.
When Donald Trump won the presidency in 2016, his victory was called a shocking leap into the unknown. His rise was an aberration in American politics—a symptom of deep discontent, but also a stark departure from the norms of decency and grace that had long been the hallmark of American leadership. But in 2020, when Trump returned to the national stage, there was no such excuse. America knew exactly who he was: a convicted criminal, a serial liar, and a racist demagogue who had attempted to undermine democracy and overthrow the government. Yet, despite this, millions of voters chose him again.
The outcome of that election was nothing short of a catastrophe—not just for the United States but for the world. It meant rejecting Kamala Harris, a woman of competence and integrity, who had the potential to become the first female president in America’s history. It meant embracing Trump’s venality, vulgarity, and hate-filled rhetoric, which echoed some of the darkest moments in history. Yet the world watched in disbelief as the race between Trump and Biden remained astonishingly close. How, many wondered, could this happen?
Elections, after all, hold up a mirror to a nation, and the reflection is not always one the nation wants to see. The shock of Trump’s 2016 win was followed by a sense of moral relief when he lost in 2020. People celebrated his defeat as if they were witnessing the end of a national nightmare. “Democracy wins,” read the signs outside the White House. There was a sense of finality—Trump’s time was over, and the nation could return to normal.
But the nation was mistaken. Trump’s insurrection on January 6, 2021, should have been his political death knell. His role in inciting a violent attack on the Capitol was an act so egregious that even some of his most ardent supporters, like Senator Lindsey Graham, turned against him. Yet, in a testament to his political resilience, Trump survived, and so did his grip on the Republican Party. Despite impeachment, despite his role in the insurrection, and despite the general public’s anger, the machinery of American politics failed to decisively remove him from the stage.
The Republican Party, once a bastion of conservatism, was now the Trump Party. Even after the failures of the 2022 midterms, where Trump-backed candidates suffered embarrassing defeats, the party could not shake his hold. Would-be challengers like Ron DeSantis and Nikki Haley were steamrolled by Trump’s “Make America Great Again” movement, which still captivated the party’s base.
Trump, in his usual manner, caught another lucky break in 2024 when a would-be assassin’s bullet grazed his ear at a campaign rally, a moment that only seemed to galvanize his supporters further. The image of him, bloodied but defiant, raising his fist, became a symbol of his campaign. In an ironic twist, his unpopularity—he had lost the popular vote in both 2016 and 2020—was once again counterbalanced by an electorate hungry for something or someone to oppose.
And then there was Biden—an incumbent president whose age and inability to rally his base opened the door for a third showdown between the two. Kamala Harris, thrust into the role of the Democratic standard-bearer with little preparation and even less time, faced an uphill battle. America, tired and divided, was ready to relive the spectacle of Trumpism once again, just as many voters seemed nostalgic for the chaos and theatrics of his first term.
Trump’s appeal is more than just political; it’s cultural and emotional. There are three main factors that explain his continued dominance. First, his celebrity—a larger-than-life figure forged through decades of self-promotion, reality TV, and books like The Art of the Deal—made him a household name long before he entered politics. For many Americans, he remains a symbol of success and power, someone who “says it like it is” and “doesn’t care what people think.”
Second, Trump has tapped into a deep and widespread anxiety in America. Economic insecurity and a changing cultural landscape have left many feeling disenfranchised and fearful of the future. To these voters, Trump’s populist rhetoric, though largely hollow, feels like a rallying cry for those who feel forgotten. His attacks on elites, his promise to protect American jobs, and his tough-guy persona resonate with those who see themselves losing ground.
Third, Trump has expertly positioned himself as a culture warrior, feeding off America’s racial and demographic tensions. His relentless scapegoating of immigrants and minorities, his divisive rhetoric on issues like transgender rights, and his ability to exploit fear of the “other” have made him a symbol of resistance for a certain faction of white, working-class America. His message is clear: America’s future belongs to those who maintain its “traditional” values, even if those values were built on racial and cultural exclusion.
These factors, combined with a media ecosystem that amplifies his every move, have kept Trump in the political spotlight. His resilience is fueled by a loyal base that refuses to hold him accountable for his actions, no matter how destructive or divisive they may be. And despite losing the popular vote twice, he’s on track to claim a second term, aided by a fractured and disillusioned electorate.
As we brace for another Trump inauguration, the fear is palpable. The same man who thrived on chaos, controversy, and lies will once again occupy the Oval Office. We can expect more attacks on norms, more rhetoric aimed at dividing the country, and more disregard for the institutions that hold American democracy together. Trump’s presence in power means an era of unpredictable crises, an erosion of trust in government, and an emboldened far-right movement.
So, how did it happen? How did a nation with so much potential and promise fall prey to a man like Trump? The answer is both simple and tragic: America had countless chances to stop him but failed to do so. And now, as the country faces its greatest test in generations, it is clear that while it may not fall into autocracy overnight, it is undeniably in the throes of a democracy in decline. As Oscar Wilde never said, to elect Trump once may be regarded as a misfortune; to elect him twice looks like pure madness.
