Well, folks – it happened. America has spoken, and a new/old president will be moving into the White House come January.
To be frank, I thought about doing something totally unrelated to the election this week. But this feels like one of those pivotal moments that we’re going to look back on, the way we do the pandemic, or 9/11, or (if you happened to be alive then) the assassination of JFK: Where were you the night Donald Trump was re-elected? And it just felt weird not to acknowledge it.
I spent the early part of Election Night in the company of close friends, drinks in hand, John King in the background doing his thing. We had some martinis, then sat down for a nice dinner of roasted pork shoulder, which my friend Harry slow-cooked all day, and a Mediterranean salad that another friend, Collin, tossed together.
Through it all I was torn between FOMO and relief at not having been on the ground as the votes were tallied. It was comforting being surrounded by loved ones during a chaotic, uncertain time, and I knew I wasn’t truly envious of my colleagues who’d be up all night keeping track of the count. At the same time, the journalist in me whispered about wanting to be where the action was, to see history made – regardless of the outcome.
This was my third presidential election as a reporter in this country, in addition to two of its three midterms. And one thing that always strikes me about elections, especially in this very divided time in America, is how different it can look from a personal perspective versus a professional one. What I mean by that is journalism (by nature) pushes reporters into spaces that we may not normally occupy and talk to people we might not typically interact with. The experience can be uncomfortable and nerve-wracking.
It can also be very enlightening.
Very early in my time with The Christian Science Monitor, I was assigned to write a story about abortion. This was before 2016, before #MeToo, and well before Roe v. Wade was overturned. There was a sense in public and political discourse that this was one of the most divisive issues of our time and that the stakes were as high as they could be; the debate extended even to what words we could use to write about the issue.
Each side was aghast at the idea of communicating with the other. How could they possibly have a decent conversation with an extreme misogynist who didn’t care about women’s right to make decisions about their own bodies? What on earth would they have to say to a baby-killer who felt no remorse about their choice? My job, then, was to find out by talking with advocates both for and against abortion rights, and then write about what I learned. My job was not to preach at the people I disagreed with, though sometimes I did hold them to account for their views by asking tough questions. And while it may sound like splitting hairs, I really believe that there is a difference between playing devil’s advocate for your audience – and putting opinions to the test – and outright arguing with your source. Especially when those sources are just regular humans, and not people in positions of power or influence.
I’m not a naturally combative interviewer, but I’m going to ask accountability questions of a member of Congress or a company CEO. But a voter who shows up to a political convention? I’m generally more focused on listening than pushing back. I was sent to cover both the Democratic and Republican National Conventions this summer, an I like to think I gave the same kind of attention to the folks in Milwaukee who talked about being excited for Trump 2.0 and the attendees in Chicago who couldn’t wait to see a woman of color become president, as well as the protesters who were angry at both parties for their response to the war in Gaza. It was all a reminder of what people outside my own bubble were thinking and feeling – an experience I find very humbling, because it de-centers me and mine from the universe.
Working in journalism is a regular reminder that most people have a reason for believing what they believe, a worldview borne from their experience and interactions with the world and the values they hold dear; part of my job is to provide the public with what those experiences and interactions and values might be so they can understand where people unlike them are coming from. I’ve tried to keep that front of mind.
This was a difficult election season for America, and a heartbreaking one for millions. I have dear friends and family who put their souls into the work of getting first Joe Biden and then Kamala Harris elected, and who are utterly devastated by her defeat. In my personal life, I want to console them, and commiserate with them, and do all the things you do when people you love are grieving.
Work is a different story. Case in point: The day after the election, my team met for our usual morning meeting. One of my colleagues said something to the effect of, Understanding what to make of this moment is journalistic. What happened? What didn’t nearly half the country understand? As reporters we need to ask the questions, to tell the stories as they are, and to do it with empathy and without judgment. That is how we cope. That person said that even as they fought back tears. Not long before that, another colleague had half-joked about the healthful, helpful effects of compartmentalization. Sometimes we just need to do that to do our jobs well, they said.
I’m not trying to overdramatize this. It’s not that we see ourselves as heroes. But I know my colleagues believe that the work we do matters, and that means we can’t – and won’t – close our eyes and ears to the many, many people in America who are relieved and excited about the outcome of this election, who are hopeful that this is the beginning of a better era for the country. Some of my colleagues are more entrenched in this than others; the team behind our election series Red, White and Who?, spent a lot of time talking to voters about their decisions (and often indecision). And again, so many of the voices they wound up putting on the podcast are the voices of regular people, with jobs and families and different ideas about what would make life better for them and the people they care about.
It can be hard to do this, and I don’t just mean in the context of this particular election, or even political partisanship more broadly. It’s hard to put aside your own beliefs and feelings about anything and give people you deeply disagree with a fair shake. It’s hard to call out falsehoods and misinformation and vitriol still be respectful and kind to the people and institutions that spread them. To be perfectly honest, I think those are pretty good arguments against becoming a journalist. But I am one. And all I can do is to try to live up to the standards that the best in the business have set. And in my life, that category includes some of my closest friends and colleagues at The Journal today. Whatever comes next, we’ll continue to help tell the ongoing stories of the people in this country.
With regular breaks for a good meal and a strong drink.
Small victories 🏅
Wins for the people we love can feel like wins for us, too. My fiancé Dylan’s podcast, Motley Fool Money, recently won a Signal Award! I know some of you all voted for the show, so on his behalf – thank you! He’s off to New York next week to attend the awards ceremony.
Hot mess recs 🔥
Dylan interviewed Steve Huffman, the CEO of Reddit, in a recent episode of MFM. They talk about Huffman’s plans to grow the site now that it’s publicly traded, how the company is handling ads, and – of course – AI. If you’re trying to start listening to the show, I’d say that’s a great place to start.
But if you’re looking for a distraction from the internet, or just events in America in general, our team at The Journal podcast just came out with a very bingeable three-part series called The Missing Minister. It’s a deeply reported investigation into the sudden disappearance of China’s foreign minister. The series has everything: money! power! espionage! a secret love affair (even a possible secret love child)! Highly recommend.
What the heck, why not throw out another podcast recommendation? Sam’s most recent episode of Harvard Thinking (which is either horribly or perfectly timed) is about the value of grounded optimism and how things are much better today than they’ve ever been – even if it doesn’t feel like it. She interviews big names Steven Pinker, Tal Ben-Shahar, and Jane Nelson about why choosing optimism better connects you to reality.
We appreciate you 💌
We’ve been at this newsletter for more than two years now, so I just wanted to take a moment to thank you, dear reader, for sticking with us. Know that if you ever have any questions, requests, comments, or just general thoughts to share, we’re an email away! Hit us up at goshdarnmess@gmail.com.
Until next time,
Jess