The most dangerous threat to democracy is a story that convinces people they no longer need it. By weaponizing grievances, channeling emotional disconnection, and positioning himself as the only one who truly acknowledges the country’s betrayal of the working class, Trump turned resentment into loyalty and democratic erosion into his campaign strategy. The 2024 election wasn’t just a decision about who would lead the country next; it was a referendum on belonging and recognition. The Democrats’ response focused on policy defenses and institutional loyalty, whereas Trump told a visceral story that not only resonated emotionally but also opened the door for democratic erosion.
Trump’s 2024 campaign built on his previous efforts to undermine democracy. His refusal to accept the 2020 election results as legitimate, culminating in the violent January 6th insurrection, set a dangerous precedent for political discourse. Rather than reversing course for his 2024 campaign, Trump doubled down. His campaign was built around a false premise that he had been wrongfully removed from office and charged with 34 felony counts, amongst other lies that aimed to delegitimize democratic outcomes.
Despite distancing himself from Project 2025 on the campaign trail, his first 100 days in office have seen an embrace of many plans to dismantle civil service protections, increase presidential power, and reduce checks and balances. As the ACLU has documented, Trump’s efforts to suppress voter rights, perpetuate policies that undermine our electoral system, and abuse executive power are not just political strategies; they are textbook tactics of democratic erosion and stealth authoritarianism.
But for many Americans, this election wasn’t centered on these issues or about historic political firsts. It was personal and about their loss of their way of life. 64% of U.S. adults felt as if their rights were under attack; they weren’t just casting a ballot, they were casting a judgment about who saw them. In a time marred by economic strain, social division, climate stress, culture wars, and political disillusionment, many weren’t just asking themselves “Who’s my candidate?” but “Who understands what I am going through?”
As Susan Stokes points out in her book, The Backsliders, growing inequality is the most important factor in democratic erosion. When citizens feel economically left behind, they become susceptible to leaders who promise to upend the system in their favor. Elected autocrats must erode democracy slowly, keeping public support by encouraging polarization and convincing people that democratic institutions are corrupt, broken, and stacked against them.
Trump followed this playbook closely and responded to the question loud and clear. He’s discrediting the courts, censoring the media, and even framing elections as illegitimate while positioning himself as the only one who can “fix” it. Though diluted by lies, division, and diversion, his message resonated emotionally: You’ve been ignored. You’ve been overlooked. You’ve been screwed over. I’ll fix this for you. I’ll bring you back. These actions didn’t just deepen polarization, they lulled the public into accepting a more autocratic style of governance disguised as restoration.
Harris’s campaign, while maybe resonating with a narrow, already-committed group of voters, struggled to connect on an emotional level with a wider array of individuals. Their messaging was often technocratic and rehearsed, framed around defending democracy from Trump and tackling the cost of living. For many voters, especially the white working class without college degrees and rural communities who felt alienated, her messaging didn’t connect. In fact, it may have driven voters away from the Democratic Party. This failure of her campaign to resonate with specific voter demographics had significant electoral consequences.
A missed opportunity
Voters are not just understanding this election in terms of economic factors, they also understood it through a “deep story” as Arlie Hochschild has shown, where many right-leaning Americans are waiting patiently in line for the American Dream, doing what they were told: work hard, don’t complain, don’t budge, stay in line. But then, others are cutting ahead of them: immigrants, minorities, women, or any other group perceived to be getting a “handout” or special treatment. And the government? Instead of protecting their spot in line, they seem to be endorsing this behavior.
This feeling, whether accurate or not, drove resentment, grievance, and the sense that my country is letting people get ahead of me. For these voters, Biden’s presidency felt like another betrayal, and his age marred his appearance as a trustworthy candidate. When Harris stepped in, her campaign failed to shift that perception, especially in areas where Democrats used to dominate. Rather than representing real change, many viewed her as a continuation of the same line-skipping politics.
Trump, on the other hand, didn’t just tap into these emotions. He made them central to his campaign, recognizing and weaponizing their resentment. In a speech in Erie, Pennsylvania, Trump boasted, “We’re going to get the prices down. We have to get them down. It’s too much. Groceries, cars, everything. We’re going to get the prices down. While working Americans catch up.” For those who felt ignored, his promise of standing with working people and the challenges they face was enough to ignite their loyalty, mobilize their vote, and help win him the 2024 election.
A rare opportunity
Where does this leave us? If rising inequality and cultural alienation are fueling democratic erosion, Arato and Cohen, in their book Populism and Civil Society, argue that political organizers and candidates must meet people where they are and reestablish trust from the ground up.
Ruben Gallego showed this could be done when he was one of four Democratic Senators to win in states that Trump also won. Gallego won in Arizona, and the three other senators won seats in Michigan, Wisconsin, and Nevada, underscoring the importance of talking about issues plainly and meeting people where they are at. And just this April, Wisconsin, another state that went red, continued this streak when they elected Democratic-backed judge Susan Crawford. These wins are not by accident, but rather by connecting differently. Senator Gallego, especially, refused to dodge difficult conversations like Harris.
In a video interview with the Wall Street Journal, he emphasized meeting voters where they are, focusing on economic security, safety, and communicating clearly that his office was there to address real family needs. Additionally, Gallego recognized that Latinos, particularly men, were persuadable voters. Following the pandemic and rising inflation, many working-class Latino men felt a deep sense of economic insecurity as they were unable to provide long-term stability for their families. Instead of shying away from these realities, he tailored his message to directly address their concerns.
If politicians want to stop democratic erosion, they need to campaign for the people Trump claims to champion.
This is super interesting and a good use of the “deep story” literature, especially how it tied emotional resonance to democratic erosion. I think we’ve been seeing in recent years just how compelling and salient stories can be for voters, and we’re seeing candidates take different approaches to campaigning/marketing. (I also know there’s data that story-driven TV ads work particularly well for campaigns, which is an interesting tie-in to your piece.) In the next major elections, I’d be curious to see how candidates utilize the power of vivid narratives, and how that will differ from what happened in 2024!