Born to be wild

Embracing political homelessness and an evolving political identity

I was surprised, as always, by how easy the act of leaving was, and how good it felt. The world was suddenly rich with possibility. ― Jack Kerouac, On the Road

I am politically homeless right now, but it is not a tragic, living-under-a-bridge kind of homelessness. It’s more like the homelessness that comes after terminating a toxic relationship, selling the house, and road-tripping across the country on a vintage motorcycle or a tricked-out van with a mini-fridge and Starlink access. It is homelessness by choice not desperation. It is homelessness chosen through clarity, not illness or addiction. I’m not saying it’s all roses and sunshine — there are tensions to work through, amends to make, Walmart parking lots to sleep in — but there is freedom in it. It’s sort of like the 1969 movie Easy Rider but set in 2024, a reconciliation with a dissonant America that captures something many others are experiencing. I too was born to be wild.

Two years ago this month, I sat at my kitchen counter and hit “publish” on an essay announcing my public break from the Trump movement. The essay, called “Why the American Right Should Break from Trump and Trumpism,” had been brewing in me for months. Publishing it felt like announcing a divorce or coming out as gay with a Facebook post, an opening pronouncement in a longer process of public and private identity reconciliation. 

Since then, I have written about my reckoning with January 6th, my Trumpist case for supporting Biden in the 2024 election, and some personal reflections in the form of a letter to myself in 2015.

It feels humbling to have meaningfully contributed to a political movement that I now see as a threat to the country, but this is where I am these days with Trump and the GOP. Sunk costs be damned.

Narrator voice: We now know to what end. (NYT Nov 11 2020)

I have never felt so grounded in myself personally, yet never less certain in my political identity. For the time being, I am embracing the freedom in this homelessness. I like being able to think for myself, talk to whomever I want, and break the chains of movement mimesis, those millions of micro-social pressures that keep people in line. I do feel some responsibility, which is part of the reason I am writing about it.

When I wrote that initial essay two years ago, I still wanted to help the American Right succeed, even as I broke away from Trump. Today, I don’t believe Trump, the GOP, and the Right can be unbundled. The entire ecosystem of the Right is not in a healthy place. It is corrupt and incompetent, riddled with foreign influence and fecklessness, and overly deferential to Trump.

These defects are bad enough in normal times, but they are existential in an era of rising geopolitical risks — war in Ukraine, war in the Middle East, an aggressive China, and flashpoints in Guyana and elsewhere. It is bonkers to believe that the man who can barely retain a team, faces 88 criminal charges, and tweets in all-caps like a geriatric on Adderall is fit to lead us through a geopolitical environment teetering on the edge of World War Three.

I now believe that the movement I contributed to has become more of a threat to America than the establishment I initially sought to reform. In medicine they call this iatrogenesis, when the treatment causes its own harm. The more fundamental disease persists — yes, the American political establishment is flawed and demands reform. But in 2024, it is crystal clear that Orange Man Idiocracy is not the answer. It is worse.

Most of the Trump supporters I know are genuinely concerned about the country, and motivated by issues like the border, the economy, and woke craziness. My Socratic message to them today is: You are correct to care about these issues, but how much are you willing to compromise the integrity of our political system to advance them? If Trump’s electoral machinations didn’t cross a red line for you after January 6th, then how much Constitutional end-running are you willing to tolerate? How much all-caps buffoonery can you stomach before you say to yourself, enough! and cast your vote elsewhere? How much more foreign compromise needs to be documented before you pay attention to it? Even if Trump wins, do you believe he’ll be effective in addressing the issues you care about, or will his second term look like Dumb & Dumber To while backfiring by energizing opposition around the world? Finally, what does it mean to be put America first rhetorically versus in practice? As Jack Nicholson’s character in Easy Rider says, talkin’ about it and bein’ it are two different things.

I loved the Netflix series Babylon Berlin, with its gritty portrayal of Weimar Germany in the late 1920s and early 1930s. When I watched it last year for the second time, I saw it in a different, more familiar light. I realized, sheepishly, that my old self would’ve joined the forces pushing back against the communist threat and the grievances of the Treaty of Versailles — and then, maybe too late, become horrified by the movement those efforts gave rise to. In the eyes of history, it would’ve been better to have been one of the figures fighting for rule the law and democratic processes amid rising tides of communism and fascism. 

Babylon Berlin is an exaggerated mirror of America today. That history is a reminder to beware of the dialectical swings of politics. In fighting one monster it is all too easy to become another monster, as Nietzsche famously noted. On some level, this is what has happened with the Trump movement as it went from Making America Great in 2016 to insurrectionism in 2020. This is why I left it, even though I share many of its grievances and policy preferences.

Ever since my days as a college student writing for the Stanford Review, I have identified with the political right. When I sat down to write the first draft of this essay, I half-expected to write about how I am no longer rightwing. But as I reflected on that, it didn’t feel true. I think I am genuinely center-right. I believe in borders and capitalism. I value faith, family and freedom, albeit with more inclusive interpretations. I am tolerant and open-minded but find the excesses of progressivism eye-rolling if not subversive. Wanting to abolish the police, billionaires, or borders is batshit crazy to me.

Article in the National Review from back in the day.

In counter-extremism circles, there’s a prevailing archetype of “formers” who make a 180-degree turn, like a former skinhead who becomes an anti-racist anarchist. My evolution is not like that. The dial has turned thirty or forty degrees, not 180. My values are pretty much the same, but my tone, perception, and beliefs have shifted.

I feel convicted in disavowing the anti-democratic turn of the Right that was led by Trump but enabled by many, including myself. I see the flaws of populism. I understand the toxic effects of rightwing media, which sensationalizes culture war issues without ever offering solutions. I’m dismayed by the way the Trump movement started out as gay-friendly but has become hostile toward families like mine. Several years ago I had hoped younger “smart guy” Trumpists like Senators Vance, Hawley or Cotton would bring adult energy to the movement, but it is clear now that toxic culture-war buffoonery and electoral denialism have infected them too.

And yet, I still agree with center-right positions on many issues. And I still take issue with many aspects of the left, even as I’ve softened to it. 

Where do I go with this? 

For now, Easy Rider-style political homelessness feels right, and I know I am not alone. According to Gallup, 29% of Americans believe neither Trump nor Biden would perform well. If they vote, which is not a given, they will have to choose the less-of-two-evils candidate, which for me is obvious: Biden. This will be the first time in my life voting for a Democrat.

I’m still friends with many people on the Right and have no intent to throw anyone under the bus. Although I’ve lost patience with stupid conspiracies and cringe aesthetics, I genuinely care about Middle American Trump supporters. I hate seeing them conned.

For the time being, I am road-tripping on my path one pit stop at a time, with some measure of gun-shyness and humility as well as purpose, wonder, and curiosity. I don’t plan on joining any political movements any time soon. I will, however, try to contribute to the two things I believe America needs in the current moment, electing Biden and mobilizing around geopolitical issues.

There is freedom in embracing political homelessness, of hitting the road and feeling the wind on the face, of learning lessons and moving forward. I, like you, am a true nature’s child.

Special thanks to

CansaFis Foote

Alissa Mears

and

HD Brown

for reviewing drafts.