I’m struggling to make sense of the election, and I have no one to discuss it with. Perhaps you feel the same way. I have one main question.
First, very few Americans bother to look beyond today’s expenses and tomorrow’s bills. For them, if things are fine now, why worry about the future or others? Why worry about concepts like bigotry, unfairness, criminality, hatred, lies, and honesty? Hey, I’m O.K., and isn’t that good enough?
It’s not how we like to see America. We pride ourselves on being the “shining city on a hill,” which is a bit like insisting all my grandchildren are perfect, even those in jail or estranged from their families.
So, I decided to ask ChatGPT my question. At least it doesn’t brag about its criminal children. Here is the question:
RMM: I’m glad Trump got his butt kicked, but I still am shocked that the Republicans got 50+ million votes. What the hell are those people “thinking” (if that is the appropriate word)? Given everything we know, how could 50+million people vote Republican?
What does a candidate have to do that Trump didn’t do to alienate those people? That is the question: What is the breaking point?
Hire goons to murder pregnant women by shipping them to strange, dangerous places? Bomb a kindergarten? Rape a 16-year-old child? Lie? Steal? Attempt to overthrow the U.S. government? Done, done, done, done, done, and done.
Where is the red line for these so-called conservatives, who are as far from conservatism as it’s possible to be?
CHAT: I think your question gets to something more disturbing than an election result: What does it take for a political leader to lose the loyalty of people who have repeatedly defended him?
There is no single red line because Republican voters are not a single psychological group. Some enthusiastically support Trump. Some dislike him but fear Democratic policies more. Some vote primarily on immigration, abortion, taxes, religion, or judicial appointments. Others have come to regard virtually every accusation against Trump as an attack by political enemies.
But I think the most important distinction is this: A voter can believe a politician has done something terrible and still vote for him if the voter believes the alternative is worse. That doesn’t excuse the decision. It helps explain how moral disapproval and electoral support can coexist.
And there is an even more troubling possibility: For some voters, conduct that outsiders regard as disqualifying has become evidence that Trump is willing to fight people they distrust.
Where is the breaking point? I suspect there are four different answers.
1. For some, there is a moral red line. They may abandon a politician over criminality, cruelty, or an attack on constitutional government. But even here, they must believe the evidence and regard the offense as more important than other issues.
2. For others, the red line is political betrayal. A leader who violates their principles may retain their support, while one who abandons a cherished policy or attacks their political community may lose it. Loyalty to the group can outweigh judgments about personal conduct.
3. For others, the red line is personal hardship. Inflation, unemployment, lost benefits, or a deteriorating standard of living can accomplish what scandal cannot. This week’s election offers evidence of that mechanism: voter surveys found that economic dissatisfaction and opposition to Trump helped drive Democratic victories.
4. For some, there may be no realistic red line while Trump remains the symbol of their political identity. Any accusation becomes evidence of persecution, any conviction becomes evidence of a corrupt justice system, and any criticism becomes evidence that their enemies fear him.
That last phenomenon is particularly dangerous because it makes the belief resistant to correction.
A revealing example comes from research on Trump’s 2024 campaign. In YouGov surveys before and after his felony conviction, the percentage of Republicans willing to vote for a convicted felon reportedly rose from 49% to 74%.
Rather than changing their candidate preference to fit their moral standard, many changed their stated standard to fit their candidate preference. That is a remarkable illustration of motivated reasoning.
I would also distinguish the offenses you listed. Trump’s efforts to overturn the 2020 election, his documented falsehoods, and his criminal conviction are matters of public record. Other allegations, particularly those involving specific acts of criminality, require separate evidence and should not be treated as established merely because they appear in the same list.
And there’s an important fact about those 50 million Republican votes: They weren’t necessarily 50 million endorsements of Trump. According to ABC’s 2026 voter polling, 44% of House voters said they were voting to express opposition to Trump, but only 16% said they were voting to express support for him.
That distinction doesn’t absolve voters of responsibility for the consequences of their choices, but it does matter when interpreting their motives.
The question beneath your question: I think you’re asking whether moral standards are genuine principles or merely rationalizations that people adjust to protect their loyalties. The uncomfortable answer is that both exist.
That doesn’t mean people have no responsibility for examining their beliefs. Explaining how someone arrives at a decision is not the same as justifying it. The most frightening political condition isn’t when people knowingly choose a flawed leader. It’s when loyalty to the leader becomes the standard by which they decide what is right and wrong.
At that point, the red line doesn’t merely move. It disappears.
RMM: America has 330+ million people, each different. Yet overall, we have had a combined reputation. “The land of the free.” “Equality.” “Opportunity.” “Fairness.” “The place where anyone could succeed if you just work hard.” “A welcoming nation where newcomers are given a helping hand.”
We even put it on our Statue of Liberty. In that regard, we are more alike than different. Yet almost half of America voted against it.
CHAT: You’ve identified something that goes beyond Trump, Republicans, Democrats, or even elections. What happens when a nation begins to abandon the principles by which it has defined itself?
America has never perfectly lived up to the ideals you describe. Slavery, segregation, the treatment of Native Americans, exclusionary immigration laws, and discrimination are all part of our history. But there was something remarkable about the American promise: We established standards by which our own behavior could be judged.
The Declaration of Independence didn’t say that all Americans were created equal. It said all men are created equal. The language was universal, even though the people who wrote it failed to practice it universally.
That contradiction became an instrument of progress. Abolitionists, suffragists, civil rights leaders, and immigrants could demand that America honor its own professed principles.
The Statue of Liberty expressed the same aspiration. Emma Lazarus’s words welcomed the tired, the poor, and the homeless. They didn’t require newcomers to be wealthy, educated, or politically useful.
But I would challenge one part of your conclusion. Voting Republican does not necessarily mean voting against every one of those ideals. Some Republican voters sincerely believe they are defending freedom, opportunity, fairness, and the rule of law. They may define those principles differently, distrust the opposing party, or prioritize other concerns.
That doesn’t mean their judgments are correct. Nor does it excuse policies that violate the principles they claim to defend. It does mean that the political divide isn’t simply between Americans who believe in our national ideals and Americans who reject them.
Something more complicated—and perhaps more dangerous—is happening. We increasingly disagree about what those ideals mean. One person understands freedom as the ability to live without government interference. Another understands freedom as the ability to obtain healthcare, education, and economic security.
One understands fairness as treating everyone identically under the law. Another understands fairness as correcting disadvantages that prevent people from enjoying genuinely equal opportunities.
One sees immigration as the fulfillment of America’s promise. Another sees restrictions as necessary to preserve the country that made the promise possible.
Those differences don’t make every policy equally defensible. A policy that violates constitutional rights or treats people cruelly deserves criticism regardless of its stated justification.
And there’s a distinction I consider especially important: Disagreement about policy is compatible with democracy. Refusal to accept democratic constraints is not. A nation can survive fierce arguments about taxes, immigration, healthcare, and government spending.
It has a much harder time surviving when significant numbers of citizens regard electoral defeat as illegitimate, political opponents as enemies, and loyalty to an individual as more important than constitutional government.
You wrote, “In that regard, we are more alike than different.” I think that is both the hope and the central question. Americans may still share many of the same ideals. But sharing the words freedom, equality, opportunity, and fairness doesn’t guarantee that we share their meanings—or that we will defend them when doing so becomes inconvenient.
Perhaps the real test of American character isn’t whether we celebrate our ideals. It’s whether we uphold them when they protect people we dislike. That’s where the Statue of Liberty stops being a symbol and becomes a standard.
RMM: One last question: How do these people portray themselves as conservatives, considering that their hero is a convicted criminal, as well as being an unconvicted and soon-to-be-convicted criminal?
I think you’ve identified one of the central contradictions of modern American conservatism. How can a movement that traditionally emphasized law and order, personal responsibility, moral character, respect for institutions, and constitutional government embrace a leader who has violated so many of those standards? Trump was convicted by a jury of 34 felonies involving falsified business records.
Now, to your real question. What happened to conservatism? I see four explanations.
1. Conservatism became tribal identity rather than a consistent philosophy. For many voters, being conservative no longer means adhering to a fixed set of principles. It means belonging to a political coalition and opposing its enemies. Consequently, conduct that would have disqualified a Democratic politician becomes tolerable in a Republican.
2. The definition of law and order became selective. Some voters distinguish between laws they regard as legitimate and prosecutions they regard as politically motivated. Trump has encouraged that distinction by portraying his legal difficulties as persecution.
That argument can be examined on its merits. But when every adverse verdict automatically becomes proof of persecution, the principle of accountability disappears.
3. Winning became more important than character. Some conservatives regard Trump as an unpleasant but effective instrument for achieving their objectives: conservative judges, restrictive immigration policies, lower taxes, deregulation, or opposition to progressive social policies.
Their implicit argument is: I didn’t elect a saint. I elected someone to fight for my interests. That is a coherent political calculation, but it conflicts with the traditional claim that a president’s personal character is essential to leadership.
4. Trump changed what the word conservative means within his movement. Traditional conservatism generally emphasized limited government, fiscal restraint, institutional continuity, and skepticism toward concentrated power.
Trump’s political movement emphasizes nationalism, personal loyalty, immigration restrictions, executive authority, and opposition to perceived cultural elites. Those positions overlap with traditional conservatism in some respects and contradict it in others.
And the Republican Party itself is now confronting that contradiction. Following this week’s election, prominent Republicans are publicly debating whether to retain Trump’s political approach or return to a more traditional conservatism.
Here’s the distinction I consider most revealing: A genuine principle applies even when applying it is inconvenient. If someone believes that criminal conduct disqualifies a president, that standard should apply regardless of party.
If someone believes that presidents must respect election results, that standard should apply regardless of who loses. If someone believes in limited government, that principle should apply when their preferred president exercises government power. Otherwise, these aren’t governing principles. They’re preferences applied selectively to friends and enemies.
I wouldn’t conclude that every Republican has abandoned conservatism. Many have criticized Trump, opposed him, or struggled with precisely these contradictions. But I would conclude that a substantial part of the Republican movement has replaced an older understanding of conservatism with something fundamentally different.
And that leads to a question more revealing than whether Trump is conservative: If a politician can abandon the principles of conservatism and still command the loyalty of conservatives, what exactly are those voters conserving?
For some, the answer may be traditions and policies. For others, it appears to be political identity, cultural position, and power. Those are very different things.
RMM: I’m waiting for a true conservative to debate. These MAGAs aren’t conservatives. They merely are bigoted fools. My mother taught me never to argue with a fool. A fool won’t believe what YOU are saying nor understand what HE is saying.
Many people confuse a MAGA with a Republican. MAGAs are the fascist branch of the Republican Party. Not all Republicans are MAGAs, nor wish to be.
CHAT: “Republican” describes a political party affiliation. “Conservative” describes a political philosophy. “MAGA” describes a political movement organized around Trump and his vision of America.
Those are three different categories, although they overlap. And you’re right that many Republicans reject MAGA, including conservatives who regard Trump’s attacks on constitutional institutions, election results, and the rule of law as betrayals of conservatism.
RMM: Good discussion.
Rodger Malcolm Mitchell