Post Election Grief

By John M Schneider, PhD

I had trouble concentrating in my seven am Pilates class the morning after the election. Although no formal concession had yet been made, it was clear who had won the election. Pilates usually works as a great distraction from whatever else is going on in my life. Even the most strenuous and demanding of exercises were not sufficient to keep me focused. It was the start of my post election grieving. It continues today, although the shock and trauma of it has lessened.

Knowing about grief as a professional counselor, author and researcher does nothing to provide me with immunity to loss, nor does it “grease the skids” in getting through it more quickly. It hurts to realize that a majority of the voting American people sees the world so radically different from me. I fear what lies ahead.

We still are trying to figure out why it happened. Some were duped; voted on “cultural values” that have little to do with their personal liberties while ignorant of all the issues that counted for us all: a misbegotten war run badly, tax breaks for the rich that will cripple future generations, dangers to the environment, social injustice, a broken health care system, to mention a few. Some issues may have been radicalized on both sides, such as abortion, and a middle ground more important than we realized. Perhaps fear was just too powerful a force for many to risk a change.

But understanding doesn’t change what happened. It was tempting at first to just let it all go and head for New Zealand. The bridges to Canada did not turn into one way passages. Did we really want to give up everything we have here? Early on, every loss feels total, with no redeeming factors anywhere to be found. Fears increase, vulnerability comes from every direction.

We fell discouraged, disheartened and alone. We felt bitter, angry, raging against the blindness of those who cannot see what we see, disgusted with the tactics stooped to in order to win. We are embarrassed to talk with our friends around the world, who were convinced that the 2000 election was an aberration, that America would come to its senses. Indeed the world does see us differently now. It will be an even greater task to restore their sense of trust.

I do know what most of us are experiencing is not depression. It is discouragement. It is grief. I know that grief goes through a process of facing what we have lost, then discovering what he have left or can restore. Only then can we find new possibilities that empower us. Some move more quickly through what’s lost, what’s left and what’s possible, a model of grief I developed over the past thirty years. Some struggle, this loss opening other, more deeply personal ones. New losses come along, with fresh battles, government appointments, assaults on liberty.

But human beings are resilient. I consider my “what’s lost, what’s left, what’s possible” approach more hopeful than the classic and much criticized Kubler-Ross stages of denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance —which were intended to describe the dying process. We are not dying, although there are times when it feels like that.

What can we do?
• Be aware of what it is we have lost, including cherished beliefs about rationality, winning debates, devouring information, seeing danger in absolutism, or in holding a moral high ground. Can we afford to be right when the majority don’t agree with us? Is there room for compromise without fearing the “slippery slope”?

• Validate that things are as bad as they seem. It’s OK each time something new occurs to consider once again: what has been lost?
• Hold hope for each other that we can survive, move on, that a better time can happen. Discuss how we feel; listen to those who were not at the opposite pole, but who struggled with their choice.
• Challenge those beliefs that have not served us well. Understand better those who have defeated us. In particular, open to the necessity of connections, the essential spirituality that imbues any movement with meaning. Discover that within us remains the core, the essence of our values and who were are.
• Then and only then can we find the new possibilities, perhaps quite radical departures to the old ones. The key is to retain the essence of what we believe, in spite of the change in form.

The ebb and flow of politics balance with time. The danger is falling into cynical depression, into seeing ourselves as victims, into focusing only on what we have lost, on resigning ourselves to the only outcome being passive acceptance. It is a perilous propensity of the political left to do so.

We too must learn how to not only survive, the mode for the traditionalists in society, but how to be creative culturally in moving forward. Courage only emerges in times of danger. Great leaders emerge in the direst of times. The time to come will find great need for courage and leadership. It begins within each one of us.

John Schneider is a Distinguished Professor Emeritus from the College of Human Medicine at Michigan State University. He is a psychotherapist and author of several books on transformative grief.

		february 2005 -- Issue 13

Post Election Grief By John M Schneider, PhD I had trouble concentrating in my seven am Pilates class the morning after the election. Although no formal concession had yet been made, it was clear who had won the election. Pilates usually works as a great distraction from whatever else is going on in my life. Even the most strenuous and demanding of exercises were not sufficient to keep me focused. It was the start of my post election grieving. It continues today, although the shock and trauma of it has lessened. Knowing about grief as a professional counselor, author and researcher does nothing to provide me with immunity to loss, nor does it “grease the skids” in getting through it more quickly. It hurts to realize that a majority of the voting American people sees the world so radically different from me. I fear what lies ahead. We still are trying to figure out why it happened. Some were duped; voted on “cultural values” that have little to do with their personal liberties while ignorant of all the issues that counted for us all: a misbegotten war run badly, tax breaks for the rich that will cripple future generations, dangers to the environment, social injustice, a broken health care system, to mention a few. Some issues may have been radicalized on both sides, such as abortion, and a middle ground more important than we realized. Perhaps fear was just too powerful a force for many to risk a change. But understanding doesn’t change what happened. It was tempting at first to just let it all go and head for New Zealand. The bridges to Canada did not turn into one way passages. Did we really want to give up everything we have here? Early on, every loss feels total, with no redeeming factors anywhere to be found. Fears increase, vulnerability comes from every direction. We fell discouraged, disheartened and alone. We felt bitter, angry, raging against the blindness of those who cannot see what we see, disgusted with the tactics stooped to in order to win. We are embarrassed to talk with our friends around the world, who were convinced that the 2000 election was an aberration, that America would come to its senses. Indeed the world does see us differently now. It will be an even greater task to restore their sense of trust. I do know what most of us are experiencing is not depression. It is discouragement. It is grief. I know that grief goes through a process of facing what we have lost, then discovering what he have left or can restore. Only then can we find new possibilities that empower us. Some move more quickly through what’s lost, what’s left and what’s possible, a model of grief I developed over the past thirty years. Some struggle, this loss opening other, more deeply personal ones. New losses come along, with fresh battles, government appointments, assaults on liberty. But human beings are resilient. I consider my “what’s lost, what’s left, what’s possible” approach more hopeful than the classic and much criticized Kubler-Ross stages of denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance —which were intended to describe the dying process. We are not dying, although there are times when it feels like that. What can we do? • Be aware of what it is we have lost, including cherished beliefs about rationality, winning debates, devouring information, seeing danger in absolutism, or in holding a moral high ground. Can we afford to be right when the majority don’t agree with us? Is there room for compromise without fearing the “slippery slope”? • Validate that things are as bad as they seem. It’s OK each time something new occurs to consider once again: what has been lost? • Hold hope for each other that we can survive, move on, that a better time can happen. Discuss how we feel; listen to those who were not at the opposite pole, but who struggled with their choice. • Challenge those beliefs that have not served us well. Understand better those who have defeated us. In particular, open to the necessity of connections, the essential spirituality that imbues any movement with meaning. Discover that within us remains the core, the essence of our values and who were are. • Then and only then can we find the new possibilities, perhaps quite radical departures to the old ones. The key is to retain the essence of what we believe, in spite of the change in form. The ebb and flow of politics balance with time. The danger is falling into cynical depression, into seeing ourselves as victims, into focusing only on what we have lost, on resigning ourselves to the only outcome being passive acceptance. It is a perilous propensity of the political left to do so. We too must learn how to not only survive, the mode for the traditionalists in society, but how to be creative culturally in moving forward. Courage only emerges in times of danger. Great leaders emerge in the direst of times. The time to come will find great need for courage and leadership. It begins within each one of us. John Schneider is a Distinguished Professor Emeritus from the College of Human Medicine at Michigan State University. He is a psychotherapist and author of several books on transformative grief.

February 2005 -- Issue 13	Gatherings Main Index	Center Home