Lost in translation (340) - O dilema de uma republicana

Entendamo-nos, vejo as escolhas políticas como um exercício de racionalidade e de realismo inspirado numa certa visão ética. Em termos práticos, essas escolhas traduzem-se a maior parte das vezes na escolha do menor dos males. Felizmente não voto nas eleições americanas - nem eu nem nenhum dos tugas que andam por aí a fazer comentários incendiários possuídos por uma qualquer verdade - já me chegam os dilemas de quem vota nas eleições portuguesas.

Percebo por isso o dilema de uma americana que sempre votou Partido Republicano, incluindo nas últimas eleições presidenciais, e está agora, sabendo o que agora sabe, perante uma escolha difícil. Trata-se de Kate Andrews, correspondente de economia em Londres da revista The Spectator, que se explica no artigo Why this lifelong Republican has to vote for Biden, do qual respigo alguns excertos, cuja leitura não recomendo a quem o Espírito Santo da política já tenha tocado. No lugar dela também teria ponderado que a escolha Biden e Harris tem uma probabilidade significativa a prazo de se transformar na escolha de Kamala Harris.

«(...) Yet I’m voting for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris.

I know their economic policies will make America poorer, especially as the economy tries to recover from Covid-19: the tax rises and the huge increase in spending (the kind that Senator Biden used to be wary of). And this is now the moderate wing of the party. Biden’s VP pick is further to the left. Harris’s approach to governing would be even more top-down and interventionist. Her politics and mine — I’m a liberal in the British sense of the word — are about as far apart as one can get.

But what about the alternative? What about Donald Trump? The nastiness, unkindness, the racism and misogyny, the way he always punches down rather than up — it’s the antithesis not just of my politics, but of the America I love. His supporters claim his remarks are taken out of context by his opponents in the media, that what he says is made to sound worse than what he meant. But we’ve all watched enough clips to know that the President needs no embellishment. The only way to pretend he didn’t propose a ban on Muslims coming to the United States is to close your eyes and pretend you didn’t read it on his campaign website. The only way to claim he didn’t mock a reporter’s physical disability is to look away and pretend it never happened. (...)

This isn’t to say I begrudge Trump voters. The vitriol thrown at them often mirrors how the President treats his critics. And his supporters are right to point to his policy successes. Trump’s tax reforms have resulted in companies big and small hiking wages and dishing out bonuses to American workers. It’s not a terrible surprise to us free-market lot, but his combination of lower taxes and light-touch regulation produced a booming economy before the virus hit. Last year saw a spectacular 6.8 per cent rise in household median income, the highest increase since records began. His less interventionist stance on the world stage has saved countless lives abroad. The First Step Act has done more to reform criminal justice — and help non-violent offenders rehabilitate — than any Republican or Democrat policy in years.

In this sense the President has been good for America and I have asked myself many times if I can separate the man from his words, hold my nose and cast my vote for the continuation of these policies. The answer is always no, because what is at stake is bigger than the economy, bigger than any piece of legislation that could cross the President’s desk. The social fabric of America is coming undone, and if it unravels much more, I fear it won’t be possible to stitch it back together.

I’ve never felt further away from my home country than I did this summer, sitting in my London flat during lockdown, watching on TV as the divisions that had been stoked in American society for years reached breaking point. Trump thrives on chaos and ego: after the murder of George Floyd he quickly made the protests and the riots about him personally, as if he were the victim of police brutality, or as if setting fires to shops and cars was more of an attack on him than on the Americans watching their businesses and possessions burn to the ground. (...)

This is the culture that arises when a nation’s leader never embraces humility, compromise or anything remotely resembling a statesmanlike demeanour. The first presidential debate reminded me once again that Trump has not bothered to learn any of these lessons: the interrupting, yelling and spin were bad enough, but the dismissal of Beau Biden — when the former vice president was paying tribute to his late son — was one of Trump’s most inhumane moments to date. It’s hard to imagine how a person could stoop much lower, yet I can’t help but think that, given four more years, Trump wouldn’t hesitate to show us.»