'People Like Me': Fixing the feeling of abandonment in American democracy

This op-ed is part of The Hill’s “How to Fix America” series exploring solutions to some of the country’s most pressing problems.

Polarization is a defining feature of American politics. Data show that likability and trust for people of other parties is at an all-time low. For all of the concerns about this “affective polarization” as a threat to democracy, there is another concerning data point where there is complete bipartisan agreement: People feel that the government doesn’t care about “people like me” and feel powerless to change it. 

This bipartisan opinion may be the key to rebuilding our democracy after a divisive election season.

Consider that, back in 2016, a University of Maryland survey found that 65 percent of both Republicans and Democrats said, “The system is rigged against people like me,” echoing the populist rhetoric of both Donald Trump and Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.).

This anti-system sentiment held in 2022, when a University of Chicago poll found that most Americans in both political parties agreed with that statement. Not do people view the system as rigged against them, but they also think it is immune from democratic means to change course. 

This spring, the Rooney Center for the Study of American Democracy asked a nationally representative sample in the Notre Dame Health of Democracy Survey whether they believed “people like me have no influence on what the government does.” Results showed that 56 percent of Democrats and 74 percent of Republicans agreed or strongly agreed. 

A new CNN poll similarly found that 78 percent of Democrats, 83 percent of Independents and 86 percent of Republicans feel that the American political system needs a “complete overhaul” and “major reforms.” Across the political spectrum, the crisis in American democracy is not just that the electorate is polarized, but that the government is seen as uncaring and unresponsive.

Populist politics tap into anger and frustration that the government doesn’t care. Another way of talking about populist responses to the “care deficit” is what political scientist Ted Gurr called “relative status deprivation.” Relative status deprivation roots grievances not in economics, per se, but in the perceived ability or inability to make changes in government that benefit one’s group. Whether it be the powerlessness rural communities feel against the tides of globalization, or concerns about demographic change impacting future vote share, perceived deprivations of power and status is at the core of claims like “the system is rigged against people like me.” 

Hot-button issues may be more about this feeling of relative status deprivation than policy preferences. Take inflation, for instance. Inflation is so politically salient because it touches on this fundamental feeling: Does anybody care that I can’t afford food anymore? Inflation is a viable outlet for populist grievance because it furthers the narrative that government and corporate elites neither care nor can make our lives better. By introducing policies like price controls, the Harris campaign is communicating the government can do something to help people like you. 

Similarly, anti-immigration rhetoric from Trump is about identifying a grievance and doing something about it — removing a group perceived as standing in the way of “our” success. It is an efficient talking point that gets to the heart of people feeling overlooked and powerless. In this way, the factual truth of immigrant crime or even pet-eating is not as relevant for some voters as the communication itself. Trump is communicating that he’s willing to do and say anything to remove a threat. Trump communicates that he cares about “people like me.”

This populist appeal is a double-edged sword. Consider, for example, Harris’s framing drilled into talking points and ads: “Donald Trump cares more about himself than people like us.” 

Populists build their politics around the resentment of relative deprivation, especially in democracies where the allocation of surplus and loss hinges on a zero-sum mentality. The biggest challenge for a democracy is to provide for the general welfare without resorting to populist appeals that turn people against one another. Perhaps the first step toward restoring faith in democracy is to directly address a bipartisan majority that is skeptical the government is capable of improving their lives. Kitchen table economic issues, where there is actual consensus, is a foundation to build on. 

The American Academy of Arts and Sciences recently announced a set of bipartisan solutions to bridge economic silos — a significant step toward marshaling solutions to the “care deficit.” There is also clear agreement between both presidential campaigns that the government should enact a robust program of paid family leave. Additional bipartisan consensus on immigration reform and pro-worker policies such as eliminating taxes on tips are areas where candidates up and down the ballot actually agree and can marshal, in the words of the polls, “major reforms” that help “people like me.” 

So many Americans wonder how, after such a divisive and even violent election season, we can rebuild civility and set our politics on the right track. Polls suggest that we can continue down a populist path of “us versus them” or course-correct by concentrating on areas where the majority of both parties agree. Bipartisan solutions on the biggest issues of our time are thankfully right in front of our eyes, even amid populist rhetoric.

Though politics seem more divisive than ever, there is a roadmap for politicians to show they care and can do something about it. The legitimacy of democratic institutions depends on a responsive government that shows up for “people like me.” 

Joel Day, Ph.D., is managing director of the Notre Dame Democracy Initiative.