This to my millennial son and daughters, to my millennial nieces and nephews, and to my millennial friends and acquaintances who are participating in a presidential election for the first or second time: I want to apologize. I want to apologize for the electoral train wreck that has been unfolding in slow motion during the past several months. I'm embarrassed about an election season that should be reflecting the best in our democracy but is regrettably reflecting much of the worst. I want you to know, too, that you bear no responsibility for this embarrassment. Not yet.
The seeds for the emergence of the likes of Donald Trump were sown long ago, long before even your capacity to remember. I and the other supposed adults in this room called American politics have allowed our standards and practices to fall far short of our ideals. We have done this incrementally and nearly imperceptibly during a period, not of months, but years. We have done this by failing to demand of our elected representatives — by failing to demand of ourselves — that we engage in democracy, not merely with commitment, but with civility, respect, compassion and understanding. And for my part in this failure, for my part as one of the adults in the room, I am heartily sorry.
For what it's worth, and for some more positive perspective, you should know that in my lifetime, and as a voter for more than 40 years, I've never seen anything quite like this. It hasn't always been this sordid, this acrimonious. Although politics and presidential politics have always been rife with underhandedness, all manner of shenanigans and even occasional corruption, those caught in the act have most often been held accountable, while also suffering disqualifying rebuke, regardless of party affiliation. Never in my life has a morally corrupt politician been celebrated very long after corruption has been exposed. Richard Nixon comes immediately to mind.
But even those caught in small-c corruption, or even questionable judgment or character defect, have tarnished fast in the eyes of the voters. Gary Hart comes to mind. You likely don't know of Hart, but the voters cast him aside largely due to the emergence of a single photograph of a young woman (not his wife) sitting on his lap. Even Bill Clinton paid dearly for his inexcusable behavior, endlessly scrutinized by a special prosecutor and narrowly surviving a deeply humiliating impeachment vote.
Believe it or not, but our standards for presidential candidates were, not so long ago, exacting. We've slipped some, haven't we?
Yes, Trump is a charlatan, one whose gambit has lasted far too long. But he's now a charlatan exposed. Even if he is the last to know or admit it, it is over for him. So, in a perversely positive sense, I suppose our politics have prevailed. Through the rigors of this presidential election cycle, the flaws and character defects of the candidates have been revealed for all to see. Both candidates have them, but for only one are they unquestionably disqualifying.
And this is where your responsibility kicks in. Despite the numbness, anger, incredulity — despite the malaise you may be justifiably experiencing as a result of politics-at-its-worst — you have the power to make it better, to demand better, to engage, to choose. You have the power to vote.
Yes, there is imperfection in every direction, but the very first lesson of politics is that there is no perfection, only choice. Here and now, in your first or second presidential election, the choice is yours and couldn't be clearer. With your vote, you may choose to reject misogyny, fearmongering and narcissism. And you may choose instead something not perfect, but better. You have the opportunity as a new voter in a great democracy to lead by example, and perhaps provide a beacon for the adults in a dark room who have never been more lost and divided.
Bill O'Brien is a lawyer and lives in Minneapolis. Two of his daughters will be voting for the first time.
