What The Hell America!

A DAY AFTER DONALD TRUMP called Bruce Springsteen a “pushy, obnoxious JERK” who “ought to KEEP HIS MOUTH SHUT,” I found myself in Manchester, England, for one of the opening shows of Springsteen’s “Land of Hopes and Dreams” tour.

It was a birthday surprise for my husband, Jim. And as we mingled on the floor of Co-op Live Arena, we talked with some American fans about why Springsteen’s tidy yet devastating critique of the Trump administration as “corrupt, incompetent, and treasonous” had drawn such a positive public reaction—and such an unsurprisingly churlish one from the president himself.

I speculated that it was a combination of things, including the way Springsteen presented his argument as a patriotic defense (and not a condemnation) of “the America I love.” Then, too, many Americans are simply hungry for some unequivocal pushback.

But for me, the real power of Bruce’s remarks could be found in one line: “We will survive this moment.”

Survive. The concept hit me with a wave of relief. It was a courageous affirmation of the exceptional nature of America when I needed to hear it most. Even as he acknowledged the ways the president has undermined democracy, and the failures of our system of checks and balances to protect the country from a demagogue, Springsteen was saying there is an innate resilience in the American people. Surviving is what we do.

And he said this at a time when that core belief has been shaken. Springsteen has always been attuned to trouble in America, and he had an early understanding of Trump’s appeal. In September 2016, he told Rolling Stone that he thought the country was paying a price “for not addressing the real cost of [American] deindustrialization and globalization.” Trump’s solutions were “fallacious,” he noted, but they offered hope to people who had been deeply hurt by these economic changes.

I read those comments during Hillary Clinton’s debate prep at the Doral Arrowwood Resort in Westchester County and found their truthfulness devastating. It was one of the few moments during the 2016 campaign that I thought we were going to lose. Another time was when Springsteen echoed these same themes during a performance of the song “Long Walk Home”—which he now calls his “fighting prayer” for America—at a rally for Clinton the night before the election. The alienation and disappointment conveyed in the song seemed too overwhelming for our campaign to overcome.

And, indeed, we didn’t overcome them. Fast-forward eight years and here was Bruce again, now assuring us that we will, eventually, make it back home.

I choose to trust his gut more than my own.

FOR A FULL DECADE AND OVER THREE presidential campaigns, I have aided efforts to keep Donald Trump out of office—only to see him emerge as the winner of the 2024 election with more support than ever.

Not everything we did to try and stop him was a mistake. That is a simplistic way of looking at one of the most vexing political problems America has faced since the Civil War. Nevertheless, our efforts to defeat him failed. Keeping Trump from being re-elected to a cataclysmic second term was the singular focus of Resistance 1.0. For the better part of a decade, it kept everyone aligned and helped us to organize around a clear goal.

But now, we are no longer engaged in a debate; we are under assault. More Americans buy into his MAGA vision than ever, even as our arguments—that Trump would do everything from wreck the economy to ruin democracy—are being vindicated by his actions. What more is there to say? To combat Trump 2.0 effectively, we need a new direction.

Finding one has not been easy. The lack of a North Star for anti-Trump forces is one of the reasons it feels like Resistance 2.0 has floundered, or at least has failed to take real shape. My own failure to imagine a new approach has kept me on the sidelines of politics since the election last fall. I largely stopped doing television appearances and writing or even tweeting about politics. After thirty years working in the field, including five presidential campaigns and twelve years in the White House, I should have had something more sophisticated to contribute than “Yeah, Democrats should do more podcasts.” But I didn’t. And so, I have said very little.

I needed something to feel certain about. The idea of surviving “this moment” gave me that certainty.

What Bruce said sounded to me like a new North Star.

I am a believer in the power of a winning attitude in politics. The best presidential campaigns are built on it. If the candidate and staff expect to win, it affects every decision, producing leaders who are certain of what they believe in and what they are elected to do.

That’s what Bruce provided.

If we keep in mind during this second and more damaging Trump administration that we will eventually win, our mission becomes clearer: We must do what we can to protect America and limit the damage until we get to the other side.

It’s important and courageous for Springsteen to rebuke Trump, particularly when so many people in positions of power are busy kowtowing to him. Because every time he stands up to Trump—whether it is with the “corrupt, incompetent, treasonous” comments, or opening his set with “No Surrender” after Trump threatened him with an investigation, or mixing up the lyrics of “Wrecking Ball” from “come on, take your best shot, let me see what you’ve got” to “let me feel what you’ve got” to let Trump know his online attacks had not left a mark—Springsteen is also sending a lifeline to those of us who feel wholly alienated by Trump’s debasing of American values. We are not alone, he is saying. We can get through this.

It was that implicit commitment, his belief that America will make it through this “dangerous time” (and the lyrics of “Land of Hope and Dreams” where Bruce promises to “stand by your side”) that reduced me to tears of relief for three straight songs on the floor of the Co-op Live arena. It gave me a sense of agency I had not felt since Trump won the election in November. When Trump controls the White House, MAGA Republicans are running Congress, and we cannot count on the president even to follow court orders or the Constitution. It is hard to imagine any meaningful way Democrats can hold him accountable—but having faith America will make it through is a powerful act of resistance. If we don’t hold on to the belief that democracy will survive, we risk resigning ourselves to authoritarian rule. Faith in our democracy will help guide us through the rest of this administration. Because Trump will not be president forever.

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DONALD TRUMP IS AN ARCHETYPICAL Springsteen villain. He is the con man who preys on the vulnerable, the guy who ruined the boardwalk in “Atlantic City,” the “Rainmaker” who makes vulnerable people believe “white is black and black is white,” and, perhaps most aptly, the rich man who wants to be king from “Badlands,” which goes on to describe a king who will not be satisfied till he rules everything. But just as any Springsteen villain is never the focus of a song but the obstacle to be overcome, the Land of Hopes and Dreams tour isn’t just about Trump. It’s about how America survives him.

After opening his show with a litany of all the Trump administration has taken from us, an utterly defiant Springsteen spent the rest of it singing about the great things in America we will never let Trump own. It felt like he was telling the American people: We will define what it means to be an American, not Trump. The set list consists of songs that are decades old, in some cases, but have lyrics that resonate today. Because I am an obsessive fan, I kept notes on my phone of the lines Bruce seemed to give a special emphasis when he sang them. They add up to a kind of hymn to encourage us to hold on to faith in America now.

It goes like this:

• You will need a good companion for this part of the ride

• A little revenge and this too shall pass

• I walk the way I wanna walk

• Maybe everything that dies someday comes back

• Tell me, in a world without pity, do you think what I am asking is too much?

• He steals what he will never own

• Hold tight to your anger, don’t fall to your fears

• I make my way through this darkness, I can’t feel nothing but this chain that binds me

• Certain things are set in stone—who we are, what we’ll do and what we won’t

• I have made my vows to those who have come before

• May the truth ring out from every small-town bar

• This train, faith will be rewarded.

It is not a great time to be an American abroad. I was reminded of this when the security agent at the Manchester airport told me, “You can go ahead and put the eagle away.” He was pointing at the logo of my American passport. There was an edge in his voice that suggested he had been hoping for some time that America would get its comeuppance.

That America will always be the country that elected Donald Trump twice is humbling. The repercussions of those elections will be felt for decades to come. My Springsteen hymn is my way of holding on to the faith that it’s within our power to preserve the best part of America—even now.

This is not all a buildup to say, “I have seen the future of the Resistance, and its name is Bruce Springsteen.” (That said: Bruce, if you’re reading this. . .) But it’s clear that Americans depressed over Trump need inspiration to keep fighting. We’ve already seen some talented, committed leaders fill the void, like Senator Cory Booker with his history-making filibuster (Jersey is killing it!); America’s first pope, Leo XIV from Chicago, who almost certainly would not have been selected had Trump not won; and Harvard University’s ingenious response to the administration’s attacks: the offer of free online courses on civic engagement and the Constitution.

And so, I will do as a fan told me after the show, paraphrasing a lyric from “Does This Bus Stop at 82nd Street?” I will spread the word that “the dope is that there is still hope.” I will survive and fight for what comes next. I am not putting the eagle away.

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