I have spent most of the last week on Zoom calls with accountants in New York, trying to figure out the personal finance implications of moving to the UK – lugging dual citizenship behind me. (Short version: they’re not good.) Since these conversations deal with economic outcomes it has felt, as a matter of form, necessary to mention that given the US just elected a maniac, at some level – don’t we think? – all bets are off. Joking not-joking: we can talk about pensions or college savings until the cows come home but really, why aren’t we screaming? A remark that has elicited, to a man, either blank looks or cheerful entreaties not to be so alarmist.
It is three weeks since the presidential election and, crazy cabinet picks aside, Americans are in that strange interim period where normality resumes, and it is possible to convince ourselves that actually this might not be so bad. The markets are holding steady, helped by a sensible pick for treasury secretary (unlike other Trump cabinet picks, Scott Bessent, a billionaire hedge fund manager, has – so far as we know – never been accused of sexual assault, had a white nationalist tattoo, or taken part in an exhibition wrestling match). Trump’s threats to tear up the script on tariffs and immigration on day one are unnerving, but his follow-through skills can be weak. Technically, he’s a lame duck president. And so on. Meanwhile, real life continues.
These rationalisations are partly necessary to avoid panic or paralysis, but of course they also serve an exculpatory purpose. The spectacle of Joe Scarborough and Mika Brzezinski, co-hosts of the fiercely anti-Trump MSNBC show Morning Joe, beetling down to Mar-a-Lago to meet with the president-elect as fast as their little legs could carry them, was presented by the pair as a necessary piece of journalistic engagement. (Neither reported on what was said at the meeting, although presumably it was sunnier in tone than the time Trump called Brzezinski “low IQ crazy Mika”, and described her as “bleeding badly from a face-lift”, or the time the Morning Joe team called Trump a fascist.)
Obviously the hack part of me understands the reason for going – just as, 20 years ago, I’d quite like to have read OJ Simpson’s mea culpa I Did It, before all 400,000 copies were pulped. Still, in certain corners of the New York media, there is an unmistakable glee – a gimlet-eyed relish – afoot about what a drama-filled Trump presidency will do for ratings. These are people who backed Kamala Harris but, finding themselves equally if not better served by a Trump administration, can’t quite contain their excitement.
And while, as David Lammy found out, diplomacy is now a necessary part of protecting a raft of interests, there is still sleight of hand at play. Under the auspices of pragmatic engagement, or “holding Trump to account”, or the reasonable accommodation of a new American reality, there is the usual sucking up to money and power. Despite Trump’s conviction that the entire mainstream media is against him, it seems unlikely that he will be sitting alone in a ballroom at the White House Correspondents’ dinner next April while the US news media takes a stand. Laughing-face emoji, crying-face emoji.
What then are we supposed to be doing, now we have moved on from Jimmy Kimmel’s big swimmy-eyed face and Stephen Colbert’s this-is-serious-kids voice the day after the election? While Democrats regroup and try to figure out where to go from here, the rest of us remain in limbo. For those in the privileged position of not being in Trump’s immediate crosshairs, “make as much money as possible,” was the suggestion of Scott Galloway on the podcast, Pivot, last week. He pointed to the Onion’s $1.75m bid to buy InfoWars from conspiracy theorist, Alex Jones, and turn it into a vehicle for mocking Jones and other pro-Trumpers – an example of how money enables action.
And it’s true: sulking or ranting does nothing. Getting on with things may constitute a small act of resistance. And personal enrichment as a vehicle to counter Trump interests can, from certain angles, make sense – although of course a) how convenient! And b) it is such a quintessentially American solution to an American problem that you can’t help but smile.
Whether or not this period of relative stability lasts, my gloomy muttering on Zoom calls this week felt out of step with the vibe of chin up and whistle. I couldn’t help it. As a matter of pragmatism or realism, business as usual makes sense; on the other hand, can we still acknowledge how weird this all is? “If America goes down, you’ll take Britain’s economy down with you,” I said to one accountant, who replied cheerfully: “If America goes down we’ll be talking about where to get water, not fluctuations in the economy.” Fair point and one that – for now – we are at liberty to interpret as either reassuring or chilling, according to taste.
Emma Brockes is a Guardian columnist
