Huddled around a table in our kitchen, decorated with a half-drank bottle of Jameson and a half-finished Settlers of Catan game, my roommates and I—all Americans studying abroad in Dublin—watched Donald J. Trump be elected president. When Wisconsin went red, and it was apparent that we were witnessing the greatest upset in a presidential election in modern United States political history, I decided to puncture the silence that had taken over the room.
“I told you so,” I said in the same manner as a kindergarten student who correctly predicted a snow day says to his parents after receiving an automated call from the principal’s office. I did not consider the election results an “upset.” It became clear to me that Trump would win, when I myself was almost driven to vote for him. I knew that if I could come so close to voting for Trump, and only not do so because of a last-second esoteric connection I drew to Ancient Greek history, enough people in America would “pull the lever.”
After I uttered the obnoxious idiom, the silence returned. Only to be broken yet again when my roommates asked if I bet on a Trump victory. After a week of tolerating my rants about the “silent majority” and the “imminence” of Trump’s election, which seemed crazy at the time, they wished to know if I had taken advantage of the 4/1 odds that Paddy Power—the preferred Irish bookmaker—gave on Trump winning the presidency.
A lot of people in Ireland seized the opportunity to quadruple their money by betting on Trump; however, I was not one of them. Although betting on political races is legal in the Emerald Isle—unlike in America—it still seemed wrong to me. As I explained why I chose not to carry myself into Paddy Power with a 50 Euro note for a Trump presidency, my roommates insisted that I made the wrong decision. “It’s going to happen anyways,” they collectively chimed. However, despite their realistic take on the democratic process, I chose to adopt a more idealistic perspective, which I reflected in my vote for the independent presidential candidate Evan McMullin.
Betting on the election would necessarily associate me with an outcome, as well as degrade the integrity of the process in which I, as well as more than 120 million Americans, took part almost a week ago. Realistically, “[the outcome was] going to happen anyways,” and my singular vote—potentially influenced by monetary prospects—is virtually meaningless but, idealistically, I would be shorting my country.
When I use the term “short,” invoking imagery of the Wall Street bankers who bet against market-based mortgage-backed securities in the lead-up to the 2008 financial crisis, I am not saying that betting on Trump would have been betting against America, but rather equating the act of betting on elections to the decline of American values. A vote is meant to represent a reflection of one’s ethics. When one enters their polling place and shades in the empty oval to the left of a candidate’s name, they are making a statement about which candidate best reflects the values that our country ought to embody. I could not let that statement be affected by possibly becoming 150 euros richer or any other relatively insignificant motivation. For this reason, I was comfortable realistically “throwing my vote away” on the third-party candidate who best reflected my values, but uncomfortable profiting off democracy. In an ideal world, my vote meant something and I took a stand against the undermining my country’s sacred elective process.
In an ideal world, after successfully shorting America, I would stroll into Paddy Power to collect my winnings with the swagger of Ryan Gosling’s character from “The Big Short.” In reality, I would hand in the receipt for my bet with the shaky uneasiness of Steve Carell’s character.
As my roommates and I sat around the table and watched state after state be declared in favor of Trump, I only became more confident in my decision not to be on the election outcome, while they became more questioning. As unexpected, controversial and potentially lucrative the result was, I am glad to know that American institutions function as they are supposed to, uncorrupted by external factors. Despite dubious propaganda pushed by both sides, a system that lends itself to disputable outcomes and the omnipresent temptation of the mighty dollar, the American people produced a winner in a fair and free election.
It would be nice to have an extra few euros to blow at the pub, but it is even nicer to know that American democracy works as intended. I’ll buy my next pint with a clear conscience, and toast it to America, too.
Jacob Weiss is a Trinity junior studying abroad in Dublin. His column, "ulysses," usually runs on alternate Thursdays.
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Jacob Weiss is a Trinity senior. His column, "not jumping to any conclusions," runs on alternate Fridays.