Strange Political Bedfellows Aren’t That Strange in the Season of the New Nihilism

Over the course of a decade defined by the outlandish and dreamlike world of Trump-era America, one of the most odd moments yet could well be last month’s meeting between President Trump and soon-to-be New York Mayor Zoran Mamdani. Hyped as a confrontation similar to what we might witness on the White House Lawn in the future, the gathering was anything but—it felt more like a mutual admiration fest.

Maybe it’s not all that surprising that personal rapport and connection can overrule political beliefs. Take James Carville and Mary Matalin—Mamdani and Trump aren’t too different from that pair.

What’s even more uncanny than their bromance, though, is the potential overlap between Trump’s and Mamdani’s supporter bases, with exit polls indicating that overlap falls somewhere in the . Once the surface-level chemistry fades, policy differences and the clash between Mamdani’s New York priorities and Trump’s federal agenda will probably derail their friendly dynamic.

It’s only then that the complete lack of political consistency in this alliance will become obvious—and that’s exactly the point in a 21st century where political discourse is growing more fragmented by the day. Today, each side retreats to their social media echo chamber and “picks their champion” based on style of combat or what they’re opposing, not necessarily what they stand for.

Mamdani and Trump say they’re united in solving “affordability” issues, but “affordability” is just the newest trendy term—a stand-in for the idea that modern society’s layers and the American Dream no longer serve people as they once did.

The “quiet quitting” trend of the early 2020s has evolved, and in workplaces, it’s become “.” Everywhere you look, there are signs that people feel the promises and offerings made to them no longer work—even in the limited ways the system is supposed to benefit anyone. There’s no consensus on the best way to measure real unemployment. At the same time, has reached an all-time high since that statistic began being tracked.

Distrust in institutions is only adding to the nihilism that’s been a cornerstone of American life for at least a decade. Did it start with Trump’s election? Or maybe with Obama’s, when we were sold on “hopey changey” promises and told “we are the ones we’ve been waiting for.” Did we ever actually get there?

Trump’s question—“What have you got to lose?”—struck a chord, regardless of his crudeness, his willingness to insult groups or individuals for political gain or personal spite, or the mainstream media’s efforts to condemn him for it. It wasn’t until he took office in 2017 (or returned in 2025) that those who felt they’d already lost everything realized they could lose even more.

All the while, as we were distracted by the cult of personality sideshow—one that consumed half the country and pushed the other half into loud but inactive resistance—“American Greatness” stayed just out of reach, as it always had.

It’s no surprise that 21st-century “right track/wrong track” polls haven’t exceeded 50% (unless you put stock in Rasmussen’s polls during Trump’s tenure). The old fear is that a national Depression might hit soon, but the real issue is a national mood of despair. We’re living with what The Simpsons once joked about regarding Jimmy Carter: permanent malaise.

To rise and succeed in this climate, leaders must confront an economy and society where countless people are checking out—with the most extreme cases resembling Luigi Mangione or Nick Reiner. Nihilism affects both the poor and the rich, causing chaos and negative consequences for everyone else, regardless of income.

Leaders can’t just ask if we’re better off than we were four years ago—they need to ask if we’re better off than we were 20 or 40 years ago. That’s what “Make America Great Again” truly meant to Trump’s economically focused supporters, even as his critics highlight the racist undertones and the fact that life wasn’t great for many people 20 or 40 years back. Whether you’re cheering Trump on as he petty insults his foes or you’re the one insulting him, he’s become a figure of divisive hatred that’s led to widespread passivity, weakened resistance, online harassment, or all three.

But the staged drama (or “kayfabe”) will go on for both sides until morale shifts, with leaders focusing on their public speaking skills instead of actual fixes. Gavin Newsom’s rise to become his party’s 2028 frontrunner after mimicking Trump’s online style says something about this trend. No matter who wins or loses in the coming election cycles, they’ll almost certainly take the wrong lessons from Trump—and probably profit from it. So then, who will we have to blame?