The year is 1984. You turn on the TV, take the Walkman out of your ears, and are greeted by a calming voice as pastel-colored, grainy images of people living the American Dream come to life. A boy riding a bike tosses a newspaper, a beautiful couple gets married, and proud citizens raise American flags. You are watching Ronald Reagan’s iconic 1984 campaign ad, “Morning Again in America.” Reagan is running against Walter Mondale for reelection.
Reagan went on to crush Mondale in a landslide, winning every state except Minnesota and cementing his place in political history. His landslide victory had more to do with a booming economy, job creation, and Mondale’s poorly run campaign than the advertisements Reagan ran. Nonetheless, the “Morning Again in America” campaign is noteworthy in that it teaches us an important lesson about the role nostalgia plays in politics.
The images in the ad did not reflect the reality of life in America in 1984; The 1980s were far from a rosy, picket-fenced paradise. The Cold War had reached new heights, the AIDS epidemic was devastating communities, and the Iran-Contra affair was unraveling behind the scenes. The ad’s imagery recalled American life as it was portrayed in early sitcoms like “Leave it to Beaver” and “The Donna Reed Show”: thriving Americans move into suburban homes with white picket fences, happily carpool with their neighbors, drive tractors on farms, and visit log cabins.
It was an America with vast inequality, racism, and class disparity. An America that skips over the heated struggles for racial justice that defined an era and the “good old days” never existed. An all-white America is not everyone’s utopia, to say the least.
There has never been a time of pure prosperity and peace in America. We are a country of constant turmoil, where change is always brewing — sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse.
Nostalgia is a powerful drug, one that Donald Trump still uses when he tells us that he will “Make America Great Again,” a phrase he picked up from Reagan himself. The question, of course, is: great for whom? The answer does not seem to be the American people. In both his first and current terms, Trump has repeatedly prioritized the top 1% — who already control nearly 30% of the nation’s wealth — over everyday Americans. Whether it be letting Elon Musk and his Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) agenda ravage Social Security and Medicare or stripping funding from vital programs, he has consistently put corporate interests above the needs of ordinary citizens, proving that his version of “greatness” comes at the expense of the most vulnerable.
Trump won the popular vote and performed particularly well with the white working class. In large part, Donald utilized nostalgia in his campaign. For those who feel insecure — especially the white working class in recent years — it evokes a past that never truly existed but seems better in hindsight. As society has become more equal and disadvantaged groups have made significant progress, many white Americans, particularly men, feel as though they have had something stolen from them, a privilege that they inherently deserve. Much of white America wishes for the “good old days.”
Whether re-reading old messages from a toxic ex and convincing yourself to text them again or scrolling through photos from 2020 and thinking fondly back to our long hair during the pandemic, nostalgia can lead us to make some odd decisions. Politicians know this. It is essential that we stay present, both in life and in politics. We must see the world as it truly is, not as it is nostalgically sold to us. Otherwise, we risk being deceived — again and again — by candidates who promise to bring back a past that never was.
The year is 1984. You turn on the TV, take the Walkman out of your ears, and are greeted by a calming voice as pastel-colored, grainy images of people living the American Dream come to life. A boy riding a bike tosses a newspaper, a beautiful couple gets married, and proud citizens raise American flags. You are watching Ronald Reagan’s iconic 1984 campaign ad, “Morning Again in America.” Reagan is running against Walter Mondale for reelection.
Reagan went on to crush Mondale in a landslide, winning every state except Minnesota and cementing his place in political history. His landslide victory had more to do with a booming economy, job creation, and Mondale’s poorly run campaign than the advertisements Reagan ran. Nonetheless, the Morning Again in America campaign is noteworthy in that it teaches us an important lesson about the role nostalgia plays in politics.
The images in the ad did not reflect the reality of life in America in 1984; The 1980s were far from a rosy, picket-fenced paradise. The Cold War had reached new heights, the AIDS epidemic was devastating communities, and the Iran-Contra affair was unraveling behind the scenes. The ad’s imagery recalled American life as it was portrayed in early sitcoms like “Leave it to Beaver” and “The Donna Reed Show”: thriving Americans move into suburban homes with white picket fences, happily carpool with their neighbors, drive tractors on farms, and visit log cabins.
It was an America with vast inequality, racism, and class disparity. An America that skips over the heated struggles for racial justice that defined an era and the “good old days” never existed. An all-white America is not everyone’s utopia, to say the least.
There has never been a time of pure prosperity and peace in America. We are a country of constant turmoil, where change is always brewing—sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse.
Nostalgia is a powerful drug, one that Donald Trump still uses when he tells us that he will “Make America Great Again,” a phrase he picked up from Reagan himself. The question, of course, is: great for whom? The answer does not seem to be the American people. In both his first and current terms, Trump has repeatedly prioritized the top 1%—who already control nearly 30% of the nation’s wealth—over everyday Americans. Whether it be letting Elon Musk and his Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) agenda ravage Social Security and Medicare or stripping funding from vital programs, he has consistently put corporate interests above the needs of ordinary citizens, proving that his version of “greatness” comes at the expense of the most vulnerable.
Trump won the popular vote and performed particularly well with the white working class. In large part, Donald utilized nostalgia in his campaign. For those who feel insecure—especially the white working class in recent years—it evokes a past that never truly existed but seems better in hindsight. As society has become more equal and disadvantaged groups have made significant progress, many white Americans, particularly men, feel as though they have had something stolen from them, a privilege that they inherently deserve. Much of white America wishes for the “good old days.”
Whether re-reading old messages from a toxic ex and convincing yourself to text them again or scrolling through photos from 2020 and thinking fondly back to our long hair during the pandemic, nostalgia can lead us to make some odd decisions. Politicians know this. It is essential that we stay present, both in life and in politics. We must see the world as it truly is, not as it is nostalgically sold to us. Otherwise, we risk being deceived—again and again—by candidates who promise to bring back a past that never was.
