As we enter the surreal early stages of Donald Trump's second term as President, the aftermath of the 2024 election continues to spark intense discussion about why voters were dissatisfied with the economy under the incumbent Democratic Party. While macroeconomic statistics suggested a robust recovery—marked by strong GDP growth, record job creation, and historically low unemployment rates—the lived experiences and emotional perceptions of many Americans painted a starkly different picture. This dissonance raises critical questions about how voters interpret economic conditions and what factors ultimately shape their political decisions. This disconnect proved politically devastating for the Biden administration, underscoring the limitations of relying solely on “objective” economic metrics to gauge public sentiment or secure electoral support.
Conventional wisdom among media pundits during the election season last year posited that a strong economy neatly translates to a strong electoral performance from the incumbent, as if individuals act as neutral receptors of macroeconomic conditions, voting based on whether their material well-being has improved under the incumbent's tenure. According to this view, GDP growth, employment rates, and other statistical indicators are the key determinants of voter behavior. If people perceive their economic situation as better than it was before, they are likely to support the incumbent; if not, they will seek change. This intuitive theory obscures the relationship between economics and political ideology. They assume that man acts as homo economicus, treating economic data as the primary if not sole driver of voter decisions. It fails to account for the role of narratives and moral frameworks that shape how individuals interpret and respond to economic realities.
Another theory among Democratic Party partisan pundits dismissed negative outlooks on the economy as the "vibecession," claiming that these sentiments are purely subjective, shaped by social media “echo chambers” and emotional contagion rather than any tangible economic downturn. They point to strong GDP figures and low unemployment rates as evidence that the economy is thriving, even though many Americans express immense dissatisfaction. This theory treats economics and ideology as entirely separated entities. While economic data cannot be used as crude determinants of voter sentiment, it is hard to believe they can be dismissed entirely.
Historian Adam Tooze well describes the useful, but limited, nature of economic data:
"Statistics are not mirrors of reality, nor are they the same as what they describe. They are engineered and based on connections with the reality that they capture for us. They are like the speedometer on a car or the small wheel on an old-fashioned bicycle that measures speed. The relationship between statistics and economic reality is similar in that the data tell us about the world because they are mechanically related to it, built into it, integrated, part of it within it."1
Tooze's insight underscores that economic data is not merely a reflection of reality but is constructed through the process of knowledge-making. It is a representation that is intrinsically linked to the world it describes, yet constantly innovated upon and reinterpreted by various ‘stakeholders.’ Understanding the 2024 election requires moving beyond simplistic dichotomies and embracing the interplay between economic conditions and the moral narratives that give them meaning. Only by doing so can we begin to grasp the full complexity of how voters will determine the future of the United States.
This interplay between subjective perceptions and objective economic realities is further illuminated by John Maynard Keynes’s concept of “animal spirits,” which refers to the psychological and emotional factors that drive economic decision-making. For Keynes, these “animal spirits” are not merely ancillary to economic behavior but are central to understanding why economies fluctuate and how individuals respond to uncertainty. In times of volatility, such as during periods of inflation or financial insecurity, people’s confidence—or lack thereof—can shape their economic actions more profoundly than any set of statistical indicators. Keynes highlights the limitations of relying solely on “objective” data, as these figures fail to capture the emotional undercurrents that influence consumer spending and investment decisions. This can be extended to understand voter sentiment, where subjective perceptions and emotional responses also shape how individuals interpret economic realities and make political choices. By recognizing the role of ‘animal spirits,’ we see that economic subjectivity is not an external distortion of reality but an intrinsic component of it—a reminder that what we call “the economy” is as much a product of human psychology and collective storytelling as it is of measurable transactions and outputs.
Consider the history of the use of GDP as a statistic. It was initially developed during the Great Depression as a wartime measure, and was solidified as one of the key indicators of economic success after World War II, when countries began focusing on measuring economic production to assess their military capabilities. Simon Kuznets, who created the national income accounts that inspired GDP, warned Congress about its limitations, noting that it did not account for income distribution or quality of life improvements. Financialization also complicates GDP's ability to reflect actual goods and services or worker prosperity; financial activities contribute to GDP without necessarily improving living standards for most citizens. As James K. Galbraith and Jing Chen observe in Entropy Economics, “despite the obvious importance of physical resources, mainstream economic theories often pay little attention to them. Indeed, standard measures of economic activity, the national income accounting which underpins our concept of gross domestic product (GDP), treats all market-based activities as equivalent in dollar terms.” They further note that “industries such as mining, energy production, and agriculture—critical to sustaining human life—are treated as practically negligible within the broader economy.” This disconnect highlights the need for continuous refinement and innovation in economic research—it emphasizes that our understanding of economic data is always a work in progress. Metrics such as GDP are designed to provide a snapshot of economic conditions. Still, they are far from perfect reflections of economic reality and thus do not adequately reflect the subjective experiences of individuals.
While macroeconomic indicators like GDP growth and unemployment rates painted a picture of economic recovery under the Biden administration, these figures masked significant disparities in how Americans experienced the economy. As a recent Politico article noted, 'The disconnect between ‘hard’ government numbers and popular perception has spurred skepticism about whether those statistics properly capture the realities defining unemployment, wage growth, and the strength of the economy as a whole.”2 This skepticism is well-founded: alternative analyses reveal that nearly one in four workers was functionally unemployed. Median wages were 16% lower than reported when part-time and unemployed workers were included. Findings such as these underscore the inadequacy of relying on these traditional economic metrics to explain voter dissatisfaction.
This disconnect becomes even clearer when examining specific factors that shaped voters' economic outlooks. Inflation, which surged between 2021 and 2023, eroded purchasing power and made everyday goods and services more expensive. Even after inflation cooled, its lingering effects had already taken a toll. Real wages—wages measured in terms of what they can actually buy—declined, even as nominal wage growth appeared to rise in official statistics. This divergence demonstrates the main flaw in the metrics used to suggest a strong economy: they are fundamentally tied to monetary values rather than actual improvements in quality of life. For many households, this reduction in purchasing power translated into a diminished quality of life, though it did not show up dramatically in aggregate wage growth figures. Compounding these challenges was the expiration of the temporary safety nets implemented during the COVID-19 crisis. Enhanced unemployment benefits and stimulus checks, which had provided crucial support during the pandemic, were withdrawn, leaving many individuals struggling to make ends meet once again. As economist Nathan Tankus aptly observed, 'Voters hate temporary safety nets because they know they’re temporary and insufficient.’3 It’s no surprise that metrics like GDP and unemployment rates failed to reflect the precarious financial situations countless Americans face.
While inflation and the expiration of pandemic-era safety nets created tangible financial pressures, the disconnect between positive macroeconomic indicators and public dissatisfaction demonstrates that voter sentiment is shaped not just by economic conditions in of themselves, but also by the narratives and ideologies used to interpret them. The subjective experience of economic well-being is shaped by personal narratives and ideological perceptions and not just raw numbers—a reminder that there is rarely, if ever, a clean alignment between statistical indicators and voter sentiment. The Biden administration struggled to convince many Americans that their economic situation had genuinely improved, highlighting the limitations of relying solely on technical achievements to sway public opinion. By insisting that ‘sound’ macroeconomic management policies delivered satisfactory results, the Biden campaign adopted what can be described as a ‘technocratic’ approach. They assumed that voters would naturally recognize and reward good economic outcomes without requiring additional ideological framing or emotional resonance.4 This assumption proved flawed. For millions of Americans, the experience of inflation, stagnant real wages, and evaporating pandemic-era safety nets overshadowed the positive headline figures. When confronted with voter dissatisfaction, the administration often dismissed these concerns as irrational or misinformed, failing to engage with the deeper anxieties driving them.5 In doing so, they missed an opportunity to craft a compelling ideological narrative that connected their economic policies to broader moral values like, for example, fairness, dignity, or shared prosperity.
Similarly, proponents of the “vibescession” theory express the same error, suggesting that ideology and perception exist independently of economic conditions. This perspective overlooks how subjective economic experiences—such as stagnant wages, rising costs, and evaporating safety nets—are inseparable from the narratives people use to make sense of their lived circumstances. Just as strong economic outcomes cannot guarantee electoral success without an accompanying ethico-political vision, ideology alone cannot fully explain or address the anxieties of voters who face real, material hardships. Only by recognizing the intrinsic unity of economics and ideology can we begin to grasp the full complexity of how individuals make decisions about the future of their country. Economics cannot be divorced from ideology. Whether through the Democrats’ technocratic reliance on macroeconomic data or Trump’s emotionally charged appeals to national pride, both campaigns demonstrated that voter behavior is shaped not just by ‘material conditions’ but by the stories we tell about them. This insight has profound implications not only for electoral politics but also for any political movement that seeks to fundamentally transform society. Economic data alone, therefore, does not determine voter behavior. What matters most is how that data is interpreted through the lens of cultural narratives and moral frameworks. Biden’s reliance on technocratic explanations failed to resonate because it ignored the subjective experiences and emotional perceptions of many Americans. Meanwhile, Trump’s embrace of ideological storytelling, which no doubt veered into outright lying (admittedly a severe understatement), allowed him to channel economic discontent into a broader political movement.
Consider the efforts of progressive organizations like the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA), whose local activism often centers on tangible economic benefits—lower rents, higher wages, universal healthcare—as ‘pathways’ to building support for socialism. While these goals are undeniably important, they fall into the same trap as the Biden/Kamala campaign: they fail to connect economic policies to a broader ideological vision. By focusing exclusively on material gains without addressing the cultural, moral, and emotional dimensions of politics, such movements risk reducing socialism to a set of economic policy prescriptions rather than the project to elevate humanity to a “higher and more total form of civilization.” This tendency toward economism—the belief that economic issues alone drive political behavior—completely overlooks the complexity of human motivations and action. To move beyond this limited worldview, we must examine how narratives and ideologies shape people’s perceptions of even “concrete” economic facts. Only then can we begin to build a movement that speaks, not just to people’s wallets, but to their values, identities, and aspirations.
This economistic approach contrasts sharply with the strategies employed by the political right during the 2024 election. Consider how inflation—a fundamentally economic issue—was reframed through a deeply ideological lens. Conservatives did not just argue that rising prices were bad, they tied inflation to deeper cultural anxieties about immigration, globalization, and national decline. By scapegoating immigrants and proposing sweeping tariffs under the banner of “Making America Strong Again,” they transformed a dry statistical indicator into a rallying cry for their base. Similarly, protectionist policies were framed not as mere economic tools but as symbols of masculinity and patriotism. These narratives succeeded because they spoke to voters’ identities, values, and fears—not just their economic well-being.
Socialists must do more than promise better material conditions—they must articulate why those conditions matter in the first place. Unfortunately, much of the DSA’s activism lacks this ideological depth. Instead of presenting socialism as an ideological vision that identifies with people’s subjective experiences, it often reduces the movement to a series of discrete economic demands. Economism also reflects a broader challenge facing the American left: the absence of a unifying narrative that can compete with the right’s powerful weaponization of economics to further their ideological goals. As long as socialists focus exclusively on material gains without addressing the cultural and moral dimensions of politics, they risk ceding ground to opponents who understand that ideology shapes how people interpret even the most “objective” economic realities; or as Gramsci puts it, "they forget that the thesis which asserts that men become conscious of fundamental conflicts on the terrain of ideologies is not psychological or moralistic in character, but structural and epistemological.”6
To move beyond economism, the socialist movement must embrace a more comprehensive approach. This means developing messaging that speaks to people’s values, aspirations, and sense of identity—not just their bank accounts. It also means investing in storytelling, media, cultural production, and the cultivation of public intellectuals to counteract the pervasive influence of right-wing content. Finally, it requires building coalitions with movements focused on racial justice, trans and queer rights, climate action, and other non-economic issues, recognizing that socialism must address the full spectrum of human experience to succeed.
Ultimately, no "objective" economic reality exists independently of the subjective perceptions through which we interpret it. The world is not mediated through subjectivity; rather, subjectivity is internal to the world itself. Economic data—whether GDP growth, unemployment rates, or inflation figures—is often treated as an external, immutable truth, a mirror of reality. Yet, as Tooze noted, statistics are not mirrors but constructions and representations intricately linked to the social, cultural, and ideological frameworks within which they are created and understood. And as Richard Rorty and Robert Brandom have argued in their critiques of conceptual schemes, there is no neutral framework through which we access an unmediated "reality." Instead, our understanding of the world is always already shaped by the interpretive tools we use—tools that are themselves part of the world they describe.
This challenges the superficial dichotomy between "objective" economic conditions and "subjective" voter sentiment. Inflation, for example, is not merely a statistical phenomenon measured by the Consumer Price Index; it is also a lived experience shaped by rising grocery bills, rent hikes, and evaporating safety nets. Similarly, unemployment figures do not exist in isolation from the stories people tell themselves about work, dignity, and opportunity—or lack thereof. These narratives are not secondary to economic reality; they constitute its very fabric. To treat them as separate is to misunderstand how individuals navigate their lives and make decisions about the future. The failure of liberals to recognize this unity of subjectivity and objectivity proved costly. By relying on technocratic, “objective” explanations and dismissing voter dissatisfaction as irrational or misinformed, they overlooked the ways in which economic realities are always already embedded within moral frameworks, cultural anxieties, and personal identities. Meanwhile, the political right skillfully weaponized economics by reframing issues like inflation and trade through the lens of nationalism, masculinity, and patriotism. Their success demonstrates that ideology is not an overlay on economic reality, but an integral part of it.
There is no outside world untouched by human interpretation, no "pure" economic reality that exists apart from the meanings we assign to it. Subjectivity is not a filter distorting an otherwise pristine economic reality—it is part of that reality. What we call "the economy" is not a neutral entity but a web of relationships, experiences, and stories that shape—and are shaped by—the lives of individuals. Recognizing this interconnectedness is not just an intellectual exercise; it is a practical necessity for anyone seeking to build a better future. Whether through policymaking, activism, or storytelling, the task ahead is clear: to create a vision of socialism that honors the full complexity of human existence, where material gains and moral values are inseparable, and where the subjective and the objective are understood as one. To build a better future, we must craft narratives that realize this complexity, speaking not just to people’s wallets but to their sense of purpose, dignity, and shared humanity. In doing so, we move closer to a vision of prosperity that transcends superficial divisions and embraces the full richness of human experience.
1 - https://adamtooze.substack.com/p/chartbook-341-on-thinking-in-medias
2- https://www.politico.com/news/magazine/2025/02/11/democrats-tricked-strong-economy-00203464
3 - https://www.crisesnotes.com/one-election-takeaway-voters-hate-temporary-safety-nets/
4 - One can take a look at this recent X.com post for a good example: https://x.com/kenklippenstein/status/1895733006775783759?s=46
5 - cf. Trump and the Media: A Review
6 - Gramsci, Selections from the Prison Notebooks, International Publishers, p.164
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