The Paradox of Political Harm
In 2025, many Americans are grappling with shrinking safety nets, unaffordable healthcare, stagnant wages, and escalating costs for food and housing. At the same time, millions cast their votes in support of political leaders whose platforms promised to cut, privatize, or deregulate the very programs that offer support in hard times.
This contradiction isn’t simply a result of ignorance or misinformation—it’s a powerful reflection of how political language and emotional identity shape voter behavior. In this piece, we explore how rhetorical framing becomes more influential than lived experience, and why people often vote against their own material interests in the name of values that feel morally right.
The Power of Political Storytelling
Politics is not just about legislation. It’s about narrative. Voters don’t just evaluate policies—they internalize stories that explain the world around them. These stories tell them:
- Who is deserving
- Who is dangerous
- Who works hard
- Who takes advantage
Politicians who use effective storytelling can create moral frameworks that feel deeply personal. This is how platforms built on dismantling public support can still feel like a vote for fairness, justice, or order.
Phrases like “get people back to work,” “cut government waste,” or “let families keep what they earn” sound sensible. But they obscure the fact that these narratives often lead to budget cuts, coverage gaps, and fewer services for the very voters who cheered them.
Identity Over Self-Interest
For many Americans, voting is not primarily about economic self-interest—it’s about identity.
People vote as who they believe they are, not just what they need. A person making $30,000 a year may still vote against food assistance expansions if they see themselves as someone who “makes it without help.” They may believe that accepting aid, or even supporting it, implies moral weakness or failure.
In this frame, voting for politicians who promise austerity isn’t self-sabotage—it’s a reaffirmation of identity. It says: “I work hard. I don’t need handouts. I want accountability.”
The “Undeserving Poor” and the Language of Division
This sense of identity is often reinforced by the narrative of the “undeserving other.” For decades, political rhetoric has leaned on tropes like:
- The “welfare queen”
- The “able-bodied adult who won’t work”
- “Illegals using our benefits”
These narratives cultivate resentment. They suggest that the real problem isn’t poverty or inequality—it’s other people getting help they don’t deserve.
Even among those receiving public benefits, this framing is internalized. People will say things like, “I need this, but I know a lot of people abuse it.” The assumption is that they are the exception—the system is flawed because of someone else.
When public programs are cut or made harder to access, the change feels just—even when it causes real harm.
The Moral Appeal of Austerity
“Efficiency,” “discipline,” “self-reliance”—these are virtues that many Americans see as core to their identity. Politicians know this, and they use language that ties policy decisions to moral values.
Cutting social programs becomes a sign of courage. Removing regulations becomes a way to free people. Work requirements are framed as restoring dignity.
The actual outcomes—fewer people with healthcare, more red tape, families slipping into poverty—are dismissed as unfortunate but necessary sacrifices.
When Belief Meets Bureaucracy
Eventually, some voters experience the consequences of the policies they supported. They lose Medicaid after a missed document. Their child loses access to a school lunch program. Their neighborhood clinic closes due to lack of funding.
But rather than blame the policy, they often blame the government itself: the agency, the caseworker, the bureaucratic process. Or they blame themselves.
This is the genius of rhetorical framing—it insulates policymakers from blame by redefining the problem as bad implementation or individual failure.
The Human Cost of Narrative-Driven Policy
The effects are not abstract. They’re deeply personal:
- Seniors in rural areas losing long-term care support
- Single mothers cut off from food assistance over a missed re-certification
- Veterans facing homelessness as housing support is limited
- Students going without meals or school supplies due to budget reallocations
These aren’t inevitable outcomes. They are the result of a collective decision to support policies that sound morally upright but strip away security.
Reframing the Frame
We won’t change minds by telling people they’re wrong. But we can change the conversation by asking better questions:
- Who benefits from the stories we believe?
- What would it mean to value dignity over discipline?
- How do we measure strength—not just by who survives without help, but by who ensures no one is left behind?
We need a new frame—one where helping each other isn’t shameful, but honorable. Where safety nets aren’t signs of dependency, but symbols of a society that doesn’t abandon its people.
Because when rhetoric resonates more than reality, the cost isn’t just policy—it’s people. And it’s time we start telling a better story.
