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Issues like grocery prices and other “pocketbook” concerns matter deeply to voters—but only to a point. Beneath these surface-level issues lie fundamental, genetically ingrained values shaped by 750,000 years of human evolution. These “primordial values” are what make us distinctly human.
These primal instincts, deeply rooted in our biology, are the result of eons of evolutionary pressures. For instance, children don’t need to be taught to fear snakes; they instinctively avoid them. Such responses are hardwired for survival.
Among these ingrained values is an aversion to outsiders—those who look different, speak unfamiliar languages, or behave in ways that seem odd. Historically, encounters with outsiders often posed serious threats, as countless civilizations, like the Aztecs, learned to their peril. Xenophobia, then, is an evolutionary defense mechanism, while the modern push for diversity runs counter to these instincts.
The importance of family and kinship is another fundamental value. For most of human history, the state offered no protection for individuals or property. Survival depended on the support and protection of one’s family. Those without kin were often defenseless and, consequently, less likely to pass on their genes.
Equally vital is the instinct to protect the vulnerable. A society that fails to safeguard its most defenseless members—especially children and women—has no future. Human children, with their slow physical development, require prolonged care and protection. Similarly, women need protection from predators, both human and environmental. Societies that neglect these protections cannot endure.
A thriving society also requires shared beliefs, whether in the form of a common religion or a unifying national identity. Without a collective sense of morality, sacred symbols, and shared history, social cohesion disintegrates. A fragmented group of nihilistic individuals, who reject shared values, becomes easy prey for more unified and determined adversaries. Why would anyone fight to defend those who scorn their core beliefs?
Donald Trump’s campaign resonated deeply with these primordial values, while Kamala Harris’s approach often ignored or contradicted them. Trump’s embrace of these values was most evident in his unapologetic patriotism. His campaign slogan, “Make America Great Again,” was omnipresent, accompanied by U.S. flags at every rally. His message of “America First” emphasized unity and national pride.
Dressed in a blue suit, white shirt, and his signature red MAGA cap, Trump embodied his campaign’s core ideals. The cap became a powerful symbol of his movement. For Trump, inclusion meant uniting everyone as Americans, rather than dividing people into countless “communities” based on identity. His rallies opened with Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the U.S.A.,” a song so patriotic it borders on jingoistic. Such displays of national pride haven’t been seen since the fervor of World War II.
Thousands of Trump supporters spontaneously erupted in chants of “USA! USA!” during his appearances. Whether entering football stadiums or boxing matches—often accompanied by his children—Trump generated a level of excitement that could never be artificially manufactured. This passionate, grassroots enthusiasm undoubtedly unnerved his opponents, who dismissed him as “a fascist.” It’s hard to imagine similar over-the-top pro-America energy at a Kamala Harris rally.
One of Trump’s key messages was his hardline stance on illegal immigration. For Trump and his supporters, breaches of the nation’s borders were not merely policy failures but violations of national sovereignty. Outsiders were “taking our land” and “occupying our cities” while the Biden-Harris administration appeared powerless to act. Trump labeled many of these individuals as violent criminals, lunatics, or even potential terrorists, sharpening the “us versus them” distinction. His pledge to begin mass deportations on day one of his administration, enforced by tough U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents, reinforced his commitment. He often highlighted tragic stories, such as the murders and assaults of young women like Laken Riley, to drive home the emotional and visceral stakes. His rallies became cathartic events, allowing supporters to collectively vent their frustrations.
Trump also struck a chord by addressing the controversy surrounding men participating in women’s sports. He avoided complex debates over chromosomes or legal nuances, focusing instead on the physical harm inflicted on young girls. This resonated deeply with parents of daughters who play sports. He also took aim at issues like men entering women’s locker rooms and bathrooms, framing them as violations of instinctual protective instincts. Trump cast himself as a defender, vowing to protect women “whether they like it or not.” This appeal to the primal role of men as protectors, rooted in human evolution, struck a chord with his audience.
The contrast between Trump and Harris’s campaigns was stark. Trump emphasized protecting women and children from violence, while Harris prioritized “reproductive freedom.” Trump bolstered his protective image by associating with figures like the larger-than-life Hulk Hogan, while Harris leaned on woke female celebrities like Oprah Winfrey. Hollywood stars, however, lack the protective persona that Trump embodied. Even Harris’s running mate, Tim Walz, came across as weak and uninspiring.
The transgender debate further highlighted this divide. Trump took a clear stand against gender-affirming surgeries for minors, condemning procedures like hormonal therapy and surgical transformations. In contrast, Harris offered a tepid response, saying she would simply “follow the law.” Trump’s ads targeting Harris’s past support for these controversial procedures reportedly cost her significant voter support, as many Americans found the idea of hormonal castration and surgeries for children deeply unsettling.
The fundamental difference between Trump and Harris’s campaigns was clear: Trump championed the physical safety of women and children, while Harris focused on preserving access to abortion. Parents instinctively sacrifice everything to protect their children, a fact Trump recognized and emphasized. At his rally in Butler, Pennsylvania, he honored Corey Comperatore, underscoring the sacrifices parents make to ensure their children’s safety. Harris, by contrast, appeared disconnected from these instincts, possibly due to her age and lack of children.
Trump’s campaign operated on two levels. The first addressed practical policies, like eliminating taxes on tips. The second, more profound, tapped into deeply ingrained human instincts: fostering national unity, protecting the vulnerable, and defending against external threats. This appeal to the primal aspects of the human brain—shaped over millennia—was something Harris’s campaign failed to grasp.
Consider the extraordinary dedication of Trump’s supporters: thousands traveled long distances and endured hours in sweltering heat just to attend his rallies. They weren’t there for tax policy discussions. By contrast, Harris relied on recycled talking points about “building an opportunity economy” and abortion rights, which failed to inspire the same emotional connection.
Trump positioned himself as a leader willing to take a bullet to protect women and children from violence while standing firm against illegal immigration. Faced with Trump’s emotionally charged messaging, Harris leaned on celebrity endorsements and empty rhetoric.
While Kamala Harris may have had Taylor Swift in her corner, Trump had Mother Nature—and Mother Nature always wins.
