The 2026 post-election period—mercifully—is upon us. We can now shake hands, offer each other congratulations, and get back to living together in harmony.
Yeah, right.
More accurately, we’ve just entered the biennial weeklong stretch psychologists label “the aftermath of elections,” when “voting results mount” until gradually sinking in.
Electoral reckoning, so to speak, when mental health counselors are actually on standby to assist the despondent with coping, healing, and moving forward.
During these next seven days existing anxiety can morph into hopelessness, frustration, even anger, adding to the polarization and deepening divisions among families, friends and co-workers.
It’s the week when jobholders, in particular those providing for families, fret over the economic consequences of elections, this go-round the forewarned federal policy changes surrounding healthcare and medical insurance.
Needless to say, the current “worry list” is a long if not dangerous one, what with the well-documented spike in cardiac events and hospitalizations in the week-long period following an election.
Sadly—and increasingly—it’s the political candidates themselves who are the chief fomenters of the misery, continuously stirring the pot in their unbridled quests for power.
In a previous column of mine on the upsurge of negative politicking, then-Sen. Byron L. Dorgan of North Dakota described the tendency among today’s politicians “to try to tear things down, to tear people up.”
He recalled being handed a memorandum encouraging senators to recite certain adjectives and nouns while campaigning: “When you are running against somebody use the word ‘traitor’ to define your opponent. Call your opponent ‘pathetic.’ Use the word ‘lie.’ Use the word ‘sick.’ Again, use the word ‘traitor.’”
The late Sen. Conrad Burns of Montana, who I first knew as an agricultural broadcaster, equated rampant mudslinging to unruly children “staking out our corner of the playground.”
Montana’s most revered political figure, Mike Mansfield—famous at 14 for falsifying his age to fight in World War I, before going on to become the longest-serving majority leader in the U.S. Senate—would surely be appalled at the coarseness of politics today.
Never a fan of “sniping” among candidates, he observed on the eve of his inaugural election to Congress, “We cannot afford the luxury of fighting among ourselves. There must be no hatred and no continuous biting attack on one group or another.”
He’d be outspoken about the millions upon millions of dollars being spent on Montana’s congressional races by outside special interest groups, which cram our airwaves with acerbic and misleading campaign ads.
“Tonight, I’m making my only radio talk in this campaign,” Mansfield told Montana voters. “I would have liked to have made more, but the cost was more than I could afford.”
And then, rather than screaming malicious accusations and insults to destroy his rivals’ reputations, the candidate offered the first of numerous olive branches extended during his public service career: “At this time, I want to thank all of my opponents for their fine sportsmanship. It has been a pleasure to know them and it has been a pleasure to campaign with them.”
No, you’re not seeing things.
His final message on the eve of that election, which I’ve personally adhered to with every political candidate I’ve supported?
“Don’t vote for Mike Mansfield just because he is a Democrat. Don’t vote against him just because you are a Republican,” he said.
“Remember, we are all Americans, and if you vote for me I hope it is because you think, in fact, you know that Mike Mansfield is just an American. There is no greater privilege and no more priceless heritage than that.”
John McCaslin is a longtime journalist and author who lives in Bigfork.