
On the night of November 5, somewhere between 40 and 50 percent of you will begin a period in which your preferred president is out of a job. If you’re in that club, congratulations: It eventually includes everyone.
The etiquette of living in dissent thereafter, especially if it goes on for a long time, is another matter. In theory, we are supposed to learn how to be good losers as kids. Athletic leagues give out sportsmanship awards, and institutions like the Scouts try to coach their members toward grace in defeat. Both aim to teach us how to live on the outs, perhaps drawing upon the British public school attitude of let’s-all-pull-together-for-the-empire. (The out-of-power party in the UK is even known as “His Majesty’s Most Loyal Opposition.”) In the American ideal, we metaphorically line up and shake hands after the softball game, and then square off again on another day. In practice, what some people do is accuse the other team of cheating and try to get the umpire fired.
If there’s one place where dissent is particularly baked in, it’s the Supreme Court of the United States. As part of every opinion that’s not unanimous, one of the justices who disagrees with the decision writes a counterargument, and it traditionally ends, “I respectfully dissent.” The nine judges argue it out behind closed doors, they write their arguments and counterarguments, the whole business gets published, and (as in the softball game above) it’s on to the next case. Although in recent years the wall of silent civility that they once presented has begun to rattle a bit, we do not have justices on the dissenting side saying they simply refuse to accept a decision.
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