The economy is on edge. Prices are climbing higher and higher. Stock markets are swinging wildly. Immigration agents are detaining students on their way to class. Layoffs are sweeping across federal agencies.
America, right now, may be a lot of things, but calm and stable are not among them. Yet, for all the disorder, one might expect at least a flicker of doubt from the millions of people who voted to return Donald Trump to the White House. But among much of his support base, regret seems to be in very short supply.
If anything, recent data suggests that Trump voters are not only standing by their decision but are doing so with conviction. This is not to say there are no disillusioned Republicans out there.
They exist, and if you dig deep enough, you can find them in profiles, interviews, and small-town diner conversations that journalists still love to publish. These accounts of voters wrestling with second thoughts about Trump have become something of a political reporting genre over the past several years.
But the big picture, backed by polling and voter behavior, paints a different story. Most Trump voters appear as determined as ever to stick with the man they believe is hurting the right people.
A recent poll out of the University of Massachusetts Amherst found that only a tiny fraction of Trump voters — just two percent — said they regretted voting for him in 2024.
That number is smaller than the percentage of Trump voters who expressed regret after his first election win in 2016. And when asked if they felt confident they had made the right decision, nearly three-quarters said yes.
Polls, of course, have their limits. They cannot always capture nuance, nor can they fully account for the complexities of human emotion. When people are asked whether they regret a recent decision, particularly one as personal and pride-laden as a vote for president, the question can feel like an accusation.
Answering yes may seem like admitting to being fooled. And in today’s hyperpartisan environment, no one wants to be painted as naïve or weak-minded.
But even with those caveats, the numbers remain telling. Despite everything — the economic instability, the broken promises, the social divisions — most of Trump's base seems largely unfazed.
This may seem perplexing to some observers, especially those who expected a rising tide of remorse as Trump’s second term progressed. After all, public discontent is growing. Approval ratings are falling. Inflation is hurting families across the board. But still, the majority of Trump voters express little to no regret.
So why is that?
Part of the explanation lies in the current political landscape, which has become less about policy and more about cultural allegiance. In a nation split by ideology, identity, and resentment, it is no longer enough for many voters to weigh outcomes and policies in isolation.
What seems to matter more is whether their side appears to be winning — or, more accurately, whether the people they believe are responsible for their struggles are finally losing.
For many Trump supporters, this presidency is not judged solely by traditional metrics of success. It is judged by the pain inflicted on their perceived enemies. In this view, Trump is not just a leader.
He is an instrument of vengeance, wielded against elites, intellectuals, immigrants, bureaucrats, and anyone else framed as standing in the way of a true American revival. The more the other side suffers, the more their support for Trump is validated.
One woman encapsulated this mindset during Trump’s first term in a quote that has lingered in the political conversation for years. Living in a Florida town devastated by a hurricane and a government shutdown, she expressed frustration that her life had become harder, but also disappointment that others were not suffering more. "I voted for him, and he’s the one who’s doing this," she said. "I thought he was going to do good things. He’s not hurting the people he needs to be hurting."
That idea — that the point of Trumpism is not necessarily to improve life for his supporters, but to bring pain to those they resent — remains a guiding sentiment for many. Trump has understood and played to this impulse from the beginning.
His policies, his public statements, his social media activity — all of it is shaped by the desire not just to govern but to dominate.
He has cut funding to elite universities that he claims are out of touch with American values. He has launched new crackdowns on immigrants and protesters. He has supported harsh policies targeting trans people.
And he has made a public performance out of doing all of this with theatrical flair, often laced with mockery.
Earlier this year, for example, the White House posted a Valentine’s Day message with Trump and his immigration czar grinning beneath the words, "Roses are red, violets are blue, come here illegally, and we’ll deport you."
More recently, the administration shared a video of a man being deported set to the lyrics of a popular song, "You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here." These are not isolated incidents. They are carefully crafted messages designed to show Trump supporters that he is willing to cross lines, break rules, and weaponize cruelty if it means delivering on the promise to "own the libs."
Meanwhile, the reality for many Americans, including some of Trump’s supporters, is increasingly grim. Economic anxiety is mounting. Wall Street is volatile. Food and fuel costs are up. Basic services are being strained.
Some wealthy Trump supporters, including notable investors, have voiced frustration over what they see as economic recklessness and poorly executed trade policies. But for many others in his coalition, the stock market does not define their sense of well-being.
The top ten percent of Americans own the vast majority of stocks. Those living paycheck to paycheck are less focused on the Dow and more concerned with asserting cultural dominance and getting revenge on a system they believe abandoned them.
This is what happens in a country where inequality runs deep and trust in institutions is broken. People no longer vote for hope. They vote to punish. They do not need their lives to improve dramatically if they believe their enemies are suffering more. In this environment, even worsening conditions can feel like a form of victory, as long as the pain is shared unequally.
Of course, this strategy cannot be sustained forever. While the thrill of watching political opponents squirm may offer short-term satisfaction, it does not put food on the table. And eventually, the reality of rising costs and diminishing returns will become harder to ignore.
Trump promised lower prices on basic goods. That has not materialized. Groceries are not cheaper. Rent is not falling. The cost of living is rising faster than most wages. And no meme can cover that up for long.
At some point, even the most dedicated partisans begin to feel the weight of unmet expectations. When the spectacle fades and daily life becomes harder, the gap between rhetoric and reality grows too wide to ignore. There is only so much fuel in the fire of grievance. And when the embers begin to dim, questions start to surface.
Will regret come then? Perhaps. But not right away.
Right now, Trump is still delivering on what many of his supporters wanted most — disruption. The old order is under siege. The institutions they distrusted are being targeted. The people they never liked are being humiliated.
And that, for now, is enough. The pain is widespread, but it is being rationalized. The suffering is not a betrayal. It is part of the plan.
Only time will tell how long that logic can hold. Trump’s tariff strategy is still in its early stages. As its full economic impact plays out, as inflation continues to stretch household budgets, and as the promises of a better life remain unfulfilled, even those most loyal may begin to wonder whether they were sold something that cannot be delivered.
And when that happens, when the price of milk doubles and the dopamine rush of political revenge fades, then the regrets might come.
But for now, they are few. Not because everything is fine. But because, for many Trump voters, what matters most is not how they are doing — it is who else is losing.
