For centuries, political leaders in the U.S. have used race as a cudgel to shore up support from white Americans, particularly those for whom racial hierarchy afforded a sense of status they otherwise lacked. White Southerners supported slavery—going as far as fighting and dying over it in the Civil War—even though most of them could not afford to own a slave. They did so because it gave them a higher social status. In the 1960s Richard Nixon used the infamous Southern strategy, which created the current electoral map, to stir up fear of Black empowerment and persuade white Southerners to vote for him.

These are Trump's strategic predecessors. Immersed in data, his campaign built an engagement strategy around speaking to his largely unwavering base and motivating new, largely white voters sold on Trump's personality and showmanship and his message of grievance. Not relying similarly on data, Trump still effectively channels his campaign's messaging with constantly calibrated applause lines to test what energizes his audience. Trump's fanning the flames of racial resentment tells us a lot about who he is; his crowd's roaring response tells us more about where we are as a nation.

Biden is deeply aware of this fissure. He ran on healing it, and exit polls show he won over voters concerned about racial justice. Betting that most Americans believe in equality and justice, among other democratic values, Biden referred to his campaign as a "battle for the soul of the nation." With more than 70 million votes received and counting, Biden may be favored to win the election, but to uproot the forces that perpetuate the deeply entrenched racism in this country, it'll take more than maybe half the country.

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