Inflation is a strange phenomenon: no one knows how, when, or where it will appear; yet, everybody ends up paying for it, suffering from it.
In the United States today, it shows up in a bottle of Rioja that a New York importer can no longer sell, in a family meal that costs more than the month before, in the Mexican or Arab entrepreneur living in San Diego who postpones an investment because he does not know how much raw materials will cost in three months. In short, based on the latest official data, American lives have become significantly more expensive, the standard of living has fallen, and the quality—though very difficult to measure, and understandable from European standards—now comes into question. That, without a doubt, is one of the factors most evident on the eve of the midterm elections.
Nearly two years have passed since Donald Trump returned to the White House. Back then, he promised prosperity, growth, and certainty. Yet, the economy has the bad habit of not obeying politicians’ speeches. Especially because the American middle class does not value Harvardian explanations of why international factors redefine market prices. What they do know is that their leader has contributed to generating international trade uncertainty, where producers, importers, distributors, and consumers end up paying the bill in some way. And the unforeseen military and tariff jolts from the president always echo in the pocket, in the gas tank. In broad terms, today, a New Yorker, a San Diegan, a resident of San Francisco, or someone in Miami needs much more money to buy the same goods or pay the same bills as two years ago. That, from economic theory, has many explanations, but on the street, where theory does not always fit well, it’s called inflation, translated as poverty.
Energy —in a country where fossil fuels dominate usage— continues to be one of the most visible faces of this deterioration. In just one month, according to official data, in September, gasoline rose by 9.1% from August. Year over year, fuel has accumulated a 34.2% increase, while the energy index grew by 20.4%. Those figures, apparently, have little impact in Washington, but outside government offices, they alter the lives of millions who are forced to redefine their consumption preferences, because many rely on a car to get to work or take their children to school, or simply because the numbers no longer add up to keep a business open. As I have argued in this space on previous occasions, voters are capable of forgiving almost any rhetorical excess, but they never forgive the sense of living worse than before. And it is precisely that feeling that will largely determine the results among the electorate on November 3.
“Voters are capable of forgiving almost any rhetorical excess, what they never forgive is the feeling of living worse than before”
The eminent Argentine journalist Tomás Eloy Martínez argued that numbers impact, but do not move. And, in some sense, he was right. Yet, there are numbers that speak for themselves, describing realities hard to ignore.
In very clear terms, today, unlike the pre-Trump 2.0 era, refueling a tank costs a lot more. The data? In 2024, the year-over-year inflation rate for gasoline was -3.2%: today it stands at 34.2%. It is hard for any wallet to withstand that; a ballot at the polls, even more so. Regarding the share of the domestic budget devoted to energy spending, the situation is equally striking: two years ago inflation was 0.5%, and today it is 20.4%. Electricity rose from 2.8% to 4.4% in the same period —making this one of the highest bills across the country. Natural gas remained essentially the same but remains high: around 5%.
Measuring the rise in restaurant prices is more tricky, but no less real. In a city like New York, one could easily see the per-person bill at a Manhattan restaurant reach (or exceed) 250 euros, while in border towns with Mexico or some inland areas prices are considerably more affordable. Nevertheless, there are several indicators that prices continue to climb steadily due to higher input costs, imported products (such as Spanish wine and olive oil — now that Trump has again threatened Spain in trade terms) or changes in the distribution of agricultural products from Mexico, such as avocados. According to the reports of the Bureau of Labor Statistics, the year-over-year inflation rate, measured in September of this year, is 3.5%. In other words, dining out at cafes or restaurants is markedly more expensive than in the years before the pandemic.
The city of New York (with its five boroughs: Manhattan, Staten Island, Brooklyn, Queens, and the Bronx) remains the most expensive city in the country. Miami has become so costly that it is not far from those levels. Boston comes very close. And, although Los Angeles or Austin do not reach those levels, price levels there have also surged.
“The year-over-year inflation, measured in September this year, is 3.5%. That is, dining out at cafes or restaurants is markedly more expensive than in the years before the pandemic”
Now, how does all that translate into the invitation to vote on November 3? Perhaps inflation is — alongside the war in Iran — the main political issue for Republicans heading into the midterms. Inflation rarely leads to mass demonstrations or apocalyptic headlines; it acts differently: it erodes. Yes, it erodes the wallet, and then political preference and the institutional bond between the party and society. It makes those who considered themselves comfortably middle class (or upper middle/established middle class) wonder whether they will be able to afford the same vacations or eat every Sunday at the traditional family place, whether they will be able to swap cars every four years, or, worse still, whether the shopping basket will still be within reach.
Today, in macroeconomic terms, the United States remains the world’s largest economic power; what is under discussion is whether its citizens still identify with those figures, but above all, whether they still believe in the (always highly magnified) rhetoric of their president.
This phenomenon rarely decides an election by itself, but it does tend to shape the emotional climate in which people vote.
With just a few weeks to the midterms, polls and electoral forecasts describe an increasingly harsh climate for Republicans. Trump’s popularity has collapsed (remember it sits around 30%, a historic low). And, according to the Pew Research Center, 84% of registered voters consider the economy a “very important” issue in deciding how to vote. In this way, the rise in prices proves to be the prime nationwide concern.
“Inflation rarely yields mass protests or apocalyptic headlines; it operates in another way: it erodes”
Surveys point to inflation becoming a form of punitive voting. A Harris Poll for The Guardian found that 65% of independent voters believe the economy is worse. Moreover, two-thirds of respondents said gasoline and food prices will be decisive factors when casting their ballots. From the Republican angle, that is a very serious issue, since independent voters tend to be the swing voters in tight elections (especially in battleground states).
A more pointed poll from The Economist/YouGov indicates how highly inflation is weighted in relation to electoral preferences. That study showed that 92% of Americans said gasoline prices had risen over the past year, and 90% said that food had become more expensive. In politics, perceptions are as important—if not more so—than the data: when nine out of ten citizens feel that everything costs more, i.e., that they are not better off than before, the electoral risk for the ruling party rises without a doubt.
“When nine out of ten citizens feel that everything costs more, i.e., that they are not better off than before, the electoral risk for the party in power rises without a doubt”
Thus, the sustained rise in prices, translated into a decline in the standard and quality of life for Americans, also has a date on November 3. And it will only after those elections that we will know whether American voters are capable of curbing a political model in which rhetoric runs high when people can no longer pay their bills.
