The moment Bruce Springsteen entered politics and how Republicans keep getting him wrong
“America’s future rests in a thousand dreams inside your hearts,” one might be mistaken for thinking these remarks from Ronald Reagan were the lyrics penned by one of New Jersey’s most beloved sons, Bruce Springsteen. The latter, affectionately known as ‘The Boss’, has made it his duty to reflect the world of the working-class American through his work. No matter what stage of his fame he had reached or what viewpoint the lifted platform of legacy had provided him, Springsteen has, by and large, sung from the same hymn sheet. However, it took him over a decade to enter politics.
In 1984, Ronald Reagan was running his campaign for a second term in office. The actor-turned-politician was seemingly happy with his base and, to achieve another four years in the Oval Office, was keen to grab the more moderate voters, harnessing the power of optimism and idealism. It was clear that if a Democrat were able to put themselves forward as the only candidate to provide it, the Republicans would lose the election, and so, Reagan set about trying to capture the hope of a nation. As his presidential advisor, George Will attended a Springsteen show in August of that year, the centre of Reagan’s campaign got themselves a new idol.
“If all Americans, in labour and management, who make steel or cars or shoes or textiles,” Will wrote in a column as reported by Politico, “made their products with as much energy and confidence as Springsteen and his merry band make music, there would be no need for Congress to be thinking about protectionism.” Springsteen, with red, white and blue dripping imagery now instilled into every single show, became an opportunity the Republican party could not turn down; he even expressed appreciation for the “grand cheerful anthem” ‘Born in the USA’.
Springsteen was on his Born in the USA tour and was seeing the vast success of the namesake record fill out huge venues and stake his claim as one of the most important musicians his nation had witnessed in decades. Clad in denim, built out of the factories and blue-collar spit with a song that seemed to be the perfect anthem for national pride, Springsteen was an icon that not only represented a single part of his country but could appeal to both the left and right — he should have been the perfect candidate.
‘Born in the USA’ is one song that has spent its life chronically misunderstood. It might sound like a rallying triumph, even bullish, with a chorus that feels closer to the kind of chant you hear at a sports event. But it isn’t about national pride at all; it is a reflection of the national shame Springsteen felt when looking back at the Vietnam War. But this nuance seemed to be lost on Republicans across the land.
As Reagan explained in his speech in Hammonton on the campaign trail: “America’s future rests in a thousand dreams inside your hearts. It rests in the message of hope in the songs of a man so many young Americans admire—New Jersey’s own, Bruce Springsteen.” However, this apparent endorsement would become a turning point, not just for Springsteen’s public image but for how American politicians, especially on the right, would repeatedly misunderstand the man, the music, and the message.
Despite trying to shrug off the president’s appreciation, Springsteen did eventually address the suited elephant in the room: “Well, the president was mentioning my name in his speech the other day, and I kind of got to wondering what his favourite album of mine must’ve been, you know? I don’t think it was the Nebraska album. I don’t think he’s been listening to this one,” he finished before launching into the politically fraught ‘Johnny 99’.
The track is as poignant as the album it comes from, dedicating itself to accurately showcasing the collapse of the working class. ‘Johnny 99’ opens with the lyrics “Well, they closed down the auto plant in Mahwah late that month / Ralph went out lookin’ for a job but he couldn’t find none”. With this one performance, Springsteen had tentatively entered the political space and begun to make his feelings clear. Later that night, he would also perform ‘My Hometown’ and laid thick a feeling of disenfranchisement with the current regime, saying before the track: “It seems like something’s happening out there where there’s a lot of stuff being taken away from a lot of people that shouldn’t have it taken away from. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that this place belongs to us, that this is our hometown.”
This might have been the first step for Springsteen, but he would jump two-footed into the political debate in the late 1990s and early 2000s, as he openly began supporting Democrats in the face of the Bush administration, rallying heavily against the ‘War on Terror’ which concluded with the invasion of Iraq. His Vote for Change tour in 2004 is perhaps the most obvious example of his position, supporting John Kerry, and his post-9/11 record, The Rising, was another clear demonstration of Springsteen’s affiliation with the left. He would use his songs like ‘We Take Care of Our Own’, ‘Death to My Hometown’ and ‘American Skin’ to further cement that message.
This feeling only continued as Springsteen found himself becoming more and more engaged with the democrats running for office, with his famous friendship with Barack Obama the most obvious example. So, why on Earth are Republicans, including Donald Trump, still trying to appropriate him?
In a post-truth world, one popularised by Donald Trump’s “fake news” motifs, Springsteen’s politics can be swept away behind a denim-wearing singer whose tracks feature references to national pride. As with Reagan decades earlier, Trump-era rallies have routinely used ‘Born in the USA’ blaring through speakers, its chorus stripped from its context, its verses ignored as an opportunity to crank up the temperature inside the venues. Once again, Springsteen found himself being invoked by a political movement whose values he fundamentally opposed.
This time, however, Springsteen would not be so covert in his response. As Trump entered his own second term, he began to move with scary authority. Firstly, removing 17 inspector generals from a host of different federal agencies, a barrage of culture war-facing executive orders followed as Trump seemingly attempted to quell free speech and reduce his opposition’s platforms, with both NPR and PBS defunded on May 1st, 2025. Trump hadn’t bargained on one man using his giant platform.
It pushed Springsteen over the edge, and as he once again took the stage to play for an engaged audience, he felt it only necessary to set out his stall and attack Trump with more vigour than he ever had before. He told his Manchester audience: “The America I’ve written about… is currently in the hands of a corrupt, incompetent, and treasonous administration. Tonight… raise your voices against authoritarianism and let freedom ring!” It didn’t matter about Trump’s expected rebuttals, claiming the singer was washed up and unimportant; Springsteen had made his point loud and clear to millions of people.
A song is a beautiful thing, partly because of how differently it can be understood, but there is a line between misinterpretation and wilful misuse. Those opening lines from Ronald Reagan, so decadently dripping with dangerous nationalism, could have neatly fit into any folk song ever written by Woody Guthrie and completely changed their outlook. Reagan’s mistake may have been naive, but Trump’s insistence on deliberately hijacking the image of the working man without a real understanding of their plight is deplorable.
Springsteen has always been far more than an image. He is a poet, a chronicler and even a fighter when needed. He doesn’t need big campaigns or the National Guard at his side to make his point; he just needs a microphone and his guitar and to sing his songs of defiance. And it all started one night in Pittsburgh.
