Category Archives: Articles

The Remarkable Biden Economy

Under Biden, the US has faced the post-Covid challenges better than just about any other country in the world.


The polls. Most readers of this blog, I imagine, are worried about the polls. A string of polls have shown Trump with a lead over President Biden, and the current RCP poll average has Trump up by 2.3%.

Now, 2.3% isn’t much, and polls a year ahead of the election are not that meaningful, particularly when the media focus is on the opposing party’s primary campaign. A number of Republican candidates are touring the country and putting their commercials on television, and those ads start from the premise that the Democratic president is doing a terrible job and deserves to lose. President Obama had a small lead (less than 1%) over Mitt Romney at this point 12 years ago, and the RCP had Romney ahead at several points in October of 2012. Obama wound up winning by 3.9%.

The betting markets — whose predictive record is probably even worse than the early polls — are mixed. One has Trump-to-win at 40 cents on the dollar and Biden-to-win at 37 cents. But Democrat-to-win-the-presidency is at 55 cents.

I have explained in a past post why I think Biden will still win. But what the polls do tell us is that three important parts of the Biden message have not gotten through yet to most voters:

  • A second Trump term will mean the end of American constitutional democracy. In his response to losing the 2020 election, Trump showed us just how little he respects the will of the voters and how much he is willing to do to hang onto power. His recent rhetoric and his announced plans for a second term are openly authoritarian, and can be fairly described as fascist.
  • Biden has been an excellent president, particularly in his stewardship of the economy. The issue on which the polls give Trump his biggest advantage over Biden is the economy. But this is a complete misperception. The Covid pandemic disrupted the economy of every nation on the globe, and recovery has been difficult everywhere. But under Biden, the US economy is doing as well or better than just about any country in the world: GDP is rising, jobs are plentiful, and wages-after-inflation are rising. Post-pandemic inflation was a worldwide phenomenon, but the US has handled it better than most.
  • Biden will continue fighting climate change. Trump will reverse the progress Biden has made. Getting from a fossil-fuel-based economy to a sustainable-energy economy will require a lot of government investment, because the advantages of a more temperate planet are hard for private-sector corporations to capture. Biden began making those investments in the American Rescue Plan, and more emphatically in the Inflation Reduction Act. The Republican Party is still in the pocket of the oil companies, though, so any Republican victory will not just stop that progress, but actively undo it.

I covered the first point last week. In this post I want to look at the second. I hope to get to the third before long.

The state of the country on Inauguration Day. One similarity between the Biden and Obama administrations is that both presidents were handed an economy in terrible shape, a fact that the opposing party was very good at getting the public to forget. The month Obama took office, the economy lost nearly 600,000 jobs, the unemployment rate was 7.6%, and many worried that we were headed into a second Great Depression. The bad trends continued for several months, but by January, 2017, Obama was able to hand off to Trump an economy in very good shape: 4.8% unemployment, consistent job growth that would lower it further, and low inflation.

Four years later, the economy Trump handed off to Biden was doing very badly indeed: unemployment at 6.3%, GDP at virtually the same level it had been at the start of the pandemic, and a federal budget deficit of around $150 billion per month.

Trump tends to get a mulligan for that poor overall performance, because we usually think of the pandemic like a hurricane or other natural disaster: It’s an unfortunate thing that (mostly) wasn’t his fault, and that screwed up his plans as much as it did ours.

For some reason, though, Biden doesn’t get the same mulligan: Not only didn’t Covid magically end on Inauguration Day, but the disruptive policies that world leaders (including Trump) implemented to fight Covid have had longer-term effects. So Biden has had to sail through choppy economic waters since Day One, and has done so remarkably well.

The inevitability of post-pandemic inflation. Compounding the economic problems of the Covid shutdown was an overhang of savings: Like most other countries, the US (under Trump, remember) had shut down much of its economy intentionally, in order to save lives. To a large extent, this had meant paying people not to work: The government subsidized shut-down businesses that kept people on their payrolls, and even sent money to people directly.

For many people, these payments were life-savers. Otherwise, they would have been homeless during a deadly pandemic. (Recall, even with these mitigation efforts, Covid deaths peaked in January, 2021, with over 100K deaths in the US that month.) Those personal bankruptcies could easily have cascaded into business bankruptcies, Great-Depression style.

For others, though, the government checks went straight into the bank, because most of what they had been spending money on was shut down. No one was driving, for example, both because travel seemed unsafe and because there was nowhere to go. (The collapse of demand sent average gas prices down to $1.82 per gallon. This number is sometimes used today as a things-were-better-under-Trump argument, but in fact it is a measure of just how bad things got. If we have another pandemic that kills thousands of people every day, gas prices will sink again.) No one bought new cars, because their current car was rusting in the garage. Cruise ships and airliners looked like death traps.

At a macro level, the effect of this policy was to preserve purchasing power even as production dropped. Basic supply-and-demand thinking makes the outcome obvious: As soon as people started buying again, inflation was going to cut loose.

That’s what happened around the world.

Biden’s dilemma. By January, 2021, the US economy had begun to reopen, but it was still 9.9 million jobs short of where it had been when the nation first felt the effects of the pandemic in February, 2020. So the twin threats of inflation and recession were both looming. Too much government stimulus would exacerbate inflation, but too little might repeat the mistake both the US and Europe made in response to the Great Recession of 2008, when a focus on austerity slowed growth so much that it took years for the economy to fully recover.

Biden opted for a full recovery and got it.

Economic performance. Under Biden, the unemployment rate fell from 6.3% to under 4% by February, 2022, and has stayed below 4% ever since. During the period Trump describes as “the greatest economy ever”, unemployment got as low as 3.5%. But it was 3.4% in both January and March of this year.

The price of that impressive jobs performance has been inflation, which peaked in the summer and has declined considerably since: 3.2% year-over-year rather than 9% in the summer.

But US inflation is not purely Biden’s responsibility. Our inflation performance parallels (and in fact is somewhat better than) inflation rates around the world, which (according to Statista) peaked at 8.7% in 2022 and fell to 6.9% this year.

That inflation is unfortunate, but American wages have largely kept up. Average real hourly earnings (i.e., adjusted for inflation) were at $11.03 (in constant dollars from 1982) in February, 2020, rose considerably early in the pandemic (to $11.72 in April, 2020, probably because workers able to keep working from home made more money to begin with), fell to a low of $10.92 in June, and have risen back to $11.05 by October.

So average real wages are back at pre-pandemic, best-economy-ever levels, and are rising.

What’s more, Biden actually got some important things done with that money the government needed to spend to stimulate the economy back to full employment: He financed a vaccine program that has saved countless American lives, began making good on Trump’s failed promises to rebuild our infrastructure, and started the US transition to a sustainable-energy economy.

What’s the Trump anti-inflation plan? It is an article of faith on the right that inflation would not have happened under Trump — the post-pandemic overhang of savings would have dissipated with no effect, and jobs would have bounced back without additional stimulus. Going forward, we’d be back to the full-employment low-inflation days of February, 2020.

What policies would bring this about? That’s where things get murky. Republicans in Congress talk about cutting spending, but that didn’t work so well, either here or in Europe, in the aftermath of the Great Recession. What’s more, Trump has never cut spending. Federal spending increased every year under Trump (even before the pandemic). And who’s going to pay for the ten futuristic cities he has promised to build?

Other policies Trump is famous for — tariffs, for example, which he promises to increase sharply, or expelling immigrants who work for low wages — would make inflation worse, not better.

In short, if you’re counting on Trump to beat inflation, you’re betting on the magic of the Trump name, because he hasn’t offered us anything else.

Why doesn’t Biden get credit for his good economic record? Trump has one talent that Biden lacks: He is very good at claiming credit when things go right and at blaming others when things go wrong. So, for example, his administration’s pre-Covid economic record mainly consisted of keeping going the trends that Obama had established. (Look at that job-creation graph above. The slope in Trump pre-pandemic performance is exactly the same as the trend in Obama’s second term.) But in retrospect it’s the Trump economy, not the Obama economy.

Ditto for the Covid mulligans: Trump gets one, but Biden doesn’t. Matt Yglesias summarizes:

It’s like how we don’t hold the disastrous state of the economy in 2020 against Trump because the pandemic interceded, but somehow Joe Biden is personally culpable for the fact that restoring full employment and real output couldn’t be achieved at zero cost.

But a discussion between NYT business writers Binyamin Applebaum and Peter Coy pinpoints a second reason: People aren’t reacting to the current state of the economy at all, but to their long-term pessimism about the future.

In an NBC News poll released last weekend, only 19 percent of respondents said that they were confident the next generation would have better lives than their own generation. NBC said it was the smallest share of optimists dating back to the question’s introduction in 1990. …

I think what we’re experiencing is a crisis of faith in the narrative of capitalism — at least as practiced in the United States in 2023 — as an engine of shared prosperity. Americans are dying sooner. They can’t afford to own a home. The cost of college is crushing. Global warming looms. And the world seems a lot less safe and stable than it did a few years ago.

As for what we do about that …

In 2024, Biden and Trump will represent two options for dealing with that pessimism: With Biden, we can continue taking small steps in the right direction that may or may not be adequate to the scale of the problems. With Trump, we can distract ourselves chasing “enemies within”, punishing scapegoats, and imagining that our leader has some messianic power to make us all great again.

I hope America chooses wisely.

Revisiting the fascism question

People who used to deny that Trump is a fascist have been changing their minds.


From the beginning of his first presidential campaign, it was clear Donald Trump was not like other candidates. The difference was not in political philosophy, because he barely seemed to have one. On any given day, he might be for or against a national healthcare program. He might want to raise or cut taxes on the rich. If “conservative” had been defined by Ronald Reagan and carried into the present by Republicans like Paul Ryan, then Trump was not a conservative.

Meanwhile, he celebrated his supporters’ violent tendencies, called Mexican immigrants rapists, and promised to ban Muslims from entering the country. Maybe we needed a different word for this. Maybe the word was fascist.

For years, the word fascist had mainly just served as an insult in American politics. Yes, there were people on the right-wing fringe who waved swastikas and celebrated Hitler’s birthday, but they had no power and nobody took them seriously. If you heard some congressman or cabinet secretary described as a fascist, it was hyperbole. No significant player in American government was literally a fascist. [1]

But maybe it was time to dust that word off as a serious descriptor. If you were going to do that in a responsible way, though, you had to be clear about what you were using the word to mean. It couldn’t just be “somebody more conservative than me” or “somebody I don’t like”. It needed a real definition that could be applied objectively.

And that was actually kind of tricky, because historical fascism has not displayed a defining set of policy positions, like communism’s public ownership of the means of production. Once in power, fascists become chameleons, championing whatever ideas their leaders find useful. Fascism often resembles a charismatic religion more than a political philosophy; the important thing is the spirit, not adherence to some 10-point plan.

But by November of 2015, I was ready to start using the word again, so I wrote “The Political F-Word” to say what I would mean by it. I said fascism was more about social psychology than politics, and described it as:

“a dysfunctional attempt of people who feel humiliated and powerless to restore their pride by:

  • styling themselves as the only true and faithful heirs of their nation’s glorious (and possibly mythical) past, [2]
  • identifying with a charismatic leader whose success will become their success,
  • helping that leader achieve power by whatever means necessary, including violence,
  • under his leadership, purifying the nation by restoring its traditional and characteristic virtues (again, through violence if necessary),
  • reawakening and reclaiming the nation’s past glory (by war, if necessary),
  • all of which leads to the main point: humiliating the internal and external enemies they blame for their own humiliation.”

I could easily see Hitler’s and Mussolini’s fascism in that description, and believed that it fit Trumpism as well, with its vague allusions to making America great “again” (without specifying when exactly that greatness was present or how it was lost), its persistent claims of persecution and victimhood, its emphasis on “owning the libs”, its hatred of immigrants, the violence of its rhetoric (which is frequently echoed in the manifestos of mass murderers), its focus on “real Americans”, and (most of all) the cult of personality around Donald Trump himself. [3]

The subsequent eight years, I believe, have borne out what I saw in 2015. The January 6 insurrection, for example, was a direct manifestation of “helping that leader achieve power by whatever means necessary, including violence”, and so are the current threats of violence against the prosecutors and judges who attempt to make Trump submit to the rule of law.

Still, not everyone agreed, and calling Trump a fascist was controversial. To many, fascist meant Hitler, and (whatever you might think of him) Trump was not Hitler. This week, Tom Nichols summarized his thinking like this: He was against using fascist through the 2016 campaign because

Trump, as a person and as a public figure, is just so obviously ridiculous; fascists, by contrast, are dangerously serious people, and in many circumstances, their leaders have been unnervingly tough and courageous. Trump—whiny, childish, unmanly—hardly fits that bill.

At the time, I thought this view was unhistorical, because Hitler also had seemed ridiculous to many Germans, even after he had become chancellor. But Nichols continued:

After Trump was elected, I still warned against the indiscriminate use of fascism, because I suspected that the day might come when it would be an accurate term to describe him, and I wanted to preserve its power to shock and to alarm us. I acknowledged in August 2022 that Trump’s cult “stinks of fascism,” but I counseled “against rushing toward the F-word: Things are poised to get worse, and we need to know what to watch for.”

Well, Nichols is now shocked and alarmed. What changed his mind? The same things that have swayed a lot of pundits lately: the escalating rhetoric that now routinely dehumanizes his opponents as “vermin” and immigrants as “poisoning the blood of our country“, coupled with a series of ominous proposals for his second administration:

Add the language in these speeches to all of the programmatic changes Trump and his allies have threatened to enact once he’s back in office—establishing massive detention camps for undocumented people, using the Justice Department against anyone who dares to run against him, purging government institutions, singling out Christianity as the state’s preferred religion, and many other actions—and it’s hard to describe it all as generic “authoritarianism.” Trump no longer aims to be some garden-variety supremo; he is now promising to be a threat to every American he identifies as an enemy—and that’s a lot of Americans.

Nichols is not alone. [4] Though The Economist does not use the F-word, it says that Trump “poses the biggest danger to the world in 2024”. WaPo’s Dan Balz also avoids fascist, but says his rhetoric is “associated with authoritarian leaders of the past”, whoever they might be. His colleague Aaron Blake puts recent Trump quotes side-by-side with Hitler’s use of the same language. The New Yorker’s John Cassidy warns that the 2024 election is

a struggle to prevent the election of a President whose embrace of fascistic imagery and authoritarian governance goes well beyond what comes out of his mouth.

In short, it’s not just the crazy things Trump says or how he says them. It’s what he’s done and plans to do.

The 2020 election plot. It’s important to realize that we’ve gone well beyond the point of Trump-says-a-lot-of-crazy-things. Openly fascist ideas and proposals are percolating in TrumpWorld right now, and are still not being taken seriously by many American voters. But before we go into those, we need to lay out what Trump has already done: launched a plot to stay in power after losing the 2020 election.

People who think we can put January 6 behind us tell the story like this: After it became clear that Trump had lost the 2020 election, he latched on to every rumor of fraud because he didn’t want to admit defeat. His stolen-election rhetoric resonated with his most radical supporters, and the result was a January 6 rally that got out of hand. Eventually, though, Trump told the rioters to go home and left office peacefully. He still may be claiming he won in 2020, but so what?

Both the evidence gathered by the House January 6 Committee [5] and the Georgia and D.C. indictments against Trump, though, tell a different story:

  • As soon as it became clear that Trump was likely to lose the 2020 election, he began preparing to claim fraud and stay in office.
  • Within a few days of the November 3 election, his campaign officials and other top advisors told him that he had lost.
  • Within a few weeks, all his administration’s top investigators — Bill Barr in Justice, Chris Krebs at the Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency, and others — told him that his claims of election fraud had no basis in fact. No one in a position to know supported those claims.
  • Republican officials in key states — Georgia, Michigan, Arizona — told him that the votes had been counted accurately. Again, no one in a position to know said otherwise.
  • In order to find support for the view that he had won the election, Trump had to turn to amateur conspiracy theorists like Sidney Powell and Mike Lindell.
  • Barr’s successors at Justice refused to send state legislators a letter falsely claiming that evidence of significant election fraud had been found and recommending that they reconsider their states’ electoral votes.
  • Republican-controlled state legislatures all refused Trump’s urging to ignore the election results and appoint Trump electors instead of Biden electors.
  • Officials close to Trump coordinated attempts in multiple states for Trump supporters to falsely claim to be electors, and to fraudulently cast Electoral College votes for Trump.
  • His own vice president, Mike Pence, resisted his urging to count the votes of the fake electors, or to refuse to count electoral votes from states Biden had won.
  • The January 6 assault on the Capitol was planned in advance by groups like the Proud Boys, and their leaders have been convicted of seditious conspiracy. A direct connection from the White House to the Proud Boys has not been nailed down in evidence publicly available, but may have gone through Roger Stone.

The more details come out, the clearer it becomes that this plot could have worked if only Trump had more yes-men in key positions. If the Justice Department had backed rumors of election fraud, Republican legislatures would have had cover to submit alternate slates of electors, and Mike Pence might have been convinced to count those votes, creating a constitutional crisis that the Supreme Court (with three Trump appointees) might have been unwilling to resolve in Biden’s favor. A military leader unlike Mark Milley might have provided troops to put down any subsequent disorder, and Trump would be President for Life. [6]

From the preparations for his second administration, we can conclude that Trump has learned a lesson from his first failed attempt to overthrow the constitutional order, and will not make the same mistakes again. He’ll appoint a compliant attorney general, a compliant vice president, and military leaders willing to do what they’re told. Former Trump Chief of Staff John Kelly put it like this:

The lesson the former president learned from his first term is don’t put guys like me … in those jobs. The lesson he learned was to find sycophants.

Plans for Trump’s second term. According to many reports, Trump did not expect to win in 2016, so he paid little attention to the transition plan drafted by Chris Christie. Top jobs were filled in a haphazard way, often with conservatives who had little previous connection to Trump, like General John Kelly, or with people like Senator Jeff Sessions, who backed Trump but retained independent views of how government was supposed to function. The Trump legislative agenda was largely left to Speaker Paul Ryan, who engineered a Reagan-style tax cut for corporations and the rich, but failed to “repeal and replace” ObamaCare.

As a result, Trump was frequently told that he couldn’t do what he wanted to do; it was illegal or unethical or against the norms of the federal government. By the end of his term, he had gotten rid of most of those people, but there were still enough establishment conservatives around to thwart his attempt to steal a second term.

He doesn’t want that to happen again, so plans are already in place to hit the ground running with sweeping proposals and a list of Trump loyalists ready to implement them.

Weaponize the Justice Department against his enemies. Trump claims that the indictments against him are purely political. [7] But rather than promise to restore the Justice Department to its proper function, Trump promises to do to his enemies what he (falsely) claims has been done to him. In an interview with Univision, he said:

What they’ve done is they’ve released the genie out of the box. … They’ve done indictments in order to win an election. They call it weaponization, and the people aren’t going to stand for it. But yeah, they have done something that allows the next party. I mean, if somebody if I happen to be president and I see somebody who’s doing well and beating me very badly, I say go down and indict them. Mostly what that would be, you know, they would be out of business. They’d be out they’d be out of the election.

At a New Hampshire rally in October, Trump said:

This is third-world-country stuff, “arrest your opponent”. And that means I can do that, too.

In general, I’m trying to source Trump’s second-term plans to his own words and quotes from allied organizations and named advisors, rather than anonymous sources (though the Mueller Report often attached names and testimony under oath to anonymously-sourced reports Trump had labeled “fake news” at the time). But I’ll make an exception for this quote from the WaPo:

In private, Trump has told advisers and friends in recent months that he wants the Justice Department to investigate onetime officials and allies who have become critical of his time in office, including his former chief of staff, John F. Kelly, and former attorney general William P. Barr, as well as his ex-attorney Ty Cobb and former Joint Chiefs of Staff chairman Gen. Mark A. Milley, according to people who have talked to him, who, like others, spoke on the condition of anonymity to describe private conversations. Trump has also talked of prosecuting officials at the FBI and Justice Department, a person familiar with the matter said.

One person who believes this account is John Kelly:

There is no question in my mind he is going to go after people that have turned on him.

Use the military against Americans. During his administration, Trump threatened to invoke the Insurrection Act, which allows deploying the active-duty military to enforce law and order within the United States itself. (During riots and natural disasters, governors may call out their state’s chapter of the National Guard, which consists of ordinary citizens and is the successor to the “militia” mentioned in the Constitution.) According to the NYT, he was talked out of doing so by Attorney General Bill Barr, Defense Secretary Mark Esper, and Joint Chiefs Chair Mark Milley — exactly the kind of appointees he will avoid in a second administration.

Instead, Trump reportedly plans to invoke the Insurrection Act on Day One of a second term. This would put the military on call to respond wherever he found it necessary.

Turn the federal government into a patronage machine. In the early days of the United States, the government worked according to the “spoils system”, in which federal jobs were plums a new president could award to his political allies. This led to a lot of corruption and inefficiency, so a series of reforms were passed that made most federal jobs nonpartisan civil service jobs.

Trump began trying to undo the civil service in his first term. A month before the 2020 election, he ordered the creation of “Schedule F” jobs — tens of thousands of positions formerly protected by civil service rules that would become fireable by the president.

Rather than take advantage of this power grab, President Biden reversed Trump’s executive order. But Trump has pledged to restore it if he regains office. Presidents already need to make about 4000 appointments when they take office, but Trump’s plan could cover ten times as many jobs. The Heritage Foundation’s Project 2025 is assembling a database of Trump loyalists who could fill those jobs. According to Axios:

intense attention will be given to the social-media histories of anyone being considered for top jobs. Those queasy about testing the limits of Trump’s power will get flagged and rejected.

Create massive detention camps for immigrants and the homeless. Trump has pledged to conduct “the largest domestic deportation operation in American history”, a statement fleshed out by Trump advisor and speech-writer Stephen Miller, who told the NYT:

Any activists who doubt President Trump’s resolve in the slightest are making a drastic error: Trump will unleash the vast arsenal of federal powers to implement the most spectacular migration crackdown. The immigration legal activists won’t know what’s happening.

Miller is talking about rounding up not just “illegal” immigrants, deporting “millions per year”, but also revoking the legal status of many others: foreign students who participate in demonstrations Trump disagrees with, immigrants granted temporary protected status because they escaped from countries the US deems unsafe, Afghans evacuated after the Taliban takeover, and others.

To help speed mass deportations, Mr. Trump is preparing an enormous expansion of a form of removal that does not require due process hearings. To help Immigration and Customs Enforcement carry out sweeping raids, he plans to reassign other federal agents and deputize local police officers and National Guard soldiers voluntarily contributed by Republican-run states.

To ease the strain on ICE detention facilities, Mr. Trump wants to build huge camps to detain people while their cases are processed and they await deportation flights. And to get around any refusal by Congress to appropriate the necessary funds, Mr. Trump would redirect money in the military budget, as he did in his first term to spend more on a border wall than Congress had authorized.

Trump has also proposed tent cities for the homeless, who would be arrested and relocated. [8]

The threat of non-action. In addition to the things Trump is planning to do in a second administration, we have to consider the things he might choose not to do: enforce the law against groups who do violence against his opponents. From the beginning, Trump has defended his supporters when they get violent, from describing two Trumpists who beat a homeless man in 2015 as “passionate” to saying “We love you. You’re very special.” to the January 6 rioters, whom he says he will pardon.

In the early Hitler years, the more serious threat was not that the official Gestapo would whisk you away to a concentration camp, but that the unofficial Brownshirts would beat or murder you with no interference from the police. Kristallnact was not police enforcing draconian laws, but hooligans running free. If you think the Proud Boys or Oath Keepers wouldn’t like to play a similar role today, you haven’t been paying attention.


[1] On the Right, the word communist is still used this way, as when Trump promised to “root out the communists, Marxists, fascists and the radical-left thugs that live like vermin within the confines of our country”. I doubt he could define communist, Marxist, or fascist. The words are simply barbs that he throws at people.

[2] Four years after my F-word post, Trump made this point clearly in his January 6 speech:

Just remember this: You’re stronger, you’re smarter, you’ve got more going than anybody. And they try and demean everybody having to do with us. And you’re the real people, you’re the people that built this nation. You’re not the people that tore down our nation.

[3] The 2020 Republican Convention, for example, refused to write a platform that would endorse any specific policies, but declared instead that it “enthusiastically supports President Trump” and would “enthusiastically support the President’s America-first agenda” — whatever turns that might take.

any motion to amend the 2016 Platform or to adopt a new platform, including any motion to suspend the procedures that will allow doing so, will be ruled out of order

Going forward, the Republican Party would be Donald Trump, and its policies would be whatever Trump said they were.

[4] You might think Nichols’ article would have an apologetic tone, something like: “You guys were right, he is a fascist.” But no. Those of us who saw further ahead than Nichols are to blame for “the overuse of fascist” that “wore out the part of the public’s eardrums that could process such words”.

I see it the other way: Maybe if people like Nichols had taken Trump’s fascism more seriously in 2015, more of the public could have processed the threat then, and we could have avoided this whole mess.

[5] Trump supporters discount the January 6 Committee’s findings because (after Kevin McCarthy pulled all of his appointees and Nancy Pelosi named Republicans Liz Cheney and Adam Kinzinger to replace them) no members of the committee defended Trump.

What this point ignores is that nearly all the testimony heard by the committee came from Trump appointees, Republicans at the state level who supported Trump’s 2020 campaign, and even members of the Trump family. There would have been more even testimony from Trump supporters if so many (including Trump himself) had not refused to testify. Steve Bannon, Mark Meadows, Jim Jordan, and Peter Navarro went so far as to defy subpoenas.

I can’t help believing that if any of those people could have testified to Trump’s innocence without committing perjury, they would have.

The possible bias of the Committee’s report was an issue in the recent hearing in a Colorado court about whether Trump is disqualified from being on the ballot in 2024 by the 14th Amendment’s insurrection clause. The judge’s ruling noted:

while Trump spent much time contesting potential biases of the Committee members and their staff, he spent almost no time attacking the credibility of the Committee’s findings themselves. The Hearing [in Colorado] provided Trump with an opportunity to subject these findings to the adversarial process, and he chose not to do so, despite frequent complaints that the Committee investigation was not subject to such a process. Because Trump was unable to provide the Court with any credible evidence which would discredit the factual findings of the January 6th Report, the Court has difficulty understanding the argument that it should not consider its findings

[6] You might think, “A second Trump administration would just be four years, because of the 22nd Amendment.” But already during the 2020 campaign, Trump floated plans to serve more than two terms.

We are going to win four more years. And then after that, we’ll go for another four years because they spied on my campaign. We should get a redo of four years.

Doubting his intent would be repeating another mistake Germans made with Hitler: believing that he didn’t really mean what he said. Hitler’s 1925 book Mein Kampf laid out much of what he wanted to do and later did, but many Germans refused to take his writings seriously.

[7] That position is hard to square with the evidence those indictments lay out. Trump has been indicted because he committed crimes.

In practice, Trump simply does not address the evidence against him. See the quote from the judge’s ruling in note [5].

[8] In this context, it’s worth pointing out that the Nazi death camps did not start out as death camps, and did not specifically target Jews. In the beginning, the camps housed “undesirables” like Communists. Over time, the definition of “undesirable” expanded, and the limits of what could be done to them loosened.

Can we talk about Israel and Palestine?

The endless spiral of tragedy seems too depressing to contemplate. But beyond the repetitive segments of the 24-hour news cycle, a few articles are worth paying attention to.


Nobody I know, including me, wants to talk about the war in Gaza and Israel. Sometimes we feel compelled to: It is the news, after all. It is consequential, and informed citizens in the world’s most powerful democracy should form opinions about it.

And yet …

I’ve been witnessing, experiencing, and occasionally complaining about this phenomenon for nearly a month now (since the October 7 Hamas attacks on southern Israel). But it really came home to me Friday evening. I was at a church potluck dinner. My church is full of opinionated people, many of whom have a fairly high assessment of their grasp of world affairs. Then someone brought up the war, and there was an awkward silence. Eventually we segued onto some other topic.

I did not break the silence, because anything it occurred to me to say sounded either pompous or stupid. I have no simple paradigm that lays everything out clearly, and no five-point plan for peace. The people who can fit everything into a simple frame — whether that frame is the Global Zionist Conspiracy or God’s promise to Abraham’s descendants in Genesis 15 — are more likely to be part of the problem than part of the solution. The situation seems to illustrate a famous Bertrand Russell quote:

One of the painful things about our time is that those who feel certainty are stupid, and those with any imagination and understanding are filled with doubt and indecision.

And yet, a simple Google search for a source shows that this quote is out of context: Russell’s next line was “I do not believe this is necessary”, and from there he laid out a hopeful message of how he believed human happiness might be achieved.

I have no comparable vision. But if I have no grand explanation to present, Russell at least inspires me to start collecting articles and ideas that seem useful if we want to think seriously about the situation.

Colonialism plays a role, but maybe not the one you think. In the critique of Israel that is popular in some left-wing circles, Zionism is just one more example of White colonists stealing land from indigenous peoples. Previous examples include the United States, where Native Americans were steadily pushed onto smaller and smaller reservations, and the apartheid regime of 20th-century South Africa. In this narrative, the foundation of Israel is an unjust act of Jewish aggression from the beginning, and all the subsequent unhappiness — from the Nakba of 1948 to last month’s Hamas attacks and the Israeli reprisals — can be laid at the door of the early Zionists and their contemporary successors.

Simon Sebag Montefiore does a good debunking of this view in “The Decolonization Narrative Is Dangerous and False” in The Atlantic: Most of the Jews who moved to Israel in the last century or two were not “settlers” so much as refugees — from Czarist pogroms, Nazi death camps, Soviet oppression, Ethiopia, or long-vanished Jewish quarters of Muslim cities like Baghdad. Many of these refugees (especially the Ethiopians) do not fit any reasonable definition of White. Josh Marshall echoes this point:

You cannot look at the range of inhabitants of Israel and all the Palestinian territories together and think the conflict is fundamentally or consistently about skin color. Many Ashkenazi Jews [i.e. from European backgrounds], in American terms, look white. But more than half of Israel’s Jewish population is descended from Jews from the Arab and Islamic worlds. There are many Palestinians and Israeli Jews who could not be readily identified as one or the other by physical appearance or skin color alone.

There is a role for colonialism in this narrative, but it is more subtle. (I’m leaving Montefiore’s article at this point and going off on my own interpretation of history.) In the aftermath of the Holocaust (and the Western world’s relative indifference to it as it was happening), the Zionist vision of a sanctuary for Jews — a place that would always accept them and never throw them out — became compelling for many non-Jews. Once, Western liberals might have imagined that civilization and education would eventually overcome the ancient prejudices, but what society had been more civilized or better educated than Germany? And among those ancient prejudices, antisemitism seemed virtually unique. Jews, of course, are not the only group that has ever been persecuted, and the Holocaust was not history’s only genocide. But antisemitism’s ability to subside for decades and then spring up with renewed virulence made virtually any nation’s guarantees suspect.

In addition to that theoretical justification, there was a practical problem that needed a solution: Postwar Europe was full of displaced persons, including many survivors of the death camps. They couldn’t be sent back to their families, who were either dead or similarly displaced. Often their entire villages no longer existed, or were now occupied by the people who had collaborated with the Nazis to send them away. But they had to go somewhere.

Palestine was of course where the Zionists envisioned their homeland, but the great powers were not bound by their preferences. (Michael Chabon’s novel The Yiddish Policemen’s Union takes place in an alternate history where part of Alaska became a sanctuary for Jews fleeing the Holocaust.) There was even a certain logic to making the nations that caused the problem pay the price: What if, say, Bavaria, where Hitler’s movement got its start, had been set aside as a Jewish homeland?

But even suggesting such a thing sounds laughable, because Bavaria already had citizens (some of whom share my last name, though I’ve never met them) and cities like Munich. But so did everyplace else, including Palestine. The world had no desirable empty spaces. The challenge was to find a place whose current inhabitants volunteered, or could be induced to cooperate.

Or whose desires could be ignored.

What separated Palestine from everyplace else wasn’t just the Zionist vision, it was that the Arab world had no power. World War I had brought down the Ottoman Empire, and the subsequent treaty of 1922 divided the region into a British mandate and a French mandate. These colonial powers then drew the outlines of the subsequent states: Syria and Lebanon by the French, and Iraq, Jordan, and the Hejaz (a forerunner of Saudi Arabia) by the British. The strife-torn histories of several of these states comes in part from their unnatural founding. (As we saw during the Iraq War, there is little reason for Iraqi Kurdistan — largely the Ottoman province of Mosul — to belong to the same country as the former Ottoman provinces of Baghdad and Basra.)

When Britain and the United Nations (with American support) split the Palestine mandate into a Jewish state and an Arab state, the great powers were doing what great powers often do: paying their moral debts with someone else’s assets.

Today, Americans often shake our heads at the two sides: Why can’t they get along? We are dismayed when every dispute seems to have no beginning: The Israelis have no choice but to do Z, because the Palestinians did Y. And the Palestinians had no choice but to do Y, because the Israelis had already done X … back and back and back to A and beyond. “Why not leave them to fight it out?” we sometimes think, because it has nothing to do with us.

But it has everything to do with us. We played a large role in the great-power coalition that redrew the world after World War II. That arrangement set the Israeli Jews and the Palestinians up to fight with each other. What has happened since was not fate; both sides have made mistakes and have blown opportunities to seek peace. But it’s not all their fault either.

Jews deserve a state. The Western powers should not have made Palestine provide one. That is history now and there’s no undoing it. Generations have been born and died in Israel; moving either the Israelis or the Palestinians somewhere else would be no more just than moving you or me from our homes. But we also can’t wash our hands of the current situation. If there is some way to resolve it that demands sacrifice, the US, Britain, the EU, and perhaps other countries should be ready to make some of those sacrifices.

The situations in Gaza and the West Bank may be linked, but we can’t lose sight of the differences. Here I would point you to Matt Yglesias’ “Israel’s Two Wars“. He believes that Israel has little choice but to root Hamas out of Gaza (with all the costs that entails), but opposes what has been happening slowly for decades on the West Bank.

while Israel is waging a just war in Gaza, they are in parallel waging an unjust war in the West Bank. This second war is much less spectacular, much more of a slow burn, and at the moment, is causing much less death and destruction to innocent civilians. That these two wars — one just but spectacularly deadly, one unjust but lower-key — are playing out in tandem is contributing to a confused and polarized debate over a set of issues that were already quite fraught.

Yglesias believes that the closest the two sides came to peace was at the 2008 summit in Annapolis. The framework of that near-agreement was that Israel got to keep its most populous West Bank settlements, in exchange for giving the new Palestinian state land elsewhere. Obviously that compromise gets harder for Palestinians to accept the more settlements there are. Yglesias believes that sabotaging such a two-state solution has been a deliberate Netanyahu policy.

Josh Marshall interprets Netanyahu slightly differently:

Benjamin Netanyahu’s return to power in 2009 was based on a very different premise [than an Annapolis-style agreement]: that the Palestinian issue could be managed indefinitely rather than resolved and with no major repercussions. …

For those of us who never believed this could be true, it did slowly become a matter of reason over experience. That couldn’t go on forever. And yet, year after year somehow it did. Israel’s economy grew stronger. It normalized relations with more Arab countries. It even managed a de facto normalization and something close to a de facto, though sub rosa, alliance with Saudi Arabia. It couldn’t work and yet it kept working. Until it didn’t.

What exploded Netanyahu’s legitimacy and reputation on October 7th wasn’t just an abject national security failure. It exploded the whole idea that the occupation could be effectively managed and that Benjamin Netanyahu could manage it.

He sees a return to the Netanyahu status quo as a failure of imagination: a simultaneous inability to imagine peace and an inability to imagine the nightmares that will continue to happen until both sides are willing to take risks for peace.

What might happen in Gaza. One of the most dismal aspects of thinking about this war is that all roads seem to lead nowhere. Simply punishing Hamas, but leaving it in control of Gaza, just starts the clock ticking down to the next attack. But occupying Gaza would be an endless quagmire.

In Iraq, the US demonstrated the limits of military power: A superior military can go wherever it wants and destroy whatever it chooses. Any goal that can be achieved by going places and destroying things can be achieved by military might alone. However, neither winning over a population that hates you nor establishing a government they will cooperate with fits that description.

Israel wants to wind up living next to a Gaza that is stable rather than a launching pad for future attacks like the ones we just saw. But what kind of government could achieve such a goal?

Francis Foer takes on this challenge in “Tell Me How This Ends“.

Thus far, the Israelis have answered the question only in the negative. Although some of the ultranationalists in the Netanyahu government openly fantasize about reoccupying Gaza, Defense Minister Yoav Gallant has said that his government won’t pursue that path, which would come at a financial, military, and moral cost that Israel apparently doesn’t want to bear. But the alternative to a postwar occupation of some sort is lawlessness, which would permit Hamas’s return, thus undermining the very purpose of the war.

Foer asked “a former prime minister, a former national security adviser, and a former head of Mossad, as well as longtime diplomats and analysts in Washington” to imagine “a plausible endgame for Gaza”.

What I found was both a surprising degree of consensus on a plan for life after Hamas, and a lack of faith in the current Israeli government’s ability to execute it.

That plan has a number of moving parts, and requires a number of countries, including the Gazans themselves, to make sensible decisions. The basic steps are

  • Israel goes into Gaza and destroys Hamas as a viable government. But it does not stay as an occupying power.
  • During a transition period that is framed from the beginning as temporary, a collection of Arab countries not aligned with Iran — the article suggests Egypt, Jordan, the Emirates, and Morocco — manage a reconstruction. Presumably, this reconstruction is funded by some combination of the oil-rich Arab states, the US, and the EU.
  • What makes the transition temporary is turning Gaza over to the Palestinian Authority that currently oversees the West Bank.

Each participant buy-in might be difficult to achieve, but Foer tries to answer those objections: Egypt will want its companies to get reconstruction contracts. The PA will want to “substantially [bolster] its position in the West Bank.”

It would almost certainly demand stringent constraints on settlement expansion and promises of greater autonomy, measures that Netanhyahu and coalition partners abhor.

Now we’re back to the “sacrifices for peace” from the last section. So why would the Israeli government (whatever it looks like when the war ends) make such concessions?

In the midst of such gloom, I also thought I detected muffled hints of hope. Israelis almost universally invoked the unexpected aftermath of the 1973 Yom Kippur War, the other cataclysmic lapse in the history of the nation’s defense, so searing that it scrambled the politics of both Israel and its neighbors. Some of the Jewish state’s old enemies finally accepted its existence. Fervent hawks in Israel became ambitious peacemakers. No Israeli was willing to stake their reputation on the rise of a new alignment, but they all wanted to believe in its imminence, beyond the carnage.

A million things can go wrong with the plan Foer describes, and with the resolution of Gaza as a stepping stone to a broader peace. Certainly, plans that seemed more promising have failed in the past. Peace is definitely a long shot. But we have to hope that at some point all involved will realize that there is no alternative. At that point, an admonition of the original Zionist, Theodore Herzl, can be repurposed: “If you will it, it is no dream.

Mike Johnson is worse than you think

Most Americans don’t know much about Christian Nationalism.
They’re about to find out.


If you hadn’t heard of Mike Johnson until this week, don’t be embarrassed. Neither had I and neither had anybody but his Louisiana constituents and the most obsessive observers of politics. And so since Wednesday, when the House Republican caucus suddenly pulled unity out of a hat and elected Johnson speaker on a party-line vote, we’ve seen a lot of scrambling to characterize him.

Matt Gaetz, who had started this three-week circus by introducing a motion to get rid of Kevin McCarthy, declared victory by christening Johnson as “MAGA Mike”. Critics pointed to his role in Trump’s election denial: He organized the 100+ House Republicans who signed an amicus brief in the Texas lawsuit challenging the electoral votes of Georgia, Michigan, Wisconsin, and Pennsylvania, and offered legal cover to the 147 Republicans who voted not to certify Joe Biden’s victory.

After initially repeating Trump’s baseless lie that voting software developed for Venezuelan dictator Hugo Chavez had flipped votes from Trump to Biden (the same lie that Fox News refused to defend in court, and so had to pay Dominion Voting Systems $787 million to compensate for), by January 6 Johnson was making a claim less obviously insane:

On the eve of the Jan. 6 votes, Mr. Johnson had honed his arguments undermining the election to be more palatable. He presented colleagues with arguments they could use to oppose the will of the voters without embracing conspiracy theories and the lies of widespread fraud pushed by Mr. Trump. Mr. Johnson instead faulted the way some states had changed voting procedures during the pandemic, saying it was unconstitutional. [1]

Other people noted his extreme views on social issues: Johnson has sponsored a six-week abortion ban. As a lawyer for Americans Defending Freedom, he defended laws criminalizing gay sex (which doesn’t sound very freedom-loving to me). He sponsored a federal version of Florida’s Don’t Say Gay law. He’s a climate-change denier who fights all efforts to discourage fossil fuel use. His discussion of the border dog-whistles the racist Great Replacement Theory. All of which caused the NYT’s Jamelle Bouie to characterize him as “an election-denying extremist who believes that his allies have the right to nullify election results so that they can impose their vision of government and society on an unwilling public”.

And that analysis is true as far as it goes, but it misses the underlying theme that justifies these views and portends worse ones we haven’t heard yet: Mike Johnson is a Christian Nationalist.

Christian Nationalism. In a nutshell, Christian Nationalism is the belief that the United States was founded not as a secular republic, but as a specifically Christian nation. In an interview with Politico, Kristin Kobes Du Mez, a historian who specializes in evangelical Christianity and politics, elaborates:

Christian nationalism essentially posits the idea that America is founded on God’s laws, and that the Constitution is a reflection of God’s laws. Therefore, any interpretation of the Constitution must align with Christian nationalists’ understanding of God’s laws. Freedom for them means freedom to obey God’s law, not freedom to do what you want.

On most contentious issues, this puts Christian Nationalists on the same side as ordinary conservatives, and makes it easy to confuse one with the other. But there’s a difference: Ordinary conservatives at least give lip service to the idea of fairness, while Christian Nationalists don’t. Their side represents God’s Truth, so of course they should win. The appropriate standards are God’s standards, so it would be ridiculous to apply abstract rules equally to both sides.

For example, one point I often make in my articles on the Supreme Court’s “religious freedom” cases is that they aren’t about freedom at all; they’re about giving special rights to Christians. (The “praying football coach” won his case because he’s Christian. No Muslim or other non-Christian coach should imagine that the Court will defend his right to lead players in prayer on the 50-yard line.) But I make that point expecting the other side to deny it. If I could argue with Sam Alito or Amy Coney Barrett, I would expect them to spin their position in a way that makes it sound scrupulously principled and fair.

Similarly, when I accuse MAGA Republicans of being against democracy, I expect them to dodge, not to confront the point. Somehow, they’ll paint gerrymandering, voter suppression, the Electoral College, and the filibuster as pro-democracy, not anti-democracy.

But in either case, a true Christian Nationalist might accept my characterization and openly defend it: Of course Christians should get special rights, because the United States is a Christian nation. And ultimate sovereignty belongs to God, not to the People. If democracy leads to the People voting down God’s laws, then democracy has to go. [2]

For example, in this broadcast radio host Brian Fischer of the American Family Association claimed that the First Amendment’s “free exercise” clause only applies to Christians.

But the point is, by “religion” the Founders were thinking of Christianity. So the purpose was to protect the free exercise of the Christian faith. It wasn’t about protecting anything else. They weren’t providing any cover or shelter for the free exercise of Islam or even Judaism or even atheism. They weren’t saying you can’t do it, I want to be clear on that. They weren’t prohibiting that. They were just saying “That’s not what we’re talking about here.” …

If we don’t understand the word “religion” to mean “Christianity” as the Founders intended it, then we have no way to stop Islam. We have no way to stop Satanism. We have no way to stop any other sort of sinister religious practice that might creep onto these fruited plains.

Mike Johnson. While Du Mez admitted she had never heard Johnson characterize himself as a Christian Nationalist, she believes the shoe fits.

I feel comfortable applying that [label]; it’s not in a pejorative way. It’s simply descriptive. As he understands it, this country was founded as a Christian nation. …

But he goes much deeper than that, and really roots that in what he would call a biblical worldview: The core principles of our nation reflect these biblical truths and biblical principles. He has gone on record saying things like, for him, this biblical worldview means that all authority comes from God and that there are distinct realms of God-ordained authority, and that is the family, the church and the government.

Now, all this authority, of course, is under this broader understanding of God-given authority. So it’s not the right of any parents to decide what’s best for their kids; it’s the right of parents to decide what’s best for their kids in alignment with his understanding of biblical law. Same thing with the church’s role: It is to spread Christianity but also to care for the poor. That’s not the government’s job.

And then the government’s job is to support this understanding of authority and to align the country with God’s laws.

You can hear his belief in God’s sovereignty in his first speech to the House as Speaker:

I want to tell all my colleagues here what I told the Republicans in that room last night. I don’t believe there are any coincidences in a manner like this. I believe that scripture, the Bible is very clear that God is the one that raises up those in authority. He raised up each of you, all of us, and I believe that God has ordained and allowed each one of us to be brought here for this specific moment in this time. [3]

In an interview he gave during his first campaign for Congress, Johnson said:

We don’t live in a democracy, because a democracy is two wolves and a lamb deciding what’s for dinner. … The Founders set [our system] up because they followed the Biblical admonition on what a civil society is supposed to look like.

And:

The Founders believed that we’re endowed by our Creator with these rights, and that we owe our allegiance ultimately to our Creator, because He’s going to be the judge of all of us. One day, every knee is going to bow before the Lord.

God ordained civil government with certain authority. But He gave it limited authority. … The overarching problem we have right now is that the government has gone beyond the scope of the authority that was ordained by God. … And when the government grows and it expands its scope of authority, it usurps it from somewhere else. It takes the power and authority that God had ordained for the Church and the Family.

The Christian-establishing Constitution is what Christian Nationalists have in mind when they talk about defending or restoring “the Constitution” — not the document that you or I might read, the one that never once mentions God, and whose meanings and intentions Americans have been arguing about since the Founding, but that document overlaid with a very specific set of interpretations rooted in an Evangelical Christian moral vision.

In this way, they are treating the Constitution much the way they treat the Bible itself — as if their own very elaborate interpretations were sitting right there in the text. As Speaker Johnson told Sean Hannity:

I am a Bible-believing Christian – someone asked me today… people are curious, “What does Mike Johnson think about any issue under the Sun?” I said, “Well, go pick up a Bible off your shelf and read it, that’s my worldview – that’s what I believe.”

But if you ever do what Johnson suggests — pick up a Bible and try to read it de novo, as if no one had ever told you what it is supposed to mean — you almost certainly will fail to find anything resembling a “worldview”, and certainly not a view that transparently applies to the 21st-century world. [4]

Instead, you’ll find a number of evocative stories open to a wide range of interpretations. To take an extreme example from the very beginning: In the Garden of Eden story, it’s not entirely clear that the serpent is the villain. What the serpent tells Eve turns out to be true, and God’s threat that she will die if she eats the forbidden fruit only becomes true because God makes it true: He banishes her and Adam from the Garden specifically so that they won’t eat from the Tree of Life. So which of the two supernatural antagonists has Eve’s best interests at heart?

In short, the people who want to bring America “back to the Bible”, or to “restore the Constitution”, aren’t talking about the actual Bible or the actual Constitution. They are talking about these revered documents with their particular sect’s interpretations pasted on top of them.

And now one of them is running the House of Representatives.


[1] Note what is not being claimed here: that Biden’s voters weren’t real or weren’t entitled to vote. Instead, the claim is that these legitimate voters cast their votes in ways that shouldn’t have counted — like by mail in districts that in previous elections had different rules about voting by mail.

Even if this claim had some legal legitimacy, which I doubt, trying to fix it two months after the election violated the way we have always done things here in America: We argue about the election rules before the election. We don’t wait to see who wins, and then, if we lose, try to invalidate the votes of fellow citizens who voted in good faith under the rules their local officials had laid out for them.

[2] Arguing with a Christian Nationalist can be jarring for precisely this reason: They happily take the position you had hoped to trap them in. It’s as if a child accused their parents of liking another child better, and the parents replied, “Of course we like Jenny better. Now shut up and clean your room.”

[3] Someone needs to ask Johnson whether God has raised up Joe Biden to his current place of authority. I can’t guess what his answer would be.

[4] Try this experiment: Find some article (like this one) listing all the Bible verses that supposedly condemn abortion. Now go to each one and read the whole chapter the verse comes from. You will discover that, in context, these verses have nothing to do with abortion.

Anti-abortion views, like many other conservative Christian views, do not come from the Bible. They come from somewhere else — largely whatever the Christian community wants to believe — and are imposed on the Bible through interpretation.

The House, Still Divided

With several looming crises demanding Congress’ immediate attention,
the House of Representatives has been frozen for three weeks,

with no end in sight.


Quick review. Matt Gaetz moved to kick Kevin McCarthy out of the speaker’s chair three weeks ago. Eight Republicans and all the Democrats voted yes, so McCarthy was out. Then Steve Scalise tried to unify the Republican conference around his bid to be speaker, but he saw that wasn’t working and dropped his candidacy before a vote was held.

Next up was Jim Jordan, who had Trump’s endorsement and kept saying he could get the votes, but didn’t. Twenty Republicans voted against him on the first ballot, 22 on the second, and 25 on the third. Then the Republican conference held a secret ballot on whether he should continue, and the majority said no. So Jordan has also withdrawn. [1]

In between Jordan’s second and third attempts, the idea of empowering Speaker Pro Tempore Patrick McHenry came up. His exact powers under the current rules are vague, but are being interpreted narrowly, so that he can only preside over votes to elect a new speaker. The House could allow him to act more like a speaker himself, so that bills could come to the floor and the House could function again. [2] But that idea went nowhere within the Republican conference and never came to a vote on the floor.

Jordan’s third failed vote happened Friday, after which the Republican conference asked him not to continue. He withdrew, an ever-increasing number of obscure Republicans have thrown their names out as speaker candidates, and the Republicans took the weekend off, as if they had all the time in the world. They’ll reconvene tonight to try to find a new candidate, and maybe the whole House will vote sometime.

Meanwhile, the world is not waiting for House Republicans to either get their act together or ask Democrats for help. The Ukrainians and Israelis are undoubtedly running out of certain key munitions, and a government shutdown is looming in less than four weeks.

The Democrats. Meanwhile, House Democrats have stayed united behind Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries, and Republicans have not sought their cooperation.

On their own, without getting any concessions whatever, Democrats could have helped Republicans save McCarthy or elect Jordan — the only options that made it to the floor where they were allowed to vote. But other than maybe Gaetz or Marjorie Taylor Greene, Jordan is the last person Democrats want to see as speaker, so that was never going to happen. And McCarthy had crossed and double-crossed everybody during his nine months as speaker, so in the absence of a public deal, Democrats had no motive to bail him out of his well-earned troubles. (As one member put it: “It’s not our circus and he’s not our clown.”)

Democrats have been pretty clear about what they want in exchange for getting the Republicans out of this mess. [3] They want a power-sharing deal similar to what the Senate did last term when it was split 50/50: equal numbers from each party on committees (with Republicans as chairs, because the GOP still holds a majority), and some mechanism that would allow either party’s leadership to bring a bill to the floor.

They would probably settle for this much: A speaker who admits Joe Biden won the 2020 election, together with guarantees that the new speaker will

So far, though, Democrats have been offered exactly nothing. Republicans have insisted that they will elect a speaker on their own, which they have been unable to do.

Why are House Republicans doing this? It’s a great question. If you’re pressed for time, you can settle on “because they’re incompetent jerks” and not be wrong.

But I found two essays that offer a deeper understanding: Josh Marshall’s “The Inside Story of How Jim Jordan Broke the Model, Didn’t Become Speaker and Decided That was Fine“, which is behind TPM’s member paywall, and “The game theory of the Republican speakership crisis“, which is on Nate Silver’s Substack blog. [4]

Marshall describes the “stable and functional system” that House Republicans have operated under since the 2010 Tea Party wave election. This system is designed to deal with a particular problem: The mythology of the far Right says that they represent “the American people” [5], but their actual policies — ban abortion, promote fossil fuel use, cut Social Security, abandon Ukraine, expel the Dreamers, ban books about gender or race from schools and libraries, make voting as hard as possible, cut rich people’s taxes — are unpopular outside a few dozen deep-red districts. So the Party needs to have one message for its true believers and another for the general public.

The congressional party is controlled and run by the hard right minority variously called the Tea Party or Freedom Caucus. But they are a bit too hot for national public consumption. They also rely on the idea that their far right policy agenda has broad public support but is held back by a corrupt/bureaucratic establishment. For both of these reasons a system was developed in which this far right group runs the caucus, but from the background, while it is nominally run by a mainstreamish Republican leader. Under John Boehner, Paul Ryan or Kevin McCarthy this basic dynamic remained more or less the same. It works for everybody because the Freedom Party calls the shots while the party maintains broad electoral viability via figureheadish leadership.

Meanwhile the stresses created by the gap between party goals and electoral viability is played out in psychodrama between a cluster of self-styled rebels and the beleaguered leader of the moment. This feature is more important than it looks. The big Freedom Caucus beef with McCarthy was that he couldn’t take the far right legislation they jammed through the House and magically force the Senate to pass it and Biden to sign it. The true believers are thus in a perpetual state of being betrayed by a menagerie of RINOs and other softies who make up the ever-shifting definition of ‘the establishment,’ a fact that keeps the conservative media fundraising water wheel chugging forward.

Making Jim Jordan speaker would have broken this model, which is probably why it didn’t happen. Going into the 2024 congressional elections with Speaker Jordan would be suicide for Republicans in swing districts, and they know it. Meanwhile, members from pro-fascist districts can’t go back to their voters and say they elected a speaker who won’t impose his will on Biden by shutting down the government. So there are really only two possible outcomes:

  • A speaker so obscure that both the “Freedom” Caucus and swing-district Republicans can claim they got what they wanted (and express shock if the new speaker does something unpopular in their district).
  • A deal with Democrats that “Freedom” Caucus members can cite as a new betrayal by “the establishment”.

Glassman’s take. On Silver’s blog, Nate lets Matt Glassman explain how the House really works: A speaker’s power isn’t primarily located in his or her office, but comes from leading a procedural coalition.

In the modern House, the Speaker almost always has a partisan majority that gives him this deferential backing to create a procedural coalition. That is, backbench members vote in lockstep on procedural matters such as what bills to consider and what rules to consider them under, even if they are opposed to the actual legislation. They do this because the benefits they receive from the party, such as committee assignments, electoral support, and the help of other party members on bills they do like, outweigh the small costs of occasionally having bills on the floor they oppose. Bucking the party on procedural votes is a serious transgression.

In turn, the empowered leadership supports the backbenchers, by raising massive sums of money and spreading it around to campaigns, by protecting the Members from tough votes from coming up on the floor, and by developing a party program and negotiating deals between party factions, as well as with the Senate and president.

McCarthy’s problem during the 118th Congress was that he never had a stable procedural coalition.

So McCarthy was a Speaker In Name Only.

To Glassman, then, the question is bigger than just the one-day problem of electing a speaker: Going forward, does the majority that elects the new speaker represent a new coalition that the speaker can call on day after day to govern the House? If not, the chamber will soon be back in the same soup.

This is why it never made any sense for McCarthy to seek Democratic votes to bail him out when his partisan procedural coalition was failing. If Democrats had helped McCarthy win the Speakership in January—perhaps by voting present, as many observers suggested they could do in exchange for some goodies—it might have won him the office, but it would have left him in the exact same bind on the very next vote (the vote on the rules package). Unless he was willing to create a permanent procedural majority coalition with the Democrats, there was no point in getting their help that one time. His only choice was to try to make peace with the GOP rebels. Ditto on the resolution to vacate the Speakership.

Likewise, unless Democrats were ready to form a lasting coalition with McCarthy, it made no sense to save him.

McCarthy didn’t need one vote, one time. He needed an ongoing procedural coalition. Unless the Democrats were going to form a permanent alliance with him, saving him on the vacate vote wouldn’t have done any good.

Glassman notes the same far-right dynamic Marshall pointed out: Unlike the GOP moderates, the “Freedom” Caucus has a narrative that works either way:

In fact, the core brand of the Freedom Caucus is their opposition to the GOP House leadership. It’s almost impossible for the party leadership to discipline HFC members and induce party loyalty, because they prefer to be at odds with the leadership; defeating their policy proposals, cutting them out of negotiations, or calling them out publicly as disloyal to the party only serves to reinforce their brand among their constituents and allies in conservative media. …

And so the story of the 118th Congress has largely been one of the Freedom Caucus holding the GOP leadership hostage, forcing leadership to either sign on to their extreme conservative populist agenda—one that has no chance of policy success in the Senate or with President Biden—or see their procedural majority fall apart. There’s no compromise. You either do what they want, or you go work with the Democrats after they abandon you. It’s a win/win for them, in any case. They either get their policies, or they get their betrayal narrative.

Hardball competition. Most of the time, the competing wings of the GOP resemble the two women who came to Solomon claiming the same baby: When Solomon announced his decision to cut the baby in two, one woman was satisfied and the other withdrew her claim so that the baby might live. [6]

In my analogy (which Glassman doesn’t make), the baby is the country, the “Freedom” Caucus is the first woman, and the GOP establishment is the second. Again and again — the debt ceiling crisis is the most recent example — the far Right has shown itself willing to let the country come to harm if that’s what’s necessary to get their way.

They thought their tactics would work here: In the medium-to-long term, the country faces disaster with no speaker and a frozen Congress, and the Republican Party faces electoral disaster if its dysfunction keeps bringing this level of chaos while the whole world watches. So obviously the establishment Republicans would have to give in and let Jim Jordan take the gavel. With no Solomon in the picture to reward those who actually care about America, how could Jordan lose? Scalise played his assigned role as Solomon’s second woman and withdrew his claim, leaving Jordan as the only choice.

And that’s where the narrative changed. Such a blatant display of independence-for-me, party-loyalty-for-you was too much for a small group of moderates and Republicans interested in governing (like Appropriations Committee Chair Kay Granger, who is the point person on the issue of keeping the government open).

And this is the upshot to the first roll call vote on Jordan’s Speakership candidacy: a group in the GOP besides the Freedom Caucus decided to play hardball. The longstanding asymmetry and Freedom Caucus monopoly on hardball behavior may be coming to end.

Glassman has no idea how this resolves. He lays out four possibilities, one of which (Jordan grinding out an eventual victory the way McCarthy did in January) has already failed. The other three are:

  • Republicans come up with a candidate so obscure that all factions can spin his/her speakership as a victory. There’s a certain beer-goggles effect needed to bring this about: It’s getting late and they’ve got to go home with somebody. [7]
  • Moderates make a deal with Democrats.
  • There’s a bipartisan deal to empower McHenry, so the House can do business without a permanent speaker.

Glassman leans towards the third option, while recognizing that (like the other two) it’s just a band-aid: There’s still no governing coalition that can keep the House functioning.


[1] Tim Miller comments:

Is there a better encapsulation of the GOP elected officials during the Trump years than Jim Jordan winning 194-25 GOP votes in the public ballot and then losing the majority by secret ballot?

Miller is referring to the level of intimidation the GOP’s far right wields against the rest of the Republican caucus. At times this goes as far as physical threats, like those Don Bacon, Mariannette Miller-Meeks, Carlos Gimenez, and others complained about after opposing Jordan.

I want to sympathize with Bacon et al, but did they really not know until now that their party’s base is full of violent fascists? Wasn’t the attack on Nancy Pelosi’s husband a clue? Clearly, they just never thought the leopards would eat their faces.

For the record, Jordan has denounced threats against his opponents. But I’m not impressed. Back in the heyday of lynchings and the KKK, Southern states would send distinguished gentlemen to Congress, who of course would express horror about what the ruffians back home were doing. It meant nothing then and it means nothing now. Jordan plays to and postures for the violent Right, just as the Southern gentlemen did then.

[2] Article I Section 5 of the Constitution says, “Each House may determine the Rules of its Proceedings.” So the House can do whatever a majority of its members want, assuming a majority can be found to want something.

[3] Of course they’d be thrilled if a handful of Republicans would join them to make Jeffries speaker, but I don’t think even the Democrats who make that suggestion consider it a serious possibility.

[4] Substack will ask you to pay to subscribe to Silver’s blog, but it will let you click through without subscribing. BTW, I’m developing a policy on Substack subscriptions: I’m shameless about clicking through once or twice, but the fourth or fifth time I consult the same blog I usually subscribe.

[5] As Rep. Russell Fry said of Jim Jordan: “The American people trust him.” Clearly, Rep. Fry does not consider me an American.

[6] For those who don’t recall the rest of the story, Solomon’s first judgment was just a test. After he saw the women’s responses, he concluded that the woman who was willing to lose her case to save the baby’s life was the real mother.

[7] Matt Ygelsias jokes about the current list of nine candidates:

At least four of these people aren’t real, they’re just making up names.

My 9-11 Flashbacks

The worst damage we suffered from the attack came from the things we did in response.


I spent a lot of this week meditating about why I’ve been finding the reports out of Israel and Gaza so hard to watch. I suspect most of you haven’t had to think too hard about this question: You’re compassionate people and whenever others suffer on this scale, it’s naturally going to affect you. Turning away might not always be admirable, but it is certainly understandable.

Over the years, though, I’ve gotten pretty good at compartmentalizing other people’s pain. I don’t think that’s anything to brag about either, but I find it necessary in order to stare at the news as intently as I do each week. I need to be able to spend an afternoon focusing on hurricane survivors, the looming climate apocalypse, America’s rising fascist movement, and dozens of other dismal developments — and then go make dinner and talk to my wife about our next vacation. Whatever might be going on out there, dragging that misery into my personal life (and spreading it out among my friends) is not going to help.

But this week I’ve found myself ducking a lot of my standard news sources. A news anchor I usually like starts interviewing a young adult who narrowly escaped the Hamas attack, or parents who don’t know where their daughter is now, or a nurse who works in a Gaza hospital that will soon be unable to provide basic services — and I think: “Not another one. Can we get on to something else? Isn’t there a game I can watch?”

It took me several days to figure out what was going on: I’ve been reacting to this crisis personally because it keeps flashing me back to 9-11. Not to the events themselves (which happened out there in the world and so were handled, more or less, by my compartmentalization processes), but to the emotions that swept through the country afterward, and that I often got swept up in. Those emotions energized us to take action — horrible actions, as it turned out. Mistakes we are still paying for.

In my internal system, those emotions got tagged as dangerous. Alarm bells go off whenever I feel them, either because they are rising from within myself or because I am resonating empathically with others. Never do that again. Simply feeling those emotions makes me anticipate making some unfixable mistake.

Nous sommes tous Américains. The 9-11 attack did not affect me directly. I was not in New York, and no one I knew personally died on that day. I had been to the top of the World Trade Center years before, but the building held no great symbolic value for me. (I do remember spontaneously beginning to cry, though, when I heard reports that hijacked Flight 93, the one crashed by the passengers, might have been targeting the Capitol. The thought of losing the Capitol seemed overwhelming.)

So the Hamas attacks against Israel haven’t been flashing me back to watching the second plane hit (that’s when we knew the first wasn’t an accident), or to people jumping off the burning towers, or to anything else that happened on that day.

What I keeping flashing back to is the aftermath.

For a few days, maybe even longer, the whole world was on our side. Even in France, which had often and noisily chafed under decades of living in the shadow of American power, Le Monde announced “Nous sommes tous Américains” — We are all Americans. Even ten years later:

The Eiffel Tower itself was flanked by 82-foot-tall scaffolding replicas of the World Trade Center, emblazoned with a new slogan of solidarity, in French and English: Les Français N’oublieront Jaimais. The French Will Never Forget.

It didn’t take long for our shock and loss to transmute into wounded pride and a determination to strike back. Three days later, President Bush went to ground zero and addressed the rescue workers through a bullhorn.

I can hear you! I can hear you! The rest of the world hears you! And the people — and the people who knocked these buildings down will hear all of us soon!

And the crowd chanted back: USA! USA!

We weren’t victims any more. We were avengers.

The horribleness of the attack seemed to dwarf anything that had ever happened before. All previous moral judgments became trivial. Around the country, Americans were asking “Why do they hate us?”, as if hating the world’s hegemonic power required some deep explanation. And we did not wait for answers to that question, because we knew that there could be no answers. Even trying to answer might imply that we had this coming, and that thought was unthinkable.

Nine days after the attack, President Bush provided the only acceptable answer in an address to Congress: They are Evil, so they hate us because we are Good.

Americans are asking, why do they hate us?  They hate what we see right here in this chamber — a democratically elected government.  Their leaders are self-appointed.  They hate our freedoms — our freedom of religion, our freedom of speech, our freedom to vote and assemble and disagree with each other.

They want to overthrow existing governments in many Muslim countries, such as Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and Jordan.  They want to drive Israel out of the Middle East.  They want to drive Christians and Jews out of vast regions of Asia and Africa.

These terrorists kill not merely to end lives, but to disrupt and end a way of life.  With every atrocity, they hope that America grows fearful, retreating from the world and forsaking our friends.  They stand against us, because we stand in their way.

I remember that feeling: America was not merely a victim of evil, and we were not merely finding ourselves on the side of good: We were the avatar of Good. We now had a bottomless moral credit that would justify anything we chose to do in response.

And we used that credit.

We violated what we had agreed to in the Convention Against Torture, calculating (probably incorrectly) that the information we would get from suspected terrorists about potential attacks would prevent more suffering than we were inflicting. We violated our own constitution by setting up a “law-free zone” in Guantanamo, where we could do whatever we wanted to whomever we could ship there. We set up a means to ignore the rights of American citizens by declaring them “enemy combatants“.

Worst of all, we overthrew the governments of Afghanistan and Iraq without any notion of what to do next. Those invasions were popular when they happened, but they had been sold to the American public with a variety of shifting justifications and goals: We were preventing future attacks. We were shutting down terrorist bases. We were capturing weapons of mass destruction before they could be used against us. We were freeing people from oppression. We were spreading democracy. We would create models of government that would inspire the Muslim world.

And since neither the public nor the government had a clear picture of what we were doing, there were no principles to help us design our programs or standards to judge them by.

And it cost. At least seven thousand American troops died in combat, and half again as many contractors. Tens of thousands have committed suicide since returning home. Tens of thousands suffered debilitating wounds. The monetary cost ran into the trillions.

Notice that I have not even mentioned the death and suffering and material destruction that we inflicted on others.

And the value of what that sacrifice bought us is probably negative. In Afghanistan, we ended up giving the country back to the Taliban when the government and army we had spent 20 years building fell apart before we could even get our troops clear. In Iraq, we neutralized the regional counterweight to Iran, which is now a much bigger threat to us, to the Saudis, and to Israel than it ever was in Saddam’s day.

I can’t believe any American strategist intended those outcomes. But here we are.

The mousetrap. So that’s what I’ve been reliving: the thrill of believing I represent Good in its eternal struggle with Evil; the energy of rage running wild, unchecked by any of its usual restraints; the righteousness of a victimhood that grants me infinite moral credit, enough to balance anything I might decide to do — and how badly that all worked out.

Those feelings are the tastiest cheese any mousetrap ever offered.

How much of that cheese Israel and those who identify with Israel will now gobble up is hard to say. Maybe they’ll be wiser than we were. Maybe they’ll do better. Certainly there is one difference: President Bush enjoyed record approval ratings after 9-11, while Netanyahu has seen his popularity fall. Maybe that political reality will keep him grounded, and not let him see himself as a superhero who “will rid the world of the evil-doers“.

Maybe. We can all hope. History, Mark Twain is supposed to have said, does not actually repeat. It only rhymes. But listening for that rhyme has been wearing me down.

The Weirdness in the House

I admit to having been surprised when Speaker McCarthy was voted out by the House Tuesday. Ordinarily, when I see a guy getting ready to jump out of an airplane, I expect him to have a parachute somewhere.

McCarthy had been heading towards this moment since he became speaker in January: He made impossible promises to the MAGA faction, and changed the rules to give them an easy way to get rid of him if he didn’t keep those promises. When they threatened him, he said “Bring it on!“, scheduled the vote as soon as possible, and publicly announced he wouldn’t make a deal with Democrats to save himself.

I thought: “Wow! He must have some great trick up his sleeve.” And then: nothing. Splat!

This crisis wasn’t just predictable, it was predicted. In January, Jonathan Chait envisioned the coming debt-ceiling negotiation, which he framed as a hostage-and-ransom situation [1]:

In the current circumstances, a successful hostage release would be all but impossible. Imagine a Republican Speaker — any Republican Speaker — figuring out a ransom that almost the entire caucus could agree on. The intraparty dynamics virtually guarantee that anything a Republican leader could agree to would immediately be seen on the far right as too little.

And I added:

The procedural concessions McCarthy has made mean that he can be recalled as speaker if he doesn’t negotiate a high enough ransom.

McCarthy had nine months to contemplate this scenario, and did manage to survive the debt ceiling deal in May. But the subsequent swerve to avoid a government shutdown nailed him. If he ever had a plan, he didn’t put it into operation. Even in retrospect, I can’t guess what he thought was going to happen.

This chain of events proves that I can’t be relied on to tell you what will happen next. So instead I’ll focus on what can happen and what should happen.

The Speaker pro tem. Since McCarthy’s ouster, the speaker’s chair has been occupied by a speaker pro tempore — literally “speaker for a time”. The temp is Patrick McHenry of North Carolina, and his name comes from a list that McCarthy had to provide when he became speaker.

My first thought was that McHenry would be like the temporary buildings that got built to house the military during World War II, many of which are still standing: The Republican caucus is too dysfunctional to elect a new speaker, so the temp will wield the gavel until the next Congress is seated in 2025. (With any luck, Democrats will take back the House and we’ll be done with this nonsense.)

But that doesn’t seem like a viable option without a rule change, which might be just as hard as electing a new speaker. Rule I, Clause 8(b)(3) says:

In the case of a vacancy in the Office of Speaker, the next Member on the list described in subdivision (B) shall act as Speaker pro tempore until the election of a Speaker or a Speaker pro tempore. Pending such election the Member acting as Speaker pro tempore may exercise such authorities of the Office of Speaker as may be necessary and appropriate to that end. [my emphasis]

The first version of this I saw omitted “to that end”, which (in my reading) changes everything. McHenry’s authority appears to be limited to whatever is needed to elect a new speaker. [2]

But not so fast, claims Matt Glassman of Georgetown’s Government Affairs Institute. “that end” might be interpreted not as “the election of a Speaker”, but as “act as Speaker pro tempore”. In that case, McHenry might have have broad powers. There’s no precedent for this situation, so whatever the current House allows will become the precedent.

So far, McHenry appears to be taking a narrow view of his powers, with one exception: Tossing Nancy Pelosi out of the courtesy office McCarthy allowed her doesn’t seem to serve the end of electing a new speaker. It’s trivial, but it might be a test. If the House elects a new speaker quickly, McHenry probably won’t test his powers further. If Republicans deadlock, though, the temptation to do something substantive will grow as the November 17 shutdown deadline looms. [3]

Potential speakers. So far two Republican candidates have announced themselves: Jim Jordan and Steve Scalise. Scalise is the current majority leader, and so would be the leadership’s next-man-up after McCarthy. However, Scalise is currently battling blood cancer and may not have the energy. Next up after him would be Majority Whip Tom Emmer, who is supporting Scalise and hopes to become majority leader if Scalise moves up.

Jordan is the “Freedom” Caucus candidate and has been endorsed by Trump. When he was nominated against McCarthy in January (despite claiming to support McCarthy himself), Jordan got at most 20 votes. So I have to see Jordan’s candidacy as a test of Trump’s influence; he’d never be elected on his own.

Putting this as delicately as possible, Jim Jordan is not the sharpest knife in the drawer. The nonpartisan Center for Effective Lawmaking has rated Jordan one of the least effective lawmakers in Congress (202nd out of 205 Republicans examined), based on him sponsoring very few bills and passing hardly any of them. He has a law degree from Capitol University, but has never passed a bar exam. In his memoir of his years as speaker, John Boehner called out the “political terrorists” in the Republican caucus; in a subsequent interview, he named Jordan as an example:

I just never saw a guy who spent more time tearing things apart ― never building anything, never putting anything together.

And then there’s the whole he-ignored-sexual-abuse thing from when he was a wrestling coach at Ohio State.

The Speaker needs to be a master of House procedure, skilled at forming and speaking for a consensus, and an ace vote-counter. Nancy Pelosi had those skills, which is how she managed to get so much done with a majority the same size as McCarthy’s. McCarthy lacked the skills, and Jordan seems like the antithesis of a good speaker.

Scalise has his own issues. He once billed himself as “David Duke without the baggage“. Since “the baggage” was a long history of KKK leadership, that ought to give his supporters pause.

Before he endorsed Jordan, a number of people suggested Trump himself become speaker, since the Constitution does not require the speaker to be a member of the House. However, the rules of the Republican House caucus bar anyone under indictment for serious crimes from serving in leadership, so they’d need to change that. Trump has fanned this speculation, and is still floating the idea that he might take the job temporarily, but I suspect he doesn’t want the headache of having real responsibilities.

Any of these candidates would need near-unanimity in the House GOP to get over the top, and so will probably need to make the same sorts of impossible promises McCarthy made. Presumably they’d have to prove their toughness by shutting down the government in November. But again, what possible ransom could the new speaker get from Biden and Schumer that Gaetz et al would consider enough? So aren’t we right back here by Christmas or so?

In short, I don’t see how House Republicans resolve this on their own.

Fantastic (but possible) solutions. Now we get to what should happen: Republican moderates, especially the 18 representing districts Biden won in 2020, should find their backbones and play the same kind of hardball the MAGA wing plays.

Rep. Mike Lawler of New York, whose district voted for Biden by 10 points in 2020, attacked Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries for not bailing out McCarthy, as if Democrats should have agreed to an imaginary deal that McCarthy refused to offer. [4] In response, AOC suggested Lawler support Jeffries for speaker, an obviously suicidal move for a Republican who would surely lose a primary challenge afterwards.

But here’s what could and should happen: Lawler (or some similar non-MAGA Republican; Michelle Goldberg suggested Brian Fitzpatrick of Pennsylvania) should announce his own candidacy for speaker together with support from a handful of fellow moderates. He should pledge not to shut down the government, to fulfill the deal McCarthy made with Biden to avoid a debt-ceiling default in May, and to pass rules that would create a more even sharing of power between the two parties. (Not full parity, but closer to it.) Then he should ask for Democratic support. If his handful of Republicans held firm and the Democrats came through, he’d be speaker, and the House could start to function again. Republicans and Democrats could negotiate with each other in good faith, rather than tee up another hostage crisis.

Jeffries appears to be open to such an arrangement:

The details would be subject to negotiation, though the principles are no secret: The House should be restructured to promote governance by consensus and facilitate up-or-down votes on bills that have strong bipartisan support. Under the current procedural landscape, a small handful of extreme members on the Rules Committee or in the House Republican conference can prevent common-sense legislation from ever seeing the light of day. That must change — perhaps in a manner consistent with bipartisan recommendations from the House Select Committee on the Modernization of Congress.

Maybe simply threatening such a thing could get Republicans to unite around somebody like Scalise and not shut down the government. (If Scalise did shut it down, that motion-to-vacate trick would work just as well for Lawler as it did for Gaetz.)

I don’t expect this to happen any time soon, because Republican moderates are invariably spineless. But nothing prevents it.

And if the House’s leadership vacuum stretches into November, and if the government shuts down while Biden and Schumer are still waiting to find out who they should be negotiating with, the boundaries of plausibility might shift.

Sherlock Holmes, a fictional detective looking backward to figure out what did happen, famously observed: “When you have eliminated all which is impossible then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” Something similar should hold looking forward: When you eliminate all the scenarios that can’t happen, one of the options remaining, however implausible, must be what will happen.


[1] One theory that explains MAGA faction’s inability to formulate coherent goals during the debt-limit and shutdown negotiations is sabotage. In other words, shutting down the government isn’t a threat, it’s a goal. The analogy would be to a kidnapper who wants to kill the hostage, and so makes shifting and impossible demands.

You might wonder why MAGA Republicans would want to cause a shutdown, but the answer is pretty simple: The Biden economy has been remarkably good, especially considering the Covid disruption he inherited from Trump. Unemployment continues to be quite low, and wage increases have begun to outrun inflation. The unemployment rate has been under 4% for 21 of the last 22 months, compared to 20 months for the entire Trump administration. When Biden took office, unemployment was at 6.3%.

The rising-real-wages phenomenon is recent, though, so the public has barely noticed and isn’t giving Biden the credit he deserves. If a lengthy government shutdown starts a recession, he never will get credit.

That explains why Trump has been pounding the drum so hard for a shutdown:

The Republicans lost big on Debt Ceiling, got NOTHING, and now are worried that they will be BLAMED for the Budget Shutdown. Wrong!!! Whoever is President will be blamed. … UNLESS YOU GET EVERYTHING, SHUT IT DOWN!

[2] The rule suggests an in-between possibility: electing a speaker pro tem rather than taking one off a list. The pro-tem’s term might only last until a new speaker is elected, but having been elected might allow him to claim the full powers of a speaker.

[3] Politically, a government shutdown usually hurts the party that seems to be causing it, which is usually the Republicans. But this one would be even worse than the others, because it wouldn’t have any principled justification. Republicans wouldn’t be shutting down the government to cut spending or limit abortions or even hand Ukraine to their buddy Putin; they’d be shutting down the government out of sheer incompetence, because they couldn’t get their act together to elect a speaker. I can’t imagine the public taking that well.

[4] To understand what Democrats were thinking when they let McCarthy go down, here’s a tweetstorm from Democratic staffer Aaron Fritschner.

Fritschner gives McCarthy no credit for the continuing resolution that temporarily resolved the shutdown issue: McCarthy knew he needed Democratic votes to pass the CR, but sprung his proposal on them suddenly with no time to read it. Democrats manipulated the situation to get some time: Majority Leader Jeffries launched a time-wasting speech on the House floor, and Jamaal Bowman even pulled a fire alarm. Fritschner speculates that McCarthy hoped Democrats would vote his resolution down, allowing him to blame Democrats for the ensuing government shutdown.

People want us to give the guy credit for stopping a shutdown but it is still not clear to me right now sitting here writing this that he *intended* to do that.

And now that the House has until November 17, what could Democrats hope for from McCarthy?

And what is McCarthy signaling to us on funding? He’s going to steer us directly back into the crazy cuts and abortion restrictions, the Freedom Caucus setting the agenda, breaking his deal with Biden, and driving us towards a shutdown in November.

Ok we are reasonable people, maybe he’s just telling them what they have to hear and he’ll screw them at the last minute. So what’s he saying to us privately? What reason is he giving us to think any of this is going to turn out well if we help him? None.

The supposed “institutional interest” would have us not only put out Republicans’ many fires for them, it would have us do so based on our specific belief and trust that *McCarthy is lying*. Like, his lying is supposed to be a good thing, and what sells the arrangement for us.

It all called for too much trust in a guy who had (again and again) proven untrustworthy.

When should public officials resign?

When is it reasonable for an official (and his party) to hold on in the face of suspicion?


Last week, Senator Robert Menendez of New Jersey was indicted for bribery. He immediately resigned as chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee, as the bylaws of the Senate Democratic caucus mandate. Almost as quickly, big-name Democrats — like New Jersey Governor Phil Murphy — began calling for him to resign his seat in the Senate, which nothing in the rules requires him to do. Other Democrats, like Rep. Andy Kim, announced they would run against him (if necessary) in 2024.

As I noted last week, though, senators were slower to comment. John Fetterman of Pennsylvania appears to have been the first senator to call for Menendez’ resignation. But since then the floodgates have opened. At least 30 senators — all Democrats, including New Jersey’s other senator, Cory Booker — are asking him to resign.

The Constitution’s Article I, Section 5 allows the Senate to expel a member, but that requires a 2/3rds vote. And even if Democratic senators were willing to go that far, Republicans are unlikely to cooperate, because they would have to recognize that indictments — like Donald Trump’s indictments, say — are serious matters. So Menendez is not going to be expelled.

New Jersey’s constitution allows for the recall of federal officials, but no senator has ever been recalled, and it’s not even clear such laws are consistent with the US constitution. But 25% of New Jersey’s registered voters would have to sign a recall petition, and even if that Herculean goal could be achieved, it’s not obvious how much sooner the special election would be than the 2024 election when Menendez’s seat comes up anyway.

In practical terms, then, nobody is going to force Menendez to leave office early if he doesn’t want to go. So we’re left with the more abstract question: When should a public official resign or be removed?

The fundamental tug-of-war is between two principles: First, that an indictment is not a conviction. US law says that accused people are innocent until proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. If the question is whether he will go to jail, Menendez deserves his day in court just like anybody else.

But whether he should stay in the Senate is a different question. Public office is a privilege, not a right. If we’re debating whether someone should hold a position of power, maybe very-credible-suspicion is a high enough standard. Julius Caesar famously divorced his wife Pompeia after a scandal, even though he also held that she was innocent, saying “Caesar’s wife must be above suspicion.”

Maybe that’s the right principle here, too: If the citizens of New Jersey have good reason to doubt that their senator is serving their interests rather than the interests of whoever can bribe him, maybe he shouldn’t be a senator any more. Maybe they shouldn’t have to wait for a jury verdict or for his term to end naturally.

If you believe that, then someone like Menendez should resign. Arguably, so should Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas, who appears to have a long history of accepting expensive gifts from rich men who may or may not have specific cases before the Court, but who clearly want to influence the general direction the Court takes. And while Donald Trump currently holds no office (except in the imagination of the Qanon faithful), he also should step aside and let the GOP nominate someone not facing multiple felony indictments.

Obviously, Menendez, Thomas, Trump, and many others in recent history don’t see it that way. And while Democrats would like to be free of Menendez’ baggage, the great majority of Republicans are unwilling to ask their tainted leaders to step aside.

So why don’t more people do that? And to what extent is their reasoning justifiable?

The big reason to step aside, or to hope someone from your party steps aside, is that otherwise the individual’s battles take center stage and distract attention from the issues that person is supposed to be dealing with on behalf of the People.

To me, the only justifiable reason not to step aside is that you have already become individually important. That’s the case, for example, if your resignation means that you will be replaced by someone of the opposite party — possibly flipping control of some house of Congress or changing the partisan make-up of the Supreme Court. Such partisan considerations shouldn’t be absolute — at some point, people just have to go, whatever the consequences — but a change in the government’s partisan balance does raise the bar.

A second possible reason is if the charges against you really are the kind of “witch hunt” Trump is always talking about. If the same partisan machinery can target your replacement just as easily as it targets you, then you might as well stand and fight.

This is how I think these considerations apply to current cases: If Menendez leaves office, his replacement will be named by New Jersey’s Democratic Governor Murphy. So the seat will stay in the Democratic column. Further, I don’t know of anything that makes Menendez unique among Democrats. If, say, he were the lone crusader on some issue, I could see him wanting to stay on. But none of that is true, so he should go.

Clarence Thomas’ case is trickier, because President Biden would want to appoint someone far more liberal. At some point, though, even Republicans should want him gone, because defending his corruption taints their whole party. In a better-functioning political system, Mitch McConnell would go to President Biden and say, “We could support removing Thomas if you’d pledge to replace him with someone on this list.” Biden would push back with his own list, and eventually they’d come to an agreement.

What makes Donald Trump’s case special is that the Republican Party is dominated by his personality cult. So he is already personally unique. For many in the MAGA movement, politics amounts to Trump or not Trump, and is only tangentially connected to the issues that used to motivate the GOP, like taxes, abortion, national defense, or protecting businesses from government regulation. Agreeing to let Trump go is defeat in itself, not a strategic move that lets them fight on better ground.

So we can expect Trump to fight on until he is either decisively defeated or dies by natural causes. His cult will fight alongside him, independent of what crimes he has committed or what evidence is revealed. Individual Republicans need to decide whether they are part of that cult or not.

And finally, I’ll consider Joe Biden, who is facing an impeachment inquiry in the House. So far, though, that inquiry has revealed nothing of substance, and looks like a pure fishing expedition. It is not hard to imagine a similar quantity of Nothing being raised against Kamala Harris not long after Biden resigned.

So pending any substantive evidence of wrongdoing, Democrats should stick by Biden. In the unlikely event that something really convincing is found against him, though, I’d ask him to step aside, because Biden is not unique. Unlike the GOP, the Democratic Party is not a personality cult, and should respond to evidence.

MAGA and the Swifties

Attacks on Swift demonstrate a more general truth:
Conservatives actually don’t admire people who succeed
through talent and hard work.


I barely follow contemporary music, so I know little about Taylor Swift, beyond recognizing her picture and appreciating that she has a lot of fans. [1] During the summer, though, she was hard to ignore: Along with the Barbie movie, Swift’s Eras Tour was the big cultural event. Both were identity-affirming experiences for women that, as a man, I could only envy. [2]

Recently, though, she really caught my attention when MAGA-world decided to take on her fans, the Swifties. God knows what they were thinking. I always thought politics was about connecting with popular movements, not daring them to run over you.

The backstory is that early in her career Swift was resolutely non-partisan, to the point that many people speculated that she was a Republican. But in 2018 she decided to come out against Republican Senate candidate Marsha Blackburn. In this video (I think from a documentary about Swift) she’s telling her reluctant Dad why she needs to do this:

She votes against fair pay for women. She votes against the reauthorization of the Violence Against Women Act, which is just basically protecting us from domestic abuse and stalking. [Points to herself] — stalking! She thinks that if you’re a gay couple, or even if you look like a gay couple, you should be allowed to be kicked out of a restaurant. It’s really basic human rights, and it’s right and wrong at this point. And I can’t see another commercial and see her disguising these policies behind the words “Tennessee Christian values”. Those aren’t Tennessee Christian values. I live in Tennessee. I am a Christian. That’s not what we stand for.

Her father doesn’t argue with any of those points, but he worries that violent right-wingers will target her.

But recently Swift did something the ticked off MAGA-world even worse: She encouraged people to register to vote. And it worked.

On Tuesday morning, the singer posted a short message on Instagram encouraging her 272 million followers to register to vote. Afterward, the website she directed her fans to — the nonpartisan nonprofit Vote.org — recorded more than 35,000 registrations, according to the organization.

Not so long ago, encouraging people to vote was non-partisan, but that was before one major party turned against democracy. [3] Now Swift (and her new boyfriend, football star Travis Kelce) are being roundly denounced online. The august Federalist magazine took time from its regular projects of corrupting the Supreme Court and inciting panic about transfolk to label Swift’s popularity as “a sign of societal decline“. One of the magazine’s founders then got to the heart of the matter in a tweet:

Taylor Swift is dumb and her music sucks.

Here, I’d say: Go back and read her reasons for opposing Marsha Blackburn. Rather than dumb, she sounds pretty well informed. But “dumb” wasn’t insulting enough, so American Greatness writer Roger Kimball took it a step farther.

Also, she is homely.

As if none of the rest of us have eyes, and women like Swift should care whether Kimball finds them attractive. (Did I mention she’s dating a football star?) And famous “alpha male” Nick Adams retweeted what he thought was an apt comparison. [4]

Raise your daughters to be classy like Lauren Boebert, not trashy like Taylor Swift.

Salon’s Olivia Luppino pointed out what a pointless exercise this is:

This next-level success she has today she accomplished after navigating a polarized political climate. When she speaks up, people listen.

More importantly, there’s nothing the right could do that could meaningfully affect Swift. She has an incredibly devoted fanbase, a sold-out tour that lasts until November 2024, which again, is going to make her a billionaire, and maybe even has a hot new boyfriend. You can’t convince a Taylor Swift fan that she’s ugly or untalented, and these days, they seem to run the world.

And another Salon writer, Amanda Marcotte, hit back, claiming the anti-Swift venom comes from incels whose worship of established-in-court-sexual-assaulter Donald Trump has made them even less appealing to women.

GOP propagandists have learned that a great way to get their mostly male audiences fired up is to indulge their grievances about women these days. Modern chicks, the gripe goes, have been spoiled by feminism, and that’s why it’s so damn hard for a Trump voter to get a date. … Indeed, the irony of all this is that, in appealing to young men through grievance, the right is only making men’s problems worse. If you’re having trouble with the ladies, going MAGA intensifies your unlikeability. But isn’t that what cults always do? Sell their members “solutions” that actually compound their existing problems. 

Those are the kinds of points that other people are much bettered positioned to make than I am. But I do have one thing to add that I don’t think is getting enough attention: American conservatives often praise capitalism as a system where anybody who has talent and works hard can rise to the top. So in theory, they should love people who make that climb. In fact, though, they hate those people, especially the ones who remember where they came from and try to help other people rise too.

The heroes of conservatism are almost invariably folks who were born rich: Donald Trump, the Koch brothers, Elon Musk.

Have you ever wondered why conservatives demonstrate such hatred for “the Hollywood elite” and athletes who get political like Colin Kaepernick? That’s because entertainment and athletics are industries where poor and working class people can hit it big if they work hard and have talent. People like Stephen King or Ben Affleck or Eminem are villains, even though they are White men who have lived genuine Horatio Alger stories. And if you’re Black like LeBron James or female like Barbra Streisand, forget about it. You’ll never have the right to an opinion of your own.

Swift is not the best example here, because she was raised in the professional class and never had to wonder if she’d be able to afford college. But her parents didn’t have yacht-and-mansion money, like she does now. She had talent and worked hard, and it paid off for her. But she doesn’t support the billionaire class politically, so she should “stay in her lane“, just like LeBron should “shut up and dribble”.

The point of the Horatio Alger myth is to keep the masses content: We may not have much now, but we could someday. We should admire the billionaires because maybe, just maybe, we’ll be one ourselves someday.

But that fantasy is never supposed to come true. Conservatism is all about keeping the rich on top, not opening their ranks to admit climbers.


[1] This isn’t unusual for me. Back in the 70s, I remember being amazed that so many songs I recognized from the radio were all by the same artist — some guy named Elton John.

[2] Male identity is a tricky thing to affirm these days, and people who try are usually more embarrassing than inspiring.

[3] When I was reading the Washington Monthly article in that link before citing it, I unexpectedly discovered that it quotes me.

But the most prescient analysis of what has recently become more obvious came from Doug Muder back in 2014 in an article titled, “Not a Tea Party, a Confederate Party.”

[4] I have to insert a caution: There is a raging and unsettled debate over whether Nick Adams is a parody, based on the optimistic theory that no one can be that consistently clueless. But he has fans who appear to take him seriously, including Trump.

About the polls

Yes, I’d enjoy seeing polls showing Biden way ahead of Trump. But it’s too soon to worry about such things. There’s more than a year of campaigning still to come.


I haven’t wanted to write about the 2024 general election polls, because I don’t think they mean much at this stage, and they’re part of the horse-race framing that I think gets way too much attention in our politics. I mean: Why talk about democracy or climate change or abortion or Ukraine or the economy or the completely senseless government shutdown that will probably start next week — or even about the issues conservatives focus on like the border — when TV’s talking heads could be discussing who’s up and who’s down? Or they could talk about image problems like Biden’s age (but not Trump’s).

But anyway, polls have been getting so much attention in the news that I know you’re thinking about them. It’s hard not to: Just about all the polls show Biden and Trump tied, with one outlier giving Biden a 6% lead and another showing Trump up by 10%. The Trump-favoring polls get more headlines, because they amount to a man-bites-dog story: A guy under multiple indictments who could well spend the rest of his life in jail is the candidate some large number of Americans want as their president.

I know: It’s crazy. Trump lost in 2020 by seven million votes, and that was before he tried to break American democracy, before the justices he appointed to the Supreme Court took away American women’s reproductive rights, and before the summer of weather disasters proved to any reasonable person that climate change is real and serious. How can this race even be close?

The case for Biden. Biden, meanwhile, has been an excellent president. He succeeded in achieving a number of things Trump promised but never accomplished: getting us started rebuilding our roads and bridges and bringing manufacturing back to the US, just to name two. The process of withdrawing our troops from Afghanistan was ugly, but the end result is that we are out of Afghanistan — another thing Trump promised but never delivered.

Trump had left NATO in tatters, with our allies wondering if the US could be counted on to fulfill its treaty obligations. But under Biden’s leadership, NATO has proved resilient against Russian aggression in Ukraine.

After the Covid shutdowns, when governments paid people not to produce — a policy of both the Trump and Biden administrations — inflation has been an issue around the world. But even there, under Biden the US is doing better than comparable economies.

And Biden has accomplished all this without the constant drama of the Trump administration. No nasty tweets. No demeaning nicknames for his opponents. No statements implying that his critics deserve to die or inviting his supporters to get violent. In short: as president, Trump was a constant embarrassment to the United States of America. Biden is not.

Polls. But OK, the polls: Why isn’t this case for Biden resulting in a polling lead? The short answer is that I don’t know, and the news coverage about the polls isn’t helping me figure it out. I’ve seen countless interviews with people who supported Trump in 2020 explaining why they’re standing by him. But he lost in 2020. The only way he can win in 2024 is if people who didn’t vote for him have changed their minds. The news media ought to be searching out those people, but so far they’re not.

Meanwhile, MAGA politicians failed badly in 2022, losing states Trump needs to win back, like Pennsylvania and Georgia. And that trend has continued into 2023: a liberal won a state supreme court election in Wisconsin by a wide margin, and MAGA candidates have continued to lose special elections.

So why hasn’t that trend shown up in the Trump/Biden polls? I have two tentative answers: The first is that so far hardly anyone has been making the case against Trump. You would ordinarily expect the people running against him for the Republican nomination to make that case, but with the exception of Chris Christie, they’re really not.

I have two windows into the primary campaign: My local TV stations are from Boston, and cover much of southern New Hampshire, so if you’re running in the New Hampshire primary, your ads appear in Boston. Also, as a Michigan State graduate, I follow Big Ten football, which means I’ve watched a number of University of Iowa games on the Big Ten network. Those games always include a number of political ads.

So far I have not seen a single attack ad against Trump. Maybe if you do a YouTube search you can find one — I didn’t — but whatever candidate made it is not airing it much.

Meanwhile, Biden has been standing aside while the justice system prosecutes Trump’s crimes. So far, then, the case against Trump has not entered the 2024 campaign. That won’t last. Trump is a very vulnerable candidate, and when those attack ads get made, they will have an effect.

Age. The second thing affecting the polls is that so far, Biden’s age has become the “but her emails” story of 2024.

Yes, Trump may be a felon who tried to stay in power in spite of the voters, and yes, his happy talk at the outset of Covid may have gotten over 100K Americans killed unnecessarily, and yes, reelecting him might lead to the end of American democracy … but Biden is old.

There is almost nothing political reporters can’t turn into a story about Biden’s age. When his campaign rolled out a new wave of TV ads and public appearances, The New York Times described the initiative this way: “As Democratic Jitters Grow, Biden Campaign Tries to Showcase His Vigor.” The paper’s story Monday on Biden’s recent trip to Asia — which even Fox News described as an “all-nighter” — was nevertheless titled, “‘It Is Evening, Isn’t It?’ An 80-Year-Old President’s Whirlwind Trip.” The next day, The Wall Street Journal ran a story headlined, “Is Biden Too Old to Run Again? We Asked People Born on His Exact Birthday.” If he shows signs of aging, it makes the front page; if he doesn’t, it’s the occasion for a discussion of how he and his advisers are working to defuse the issue. 

And yes, Biden is three years older than Trump. But he is fit and takes care of himself, while Trump is fat, avoids exercise, and reportedly lives on junk food. [1] Which one do you think is more likely to run into health issues in the next five years? I’d say Trump.

When it comes to stamina, Trump was never a hard worker. He famously started his White House days at 11, and his schedules included lots of down time that he mostly spent watching TV and tweeting.

Cognitively, Biden tends to stumble over words, which he has done all his life. Trump meanders aimlessly, shifts every conversation to his hobby-horse grievances, produces word salads that mean nothing at all, and seems helpless to control his anger issues. If you don’t think Trump has declined, watch this video from the 2015 campaign: Russian spy Maria Butina asks him about Obama’s Russia sanctions, and Trump gives an answer that is both complex and coherent. When was the last time you saw him do anything like that?

Looking forward. So do I think those factors will continue to prop Trump up until the election? No, I don’t. Eventually, Trump attack ads will get made and aired. Having seen what happened in 2016, the public will object to the but-her-emails coverage of Biden’s age. (For now, we should all be adding comments calling out the most egregious articles.) As the campaign goes forward, it will be harder to maintain the myth of Biden’s senility. And as Trump goes to trial, the public will see that the charges against him are more than just politics.

And a year from now, when the fall campaign is really happening, voters will tune in. A lot of them will want to know what these candidates intend to do for them. Biden has a vision and a record of accomplishment. Trump does not. Ultimately, that’s going to count.


[1] A frequent topic of discussion on my social media feeds is whether pictures like this are “fat shaming” Trump, which is a no-no. But if we’re honestly talking about longevity issues, weight is relevant. And we have to use pictures, because Trump lies about the numbers.