There’s a good piece in the Post today by Philip Bump making an important corrective point which is that, no, we shouldn’t assume that millions of people going out and protesting against Donald Trump is actually great news for Donald Trump. The issue is sort of over-learning the fairly questionable lesson of the George Floyd protests, thinking that they somehow redounded to Trump’s benefit. As Bump notes, there’s pretty little evidence that this is true. At least in the short- to medium-term most evidence suggests the opposite.
Not the biggest thing in the world. But it caught my attention. The Trump family is rolling out something called Trump Mobile, which is basically a mobile phone service for real Americans.
On Saturday, watching the President’s birthday celebration/Army parade, I commented that it seemed like it was going so poorly and Trump seemed so grumbly that I was afraid he might occupy a few more cities with the tantrum he was going to throw as a result. Of course, “going poorly” can mean a lot of different things. I didn’t watch a lot of the parade. But the moments I did catch gave me some reason for confidence in the durability of the America I know. The soldiers manning the tanks trundling down the city streets were all smiles, waving at the admittedly sparse crowd, saying “hi” to kids. I don’t think that’s the kind of parade Trump wanted. That’s not what a strongman’s military parade looks like. The soldiers are impassive. Their eyes are fixed on El Jefe. This wasn’t that.
In recent days, I’ve seen a number of comments or editorials which focus on a dichotomy between reacting to the crisis of the moment (which is portrayed as the ICE raids, military deployments and general attacks on democracy) and focusing on issues like Medicaid (which is portrayed as politics-as-usual and an inability to recognize a national crisis). I agree with the sentiment behind this, but it’s wrongheaded and I want to explain why.
For those who are attending “No Kings” events today in your areas, I encourage you to send photographs. They don’t need to be striking or unique. We’re just looking for what you’re seeing.
I of course know about the assassination and attack overnight in Minneapolis in which Rep. Melissa Hortman (D) and her spouse were killed.
My wording in this title is one part provocation. But there is a serious point to it.
American political debates use the term “elite” in a fairly impoverished way. Its use is pejorative rather than descriptive. The elites are the bad guys. And the good elites aren’t actually elites. We’re all familiar with this and perhaps it’s inevitable in a political culture so rooted in the imagery and ideology, if not always the reality, of popular rule and the power and valorization of the ordinary American.
But the elite, in a more descriptive and non-evaluative sense, has been perhaps the biggest reveal of this live subject experiment we’ve been a part of since late January. Law firms, universities, big business, news publications and a million other examples. We’ve all been amazed, disheartened, aghast, whatever you want to call it, by the subservience of the prominent and the powerful. Even those who haven’t adopted a posture of subservience have generally adopted one of silence. I hear it from reporter after reporter. The kind of people they used to go to for quotes — a lot of those people don’t want to give them anymore. And, beyond moral evaluation, we know why: they have things on the line. A rogue President has vast untapped and illegal or unconstitutional but still usable power to come after really anyone who puts their head up. The challenges to Trump have much more been waged by ordinary Americans.
It took only hours after an allegedly Trump-supporting gunman shot multiple Democratic state lawmakers and their spouses for the right-wing misinformation machine to chug into action.
Senate Republicans are grappling with whether to swallow the cuts to Medicaid and clean energy incentives that are baked into House Republicans’ reconciliation package, which would effectively dismantle key parts of the last two Democratic presidents’ policy legacies.