Thursday, October 17, 2024
This Election Challenges the Fundamental Decency of America
When I was a young boy, my father adorned the back of our Dodge Coronet 440 station wagon with bumper stickers. Proud to Be An American, one read, a manifestation of a simple truth: Both of my parents deeply loved America, and they transmitted that love to their four children.
In high school, I defended America in my social-studies classes. I wrote a paper defending America’s support for the South Vietnamese in the war that had recently ended in defeat. My teacher, a critic of the war, wasn’t impressed.
At the University of Washington, I applied for a scholarship or award of some kind. I don’t recall the specifics, but I do recall meeting with two professors who were not happy that, in a paper I’d written, I had taken the side of the United States in the Cold War. Their view was that the United States and the Soviet Union were much closer to moral equivalents than I believed then, or now. It was a contentious meeting.
As a young conservative who worked in the Reagan administration, I was inspired by President Ronald Reagan’s portrayal of America—borrowed from the Puritan John Winthrop—as shining “city upon a hill.” Reagan mythologized America, but the myth was built on what we believed was a core truth.
I find this moment particularly painful and disorienting. I have had strong rooting interests in Republican presidential candidates who have won and those who have lost, including some for whom I have great personal admiration and on whose campaigns I worked. But no election prior to the Trump era, regardless of the outcome, ever caused me to question the fundamental decency of America. I have felt that my fellow citizens have made flawed judgements at certain times. Those moments left me disappointed, but no choice they made was remotely inexplicable or morally indefensible.
The nominee for the Republican Party, Donald Trump, is a squalid figure, and the squalor is not subtle. His vileness, his lawlessness, and his malevolence are undisguised. At this point, it is reasonable to conclude that those qualities are a central part of Trump’s appeal to many of the roughly 75 million people who will vote for him in three weeks. They revel in his vices; they are vivified by them.
Trump may lose the election, and by that loss America may escape the horrifying fate of another term. But we have to acknowledge this, too: The man whom the former chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff called “fascist to the core” and “the most dangerous person to this country” is in a razor-thin contest against Kamala Harris, a woman who, whether you agree with her or not, is well within the normal boundaries of American politics. If he loses, he will not concede. Trump will instead attempt to tear the country apart. He can count on the near-total support of his party, and the majority of the white evangelical world. They will once again rally to his side, in the name of Jesus.
This should leave the rest of us shaken. Not because America, despite being an exceptional nation, has ever been perfect, or close to perfect. Americans have experienced slavery and segregation, the Trail of Tears and the internment of Japanese Americans, McCarthyism and My Lai, the Johnson-Reed Act and the beating and torture of the suffragists, the Lavender Scare, and the horrors of child labor. But what makes this moment different, and unusually dangerous, is that we have never before had a president who is sociopathic; who relishes cruelty and encourages political violence; who refers to his political opponents as “vermin,” echoing the rhetoric of 20th-century fascists; who resorts to crimes to overturn elections, who admires dictators and thrives on stoking hate. Trump has never been well, but he has never been this unwell. The prospect of his again possessing the enormous power of the presidency, this time with far fewer restraints, is frightening.
Jonathan Rauch, a contributor to The Atlantic, recently reminded me that the Founders warned us about such a scenario. They knew this could happen, he said, and they gave us multiple safeguards. Those safeguards are in danger of failing. “My faith in democracy is breaking,” he told me. “Part of me is breaking with it.” Americans have three weeks to keep the break from happening.
Abraham Lincoln, during the Civil War, in his annual message to Congress, told Americans that “we here hold the power, and bear the responsibility.” What was at stake was emancipation, of course, but also “honor or dishonor.”
“We shall nobly save, or meanly lose, the last best hope of earth” is how Lincoln concluded his remarks.
If Donald Trump wins the election, those of us who grew up loving America won’t stop loving her. But it will be a love tinged with profound disappointment and concern, almost to the point of disbelief. It is one thing, and quite a disturbing thing, for Trump’s soul to represent the soul of his party. It is quite another, given all we know, for him to represent, as president, the soul of his country. It would be an act of self-desecration.
We’re not there yet. Ours is still a republic, if we can keep it.
Wednesday, October 16, 2024
Trump Has Become Unmoored in His Mind and Time
Donald Trump’s rallies and public appearances have never been resounding examples of coherence and policy know-how. But even by his standards, things have gone off the rails a lot recently.
Perhaps most striking was a bizarre town hall Monday night in Pennsylvania where Trump, after two people in the crowd had brief medical emergencies, suddenly decided to forgo further questions. He then stood onstage for 39 minutes swaying and dancing while a series of songs played.
The scene came as Trump’s increasingly rambling performances and failure to summon and pronounce words have highlighted questions about his age and mental acuity — the same issues that effectively ended President Joe Biden’s 2024 campaign just three months ago. Vice President Kamala Harris’s campaign quickly seized on the events Monday, quipping of Trump, “Hope he’s okay.” It has also pushed for the release of more Trump medical records.
Indeed, over 200 doctors have joined together to call for the release of Donald Trump's medical records as they grow concerned by Trump's signs of mental decline and further regression into his own alternate reality. While Trump calls his rambling and disjointed campaign speeches as "the weave" they are in truth incoherent ramblings that confuse people and events. Moreover, at times it seems that Trump doesn't know what year it is and his rambling verbal diarrhea seems stuck in the 1980's or 1990's - just like one sees in the elderly undergoing mental decline. The MAGA base, of course, could care less about Trump's seemingly worsening dementia - all that matters is that he attacks and belittles those hated by the MAGA base and that he continues to stroke the base's sense of never ending grievance and normalizes racism and other forms of bigotry. A column in the New York Times looks at Trump's worrisome Behavior:
Do you remember the California electricity crisis of 2000 and ’01? I do, because I wrote about it a lot at the time and stuck my neck out by arguing, based on circumstantial evidence, that market manipulation was probably an important factor. One economist colleague accused me of “going Naderite,” but we eventually got direct evidence of market manipulation: tapes of Enron traders conspiring with power company officials to create artificial shortages to drive up prices.
At this point, however, it’s all old history; aside from some blackouts during a 2020 heat wave, California hasn’t had major electricity shortages in decades.
But don’t tell Donald Trump. On Thursday, in the course of a rambling, at times incoherent speech to the Detroit Economic Club, he declared, “We don’t have electricity. In California, you have brownouts or blackouts every week. . . . . This isn’t true, it wasn’t true when he made similar assertions last year, and 39 million Californians can tell you that it isn’t true. But in Trump’s mind, apparently, that long-ago electricity crisis never ended.
There’s an obvious parallel with Trump’s language on crime. In big cities, he has asserted, “You can’t walk across the street to get a loaf of bread. You get shot. You get mugged. You get raped. You get whatever it may be.”
Now, there was a time when America’s big cities were quite dangerous. . . . . But that was long ago. There was a huge decline in the national murder rate between the early 1990s and the mid-2010s; a surge during Trump’s last year in office seems to be fading away. New York’s transformation into one of the safest places in America has been especially spectacular: The city had 83 percent fewer murders last year than it did in 1990 . . . .
No doubt much of what Trump says about crime is a cynical attempt to stir up fear for political gain. That’s certainly true of some of his other untrue assertions, like his false claims that the Biden administration is refusing to aid Republican regions devastated by hurricanes and has diverted disaster funding to migrants. . . . . I’m fairly sure that he doesn’t care whether what he’s saying is true.
But it’s hard to escape the sense that there’s more than cynical calculation going on in some of Trump’s whoppers, that he may actually believe some of what he’s saying because he has become unmoored in time.
Electricity supply and urban crime aren’t the only issues on which Trump’s image of America seems stuck in the past. During his Detroit speech, the former president did something unusual for a candidate one might have expected to flatter the voters in an important swing state: He insulted the city that was hosting him, declaring that if Kamala Harris wins, “Our whole country will end up being like Detroit.” . . . . Actually, that would be great if true: Detroit has been experiencing a major economic revival, so much so that it has become a role model for struggling cities around the world and has been praised for its startup ecosystem. But I doubt that Trump knows or cares about any of that . . . .
The point is that there’s a pattern here. As many observers have noted, Trump routinely peddles a grim picture of America that has little to do with reality. What I haven’t seen noted as much is that his imaginary dystopia seems to be, in large part, a pastiche assembled from past episodes of dysfunction. These episodes apparently became lodged in his brain, and perhaps because he’s someone who is not known for being interested in the details and who lives in a bubble of wealth and privilege, they never left.
The thing is, Trump is fond of denigrating his opponents’ cognitive capacity. He has called Harris “mentally disabled” and a “dummy.” He has called for CBS to lose its broadcasting rights over a “60 Minutes” interview with her — one that was edited in a routine way — in which Harris, a former prosecutor, came across as, well, pretty smart, whatever you may think of her policies.
But what would Trump say about an opponent who, like him, seems stuck in the past, who routinely describes America in ways that suggest that he doesn’t know what year it is?
Tuesday, October 15, 2024
Monday, October 14, 2024
The Lunatic and Dangerous Lies of the Political Right
The truth is, it’s getting harder to describe the extent to which a meaningful percentage of Americans have dissociated from reality. As Hurricane Milton churned across the Gulf of Mexico last night, I saw an onslaught of outright conspiracy theorizing and utter nonsense racking up millions of views across the internet. The posts would be laughable if they weren’t taken by many people as gospel. Among them: Infowars’ Alex Jones, who claimed that Hurricanes Milton and Helene were “weather weapons” unleashed on the East Coast by the U.S. government, and “truth seeker” accounts on X that posted photos of condensation trails in the sky to baselessly allege that the government was “spraying Florida ahead of Hurricane Milton” in order to ensure maximum rainfall, “just like they did over Asheville!”
As Milton made landfall, causing a series of tornados, a verified account on X reposted a TikTok video of a massive funnel cloud with the caption “WHAT IS HAPPENING TO FLORIDA?!” The clip, which was eventually removed but had been viewed 662,000 times as of yesterday evening, turned out to be from a video of a CGI tornado that was originally published months ago. Scrolling through these platforms, watching them fill with false information, harebrained theories, and doctored images—all while panicked residents boarded up their houses, struggled to evacuate, and prayed that their worldly possessions wouldn’t be obliterated overnight—offered a portrait of American discourse almost too bleak to reckon with head-on.
Even in a decade marred by online grifters, shameless politicians, and an alternative right-wing-media complex pushing anti-science fringe theories, the events of the past few weeks stand out for their depravity and nihilism. As two catastrophic storms upended American cities, a patchwork network of influencers and fake-news peddlers have done their best to sow distrust, stoke resentment, and interfere with relief efforts. But this is more than just a misinformation crisis. To watch as real information is overwhelmed by crank theories and public servants battle death threats is to confront two alarming facts: first, that a durable ecosystem exists to ensconce citizens in an alternate reality, and second, that the people consuming and amplifying those lies are not helpless dupes but willing participants.
Some of the lies and obfuscation are politically motivated, such as the claim that FEMA is offering only $750 in total to hurricane victims who have lost their home. (In reality, FEMA offers $750 as immediate “Serious Needs Assistance” to help people get basic supplies such as food and water.) Donald Trump, J. D. Vance, and Fox News have all repeated that lie. Trump also posted (and later deleted) on Truth Social that FEMA money was given to undocumented migrants, which is untrue.
Elon Musk, who owns X, claimed—without evidence—that FEMA was “actively blocking shipments and seizing goods and services locally and locking them away to state they are their own. It’s very real and scary how much they have taken control to stop people helping.” That post has been viewed more than 40 million times.
The result of this fearmongering is what you might expect. Angry, embittered citizens have been harassing government officials in North Carolina, as well as FEMA employees. According to an analysis by the Institute for Strategic Dialogue, an extremism-research group, “Falsehoods around hurricane response have spawned credible threats and incitement to violence directed at the federal government,” including “calls to send militias to face down FEMA.” The study also found that 30 percent of the X posts analyzed by ISD “contained overt anti-Semitic hate . . .
Online, first responders are pleading with residents, asking for their help to combat the flood of lies and conspiracy theories. FEMA Administrator Deanne Criswell said that the volume of misinformation could hamper relief efforts. “If it creates so much fear that my staff doesn’t want to go out in the field, then we’re not going to be in a position where we can help people,” she said in a news conference on Tuesday.
It is difficult to capture the nihilism of the current moment. The pandemic saw Americans, distrustful of authority, trying to discredit effective vaccines, spreading conspiracy theories, and attacking public-health officials. But what feels novel in the aftermath of this month’s hurricanes is how the people doing the lying aren’t even trying to hide the provenance of their bullshit. Similarly, those sharing the lies are happy to admit that they do not care whether what they’re pushing is real or not.
This has all been building for more than a decade. On The Colbert Report, back in 2005, Stephen Colbert coined the word truthiness, which he defined as “the belief in what you feel to be true rather than what the facts will support.” This reality-fracturing is the result of an information ecosystem that is dominated by platforms that offer financial and attentional incentives to lie and enrage, and to turn every tragedy and large event into a shameless content-creation opportunity. This collides with a swath of people who would rather live in an alternate reality built on distrust and grievance than change their fundamental beliefs about the world..
[T]he vast majority of misinformation is offered as a service for people to maintain their beliefs in face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary.” This distinction is important, in part because it assigns agency to those who consume and share obviously fake information.
What we’re witnessing online during and in the aftermath of these hurricanes is a group of people desperate to protect the dark, fictitious world they’ve built. Rather than deal with the realities of a warming planet hurling once-in-a-generation storms at them every few weeks, they’d rather malign and threaten meteorologists, who, in their minds, are “nothing but a trained subversive liar programmed to spew stupid shit to support the global warming bullshit,” as one X user put it. It is a strategy designed to silence voices of reason, because those voices threaten to expose the cracks in their current worldview.
What is clear is that a new framework is needed to describe this fracturing. Misinformation is too technical, too freighted, and, after almost a decade of Trump, too political. Nor does it explain what is really happening, which is nothing less than a cultural assault on any person or institution that operates in reality. . . . . people who cannot abide by the agonizing constraints of reality, as well as those who have financial and political interests in keeping up the charade.
In one sense, these attacks—and their increased desperation—make sense. The world feels dark; for many people, it’s tempting to meet that with a retreat into the delusion that they’ve got everything figured out, that the powers that be have conspired against them directly. But in turning away, they exacerbate a crisis that has characterized the Trump era, one that will reverberate to Election Day and beyond. Americans are divided not just by political beliefs but by whether they believe in a shared reality—or desire one at all.
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