GOP

What’s the one thing that every pundit and certified member of the Fourth Estate knows? Why, it’s that MAGA is finished.  How many stories have we been treated to about “the fracturing of MAGA?” NPR knows it, Politico intuited it, Salon bet on it and the New Republic salivated over it. “Trump’s MAGA Base Splits Dramatically,” that anti-Trump orifice recently crowed, “New Poll Shows Donald Trump’s support continues to drop.” Then of course there is the New York Times, which has predicted and rejoiced in the death of MAGA again and again. That is – that was – the narrative. What is the reality? Yesterday’s primaries tell a very different, in fact a contradictory story.

The Republican establishment is on the verge of extinction. Donald Trump’s first term wasn’t enough to kill it off: Trump came into office in 2017 with establishment figures such as Mitch McConnell and Paul Ryan leading the party in Congress, and Trump’s own vice president, Mike Pence, had been chosen for that role as a reassurance to the old guard. Trump made some efforts to staff his administration with outsiders, but the likes of Steve Bannon or the ill-fated Rex Tillerson were heavily outnumbered by Republicans who would have been just as happy – or a great deal happier – to serve in another Bush administration.  This time, though, things are very different.

The electoral risk to politicians involved in passing a dog's breakfast of a "big, beautiful bill" – and there have been too many of this century to count – is often overstated. Once bills this large and unwieldy are passed there are a litany of problems that emerge as Americans, dulled into frustration by the same old swamp, discover only too late which specific policies negatively affect their lives and businesses. But then there are also things they like about it too, and even measures that are initially unpopular find purchase. And I do mean purchase in both senses, as in literally bribing voters with their own money, as Barack Obama's Medicaid expansion did.

Donald Trump’s triumphal return to the White House is the end of more than just the Joe Biden era. Since Bill Clinton’s presidency, Democrats had adhered to a formula they thought unbeatable: They would be socially progressive, economically centrist and staunchly internationalist. Republicans, they thought, had staked their future on demographics that were in decline — whites and the most conservative Christians. Democrats were the party of twenty-first-century America, an ethnically diverse and more secular, or at least religiously liberal, land. What went wrong? When Trump won in 2016, Democrats dismissed it as a fluke.

Welcome to Thunderdome and Happy Halloween — where this scary, chaotic, insane election season is finally coming to a close. You can hear my take on where things stand here. Election Day should come as a moment of relief to finally have some resolution. Instead, many voters worried about what comes next resemble nothing so much as Douglas Adams’s infamous bowl of petunias, falling rapidly out of the sky: “Oh no, not again.”Why do they feel that way?

Welcome to Thunderdome. Liz Cheney is campaigning with Kamala Harris today in Wisconsin at Ripon, known as the birthplace of the Republican Party at the Little White Schoolhouse. It was there in 1854 at a church meeting that Whig and Free Soil Party members gathered to form a “great irresistible Northern party, organized on the single issue of the non-extension of slavery.” This was even then pretty aggressive language for the Episcopalian who called the meeting, but not for Horace Greeley, who publicized it to the nation. Whatever Liz Cheney says today about how important it is to elect Kamala Harris will no doubt equal the historical significance of that moment, at least according to Rachel Maddow.

Welcome to Thunderdome. Without fail, in every cycle, some media commentator will pen a ludicrous piece about why Republicans should want to lose. They follow a similar, all-too-familiar script: if the Democrat wins the presidency, they will be restrained by the power of the Congress and the Courts from advancing a truly radical agenda; historically, their victory will lead to a sizable midterm backlash setting up for a better election the next time around; and the sooner the GOP rids itself of the baggage at the top of the ticket, the sooner it can elevate younger rising stars who haven't been thoroughly villainized yet by the national media. This argument is bunk — and the author is usually not stupid enough to actually believe it themselves.

Welcome to Thunderdome. So after all that, the rumors of huge celebrity appearance or endorsements — Beyoncé! Taylor Swift!!! George W. Bush!? — what Democrats delivered in Chicago was a convention that just felt like a box-checking exercise. There were no huge surprises. There was no over-the-top Hollywoodland display. The biggest name to show up was Oprah. The parties were decidedly lackluster. The off-air logistics were a disaster. The mood was one of nervous energy, with many partisans content to sit in their seats looking at their phones for five hours while smart Democrats roaming the halls admitted that they were concerned things were about to get, as the Obamas said, tough.

Welcome to Thunderdome. The essential divide between Republican insiders on how to attack Kamala Harris is stuck, swinging back and forth between the question of inauthentic climber or authentic leftist. Is she an untrustworthy chameleon who was against fracking before she was for it? Or is she a San Francisco Democrat elitist who was the furthest senator to the left? When the George W. Bush re-elect had to tangle with John Kerry, they went the unreliable flip-flopper route — something Chris LaCivita is very familiar with as the then-media advisor to Swift Boat Veterans for Truth — to great success.

Welcome to Thunderdome. It is an incredible circumstance that we face today. Just a week ago, it seemed that Donald Trump was headed into the GOP convention with a degree of momentum, but also uncertainty as to his choice for the vice presidential slot and still some wavering Republicans who needed to be brought into his coalition. It seemed that Joe Biden, for as much as he had struggled through a series of meandering interviews and uneven public appearances, was going to survive the attempts to move on from his presidency on the Democratic ticket. And for all the unsteadiness of the race, most polling showed that Trump was only slightly ahead in swing states across the country, with a long ways to go until November.The past week has changed everything.

"The whole thing is fucked.” That’s how one former blue-state GOP official describes the current turmoil facing state Republican parties. Numerous reports have laid bare the financial struggles, leadership turnover and abject chaos that have ensnared the GOP’s state parties. State parties in Arizona and Pennsylvania, unable to make rent, have sold off their headquarters. There are active battles for control of the party in Michigan and Colorado. Arizona also recently pushed out its chairman and in Georgia the party chair stepped down. Meanwhile, multiple former state-party officials are under indictment in cases related to January 6.

Donald Trump’s 2024 strategy has been one of measured policy moderation: deprioritizing divisive issues and elevating those where he clearly has the lead. Now, in bringing that strategy to the GOP’s official platform, which is set to be unveiled later this month, the former president’s team is seeking to produce a succinct, less-heavy-handed document. This, in turn, has angered many in the conservative activist class, especially already-disgruntled pro-lifers.In a memo that circulated this Thursday, signed by Trump’s leading advisors Chris LaCivita and Susie Wiles, the case is made for why to shorten the platform — “our policy commitments to the American people [should be] clear, concise and easily digestible.

Welcome to Thunderdome. Donald Trump took to Washington today in a series of meetings with business leaders, House members and senators in what was clearly meant to be a rousing “yes I’m still in charge” play. But it was also a Trump who seemed nervous about his prospects, particularly as it relates to how the abortion issue will be a drag on him in November: Abortion has emerged as Democrats’ most potent political weapon in the two years since Roe v. Wade was overturned, a reality the former president acknowledged during a closed-door Capitol Hill meeting.

One of the two Johns — John Cornyn and John Thune — is in all likelihood going to be the next leader of the Senate. One may potentially, based on the very favorable map for Republicans this cycle, may be the next majority leader. It’s a massive trade in power, away from the long-tenured Mitch McConnell and his diaspora of consultants and groups, and into the new hands of different Senate staffers and teams. But one thing that Cornyn and Thune represent is not just a generational shift, but a shift in the nature of the leadership and what they represent. Cornyn and Thune were both recruited in 2004 by Karl Rove as part of the effort by George W. Bush to take the Senate.