Reading through the ambiguous to vaguely positive remarks made by Republican pols about the historic auto workers strike, one of them jumped off the page, and I wrote about it at New York:

One of the great anomalies of recent political history has been the disconnect between the Republican Party’s ancient legacy as the champion of corporate America and its current electoral base, which relies heavily on support from white working-class voters. The growing contradiction was first made a major topic of debate in the 2008 manifesto Grand New Party, in which youngish conservative intellectuals Ross Douthat and Reihan Salam argued that their party offered little in the way of material inducements (or even supportive rhetoric) to its emerging electoral base. Though Douthat and Salam were by no means fans of Donald Trump, the mogul’s stunningly successful 2016 campaign did follow their basic prescription of pursuing the economic and cultural instincts of white working-class voters at the expense of doctrinaire free-market and limited-government orthodoxy.

So it’s not surprising that Trump and an assortment of other Republicans have expressed varying degrees of sympathy for the unionized autoworkers who just launched a historic industry-wide strike for better wages and working conditions. But there was a conspicuous, even anachronistic exception among nationally prominent GOP politicians: South Carolina senator and presidential candidate Tim Scott. As NBC News reported:

“It’s the latest of several critical comments Scott has made about the autoworkers, even as other GOP presidential candidates steer clear of criticizing them amid a strike at three plants so far …

“’I think Ronald Reagan gave us a great example when federal employees decided they were going to strike. He said, you strike, you’re fired. Simple concept to me. To the extent that we can use that once again, absolutely.’”

Scott’s frank embrace of old-school union bashing wouldn’t have drawn much notice 40 or 50 years ago. And to be clear, other Republicans aren’t fans of the labor movement: For the most part, MAGA Republicans appeal to the working class via a mix of cultural conservatism, economic and foreign-policy nationalism, nativism, and producerism (i.e., pitting private-sector employers and employees against the financial sector, educational elites, and those dependent on public employment or assistance). One particularly rich lode of ostensibly pro-worker rhetoric has been to treat environmental activism as inimical to the economic growth and specific job opportunities wage earners need.

So unsurprisingly, Republican politicians who want to show some sympathy for the autoworkers have mostly focused on the alleged threat of climate-change regulations generally and electric vehicles specifically to the well-being of UAW members, as Politico reported:

“’This green agenda that is using taxpayer dollars to drive our automotive economy into electric vehicles is understandably causing great anxiety among UAW members,’ [Mike Pence] said on CNN’s “State of the Union.”

“Other Republicans followed suit, with a National Republican Senatorial Committee spokesperson calling out Michigan Democratic Rep. Elissa Slotkin — Democrats’ favored candidate for the state’s open Senate seat — for her Thursday vote allowing state-level limits or bans on gas-powered cars as choosing her ‘party over Michigan.'”

More strikingly, Trump, the 2024 presidential front-runner, is planning to hold an event with Michigan workers at the very moment his GOP rivals are holding their second debate next week, notes the Washington Post:

“While other Republican candidates participate in the Sept. 27 event in California, Trump instead plans to speak to more than 500 autoworkers, plumbers, electricians and pipe-fitters, the adviser said. The group is likely to include workers from the United Auto Workers union that is striking against the Big Three automakers in the country’s Rust Belt. The Trump adviser added that it is unclear whether the former president will visit the strike line.

“Trump’s campaign also created a radio ad, to run on sports- and rock-themed stations in Detroit and Toledo, meant to present him as being on the side of striking autoworkers, the adviser said.”

There’s no evidence Trump has any understanding of, much less sympathy with, the strikers’ actual demands. But in contrast to Scott’s remarks endorsing the dismissal of striking workers, it shows that at least some Republicans are willing (rhetorically, at least) to bite the hand that feeds in the pursuit of votes.

Meanwhile, the mainstream-media types who often treat Scott as some sort of sunny, optimistic, even bipartisan breath of fresh air should pay some attention to his attitude toward workers exercising long-established labor rights he apparently would love to discard. Yes, as a self-styled champion of using taxpayer dollars to subsidize private- and homeschooling at the expense of “government schools,” Scott is constantly attacking teachers unions, just like many Republicans who draw a sharp distinction between public-sector unions (BAD!) and private-sector unions (grudgingly acceptable). But autoworkers are firmly in the private sector. Maybe it’s a South Carolina thing: Scott’s presidential rival and past political ally Nikki Haley (another media favorite with an unmerited reputation as a moderate) famously told corporate investors to stay out of her state if they intended to tolerate unions in their workplaces. For that matter, the South Carolina Republican Party was for years pretty much a wholly owned subsidiary of violently anti-union textile barons. Some old habits die hard.

One of the useful by-products of the current wave of labor activism in this country is that Republicans may be forced to extend their alleged sympathy for workers into support for policies that actually help them and don’t simply reflect cheap reactionary demagoguery aimed at foreigners, immigrants, and people of color. But Scott has flunked the most basic test threshold compatibility with the rights and interests of the working class.

 

Now and then some of my Democratic and independent friends get enchanted with a Republican pol who seems to be standing up to the MAGA folk. There are a few, but there are also those who invariably try to have it both ways, and I wrote about one at New York:

Campaigning at the Iowa State Fair recently, 2024 presidential candidate Nikki Haley sported a T-shirt with the legend “Underestimate Me … That’ll Be Fun.”

As a longtime critic of her record and the relentless self-promotion that has obscured it, I wouldn’t for a moment underestimate Haley. She has world-class political skills and an instinct for the main chance that has served her well — it dates back at least to the 2010 gubernatorial campaign in which this Mark Sanford and Sarah Palin protégée exploited nasty smears accusing her of sexual infidelity to transform herself into the victim and vanquisher of the ex-Democratic “good old boys” who had dominated the state GOP for years. Similarly, in 2015 she got massive favorable press around the world for taking down a Confederate flag at the statehouse after a white-supremacist massacre at a Charleston church made such a step no longer controversial (a previous Republican governor had proposed taking down the flag 20 years earlier). She has managed to make that “courageous” stand the only thing that national political observers remember about her governorship, instead of more characteristic moments such as her rejection of any corporate investment in her state that might involve “union jobs.”

More recently, her virtuoso efforts to pose as both a loyal friend of Donald Trump and the symbol of a post-Trump Republican Party infuriated New York Times columnist Frank Bruni into calling her out: “Past Haley, present Haley, future Haley: They’re all constructs, all creations, malleable, negotiable, tethered not to dependable principle but to reliable opportunism.”

Bruni was enraged by Haley’s characteristically crafty performance in the first Republican debate last week, which showed, in his mind, what the candidate could represent if she flatly repudiated Trump and the MAGA creed. Indeed, she attacked Trump’s presidential record from the right (criticizing him for signing the then–wildly popular CARES Act), called him unelectable, and savagely took down Trump mini-me Vivek Ramaswamy’s Trump-adjacent foreign-policy views. But in a moment of truth, she raised her hand when the candidates were asked if they would support Trump as the presidential nominee even if he becomes a convicted felon.

The debate also gave Haley the chance to rehearse her latest rap on abortion policy, which has been getting rave reviews from those across the ideological spectrum (including Bruni) who don’t seem to understand that her “reasonable” approach simply means recognizing that Republicans don’t have the Senate votes to impose the national ban she would eagerly sign. As abortion-rights advocate Jessica Valenti explains, Haley is again confecting a “moderate” image out of thin air:

“Haley … tried to position herself as moderate on abortion by repeating something she’s said multiple times on the campaign trail: ‘Can’t we all agree that contraception should be available? And can’t we all agree that we are not going to put a woman in jail or give her the death penalty if she gets an abortion?’

“It’s a scary state of affairs when ‘I’ll allow you birth control and won’t kill you’ is something a candidate says to show they’re the reasonable one of the bunch …

“Just by virtue of not being yet another man saying a stupid thing about women’s bodies, she’s ahead of the game. But despite all the sweet ‘pro-woman’ messaging, Haley’s policies are no different than any of those men’s. She just hides it better.”

The question now, though, is whether this supreme opportunist has created a real opportunity for herself as a viable presidential candidate who will perhaps replace the ever-struggling Ron DeSantis as the defender of and rival to Trump with the best chance to emerge if the 45th president’s campaign somehow collapses.

Haley has gotten reams of publicity (most of it favorable) for her debate performance; she especially outperformed her fellow South Carolinian Tim Scott, who had previously been the back-of-the-pack candidate to watch. And now, a leading pollster for Trump has let it be known in a deafening stage whisper heard by Axios that Haley is “surging” in the early states:

“Trump pollster Tony Fabrizio is telling Republican donors that Nikki Haley ‘has surged’ in Iowa since last week’s GOP presidential debate — and that she and Vivek Ramaswamy are essentially tied with Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis in New Hampshire, according to a polling memo obtained by Axios.”

Lo and behold, another pollster, working for the DeSantis campaign, has also leaked private polling results showing Haley gaining ground in Iowa but not at the expense of DeSantis, who is surging even more.

Both of these polls should be taken with a shaker of salt since Team Trump and Team DeSantis are strictly focused on damaging each other, even if that means temporarily showing progress by a third candidate (in this case, not one who was doing very well prior to the debate). In public polling, Haley is at 4.9 percent (and fourth place) in the national RealClearPolitics averages; she’s at 4.6 percent (and fifth) in Iowa and 3.8 percent (and seventh) in New Hampshire. And it’s important to note that a lot of those who loved Haley’s debate performance won’t be in a position to vote for her in the primaries. As the Washington Post reported, its postdebate polling showed that, among Republicans, the “winner” was DeSantis at 29 percent, closely followed by Haley’s punching bag, Ramaswamy, at 26 percent, and with only 15 percent thinking she was the star.

So unless Haley is enjoying a boom that has yet to fully appear, she needs more breaks to become a viable candidate, and that’s assuming anyone is truly viable against Trump. If she does become a threat to the top two candidates, they’ll probably stop ignoring her, and, particularly if Trump begins eyeing her with malice, her careful dance at the periphery of MAGA-land may become much more difficult. Displacing Chris Christie as the most prominent anti-Trump candidate is not a recipe for success. But if she leans back into her periodic loyalty to the former president, she could fall prey to the irrepressible suspicion that she’s really running for the vice-presidency, a suggestion she has contemptuously dismissed without ruling it out. You do have to wonder if Haley’s frequent predictions that Kamala Harris would soon become president if Joe Biden wins in 2024 involve an element of projection. Becoming president without having to win a presidential nomination is every political opportunist’s dream.

Whenever a major political figure mangles history, I’m there to fight back, as I did this week at New York when Vivek Ramaswamy said some very strange things:

In the first Republican presidential debate, Nikki Haley got in a good jab at Vivek Ramaswamy, the tech tyro who was presenting his strange views on world affairs: “You have no foreign-policy experience, and it shows.” Never mind that Haley’s foreign-policy experience as Donald Trump’s mouthpiece at the United Nations hardly makes her Henry Kissinger. She’s right about Ramaswamy. His erratic suggestions for selling out Ukraine and Taiwan as part of some Risk-style geopolitical maneuver have now been revealed as reflecting a factually undernourished version of U.S. foreign policy that the candidate explained in a manifesto at The American Conservative.

It’s no surprise that Ramaswamy brands his proposed “doctrine” as president with the MAGA (and pre-Pearl Harbor isolationist) battle cry of “America First.” It also figures that he’d trace his hostility to “entangling alliances” back to George Washington, who famously warned against such invitations to the dominant European powers of his era to send wooden warships across the Atlantic (a relatively low threat today). I’d also give the boy wonder credit for touting the Monroe Doctrine as providing a loophole by which even enemies of U.S. troop deployments in Europe or Asia can nonetheless rattle sabers at Mexico.

But the identity of Ramaswamy’s real foreign-policy hero was indeed a surprise: “Though I often pay tribute to George Washington, when it comes to foreign policy, the president I most admire is Richard Nixon.”

Ramaswamy is famously a millennial; he was born 11 years and one day after Nixon was forced from office in disgrace. And his judgement about modern Republican chief executives is reflected by his description of Trump in the aforementioned debate as “the best president of the 21st century.”

Still, Ramaswamy’s extended shout-out to the Tricky Dick is so weird that you wonder if he’s just trolling old boomers like me for whom Nixon represented a low point in the presidency and a threat to democracy exceeded only by you-know-who. Here’s what he says about the 37th president (the only one to resign):

“Against the chaotic backdrop of the 1960s, where battles over ideas spilled into the streets, Nixon asserted a cold and sober realism. He formulated peace in the Middle East, while maintaining only the lightest-possible military footprint there. … He got us out of Vietnam.”

In fact, the “cold and sober” realist Nixon’s approach to war and peace was encapsulated by his determination not to become “the first American president to lose a war.” He was coerced by Congress and public opinion to end the Vietnam War five years after he became president. Fully a third of U.S. casualties in Vietnam occurred on his watch. And while he did gradually shift ground-forces responsibilities to a South Vietnamese government he helped turn into a corrupt U.S. puppet regime, he escalated the U.S. air assault on North Vietnam and launched U.S. troops into Cambodia in an expansion of the war that destabilized that country and opened the door to the Khmer Rouge genocide.

As for the Middle East, the “lightest-possible military footprint” included unprecedented U.S. military assistance (at its time more dramatic than today’s U.S. assistance to Ukraine, which Ramaswamy opposes) and the only DEFCON alert (placing the U.S. nuclear arsenal on a war-readiness footing) between the Cuban Missile Crisis and 9/11.

Another egregious Ramaswamy offense to the Nixon legacy involves his claim that the old Cold Warrior despised sweeping ideological claims in foreign policy:

“In his day, many useful idiots populated the foreign-policy establishment, and he rejected their influence. Under Nixon’s leadership, the engines of state were turned from universalist language to, as he put it, driving local actors to take the “primary responsibility of providing the manpower for [their] defense.”

Actually Nixon’s own role model in foreign policy was the virtual inventor of liberal internationalism, Woodrow Wilson, as the University of Virginia’s Miller Center observes:

“Richard Nixon recognized the power of Wilson’s legacy when he returned Wilson’s desk to the Oval Office in 1969. Nixon saw himself as the president who would establish a new, Wilsonian world order of stability and collective security to replace the Cold War confrontations of the 1950s and 1960s.”

If Nixon shrank from direct U.S. responsibility for molding a world in America’s image, it was mostly because of domestic opposition and the profound unpopularity of troop deployments.

Now even if you don’t mind the many liberties Ramaswamy has taken with Nixon’s foreign-policy legacy, the question must be asked: What is the man thinking? He can call himself an outsider and entrepreneur all he wants; right now he is a politician playing the political game at the highest level. Of all the many figures in U.S. history he could cite as exemplifying the foreign-policy values he offers the country, why would he choose a man mostly known for amoral abuses of power and betraying his oath of office? Yes, Ramaswamy adores the president who makes Nixon look like a piker in this respect. But even Trump knows enough to choose a former president as his own foreign-policy exemplar whose sins are conveniently very distant from our own time, and who was known in his own time simply as “the Hero,” Andrew Jackson.

Even Richard Nixon’s admirers wouldn’t call him heroic, so we are left with the impression that Ramaswamy is being pointlessly provocative. After the Republican debate, Congresswoman Madeleine Dean quoted Succession character Logan Roy’s words to his squabbling children: “You are not serious people.” If Ramawamy wants to be thought of as a serious candidate for president, he’d best stop talking about foreign policy for a while.

The GOP presidential debate offered fresh evidence of that party’s total disarray on abortion, as I explained at New York:

One of the essential tasks of a political party chair is to spin like mad when your candidates say and do unfortunate things. That’s the only way I can interpret this upbeat comment from Republican National Committee chair Ronna McDaniel after the first Republican debate in Milwaukee:

“Republican National Committee Chair Ronna McDaniel said the discussion about abortion during Wednesday’s Republican debate was part of an important path forward for the party.

“’I was very pleased to see them talk about abortion,’ McDaniel told Fox News on Thursday morning. ‘Democrats used that in 2022 … If our candidates aren’t able to fend a response and put out a response, we’re not going to win. They’re going to do it again in 2024. And I thought all of them did a really good job on that.’”

The idea that Democrats were able to “use” the abortion issue in 2022 because Republicans wouldn’t talk about it is ludicrous. The vast majority of GOP politicians greeted the Supreme Court decision reversing Roe v. Wade with emotions ranging from unbridled joy to paternalistic satisfaction. In any event, Democratic gains attributable to abortion-rights sentiment were triggered not by talk but by the actions of Republican legislators and governors in red states across the country who rushed to ban abortions to the maximum extent allowed by state courts.

The even bigger problem with McDaniel’s claim that Republican jibber-jabber on abortion will help its candidates is that they manifestly aren’t in agreement about what should be done in the post-Roe era, and in the areas where they can find common ground, their position is unpopular.

In Milwaukee, several candidates were asked if they support a national abortion ban. This is, in fact, the most relevant abortion-policy question for those running for federal office, particularly since most major anti-abortion organizations (a key constituency in the GOP since at least 1980) support — nay, absolutely insist upon — such a ban as an urgent priority.

Ron DeSantis has managed somehow to avoid answering this question for many months, even as he signed a near-total abortion ban in his own state that he brags about in conservative religious circles on the campaign trail. That didn’t change in the debate. Instead of addressing a national ban, he went off on a lurid tangent involving an alleged survivor of live-birth abortions — an exceedingly rare phenomenon that anti-abortion activists cite incessantly as the omega point of largely fictional Democratic “abortion on demand” policies.

A less hammer-headed evasion was executed by Nikki Haley, who has made a “realistic” rap on the political infeasibility of a national abortion ban something of a signature. Haley argues that while a national ban might be great policy (albeit hellish for the women whose interests she claims to value and and even represent), there’s no point talking about it because it would face a Senate filibuster even if Republicans controlled the White House and Congress. As the Cut’s Andrea González-Ramírez observes, a Senate majority could exempt abortion policy from the filibuster just as it has exempted key presidential appointments and budget matters. But the idea of an immutable pro-choice filibuster is a convenient dodge for Haley, a career-long anti-abortion extremist who now poses as peacemaker and compromiser.

Haley’s “realism” aroused the ire of Mike Pence, for whom supporting a national ban is a “moral” commitment on which compromise is impossible. Likewise, Tim Scott raised the specter of all those babies being murdered in Democratic states like California and Illinois. But then Doug Burgum pointed out that Republicans (and, indeed, anti-abortion activists) for nearly half a century had claimed abortion policy should be decided by the states, a position he still holds.

Maybe Ronna McDaniel can explain to us which candidate response to basic questions about abortion policy is going to do the trick in eliminating the Democratic advantage on the subject. Unfortunately, the one thing all the candidates on the Milwaukee stage had in common is that not one of them acknowledges abortion as a basic reproductive right. That was the bedrock tenet of Roe v. Wade, and it’s why polls consistently show sizable majorities of Americans expressing opposition to the reversal of Roe. For that matter, as state ballot initiatives constantly show, upwards of a third of rank-and-file Republicans believe in a right to choose abortion. So opposing that position while fighting over (or evading) the question of what happens when abortion is no longer a right is not a good look for the GOP. Perhaps if Donald Trump had shown up in Milwaukee, he could have repeated his earlier claim that the party’s unpopular views on abortion — not reticence in articulating them — had lost Republicans the 2022 midterms. His preferred approach of campaigning on other issues and then going after fundamental rights when he has the power to do so is safer politically.

There are all kinds of scenarios you can read about late challenges to Donald Trump’s very likely Republican presidential nomination. I decided to rain on one such parade at New York:

Among the Republicans who are scheming to prevent Donald Trump’s third straight presidential nomination, there seems to be a notion that if the GOP presidential field him can be winnowed in Iowa and New Hampshire, some savior of the party will emerge and beat him in a one-on-one fight. The argument seems to go back to a highly debatable (I’d actually call it wrong) proposition: The large field of rivals was the crucial factor in enabling Trump to win his first nomination in 2016. But even if it were true that a smaller field could have vanquished Trump in 2016, he’s arguably a much stronger candidate right now than he was eight years ago. For example: He’s currently at 55.8 percent among Republican voters nationally in the RealClearPolitics polling averages. In 2016, he did not hit 50 percent in any national poll prior to nailing down the nomination in May.

Still, some say we should ignore the national polls and just focus on the early state races that could produce a Trump-vanquishing champion. That’s exactly what New Hampshire governor Chris Sununu argued Monday in a New York Times op-ed:

“The best indicator of Mr. Trump’s strength is looking to where the voters are paying attention: in states where candidates are campaigning, television ads are running, and there is a wide range of media attention on every candidate.

“In Iowa and New Hampshire, the first two states that will vote in the 2024 Republican primaries, Mr. Trump is struggling. In both Iowa and New Hampshire, he is consistently polling in the low 40 percent range. The floor of his support may be high, but his ceiling is low.”

I wouldn’t call a candidate who has a 26-point lead in Iowa (again, per the RCP averages) and a 30-point lead in New Hampshire one who is “struggling” in those two states. Sununu appears to assume anyone who is not for Trump now will never support him, which wasn’t true in 2016 (when he gained strength every time a rival dropped out) and isn’t much supported by the evidence of Trump’s high favorability numbers among Republicans today.

At some early point, if Trump keeps winning big, he’s going to become unbeatable. No Republican candidate who has won both Iowa and New Hampshire has ever been denied the presidential nomination. Will Trump be the first? It sure sounds like another of those Establishment Republican fantasies whereby Trump is regularly underestimated.

Indeed, the bigger question about the early states in 2024 is whether Trump will have nailed down the nomination before the field is small enough to give anyone a clean shot at the heavy front-runner. Several candidates (notably Chris Christie and Vivek Ramaswamy) are focusing mostly on New Hampshire; they aren’t going to drop out after an underwhelming performance in Iowa. Tim Scott and Nikki Haley are likely to hang onto their candidacies fanatically until their home state of South Carolina — the fourth state to vote — holds its primary in late February.

Even without the post-Iowa winnowing Sununu is counting on, it’s true there is a history of New Hampshire voters interrupting the premature victory celebrations of Iowa winners in both parties. Is it possible an Iowa win by Trump would be Pyrrhic, dooming his candidacy?

That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense once you examine the recent Republican candidates who have won Iowa and then quickly succumbed in New Hampshire and beyond. In 2008, 2012, and 2016, Iowa was won by Mike Huckabee, Rick Santorum, and Ted Cruz, respectively. Huckabee barely had two nickels to rub together; Santorum and Cruz upset national front-runners (Mitt Romney and Donald Trump) who came back to crush them in New Hampshire and later primaries. None of these doomed Iowa winners are in anything like the position Trump is in right now.

Anything’s possible in politics, and Trump’s legal troubles could in theory extend the contest for the nomination even if he’s winning initially (though so far those legal troubles seem to be helping him among Republicans). Candidates should definitely plan beyond the earliest states even if they are unlikely to be around for, say, Florida (where Trump and DeSantis could wage a dual home-turf battle) or Georgia (where Trump’s rivals are angling for an endorsement by Trump’s nemesis Brian Kemp).

But the odds say Trump’s rivals better beat him or at least give him a scare in Iowa, where it’s possible to punch above your weight with a superior ground game. It’s also a state the 45th president lost in 2016. If he romps there, he’s probably all but a lock for the nomination, barring crazy developments. And all those pleas to candidates to get out of the way of a fictional Trump-slayer will represent a waste of time and energy.

Since the latest Trump indictment dropped in my home state of Georgia, I offered some thoughts at New York about the Peach State being his nightmare jurisdiction:

There’s an old saying among southerners that “you can’t go to hell without going through Atlanta,” which is a reference to the many, many air passengers who have to transfer from plane to plane at Atlanta’s Jackson-Hartsfield Airport to reach their destinations. Donald Trump’s journey through criminal courtrooms near and far is taking him through Atlanta, too, we learned on August 14, as a Fulton County grand jury indicted the former president on a variety of charges stemming from the Georgia edition of his plot to overturn the results of the 2020 presidential election. And unless he gets very lucky, Trump’s legal experience in Atlanta will be as hellish as a layover headed nowhere, as the charges force him to relive some of his least favorite moments of the last three years.

Fulton County District Attorney Fani Willis, and likely the jurors called forth to judge Trump, can and will be demonized by Team Trump and his MAGA supporters as Democrats “weaponizing” the legal system to take down the 45th president before he can return triumphantly to the White House. But many of the key witnesses testifying to Trump’s criminality will be his fellow Republicans in a state that has defied his wishes again and again. Trump’s losing streak in the state began in 2020, when he lost the state narrowly to Joe Biden in an election result certified by Republican secretary of state Brad Raffensperger, who administered the election, and recertified by Republican governor Brian Kemp.

All Trump’s efforts to change that result represented challenges to his own party’s power structure in the state, which refused to back down on the conviction that it was an honest election honestly counted and duly confirmed before God and the federal government. Trump and his allies had to lie like madmen to keep Georgia’s electoral votes contested, and from the president on down, they ensnared themselves serially in fraudulent charges and felonious pressure campaigns, most notably in Trump’s own plea to Raffensperger to manufacture some votes for him. And while their high jinks from fake-elector schemes to made-up fraud incidents echoed what they were doing in other battleground states, it’s the solid phalanx of Republican statewide elected officials fighting the election coup that made Georgia special.

Trump’s humiliation in Georgia didn’t end with Raffensperger’s refusal to “find” him some votes or with the refusal of Georgia’s Republican legislature to certify fake electors. His obsession with his attempted election coup was widely blamed for the defeat of two Republican U.S. senators in a January 2021 general-election runoff that cost the GOP control of the upper chamber. But worse yet, Trump sought to purge Raffensperger, Kemp, and several other GOP officeholders who didn’t bend the knee during the 2022 Republican primaries, and he and his surrogates had their asses handed to them. In the midterm election, Kemp, Raffensperger, and other Republicans romped to victory. The conspicuous loser was Trump’s hand-picked Senate candidate Herschel Walker, again robbing the GOP of a shot at Senate control.

Suffice it to say that as Trump faces a potentially devastating criminal proceeding in Georgia, there are very few of his fellow partisans willing to defend him, and some of the biggest names in the state GOP have already testified against him before the grand jury and are likely to incriminate him in open court (a very open court since the proceedings may be televised). Such sympathy as Trump demands as the putative 2024 Republican presidential nominee may be eroded by racketeering charges, which will surely make potential co-conspirators keep their distance. And if Trump is found guilty by a Fulton County jury at trial, he not only cannot pardon himself as he might do with a federal conviction but cannot even throw himself on Brian Kemp’s mercy. In Georgia, pardons are administered not by the governor but by an appointed state board that in the past has limited pardons to offenders who have already done their time.

All in all, Georgia is the last place in America where Donald Trump wants to face the music for his misdeeds. He should have skipped committing election-related crimes in his nightmare state even as wealthy travelers find ways to fly around Atlanta.

 

It can be oddly fascinating to watch a presidential campaign implode, particularly if you don’t like the candidate. That’s where I am with Ron DeSantis, as I explained at New York:

Ron DeSantis remains, for the moment, the most formidable rival to Donald Trump for the 2024 Republican presidential nomination. But it’s been a long, long time since he’s gotten any particularly good news in the polls. A new Emerson College survey shows him dropping into single digits and third place in New Hampshire, behind Chris Christie. In the RealClearPolitics averages of national GOP polls, he’s dropped from 30.1 percent at the end of March to 14.8 percent now. He looks relatively strong in Iowa, where it appears he is making a desperate all-or-nothing stand, but mostly just by comparison. Trump only leads him by 27 points in the first-in-the-nation caucus state, though sparse Iowa polling may disguise a less positive environment for DeSantis.

Polling aside, recent news emanating from the DeSantis campaign has been generally quite bad. He’s had three campaign leadership shakeups, a big round of staff layoffs, and at least one major “reboot” of his message and strategy. Meanwhile, the Trump campaign is still building steam, and its main problem is that too much of his vast financial resources are going into legal costs in connection with indictments that aren’t hurting him at all among Republican voters. Another bad development for DeSantis is that a large field of rivals has remained in the race, spoiling his hopes for a one-on-one battle with the front-runner.

Once an almost obscenely well-funded campaign, the DeSantis effort appears to have a high burn rate and some serious donor defections. And more generally, he’s no longer the darling of Republican and conservative elites, most particularly Rupert Murdoch.

The trajectory of DeSantis 2024 should remind political observers of another recent Republican presidential bid that at this point in 2015 was about to enter a dramatic plunge into premature defeat well before voters voted: Scott Walker.

Read my colleague Jonathan Chait’s description of Walker as he appeared at the beginning of that race and see if it doesn’t sound exactly like the image DeSantis had built until his recent troubles:

“Scott Walker won three statewide elections in Wisconsin, which has supported the Democrat in every presidential election since 1984. He led national Republican polling as recently as March. He led in Iowa by enormous margins as recently as August. The Koch brothers loved him. Walker had spent his entire adult life developing an almost superhuman fealty to the principles of the modern Republican Party, its Reaganolotry, and, above all, a ruthless commitment to crushing its enemies beneath his boot heel. If there was anything that gave Walker joy … it was the goal of wiping organized labor off the map. As Grover Norquist enthused in May, ‘when you meet him, it’s like seeing somebody who sits on a throne on the skulls of his enemies.’”

Like DeSantis, Walker was relatively young, in his 40s, and thus was able to generate a sense of generational change in his party (the two previous GOP nominees were 72 and 65 years old, respectively). Like the Floridian, the Wisconsin governor had found the absolute sweet spot of the GOP zeitgeist: the strident ideologue who somehow still appeals to swing voters, and who strikes fear into the hearts of liberals everywhere as he destroys their counterparts in his state. Walker’s very colorlessness (like DeSantis’s) enhanced his reputation as a methodical Death Star come to remake America in his own repulsive image.

The question now is whether DeSantis will also emulate Walker in the ultimate futility of his campaign. There are as many parallels in the decline of their candidacies as in their rise to national political celebrity. Margaret Hartmann’s timeline for Walker’s brief campaign shows some of the same weaknesses as DeSantis’s, and also how quickly his problems snowballed:

“According to Real Clear Politics’ polling averages, during most of the first half of 2015, Walker was among the top three GOP presidential candidates in national polls, and led in Iowa by a wide margin …

“Some outlets ran stories such as “How Scott Walker Will Win” and “Six Reasons Why Scott Walker Will Be Elected President,” but the Times raised the possibility that Walker’s shift to the right on issues like same-sex marriage, immigration, and ethanol subsidies to maintain his lead in Iowa was making him appear inauthentic and costing him elsewhere in the nation.”

Coincidentally or not, DeSantis’s Iowa-driven decision to run to the right of Trump also had less than ideal consequences for his candidacy. Also like Walker, DeSantis seems to have also underestimated Trump. Walker pretty clearly didn’t know what hit him, Hartmann suggested:

“With Trump dominating the political conversation and a crowded field of 16 other Republican candidates, Walker’s campaign began imploding in earnest. After months on top, a CNN/ORC poll found Walker had dropped to third place in Iowa behind Trump and Ben Carson.”

At this point, Walker’s lack of charisma started becoming a problem for him in the retail political environment of Iowa, just as it’s a problem for DeSantis, especially after he made the dubious decision to promise to appear in all the state’s 99 counties. But what actually did in Walker after his campaign lost its magic were mediocre debate performances, beginning in August:

“Walker’s appearance in the first GOP debate was unmemorable. Just before the debate, he had more than 11 percent in an average of the last nine national polls, but afterward he dropped below 5 percent.”

In the second debate, in September, Walker was all but invisible, struggling to draw questions and attention. And then he was done, with his support dropping to below one percent in national polls even as Trump soared and Ted Cruz replaced Walker as the “true conservative” in the race.

It’s entirely possible that Ron DeSantis is one poor debate performance away from the sad fate of Scott Walker. He’s supposedly been deep into preparations for the first candidate debate on August 23 for a while now, though he’s handicapped by not knowing if Trump is going to show. But his margin for error has disappeared. He’s hardly the political behemoth he appeared to be earlier this year, and if he can’t turn things around soon, impatient Republicans will either resign themselves to another Trump nomination or quickly find a new alternative.

You’d figure nonwhite candidates for president would be particularly unlikely to descend to old-school racist tactics. In at least one case, you’d figure wrong, as I observed at New York:

The record number of non-white candidates running for the GOP’s 2024 presidential nomination is a source of pride for Republicans who deny their party has become a MAGA white-nationalist cult. But the candidates themselves often seem to be walking a tightrope when addressing the overwhelmingly white Republican primary electorate. The two South Carolinians in the race are good examples: Black U.S. senator Tim Scott and Indian American former governor Nikki Haley have both touted their ability to overcome racial discrimination as a personal triumph while denying systemic racism is still a problem for the country.

Indian American tech tyro Vivek Ramaswamy hasn’t spent a lot of time talking about the discrimination he might have faced; his whole claim to fame, thanks to lavish attention from Fox News, is being a crusader against “woke corporations” and anything like anti-discrimination policies in the public or private sectors. Predictable as that stance may be, Ramaswamy is now blazing new trails as a non-white candidate peddling racist dog whistles. During an appearance in Iowa over the weekend, his gratuitous attack on Juneteenth as a “useless” holiday that should be replaced with an Election Day holiday drew chuckles and applause from the all-white audience.

Ramaswamy called Juneteenth a “made-up” holiday “imposed under political duress” after the killing of George Floyd.         This actually represented a two-cushion shot to the far-right side of the table. His suggestion that we make Election Day a national holiday was accompanied by proposals to get rid of early and electronic voting and impose a national voter-ID system. I’m pretty sure Ramaswamy is too smart to believe the various forms of convenience voting came out of nowhere in 2020 to thwart Donald Trump. They have been spreading state by state for many decades, often promoted by Republicans. So the premise for his dismissal of Juneteeth comes right out of the MAGA fever swamps..

But the idea of Juneteenth’s arising from nowhere after Floyd’s death is either deeply ignorant or malignantly cynical. Juneteenth commemorations of the last slaves to learn of their emancipation in 1865 date back to 1866; the first state Juneteenth holiday was established in Texas in 1980; and before Joe Biden made it a federal holiday, 49 states had official observances. Ramaswamy’s glib dismissal of Juneteenth as “redundant” is even more insulting. Yes, the emancipation of slaves was the first step in the struggle for justice and equality for which Martin Luther King Jr. died, but both the destruction of slavery and the end of Jim Crow were distinct and momentous occurrences in U.S. history.

As anyone with access to Google can establish, Ramaswamy was singing a different tune about Juneteenth when the holiday was commemorated less than two months ago, when he called it “a celebration of the American Dream itself.”

Even then, Ramaswamy was anxious to make sure no white folks imagined that Juneteenth provided any reason for self-examination or discomfort. But he didn’t call it “useless.” I guess he needed some attention that his vast personal wealth couldn’t buy. Or perhaps he wanted to show Trump, his much-admired role model, that he really was learning the ropes.

In the wake of yet another pro-choice ballot measure victory in Ohio, I offered some thoughts at New York:

During the half-century when Roe v. Wade was law, anti-abortion advocates and their Republican allies frequently complained that the right of “the people” to determine abortion policy had been stolen by the unelected Supreme Court. It became a classic “wedge issue” benefiting the GOP, as frustrated traditionalist Catholics and conservative Evangelical Protestants left the Democratic Party in droves, providing votes and grassroots muscle to the GOP for decades. This legacy culminated in the devil’s bargain that cultural conservatives struck with Donald Trump in 2016.

Well, in the 13 months since the newly reactionary Supreme Court created by Trump reversed Roe and “the people” regained that right (which in reality meant the right to deny other people reproductive rights), voters in red and blue states alike have wherever possible used this freedom to restore the rights the courts and Republican legislators have sought to steal. It happened again on Tuesday in Ohio, the Republican-trending former battleground state where voters decisively rejected a sneaky GOP bid to make it harder to write abortion rights into the state’s constitution through a ballot initiative in November.

This is the seventh statewide abortion-ballot measure since Roe was reversed, and pro-choice forces have won every one of them, even in conservative states like Kansas, Kentucky, Montana, and now Ohio. When Ohio voters (more than likely) enact the constitutional amendment Republicans failed to block, the tally will be 8–0. And in 2024, voters in at least seven other states will decide on measures to protect or deny abortion rights.

If the rout continues, giving “the people” control over abortion policy may be quite the pyrrhic victory for the anti-abortion movement and even more so for the GOP whose electoral fortunes could be caught in the powerful backlash to Roe’s reversal. That backlash is already the prime suspect in the disappointing 2022 midterm results for Republicans who expected a “red wave” that never quite materialized. But the depth and breadth of popular commitment to abortion rights going into what may be an apocalyptic 2024 presidential cycle remains significantly unclear.

It should be understood, however, that the option of using “direct democracy” to restore abortion rights via citizen-initiated constitutional amendments that circumvent Republican legislators (as has now happened in both Michigan and Ohio) is available only in a total of 16 states. Voters may also fight back in cases where GOP lawmakers are trying to abolish state constitutional abortion rights that have been recognized by state courts and need voter ratification of their handiwork (that’s what happened in 2022 in Kansas and Kentucky). But to a significant extent, the fate of the right to choose in many politically contested states will continue to depend on partisan control of major offices, including legislative chambers, governorships, and in some cases elected judges. And that’s aside from the power of Congress to preempt state abortion laws if one party or the other secures a trifecta and can overcome a Senate filibuster. So even in states with no abortion ballot test on tap in 2024, the subject will very much be on the ballot via the two polarized pro-choice and anti-abortion major parties.

The pro-choice state-ballot-measure winning streak, the impact of the subject on key 2022 races, and bountiful polling showing pro-choice majorities in all but the most conservative corners of the country have combined to convince many Republican operatives and even elected officials that the subject is a loser for the GOP. When Donald Trump said just that at the beginning of 2023, it produced a lot of consternation among anti-abortion advocates who had previously adored him for his successfully redeemed promise to appoint justices who would overturn Roe. The Ohio results will convince even more Republicans that the 45th president was right. Perhaps they will even whisper to their abortion-obsessed allies in and beyond religious conservative circles to show some patience, keep their mouths shut, and help the GOP obtain enough power to give their friends what they want when political conditions are more favorable.

But now that Roe is gone, abortion politics is a 24/7 business, and anti-abortion activists are out of patience; that’s particularly true among the newer and more militant organizations like Susan B. Anthony Pro-Life America and Students for Life. They are eager to use the competitive Republican presidential-nomination contest to increase, not hide, their leverage over the GOP, and Trump’s candid remarks on abortion politics have encouraged his rivals to pledge greater allegiance to the cause. Mike Pence and Tim Scott have both leapt to embrace the hard-core position of favoring a national six-week abortion ban. Ron DeSantis has punctuated his effort to run to Trump’s right by bragging to Iowans about the six-week ban (deemed “too harsh” by Trump) he signed in Florida.

It’s possible Trump will cruise to the nomination without renewing the vows underlying his marriage of convenience to the anti-abortion movement, and abortion will recede as a 2024 campaign issue. But national Democrats, who know a good wedge issue when they see one, almost certainly won’t let general-election voters who is pledged to protect abortion rights and who has worked hard to abolish them. We don’t have a partisan breakdown of the vote from Ohio (the state does not have voter registration by party), but there were clear indications the “No on Issue 1” coalition included quite a few Republican voters, as did the similar pro-choice coalitions in other states with previous abortion-ballot measures. The Washington Post’s Philip Bump has presented county-level data comparing 2020 partisan-vote margins to abortion-ballot measures in Ohio and five other states (California, Kansas, Kentucky, Michigan, and Montana) and the results are striking:

“In Ohio, about one-fifth of counties that voted for Trump in 2020 opposed Issue 1. The same pattern held in the six states included above. Of the 510 counties included in the analysis, only two counties that voted for Biden in 2020 also opposed access to abortion. Among Trump-voting counties, 81 supported that access.

“To use the parlance of political observers, abortion, particularly when presented to voters directly, is an effective wedge issue for the left.”

In a hypothetical Biden-Trump general-election rematch, a significant number of anti-Trump Republicans and Republican-leaning independents will be under pressure to defect to Biden, as a decent number did in 2020. Abandoned pro-choice swing voters of every background will have another reason to conduct their own protest against the GOP, or at least split their tickets.

The prominence of the issue will be enhanced in the media and the minds of voters by conspicuous abortion-rights ballot measures that will face 2024 voters in DeSantis’s Florida, and perhaps in ultra-battleground Arizona. It’s a bad look for today’s allegedly populist, anti-elite GOP to deny people fundamental rights or even the power to determine policies affecting their fundamental rights. Abortion rights could be the populist cause of the next decade or so. That’s a real problem for Republicans.

The clumsiness Ron DeSantis is exhibiting in the 2024 Republican presidential contest is most evident on the fraught cultural issue of abortion, as I explained at New York:

It used to be abortion politics were pretty easy to navigate for GOP pols. Nearly all favored a reversal of Roe v. Wade and demagogued about rare (and usually medically necessary) late-term abortions. Many walked on the wild side and favored fetal “personhood” laws and other total bans that affected not only abortion but contraception; outside the ever-attentive ranks of anti-abortion activists, nobody much cared what these pols advocated. After all, Roe protected pre-viability abortions from sea to shining sea as a matter of federal constitutional law.

When the U.S. Supreme Court overturned Roe in June of last year, it was a huge victory for the anti-abortion movement and, in theory, for its GOP allies. But it has created new and difficult choices for Republican politicians, notably RDS.

When SCOTUS was deliberating over what would became the fatal opinion in Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, based on a challenge from Mississippi, the Republican-controlled legislature in Florida enacted, and DeSantis signed, a copycat law, banning abortion after 15 weeks of pregnancy. Nobody knew for sure at that point exactly what SCOTUS would do; the leak of Justice Samuel Alito’s majority opinion was a few weeks away. But DeSantis associated himself with a cruel (and unpopular) approach with no exceptions for pregnancies caused by rape or incest.

Post-Dobbs, as DeSantis prepared to run for president, the Florida law, obnoxious as it was, became conspicuously modest as compared to the total and near-total bans being enacted by Republicans in other southern states. But at the same time, the backlash to the abolition of abortion rights grew intense almost everywhere, playing a big role in the underwhelming GOP performance in the 2022 midterms. So DeSantis characteristically played it both ways: He welcomed a six-week ban, but he signed it in the dead of night, and for a good while (even at the Christian right bastion of Liberty University) wouldn’t talk about it.

That changed when the DeSantis presidential campaign became focused on Iowa and its extremely powerful conservative Evangelical–anti-abortion constituency, whose leaders were offended by Donald Trump’s public remarks describing abortion as a loser of an issue, even as he refused to back any particular post-Dobbs abortion laws. Meanwhile, influential Iowa governor Kim Reynolds signed her own six-week ban (which is currently held up in the courts), and it began to look like DeSantis had gotten it right, at least for the GOP primaries.

But no, as Politico reported this week:

“The nation’s leading anti-abortion group on Monday called Gov. Ron DeSantis’ failure to support federal abortion restrictions ‘unacceptable’ — a blow for the Florida Republican, who has passed one of the most restrictive abortion laws in the country.

“Susan B. Anthony Pro-Life America was responding to DeSantis’ recent interview with conservative commentator Megyn Kelly, in which the governor said abortion policy would be best decided by the states.”

Like several other Republican presidential candidates (notably Trump and Nikki Haley), DeSantis had for months bobbed and weaved and avoided taking a firm position on the prospect of a federal abortion ban that would override state laws, even though the more strident anti-abortion groups like SBA had made a 15-week national ban a litmus test for those seeking their support. But Kelly pinned him down, and DeSantis decided alarming blue-state Americans by threatening state-protected abortion rights wouldn’t be terribly prudent, all the more because the Senate filibuster makes a federal abortion ban inconceivable in the immediate future, as he pointed out.

The SBA group’s president Marjorie Dannenfelser wasn’t having any of it, Politico noted:

“‘Gov. DeSantis’s dismissal of this task is unacceptable to pro-life voters,’ Dannenfelser said. ‘A consensus is already formed. Intensity for it is palpable and measurable. There are many pressing legislative issues for which Congress does not have the votes at the moment, but that is not a reason for a strong leader to back away from the fight.’”

Mike Pence and Tim Scott have signed onto the national ban, leaving DeSantis in a conspicuous spotlight as the advocate of an extremist position on abortion who’s under attack for not wanting to impose his extremist position on all 50 states, at least right away. He’s probably lost any advantage over Trump (already beloved of the anti-abortion movement because he kept his promise to get Roe reversed) on the abortion policy that he might have held or imagined. But the candidate who keeps pledging to make America a jumbo-size replica of Florida cannot run away from the fact that his own state’s citizens are being denied reproductive rights altogether.