People will look back on this era in our history to see what was known about Donald Trump while Americans were deciding whether to choose him as president. Here’s a running chronicle from James Fallows on the evidence available to voters as they make their choice, and of how Trump has broken the norms that applied to previous major-party candidates. (For a Fallows-led, ongoing reader discussion on Trump’s rise to the presidency, see “Trump Nation.”)
I am pivoting toward a sanity-protecting, time-preserving policy of simply noting “norm-changing” activities from the Trump campaign. That is, words or actions for which there is no known precedent from other nominees. Two from today:
1) S.V. Date’s story in Huffington Post on how the Trump campaign raised the rent (for space in Trump’s own buildings) once donors started picking up the tab. Sample:
Trump nearly quintupled the monthly rent his presidential campaign pays for its headquarters at Trump Tower to $169,758 in July, when he was raising funds from donors, compared with March, when he was self-funding his campaign, according to a Huffington Post review of Federal Election Commission filings. The rent jumped even though he was paying fewer staff in July than he did in March.
When “profiteering” or “self-dealing” complaints have arisen in past campaigns, they’ve usually involved consultants or pollsters who might, say, coordinate big TV-ad buys and then take a commission on all the purchases. I’m not aware of any that have involved the candidate’s own businesses before.
2) Roger Stone, one of Trump’s most ferocious advocates, says that Trump should release his tax returns “immediately.” The norm-changing aspect here is Trump’s ongoing refusal to release his tax information, an obligation that even Stone recognizes. Fred Goldberg, who served as commissioner of the IRS under the first President Bush, writes to underscore the fatuousness of Trump’s “they’re under audit” excuse for not releasing his returns.
Reminder: The original idea behind this Time Capsule series was to record, in real time, what the American public knows and learns about Donald Trump while it is deciding whether he should become president. Mainly I’ve tried to stick with norm-changing events, those for which there is no obvious precedent. Here are four recent items that, to the best of my knowledge, differ from what we’ve ever seen from major-party nominees or their campaigns.
1) “Hillary Clinton is sick.” In stump speeches Donald Trump has been saying that Hillary Clinton looks bad and has to sleep a lot. His campaign representatives Rudy Giuliani and Katrina Pierson have been much more direct, implying that Clinton either has a serious disease or is suffering cognitive damage. You can read about it in David Graham’s new item here, and also here, here, here, and here. On CNN, Amy Kremer of Women Vote Trump likened the aftereffects of Clinton’s concussion several years ago to traumatic brain damage for NFL players.
On the merits of such claims, Clinton’s doctor, Lisa Bardack, has released a statement denying these reports and affirming her “excellent health.” (As a reminder, the only health information Trump has released is the Onion-style report from last year, which states “unequivocally he will be the healthiest individual ever elected to the presidency.”)
As for the norms of campaigning: Health questions obviously have a long history in presidential politics. Franklin Roosevelt was gravely ill when he ran for a fourth term in 1944 but did his best to conceal that—as he had (with press connivance) minimized awareness of his paralysis throughout his time as president. There were whispering campaigns about Ronald Reagan’s age and mental condition when he ran for re-election in 1984, about John Kennedy’s ailments including Addison’s disease in 1960, and of course about Thomas Eagleton’s history of mental illness, which drove him from the Democratic ticket in 1972. But I’m not aware of a previous case in which senior campaign representatives came right out with public suggestions of ill health, as Trump’s are doing now.
2. Deportation? Maybe not. Reports over the weekend suggest that Trump might be reconsidering his promise to find people without legal immigration papers and send them back home.
“Adaptability” has always been part of politics. FDR ran as a fiscal conservative in 1932 but then launched the New Deal. Woodrow Wilson ran for re-election in 1916 as the president who “kept us out of war” and then took us into war. Mike Pence and Tim Kaine, both previously in favor of the TPP trade deal, now are both against it—the same is of course true of Hillary Clinton. There are examples from almost every president or nominee.
But again I’m not aware of another case of a nominee suggesting a change on so fundamental a premise of his campaign. It is as if Abraham Lincoln, in 1860, had indicated that he was open-minded about secession, or like George McGovern in 1972 saying that maybe the Vietnam War wasn’t so bad. (And to spell this out: Lincoln and McGovern were right in the views they had and stuck with. Trump’s deportation plan, in my view, is wrong, but it’s been the heart of his campaign.)
3. A new season of The Apprentice? A report by Sarah Ellison of Vanity Fair indicates that Trump talked with NBC officials, before he ran, about possibly hosting new seasons of the show from the White House. Obviously nothing like this has occurred before. Closest imaginable counterpart: if Ronald Reagan, after becoming president, had revived General Electric Theater, a TV series that he hosted in the 1950s and early 1960s.
Every president ends up resenting the press. While in office Harry Truman got so mad about a hostile Washington Post review of his daughter’s piano concert that he sent a personal letter to the reviewer, Paul Hume, threatening to beat him up. (The letter is here, and it is amazing. For instance: “Some day I hope to meet you. When that happens you'll need a new nose, a lot of beefsteak for black eyes, and perhaps a supporter below!”) But the Truman episode is famous because it’s so unusual.
The main other illustration: During the 2000 campaign, then-nominee George W. Bush stood at a podium with running mate Dick Cheney and, not realizing the microphone was on, referred to a certain New York Times reporter as “a major league asshole.” Cheney replied, “Yeah, big time.” This is like what Trump keeps doing with his tweets, except that Bush and Cheney didn’t think they were doing it in public, whereas Trump is deliberately sending the message to millions of followers.
It’s now 77 days until the election: no tax returns or plausible health report forthcoming; official GOP leadership still standing firm with the nominee.
Donald Trump’s comments last night in Dimondale, Michigan, have already received a lot of attention. They’re worth noting as part of his campaign’s evolution, and worth watching in the video below, for these reasons:
They come after, not before, the latest “pivot” to a more compassionate, more general-election-minded tone in the campaign. This is the nice Trump.
They resemble appeals with a long and sometimes honorable history. Some black conservatives, and more whites, have argued over the decades that the taken-for-granted status of black support for Democratic candidates leaves the African-American vote, well, taken for granted. The most heartfelt and appealing version of the argument that black voters should consider voting Republican came from the late Jack Kemp, due to his sunny bearing and his own bona fides from a career in the integrated world of sports. It was different from the version Trump presented here.
Trump ostensibly made his argument to black voters, asking “what do you have to lose?” But if you watch the clip you’ll see that in context he is talking about black people, to an audience that was mainly white. (Audience composition is something you can largely control if you’re running a national campaign. Where you hold the event, where you drum up attendance, whom you seat in the prominent on-camera places behind the candidate and in the front of the crowd—these all have an effect and can be tuned.)
Most remarkable was a tone that amounted to treating black America as a problem, rather than as a group that has some problems. The tension between statement and insinuation was similar to Trump’s inaugural statement last year about Mexicans: “they’re sending rapists.” He wasn’t explicitly saying, “Mexicans are rapists.” But the tone and insinuation were those you would never use about a group you cared about, or respected. Also, the repeated you when talking to or about black Americans was not matched by a we, emphasizing that blacks, Mexicans, etc were all part of our America.
Listen to the passage starting at time 1:05 of the clip below. To me the unavoidable tone is the same: What is wrong with “you people”?
Trump rounds out this appeal by saying that if he’s elected, he’ll get 95% black support for his re-election. “I guarantee it!” This will probably end up being classified in the “sarcastic” bin, given that not even Barack Obama got that large a share of the black vote in his re-election run. He got about 93% in 2012; Trump right now is running between 1% and 3% black support, depending on the polls.
Update Trump has said similar things, more clearly, on Fox News. It’s worth reading the report on Think Progress. “Total catastrophe” is one of the terms he uses to describe the achievements and situation of black Americans.
When I saw this news last night, I thought: can I stand to add this to the log? The photo below is part of the reason I’ve gone ahead and done so.
Incumbent Republican Senator Pat Toomey of Pennsylvania is running hard for re-election this year, in a state where Donald Trump is now running far behind Hillary Clinton. I saw his campaign bus yesterday evening in Erie and talked with a staffer who was standing by the bus.
“You from Pennsylvania?” he asked — ie, are you a potential voter worth my spending time with?
“Originally!” I said, accurately if misleadingly. I was born in Philadelphia, where my parents grew up, before the Navy moved our family to California. Then I asked, “How does the Senator stand on Trump?”
“He’s still waiting to see,” the staffer said. (It turns out that “waiting” is the official Toomey stance on this issue.)
“I wonder what more he needs to see,” I volunteered, as the staffer began to realize I wasn’t a likely prospect, and the caravan moved on.
That’s why it’s worth adding to the chronicle. “Responsible” Republicans like Senator Toomey are still considering Donald Trump potentially acceptable, as he continues to say and do the things he says and does.
There it stands, with 79 days until the election, and no tax returns or plausible medical report on offer from the Trump campaign.
No larger point for now (still on the road, out all days on interviews in Erie), but here we note for the record the second major change in Trump campaign leadership within roughly two months.
In June, Corey Lewandowski was out, soon to join CNN, and Paul Manafort was in. Today, Manafort is out, and Kellyanne Conway and Steve Bannon are in.
To say something you might have seen before in this space: This level of churn and chaos very rarely occurs in a major-party presidential campaign. To the best of my knowledge, it has never occurred in a winning campaign.
Now perhaps we’ll never know who was telling the truth about the change in the GOP platform, made at the convention, that favored Russia and Manafort’s pro-Russian former client, Viktor Yanukovych (as noted here two weeks ago). Members of the platform committee say that the Manafort-led Trump campaign asked for this change, and only this change, in the party’s platform. Manafort flatly and categorically denied that Team Trump had anything whatsoever to do with the change. “It absolutely did not come from the campaign,” he told George Stephanopoulos. “No one, zero” from the campaign was involved.
The members of the platform committee had no reason to misrepresent what happened. Manafort did, and had a long record of Baghdad Bob-like flat denials of reality when speaking for the campaign. Thus I’ve assumed that he was the one dissembling. But presumably the press spotlight will for now move away from him and resolving this issue. Legal proceedings could be another matter.
Eighty days to go until the election; still no tax returns or plausible medical report on offer from the Trump campaign; but it’s a new team with a new start. On to new reports tomorrow.
I’ve innocently spent a few days offline, in the same city (Erie, Pa.) where Donald Trump spoke this weekend but seeing a completely different prospect from the one he described. And I log back to on to see—whoa!
In order, and for the record:
Medical records. While Trump’s refusal to release his tax records has gotten more attention, his failure to provide a plausible medical report is in a way more shocking (as I’ve noted over the months).
The only report he has put out is a preposterous North Korean News Service-style farce last year, from a doctor who certified him as “unequivocally the healthiest individual ever elected to the presidency.” Also, the very oldest. Ronald Reagan was not quite 70 when he began his first term. Donald Trump would be 70 ½.
Meanwhile, tax returns. This past weekend in the NYT, Rep. Mark Sanford of South Carolina wrote an op-ed called “I Support You, Donald Trump. Now, Release Your Tax Returns.” Sanford, a former governor, is no one’s idea of a liberal. He makes a powerful case, from a stance of supporting Trump, that Trump should respect the expectation of all nominees since Richard Nixon and release his taxes. Sample:
I ran twice for governor of South Carolina, and I released my tax returns both times. To be frank, it felt a bit like a colonoscopy: I didn’t like it, but it was our tradition in South Carolina. The power of staying true to the precedent that had been set prevailed. If presidential candidates won’t release their tax returns, you can expect the same in the states. If a presidential nominee doesn’t do it, why should a candidate for governor?
Paul Manafort, we hardly knew ye. On the day that Manafort gets competition for his leadership of the Trump campaign, yet another story about the complications of his involvement in Ukraine. Sample, from the AP:
Donald Trump’s campaign chairman helped a pro-Russian governing party in Ukraine secretly route at least $2.2 million in payments to two prominent Washington lobbying firms in 2012, and did so in a way that effectively obscured the foreign political party's efforts to influence U.S. policy.
The revelation, provided to The Associated Press by people directly knowledgeable about the effort, comes at a time when Trump has faced criticism for his friendly overtures to Russian President Vladimir Putin. It also casts new light on the business practices of campaign chairman Paul Manafort.
It’s worth noting that Manafort still has not addressed what appears to be an important and very public flat-out lie: his claim that no one from the Trump campaign had anything whatsoever to do with a change in the GOP platform to favor Russia and weaken support for Ukraine.
Team Breitbart. Oh lord. Please read this wonderful story by my former Atlantic colleague Joshua Green, in Bloomberg Businessweek, about the new talent Trump has brought onto his team. A clue comes from the headline: “This Man is the Most Dangerous Political Operative in America.” And that was before he took charge of the GOP campaign!
These intel people, what do they know? As he gets his first classified briefing, Donald Trump says he “doesn’t trust” the official U.S. government intel agencies. Good! Maybe they won’t have to give him subsequent briefings.
On the cusp of 81 days until the election, with neither tax returns nor a plausible medical report released, I’ll stop with this for the moment, and get back to the things actually going in a positive direction in the country. Despite the “to infinity” billing in this item’s headline, there are sure to be more installments to come.
This is a breaking-news placeholder, for “what we knew, when” purposes:
One month ago, the Republican platform was altered to soften any commitment to supporting Ukraine in its struggles against Russia (which seized Crimea from Ukraine two years ago). This was the only significant change in the foreign-policy aspects of the platform at the convention.
Two weeks ago, Donald Trump’s campaign manager Paul Manafort, whose former PR clients included Victor Yanukovich, the now-deposed, pro-Russian President of Ukraine, categorically denied that he or anyone from the Trump campaign had anything whatsoever to do with this change.
One week ago, several members of the platform committee began emerging to say: No, that’s not true, the only reason for the change was pressure from the Trump campaign. That is, that Paul Manafort’s categorical denials had to be false. The Trump campaign has not addressed the contradictions.
This evening, the New York Times has a big investigative piece by Andrew Kramer, Mike McIntire, and Barry Meier on Paul Manafort’s involvement in Ukraine. It says, among other things, that secret ledgers “show $12.7 million in undisclosed cash payments designated for Mr. Manafort from Mr. Yanukovych’s pro-Russian political party from 2007 to 2012, according to Ukraine’s newly formed National Anti-Corruption Bureau. Investigators assert that the disbursements were part of an illegal off-the-books system whose recipients also included election officials.” A delicious note is that Corey Lewandowski, the ousted pre-Manafort Trump campaign manager, tweeted out a link to the NYT story.
What does this add up to? At the moment I don’t know. I will say one more time: nothing quite like this has happened before. And with 84 days until the election, there is all the more reason to expect Donald Trump to do what all other post-Nixon nominees have done, and release his tax returns.
Actually, that’s a pretty good working definition of what freedom of the press is, and by extension freedom of speech as well.
If a statement is “completely false,” and personally damaging and malicious, there is the remedy of libel law. But if a statement is “complete false” in that it runs against your own beliefs or evident facts—for instance, a claim that the current president is a “founder of ISIS” or was born in Kenya—free societies place long-term faith in the concept of the marketplace of ideas. They are built as well on the belief that in diverse democracies people will have to put up with views contrary to their own. (Yes, I do realize that there are different, more permissive legal standards for false statements about public figures.)
All politicians end up resenting the press, while also courting and relying on it. I am not aware of any other president or major-party nominee who has used air-quotes around “freedom of the press” or publicly made arguments about its limits similar to this latest one from Trump, with 85 days to go until the election.
I am aware, though, of some other thoughts on this theme:
If there is any principle of the Constitution that more imperatively calls for attachment than any other it is the principle of free thought-not free thought for those who agree with us but freedom for the thought that we hate.
Donald Trump embraces his status as an outsider to the world of politics and policy. He says that once in office, he would attract “all the best people.” He could make the great deals, and then they could work out all the little details.
This week he announced a group of these best people, including a former lieutenant governor of New York named Elizabeth “Betsy” McCaughey.
For those who have followed national policy debates over the past generation, this is not an encouraging sign. McCaughey has been a central, causal factor in two of the major failures of public information and decision-making since the early 1990s. Thus selecting her sends a signal roughly comparable to announcing a famous anti-climate-science figure as an environmental advisor or an anti-vaccine activist for counsel on public health.
Nearly 25 years ago, when Bill and Hillary Clinton were trying to pass their health care reform plan. Betsy McCaughey made her name with a completely inaccurate, but politically damaging, misrepresentation of the plan. You can go back to an Atlantic article I wrote about this in 1995 for the details. In essence: in her “No Exit” essay for The New Republic, McCaughey invented and propagated the myth that the health care bill would criminalize buying any health care outside the government program. That was flat-out false, but proving that it was false took time—and by then the damage had been done. (More after the jump.)
During the Obamacare debates seven years ago, McCaughey more or less single-handedly created the myth that the bill would set up “death panels” to determine whether ailing patients were worth keeping alive. Also false. Also damaging.
Unlike some of the other Trump words or deeds recorded in these chronicles, the decision to involve McCaughey in a campaign is not unprecedented. After her burst of prominence in the Clinton-era health-care wars, McCaughey was recruited to be George Pataki’s running mate in his campaign for governor of New York in 1994. The two soon fell out, and by the time Pataki ran for re-election in 1998, McCaughey ran against him—first in the primary for the Democratic nomination, and after she lost there, as a Liberal party candidate for governor. But Trump’s selection of her now shows something about his up-to-dateness on these issues and his ability to judge and attract talent.
Update: Similarly on Trump’s instinct for talent, consider his spokesperson, Katrina Pierson, saying today on CNN that the U.S. “was not in Afghanistan” until Barack Obama took office and decided that the U.S. should wage war there.
“The law will prevent you from going outside the system to buy basic health coverage you think is better,” McCaughey wrote in the first paragraph. “The doctor can be paid only by the plan, not by you.” … The “doctors in jail” concept soon turned up on talk shows and was echoed for the rest of the year.
These claims were simply false. McCaughey’s pose of impartiality was undermined by her campaign as the Republican nominee for lieutenant governor of New York soon after her article was published.
I was less impressed with her scholarly precision after I compared her article with the text of the Clinton bill. Her shocked claim that coverage would be available only for “necessary” and “appropriate” treatment suggested that she had not looked at any of today’s insurance policies. In claiming that the bill would make it impossible to go outside the health plan or pay doctors on one’s own, she had apparently skipped past practically the first provision of the bill (Sec. 1003), which said,
“Nothing in this Act shall be construed as prohibiting the following: (1) An individual from purchasing any health care services.”
In an interview with the Miami Herald today, a man who could become the next president said that if it were up to him, U.S. citizens suspected of terrorist involvement could be sent to Guantanamo and handled by military tribunals, rather than tried in normal courts.
Here is what the Sixth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution says on the topic:
In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the state and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the assistance of counsel for his defense.
Of course you could make a case that unusual circumstances require unusual measures: Abraham Lincoln imposed martial law during the Civil War. Woodrow Wilson suppressed free speech during World War I. Franklin Roosevelt notoriously authorized the internment of ethnically Japanese U.S. citizens during World War II. The entirety of the post-9/11 era has involved tensions along the frontier between liberty and security, and elaborations of the differences between the rights of people in general and the additional rights (under U.S. law) of U.S. citizens.
You could make a case—but Trump didn’t even pretend to try. Here is the extent of his “thinking” on an issue involving first principles of liberty, constitutional balance, and how a democracy maintains its values while defending itself:
Asked about Guantánamo in the past, Trump has said he would like to “load it up with bad dudes.”…
“Would you try to get the military commissions — the trial court there — to try U.S. citizens?” a reporter asked.
“Well, I know that they want to try them in our regular court systems, and I don’t like that at all. I don’t like that at all,” he said. “I would say they could be tried there, that would be fine.”
“I don’t like that at all”—such is his case against today’s understanding of constitutional protections. “That would be fine.” Actually, no.
And still, as the clock ticks down to 87 days until the election, we have: no tax returns; no plausible medical report (for the North Korean News Service version of a report, see this); no flinching by the likes of Ryan, McConnell, McCain, Portman, Rubio, Toomey, Ayotte, et al on what it would mean to have this man in command.
Yesterday Donald Trump said that Barack Obama is “the founder of ISIS. He’s the founder of ISIS. He’s the founder. He founded ISIS.”
This is not true.
Context point #1: If you would like to know the real background of ISIS—where it came from, who its actual founders were, what it does and why, etc.—you can make no better start than to follow the works of Graeme Wood. Here is his March 2015 Atlantic cover story “What ISIS Wants.”
Context point #2: You can imagine some non-lunatic context for what a comment like Trump’s could conceivably be meant to say. That would require assuming that “founder” meant “person who created the conditions that gave rise to.” For instance:
David Lloyd George, Woodrow Wilson, and Georges Clemenceau “were the founders of Nazism,” since the harsh terms they set at the Treaty of Versailles were part of the reason for the economic and political problems within Germany from which Hitler’s Nazis arose. Or
Ronald Reagan “was the founder of al-Qaeda,” since he supported the Afghan resistance fighters (including Osama bin Laden) who opposed the Soviet occupation and later turned their fury on the United States. Or
Abraham Lincoln “was the founder of the Ku Klux Klan,” because if he had never bothered to fight the Confederacy or sign the Emancipation Proclamation the conditions that led to the Klan’s formation would not have occurred. Or
George W. Bush and Dick Cheney “were the founders of ISIS,” because by invading Iraq ...
You get the idea. But if you wanted to make this kind of historical chain-of-causation argument, you would actually say something of that sort. For instance about Obama: “The irony of President Obama’s determination to get us out of Iraq is that, in his very haste to flee, he ensured that we’d be involved for years. That’s because …” and you would go on to say something about conditions in Iraq, and the continuation of the drone war, and the nightmare of Syria, and so on.
I wouldn’t buy the case—for me, if there are any American “founders” of ISIS, they’re more likely to be the people who began the U.S. military involvement in Iraq than the ones who tried to end it—but at least it would be a case. It would not be one more fantasy.
Unfortunately, Donald Trump has not made this kind of chain-of-reasoning argument about anything. People have stagnant incomes? Boom! It’s NAFTA and the Chinese. Crime in the cities? Boom! Let’s build that wall. ISIS is “chopping off heads,” as Trump most typically phrases it? Boom! Obama’s the founder. And as David Graham has pointed out, this morning on the radio Trump made clear that he intended the statement in its baldest, stupidest, and most obviously untrue sense: that Obama had literally founded ISIS.
Trump doesn’t care that this statement, like so many others, is flat-out false. Nor, to judge by their actions, do Mike Pence, Paul Ryan, Mitch McConnell, Marco Rubio, Rob Portman, John McCain, Pat Toomey, Chris Christie, Rudy Giuliani, or the other “responsible” Republicans who stand with Trump. It’s 88 days until the election; we have no tax returns or plausible medical report from Trump; and there is a chance that he could become commander in chief.
Noted for the record: Today, August 9, 2016, was the day the Republican standard-bearer made a joke in public about his Democratic rival possibly being shot to death:
To the best of my knowledge, this has not happened before in modern times. I am in transit today and pass the baton to TheAtlantic’s David Graham for a full rundown of the episode. For instance:
The suggestion that the assassination of a presidential candidate—or the killing of Supreme Court justices, or an armed insurrection, depending on interpretation—could solve a policy dispute is a shocking new low for a campaign that has continually reset expectations. Trump’s defenders often scold the media for being humorless, or taking Trump’s comments too seriously. So let’s preemptively dismiss that counterargument: This aside was clearly intended to be a joke. It is also entirely shocking and appalling, even in that context.
At no point in recent American history has the nominee of one of the two major parties even jested about the murder of a rival.
It shouldn’t need to be said, but still I will say:
People don’t do this. If an ordinary citizen made a similar joke at a town meeting, or if someone in the media like me were to say something similar on a TV or radio show, the Secret Service would probably want to know more. Through modern times, which is to say since the assassination of John F. Kennedy (and of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy, and the attempted assassinations of Gerald Ford, Ronald Reagan, George Wallace, and so on), “jokes” about shooting a president or presidential candidate are categorically not funny. Make a joke about blowing up a plane while at an airport, and you’ll be in trouble. Make a joke about guns as the solution to an election outcome you don’t like, and at the very least you are not showing commander-in-chief temperament.
Have you no sense of decency? Any Republican “leader” who stands with Trump after this will forever share the stain Trump is bringing to public life. This is like standing with Joe McCarthy after the Joseph Welch “Have you no sense of decency?” episode. It is like standing with Bull Connor. “Responsible” Republicans, the reputation of your party’s nominee can’t be changed at this point. Yours, and the party’s, are being set now.
Again for the time capsule: With 90 days until the election, one nominee has joked about the other being shot to death, and as of this moment his party elders stand with him.
Noted as part of the ongoing record, the extraordinary statement signed yesterday by 50 veterans of national-security policy in Republican administrations, arguing that Donald Trump would be “a dangerous President and would put at risk our country’s national security and well being.” You can read the original document here, and a NYT story about it here.
Why this is extraordinary:
That it exists at all. Election-year rhetoric usually brings statements about candidates who are “wrong” or “unprepared” or “weak” or “bad choices for America” or what have you. And usually these are from people in the trenches of political warfare, not from the career policy-expert class.
This statement is not part of political-debate-as-usual. It’s one more, and in its way the most dramatic, in the recent series of unusual, “this time it’s different” statements of flat disqualification. Recent examples include: the comment by the incumbent president (Obama) that a nominee (Trump) is “unfit” to serve; the observation by a former CIA head that a foreign government had flattered and conned a nominee and turned him into an “unwitting agent of the Russian Federation”; and the warning from a former allied Prime Minister that a candidate presents “a serious threat to the security of the west.”
Who signed it. If you have followed the ins and outs of foreign policy over the years, you will instantly recognize most of these names, and you will also understand that they are bona fide Republicans and conservatives. Some mainly had military, diplomatic, or intelligence careers before rising to senior posts in (mainly) Republican administrations: for instance, John Negroponte, a longtime diplomat who became Director of National Intelligence under GW Bush. Some have had multiple policy positions in GOP administrations: for instance, Robert Zoellick, who became U.S. Trade Representative, Deputy Secretary of State, and then president of the World Bank under GW Bush. Others have been in and out of academia and government. Philip Zelikow, a scholar who was lead author of the 9/11 Commission Report and was State Department counselor under Condoleezza Rice (and whom I’ve come to know as a friend) has signed on. So has Tom Ridge, former Republican governor of Pennsylvania and first Secretary of Homeland Security under GW Bush. So has his successor at DHS, Michael Chertoff.
I could add a note about almost every person on the list, but I’ll just say: in most Republican administrations, you’d expect to see lots of these same names in serious foreign-policy jobs, and many others as part of the informal brains-trust. Why does this matter? First, it means that they have some standing to speak. Second, it means that they have something to lose.
The sympathetic view of the failures by Paul Ryan, Marco Rubio, Rob Portman, and others to separate themselves from Trump is that they can’t “take the risk.” The people signing this latest letter are taking a quite definite personal and career risk. For the ones still interested in appointive office, the next Republican administration is their next realistic chance for a job. But they’re saying: that’s not worth tolerating Trump. As someone with comparable experience, but mainly with Democratic politicians, wrote me about the letter: “Their bravery in warning about Trump—at personal risk and sacrifice—deserves to be remembered and honored.”
What they said. This is a very tough statement. Again, if you have followed the ins and outs of foreign policy over the years, you will understand that they are bona fide Republicans and conservatives. It’s worth reading the argument, not just the signatory list, because of the clarity with which they make their case. Sample:
“He is unable or unwilling to separate truth from falsehood. He does not encourage conflicting views. He lacks self-control and acts impetuously. He cannot tolerate personal criticism. He has alarmed our closest allies with his erratic behavior. All of these are dangerous qualities in an individual who aspires to be President and Commander-in-Chief, with command of the U.S. nuclear arsenal.”
I don’t know whether this will change anyone’s mind, but it is one more sign that Trump, as candidate, really is different from the array of nominees the electorate has chosen from before.
So it is offered for the record, with 90 days to go until the election, and also with: no tax returns or plausible health report yet in prospect from the Trump campaign; no response from the campaign on the origins of the pro-Russian change in the GOP platform; no response to David Fahrenthold’s ongoing efforts for the Washington Post to see whether Donald Trump has ever actually made any of the charitable contributions he has publicized and promised; and on down the list.
As we peer around the corner of the pandemic, let’s talk about what we want to do—and not do—with the rest of our lives.
At the bleakest moment in the pandemic, when you felt your most stressed, most scared, least centered, you probably heard some variation of the phrase This is really hard. Maybe you read it; maybe your manager said it to you; maybe you said it to yourself. But that’s the truth: Our nearly two years of living through a pandemic have been hard. And like everything else in the United States, that difficulty has not been evenly distributed. It has been hardest for those on the front lines, those afraid of how customers will react to their requests to put on a mask, those out of work or in constant fear of the way COVID variants are whipping through their community. It has been hard, in different ways, for those attempting to work and supervise school from home, for those in complete isolation, for those terrified of being around other people. It is fucking hard, in so many intersecting and unfair ways.
The film’s lead is reprehensible and self-aggrandizing––and mesmerizing to watch.
Mikey Saber, the preening, confident chump who’s the ostensible hero of Sean Baker’s new film, Red Rocket, enters on-screen to a loud and familiar tune: “Bye Bye Bye,” by *NSync. The song is a piece of mainstream pop from yesteryear (it’s a shiver-inducing 21 years old), and its usage in this arty indie film seems laced with irony. Baker knows, though, that for all its non-subtlety, “Bye Bye Bye” is still as catchy as it was the day of its release, and he uses it to suggest the same of Mikey (played by Simon Rex): He’s his own kind of relic, rolling back into his hometown after a failed career in Los Angeles, but he’s still got a glint of charm to him.
Baker has always told small-scale stories set on the margins of America—2015’s Tangerinewas a bittersweet Christmas tale about trans sex workers, and 2017’s The Florida Project was about “hidden homeless” families living in a motel. Both of those films were empathetic works about people enduring incredibly challenging circumstances—Baker, who often casts first-time actors in his work, is a master of displaying unvarnished truth on-screen. Red Rocket is far more sour than sweet, but that’s part of the point; Mikey is a reprehensible fellow, but he’s clawed his way through life by sheer force of will, and as such, the camera simply can’t look away.
The film is a face-off between two visions of the American West—one of promise and the other of hostility.
The banjo may seem like an innocent instrument, but in The Power of the Dog, it’s downright menacing. The swaggering rancher Phil Burbank (played by Benedict Cumberbatch) at the center of Jane Campion’s new film is introduced as a thin-skinned bully who’s quick to insult those around him. But I didn’t realize what a frightening character he was going to be until Phil retired to his bed, pulled out a banjo, and started angrily plucking at it; that humble string instrument hasn’t been played so malevolently on-screen since the notorious “dueling banjos” of Deliverance.
Campion’s first feature film in 12 years, based on the novel of the same name by Thomas Savage, is set on a 1925 Montana ranch that’s surrounded by spiky mountains and acres of barren landscape filled with both promise and hostility. There, Phil has proudly carved out a lonely existence for himself as a cattle herder, while his full-hearted brother, George (Jesse Plemons), is dissatisfied with their spartan life and seeking companionship. Into this dynamic wanders local widow Rose (Kirsten Dunst) and her son, Peter (Kodi Smit-McPhee). George marries Rose, seeing the newcomers as the beginning of a real family, but Phil derides them as too weak for life on the range.
A perfect confluence of events created a stealth killer.
It was 1996, Bill Clinton was president, and endangered bald eagles were dying in his home state of Arkansas.
Twenty-nine were found dead at a man-made reservoir called DeGray Lake, before deaths spread to two other lakes. But what really puzzled scientists was how the eagles acted before they died. The stately birds were suddenly flying straight into cliff faces. They hit trees. Their wings drooped. Even on solid ground, they stumbled around as if drunk.
“We weren’t in the political limelight that often,” says Carol Meteyer, who was then a pathologist for the National Wildlife Health Center, a usually obscure federal agency that investigates animal deaths. But as the toll rose, to more than 70 eagles in total, the mass die-off of America’s national bird in the president’s home state took on outsize symbolic importance. Scientists around the country were detailed to the case, but they kept coming up empty: It wasn’t botulism. It wasn’t heavy metals. It wasn’t pesticides. It didn’t seem to be anything known to man. “About the only thing that hasn’t been tested for is second-hand cigarette smoke,” an official told The New York Times in 1998. “We’ve even had people calling in suggesting that it’s radiation from outer space.”
Like it or not, the way we work has already evolved.
In 2019, Steven Spielbergcalled for a ban on Oscar eligibility for streaming films, claiming that “movie theaters need to be around forever” and that audiences had to be given “the motion picture theatrical experience” for a movie to be a movie. Spielberg’s fury was about not only the threat that streaming posed to the in-person viewing experience but the ways in which the streaming giant Netflix reported theatrical grosses and budgets, despite these not being the ways in which one evaluates whether a movie is good or not. Netflix held firm, saying that it stood for “everyone, everywhere [enjoying] releases at the same time,” and for “giving filmmakers more ways to share art.” Ultimately, Spielberg balked, and last month his company even signed a deal with Netflix, likely because he now sees the writing on the wall: Modern audiences enjoy watching movies at home.
After five years of being her caregiver, I couldn’t bear the emotional or financial costs alone any longer.
I was married to my wife for 30 years. In 2012 she was diagnosed with Huntington’s disease. It’s a hereditary fatal brain disorder with no cure or treatments. It slowly took her away mentally and physically. She was 47 at the time.
For five years I was her sole caregiver, washing her, dressing her, feeding her, etc. In 2017, I could go on no longer and had to place her in a long-term care facility. I was burnt out. Shortly after, I filed for divorce because the cost of her care was bankrupting me. If she was single her care was covered. I had no choice.
Since then I have met another lady with whom I am now in a serious relationship. I am 55 years old. My ex is not capable of understanding cognitively, so she does not know. My family says they support me. My ex’s family doesn’t. I felt I needed to move on in life, but I still visit my ex daily and ensure her needs are met. My son is an adult professional who seems to be struggling with my situation. The woman in my life is great and supports me fully in this, and also ensures I keep in contact with my ex. Did I do right by moving on?
I spent a lifetime counseling others before my diagnosis. Will I be able to take my own advice?
I have spent a good part of my life talking with people about the role of faith in the face of imminent death. Since I became an ordained Presbyterian minister in 1975, I have sat at countless bedsides, and occasionally even watched someone take their final breath. I recently wrote a small book, On Death, relating a lot of what I say to people in such times. But when, a little more than a month after that book was published, I was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, I was still caught unprepared.
On the way home from a conference of Asian Christians in Kuala Lumpur in February 2020, I developed an intestinal infection. A scan at the hospital showed what looked like enlarged lymph nodes in my abdomen: No cause for concern, but come back in three months just to check. My book was published. And then, while all of us in New York City were trying to protect ourselves from COVID-19, I learned that I already had an agent of death growing inside me.
New revelations show the CNN anchor betrayed his obligation to his viewers.
Andrew Cuomo’s resignation as governor of New York might have been a godsend for CNN. The network faced a nearly intractable conflict of interest: The governor was a major national figure, but his brother, Chris, was also one of CNN’s prime-time stars. Instead, the fallout from Andrew Cuomo’s departure has made Chris Cuomo’s position untenable. He should resign; if he doesn’t, CNN should sack him.
On Monday, New York Attorney General Letitia James, whose investigation into sexual-harassment complaints against the Democratic governor precipitated his August resignation, released new documents that show how Chris mixed his roles as brother and broadcaster. The documents show that he was engaged in passing information to a top aide to the governor, Melissa DeRosa, as his brother’s team scrambled to respond to accusations. “I have a lead on the wedding girl,” he texted DeRosa, referring to a woman who complained that Andrew had made an unwanted advance at a wedding.
“How to Build a Life” is a weekly column by Arthur Brooks, tackling questions of meaning and happiness. Click here to listen to his new podcast series on all things happiness, How to Build a Happy Life.
Everyone—even the most privileged among us—has circumstances they would like to change in their life. As the early sixth-century Roman philosopher Boethius put it, “One has abundant riches, but is shamed by his ignoble birth. Another is conspicuous for his nobility, but through the embarrassments of poverty would prefer to be obscure. A third, richly endowed with both, laments the loneliness of an unwedded life.”
Think about your own life and something causing you stress, anxiety, or sadness. For example, maybe you are struggling to find your job or career interesting and fulfilling. Or maybe you aren’t getting much out of your friendships, and feel lonely. How might you improve the situation? Your answer might be, “I should move, get a new job, and meet new people.” In other words, you should change the outside world to make it better for you.
Why is Hollywood still hiring this raging anti-Semite?
Every day, as dawn’s rosy fingers reach through my window, I arise and check in with Twitter, to see what fresh hell awaits. Generally, by about 6:30, I’ve been made furious by the outrage du jour. But recently, I experienced more of a sense of bemusement than ire, as I took in Deadline’s headline: “Mel Gibson in Talks to Direct Lethal Weapon 5.”
Gibson is a well-known Jew-hater (anti-Semite is too mild). His prejudices are well documented. So my question is, what does a guy have to do these days to get put on Hollywood’s no-fly list? I’m a character actor. I tend to take the jobs that come my way. But—and this hurts to write—you couldn’t pay me enough to work with Mel Gibson.
Now, I love the Lethal Weapon movies (at least the first few). And Danny Glover’s a gem. But Gibson? Yes, he’s a talented man. Many horrible people produce wonderful art. Put me down as an ardent fan of Roald Dahl, Pablo Picasso, and Edith Wharton; can’t get enough of what they’re selling. But these three had the good taste to die. That makes it a lot easier to enjoy their output. Gibson lives. And Tinseltown need not employ him further.