The GOP having decided to nominate a corrupt, liberal, New Yorker (did I say he was corrupt?), I left the party in May of 2016 (before he was nominated, but when it became obvious). As most of you know, I have been vocally anti-Trump since then, and over time I become anti-GOP as well (but even more paleoconservative). The degree to which the party is in thrall to the malevolent ex-President is stark, as the recent defenestration of the only Republican leader (Liz Cheney) to speak the truth about the November election and the January 6th insurrection demonstrates.
I recently had a long and tough conversation with someone I will refer to only as a “prominent Republican”. The Trump presidency and my disdain for the current instantiation of the GOP has created some political distance between us, and without going into the details of the entire chat, one question he/she asked of me is worth expounding on. The question went sorta like this: “Ok, let’s say the GOP just did what you wanted and ignored/minimized/othered Trump. What is your theory of victory? How does that make things better?”
Implicit in this question is the suggestion that the current relationship between the GOP and its ringmaster contributes to some fully operational theory of victory, a theory that goes something like “..try to keep him at arms length, win back the House and maybe the Senate in ‘22, and do our best to see that he isn’t a part of the 2024 election.” This is not a very good theory, but it is a theory. This person was genuinely interested in how MY approach can create victory. I laid out broad strokes in that conversation, but I will elaborate now.
The first thing I did was to take issue with the question. Some things are more important than “victory”, or the “tactics” associated with victory. Among these things are truth, principles, and loyalty to Constitutional oaths. The GOP that I belonged to for decades SEEMED to be a place where these were important, and the current brand is less attractive for having turned its back on them.
The plain truth is that a significant number of Americans don’t trust the judgement of the Republican Party anymore. They know what they saw. They know what they heard. And they simply want to distance themselves as soon as they can from the wreckage that was his Presidency. Here’s the thing…they aren’t wild about Joe Biden…they just cannot believe that the GOP hasn’t shaken Trump off like the booger he is.
So here’s my theory of victory. Ignore Trump. Put the November election behind you. Swallow the bad medicine that is the January 6th Commission because the party deserves it. Stop othering those who’ve told the truth about Trump (Cheney, Kinzinger).
Start to re-earn the trust of the people you drove away even as you return to the things you USED to do well—and that was providing conservative approaches to problem solving. Because here’s the thing…no matter how hard you try to reach these reachable swing voters, they aren’t going to support your program as long as you are the party of Trump. No matter how bad the policies are coming out of the Biden White House, these people figure it HAS to be better than the theater of the absurd we were treated to. Drop Trump. Make good policy arguments. That’s it. That’s the whole theory of victory in a nutshell. You might not like it, but it is at least as compelling as the one that desperate Republicans are clinging to now.
For those who say it will “depress the base”, I offer the following: the base was “depressed” before Trump and the GOP was killing it nationwide (Governors and state legislatures), and had majorities in both chambers of Congress.
Paul Ryan’s Theory of Victory Sounds Like Mine
I wrote the paragraphs above on Thursday afternoon 27 May. A little later in the day I came across this (well-timed) report about an upcoming speech Paul Ryan is going to make about where the GOP needs to go. I think Paul’s right.
Annual Call to Switch Memorial Day and Veterans Day
Over the weekend, we conducted our annual great shaming of those who, for some odd reason, do not commemorate Memorial Day in the fashion others deem appropriate. These keepers of all that is right and holy (I admit to having in the past been more doctrinaire on this) point to Memorial Day as a somber and reflective day, advising those who wish to enjoy themselves of the great sacrifices made for them by our honored war dead. Additionally, some patriotic Americans make the (gads!) mistake of thanking veterans or active duty for their service on Memorial Day.
I have an idea. It isn’t mine, but I’ve had it a long time and I repeat it every year. We should switch Memorial Day and Veterans Day. Memorial Day—somber, reflective, etc—is well timed to the 11th of November here in the northern hemisphere, where leaves have turned and fallen, the first frosts begin, and many of our allies celebrate something akin to Memorial Day. It is unlikely that there would be a great deal of frolicking to interfere with the solemnity, and the country could really turn its attention to the great sacrifices made.
Whereas—in late May, school is ending, summer is beginning, cookouts are proliferating, and the scolds go-a-scolding. This isn’t about a bad or flawed people (though God knows in many ways we are that), it is about a serious disconnect between all the signs the universe, our culture, and our history are sending us and this incredibly important holiday (Memorial Day) that is so cosmically mis-scheduled.
Etc.
I was talking to someone recently about college, specifically, my continuing love affair with mine. She’s always had a bit of contempt for my unbalanced love of all things UVA, but she is at least consistent, in that I don’t really ever hear much out of her about her school. Here point is this—you get a say in things, you get to claim a connection to—a school when you are a student there. When you leave, it belongs to the students and staff and faculty that are there now. Therefore, my fascination with UVA sports, my disgust at the frequent dives into performative woke-i-tude I see there, are in her view, ridiculous. This view is worthy of great scorn, but I did my best to show it due respect.
As I watched this game, on the edge of my seat for its entirety (except for when I was on the treadmill and was convinced I was going to fall and hit my head and die before knowing who would win), cheering at every goal WE scored, I thought how sad it was for this person not to have this in her life. The bond with the place, and everyone who has ever gone there—and in many cases, their parents and brothers and sisters who didn’t—is real.