In her first economic policy speech as the 2024 Democratic presidential nominee, Kamala Harris rightly criticized Donald Trump for favoring steep tariffs, saying her Republican opponent "wants to impose what is, in effect, a national sales tax on everyday products and basic necessities that we import from other countries." But in the same speech, Harris pitched a half-baked idea that is just as economically dubious, promising to crack down on "price gouging" by the grocery industry.
That proposal is so misguided that it provoked undisguised skepticism from mainstream news outlets such as CNN, the Associated Press, The New York Times, and The Washington Post, along with criticism by Democratic economists. It showed that Harris joins Trump in pushing populist prescriptions that would hurt consumers in the name of sticking it to supposed economic villains.
"If your opponent claims you're a 'communist,'" Post columnist Catherine Rampell suggested, "maybe don't start with an economic agenda that can (accurately) be labeled as federal price controls." Harvard economist Jason Furman, who chaired President Barack Obama's Council of Economic Advisers, was equally scathing.
"This is not sensible policy, and I think the biggest hope is that it ends up being a lot of rhetoric and no reality," Furman told the Times. "There's no upside here, and there is some downside."
That downside stems from any attempt to override market signals by dictating prices. High prices allocate goods to consumers who derive the greatest value from them, encourage producers to expand supply, and spur competition that helps bring prices down.
Without those signals, you get hoarding and shortages. This is not some airy-fairy theory; it reflects bitter experience since ancient times with interventions like the one Harris proposes.
Consider what happened when President Richard Nixon imposed wage and price controls in the 1970s. "Ranchers stopped shipping their cattle to the market, farmers drowned their chickens, and consumers emptied the shelves of supermarkets," Daniel Yergin and Joseph Stanislaw note in their 1998 book on the rise of free markets.
Or consider what happened more recently with eggs. Thanks to avian flu, Furman noted, "egg prices went up last year" because "there weren't as many eggs," but the high prices encouraged "more egg production." If federal regulators had tried to suppress egg prices, they would have short-circuited that market response.
Harris, of course, says she would target only unjustified price increases, the kind that amount to "illegal price gouging" by "opportunistic companies." But as she emphasizes, there currently is no such thing under federal law, and any attempt to define it would be plagued by subjectivity and a lack of relevant knowledge.
The fact that Harris pins the sharp grocery price inflation of recent years on corporate greed suggests that her judgment about such matters cannot be trusted. Economists generally rate other factors—including the war in Ukraine as well as pandemic-related supply disruptions, shifts in consumer demand, and stimulus spending—as much more important.
High profits, in any event, are another important signal that encourages investment and competition. By forbidding "excessive profits," Harris' proposed price policing would undermine the motivation they provide.
According to the most recent numbers, the annual inflation rate dropped below 3 percent as of July. With inflation cooling, this might seem like a strange time for Harris to resuscitate an idea that was already proving disastrous thousands of years ago. But as the Timesnotes, her message "polls well with swing voters."
The broad tariffs that Trump favors, which Harris condemns as "a national sales tax" that would "devastate Americans," also poll well in the abstract. But they are popular only until voters consider the consequences.
In a recent Cato Institute survey, for example, 62 percent of respondents favored a tariff on "imported blue jeans," but that number plummeted when they were asked to imagine the resulting price increases. Harris likewise is counting on voters who like what she says but do not contemplate what it would mean in practice.
On the first night of the 2024 Democratic National Convention (DNC), speakers assembled to make the case for Vice President Kamala Harris to be America's next president and to provide a glimpse of what policies she might pursue. Unfortunately, it's clear that industrial policy is likely to survive and thrive in a Harris administration, despite clear examples that giving public money to private companies carries significant risk.
Some speakers took shots at former President Donald Trump, with Shawn Fain, president of the United Auto Workers (UAW), invoking the closure of a General Motors (G.M.) plant in Lordstown, Ohio. G.M. shuttered the factory in March 2019 amid slowing sales; in July 2017, Trump had told supporters in Youngstown, "Don't move. Don't sell your house," because lost factory jobs would come back.
"Trump lied, and abandoned Lordstown," intoned the announcer of a video that played before Fain took the stage. "The G.M. factory in Lordstown did close, putting thousands of people out of work, because Donald Trump doesn't care about our communities."
"In 2023, who helped bring jobs back to Lordstown, Ohio?" Fain asked during his speech. "Kamala Harris!"
But it's worth noting that G.M. closed the factory just a decade after it received $60 million from the state of Ohio to operate the facility until at least 2039. When G.M. reneged on the deal barely 10 years later, Ohio chose to let the company keep $20 million.
Then between 2019 and 2023, the factory had another occupant: Lordstown Motors, an automaker that planned to build electric pickup trucks. The brand new company purchased the factory for $20 million after borrowing $40 million from G.M. Ohio officials, having not learned a lesson from the experience with G.M., gave Lordstown Motors $24.5 million in grants and tax credits.
And yet despite all the financial assistance, Lordstown Motors entered bankruptcy in June 2023.
"Today, tens of thousands of auto jobs are returning to the United States, thanks to the policies of the Biden-Harris administration," Fain said in a UAW video released last week. "That includes jobs in Lordstown, Ohio, where auto workers at Ultium Cells are now building batteries for General Motors."
Ultium is G.M.'s electric vehicle battery cell technology. "Ultium's Lordstown plant could qualify for tax credits worth more than $1 billion a year," according to a 2023 UAW report. And in 2022, the U.S. Department of Energy announced that it would loan the company $2.5 billion to build three factories, including the one in Ohio.
Ultium is also building a $2.6-billion factory in nearby Michigan, for which that state's government agreed to give the company $666 million. And Ultium was not the only company singled out at the convention.
"Trump talked big about bringing back manufacturing jobs, but you know who actually did it? President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris," New York Gov. Kathy Hochul said, moments after Fain spoke. "Look no further than the city of Syracuse, where a company called Micron is building a $100-billion microchip factory with union labor."
In October 2022, Micron pledged to spend $20 billion by the end of the decade to build what it deemed "the largest semiconductor fabrication facility in the history of the United States," signifying "the largest private investment in New York state history." The company further noted that it "intends to invest up to $100 billion over the next 20-plus years."
But the Biden administration agreed to award that company $6.1 billion in federal handouts for its Syracuse factory and one near Boise, Idaho. New York promised another $5.5 billion in state incentives.
Of course, it's entirely likely that these deals will be every bit as lucrative as promised: Micron alone promises that its Syracuse factory will "create nearly 50,000 New York jobs, including approximately 9,000 high paying Micron jobs." But at the time of this writing, Micron has a market cap of $118 billion, suggesting that it could've made the initial $20-billion investment without state and federal taxpayers picking up so much of the tab. Similarly, even though G.M. currently has a market cap of $52 billion and it has reneged on an economic development deal in the very recent past, it still continues to benefit from public cash.
With three more nights to go, the DNC will likely feature more policy proposals for a potential Harris administration. Unfortunately, the first night indicated that industrial policy is alive and well in the Democratic Party.
After all the talk of abortion rights, protecting democracy, and how "fun" Vice President Kamala Harris apparently is, the first night of the Democratic National Convention culminated with a celebration of President Joe Biden's four years in office.
Biden "recoveredallthosemillionsofjobsthat [Donald] Trumpwatchedslipaway," Sen. Dick Durbin (D–Ill.) declared. Biden "rebuilt the economy" after the pandemic put it "flat on its back," intoned Sen. Chris Coons (D–Conn.), a longtime Biden stan.
Biden himself put the cherry on top. "We'vehadone of the mostextraordinaryfouryearsofprogressever," the president said. "We gone from economic crisis to the strongest economy in the entire world," he claimed, pointing to job creation figures, economic growth, higher wages, and "inflation down, way down, and continuing to go down."
If so, someone should probably tell Vice President Kamala Harris about all that.
Just four days ago, Harris outlined plans for gigantic government interventions in the economy, including price controls. In what was billed as the first major policy speech of her hastily assembled campaign, Harris promised to implement the "first-ever federal ban on price gouging on food and groceries" and to take other actions to empower the federal government to "bring down costs." (There's been some debate in the days since her speech about whether it is fair to say Harris has called for price controls, but economist Brian Albretch has laid out clearly why she in fact did, writing that "any policy that gives the government the power to decide what price increases are 'fair' or 'unfair' is effectively a price control system. It doesn't matter if you call it 'anti-gouging,' 'fair pricing,' or 'consumer protection'—the effect is the same. When bureaucrats, not markets, determine acceptable prices, we're dealing with price controls.")
There has been a lot written already about why price controls are a terrible idea, and more will be written in the days ahead. For now, let's take a moment to appreciate the head-spinning logic that Biden and Harris are asking voters to accept: that America's economy is stronger than ever—but is also in need of radical government action to substitute the wisdom of bureaucrats for the market's power to determine prices.
Price controls are not a policy people reach for when things are going great. Governors don't go around threatening businesses with prosecution for price gouging when there's not a hurricane or other natural disaster happening. The Soviet Union didn't implement price controls because everyone was wealthy and well-fed. Neither did Venezuela.
But that's what Harris doing. On Friday, she promised "harsh penalties" on businesses that engage in whatever she (or her administration) determines to be "price gouging" or the collection of "excessive" profits—even though her campaign has yet to explain how she would determine those things.
Harris' promise to combat high grocery prices was made just hours after the White House Chief Economic Advisor Jared Bernstein was standing in front of reporters and touting how low grocery price inflation has been: "This morning, it was about 1 percent year over year," he said at a press briefing on Wednesday. "And there are a number of items within there where we actually have deflation, falling prices of some groceries."
Did someone tell Harris?
In part, this confusion probably stems from the unusual situation that Harris' campaign finds itself. She is, for all intents and purposes, the incumbent candidate in the race, despite not being the sitting president. And she's running against another quasi-incumbent in former President Donald Trump. Typically, incumbents try to push the message that everything is going well, or at least getting better, while challengers say everything sucks and promise to make it better.
With voters discontented with the state of the economy, both Trump and Harris are trying to distance themselves from the mess they each had a hand in creating. But Democrats can't go all-in on "everything sucks" for the obvious reason that Biden, the actual incumbent, is a Democrat.
The actual economic signals are a mixed bag right now. Unemployment has ticked up, raising fears of a possible recession on the horizon. High interest rates have replaced high inflation, which means many Americans are still feeling a squeeze on their personal finances. Biden doesn't deserve the applause he's getting, but there's also not a crisis that would demand the sort of radical actions Harris is proposing, even if the actions she's proposing really worked.
And of course, those high prices are largely the fault of government overspending (backed by heavy borrowing) during and after the pandemic. If Harris wants to put controls on something that would actually provide relief to Americans, she should aim to restrict government borrowing rather than grocery store prices.
Instead, it looks like Democrats have settled on the idea that Biden saved the economy and now Harris is here to clean up the mess—and they're just hoping no one thinks too hard about it.
By the way, you don't have to break your brain trying to make sense of this. It's far easier simply to remember that presidents don't run the economy and shouldn't get credit and/or blame for every single economic indicator. (Though they can certainly influence events, as we'll see if Harris gets her way and implements some form of federal price controls.)
But if nothing else, this Democratic cognitive dissonance creates a fun game for the next three nights of the convention: Will the speakers keep telling us that America's economy is stronger than ever, or that the country is in a crisis and Harris needs to be our price-setter-in-chief?
Full disclosure: I got into a little physical altercation yesterday with the Chicago police and lost my notepad in the scuffle. We'll get to that, but for now please forgive any errors in the timeline.
The first march organized by the March for the Democratic National Convention was set to take off from Chicago's Union Park at 1 p.m. Reporters were invited to get there at 7 a.m; I have no idea if any did, but at 10:30 a.m. a friend texted to say, "Union Park right now is very underwhelming." This seemed to be the consensus going in; that the anticipated 30,000 marchers would come nowhere near, and that the press would be overrepresented, which turned out to be the case—while reporting I ran into seven journalists in I know, when the average is about zero. But some of the protesters were also following the trend of pasting "PRESS" across their chests. A young woman I met on the bus around noon did the same. When I asked who she was reporting for, she looked confused; it was just a shirt. Okay, but why?
(Nancy Rommelmann)
Those entering Union Park were handed a gazillion pamphlets with slogans like "NO WAR BUT CLASS WAR SMASH IMPERIALISM WITH COMMUNIST REVOLUTION," "12 ESSENTIAL FACTS FOR UNDERSTANDING THE CURRENT ISRAEL-GAZA CONFLICT," "WORKERS STRIKE BACK, WHEN WE FIGHT—WE CAN WIN," and "NEITHER PARTY REPRESENTS THE WORKING CLASS—CLASS WAR 2024,"—the all-cap emphasis conveying the commitment of the pamphlet distributors. Nearly everyone at the rally turned out to be in their 20s, dressed in today's radical chic—keffiyeh as cape, keffiyeh as neck scarf, keffiyeh as headwrap. There were a few women in full Handmaid's Tale regalia, many young people in pro-Socialist red, and one dude wearing, refreshingly, an old Star Wars t-shirt. There was no police presence inside the park proper, but just outside there were at least 100 officers, half of them on bicycles, all of them waiting in the shade for something to happen. When I asked whether they'd be accompanying the marchers on their 1.1-mile city-approved route, I was given two short nods. (Nancy Rommelmann)
Before any marching began, there were speeches from the stage—speeches about genocide in Palestine, abortion, student debt, colonial settlers, Black Lives Matter, and cops being bastards. On and on it went, past 1 p.m.; the chanting the speakers requested was rarely very chanty. It was hot and people were thirsty and the line for the porta-potties stretched over 200 people long.
"Can someone help me spread this out so it can be seen by the helicopter?" asked a young man, unfurling a 50-foot sheet painted with the words, "LOOK UP 'NAKBA.'"
(Nancy Rommelmann)
"Would you like to carry a sign?" asked another young man, trying to offload one of the 400 or so signs strewn across the field. The sign-makers had been industrious, affixing emphatic messages like "STOP THE CRIME—FREE THEM ALL" and "GENOCIDE JOE'S LEGACY: BUTCHER OF GAZA" to wooden stakes. The problem was, there weren't nearly enough takers. How many people did the guy next to me estimate were actually here?
"Five hundred," he said, after a beat, just before someone on stage shouted into the microphone how great it was to see 15,000 people in attendance. The guy adjusted his estimate to 1,500, which I'd say was about right.
(Nancy Rommelmann)
What they lacked in numbers they made up for in enthusiasm, waving Palestinian flags, communist flags, anarchist flags, "land back" flags, and a flag whose exact origin the person holding it said he did not really know. Someone mentioned they'd seen some Israeli flags earlier but I didn't see any. As for American flags, I saw exactly one, carried by a veteran named Shawn, who said he had not liked seeing American flags burned during Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu's visit to Congress.
"I think that's greatly deplorable," he said, as several young men with their faces covered moved close to him. But when they noticed that several members of the press also wanted to talk with the one dude carrying an American flag, they backed off.
"Earlier they were saying derogatory things towards me like, 'get that shit out of here. What the fuck's wrong with you?'" he said. "But at the end of the day, nobody's going to intimidate me. Nobody's going to prevent me from voicing my opinion."
(Nancy Rommelmann)
If there was a similarity in the way the crowd looked and behaved, their many and multiple demands were perhaps what gave the gathering a lack of cohesion and group energy. That changed at 2:02 p.m., when it was announced that there was a special guest speaker.
However you feel about independent presidential candidate Cornel West, you would have been as energized by his 5-minute speech. He roared and he cooed, talking about "our profound love for our Palestinian brothers and sisters" and how we must extend that profound love to all our brothers and sisters. It was the adrenaline shot everyone needed to get through the next hour. With the bike police edging closer, the marchers funneled out of the park and into the streets. Messages were shouted into bullhorns, girls danced, boys drummed— they were on the move to Park 578 a mile away. The sun was still shining and the press—there must have been one for every three marchers—walked on the sidewalks. Between them and the marchers were the bike police, pushing their bikes in formation, and astride yellow-vested "safety team" members, who kept themselves between the marchers and the police. It was all very choreographed, and one would not be faulted for thinking that this whole thing would go off without a hitch.
But of course, there would be a hitch, and it came in the form of young men with their heads and faces covered. Though they may have had no affiliation with them, they marched beneath an Anarcho-brat flag and a People's Defense Units (YPG) flag, representing the Kurdish militant group in Syria. A colleague mentioned he'd seen maybe eight of the men trying to start something earlier but they had not gained purchase, the other marchers not wanting to be part of whatever mayhem they might want to commit. But now we were at the mouth of Park 578, the turnaround spot for marchers and the closest point to the United Center, where the DNC was taking place.
"That way!" one of the young men shouted, pointing toward the United Center, trying to get the group, which had grown to maybe 15 men, to make a break for the tall barrier fences. It was not going to happen—not with the cops forming a triple-line barrier of bikes and other marchers yelling for the YPG brats to stop, shouting that the march had been planned for nearly a year! It was supposed to be peaceful! Stop fucking it up! At least that's what I imagined the girl in the keffiyeh was yelling at the young men, her voice so hoarse with emotion I could not make out the words.
My colleague and I tried to interview the young men, but they had the same response to every question: "We don't talk to media." It's a catchall phrase common among young protesters, the eyes above their masks growing not bolder but shakier with each iteration. You could see them thinking it was better to stonewall than risk having one's responses scrutinized and memorialized.
But this is not always the case! As I would find ten minutes later, when some of the protesters had had enough of longingly looking at the United Center and decided to breach an exterior fence. Pop pop clang, down went the barriers, in went maybe 75 protesters. Busting shit down was an exciting change, if entirely predictable, meanwhile, a gentler strain of protesters, mostly women, were shouting from the other side, "Come back!" It was time to march back to Union Park, they said. They did not like the risks people were taking, and they were not going to do their many causes any good.
I followed the protesters over the fence.
"Come on everybody! Come on!" shouted a tall lanky guy all in black, with a garbage can lid painted with the anarchist A strapped to his back. What was he wanting everyone to do?
(Nancy Rommelmann)
"I want to get all the way inside the DNC!" he said, pointing toward the United Center. "I mean what are we doing here? Isn't this what we came here to do?"
Maybe not everybody; maybe not the 70-year-old lady peace activist who I'd watch gasp as the fence came down. Maybe this kind of bravado was not for her.
"I've seen 70-year-olds do it!" he said. "We can do it if we do it together. If we can dream it, we can do it!"
He was clanging his garbage can lid when someone shouted, "Cops on all sides!" We turned toward the phalanx of blue uniforms, in the jubilation no one had seen them form a walking line, or I hadn't seen it. Shouts of "Nazi motherfuckers" and "Fuck you!" lasted maybe 30 seconds before the cops were on us. I did my best to duck into a little alcove in the fencing. Yeah, that didn't work.
"Move it! Move it!" cops shouted, as people fell down or were grabbed; when they were variously combative or trying to flee.
"You're in a restricted area!" an officer shouted at me. Another prodded me with her nightstick.
"Don't hurt her!" a protester shouted, which I thought was kind of adorable and which I caught on video, just before finding a small egress to the other side. Two men pulled me through—thanks guys—and into the waiting path of another journalist pal calmly taking in the proceedings.
"Hello Nancy," he said, adding that he thought things were about to calm down—and they did. The bulk of protesters marched back to Union Park, perhaps unaware of the side streets lined with hundreds of waiting officers, who (I'm told) were instructed to pull down their face shields, in case they needed them. On this night, they did not.
I cannot get enough of the Democratic National Convention vasectomy van: Imagine, in an election where, thus far, one party has positioned itself as pro-family—to the point where "childless cat ladies" have become a focal point, brought to the fore by vice-presidential contender J.D. Vance's catty, mean-spirited cable news comments—the other party is parking vasectomy and abortion vans outside of the convention.
Technically, it's Planned Parenthood Great Rivers doing it, making reproductive rights—and the Republican Party's attack on them—a focal point of this convention. But Democrats are, more broadly, all over the place this first night of the DNC, as if they can't quite figure out what they're all about or where they want to go, whether they're the party of joyor a party that just dealt with a succession crisis, or a party that's riven by the Israel-Hamas conflict or a party that stands in defiance of purported Republican attacks on essential freedoms.
Consider the new ad, unveiled by Vice President Kamala Harris' presidential campaign:
But such an ad assumes Americans have short memories. Ones that forget all the regulations Democrats have imposed that have driven up housing costs. Ones that forget how people were not enjoying freedom when they were shut inside their homes during the COVID-19 pandemic, or forced to stay home from school and church, by blue-staters. Ones that forget the last decade of (Democrat-enforced) culture war language policing and hypersensitivity to all manner of grievance. Democrats aren't really the party of freedom, they're the party of dictating, in ways big and small, how you live, either for your own good or the greater good, as they define it.
What exactly are they for? The first night of the DNC was a good reminder of the party's schizophrenia. New York Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez's (D–N.Y.) speech was excellent, proving that they have at least one promising young talent waiting in the wings. Formerly an outsider given a paltry 90-second speaking slot, Ocasio-Cortez has earned her spot as a Democratic Party mainstay, a primetime speaker whose name is chanted by an adoring arena. (This undeniable charisma is bad for the rest of us, mind you, as Ocasio-Cortez is economically illiterate and embraces Bernie Sanders-style socialism.)
At times, they veered away from light-touch diversity—a raft of speakers from all different backgrounds—and toward more explicit identity politics. Hillary Clinton's speech was all about shattering the glass ceiling. Democratic National Committee Chair Jaime Harrison emphasized that a "black convention chair and a black D.N.C. chair lead us in nominating a black and [Asian American and Pacific Islander] woman to be the next president," saying that "this election is about every little boy inspired by a party chair who looks like them, and every little girl who will finally see a president who looks like her." (I highly doubt young children are paying attention to the party chair.)
This emphasis—on being a candidate of firsts, on the "I'm with her" mentality—is especially interesting because it's one Harris has steered away from, ostensibly learning from the mistakes of Clinton's failed 2016 run. Ocasio-Cortez directly inverted this emphasis in her speech, shifting from voters being with the candidate to the candidate being with the voters. "If you are a working parent trying to afford rent and childcare, Kamala is for you," said Ocasio-Cortez. "If you are a senior who has to go back to work because your retirement didn't stretch far enough, Kamala is for you. If you're an immigrant family just starting your American story, Kamala is for you."
Everyone who covered 2016 will overthink that race forever, but AOC's "Kamala is for you" sounds like the inversion of "I'm with her."
Oh, and President Joe Biden also spoke. He didn't really say much of note. It was fine. But the fanfare was…aggressive, thanking Biden constantly for his service, for his leadership, for everything. Also, implicitly, for stepping aside and putting the presidency back in play.
The shenanigans also turned destructive: Outside of the security perimeter, protesters—a smaller turnout than was expected—succeeded at tearing down gates and fencing.
Last vid of the day. Two funny things: the protesters saying to the cops, "Don't hurt her!" and, once I wriggled out of the fencing (with the help of two dudes pulling me), who is standing there cool as a cucumber saying, "Hello Nancy" but @mcmoynihan. Hello from Chicago! pic.twitter.com/vjhFdnREj9
Group of protesters with their backs turned to Biden and hands over their mouths. They're quiet. So far unmolested by officials or security. pic.twitter.com/VuKcwc1Kzc
It remains to be seen how much trouble the protesters will cause, and how the situation in Gaza will be discussed on the main stage, but the protests outside were a decidedly inauspicious start.
Scenes from New York: Why does 3.5 grams of weed, purchased legally, cost $60 in New York, while unlicensed bodegas are selling for $40? Some of it also has to do with the federal, state, and local taxes (including 13 percent sales tax upon purchase) that must be forked over by dispensaries, as well as the security systems they must put in place to keep their wares safe. They're also trying to recoup the costs of legal fees and securing expensive licenses to operate legally.
Basically, everywhere a legit entrepreneur turns, the state has made it quite expensive for them to simply open up a cannabis business. And a big chunk of that cost gets passed down to the consumer.
QUICK HITS
"Democrats begin their four-day national convention Monday in the city that perhaps best exemplifies the chasm between their party's dreamy policy rhetoric and grim real-world results," writesReason's Matt Welch. "As a direct result of one-party misrule (there are zero Republicans on the 50-seat City Council), Chicago's tax base is decreasing, not increasing. The population has declined for nine consecutive years, is shrinking by an annual rate of 1 percent, and is at its lowest point in more than a century."
"US job growth in the year through March was likely far less robust than initially estimated, which risks fueling concerns that the Federal Reserve is falling further behind the curve to lower interest rates," reportsBloomberg.
Protests are still happening in Venezuela, where Nicolas Maduro has wrongly declared himself victorious in the latest presidential election (and refused to release results corroborating the outcome).
On Friday, The San Francisco Standard published a piece titled "How ex-liberal billionaires Ben and Felicia Horowitz made a MAGA U-turn," which essentially spends a lot of words grappling with the idea that Felicia, a black woman, could not possibly authentically support former President Donald Trump, and that there must be some kind of mental derangement at play:
In this week's TheReason Roundtable, editors Peter Suderman,Katherine Mangu-Ward, and Nick Gillespie welcome special guest Ben Dreyfuss onto the pod ahead of this week's Democratic National Convention in Chicago to talk about Kamala Harris' truly terrible economic policy proposals.
02:48—Dreyfuss' YIMBY conversion thanks to Reason
13:20—Harris drops some lousy economic policy ideas.
Send your questions to roundtable@reason.com. Be sure to include your social media handle and the correct pronunciation of your name.
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Depending on how you feel about protesters, there's good news or bad news about the estimated number expected to converge on Chicago this week for the 2024 Democratic National Convention: 30,000. Either way, you would not be faulted for thinking the number is possibly aspirational, based on the fewer than 50 who showed up yesterday for an outdoor event and press conference organized by theCoalition to March on the Democratic National Convention.
(March on the DNC 2024; Nancy Rommelmann)
"Almost 270 organizations from across the U.S. have joined the Coalition to March on the DNC. And tens of thousands will be out on the streets starting tomorrow," Hatem Abudayyeh, coalition spokesperson and U.S. Palestinian Community Network national chair, told the assembled, who politely took notes and asked him to repeat the marching schedule. They nodded in commiseration at the city's "approved march route," a 1.1-mile stretch that threatened to become a human parking lot and did not take marchers past the United Center, where the DNC is taking place.
"Which means that the thousands do not get their First Amendment rights upheld," he said. "They do not get to be within sight and sound [of United Center] to say, end Israeli occupation, end U.S. aid for Israel, end U.S. support of the genocide."
Abudayyeh vowed to keep pressure on the city until the very last minute, hoping that after months of legal wrangling, it would allow the 2.4-mile route they had originally hoped for. It sounded rather self-limiting and not perhaps in the spirit of the protests that have roiled the country since October 7, a refashioning perhaps of rage into something potentially more politically expedient.
(Nancy Rommelman; Google Maps)
There was no rage at yesterday's event, no black hoodies or keffiyeh-shrouded faces, no shouting or snapping when Faayani Aboma Mijana, a spokesperson for the coalition, cited the "horrific genocide of Palestinians that's being aided and abetted by the Democratic leadership and its representatives, Genocide Joe Biden, Killer Kamala Harris, Baby Killer Blinken." Even when Mijana enjoined the crowd to chant "From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free," the response was muted.
Maybe it was activism fatigue. Maybe the long run-up to the convention—the march had been in the planning stages since before October 7—had sapped some spontaneity. Maybe the multifariousness of those looking to coalesce under the coalition's umbrella—Abudayyeh mentioned "the Black Liberation Movement and the Immigrant Rights Movement and the Women's Rights Movement and the LGBTQ Movement and the Workers' Rights Movement and the Reproductive Rights Movement"—rendered the movement more PTA, less punk rock.
(Nancy Rommelmann)
Not that the event was without anger. Mijana, an organizer also for the Chicago Alliance Against Racist and Political Repression, was especially critical of the Chicago Police Department, claiming that "the same Israeli occupation forces that are committing the genocide in Gaza, train police departments like the Chicago Police Department, who then implement the offensive tactics they learn onto our communities."
Still, no one anticipated any violence and certainly would not be participating in it. "We intend to have a family-friendly, peaceful march," Mijana told me. "That's why we're fighting for the permits, because we know that will keep the police away from us and allow us to march on our own with our own people."
But any movement of size creates a collective effervescence that can spill over and attract people outside the cause, including bad actors and those seeking a perverse type of heroism. This was evident when James Alex Fields Jr. drove his car into a group of counter-protesters during a 2017 "Unite the Right" protest in Charlottesville, killing Heather Heyer, and when Michael Reinoehl, in an effort to prove his commitment to Black Lives Matter, shot Jay Danielson point blank during a 2020 protest in Portland.
This suggests DNC protesters might welcome some police protection, if only for themselves.
"I'm from Minneapolis, so I know a little something about some mayhem," said Jess Sundin, of the Twin Cities Coalition for Justice. "Every time I've seen that on any significant scale, it's been police attacking demonstrators, is what starts it. I am not trying to be dismissive, but my experience is that if the police refrain from using violence against the demonstration, we won't see any sort of significant no mayhem, no significant outbreaks of drama."
Perhaps. And if Sunday's event was a foretaste, the protests will be disciplined, even mild. But I wouldn't count on it.
"What we're doing in terms of the [first-time homebuyer] tax credits, we know that there's a great return on investment," Harris asserted in Moon Township, Pennsylvania. "When we increase home ownership in America, what that means in terms of increasing the tax base, not to mention property tax base, what that does to fund schools—again, return on investment. I think it's a mistake for any person who talks about public policy to not critically evaluate how you measure the return on investment. When you are strengthening neighborhoods, strengthening communities, and in particular the economies of those communities, and investing in a broad-based economy, everybody benefits, and it pays for itself in that way."
Italics added, to emphasize America's ongoing mistakes.
Democrats begin their four-day national convention Monday in the city that perhaps best exemplifies the chasm between their party's dreamy policy rhetoric and grim real-world results. As a direct result of one-party misrule (there are zero Republicans on the 50-seat City Council), Chicago's tax base is decreasing, not increasing. The population has declined for nine consecutive years, is shrinking by an annual rate of 1 percent, and is at its lowest point in more than a century.
Illinois, where Democrats control the governorship and a two-thirds majority of the legislature, lost "an estimated $3.6 billion in income tax revenue in 2022 alone, a year the net loss of 87,000 residents subtracted $9.8 billion in adjusted gross income," syndicated columnist and Illinois native George Will observed last week. "In the past six years, $47.5 billion [adjusted gross income] has left….Illinois leads the nation in net losses of households making 200,000 or more."
None of these or other grisly Windy City stats—including the murders and the pension liabilities—are obscure. As Illinois Policy Institute Vice President Austin Berg put it Saturday night at a live taping of the Fifth Column podcast, "I believe Chicago is the greatest American city, and the worst-governed American city."
The bigger mystery has been why the Democratic Party would choose such a metaphorically dicey backdrop. But an answer begins to suggest itself amid the banal dystopia of the DNC's endless security checkpoints, concrete barriers, and battalions of police officers separating America's political class from its serfs. Democrats chose Chicago for a similar reason that Harris chose a running mate with a particularly awful record during the pandemic- and riot-scarred year of 2020: Because they, like their candidate, know that, contra Harris' assertion Sunday in Pennsylvania, the people who talk about policy—whether politician, journalist, or political consumer—almost never "critically evaluate how you measure the return on investment."
If professional political conversation was tethered even loosely to policy results, you might expect one or maybe even two of the journalists dutifully collecting their DNC press credentials at the colossal (and colossally empty) McCormick Place convention center to ask a follow-up question about what their eyeballs cannot miss. How in the world can a city in terminal financial crisis not just support the country's largest convention-center complex during a time of market oversupply and conventioneering decline, but actually keep expanding the damn thing?
The DNC's second major site (behind the United Center, which is hosting what you watch on television), "has been a political money pit for nearly 60 years," Berg wrote in 2019. Built in 1960, rebuilt after a 1967 fire, then expanded in 1986, 1997, 2007, and 2017, McCormick Place looks this week like the cover of a Mike Davis book—extensive security barricades and fencing separating the nearby poors from a depopulated, dully corporate expanse.
"Over and over, Chicago and Illinois public officials and a roster of consultants promised that a bigger McCormick Place would yield hundreds of thousands of new convention attendees and billions in new spending and public revenues," Heywood Sanders wrote in his 2014 book Convention Center Follies. "Those repeated promises have proved false, the consultant projections unmet."
Instead, like so many other Chicago governance failures, the unmet promises are covered over with taxes—on hotel room stays, restaurants, car rentals. In completely related news, a 2024 Wallet Hub study of effective state/local tax burden per median U.S. household income ranked Illinois dead last.
But the 2024 campaign is famously more about "vibes" than anything related to governance. The Harris/Walz campaign website still does not have a policy page (though the party did on Sunday release a draft platform). "I have not had a single constituent in El Paso or a single person on the road try to get very specific policy details from me," Harris campaign co-chair Rep. Veronica Escobar (D–Texas) toldThe New York Times. You're going to have to vote for a Harris administration to see what's in it.
Republican nominee Donald Trump famously did not even update the 2016 GOP platform when he ran unsuccessfully in 2020, suggesting that America has a supply problem when it comes to national politicians and policy accountability.
But don't sleep on demand. Trump fans love his boorish, bizarre, and often funny jokes, so he keeps making cracks about Kamala Harris' looks and Montana Sen. John Tester's fat stomach rather than stay as focused on issues as his advisors would prefer. Harris is getting cheered on by a subset of journalists for not subjecting herself to any kind of public cross-examination. And the residents of Chicago, looking upon both the civic dysfunction and the city's undeniable energy and charm, just keep on voting for more Democrats.
Americans may be getting precisely what they want out of politics in 2024. Good and hard.
Gird your loins, it's DNC time: The Democratic National Convention starts today in Chicago, and the Israel/Palestine-related tensions that have been coursing through the left since October 7 may very well come to a head this week.
Tens of thousands of protesters are expected to set up right outside of security to protest the party's support of Israel; presumptive nominee Kamala Harris' husband, Doug Emhoff, who is Jewish, is expected to speak about Judaism on stage; and, just like during the Republican National Convention, some families of hostages taken by Hamas will plead onstage for the return of their loved ones.
Some delegates who eschewed voting for Kamala Harris, calling themselves the Uncommitteds, have broken from the party pick precisely because they do not support U.S. support for Israel in the Gaza war. The Uncommitted factor is especially relevant to Michigan, a swing state with a large Middle Eastern population, and Democratic officials have been attempting to make inroads with the vocal disgruntled in recent weeks; they want a DNC that signals unity, and the likelihood that massive protests will be taking place just outside the gates undermines this.
"The key question for Democrats this week is whether the demonstrators represent a meaningful group of voters who could swing the election in November, or if they are outliers on the left who should be resisted in an appeal to the center," sums upThe New York Times.
Hamas rejects latest ceasefire proposal: On Sunday, following days of tense negotiating and Secretary of State Antony Blinken shlepping to Israel believing an agreement was imminent, Hamas rejected a proposed ceasefire deal with Israel.
"After being briefed by the mediators about what happened in the last round of talks in Doha, we once again came to the conclusion that Netanyahu is still putting obstacles in the way of reaching an agreement, and is setting new conditions and demands with the aim of undermining the mediators' efforts and prolonging the war," declared Hamas in a statement, adding that the U.S.-brokered ceasefire "aligns with" Israel's demands.
At issue is the fact that the ceasefire did not force full a Israeli withdrawal from the entirety of the Gaza Strip. Israel had proposed maintaining a large security presence on the border between Egypt and Gaza, as well as maintaining control over the Netzarim Corridor, which divides the Gaza Strip's north from its south.
Blinken has called this round of negotiations a "decisive moment" for Israel and Hamas. In the last few weeks, Iran and its proxies, including Hezbollah, have vowed to strike Israel in retaliation for its July assassinations of Hezbollah official Fuad Shukr in Beirut and Hamas leader Ismail Haniyeh in Tehran. Thus far, wider war has been staved off, but it's unclear for how much longer that will last; the fact that negotiations were in progress may have played a contributing role. Now that may not be so.
Scenes from New York: One of the New York City hospital systems, Northwell Health, is starting a studio to make its own movie and TV shows following the success of the Netflix show Lenox Hill, which followed doctors and patients within the system. But just a few years ago, NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital/Weill Cornell Medical Center had to pay out a more than $2 million settlement to federal regulators for failing to protect patient privacy when a television crew was filming inside the hospital. Expect more issues, both ethical and legal, to arise.
QUICK HITS
"The ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach, which account for roughly a third of all US container imports, had their third-strongest month ever in July, just shy of an all-time high reached in May 2021. Back then, a wave of inbound consumer goods caused supply bottlenecks on land and a queue of cargo ships waiting for a berth offshore was getting longer by the day," reportsBloomberg. "Demand now is driven by retailers and other importers that are stocking up ahead of US tariffs on Chinese goods and a possible strike by a large group of American dockworkers—adding to the usual frenzy of pre-holiday ordering that occurs this time of year."
Planned Parenthood Great Rivers is offering free vasectomies and abortions for DNC attendees at a van near the convention center, which seems a little self-defeating if the idea is to grow your political party.
Also in DNC abortion news: Some protesters have dressed up as abortion pills.
Officials in Georgia "like the prosperity that could come with making [electric vehicles], but not the California-style mandates that prop them up. They like the jobs but agree with many of their voters who think electric vehicles are a sheet metal-clad tenet of the Democrats' woke ideology," reportsPolitico.
Donald Trump's running mate, J.D. Vance, responded this weekend to news of a Kamala Harris poll bump by saying the "media uses fake polls."
When you've caused a problem, deflect! At least, that seems to be the strategy of Vice President and Democratic presidential candidate Kamala Harris, who spent the last several years as part of an administration that presided over a growing mismatch between Americans' pay and the cost of living. Rather than take responsibility for the decline of the dollar's purchasing power, she blames businesses that were forced to raise prices as a result. And she wants to fix the problem she helped cause by restricting those prices, never mind the inevitable consequences for the availability of goods and services.
Wait, I Thought This Was an Economy To Be Proud Of?
First though, let's journey back to 2023 when Harris claimed to be proud of the state of the economy.
"That is called Bidenomics, and we are very proud of Bidenomics," she insisted last August in a speech where she also trumpeted, "the unemployment rate is near its lowest level in over half a century. Wages are up. Inflation has fallen 12 months in a row."
Now though, the vice president and would-be chief executive huffs, "When I am President, it will be a day one priority to bring down prices. I'll take on big corporations that engage in illegal price gouging and corporate landlords that unfairly raise rents on working families."
And that's exactly what she proposed in her speech last week which recognized concerns over the cost of living and included a host of schemes for greater government involvement in the economy, including "the first ever federal ban on price gouging on food" amidst worries over grocery bills.
It's nice that Harris recognized Americans' concerns over making ends meet. Less nice, though, was pretending that cost concerns are a result of mean corporations rather than bad policy. Also not so nice is her insistence on doubling down on bad policy with even worse cost controls.
Let's emphasize that there's little doubt government policy is at the root of inflation.
Government Officials Should Get the Blame for Those High Prices
"Inflation comes when aggregate demand exceeds aggregate supply," wrote economist John Cochrane of the Hoover Institution and the Cato Institute in a March piece for the International Monetary Fund. "The source of demand is not hard to find: in response to the pandemic's dislocations, the US government sent about $5 trillion in checks to people and businesses, $3 trillion of it newly printed money, with no plans for repayment."
"Fiscal stimulus boosted the consumption of goods without any noticeable impact on production, increasing excess demand pressures in good markets," admitted the Federal Reserve Board of Governors as early as July 2022. "As a result, fiscal support contributed to price tensions."
Even Jim Tankersley and Jeanna Smialek of The New York Times, a paper which almost reflexively supports Democrats, concede "most economists" say that factors including "snarled supply chains, a sudden shift in consumer buying patterns, and the increased customer demand fueled by stimulus from the government and low rates from the Federal Reserve…are far more responsible than corporate behavior for the rise in prices."
And the rise in prices is substantial. The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistic's inflation calculator shows that in July 2024, it took $120.25 to buy what $100 purchased in January 2021 when Joe Biden and Kamala Harris took office. That's on average; some sectors have seen greater or lesser inflation.
What Price Gouging?
Especially when it comes to groceries, it's difficult to make a case for "price gouging." A New York University Stern School of Business annual survey shows a net profit margin of 1.18 percent for retail grocery stores last year. That's down a bit from when the Biden administration took office (you can check annual data here). Kroger, the industry giant that is frequently portrayed as a greedy bogeyman, recently enjoyed a slightly higher net profit margin of 1.43 percent; over the last 15 years, its profits briefly reached as high as 3.02 percent in 2018. (The Cato Institute's Scott Lincicome does a good dive into food-industry economics on X.)
So much for Harris's deflection. But then there's her scheme for price controls to address the higher prices brought by government policy. Such controls have such a well-documented track record that they heap stupidity onto Harris's dishonesty.
A History of Price Control Failures
In 2022, when inflation was surging and the dollar's declining purchasing power had many Americans looking for the sort of "solutions" that Harris now offers, Federal Reserve Bank of St. Louis economist Christopher J. Neely pointed out that schemes for government-imposed price controls date back to the Code of Hammurabi and "have costs whose severity depends on the broadness of the control and the degree to which it changes the price from the free-market price."
Free market prices, he emphasized, "allocate scarce goods and services to buyers who are most willing and able to pay for them" and "signal that a good is valued and that producers can profit by increasing the quantity supplied." In the absence of such allocation and signals, you get shortages of goods and services. With grocery stores, that means empty shelves—little to buy at the controlled prices.
There's more to it than that. Neely pointed out that you also get cheapened goods to reduce production costs, gamesmanship to get around rules, and black markets that entirely defy the law. He recommended that "price controls should stay in the history books."
The Washington Post editorial board, usually as protective of Democrats as the Times, agrees. It pointed out that Harris didn't define what constituted the "excessive" profits she wanted to target and that "thankfully, this gambit by Ms. Harris has been met with almost instant skepticism, with many critics citing President Richard M. Nixon's failed price controls from the 1970s."
From the Code of Hammurabi to former President Nixon, with a detour for the Roman Emperor Diocletian—who, economist John Cochrane notes, torpedoed production and trade with price restrictions—such controls have been irresistible for government officials. That's because bad economics all too often makes for good—or, at least, effective—public relations. People who tell pollsters they think corporations are raking in 36 percent profits (the real average across industries is closer to 8 percent) can be convinced by clever politicians that they're being ripped off and need government intervention.
What politicians won't admit is that it's their own policies that put the public in distress to begin with, and that their latest schemes, if implemented, will make matters worse.
Vice President Kamala Harris is expected to announce her running mate next week. She is reportedly considering several governors who theoretically appeal to moderate voters in the swing states: Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro, Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz, and Kentucky Gov. Andy Beshear. Arizona Sen. Mark Kelly and Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg are also in the mix.
Which of these individuals would be best from a libertarian perspective is not as clear cut as it was on the Republican side, where North Dakota Gov. Doug Burgum was obviously better than the alternatives. (Unfortunately, former President Donald Trump selected Ohio Sen. J.D. Vance, whose distinguishing feature is his contempt for libertarian economic policies.) Nevertheless, it's possible to parse them.
First, the national figures. Unlike the other names on the list, Buttigieg is actually a member of the current administration and has been responsible for implementing federal policies. Unfortunately, his tenure as Transportation secretary will not be remembered as particularly libertarian. While he has signaled openness to tearing down bureaucratic "barriers" in the wake of transportation-related disasters, he has not made any serious attempts to grapple with said bureaucracy. On the contrary, when things have gone wrong, he has reserved most of his ire for private companies like Southwest Airlines and Norfolk Southern, rather than the outdated and meddlesome regulators who make their jobs more difficult.
Buttigieg comes across as a technocrat rather than a progressive: He appears to believe that smart, capable people like himself should run the government and make things more efficient. When he pursued the presidency in 2020, liberal news site Vox described him as a "product of the meritocracy" and did not intend it as a compliment. He enrages the left, but this does not make him a friend to liberty, amusing though it is. His foreign policy views also seem somewhat more hawkish than other standard-issue Democrats, which is not an improvement.
Then there's Kelly. As an astronaut and the husband of former Rep. Gabby Giffords (D–Ariz.)—who was grievously wounded after being shot in the head by a deranged gunman—he is certainly an inspiring figure. However, his political positions are mostly in line with his party. He has voted in support of President Joe Biden's approved policies 95.5 percent of the time. On energy and environmental issues, he has deviated from the progressive wing of the party: He opposes the Green New Deal and has voted in favor of increased oil drilling in the Gulf of Mexico. On the other hand, he is one of the more outspoken Democrats on gun control.
Arizona's U.S. senators have tended to be more individual-minded, bipartisan, and independent: see Kyrsten Sinema. For those reasons, Kelly might be slightly preferable to some of the other options.
Now for the governors. Walz and Beshear were both elected in 2018 and thus have longer records than Shapiro, who became governor of his state just last year. Alas, their tenures are not particularly inspiring, as both of them overlapped with the COVID-19 pandemic—providing an opportunity to implement policies that were anathema to liberty.
Walz implemented many of the same heavy-handed, liberty-infringing mitigation policies as other blue state governors; he also maintained a government hotline for people to call and report their neighbors for violating social distancing rules. When Republicans complained about it, he replied: "We're not going to take down a phone number that people can call to keep their families safe." This alone should be disqualifying.
For his part, Beshear attempted to keep lockdowns, mask mandates, and school closures in place—well into the pandemic. In fact, he reimposed masks on public school students in August 2021, saying, "We are to the point where we cannot allow our kids to go into these buildings unprotected, unvaccinated and face this delta variant." This is also disqualifying.
That leaves Shapiro, who has had mercifully less time in office to do things that would offend libertarians. To his credit, he has supported several encouraging initiatives. One of his first actions after taking office was to eliminate the college degree requirement for government jobs. He also made some small progress on reforming the state's occupational licensing system. He is a supporter, to a degree, of school choice; he ultimately vetoed a voucher bill after facing significant pressure from teachers unions, however.
Given how popular he is in Pennsylvania—a must-win state for Harris—Shapiro has emerged as the likeliest veep pick in recent days. Like Buttigieg, Shapiro seems to make the far-left very upset: The New Republic called him "The One Vice Presidential Pick Who Could Ruin Democratic Unity." While that sounds entertaining enough, the main knock on him from the left is that he harshly condemned the recent pro-Palestinian protests on college campuses and is vocally supportive of Israel. For libertarians who would like to see the U.S. become less involved in Middle Eastern affairs and stop spending American tax dollars on costly foreign wars, these are reasonable concerns.
At the same time, it's hard to imagine Vice President Shapiro steering a markedly different course on foreign policy than any of the other options; on most other issues, he is slightly better. All this contributes to a weak—very weak—libertarian preference for Shapiro.
Update: About 14 hours after Rittenhouse shared his video explaining his support for Ron Paul, declaring that "you must stand by your principles," he announced that he spoke "with members of the Trump's [sic] team" and that he is now "100% behind Donald Trump."
"A lot of people are upset that I said I'm going to be writing in Ron Paul for president of the United States, and that is true. I will be writing in Ron Paul." So said Kyle Rittenhouse in a recent video posted to X. A lot of people, it appears, are indeed upset. Should they be?
Rittenhouse catapulted to national attention in 2020 when, at age 17, he armed himself, traveled to Kenosha, Wisconsin, during a night of riots and civil unrest, and shot three men, killing two. It was always Rittenhouse's contention that he'd acted in self-defense, and his arrest galvanized many in the conservative movement who said the prosecution was motivated not by justice but by the political moment. Supporters helped raise $2 million for Rittenhouse's bail, and he ultimately attracted the attention of former President Donald Trump, who defended him while in office and who hosted Rittenhouse at Mar-a-Lago after leaving the White House.
So one of the primary reactions to Rittenhouse's choice for president is that he's guilty of betrayal. Trump and the MAGA movement had his back when his life took its most dire turn, the thinking goes, so Rittenhouse owes them his loyalty at the ballot box. That general sentiment is summed up aptly by the one-and-only Catturd: "I can stomach a lot of things—but backstabbing millions who supported you at your lowest point. Then turning on Trump right after he got shot," he said in a viral post. "Can't stomach it—won't put up with it—forgotten forever."
In other words, Rittenhouse is allegedly in debt to Trump and his followers for supporting his claims of innocence. He was acquitted in 2021 of all charges, including first-degree reckless homicide, two counts of first-degree recklessly endangering safety, first-degree intentional homicide, and attempted first-degree intentional homicide. That was the right decision. And it was the one the jury came to because that is what the evidence clearly supported. The right to self-defense is not selectively available to people with certain views. Rittenhouse owes no one a thing for not getting convicted of charges that prosecutors should not have brought to begin with.
So why did Trump fail to gain Rittenhouse's support? "Unfortunately, Donald Trump had bad advisers making him bad on the Second Amendment, and that is my issue," he said in his video. "If you cannot be completely uncompromisable on the Second Amendment, I will not vote for you." Trump's record includes a bump stock ban, which Reason's Jacob Sullum noted turned "peaceful gun owners into felons by fiat," and his support for red flag laws. Those moves may not be deal-breakers for many people, including other staunch supporters of the Second Amendment. They apparently are for Rittenhouse. It's his one vote, and he can do with it what he wants.
Yet his announcement also elicited what has become the predictable response, on both the left and the right, to similar defections from the mainstream: You're helping elect the other guy. For one, that vastly overstates the power of a vote—an unpopular thing to say, sure, but true nonetheless. And it's particularly true for Rittenhouse, who lives in the Dallas–Fort Worth area; if he's casting his vote there, I'm going to go out on a limb and assume it will not derail Trump's electoral victory in Texas, which is almost assured.
But even if it were true that Rittenhouse's vote would have some sort of Earth-shattering effect on the outcome of the 2024 election, a vote is earned. It's an expression of support. If neither mainstream option can produce a platform that is sufficiently palatable to someone, they certainly have the prerogative to make that known—by supporting someone else or, gasp, not voting altogether.
After all, no one is entitled to your vote. They're not entitled to it simply because they're a member of a particular political party, and they're not entitled to it for supposedly being less bad than the other side. And they're certainly not entitled to it just because they said supportive things about you in a time of need.
Vice-presidential nominee J.D. Vance's book, Hillbilly Elegy, came out in 2016—a few months before Donald Trump won a surprising presidential victory thanks in part to widespread support from within the Appalachian hollers that Vance wrote about. Although he grew up in southwestern Ohio, Vance's family was from the mountains of hard-scrabble eastern Kentucky.
"Elegy" offers a thought-provoking account of the difficulty poor people face as they try to transcend their circumstances. "How much of our lives, good and bad, should we credit to our personal decisions, and how much is just the inheritance of our culture, our families, and our parents who have failed their children?" he asked. The movie was less compelling, but it reinforced that point.
Trump recently said the book was about society's unfair treatment of working class men and women, but that suggests he never read it. Actually, the book focused on the ways poor people often sabotage their fleeting opportunities and blame others for their predicament. Vance went on to become a Marine, attend Ohio State, and earn a law degree from Yale.
My wife devoured the book—and was particularly moved by Vance's depictions of his awkward attempts to fit in among his classmates. She also grew up in a small coal town in Appalachia. Her lumberman father died young, leaving a wife and six daughters to subsist on government aid. Like Vance, she received a scholarship. When I met her at George Washington University, she had never taken a taxi, been in an elevator, or dined at a fancy restaurant.
Unfortunately, author Vance seems far different from vice-presidential nominee Vance. Power is tempting, but Donna and I have nevertheless cringed as he has espoused positions that seem at odds with his book's central point. Instead of recognizing that the American Dream is alive and well—and all of her sisters have lived successful lives—he now blames outsiders for the plight of the working class.
Vance also pitches big-government economic "populist" ideas and engages in nativism. His critics have pointed to his apparent hypocrisy. After all, he's a middle-class Midwestern suburbanite who attended an Ivy League school, married the daughter of immigrants, and is backed by Bay Area techies. I suspect his embrace of an ideology explains this shift more than raw ambition.
Tell-tale signs come from his speech at the Republican National Convention: "America is not just an idea. It is a group of people with a shared history and a common future. … (W)hen we allow newcomers into our American family, we allow them on our terms." He said that generations of Kentuckians died in wars and are buried in his family's cemetery, noting that, "People will not fight for abstractions, but they will fight for their homes."
I've read myriad critiques on some of Vance's statements, including noxious ones blasting childless cat ladies. That's basically right-wing edge-lording. But the fiercest critique comes in an Atlantic column addressing Vance's "insult to America." Writer Jessica Gavora recalls her dad's harrowing escape from Czechoslovakia after Soviet forces overran it: "My dad came here for a reason, and it wasn't the dirt of a graveyard."
I agree with Gavora, but then again my dad fled Nazi Germany and my maternal grandparents fled Russian pogroms. Almost all of the immigrants I meet—around here they're mostly from Latin America, Russia, and India—are among the most patriotic people I meet. My wife's Appalachian ancestors hailed from Poland before heading to work in the Pennsylvania coal fields. And what's this about requiring them to submit to "our terms"?
Vance's statement defines the central dividing line between paleo-conservatives such as Patrick Buchanan—and classical liberals such Ronald Reagan. The former believe America is a nation built by and for a specific people. They dislike free markets, which are corrosive of their cultural preferences. They want to vastly limit immigration. They have no problem with big government as long as they control it.
By contrast, classical liberals believe America is based on the universal idea of freedom and economic opportunity. They focus on reducing the size and power of government—and creating opportunities for everyone wherever they or their ancestors were born. Classical liberals may want an orderly immigration process, but they're more interested in turning immigrants into Americans than sending them home.
Classical liberals—and I count myself among them—view free trade as a wonder, not a threat. And while I'm a long-time critic of America's endless foreign interventions and wars, I care (unlike Vance) about what happens in Ukraine. We believe in liberty for everyone, not just members of our clan.
The Democratic Party is hostile to freedom and progress in its own unique and terrifying ways. But I wish the Vance who wrote "Hillbilly Elegy"—rather than paleo-conservative changeling we now see on display—were the one on the GOP ticket to make that case.
This column was first published in The Orange County Register.
A few minutes before 10 a.m. on Wednesday, former President Donald Trump dropped a plan to completely overhaul the relationship between millions of older Americans and the federal government.
"SENIORS SHOULD NOT PAY TAX ON SOCIAL SECURITY," Trump shouted from his Truth Social account.
If implemented, that would be a hugely expensive policy change. According to one quick estimate by a former White House chief economist, it would reduce federal revenue by $1.5 trillion over 10 years and would add $1.8 trillion to the national debt. (The extra cost is the result of interest on the new debt that would be racked up in the absence of that revenue.) It would also accelerate Social Security's slide into insolvency. And, obviously, it would be a big tax break for Americans who collect Social Security checks—but not a tax break that would be particularly good at fostering economic growth.
Despite all that, the most notable thing about Trump's announcement was what it didn't include. There was no attempt to reckon with those figures, for example. No surrogates were dispatched to explain why this change is necessary or good for the economy or country. No press releases went out. There was, of course, no attempt to explain what government programs would be cut to offset the drop in revenue. For that matter, there had been no discussion of this idea at the Republican National Convention. It was not mentioned in Trump's (long) acceptance speech and was not included in the party's platform.
Like so much else in the Trump era, this looks like an idea that went from the former president's head to his social media account with very few stops in between.
There is something to be said for that degree of—let's say—transparency. If nothing else, it is quintessentially Trumpian: hastily conceived and not deeply considered, more of a marketing slogan than substance. Let's just call this what it is: a nakedly political play to win the votes of Social Security–collecting Americans.
Coming as it did on Wednesday morning, the "no taxes on Social Security" plan stood in stark contrast to the news the Trump campaign had made just one day earlier. On Tuesday, Trump's campaign had officially (and gleefully) sunk the Heritage Foundation's "Project 2025"—a 900-page document in which the conservative think tank had outlined an extensive policy plan for Trump's prospective second term. The project had been headed by Paul Dans, who had served in the Trump administration, and was central to the institutional-wide pivot toward populism that Kevin Roberts, Heritage's president, had executed in recent years.
In a statement, two of Trump's top campaign officials didn't merely bury Project 2025 but also issued a threat.
"Reports of Project 2025's demise would be greatly welcomed and should serve as notice to anyone or any group trying to misrepresent their influence with President Trump and his campaign—it will not end well for you," said Susie Wiles and Chris LaCivita.
Translation: How dare anyone try to substitute actual policy substance for whatever random thought might fall out of the former president's head on a Wednesday morning?
Roberts' mistake "was thinking that Mr. Trump cares about anyone's ideas other than his own. He governs on feral instinct, tactical opportunism, and what seems popular at a given moment," wrote the Wall Street Journal's editorial board in a scathing response to the news of Project 2025 being scuttled and that Dans had resigned from Heritage. "The lesson for Heritage, and other think tanks, is that it's better to stick to your principles rather than court the political flavor of the day."
Amen to that.
Meanwhile, Vice President Kamala Harris has launched her campaign by veering hard into an almost Trump-like policy nihilism of her own. Having already tried to memory-hole her track record as the Biden administration's so-called "border czar"—read Reason's Liz Wolfe if you need to catch up on that controversy—Harris is now seemingly rewriting her positions on a bunch of other things too.
For example, Harris was a co-sponsor of the Green New Deal when she was a member of the U.S. Senate in 2019. She voiced her support for the progressive environmental package while campaigning for president that same year.
Now, she's backing away from it. This week, a spokesperson for the Harris campaign told the Washington Examiner that Harris no longer supports the federal job guarantee—a promise that the federal government would provide jobs with "family-sustaining wages" to anyone who wanted one—that was a key feature of the Green New Deal.
As the Examinernotes, Harris has also "backed away from her endorsement of eliminating private healthcare plans as part of a Medicare for All proposal. Her campaign also toldThe Hill that she will not seek to ban fracking if she is elected. That was after previously telling CNN while running for president 'There's no question I'm in favor of banning fracking.'"
Maybe this is Harris embracing her philosophy of being "unburdened by what has been." Maybe she's simply taking a page from Trump's book—after all, the former president has never paid much of a price for making it up as he goes along.
For both Trump and Harris, simply telling voters what you think they want to hear is possibly the most direct route to winning an election. But such a cynical approach to campaigning sidelines any discussion of policy—and means the election is likely to be decided on far stupider grounds.
First, the Republican meltdown over…people being biracial? Politicians code-switching? "I don't know, is she Indian or is she black?" asked Republican presidential nominee Donald Trump, referring to his presumptive opponent Kamala Harris, at the annual convention for the National Association of Black Journalists (NABJ).
"I've known her a long time, indirectly," Trump had said right before. "And she was always of Indian heritage, and she was only promoting Indian heritage. I did not know she was black until a number of years ago when she happened to turn black, and now she wants to be known as black."
"I respect either one, but she obviously doesn't, because she was Indian all the way, and then all of a sudden, she made a turn and she went—she became a black person," he added.
Harris is biracial, born to an Indian mother and a Jamaican father, which seems to really be blowing Trump's mind. He appeared to be trying to make the case that Harris code-switching, to appeal to black voters in speeches, is disingenuous. (Welcome to politics!) But it came off more as rude to biracial people, as if they need to pick an identity group.
"This room of mostly Black journalists is not the same friendly territory that the former president is used to on the campaign trail," reportsThe New York Times' Maya King. "As he cracks jokes and repeats falsehoods about his court cases and record, the audience is gasping and scoffing. Few are applauding or laughing."
At one point, Trump claimed immigrants are "taking black jobs." When pushed by a moderator to define what, exactly, a "black job" is, Trump claimed it was "any job." (If the claim is that Harris is disingenuous, pandering to black voters, it looks like Trump is cut from the same cloth.)
"Historically, the vice president, in terms of the election, does not have any impact," said Trump in response to a question about whether J.D. Vance would be ready for the job on day one. "I mean, virtually no impact…Virtually never has it mattered." It was a real shit show of an appearance, with Trump careening all over the place and very much failing to win over the room.
Trump later doubled down on his race comments, projecting headlines touting Harris' Indian ancestry on screen at his Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, rally:
The Trump campaign is projecting this on the screen above the stage at his rally in Harrisburg PA: pic.twitter.com/ZsGHAZaruk
Second, the Democratic meltdown over…journalists interviewing Trump: As if Trump's sort of strange race commentary weren't off-putting enough, many members of the media seem thoroughly unable to do their jobs when Trump is involved, in a sad redux of the last eight years.
"Trump's acceptance of NABJ's invitation prompted at least one high-profile member of the organization to step down as the co-chair of the convention," reported Voice of America. "Others expressed concerns that Trump would be given a platform to make false claims or give the impression he had the group's endorsement."
Journalists took to X to express their dismay at Trump even being invited to speak onstage at the NABJ conference, never mind the fact that the conference customarily invites candidates running for president to speak, so it would be out of step with tradition if Trump were randomly excluded.
On a personal note, NABJ has meant a lot to so many of us, so this has been hard to see play out on multiple levels. But I will never forget that Donald Trump insulted and was hostile to a Black female journalist in our own communal space and was unchecked. And the feeling of…
Several journalists were seemingly unable to grasp the fact that Trump making strange comments, revealing of his character and his campaign strategy, which may in fact affect how some black voters view him, and those comments becoming a top domestic politics story is in fact a job well done. Journalists should know better than to equate interviewing someone with endorsing their beliefs. Also, didn't we already do this whole idiotic rigamarole years ago, the first time Trump ran for office? And the second? Can't we just cover the man, quoting what he says, without losing our minds?
The galaxy-brain take: "The question Republicans ought to confront before leveling any attack is: 'Will this energize my supporters more or hers?'" asks Abigail Shrier at The Free Press. "For nearly every ad hominem salvo currently flung at Harris, the answer is: hers." This most recent kerfuffle is no different. From a pure political strategy standpoint, it's not clear why Trump made the comments he did at the NABJ conference or how those comments will help him.
The Federal Reserve looks like it might cut interest rates in September, drawing widespread opprobrium from strategists in both parties: Democrats fear that it's too little too late to be a useful signal that inflation has been tamed (and President Joe Biden ought to be credited, in their telling), while Republicans fear it could be a messaging win for their opponents.
"You almost have to feel sorry for Kevin Roberts, the ambitious president of the Heritage Foundation. He steered the venerable think tank away from some of its longtime conservative principles to court Donald Trump, only to be spurned by the temperamental former President he and his institution courted," writes the editorial board of The Wall Street Journal.
So true:
semiotics is the study of signification, unpopular due to being too abstract
heres why it matters: you make a tech device, called 'friend'. it provides companionship. but to wear this wouldnt signal "i have companionship". it signals the opposite: it communicates your alone-ness https://t.co/7iuRIXjgiLpic.twitter.com/KIuAvX1pW3
"Kari Lake won the Republican Senate primary in Arizona…setting up a high-stakes contest in the fall for the seat of Senator Kyrsten Sinema, who is retiring," reportsThe New York Times. "And Republican voters ousted a top elections official in Arizona's most populous county who angered conservatives by defending the state's voting system against false claims that the 2020 election was stolen."
Republican vice presidential nominee J.D. Vance has been in the news for an old clip of him talking about how the tax code should punish adults without kids. While Vance's proposal probably aims to address demographic concerns, it represents a misguided approach that contradicts fundamental principles of economic freedom and fairness.
And you know what? That's precisely what our tax code already does, in this case and many others.
Using the tax code to "reward" parents and "punish" nonparents is at odds with the idea of a neutral, efficient tax system. In an ideal and fair world, the tax base would be broad but taxed at a low rate. People making the same income should be paying the same level of taxes no matter how they choose to live their lives.
Unfortunately, the tax code is neither fair nor neutral. It punishes and rewards all sorts of behaviors based on what government officials decide is good or bad.
For instance, the tax code does, in fact, treat people with kids more favorably than it treats those who do not have kids.* There's the child tax credit, of course. Then there's the earned income tax credit, which is more generous for families with children than those without. And there is no shortage of other provisions, such as a very significant deduction for heads of households and another for dependent care, which do the same thing.
It's hard to know what Vance's proposal really entails. Does he want another surtax on childless parents? Does he want to expand the child tax credit and make it a universal basic income like many conservatives and progressives want? It's also unclear whether he is simply failing to see that our tax code already delivers on his wishes and punishes childless adults. Either way, I assume he is well intentioned and that he is rightfully concerned about the decline in fertility we are witnessing not just in this country but across the world.
Unfortunately, punishing childless parents with additional taxes wouldn't boost fertility. For one thing, we've had a child tax credit since the 1990s, and the tax break has been regularly extended. That hasn't encouraged people to have more kids.
That's not unique to the child tax credit. Lots of evidence exists showing that government programs of all sorts meant to encourage, reward, or stimulate the supply of babies usually fail. One of the most dramatic examples is South Korea. The country has spent over $200 billion on such policies over the past 16 years, and fertility rates are still falling.
There isn't any doubt that more people, and hence more babies, are a boon for our lives and our economy. But that alone isn't a good reason for government subsidies. And while raising kids is expensive, that's no justification for a government tax break, either.
Besides, careful studies have shown the cost of raising a child in America has been decreasing for six decades. In the end, rather than rewarding families with lesser taxes at the expense of childless adults, I would encourage advocates to focus on removing existing government barriers—like overzealous policies that make child care more expensive without making kids measurably safer—that make life more complicated for families.
Ultimately, these are only secondary aspects of a much bigger debate. Our tax code is incredibly unfair. It's not just childless adults that face a surcharge compared to parents. Tax breaks for homeowners mean that renters pay more money for the same amount of housing. Households which include a college student pay less in taxes. People who can afford an electric vehicle can secure a tax break that others cannot.
These tax breaks for some are not just unfair to the taxpayers who don't get them—they also turn our tax code into a complicated mess that requires many millions of collective hours to comply with. Instead of adding more complexity and bias, we should be moving in the opposite direction—toward a simpler, flatter, and more neutral code that treats all taxpayers equally.
Using the tax code as a tool for social engineering is misguided. It leads to economic inefficiencies and infringes on individual liberty. Rather than doubling down on the problematic aspects of our current system, we should be working toward comprehensive reform. Only then can we hope to see taxes as something that truly serves the interests of all Americans, regardless of their personal choices.
Robert F. Kennedy Jr. won applause at the Libertarian National Convention by criticizing government lockdowns and deficit spending, and saying America shouldn't police the world.
It made me want to interview him. This month, I did.
He said intelligent things about America's growing debt:
"President Trump said that he was going to balance the budget and instead he (increased the debt more) than every president in United States history—$8 trillion. President Biden is on track now to beat him."
It's good to hear a candidate actually talk about our debt.
"When the debt is this large…you have to cut dramatically, and I'm going to do that," he says.
But looking at his campaign promises, I don't see it.
He promises "affordable" housing via a federal program backing 3 percent mortgages.
"Imagine that you had a rich uncle who was willing to cosign your mortgage!" gushes his campaign ad. "I'm going to make Uncle Sam that rich uncle!"
I point out that such giveaways won't reduce our debt.
"That's not a giveaway," Kennedy replies. "Every dollar that I spend as president is going to go toward building our economy."
That's big government nonsense, like his other claim: "Every million dollars we spend on child care creates 22 jobs!"
Give me a break.
When I pressed him about specific cuts, Kennedy says, "I'll cut the military in half…cut it to about $500 billion….We are not the policemen of the world."
"Stop giving any money to Ukraine?" I ask.
"Negotiate a peace," Kennedy replies. "Biden has never talked to Putin about this, and it's criminal."
He never answered whether he'd give money to Ukraine. He did answer about Israel.
"Yes, of course we should,"
"[Since] you don't want to cut this spending, what would you cut?"
"Israel spending is rather minor," he responds. "I'm going to pick the most wasteful programs, put them all in one bill, and send them to Congress with an up and down vote."
Of course, Congress would just vote it down.
Kennedy's proposed cuts would hardly slow down our path to bankruptcy. Especially since he also wants new spending that activists pretend will reduce climate change.
At a concert years ago, he smeared "crisis" skeptics like me, who believe we can adjust to climate change, screaming at the audience, "Next time you see John Stossel and [others]… these flat-earthers, these corporate toadies—lying to you. This is treason, and we need to start treating them now as traitors!"
Now, sitting with him, I ask, "You want to have me executed for treason?"
"That statement," he replies, "it's not a statement that I would make today….Climate is existential. I think it's human-caused climate change. But I don't insist other people believe that. I'm arguing for free markets and then the lowest cost providers should prevail in the marketplace….We should end all subsidies and let the market dictate."
That sounds good: "Let the market dictate."
But wait, Kennedy makes money from solar farms backed by government guaranteed loans. He "leaned on his contacts in the Obama administration to secure a $1.6 billion loan guarantee," wroteThe New York Times.
"Why should you get a government subsidy?" I ask.
"If you're creating a new industry," he replies, "you're competing with the Chinese. You want the United States to own pieces of that industry."
I suppose that means his government would subsidize every industry leftists like.
Yet when a wind farm company proposed building one near his family's home, he opposed it.
"Seems hypocritical," I say.
"We're exterminating the right whale in the North Atlantic through these wind farms!" he replies.
I think he was more honest years ago, when he complained that "turbines…would be seen from Cape Cod, Martha's Vineyard… Nantucket….[They] will steal the stars and nighttime views."
Kennedy was once a Democrat, but now Democrats sue to keep him off ballots. Former Clinton Labor Secretary Robert Reich calls him a "dangerous nutcase."
Kennedy complains that Reich won't debate him.
"Nobody will," he says. "They won't have me on any of their networks."
Well, obviously, I will.
I especially wanted to confront him about vaccines.
In a future column, Stossel TV will post more from our hourlong discussion.
New slur just dropped: Perhaps it started with the online meme, which was semi-believable but untrue, that Sen. J.D. Vance (R–Ohio) wrote of humping a couch in his coming-of-age memoir, Hillbilly Elegy. Or perhaps it started with the most normal, almost boring politician in the world, Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz, who has been using this talk track for months but is only just now going viral.
But the Democrats' new strategy is to call their Republican opponents—particularly J.D. Vance, former President Donald Trump's vice-presidential pick—"weird." ("Elegant in its simplicity," said one Democratic party strategist of Walz's invention.)
"People kept talking about, look Donald Trump is going to put women's lives at risk. That's 100 percent true. Donald Trump is potentially going to end constitutional liberties that we have and voting. I do believe all those things are a real possibility, but it gives him way too much power," Walz said on CNN. "Listen to the guy. He's talking about Hannibal Lecter and shocking sharks and just whatever crazy thing pops into his mind. And I thought we just think we give him way too much credit."
Walz, a former public school teacher in Mankato, Minnesota, is aggressively earnest and plainspoken, and "actually knows how to fish" and hunt, according to an approving former senator from nearby North Dakota. He looks like he shops at Costco and doesn't know what boba tea is.
Meanwhile, Vance—the frequent target of Walz's line—has had some damning comments resurface (naturally) from a Fox News interview in 2021 in which he said the nation was run by "childless cat ladies" who are "miserable."
"How does it make any sense that we've turned our country over to people who don't really have a direct stake in it?" he asked.
Out of this soundbite and Walz's frustration, a slurwasborn. Here's a supercut of Democrats calling Republicans "weird" from the last week, in case you don't believe me. More here and—enjoy this Fox News chyron—here.
Does the "weird" line make any sense? Admittedly, it is a little weird for Vance and some of his fellow Republicans to express such blatant contempt for other people's life choices—particularly childless and single women, not their male counterparts who are surely also to blame (unless they're busy with the couches, in which case: ride on). But I wonder whether Democrats are taking a premature victory lap, claiming the schoolyard insult is effective, when they're not exactly the party of normal, well-adjusted people like Walz.
It's the Democrats who can claim Sam Brinton, the crossdressing, gender-fluid, lipstick-wearing Biden administration Energy Department official who kept stealing suitcases (containing clothes and makeup) from luggage conveyor belts at airports. It's the Democrats who currently have gentle-parenting Instagram lady experts using kindergarten-teacher talk to condescend to people worried about big-government regulatory policy. It's the Democrats who have spent a LOT of the last decade holding drag queen story hours at public libraries and expecting everyone to stay really calm about it, and who have promoted an awful lot of gender-doesn't-exist/gender-isn't-binary talk. It's the Democrats, in the form of teachers unions, who held protests with coffins to combat school-reopening plans during COVID-19, implying that they would die if expected to go to work (while schools stayed open in much of Scandinavia, to great effect). Don't even get me started on the fixation with white-lady tears, or the literal Hamas headbands detected on some college campuses this spring.
For right now, though, people seem fired up enough about Vance's rude comments to accept and promulgate the "weird" insult.
Sometimes it backfires, though. The X account for the Nevada Democratic Party posted this, quote-tweeting an image of the two politicians: "You can't make this up: Sam Brown and JD Vance are claiming to be champions for hardworking Nevadans—from a private jet. They're not only hypocrites…they're just plain weird."
Unfortunately for them (and for him), Sam Brown, who is running for the Republican nomination for a U.S. Senate seat in Nevada, sustained heavy facial scarring from burns that came from an improvised explosive devise explosion while he was serving in Afghanistan in 2008. It took him three years of rehab and 30 surgeries to get to where he is today, but his face doesn't look, well, normal. (Brown gracefully pivoted away from the insult.)
But therein lies the problem with this schoolyard taunt approach: It looks not only low and mean, but it denies the reality most voters (especially the double-haters) know to be true.
American politics is full of terribly weird, thoughtless, and impulsive people, reflecting exactly who we are as a nation. The Tim Walzes and the Sam Browns are actually the exceptions, not the rule. Former President Bill Clinton had sex with his intern, featuring a cigar as a sex toy. Former President George W. Bush declared "mission accomplished" when it just…wasn't. He flew over Katrina-devastated New Orleans on his way back from vacation instead of actually visiting. The Kennedys, that political dynasty that just won't go away, seem to have a hereditary philandering problem. Trump was just convicted of falsifying business records related to hush-money payments to porn star Stormy Daniels, with whom he had an affair. It's not just politicians, but the political periphery as well: January 6 saw the introduction of another wild character, the QAnon shaman, who after being sentenced for his role in the Capitol riot was granted a special organic food prison diet. Of course.
It's no wonder people want to tune out.
One last reason why the "weird" taunt might backfire: Though Vance is wrong to speak about childless people in such terms, his family…looks like a lot of American families nowadays. Three (biracial) young kids, two working parents, one of whom is a striver who came from a hardscrabble background. Just as thrice-married Trump, who pays lip service to the idea of the church but barely attends, is representative of the social values of a portion of the country, Vance appears to be representative of another chunk: Those who are upwardly mobile, who care about providing for their young families.
Scenes from New York: Inside the Shujun Wang trial. Wang stands accused of being a spy for the Chinese Communist Party. If he is convicted, he will face up to 25 years in prison.
QUICK HITS
MSNBC contributor Molly Jong-Fast claimed on the air that Republican vice-presidential candidate J.D. Vance wants only "white children" in America, which is an odd thing to say about a man who has three biracial children with his wife, Usha.
Israel killed Ismail Haniyeh, a top Hamas leader, as he was visiting Tehran.
Interesting developments with Project 2025:
NEWS: Project 2025 director Paul Dans has stepped down at Heritage Foundation after pressure from Trump campaign leadership, ongoing power rift over staffing control for potential second Trump admin, per internal email. This suggests Project 2025 will likely shut down. Story TK.
— Roger Sollenberger (@SollenbergerRC) July 30, 2024
"My cover story in the new Aug/Sept issue of Reason Magazine explores the paradox that the faster the federal debt accelerates towards a debt crisis, the less voters seem to care," writes Brian Riedl on X.
Stunning:
The Democratic Socialists of America @dsa_intl_comm congratulated Venezuelan dictator Nicolás Maduro for stealing the election, then deleted their post pic.twitter.com/rHdA2otLUA
National polls show slight shift toward Joe Biden: In the roughly week and a half since former president (and presumptive Republican presidential nominee) Donald Trump was convicted of 34 felonies related to falsifying records to hide hush-money payments to a porn star, numerous national polls have indicated that voters have moved slightly toward incumbent president (and presumptive Democratic presidential nominee) Joe Biden.
A HarrisX/Forbes poll found Biden and Trump each getting a one-point bump after the verdict. A Reuters/Ipsos poll found a one-point bump for Biden, with Trump losing a point. A Morning Consult poll found a one-point bump for Biden, with Trump neither gaining nor losing any ground. And an Echelon Insights poll found a two-point Biden bump, with Trump support staying flat. (All poll results can be found in a chart here.)
The New York Times recontacted some 2,000 respondents they had polled this spring and found that "the group favored Mr. Trump by three points when originally interviewed in April and May, but this week they backed him by only one point."
A Reuters/Ipsos poll found that 25 percent of independents and 10 percent of Republicans are less likely to vote for Trump following his conviction. The poll "also found that 56% of Republican registered voters said the case would have no effect on their vote and 35% said they were more likely to support Trump, who has claimed the charges against him are politically motivated and has vowed to appeal," Reuters reports. "The potential loss of a tenth of his party's voters is more significant for Trump than the stronger backing of more than a third of Republicans, since many of the latter would be likely to vote for him regardless of the conviction."
"The verdict has not overhauled the 2024 race nearly as much as Democrats hoped it would," writesThe Washington Post's Aaron Blake. "But the totality of the evidence suggests it has dinged Trump a little."
Some of this perceived shift, ABC adds, could be the result of "differential partisan nonresponse bias"—basically, Republicans may be less keen to respond to polls right now given the bad news they've just been dealt in the form of a Trump conviction, while Democrats might be more excited to respond. And none of these shifts are massive; these changes are within the margin of error. Time will tell.
Scenes from D.C.: I present to you the most D.C. thing that I have ever seen, in honor of the fact that I spent a chunk of last week there. (Out of respect for my D.C.-based colleagues, I will not say anything unkind about this, uh, "city.")
"If the footage of [Noa] Argamani being kidnapped on the back of a motorcycle on October 7 became a darkly iconic representation of that day's horror," writes Oliver Wiseman, "the footage of her reunion with her father represented will be remembered as an all too rare showing of hope."
"What if the U.S. cuts off aid to Israel?" asksReason's Matt Welch.
Today, Donald Trump—now a convicted felon—will sit for his probation interview.
Really good Odd Lots episode on the widely reviled practice of "personalized pricing."
Legitimately into this theory: Arranged marriage isn't dead, it's just in essence mediated by social media apps.
lots of normal people in middle america get into dating app marriages that look a lot like arranged marriages. meet someone with aligned values and comparable social status, full send to marriage within a couple months pic.twitter.com/ChhmKvHVJt
Donald Trump was not the first celebrity presidential candidate who could reasonably be accused of insurrection against the United States. Many decades before Trump, another best-selling author and charismatic leader in a rowdy movement to upend dominant American political mores aimed for the U.S. presidency—Eldridge Cleaver, the Black Panthers' minister of information and the author of Soul on Ice.
Unlike Trump, who this year overcame challenges from Colorado, Maine, and Illinois about his eligibility due to the Constitution's Insurrection Clause, Cleaver couldn't be caught up by the 14th Amendment, Section 3, since that explicitly only bars insurrectionists who had already been government officials. But Cleaver faced his own eligibility hurdles.
In 1968, as the first presidential nominee of the Peace and Freedom Party (PFP), formed mostly by antiwar radicals disenchanted with Lyndon Johnson's Democratic Party, Cleaver was below the constitutionally mandated age of 35 and would have been so still on Inauguration Day in 1969. At least three states did eliminate his name, if not his party, from the ballot for this reason.
Many states, however, allowed someone absolutely constitutionally disqualified to remain on their ballot; in Iowa, as reported in the Davenport Times-Democrat, the secretary of state "ruled that he must accept the certification in the absence of positive proof that Cleaver is not of eligible age."
While the various charges haunting Trump during his current campaign involve less violent crimes, Cleaver, four months before receiving the PFP nomination with 74 percent of the delegates' votes, engaged in a firefight with Oakland police that resulted in another Panther's death. He was thus campaigning while out on bail, pending trial for three counts of assault and attempted murder.
As the PFP's candidate, Cleaver certainly sounded like an insurrectionist, not that there was anything (constitutionally) wrong with that. In a campaign speech, as printed in a 1968 issue of the North American Review, Cleaver said: "What we need is a revolution in the white mother country and national liberation for the black colony. To achieve these ends we believe that political and military machinery that does not exist now and has never existed must be created."
The PFP, aligning with the Panthers, pushed Cleaver as its presidential hopeful with a dual agenda, as expressed by member Richard Yanowitz in an online memoir of PFP history: "immediate withdrawal from Vietnam and support for black liberation and self-determination."
During the PFP's inaugural California convention, Cleaver said that he regarded black members of the PFP as "misguided political freaks," but he eventually embraced the alliance and accepted the PFP's national nomination, saying on the campaign trail that "we believe that all black colonial subjects should be members of the Black Panther Party, and that all American citizens should be members of the Peace and Freedom Party." The Panthers' intention, he said, was to "use our papier-mâché right to vote to help strengthen the Peace and Freedom Party and to help it attain its objectives within the framework of political realities in the mother country."
The leftist political tumult out of which the PFP arose in 1968 had many elements that echo modern-day political dynamics. Debates raged about whether black activists should have influence above their numbers and whether the movement should explicitly oppose Zionism. The same sorts of petition barricades to getting a new party on the ballot existed then, though the PFP's campaign in California in particular was a huge success, with 105,000 signatures gathered when only 66,000 were needed.
But rumors persisted about how clearly petitioners informed signers that they were officially registering with the party. PFPers insisted they let signers know they could change their registration back after the PFP got ballot access and before the election. And indeed, the PFP got over 70 percent fewer votes for the presidential race in California than it did petition signatures.
Despite his patent ineligibility and being knocked off the ballot in a few states, Cleaver's PFP campaign garnered over 36,000 votes nationwide. In late September, he polled at 2 percent in California but received far fewer votes on Election Day—a common fate for third-party candidates. Shortly after his electoral defeat, Cleaver fled the U.S. rather than face trial for the Oakland incident, not returning until 1975, after which he served less than a year in jail along with lots of probation and community service.
The cases of Trump and Cleaver illustrate a persistent American theme. Whether because they are mad at the perverted communists dominating the Democratic Party (as per MAGA) or the colonialist and imperialist white power structure (as per the PFP), a segment of American voters want insurrectionist candidates. Who are election officials to deny them?
"In 2016," Harvard law professor Laurence Tribe writes, quoting Democracy Docket's Marc Elias, "Donald Trump seemed to pull an inside straight by narrowly winning" Michigan, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin "while losing the popular vote by 3 million. We now know Trump committed 34 felonies to win that election. Without these crimes, he seems almost certain to have lost to Hillary Clinton. She would have been sworn in on Jan. 20, 2017. She would have filled two Supreme Court vacancies and enacted her legislative agenda."*
Since those 34 felonies involved falsified business records that were produced in 2017, that claim is logically impossible. Yet this gloss on the former president's New York conviction echoes similarly puzzling claims by many smart and ostensibly well-informed observers. In their eagerness to embrace the prosecution's dubious "election fraud" narrative, they nonsensically assert that Trump retroactively ensured his 2016 victory by disguising a 2017 hush-money reimbursement as payment for legal services.
Shortly before the 2016 presidential election, Michael Cohen, then Trump's lawyer, paid porn star Stormy Daniels $130,000 to keep her from telling her story about sex with Trump at a Lake Tahoe hotel during a celebrity golf tournament in July 2006. When Trump paid Cohen back in 2017, prosecutors said, he caused the falsification of business records to cover up the arrangement with Daniels by misrepresenting the reimbursement as compensation for legal work. However you view that misrepresentation, it obviously had no impact on the outcome of the election. Yet Tribe, Elias, and other people bizarrely insist that it did.
"Two years shy of this country's 250th birthday," Rice University historian Douglas Brinkley said on CBS last Sunday, "12 New York jurors have convicted former president Donald Trump on 34 counts of falsifying business records in an attempt to influence the outcome of the 2016 presidential election." The dates of those records—11 invoices, 11 checks, and 12 ledger entries—ranged from February 14, 2017, to December 5, 2017. All of them were created after Trump was elected. You might expect that a historian would pay attention to chronological consistency.
You might expect the same from editorialists at major newspapers. Yet according to a May 30 Washington Posteditorial, the jury found Trump "guilty of felony falsification of business records in order to influence the 2016 election." A New York Times editorial published the same day likewise claimed the jury found Trump "guilty of falsifying business records to prevent voters from learning about a sexual encounter that he believed would have been politically damaging." Barring time travel, of course, nothing Trump did in 2017 could have "influence[d] the 2016 election" or "prevent[ed] voters from learning about" that "sexual encounter" before they cast their ballots.
The same temporal difficulty is apparent in news coverage of Trump's trial. "Prosecutors will attempt to make the case that Trump falsified business records to tip the 2016 race," Al Jazeera said in April. "Trump faces 34 felony counts alleging that he falsified New York business records in order to conceal damaging information to influence the 2016 presidential election," NPR reported a week later.
Judging from some accounts of the trial's outcome, prosecutors succeeded in proving that the 2017 records reached back in time to influence the 2016 election. "Former President Donald Trump has been found guilty of 34 counts of falsifying business records to influence the outcome of the 2016 presidential election," NPR reported. The subhead of a Times story published the day after the verdict said, "The former president was convicted of 34 felony counts of falsifying business records to cover up a sex scandal that threatened to derail his 2016 campaign." The Associated Press reported that the jury found Trump "guilty of all 34 charges in a scheme to illegally influence the 2016 election through a hush money payment to a porn actor who said the two had sex."
These confounding characterizations reflect the bait and switch at the heart of the case against Trump. "We allege falsification of business records to the end of keeping information away from the electorate," Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg said in January. "It's an election interference case." In his opening statement, lead prosecutor Matthew Colangelo claimed the case was about "election fraud, pure and simple."
There was nothing "pure and simple" about the case, which did not involve "election fraud" at all. Although the prosecutors repeatedly insinuated that there was something inherently criminal about trying to hide potentially damaging information from voters, that is not true. And although they averred that Cohen's payment to Daniels amounted to an illegal campaign contribution under the Federal Election Campaign Act (FECA), that interpretation of the statute is controversial. In any case, fronting the hush money did not constitute "election fraud," which is usually understood to mean interfering with the casting, counting, or reporting of votes.
Trump was not charged with violating FECA by soliciting Cohen's "contribution." The Justice Department declined to bring that case, probably because it would have been hard to prove that Trump "knowingly and willfully" violated the statute, given the fuzziness of the distinction between personal and campaign expenditures. Even if the deadline for prosecuting Trump under FECA had not passed, Bragg would have no authority to enforce that statute. So instead he resorted to an elaborate workaround that relied on various possible combinations of interacting statutes and questionable assumptions about Trump's knowledge and intent.
The FECA claim was just one of three dueling theories for treating Trump's alleged falsification of business records as a felony rather than a misdemeanor. The other two theories did not hinge on the assumption that the Daniels payment was illegal. And since the jurors were told they did not have to settle on any particular theory, it is not clear which one they found most compelling. Even if they split three ways on that crucial point, they were still allowed to reach a guilty verdict.
All of this is pretty confusing, so it is not surprising that many people have inaccurately described the meaning of the verdict, especially since Bragg and his underlings repeatedly misrepresented the nature of the case. But it is surprising that so many people who should know better have described the verdict in a way that could not possibly be true.
*CORRECTION: This post has been revised to clarify that Tribe was quoting Elias.
Chase Oliver, who secured the Libertarian Party's presidential nomination on Sunday night, says "there are few better examples of 'bad government' than the overly complex current laws and regulations involving immigration."
"If we can allow peaceful people to be peaceful, we can more easily and effectively end actual crimes at our border and make our communities, immigrant and non-immigrant alike, more safe and prosperous," explains a statement provided by the Oliver campaign.
Neither President Joe Biden nor former President Donald Trump has an immigration platform—or record—that is a clear fit for supporters of free migration and a less intrusive federal government. Oliver's campaign argues that he offers a different approach, calling out the use of eminent domain "to build permanent walls or structures on properties that do not wish to have them" and the "arbitrary caps" that are prevalent in the U.S. immigration system.
"What Chase offers is a way for peaceful people to move freely, safely, and lawfully," continues the statement.
The Libertarian candidate proposes that the U.S. "return to an Ellis Island style of processing immigrants," which would involve simplifying the immigration process "for those who wish to come here to work and build a better life." It shouldn't take "months or years" for those immigrants to receive medical and criminal checks and work authorization, but days "at most."
Oliver also supports creating a path to citizenship for the country's undocumented immigrants. Millions of undocumented immigrants are "doing essential jobs, paying payroll taxes, and contributing to our economic growth," reads his platform. "Formalizing this arrangement" will "allow them to further contribute to the economy by meeting critical labor demand and reducing inflationary pressures" and save "taxpayers billions of dollars in enforcement costs," Oliver's website says.
The platform outlines a pathway to citizenship for recipients of Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, or DACA, the policy enacted by President Barack Obama that defers deportation action and offers work authorization to immigrants brought to the U.S. illegally as kids. Oliver's platform also includes a pathway to citizenship for the children of long-term temporary visa holders, a class of legally present immigrants who must self-deport at 21 if they can't secure legal status before then. There are currently over 200,000 dependent visa holders waiting for relief.
The last point is a unique one. Dip Patel, founder of Improve the Dream, an organization that advocates for solutions for those visa holders, noted that it may be the first presidential platform to outline that relief explicitly. "It is great to see this common sense idea to allow children raised and educated in America with lawful status be [explicitly] mentioned on a presidential candidate's immigration platform," Patel tells Reason. He hopes that all future candidates' platforms will "include this and other nuanced solutions affecting so many who have spent their entire lives in America."
Oliver wants to expand the H-1B visa program, a nonimmigrant visa pathway for highly skilled, highly educated workers. He also supports a startup visa, noting that 55 percent of American startups valued at over $1 billion or more were founded or co-founded by immigrants. This was the conclusion of 2022 research by the National Foundation for American Policy (NFAP), which also found that almost 80 percent of those billion-dollar companies have an immigrant founder or an immigrant in a key leadership position.
"It was great to see the Libertarian Party advocate for a startup visa and a higher level of H-1B visas for high-skilled professionals, particularly since Democrats and Republicans often try to coopt ideas from third parties," says Stuart Anderson, NFAP's executive director. "Our research shows making it easier for highly skilled individuals to remain in the United States, including as entrepreneurs, leads to more jobs, innovation and cutting-edge products for Americans."
Oliver's views on immigration have proven somewhat controversial among some in the Libertarian Party, including members of the Mises Caucus (which "advocated this year in an internal strategy document" to "rid references to…free immigration" from the party platform, reportedReason's Brian Doherty). Quizzed on Reason's Just Asking Questions podcast this week about whether he considered himself "an open borders libertarian," Oliver called it a "very ambiguous term" and reiterated his support for a "21st century Ellis Island."
"If you're there for peace, you just go right on in and get to work and contribute to the economy. You get a job," he continued. "And that will get 99.9 percent of the people quickly filed through the process so they can get to work and contribute to the economy instead of being stuck on welfare or charity programs as they are right now."
Last January, Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg summed up his case against Donald Trump this way: "We allege falsification of business records to the end of keeping information away from the electorate. It's an election interference case."
That gloss made no sense, because the records at the center of the case—11 invoices, 11 checks, and 12 ledger entries that allegedly were aimed at disguising a hush-money reimbursement as payment for legal services—were produced after the 2016 presidential election. At that point, Michael Cohen, Trump's lawyer, had already paid porn star Stormy Daniels $130,000 to keep her from talking about her alleged 2006 sexual encounter with Trump, and Trump had already been elected. The prosecution's case against Trump, which a jury found persuasive enough to convict him on all 34 counts yesterday, was peppered with temporal puzzles like this one.
A New York Times editorial concedes that "many experts" have "expressed skepticism about the significance of this case and its legal underpinnings, which employed an unusual legal theory to seek a felony charge for what is more commonly a misdemeanor." Yet the Times also claims the jury found Trump "guilty of falsifying business records to prevent voters from learning about a sexual encounter that he believed would have been politically damaging." How did records created in 2017 "prevent voters from learning" about the Daniels tryst before they cast their ballots the previous year?
The editorial's characterization of Cohen's payment to Daniels is confounding for a similar reason. "A payoff like this is not illegal by itself," the Times concedes. "What makes it illegal is doctoring business records to mask its true purpose, which prosecutors said was to hide the story from the American people to help Mr. Trump get elected." Again, the "doctoring" of business records happened in 2017. Contrary to what the Times claims, it did not retroactively make the Daniels payment "illegal."
The Times also says the verdict "establishes that Mr. Trump committed crimes in hiding pertinent information about himself from the American people for the purpose of influencing the 2016 presidential election." The verdict does not establish that. Trump was not charged with breaking the law by instructing Cohen to pay off Daniels. And while the contentious characterization of that payment as an illegal campaign contribution figured in one theory for treating the falsification charges as felonies rather than misdemeanors, the other two theories did not hinge on the assumption that the payoff was illegal.
Since the jurors were instructed that they did not need to settle on any particular theory, it is not clear that they unanimously accepted the idea that Trump "committed crimes in hiding pertinent information about himself from the American people for the purpose of influencing the 2016 presidential election." That description, however, is consistent with the prosecution's dubious "election fraud" narrative, which falsely implied that "hiding pertinent information about himself" was inherently criminal.
Although it seems clear that the jury accepted that narrative, even the prosecutors sometimes forgot what they claimed the case was about. They argued that Trump violated an obscure, rarely invoked state law by conspiring with Cohen to influence the presidential election "by unlawful means." They further argued that Trump caused the falsification of business records with the intent of aiding or concealing that crime, which is the element that transformed the charges into felonies. But some versions of that theory were logically impossible.
According to one theory of "unlawful means," Trump facilitated a violation of New York tax law by allowing Cohen to falsely report his reimbursement as income. But since Cohen filed those allegedly fraudulent tax returns in 2018, after Trump had been president for more than a year, his misrepresentation could not possibly have helped Trump win the election.
Under another theory, Trump falsified business records to conceal the falsification of other business records, including the 1099-MISC forms in which the Trump Organization inaccurately described Cohen's reimbursement as income. Since the 1099 forms were issued after the election, it is hard to see how they could have been aimed at ensuring Trump's victory.
These logical difficulties were just one of several reasons to question the prosecution's case, which relied on convoluted theories involving interacting statutes and questionable assumptions about Trump's knowledge and intent. But instead of zeroing in on those weaknesses, Trump's lawyers, presumably at his behest, were determined to deny everything, starting with Daniels' story about sex with Trump at a Lake Tahoe hotel during a celebrity golf tournament in July 2006.
That strategy invited embarrassingly detailed testimony by Daniels, who described a presumptuous Trump abruptly disrobing while she was in the bathroom before engaging in a "brief," condomless sexual encounter "in the missionary position." Contrary to her previous accounts, Daniels implied that the sex was less than fully consensual, citing "an imbalance of power," noting the presence of a bodyguard at the door to Trump's hotel suite, saying Trump's failure to use a condom worried her, and describing her own mental state as hazy, although she added that she was not drunk and had not been drugged.
None of this was legally relevant. When it came to the questions of whether Trump had caused the falsification of business records and his intent in doing so, it did not matter exactly what happened in that hotel suite. Even if Daniels had made the whole thing up, Trump still would have been keen to keep her quiet, whether for personal reasons, business reasons, political reasons, or some combination of the three.
The defense team also insisted that Trump really thought he was paying Cohen for legal work, even though Trump had publicly admitted that he reimbursed Cohen for the Daniels payment. And Trump's lawyers disputed that he "knew about this payment" at the time, even though it defies belief to suppose that Cohen, who was eager to please Trump and conferred with him frequently, would have hatched this scheme on his own, or that he would have fronted $130,000 of his own money without the promise of reimbursement.
Whether Trump approved the misleading records related to Cohen's reimbursement, as Cohen claimed, is less clear. Trump's lawyers hammered at Cohen's credibility on that point, saying jurors should not trust a convicted felon, disbarred lawyer, and admitted liar with a powerful grudge against his former boss. But because they were also implausibly claiming that Cohen lied when he said Trump approved the Daniels payoff, the jurors may have discounted any doubts about the veracity of Cohen's account.
If Trump had been willing to concede some of the prosecution's allegations, his lawyers could have focused on the shaky legal argument for charging him with felonies. They not only failed to do that in a cogent way; they insisted on jury instructions that ruled out convicting Trump of misdemeanors rather than felonies.
"Instead of telling a simple story, Mr. Trump's defense was a haphazard cacophony of denials and personal attacks," defense attorney and former federal prosecutor Renato Mariotti observes. "That may work for a Trump rally or a segment on Fox News, but it doesn't work in a courtroom. Perhaps Mr. Trump's team was also pursuing a political or press strategy, but it certainly wasn't a good legal strategy. The powerful defense available to Mr. Trump's attorneys was lost amid all the clutter."
Guilty on all counts: Last night, a jury found former President Donald Trump guilty on all 34 counts. He was convicted of falsifying business records to cover up hush money payments to porn star Stormy Daniels, with whom he had a tryst, in the lead-up to the 2016 election.
Sentencing, which may include prison time but does not necessarily, has been set for July 11. Trump still has appeals to exhaust, and Judge Juan M. Merchan could also choose to seek probation instead of throwing the presidential candidate in the slammer. In other words: There are a lot of different ways this could play out which would still allow Trump to campaign for president (and be elected).
Since this happened last night, we do not yet have polling data on how this verdict will affect the presidential race. But a recent Quinnipiac University poll found that 6 percent of Trump voters would be less likely to vote for their favored candidate if convicted, while "24 percent say they would be more likely to vote for him" and an impressive "68 percent say it would not make a difference." That 6 percent could be consequential in a tight race.
Critics on the left, many of whom are hungry for Trump to receive jail time, and those on the right who are willing to excuse his criminal and norms-shattering behavior time and time again are both frequently wrong, but in this particular case, the legal argument was mighty dubious, writesReason's Jacob Sullum, and the verdict was perhaps reached too swiftly, providing fodder for the argument that this was politically motivated.
"In legal terms, the quick verdict is hard to fathom," writes Sullum. "That's not because there were so many counts to consider, each related to a specific invoice, check, or ledger entry allegedly aimed at disguising a hush-money reimbursement as payment for legal services. Once jurors accepted the prosecution's theory of the case, it was pretty much inevitable that they would find Trump guilty on all 34 counts. But that theory was complicated, confusing, and in some versions highly implausible, if not nonsensical."
The basics: One of the prosecution's basic arguments was that Trump falsified business records with "an intent to commit another crime or to aid or conceal the commission thereof." That other crime would be a violation of Section 17-152, a New York state election law that considers it a misdemeanor for "two or more persons" to "conspire to promote or prevent the election of any person to a public office by unlawful means."
But Judge Merchan told jurors they did not have to agree on what "unlawful means" were used, or what that even means, to reach a unanimous verdict. And prosecutors needed to convince jurors that Trump "knowingly and willfully" engaged in such criminal conspiracy with his fixer, Michael Cohen, which strains credulity: One argument, put forth by prosecutors, was that Cohen "made an excessive campaign contribution, thereby violating the Federal Election Campaign Act (FECA), when he fronted the money to pay Daniels" (per Sullum)—an offense Cohen pleaded guilty to several years ago and a piece of evidence jurors heard but were instructed to use "to assess Cohen's credibility" but not his guilt—but it is in fact quite plausible that Trump did not know that instructing Cohen to pay Daniels was illegal.
"The prosecutors zapped a dead misdemeanor back into life by claiming a violation under New York's election law 17-152," writes Jonathan Turley at The Hill. "The argument is that the crime was committed to further another crime as an unlawful means to influence the election. However, that other crime can be the falsification of business records. So the jury (or some jurors, at least) could find that some documents were falsified as an unlawful means of falsifying other documents."
HOODWINKED: It's all legally shaky, but that didn't stop prosecutors from making wild arguments (as they do), like one that the hush-money payment (also called "[an] effort to hoodwink the American voter") "could very well be what got President Trump elected" in 2016, and that the cover-up of the Daniels affair amounted to "a subversion of democracy" meant to "manipulate and defraud the voters."
The payment to Daniels "turned out to be one of the most valuable contributions anyone ever made to Trump," Prosecutor Joshua Steinglass argued at one point. But, ultimately, jurors were convinced by these arguments—even if much of the conservative legal movement and punditry (even those who aren't Trump fans) were not.
As far as appeals, Trump has plenty of "material to work with" writes Ankush Khardori at Politico. "What he's got has almost nothing to do with the salacious and supposedly extraneous details offered by Daniels about her sexual encounter with Trump—after all, Trump and his legal team foolishly invited that testimony themselves by denying its existence—but with the underlying legal architecture of the case, which imported complex principles of federal election law into a state law case about false business records."
Scenes from New York: That's enough New York for today.
QUICK HITS
It's pretty fun to play with this tool—called "Build a Trump Voter"/"Build a Biden Voter"—from The Economist.
I'm here for all shots fired at baby boomers but am not sure whether stinginess—also termed frugality or fiscal prudence—is the concern. Why are we trying to audit an entire generation's consumer spending habits? Who cares?
Are you a libertarian left wondering who Chase Oliver is? Ask no more. Watch Just Asking Questions (and send us hate mail/love letters, vows of loyalty, notes of criticism, anything you desire). Some have said my views, espoused within, are "based" but I still do not know what this word means nor will I investigate.
After deliberating for a little more than a day, a Manhattan jury on Thursday found Donald Trump guilty of falsifying 34 business records to aid or conceal "another crime," an intent that turns what would otherwise be misdemeanors into felonies. If you assumed that the jury's conclusions would be driven by political animus, this first-ever criminal conviction of a former president is the result you probably expected in a jurisdiction where Democrats outnumber Republicans by 9 to 1. But in legal terms, the quick verdict is hard to fathom.
That's not because there were so many counts to consider, each related to a specific invoice, check, or ledger entry allegedly aimed at disguising a hush-money reimbursement as payment for legal services. Once jurors accepted the prosecution's theory of the case, it was pretty much inevitable that they would find Trump guilty on all 34 counts. But that theory was complicated, confusing, and in some versions highly implausible, if not nonsensical. Given the puzzles posed by the charges, you would expect conscientious jurors to spend more than an afternoon, a morning, and part of another afternoon teasing them out.
Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg's case against Trump stemmed from the $130,000 that Michael Cohen, then Trump's lawyer and fixer, paid porn star Stormy Daniels shortly before the 2016 presidential election to keep her from talking about her alleged 2006 sexual encounter with Trump. When Trump reimbursed Cohen in 2017, prosecutors said, he tried to cover up the arrangement with Daniels by pretending that he was paying Cohen, whom he had designated as his personal attorney, for legal work.
Cohen testified that Trump instructed him to pay off Daniels and approved the plan to mischaracterize the reimbursement. Cohen was the only witness who directly confirmed those two points, and the defense team argued that jurors should not trust a convicted felon, disbarred lawyer, and admitted liar with a powerful grudge against his former boss. But even without Cohen's testimony, there was strong circumstantial evidence that Trump approved the payoff and went along with the reimbursement scheme.
The real problem for the prosecution was proving that Trump falsified business records with "an intent to commit another crime or to aid or conceal the commission thereof"—the element that was necessary to treat the misleading documents as felonies. Prosecutors said the other crime was a violation of Section 17-152, an obscure, little-used provision of the New York Election Law. Section 17-152 makes it a misdemeanor for "two or more persons" to "conspire to promote or prevent the election of any person to a public office by unlawful means." But prosecutors never settled on any particular explanation of "unlawful means," and Juan Merchan, the judge presiding over the trial, told the jurors they could find Trump guilty even if they could not agree on one.
According to one theory, Cohen made an excessive campaign contribution, thereby violating the Federal Election Campaign Act (FECA), when he fronted the money to pay Daniels. Cohen pleaded guilty to that offense in 2018 as part of an agreement that also resolved several other, unrelated federal charges against him. Cohen therefore had a strong incentive to accept the characterization of the Daniels payment as an illegal campaign contribution. While jurors heard about Cohen's guilty plea during the trial, CNN notes, Merchan instructed them that they should consider it only "to assess Cohen's credibility and give context to the events that followed, but not in determining the defendant's guilt."
It is unclear whether Trump violated FECA by soliciting Cohen's "contribution," a question that hinges on the fuzzy distinction between personal and campaign expenditures. Given the uncertainty on that point, it is plausible that Trump did not think the Daniels payment was illegal, which helps explain why he was never prosecuted under FECA: To obtain a conviction, federal prosecutors would have had to prove that he "knowingly and willfully" violated the statute.
The New York prosecutors said Cohen and Trump conspired to promote his election through "unlawful means." Under New York law, a criminal conspiracy requires "a specific intent to commit a crime." Trump's understanding of FECA was relevant in assessing whether he had such an intent, meaning he recognized the nondisclosure agreement with Daniels as "unlawful means." Trump's understanding of FECA therefore also was relevant in assessing whether he falsified business records with the intent of covering up "another crime."
That theory assumed three things: 1) that Trump recognized the Daniels payment as a FECA violation; 2) that he knew about Section 17-152, a moribund, rarely invoked law; and 3) that he anticipated how New York prosecutors might construe Section 17-152 in light of FECA. The first assumption is questionable, the second is unlikely, and the third is highly implausible. Yet you would have to believe all three things to conclude that Trump approved a plan to misrepresent his reimbursement of Cohen as payment for legal services with the intent of covering up a FECA-dependent violation of Section 17-152.
According to a second theory, Trump facilitated a violation of New York tax law by allowing Cohen to falsely report his reimbursement as income. Although that violation is described as "criminal tax fraud," Merchan said it did not matter that Cohen's alleged misrepresentation resulted in a higher tax bill. The judge noted that it is illegal to submit "materially false or fraudulent information in connection with any return," regardless of whether that information benefits the taxpayer.
Putting aside that counterintuitive definition of tax fraud, this theory required believing that Trump, when he reimbursed Cohen, not only contemplated what would happen when Cohen filed his returns the following year but also thought that "unlawful means" somehow would influence an election that had already happened. The logic here was hard to follow.
Likewise with the third theory of "unlawful means." Prosecutors suggested that Trump's falsification of business records was designed to aid or conceal the falsification of other business records. CNN reported that the latter records could involve, among other things, the corporate bank account that Cohen created to pay Daniels, Cohen's transfer of the money to Daniels' lawyer, or the Trump Organization's 1099-MISC forms for the payments to Cohen.
Since the 1099 forms were issued after the election, it is hard to see how they could have been aimed at ensuring Trump's victory. And although the other records predated the election, this theory involves a weird sort of bootstrapping.
Prosecutors said the records related to Cohen's dummy corporation, for example, were falsified because they misrepresented the nature and purpose of that entity, which by itself is a misdemeanor. That misdemeanor was the "unlawful means" by which Trump allegedly sought to promote his election, another misdemeanor. And because Trump allegedly tried to conceal the latter misdemeanor by falsifying the records related to Cohen's reimbursement, those records are 34 felonies instead of 34 misdemeanors.
The theory that Trump falsified business records to conceal the falsification of business records was "so circular as to produce vertigo in the jury room," George Washington University law professor Jonathan Turley said. If so, the jurors seem to have quickly recovered from their queasiness. They accepted either this dubious theory, one of the others, or possibly some combination of them. Since unanimity was not required, it is possible that some jurors bought the FECA theory, some preferred the double falsification theory, and some concluded that the case was clinched by a tax fraud with no pecuniary benefit.
To disguise the difficulties with its dueling theories, the prosecution averred that Trump committed "election fraud" when he directed Cohen to pay Daniels for her silence, thereby concealing information that voters might have deemed relevant in choosing between him and Hillary Clinton. "This was a planned, coordinated, long-running conspiracy to influence the 2016 election, to help Donald Trump get elected through illegal expenditures, to silence people who had something bad to say about his behavior," lead prosecutor Matthew Colangelo told the jury in his opening statement. "It was election fraud, pure and simple."
During his summation, prosecutor Joshua Steinglass called the nondisclosure agreement with Daniels "a subversion of democracy." He said it was an "effort to hoodwink the American voter." He told "a sweeping story about a fraud on the American people," as The New York Times put it. "He argue[d] that the American people in 2016 had the right to determine whether they cared that Trump had slept with a porn star or not, and that the conspiracy prevented them from doing so."
Did the American people have such a right? If so, Trump would have violated it even he had merely asked Daniels to keep quiet, perhaps by appealing to her sympathy for his wife. If Daniels had agreed, the result would have been the same. As the prosecution told it, that still would amount to "election fraud," even though there is clearly nothing illegal about it.
The jurors evidently bought this cover story. During deliberations, they revisited the testimony of former National Enquirer publisher David Pecker, a Trump buddy whom prosecutors implicated in that "long-running conspiracy to influence the 2016 election." Pecker's arrangement with Trump, which he described as mutually beneficial, was not the basis for any of the charges against Trump. But his testimony reinforced Bragg's legally dubious claim that Trump engaged in "election interference" when he sought to avoid bad press.
Pecker said he agreed to help Trump in several ways. He would run positive stories about Trump and negative stories about his opponents. He also would keep an eye out for potentially damaging stories about Trump and alert Cohen to them. The latter promise resulted in two agreements that the Enquirer negotiated with Dino Sajudin, a former Trump Tower doorman who falsely claimed that Trump had fathered a child with a woman hired to clean the building, and former Playboy Playmate Karen McDougal, who described a year-long affair with Trump. After paying $30,000 to Sajudin and $150,000 to McDougal for exclusive rights to their stories, the Enquirer sat on them.
Again, Trump was not charged in connection with any of this, and much of what Pecker did was constitutionally protected, albeit journalistically unethical. The fact that the jury nevertheless wanted to be read excerpts from Pecker's testimony suggests they accepted the prosecution's commodious understanding of "election fraud," which did not necessarily require any actual lawbreaking, let alone any attempt to interfere with the casting, counting, or reporting of votes.
In short, there was a glaring mismatch between the charges against Trump and what prosecutors described as the essence of his crime, which is not a crime at all. Since they could not charge him with "election fraud" merely because he tried to hide embarrassing information, they instead built a convoluted case that relied on interacting statutes and questionable assumptions about Trump's knowledge and intent.
That approach suggests several possible grounds for appeal. It is not clear, for example, whether a violation of federal campaign finance regulations, even when filtered through Section 17-152, counts as "another crime" under the state law dealing with falsification of business records. Nor is it clear that Section 17-152 applies in the context of a federal election, where federal law generally pre-empts state law. There are also questions about what is required to prove that Trump had "an intent to defraud" when he signed the checks to Cohen.
Bragg's predecessor, Cyrus R. Vance Jr., after lengthy consideration of possible state charges based on the Daniels payment, decided they were too legally iffy to pursue. Mark Pomerantz, a former prosecutor in Vance's office who worked on the Trump investigation, concluded that "such a case was too risky under New York law." In a 2023 book, Pomerantz noted that "no appellate court in New York had ever upheld (or rejected) this interpretation of the law."
Last week, New York Times columnist David French worried about the consequences of a conviction that is overturned on appeal. "Imagine a scenario in which Trump is convicted at the trial, Biden condemns him as a felon and the Biden campaign runs ads mocking him as a convict," he wrote. "If Biden wins a narrow victory but then an appeals court tosses out the conviction, this case could well undermine faith in our democracy and the rule of law." In his desperation to prevent Trump from reoccupying the White House, Bragg has already accomplished that.
Who, exactly, is Chase Oliver? And what does he really stand for?
Oliver is the Libertarian Party's 2024 presidential nominee, selected after six rounds of voting at a contentious party convention in Washington, D.C., this weekend, which featured speeches from Robert F. Kennedy Jr., Vivek Ramaswamy, and former President Donald Trump, who suggested himself as the nominee to a chorus of boos. Oliver was not the preferred candidate of the Mises Caucus, who remains in control of the Libertarian Party, and several of their higher profile members, such as Dave Smith, have said they will not vote for him, with several accusing him of being too woke, too pro-immigration, and too soft on COVID restrictions. We'll ask him to address all of that today.
Oliver, a 38-year-old sales executive, rose to prominence in the party as the 2022 Libertarian Senate candidate in a highly competitive race in Georgia, where he pulled 2 percent of the vote and forced it into a runoff, which ultimately resulted in the Democratic candidate winning, tipping the balance of the Senate in their favor.
Watch the full conversation on Reason's YouTube channel or the Just Asking Questions podcast feed on Apple, Spotify, or your preferred podcatcher.
To convert a single hush payment into 34 state felonies in the New York case against former President Donald Trump, prosecutors are relying on several interacting statutes, which makes their legal theory convoluted and confusing. Juan Merchan, the judge presiding over Trump's trial, added to the confusion on Wednesday when he instructed the jurors on the conclusions they must reach to find Trump guilty.
Shortly before the 2016 election, Michael Cohen, then a lawyer working for Trump, paid porn star Stormy Daniels $130,000 to keep her from talking about her alleged 2006 sexual encounter with Trump. When Trump reimbursed Cohen in 2017, prosecutors say, he caused the falsification of 34 business records—11 invoices, 11 checks, and 12 ledger entries—that were aimed at disguising the reimbursement as payment for legal services.
Ordinarily, falsification of business records, which requires "an intent to defraud," is a misdemeanor. But it becomes a felony when the defendant's "intent to defraud" includes "an intent to commit another crime or to aid or conceal the commission thereof." The prosecution's theory of "another crime" relies on Section 17-152 of the New York Election Law—a statute so obscure that experts said they had never seen another criminal case based on it. That provision makes it a misdemeanor for "two or more persons" to "conspire to promote or prevent the election of any person to a public office by unlawful means."
Merchan laid out three possible candidates for "unlawful means" to which prosecutors have alluded. One is debatable, while the other two make little or no sense in the context of Section 17-152. Merchan said the jurors need not settle on any particular theory of "unlawful means," provided they agree that Trump was trying to aid or conceal a violation of Section 17-152.
By fronting the hush money, prosecutors say, Cohen made an excessive campaign contribution, thereby violating the Federal Election Campaign Act (FECA). Cohen pleaded guilty to that offense in 2018 as part of an agreement that also resolved several other, unrelated federal charges against him. While jurors heard about that guilty plea during the trial, CNN notes, Merchan instructed them that they should consider it only "to assess Cohen's credibility and give context to the events that followed, but not in determining the defendant's guilt."
It is unclear whether Trump violated FECA by soliciting Cohen's "contribution," a question that hinges on the fuzzy distinction between personal and campaign expenditures. Given the uncertainty on that point, it is plausible that Trump did not think the Daniels payment was illegal, which helps explain why he was never prosecuted under FECA: To obtain a conviction, federal prosecutors would have had to prove that he "knowingly and willfully" violated the statute.
The New York prosecutors say Cohen and Trump conspired to promote his election through "unlawful means." Under New York law, a criminal conspiracy requires "a specific intent to commit a crime." Trump's understanding of FECA is relevant in assessing whether he had such an intent, meaning he recognized the nondisclosure agreement with Daniels as "unlawful means." Trump's understanding of FECA therefore also is relevant in assessing whether he falsified business records with the intent of concealing "another crime."
This theory assumes three things: 1) that Trump recognized the Daniels payment as a FECA violation; 2) that he knew about Section 17-152, a moribund, rarely invoked law; and 3) that he anticipated how New York prosecutors might construe Section 17-152 in light of FECA. The first assumption is questionable, the second is unlikely, and the third is highly implausible. Yet you would have to believe all three things to conclude that Trump approved a plan to misrepresent his reimbursement of Cohen as payment for legal services with the intent of covering up a FECA-dependent violation of Section 17-152.
The other two theories that Merchan mentioned seem even less promising.
According to one theory, Trump was facilitating a violation of New York tax law by allowing Cohen to falsely report his reimbursement as income. Although that violation is described as "criminal tax fraud," Merchan said it does not matter that Cohen's alleged misrepresentation resulted in a higher tax bill. The judge noted that it is illegal to submit "materially false or fraudulent information in connection with any return," regardless of whether that information benefits the taxpayer.
Putting aside that counterintuitive definition of tax fraud, this theory requires believing that Trump, when he reimbursed Cohen, not only contemplated what would happen when Cohen filed his returns the following year but also thought that "unlawful means" somehow would influence an election that had already happened. The logic here is hard to follow.
Likewise with the third theory of "unlawful means." Prosecutors say Trump's falsification of business records was designed to aid or conceal the falsification of other business records. CNN reports that the latter records could involve, among other things, the corporate bank account that Cohen created to pay Daniels, Cohen's transfer of the money to Daniels' lawyer, or the Trump Organization's 1099-MISC forms for the payments to Cohen.
Since the 1099 forms were issued after the election, it is hard to see how they could have been aimed at ensuring Trump's victory. And although the other records predated the election, this theory involves a weird sort of bootstrapping.
Prosecutors say the records related to Cohen's dummy corporation, for example, were falsified because they misrepresented the nature and purpose of that entity, which by itself is a misdemeanor. That misdemeanor was the "unlawful means" by which Trump allegedly sought to promote his election, another misdemeanor. And because Trump allegedly tried to conceal the latter misdemeanor by falsifying the records related to Cohen's reimbursement, those records are 34 felonies instead of 34 misdemeanors.
"One of the three crimes is so circular as to produce vertigo in the jury room," George Washington University law professor Jonathan Turley observes. "The prosecutors zapped a dead misdemeanor back into life by claiming a violation under New York's election law 17-152. The argument is that the crime was committed to further another crime as an unlawful means to influence the election. However, that other crime can be the falsification of business records. So the jury (or some jurors, at least) could find that some documents were falsified as an unlawful means of falsifying other documents."
Because Merchan said jurors need not agree on which of these theories has been proven beyond a reasonable doubt, the rationale for convicting him is apt to be muddled. "The judge has ruled that the jury does not have to agree on what actually occurred in the case," Turley says. "Merchan ruled that the government had vaguely referenced three possible crimes that constitute the 'unlawful means' used to influence the election: a federal election violation, the falsification of business records, and a tax violation. The jurors were told that they could split on what occurred, with four jurors accepting each of the three possible crimes in a 4-4-4 split. The court would still consider that a unanimous verdict so long as they agree that it was in furtherance of some crime."
Merchan's instructions did include a caveat that could help Trump. "He said mere knowledge of a conspiracy does not make [the] defendant a co-conspirator," Fox News correspondent Lydia Hu notes. "Prosecutors must prove intent. Also, being present with others when they form a conspiracy does not mean that the defendant is a part of the conspiracy."
On its face, Cohen's testimony regarding Trump's participation in the alleged conspiracy seems crucial in establishing his intent. Cohen said Trump instructed him to pay Daniels. He also said Trump Organization Allen Weisselberg described the plan to reimburse Cohen during a January 2021 meeting, and Trump did not object. Cohen was the only witness who directly testified on those points, and Trump's lawyers argued that he cannot be trusted, noting that he is a convicted felon, disbarred lawyer, and admitted liar with a powerful grudge against his former boss.
Merchan said "the jury cannot convict Trump on the testimony of Michael Cohen alone because he is an accomplice, but they can use it if they corroborate it with other evidence," CNN notes. "Even if you find the testimony of Michael Cohen to be believable," Merchan said, "you may not convict the defendant solely upon that testimony unless you also find it's corroborated by other evidence." The other evidence is circumstantial. It includes testimony suggesting that Trump was worried about the impact that Daniels' story would have on the election, that he conferred regularly with Cohen, and that he was a proud penny-pincher who never would have paid Cohen without knowing exactly what it was for.
That evidence supports the inference that Trump knew he was reimbursing Cohen for the Daniels payment (which he has publicly admitted). It also supports the idea that Trump recognized that payment as a campaign expenditure and therefore an illegal contribution. But it does not prove that second claim beyond a reasonable doubt, which helps explain why the prosecution offered jurors two other possible theories of "unlawful means." If they are squeamish about the FECA theory, they can instead rely on the tax theory, despite its temporal difficulties, or they can accept the idea that Trump fabricated business records to conceal the fabrication of business records, even though that proposition makes the mind reel.
Since the jurors do not have to agree on the nature of Trump's "unlawful means," Merchan's instructions invite them to convict him based on a hodgepodge of three dubious theories. But if each of these theories is faulty, mixing them together cannot compensate for their weaknesses.
Donald Trump's presidential campaign famously promises to "Make America Great Again." As a rule, no one should think too hard about the meaning of bumper sticker political slogans. But ever since Trump rolled it out nine years ago, his slogan has quietly asked some seemingly unanswerable questions: When was America great before? And when did that greatness vanish, thus necessitating its recovery?
The answer, it turns out, isn't a year. It's an age.
And that age is roughly when you were between 11 and 16 years old—regardless of when you were born. Across generations, Americans seem to believe that the best music, the best television, the top sporting events, and the strongest communities are the ones they experienced in their adolescence and early teen years. That's the conclusion drawn by the data crunchers at The Washington Post, who distilled some fascinating recent polling data from YouGov's survey of Americans' views about different decades.
"The good old days when America was 'great' aren't the 1950s," writes the Post's Andrew Van Dan. "They're whatever decade you were 11, your parents knew the correct answer to any question, and you'd never heard of war crimes tribunals, microplastics, or improvised explosive devices. Or when you were 15 and athletes and musicians still played hard and hadn't sold out."
The charts in the Post's analysis are striking: Across music, movies, fashion, and other social measures, Americans seem to believe that culture peaked roughly one to two decades after they were born and has declined since. The Post and YouGov polling data fits with what other researchers have found: that humans have the strongest sense of nostalgia for the culture we experienced between the ages of 17 and 23.
It's not difficult to deduce why. Those are our formative years, rich with new experiences and potential, in which most of us had few serious responsibilities and got to enjoy the safety of having others provide for our basic needs.
On its own, there is nothing wrong with having golden-tinged memories of those years. Do I still love a lot of music from the late 90s and early 2000s simply because I was born in 1987, even though I can admit that some of it is objectively pretty terrible? Damn right, I do.
But letting nostalgia get mixed up in politics is not a great idea, in part because it's obviously a false promise. Sorry, but no matter how hard you vote, you're never going to be 15 again.
Unfortunately, personal disillusionment is not the most serious problem created by nostalgia politics. As former Reason editor in chief Virginia Postrel explained in The Future and Its Enemies, many of the clashes that erupt in modern politics and culture are the result of a conflict between the forces of "stasis" and "dynamism." Her book remains a powerful argument in favor of letting messy markets work and embracing the improvements that will come from an unknown future—and I'm not just saying that because it came out in 1998.
It seems like nostalgia-influenced politics plays into the hands of the former group, which would prefer a world more strictly controlled, with less creativity and change. That shows up most obviously in Trump's slogan, of course, but also in many other policies pushed by both major parties these days: limiting immigration, restricting development, protecting domestic industries from foreign competition, and so on. It is unfortunately a quick jump from "I wish the world would be more like how I remember it when I was younger" to giving the state more power over your freedom and the freedom of others.
By all means, re-watch those old television shows for the hundredth time. Buy tickets to go see those washed-up rock stars on tour this summer. Just keep your sense of nostalgia out of the voting booth and the public square.
You'll never be 15 again, but please don't ruin the future for the people who aren't 15 yet.
Donald Trump criminal trial comes to a close: During Tuesday's closing arguments in the New York criminal case against Donald Trump, the prosecutor, Joshua Steinglass, argued that the former president "had engaged in a fraud against the American people on the eve of the 2016 election by silencing a porn star's account of a sexual encounter with him," per The New York Times' write-up. Steinglass said that the cover-up, via purportedly falsified business records, of the $130,000 payment to Stormy Daniels "could very well be what got President Trump elected."
"We'll never know if this effort to hoodwink the American voter" was what resulted in Trump's win, Steinglass mused at one point.
This strains credulity, to say the least. This was not the only scandal Trump endured related to sexual impropriety and questions of character. The Access Hollywood tape, in which Trump made his infamous "grab 'em by the pussy" comments, had come to light prior to the 2016 election; I fail to buy that there's a significant contingent of voters out there who would have been concerned by the Stormy Daniels affair, yet fine with the Access Hollywood comments. This is a man whose ex-wife had accused him of rape back in 1990, after all, and who's had quite a few settlements with work underlings related to sexual misconduct claims.
But it will be up to the jurors to decide whether they believe Steinglass and whether Trump should be convicted of any of the 34 counts he's been brought up on. The hammed-up framing of it all, though unsurprising, lends a bit of credence to people's claims that this trial is politically motivated.
We have no idea how long the jurors will deliberate; a decision could come quickly or it could take many weeks. "Jurors will have the option of convicting Trump of all counts, acquitting him of all counts, or delivering a mixed verdict in which he is found guilty of some charges and not others," notes the Associated Press. "If they deadlock after several days of deliberations and are unable to reach a unanimous verdict, Judge Juan M. Merchan may declare a mistrial."
Also: If convicted, how likely is it that Donald Trump would actually go to prison vs. being sentenced to probation, conditional discharge, or community service? Politico has some answers as to how this might play out.
Scenes from New York: On June 6, New York's legislative session will end. Lawmakers are currently considering, before they break for summer, voting on a "bill [that] would require companies that use single-use plastic packaging to find sustainable alternatives or pay a yet-to-be-determined fee, which would go toward covering the costs of municipalities' recycling and waste disposal. New York City, officials said, could reap as much as $150 million in costs," perThe New York Times.
NEW - the U.S. has stopped all humanitarian aid efforts using the DOD-constructed maritime pier, which is now heavily damaged & floating adrift after bad weather.
Who'd have thought — maybe it would have been better to simply deliver aid via #Gaza's 7x land crossings? pic.twitter.com/9I9UQzEstH
Pope Francis issued an apology after using an anti-gay slur in a private meeting with 250 Italian bishops.
"If a recession doesn't materialize soon, it could do lasting damage to the yield curve's status as a warning system," reportsThe Wall Street Journal, "providing one of the most significant examples of how the fallout from the Covid-19 pandemic has upended longstanding assumptions on Wall Street about how markets and the economy function."
An investigation by The Guardian and Israeli magazines +972 and Local Call has revealed how Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu's government "deployed its intelligence agencies to surveil, hack, pressure, smear and allegedly threaten senior [International Criminal Court (ICC)] staff in an effort to derail the court's inquiries." This is on the heels of the ICC's chief prosecutor, Karim Khan, announcing arrest warrants for Israeli leaders, and follows years of complaints by Israelis that the government is wrongly singled out by international organs that were intended to police human rights abuses.
Noah Smith writes about the new Cold War, how China might blockade Taiwan vs. invading it, and about how the U.S. should "prioritize Asia over either Europe or the Middle East."
Juan Merchan, the judge presiding over Donald Trump's criminal trial in Manhattan, yesterday denied a second defense motion for a mistrial. Trump's lead attorney, Todd Blanche, has objected to aspects of porn star Stormy Daniels' testimony about her purported 2006 sexual encounter with Trump, saying some of the details were legally irrelevant and "so unduly and inappropriately prejudicial" that a mistrial was the only remedy. Merchan rejected that argument on Tuesday and again on Thursday, saying the problem that Blanche perceives was largely a result of the defense team's failures during Daniels' testimony and cross-examination.
Among other things, Blanche cited testimony suggesting, for the first time, that Daniels' alleged encounter with Trump was not fully consensual. This dispute illustrates the risk that the salaciousness of Daniels' account will overshadow the legal issue at the center of the case.
Trump is not charged with adultery or sexual assault. He is not charged with trying to keep Daniels from talking about what she says happened, although Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg has misleadingly suggested that the essence of Trump's crime was keeping that information from voters during his 2016 presidential campaign. Trump is not even charged with instructing his personal lawyer, Michael Cohen, to pay Daniels $130,000 shortly before the election in exchange for her silence. Rather, he is charged with falsifying business records to disguise his 2017 reimbursement of Cohen as payment for legal services.
Proving those 34 charges does not require demonstrating that Daniels is telling the truth at all, let alone that every detail is accurate. Under the prosecution's theory, Trump would be guilty of falsifying business records even if Daniels made the whole thing up. And assuming that Cohen's payment to Daniels amounted to an excessive campaign contribution (a characterization that Cohen accepted when he pleaded guilty to that offense in 2018), Trump's falsification of business records would be a felony if he was trying to conceal that violation of federal campaign finance regulations.
There are several problems with that theory, including the fuzziness of the distinction between personal and campaign expenditures, the question of whether Trump recognized that the Daniels payoff fell into the latter category (assuming that it did), the uncertainty about Trump's involvement in generating the relevant business records and his motive in doing so, and the attempt to convert a 2016 federal campaign finance violation into a state felony via a moribund New York election law that apparently has never been used before. But one thing is clear: Trump's criminal liability in this case has nothing to do with exactly what happened in his Lake Tahoe hotel suite during a celebrity golf tournament in July 2006.
Jurors nevertheless heard a lot about that. For years, Daniels has said she consented to sex with Trump. But during her testimony on Tuesday, she cast doubt on that characterization, saying "I just think I blacked out," although she added that she was not "drunk" or "drugged." She also noted that "there was a bodyguard right outside the door" and said "there was an imbalance of power for sure," since Trump "was bigger and blocking the way," although she conceded that she "was not threatened verbally or physically."
When Blanche complained that Daniels had changed her story, Merchan disagreed. "I disagree with your narrative that there is any new account here," the judge said. "I disagree that there is any changing story." Yet Blanche's complaint is at least partially valid.
It's true that Daniels has mentioned the bodyguard, Keith Schiller, before. He figures prominently in the account she gave in her 2018 memoir Full Disclosure. In that book, she also mentions that Trump did not wear a condom—another detail that Blanche described as irrelevant and prejudicial.
"I was surprised he didn't even mention a condom," Daniels says in Full Disclosure. "I didn't have one with me anyway, because I wasn't meeting him for sex. If I had been, I always brought my own, because I am allergic to latex. Back then I used Avantis"—a brand of nonlatex condoms. While Daniels' testimony on that point was similar, it introduced an element of concern that is not mentioned in the book:
Prosecutor Susan Hoffinger: Was he wearing a condom?
Daniels: No.
Hoffinger: Was that concerning to you?
Daniels: Yes.
Hoffinger: Did you say anything about it?
Daniels: No.
Hoffinger: Why not?
Daniels: I didn't say anything at all.
That exchange, Blanche noted, came after Daniels' testimony that the men with whom she performed in adult films were always required to wear condoms. On Thursday, the defense described the discussion of condoms as "a dog whistle for rape." While that may be an exaggeration, Daniels' testimony that Trump's failure to use a condom worried her certainly reinforced the impression that Daniels was doing something she did not want to do.
Full Disclosure leaves a similar impression—up to a point. After a conversation in which Daniels felt that Trump was treating her respectfully and taking her seriously as a businesswoman, she says, she emerged from a bathroom where she had touched up her makeup to find Trump sitting on a bed in his underwear.
"I had the sense of a vacuum taking all of the air out of the room, and me deflating with it," Daniels writes. "I sighed inwardly, keenly aware of two thoughts in that one moment. There was the simple Oh, fuck. Here we go. But there was also a much more complex, sad feeling that none of what he said was true. He didn't respect me. Everything he said to me was bullshit."
Daniels says she "should have…let him know this wasn't okay." But she didn't. "So, here we go," she writes. "It was an out-of-body experience….I just kind of lay there. A lot of women have been there. He wasn't aggressive, and I know for damn sure I could have outrun him if I tried, but I didn't. I'm someone who doesn't stop thinking, so as he was on top of me I replayed the previous three hours to figure out how I could have avoided this."
In her book, Daniels describes brief, sad, regrettable, and unsatisfying sex, but she emphasizes that it was an experience she easily could have avoided. Although she never quite explains why she decided to go through with it, there is no suggestion that she was incapacitated. But in her testimony, she said "I blacked out," which she suggested explained why "I don't remember" exactly what happened. Blacking out is not the same as "an out-of-body experience," which involves feeling detached from your body while fully conscious.
"I was not drugged," Daniels said. "I never insinuated that I was on drugs. I was not drunk. I never said anything of that sort." In a sidebar discussion, defense attorney Susan Necheles nevertheless objected that "she is making it sound like she was drugged." Hoffinger suggested that Daniels merely meant that she was "dizzy," possibly because she was hungry for the dinner that was promised but never materialized—a point she emphasizes in her book and mentioned in her testimony.
Merchan sustained Necheles' objection. But that did not stop the jury from hearing Daniels imply that she was not fully aware of what was happening that night. Combined with Daniels' references to the bodyguard and the "imbalance of power," that description strongly suggested her consent was not only passive and unenthusiastic but the product of pressure and incapacity.
Daniels strengthened that impression by saying she could not "remember how your clothes got off." There was Trump in his underwear, she said, and "the next thing I know" she was "on the bed," naked. Hoffinger asked whether she "remember[ed] anything other than the fact that you had sex on the bed." Not really, Daniels implied: "I was staring at the ceiling. I didn't know how I got there. I made note, like I was trying to think about anything other than what was happening there." That also prompted an objection from Hoffinger, which Merchan sustained.
In Full Disclosure, by contrast, Daniels recounts the sex in considerable detail, calling Trump "a terrible kisser," quoting what he said to her, describing the position he used, recalling the size and "unusual" shape of his penis, and remarking on his crotch hair. While these are just the sort of details that the defense (and Merchan) would deem out of bounds, they contradict the idea that Daniels was just "staring at the ceiling," that she didn't know "how I got there," or that she was only dimly aware of "what was happening there."
What does all this have to do with Trump's alleged falsification of business records? "All of this has nothing to do with this case," Blanche told Merchan on Tuesday. "The only reason why the government asked those questions, aside from pure embarrassment, is to inflame this jury to not look at the evidence that matters." He noted that Daniels "has testified today about consent, about danger," which is "not the point of this case."
The prosecution argues that the details of Daniels' story matter because they rebut Trump's contention that she invented the whole episode, which in turn goes to his motivation in arranging her nondisclosure agreement and in trying to keep it a secret with phony invoices, mislabeled checks, and fraudulent ledger entries. "Her account completes the narrative of the events that precipitated the falsification of business records," Hoffinger told Merchan. "Her account is highly probative of the defendant's intent, his intent and his motive in paying this off, and making sure that the American public did not hear this before the election. It is precisely what the defendant did not want to become public."
Merchan agreed with Blanche that "there were some things that would probably have been better left unsaid." But he said the fault for that lay partly with Trump's attorneys. "The objections, for the most part, were sustained," he said. "Where there was a motion to strike testimony, for the most part, that motion was granted as well. I will also note that I was surprised that there were not more objections at various times during the testimony….So when you say that, you know, the bell has been rung, the defense has to take some responsibility for that."
Merchan was less patient on Thursday, when the defense again moved for a mistrial. "There were many times when you could have objected but didn't," he told Necheles. She objected when Daniels testified that she "touch[ed] his skin" and when she said "we were in the missionary position," for example, but did not object during the condom exchange, which Blanche later argued was prejudicial and irrelevant. Nor did Necheles object when Daniels described the "imbalance of power" or when she noted that Trump was "definitely several inches taller and much larger" than her. And Necheles' objection to "I just think I blacked out" came late, five sentences after Daniels said it.
Merchan also "chided Mr. Trump's lawyers for missteps during their cross-examination of Ms. Daniels," The New York Timesnotes, "and suggested that the former president's insistence on entirely denying any sexual encounter with Ms. Daniels had opened the door for the prosecution to introduce specific—and graphic—evidence that the encounter did occur." The judge conceded that some details of Daniels' testimony were so needlessly prejudicial that he would have sustained objections to them if the defense had made them. At the same time, he said Daniels could "corroborate her account" by describing details of the encounter because a truthful story "increases the motivation to silence her."
That rationale seems like a stretch, especially since the prosecution has argued that Trump was eager to suppress negative stories even when they were not true. According to testimony that prosecutors presented to establish that pattern, Cohen arranged for the National Enquirer to pay former Trump Tower doorman Dino Sajudin $30,000 for exclusive rights to his story, which alleged that Trump had fathered a child with a woman hired to clean the building. Although the Enquirer investigated that story and determined that it was not true, prosecutors say, Trump was still keen to stop Sajudin from telling it. That suggests Trump would have wanted to silence Daniels even if her story was equally fictitious, making all the quibbling about the details of that story irrelevant.
Israel attacks Iran: Overnight, Israeli forces attacked near Isfahan, Iran, in retribution for Iran's barrage of drones and missiles that hit Israel roughly a week ago.
This round of fighting was started by an April 1 Israeli strike in Syria that struck an Iranian consulate complex and killed three senior commanders and four officers reportedly responsible for dictating Iran's military strategy. But Iran and Israel have been engaged in a shadow war for a long time; recent strikes just bring tensions out into the open.
Iranian air defense systems reportedly intercepted most of the drones. Some flights over Iran's airspace were diverted, while others were canceled. Damage was minimal.
Isfahan is where several of Iran's nuclear sites are located, as well as its uranium enrichment program that's necessary for developing nuclear capabilities. Some of the strikes seemed designed to hit a major military base in the area; but just as Iran's attack barely harmed Israel, the same seems to be true here.
Within Israel, opinion was split. Some engaged in saber-rattling, while others said the attack looked "weak."
"Iran must understand that when it acts against us, we have the ability to strike at any time, and we can do serious damage," said Eyal Hulata, a former national security adviser, on Galei Tzahal (Army Radio). "We have a highly capable air force, and the United States is on our side."
Iranian officials, too, have signaled mixed views. Iranian President Ebrahim Raisi had warned that "the tiniest act of aggression" on his nation's soil would provoke a massive response, and that "nothing would remain from the Zionist regime." But many noted that Iran's attack on Israel—as well as the ample warning given—seemed like it wasn't designed to do much damage. In other words: Both nations have escalated, yes, but also shown some restraint and warranted trepidation, despite posturing to the contrary.
Biden's sticky situation: "Democratic donors covered more than $1 million in legal fees racked up by attorneys representing President Joe Biden in a yearlong special counsel probe into his handling of classified documents," reports the Associated Press. "The use of party funds to cover Biden's legal bills is not without precedent and falls within the bounds of campaign finance law, but it could cloud Biden's ability to continue to hammer former President Donald Trump over his far more extensive use of donor funds to cover his legal bills."
Of course, it's unlikely that will actually happen because that would require an adversarial mainstream media that's interested in actually holding Biden accountable for his duplicitousness.
"Every single time you give to the campaign, we're going straight to talk to voters…we are not spending money on legal bills or hawking gold sneakers," said Rufus Gifford, Biden's campaign finance chair, on MSNBC earlier this month, in a soundbite he was surely proud of. It turns out that this is simply untrue!
Scenes from New York: "At New Jersey's Teterboro and Long Island's Islip airports, dozens of private jets destined for Florida take off at times such as 11:42 p.m. or 11:54 p.m. Over at JFK, a regular flight from San Juan, Puerto Rico, arrives at a seemingly purposeful time: about 15 minutes after midnight. Meanwhile, tax attorneys tell stories of clients idling in their luxury SUVs near the New Jersey entrance to the George Washington Bridge shortly before 12 a.m., waiting for the clock to turn before crossing the state line to New York."
Inside the wonderful world of rich people making sure their residence stories line up in case they're audited, courtesy of Bloomberg. Each and every one of these people? Heroes, in my book.
QUICK HITS
The Appeal published a database of prison commissary prices. Some items available for purchase by prisoners are marked up by as much as 600 percent.
Yesterday, 108 Columbia students were arrested after the school called in cops to attempt to empty a 50-tent encampment that had been set up, called the "Gaza Solidarity Encampment." Video footage here.
Non-iPhone users are apparently being excluded from group chats. Don't worry, Sen. Elizabeth Warren (D–Mass.) is coming to the rescue. Her plan? Break up Apple.
Interesting case study on the use of AI in documentaries:
If true, and looks like it is, this is a major ethical breach.
I say this as someone in favor of using effects, including AI, in documentaries.
Many documentary elements, like in all film, operate at a subconscious level for the viewer. These elements should generate an… https://t.co/DdsNlu6u19
A year after Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg announced 34 felony charges against Donald Trump, the former president's trial is about to begin. Yet people are still arguing about how to describe the case. This debate is not merely rhetorical. It reflects the disconnect between the counts that Trump faces, all of which allege falsification of business records, and the essence of his crime as Bragg sees it, which is hiding negative information from voters.
"Although it has long been referred to as the 'hush money' case," says CNN legal analyst Norman Eisen, "that is wrong. We should call it an 'election interference' trial going forward."
The reason people call it a "hush money case," of course, is that it would not exist but for the $130,000 that Trump lawyer Michael Cohen paid porn star Stormy Daniels shortly before the 2016 presidential election to keep her from talking about her alleged affair with Trump. But Eisen, who served as co-counsel to the House Judiciary Committee during Trump's first impeachment, joins Bragg in arguing that the significance of the case transcends those tawdry details.
"We allege falsification of business records to the end of keeping information away from the electorate," Bragg said in a January interview with NY1. "It's an election interference case." That sounds important, and it calls to mind the federal charges based on Trump's audacious attempts to remain in office after he lost the 2020 presidential election. But this characterization, which Bragg started emphasizing after Special Counsel Jack Smith unveiled the federal indictment last August, is hard to take seriously.
"As this office has done time and time again, we today uphold our solemn responsibility to ensure that everyone stands equal before the law," Bragg said when he announced the New York indictment in April 2023. "No amount of money and no amount of power changes that enduring principle." Underlining that point, Bragg added: "These are felony crimes in New York. No matter who you are. We cannot normalize serious criminal conduct."
Bragg was on firm ground in arguing that felonies are felonies. But why was this "serious criminal conduct"? Bragg's explanation was underwhelming: "True and accurate business records are important everywhere, to be sure. They are all the more important in Manhattan, the financial center of the world."
In addition to that eye-glazing gloss, Bragg presented the seed of his "election interference" argument. "We allege Donald Trump and his associates repeatedly and fraudulently falsified New York business records to conceal damaging information and unlawful activity from American voters," he said.
Mary McCord, executive director of the Institute for Constitutional Advocacy and Protection at Georgetown University Law Center, echoes that take in a recent New York Times discussion of the case. "The falsification of business records seems rock-solid based on the documentary evidence," she says. "The question for the jurors will be Trump's knowledge and intent." McCord thinks "it's a very winnable case for the D.A." because prosecutors "will give the jurors plenty of evidence" that Trump's motive in falsifying business records was "to prevent information damaging to candidate Trump from becoming public just weeks before the 2016 election."
If you read the indictment and the accompanying statement of facts, you will notice a glaring chronological problem with that account: The criminal conduct that Bragg alleges all happened after the 2016 election. Since Trump was already president, ensuring that outcome could not have been his motive.
Beginning in February 2017, the indictment says, Trump reimbursed Cohen for the hush money with a series of checks, which he disguised as payment for legal services. The indictment counts each of those checks, along with each of the corresponding invoices and ledger entries, as a distinct violation of a state law that makes falsification of business records "with intent to defraud" a misdemeanor.
Since all of this happened after Trump was elected, it is clearly not true that the allegedly phony records "conceal[ed] damaging information…from American voters" in 2016 or that the "falsification of business records" was aimed at "keeping information away from the electorate," thereby helping Trump defeat Hillary Clinton. Eisen concedes this temporal difficulty:
Election interference skeptics contend the charges here are for document falsification by the Trump organization in 2017, after the 2016 election concluded, to hide what happened the year before from being revealed. How can we call this an election interference trial, they ask, if the election was already over when the 34 alleged document falsification crimes occurred?
Those skeptics, Eisen says, overlook the fact that "the payment to Daniels was itself allegedly illegal under federal and state law" and "was plainly intended to influence the 2016 election." Although Cohen "was limited by law to $2,700 in contributions to the campaign," Eisen writes, "he transferred $130,000 to benefit the campaign, allegedly at Trump's direction. That is why Cohen pleaded guilty to federal campaign finance violations (in addition to other offenses), for which he was incarcerated. And no one can seriously dispute that the reason he and Trump allegedly hatched the scheme was to deprive voters of information that could have changed the outcome of an extremely close election."
Eisen glosses over the difficulty of distinguishing between personal and campaign expenditures in this context, which is crucial in proving a violation of federal campaign finance regulations. That difficulty helps explain why the Justice Department never prosecuted Trump for allegedly directing Cohen to make an excessive campaign contribution. Contrary to what Eisen says, there is a serious dispute about whether Trump "knowingly and willfully" violated federal election law.
In any case, it is too late to prosecute that alleged crime. And even if it weren't, Bragg would have no authority to enforce federal law.
Falsification of business records can be treated as a felony only if the defendant's "intent to defraud includes an intent to commit another crime or to aid or conceal the commission thereof." Bragg has mentioned a violation of the Federal Election Campaign Act as one possible candidate for "another crime." But it is plausible that Trump did not think paying off Daniels was illegal. If so, it is hard to see how his falsification of business records could have been aimed at concealing "another crime," even assuming that phrase includes violations of federal law, which also is not clear.
The legality of the hush payment is uncertain because it turns on whether Trump was trying to promote his election or trying to avoid personal embarrassment and spare his wife's feelings. The same ambiguity poses a challenge for Bragg in trying to convict Trump of felonies rather than misdemeanors: Did he falsify business records to cover up another crime or simply to keep his wife in the dark?
As Bragg sees it, Trump "corrupt[ed] a presidential election" by hiding information that voters might have deemed relevant in choosing between him and Clinton. But there is nothing inherently illegal about that: If Trump had persuaded Daniels to keep her mouth shut simply by asking nicely, the result would have been the same. Bragg's "election interference" narrative, insofar as it makes legal sense at all, requires showing that Trump not only tried to prevent a scandal but committed one or more crimes toward that end.
"People want the hush money case to be the big case that can take down Trump because it may be the onlyone that goes to trial before the election," UCLA election law expert Richard Hasen, one of the "skeptics" to whom Eisen alludes, writes in the Los Angeles Times. But "the charges are so minor I don't expect they will shake up the presidential race."
Hasen rejects Bragg's "election interference" framing. "Failing to report a campaign payment is a small potatoes campaign-finance crime," he says. "Willfully not reporting expenses to cover up an affair isn't 'interfering' with an election along the lines of trying to get a secretary of state to falsify vote totals, or trying to get a state legislature to falsely declare there was fraud in the state and submit alternative slates of electors. We can draw a fairly bright line between attempting to change vote totals to flip a presidential election and failing to disclose embarrassing information on a government form."
Although "I certainly understand the impulse of Trump opponents to label this case as one of election interference," Hasen adds, "any voters who look beneath the surface are sure to be underwhelmed. Calling it election interference actually cheapens the term and undermines the deadly serious charges in the real election interference cases."
"We expect our delegates to encourage the process to continue," No Labels Chief Strategist Ryan Clancy told The Wall Street Journal.
The Joe Lieberman–chaired organization remains convinced, all contraryevidence notwithstanding, that what disgruntled voters most crave as an alternative to Beltway politics as usual is a centrist coalition of establishment office-holders who can out-hawk both major parties on foreign policy.
"The far left wants to abandon Israel," former Dallas Mayor Mike Rawlings warned in an awkward March 5 No Labels State of the Union prebuttal that had 2,600 views in its first two days on YouTube. "And the far right wants to abandon Ukraine."
Is Rawlings a potential candidate to leverage No Labels' ballot access, currently tabulated at 16 states plus the District of Columbia on the way to a projected 32 (with the eventual candidate expected to go after the remaining 19)? Who knows!
"The right candidate is out there," group founder Nancy Jacobson insisted in The Dallas Morning News on February 29. "That's the last piece we need."
What we do know is that the list of politicians rebuffing No Labels' advances grows almost as fast as the organization floating candidate names to the press: former Maryland Gov. Larry Hogan, Sen. Joe Manchin (D–W.Va.), vanquished Republican contender Nikki Haley, and steamrolled Biden-challenger Dean Phillips (D–Minn.).
On Thursday afternoon, TheWall Street Journalreported that "One candidate the group is interested in, according to a person familiar with its discussions, is Sen. Kyrsten Sinema (I., Ariz.), a former Democrat who said this week that she wouldn't run for re-election." Less than three hours later, Sinema ruled it out.
Why wouldn't a brand-name politician jump at the chance to mount a longshot entry into a polarized, razor-thin White House race? Besides the persuasive cooing of good cops (like Bill Clinton) and out-and-out threats from bad cops like the Lincoln Project ("If you have one fingernail clipping of a skeleton in your closet, we will find it…We are going to come at you with every gun we can possibly find"), there is the cruelty of electoral math.
Manchin, one of the best-known names associated with the organization, appeared in presidential polls in December and January. The showing both times: 3 percent.
Third Way, a center-left think tank playing point on anti–No Labels agitation, released a national poll Thursday testing a name-recognition best-case scenario for the unity ticket, Nikki Haley and Dean Phillips. The duo came in fourth place in a four-way race, at 9 percent, behind Robert F. Kennedy Jr.'s 13 percent.
Now imagine that instead of a high-profile former governor and United Nations ambassador who had been campaigning for the past year, you had at the top of the ticket one of the last whispered names that hasn't yet said no, like…former Tennessee Gov. Bill Haslam. Brutal.
For nine years running, the establishment centrist hawkish lane for presidential politics inside the GOP has been narrow and littered with bones, from Haley's to Bill Weld's all the way back to Jeb Bush's. Attempts to assemble a new "common sense" coalition in the patriotic center—Evan McMullin, Howard Schultz, Michael Bloomberg—have largely exploded on the launch pad in a conflagration of dollar bills.
While I may prefer this category's comparative sobriety and willingness to prioritize the long-dead project of tackling America's looming entitlements catastrophe, a decent respect for the opinions of the electorate requires facing that voters just aren't into stentorian Problem Solvers who fret that Washington isn't interventionist enough. And those voters who do finally break free of the two-party grip tend to gravitate toward candidates, issues, and parties that represent a clean break from the recognizable Washington past.
Though No Labels, ever opportunistic on public relations, is expected to formally announce after today's post–Super Tuesday Zoom call that the organization is finally in it to win it, one of its officials' many contradictory quotes about the quest gives a possible future way out.
"If the rank and file of No Labels says to us tomorrow, 'Go for it,'" Lieberman told Newsmax Thursday, "we'll do some last polling to see whether we can actually win, and then we'll choose the best ticket we can."
It's hard to imagine even the most skilled masseuse making any such poll numbers look viable. But the underlying political weirdness of 2024 has yet to manifest in the presidential campaign, and you should never underestimate the intoxicating force of visualizing oneself at the vanguard of power.
In 1920, the perennial Socialist Party candidate Eugene V. Debs ran for president of the United States while serving time in a federal prison for delivering a seditious speech. He received nearly a million votes. His sentence was commuted by his erstwhile rival, the newly elected Republican Warren G. Harding, two days before Christmas in 1921.
No one expected Debs to actually win the White House. His best showing was in 1912, when he captured nearly 6 percent of the popular vote (but no presidential electors). So the nation has never had to seriously grapple with the possibility of someone winning the presidency while behind bars.
It might be time to think more seriously about that contingency. The Donald Trump years have brought many strange constitutional hypotheticals to life, and Trump promises more to come if he has a second term, recently demanding, for example, the courts must recognize "COMPLETE & TOTAL PRESIDENTIAL IMMUNITY" from all criminal acts that he might commit during a term of office. The 2024 elections promise more possibilities even before we get to serious third party candidacies or faithless electors.
Trump has not yet been outfitted with an orange jumpsuit, but stranger things have happened. The former president is now defending himself against four separate criminal indictments. The wheels of justice turn slowly, and these cases are unusually complicated. Moreover, Trump has an incentive to throw up as many procedural obstacles as possible with an expectation (an expectation that has not been legally tested) that all pending prosecutions will be put on hold if he were to return to the White House.
It is a decent bet that none of his criminal trials will reach a conclusion before November. But there is a genuine possibility that one or more of his trials could reach a verdict by Election Day. No doubt some of these prosecutions were brought with the hope of knocking Trump off the ballot, or at least damaging his candidacy, and some resemble more of a political Hail Mary than an ordinary criminal prosecution, but Trump faces a serious risk of conviction in at least some of them.
To briefly review, Trump is charged with election interference in New York, with a conspiracy to steal the 2020 election in Georgia, with mishandling national security documents and obstruction of justice in Florida, and with defrauding the federal government and obstructing a government proceeding in Washington, D.C. The first two of those cases were brought in state courts under state law by state prosecutors, and the other two were brought in federal courts under federal law by Department of Justice special counsel Jack Smith.
Of course, even if he were found guilty of a criminal charge in one or more of those cases, Trump could be expected to file appeals to those convictions. He would likely be released pending his appeals, which further reduces the likelihood that he would be serving a criminal sentence at the time of the election or even Inauguration Day.
There is nothing in the Constitution that prevents a current inmate of a state or federal penitentiary from running for or winning the presidency. Unsurprisingly, the constitutional framers did not anticipate the possibility that the American electorate might make such a choice, and so did not think to account for the possibility. Thus, we must now consider what would happen were Trump to be both criminally convicted and elected president.
If Trump is cooling his heels in the big house when Inauguration Day arrives, he could simply be sworn in as president in his prison cell. The presidential oath can be taken wherever the presidential designate happens to be at the time of his ascension to the office. Nothing says the president cannot be a convict, though the Department of Justice has insisted (when this was a live question under Nixon and Clinton) that a sitting president cannot be prosecuted. Joe Biden will stay out of prison—at least until he moves out of the White House.
Whether or not a president-elect is behind bars in the weeks after the election, what might we expect to happen?
1. A Pre-Inauguration Pardon
The most likely scenario might be that Trump would receive a pardon, or at least a commutation of his sentence, before Inauguration Day. The prospect of a president being sworn into office while behind bars is such a national embarrassment and potential constitutional crisis that responsible government officials may decide it necessary to spare the nation that particular nightmare.
When President Gerald Ford issued a pardon to former President Richard Nixon in September 1974, he explained: "My conscience tells me clearly and certainly that I cannot prolong the bad dreams that continue to reopen a chapter that is closed. My conscience tells me that only I, as president, have the constitutional power to firmly shut and seal this book. My conscience tells me it is my duty, not merely to proclaim domestic tranquility but to use every means that I have to ensure it."
As expected, the pardon damaged Ford's hopes of winning the presidency in his own right, but he believed the self-sacrifice was worth it to restore some normalcy after the Watergate scandal. The political costs to anyone pardoning Trump are also likely to be severe, but the national benefit of not inaugurating an inmate is arguably greater than that of turning the page on Nixon.
Trump's criminal liability is more complicated than was Nixon's. President Joe Biden could pardon Trump of his alleged federal crimes currently being prosecuted by Jack Smith. Biden's authority in regard to those crimes is plenary, but it expires at noon on Inauguration Day if he doesn't win in November. If Biden were to act at all, it would seem wise to do so shortly after the election rather than letting the situation draw out.
But Biden has no power to pardon Trump for his alleged state crimes. Georgia's Republican governor, Brian Kemp, does not have the authority to pardon Trump of any convictions that Fulton County District Attorney Fani T. Willis might win: The Georgia Constitution vests the pardon power in the State Board of Pardons and Paroles, which is composed of five members, all of whom were appointed by Republican governors. The board may not grant a pardon until a criminal sentence has been completed (or innocence has been proven), but it can commute a sentence when "such action would be in the best interests of society and the inmate." By contrast, New York Gov. Kathy Hochul, a Democrat, may grant reprieves, commutations, and pardons if Trump is convicted in the prosecution brought by Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg.
2. An Impeachment
Perhaps the least likely scenario is that Congress rises to the challenge of what to do about an individual elected to serve as president who is currently an inmate. The House could adopt articles of impeachment holding that the crimes for which Trump had been convicted in state or federal court also qualified as high crimes and misdemeanors. The Senate could then try Trump on those articles of impeachment, with a conviction resulting in Trump's removal from office. Since Republicans currently control the House, it seems unlikely they would take this step. Even if they did, conviction in the Senate would hardly be assured. There are serious constitutional challenges to this path, which would undoubtedly increase the difficulty of persuading a necessary number of legislators to follow along.
First, the federal charges arising from Trump's actions in Mar-a-Lago involve his conduct when he was out of office. Whether a federal officer can be impeached for out-of-office misbehavior is constitutionally unsettled, at best.
Second, the other three prosecutions all involve Trump's conduct while still serving as president, but the Senate has already demonstrated that it is skittish about the prospect of convicting a former officer for misconduct while in office.
Third, the House has never impeached a private individual before he assumed a federal office. A pre-inauguration impeachment would require that the House be willing to take that unprecedented step and overcome the constitutional objections that would necessarily arise.
Fourth, it is not at all clear that the Senate can preemptively bar an individual from assuming office. The Constitution specifies that a sitting officer "shall be removed" upon conviction, but there can be no removal if Trump has not yet been inaugurated. The Senate can follow a conviction by disqualifying an individual from holding future federal office. The Senate has worked on the assumption that it can disqualify someone convicted in an impeachment by a subsequent simple-majority vote. This approach might make disqualification easier to win in the punishment phase, but it would also likely make conviction more difficult.
Congress could minimize some of these constitutional and political concerns by waiting to impeach and convict until after Trump is inaugurated. The newly elected House of Representatives will be sworn in on January 3, 2025, more than two weeks before Inauguration Day. A newly elected Democratic majority could move swiftly ahead with an impeachment of President-elect Trump as soon as the 119th Congress is convened. (Impeachment would presumably be a nonstarter if Trump's electoral coattails bring a Republican House majority.) If it so chose, the Senate could hold off on taking a vote to convict in an impeachment trial until the moment after Trump takes his oath of office. Immediately upon conviction, Trump would be removed from his new office.
Alternatively, the House could wait until Trump was sworn in to vote on articles of impeachment. Delaying the proceedings might avoid some constitutional questions about impeaching individuals before they take office, but it would still not avoid the problem of impeaching an individual for actions that took place before he assumed his current office.
3. A Post-Inauguration Disability
The 25th Amendment is being recognized more and more. Adopted in the wake of President John F. Kennedy's assassination, the amendment provides for the possibility of a still-living president unable to perform the duties of his office. Section 4 of the amendment has been much discussed of late, since it allows the Cabinet to involuntarily strip the president of his powers. There is essentially no chance that a Trump-appointed Cabinet would invoke Section 4 under these circumstances.
Section 3 has been the most used provision of the amendment, and it provides for the possibility that the president might voluntarily transmit to the leaders of Congress "his written declaration that he is unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office, and until he transmits to them a written declaration to the contrary, such powers and duties shall be discharged by the Vice President as Acting President."
Presidents have used Section 3 when, for example, they expect to be under anesthesia. President Ronald Reagan somewhat reluctantly invoked this provision before undergoing surgery in 1985. President George W. Bush invoked it twice while he underwent colonoscopies. In 1988, a distinguished commission recommended that presidents put plans in place for invoking Section 3 in a variety of medical situations that would render the president temporarily unable to perform his duties.
Neither the Constitution nor practice has clarified what might render a president "unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office." Nothing prevents a newly inaugurated Trump from determining that his imprisonment constitutes such an incapacity necessitating he designate his vice president as acting president. As acting president, the vice president could immediately issue a pardon of Trump for any federal crimes. Trump, thus relieved of his criminal punishment, could then inform Congress that he is resuming his presidential duties and fly the coop aboard Marine One within minutes of his swearing in.
Of course, the pardon of an acting president could not reach punishments for state crimes. If Trump finds himself in a state prison in Georgia or New York on Inauguration Day, the 25th Amendment gambit will not work. It is, however, the safest way for Trump to receive a valid presidential pardon after his inauguration.
4. A Post-Inauguration Self-Pardon
Alternatively, a newly inaugurated Trump could dispense with the complications of the 25th Amendment and instead simply issue a pardon to himself for his federal crimes. This would be a legally risky strategy. There are good reasons for thinking that a self-pardon would not be constitutionally valid.
The director of the Federal Bureau of Prisons could presumably be persuaded to take the president's word for the validity of his self-pardon and see to his release. He would likely need a pliant attorney general and Office of Legal Counsel in place to provide legal cover, which would necessitate waiting until such officers could be appointed.
The validity of a self-pardon would undoubtedly be litigated. Trump would no doubt be able to wait out the litigation from the White House rather than from a prison cell. But with such a novel and difficult constitutional question, it is far from certain how the courts would resolve such a case. Ultimately, the question would have to be resolved by the Supreme Court.
If Trump had issued a self-pardon in his first term of office, it seems entirely plausible that the justices might have ruled it out of bounds. As a practical matter, though, Trump would back the Court into a difficult corner if he launched his second term of office with a self-pardon. In that situation, the justices would understand that declaring the pardon invalid would create an immediate constitutional crisis over whether the president would voluntarily return to prison. Faced with such high stakes, a majority of the justices might be willing to swallow their doubts and uphold Trump's self-pardon.
5. A Trump Resignation
There is always the possibility that an incarcerated Trump could recognize that he should decline to serve as president for the good of the country. He could declare his intentions before Inauguration Day or be sworn in and then immediately resign. In either case, the duly elected vice president would become the president.
Such a prison-house conversion seems extremely unlikely.
As long as we're reaching, there are two more scenarios that are at least possible. They are even more far-fetched than the resignation, but this is Trump that we're talking about. Who can say that he might not prefer the unexpected?
6. A Prison Presidency
We've all seen TV shows where an incarcerated mob boss keeps pulling the strings of his criminal organization from his jail cell. Trump is sometimes likened to a mob boss. Perhaps he would enjoy the drama and spectacle of being the leader of the free world from a customized and lavishly appointed wing of a penitentiary. State and federal officials might be willing to make such accommodations, even if they are not willing to simply let Trump go. If he can't go to the White House, then he can make White House operations come to him. He could meet with foreign dignitaries and congressional leaders in the prison yard. His chief of staff could set up shop in the cell next door to Trump's own. Donny from Queens could become The Kingpin.
7. A Presidential Prison Break
These are all legalistic scenarios, even if the legal strategies are sometimes a stretch. But why be limited by mere legalities? Trump likes to toy with raw power.
If he were confined in a federal prison on Inauguration Day, President Trump could simply order any and all necessary executive officers to release him from his cage. If some of those officers were not sufficiently pliant to his demands, he could remove and replace them with more accommodating substitutes. Trump might not bother to supply those officers with even the legal fig leaf of a self-pardon. He could simply order them to act and promise to pardon them if there are any legal consequences for their escorting him out of prison.
Trump would be daring Congress or the courts to stop him. But maybe the lesson he took away from his first term of office was that he could win such a dare.
If he were confined to a state prison on Inauguration Day, President Trump could not just issue orders to his jailers. Things would have to be done the hard way. Trump might expect the U.S. military to rescue the commander in chief from his imprisonment and overawe or overwhelm any resistance it might encounter in doing so. The military would perhaps be unwilling to obey such orders, but that would not necessarily deter him from trying to find a sufficient pocket of loyalists in the federal ranks who would be willing to storm a state prison complex on the president's orders.
The events of January 6, 2021, demonstrated that at least some Trump supporters were willing to riot on his behalf. It is unclear whether he still commands that level of passion, but perhaps there are those who would be willing to take up arms if he were to call out to them. Rather than imagining themselves as American patriots circa 1776, they would instead have to imagine themselves as French revolutionaries circa 1789 as they stormed their American Bastille. Whether taking to the streets to prevent Trump from being taken into custody in the first place or mustering outside the prison gates in an attempt to break him out, they would have no need to wait until Inauguration Day to liberate their hero.
Trump once bragged, "I can tell you I have the support of the police, the support of the military, the support of the Bikers for Trump—I have the tough people, but they don't play it tough—until they go to a certain point, and then it would be very bad, very bad." Very, very bad indeed
What If a Candidate or President-Elect Is Incapacitated?
We are on the path to nominating two presidential candidates well over the age of 75. From an actuarial perspective, this seems unwise.
If a newly inaugurated president were to suffer a major medical event in the moments after being sworn into office, the path forward would at least be clear: The 25th Amendment would kick into gear. If the president were to die, the vice president would become president and would select a new vice president to be confirmed by the Senate. If the president were to be left severely impaired but alive, the president could voluntarily and temporarily turn over his duties to the vice president. If he were unable to do so voluntarily, the vice president and a majority of the members of the Cabinet could vote to temporarily take the powers from him.
If a president-elect were to die before being sworn into office, the 20th Amendment specifies that the vice president–elect would be sworn in as president in his stead. If the president-elect were alive but unable to take the oath of office, the situation is not so clear, but most likely the vice president–elect would be sworn in, perhaps as acting president, and immediately begin to exercise the powers of the office.
Of course, the next American president will not truly be elected until the Electoral College casts its ballots on December 17, 2024. Once the electors have voted, their choice is locked in. If the nominal president-elect were to shuffle off this mortal coil before the electors meet, they could have a relatively free hand to choose someone else, but they most likely would be expected to choose the successful presidential running mate. (In 1872, one of the candidates did in fact die after Election Day and before the Electoral College met. He had lost the contest, so the question of who would get his votes was academic; the electors split their ballots among several figures, with three attempting to cast votes for the corpse.)
If a presidential candidate were to die shortly before the general election on November 5, 2024, his name would remain on the ballot and voters pulling that lever would in reality be choosing a slate of that candidate's presidential electors. If something were to happen to a candidate after the nominating convention but before ballots are printed and early voting begins? Well, then things get complicated, depending on each political party's own rules.
Essentially, if the Republican presidential nomination unexpectedly became vacant, the Republican National Committee would fill the slot using voting rules comparable to those of the national convention. If Biden were to vacate the nomination for any reason before early voting began, the Democratic National Committee would vote for a new presidential nominee.
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