By Nick Catoggio
Tuesday, September 03, 2024
For all the agita about last week’s tiff
between The Dispatch and The Bulwark, there’s no daylight
between us that I can discern about what it means to be “Never Trump.”
It means you believe Donald Trump is freakishly unfit for
office, that he threatens the constitutional order, and that he’s unworthy of a
conscientious citizen’s support. The daylight has to do with what sort of
behavior logically flows from that belief: Should anti-Trump conservatives feel
obliged to endorse his Democratic opponent?
Whether or not to support Kamala Harris isn’t the only
point of disagreement between Never Trumpers, though. On Monday the Washington
Post broached the difficult subject of the Maryland Senate race, where
popular former Gov. Larry Hogan, a Republican, is running even with Democrat
Angela Alsobrooks in
the latest poll.
Hogan is a longshot in a state as blue as that, but he’s
made things competitive by separating
himself politically from MAGA populism. His latest ad celebrates him as an
“un-Trump Republican” who “never caved,” the Post reports, and touts the
fact that Hogan ordered the Maryland National Guard to help restore order at
the Capitol on January 6.
In an age of right-wing radicalization, he remains
unapologetically centrist. A Never Trump conservative who lives in Maryland
should have no qualms about voting for him. Right?
Conservative attorney turned ardent Trump critic (and Bulwark
podcaster) George Conway read the Post story and isn’t so sure:
As a registered voter in Montgomery
County, Maryland, I’m torn about this Senate race. A healthy American democracy
requires two competing political parties that believe in the rule of law. One
has to be center-right.
Hogan exemplifies the kind of
politician we need for a new center-right party. And I say this as someone who
may be slightly to the right of him on an issue-by-issue basis.
But to get to where we need to be,
the current Republican Party needs to be obliterated so that it can be
replaced.
So I just may vote for Alsobrooks.
What’s the best approach to reforming the Republican
Party?
Should it be “obliterated,” as Conway argues, with Never
Trumpers lending their votes to sweeping Democratic victories down ballot? Or
should some effort be made to separate “good Republicans” from bad ones and
reward the former while punishing the latter?
To put that another way: To what extent does being “Never
Trump” require one to be “Never Republican” for the indefinite future?
It’s an interesting dilemma. Let’s consider it in terms
of increasing orders of strategic complexity.
Easy mode: The worse, the better.
Beating Trump isn’t enough, the Conway faction insists.
Republicans won’t seek a new direction politically unless his leadership is
repudiated emphatically at the polls, and the only way to do that is to inflict
losses on it at every level.
After all, while it’s true that Republicans have
underperformed in elections under Trump’s leadership, the GOP has had something
to feel encouraged about in every cycle since his ascension. In 2016 it won
both houses of Congress and the presidency; in 2018 it was swamped in House
races but gained two Senate seats; in 2020 Trump overperformed his polling and
the party cleaned up in competitive House contests, nearly flipping the
chamber; in 2022 it regained the House despite disappointments in Senate and
gubernatorial elections.
Republicans have done a lot of losing under Trump, but
they’ve never been uncompetitive. And with the race between him and Harris
tight, a proper repudiation is once again unlikely to happen—unless GOP
candidates get crushed down ballot. A wave of defeats across the country might
at last convince a party hung over from “rigged election” propaganda that
something has gone badly wrong.
So conservatives shouldn’t overthink it. By voting
straight-ticket Democratic this fall (apart from a few exceptions for Liz
Cheney types, if there are any left), they’ll be administering the political
equivalent of a vaccine to America. There might be some side effects
policy-wise in the near term, but in the long term they’ll have immunized their
country from the civic menace of populist authoritarianism.
That’s Conway’s position, as I understand it. The
counterargument is this: How many times can you vote for Democrats
“strategically” before you’re voting for them earnestly?
What people like Steve Hayes worry about, I wrote last
week, is that “the conservative marriage of convenience with Democrats for
the mutual goal of defeating right-wing populism will … become a love fest.”
We’ve seen that phenomenon in reverse within the GOP: Reaganites like Sens.
Marco Rubio and Mike Lee who allied themselves with Trump initially for
strategic reasons became
true believers and reliable apologists over time. The political needs of
the alliance and the reception the two received from friends old and new
created psychological pressure that turned them into sincere converts, to all
appearances.
Why wouldn’t the same type of indoctrination happen to
Never Trump conservatives who’ve come to hate the right in its populist
incarnation and to support Democrats in their shared antipathy to it? Before
long, they too will be looking for reasons to justify sticking with their new
tribe.
For instance, no matter how brutally Trump’s party is
beaten in November, elements of Trumpism will linger for years to come. Even if
we end up with a respectable conservative like Georgia Gov. Brian Kemp as the
party’s next nominee, there will remain unsavory constituencies to whom he’ll
need to pander to defeat fringier alternatives. (Right,
Gov. DeSantis?) To a conservative who’s voting for Alsobrooks over
Trump-hating centrist Larry Hogan this year, won’t Kemp’s future MAGA
panders become an excuse to vote against him in four years as well?
Will there ever again be a conservative pure enough to
warrant supporting?
The Conway strategy of voting Democratic down ballot will
inevitably lead Never Trump conservatives to feel more comfortable with
cross-party voting into the future. That’s not altogether bad—more swing voters
means more reason for candidates to moderate—but it’s destined to erode the
ideological commitment of those Reaganites to some degree as they set up
political residence in the center. Today’s strategic Alsobrooks voter is,
potentially, tomorrow’s Alsobrooks enthusiast.
And all of this assumes that the radicalized right is
even capable of learning lessons from being repudiated at the polls in 2024. A
Conway-style beating for the GOP down ballot could inadvertently feed into
Trump’s next “rigged election” fairy tale by encouraging the belief that only
fraud can explain Republicans losing so many races.
“There’s no education in the second kick of a mule,” it’s
said. If, after multiple electoral kicks to the face, Republican voters don’t
want more sober leadership already then there’s no reason to think one more
this fall will matter.
Intermediate: A matter of incentives.
If you want to encourage the GOP to promote better, saner
candidates, voting for Alsobrooks over Hogan is maybe the worst thing you could
do.
That’s because a national bloodletting in which moderate
Republicans take the same sort of beating as populists do would communicate
nothing about their relative electoral appeal. If Hogan and Arizona’s Kari Lake
were to each lose their Senate races by 10 points, say, right-wing voters
wouldn’t conclude that there’s a systemic problem stemming from Trump’s
toxicity, as Conway hopes. What they’d conclude is that the supposedly
electable moderates like Hogan are actually no more competitive than the fire-breathers
like Lake are, in which case they might as well keep nominating fire-breathers.
(Yes, a Republican losing by 10 in Maryland is quite different from a
Republican losing by 10 in Goldwater-and-McCain country, but good luck
explaining that to them.)
The ideal outcome for Never Trump conservatives, I think,
is if populists perform miserably while Reaganites and centrists beat
expectations. That means voting for Democrat Ruben Gallego over Lake in
Arizona—and for Hogan over Alsobrooks in Maryland.
It’s also the ideal outcome if you hope to embolden more
right-wing politicians to stand up to Trump. Hard lessons were learned in 2022
when Wyoming Rep. Liz Cheney was crushed in her primary; making an example of
her was Trump’s way of showing congressional Republicans how steep the price
could be for “disloyalty.” A victory for Hogan would show that, in the right
state or district, “disloyalty” is an advantage. A party that suffers from
endemic cowardice needs to see with its own eyes that courage pays sometimes.
The problem is that it’s not clear how courageous Sen.
Larry Hogan would actually be.
He would be in some respects, if only as a matter of
self-preservation in a state whose electorate is heavily Democratic. If a bill
imposing national restrictions on abortion came to the floor of the Senate,
Sen. Hogan would be a safe “no” vote along with his new best friends Susan
Collins and Lisa Murkowski. On some policy matters, he’d be a true independent.
But what about on nominations?
As liberal as Maryland is, Hogan would still owe his
victory there primarily to the Republican voters who gritted their teeth and
turned out for him despite his animosity toward Trump. He stands a chance in
November only by dominating on the right and peeling off a small but meaningful
minority of the left.
Those Republican voters will expect things from him in
return for their willingness to let bygones be bygones. So when President Trump
nominates Aileen
Cannon or Mike “Brain
Worms” Lee to fill a Supreme Court seat, would Sen. Hogan dare vote
no—especially if he ended up as the deciding vote, a scenario that’s not
unlikely given how tight the Senate next year is shaping up to be?
I suspect he’d vote yes, feeling a duty to support his
party in certain high-stakes confrontations ahead of his next Senate primary
and wanting to reserve his political capital as an independent-minded centrist
for other fights. And if he did, he’d have repaid the support of the Never
Trumpers in Maryland who voted for him by … giving Trumpism a presence for
decades to come on the highest court in the land.
Justice Cannon might be there 40 years from now, still
handing down rulings. And she never would have been confirmed had Reaganite
conservatives listened to George Conway and voted for Angela Alsobrooks
instead.
There will be many dubious yet consequential nominations
like that for executive and judicial vacancies in a second Trump term, and in
some cases the core criticism of the nominee will simply be that he or she is too
willing to do the president’s bidding. Is Larry Hogan, a member of the
Republican Party, really going to disqualify Trump’s candidates for no
better reason than that they’re “too loyal” to the leader of that party? I’m
skeptical.
And while he’s been admirably steadfast in keeping Trump
at arm’s length relative to practically everyone else in the GOP, we’ve all
seen too many body-snatcher-type
conversions since 2016 to feel completely confident that Hogan will remain
the stalwart “un-Trump Republican” that he is today. He’ll never go full MAGA
like Lee (I think) but the Conway faction of Never Trumpers might fairly
warn us that no one who’s stuck with the party for this long can be totally
trusted.
If your top priority as a Maryland voter is a senator
who’ll always resist Trump when the chips are down, Alsobrooks is the only game
in town.
Difficult: The long game.
At this level of strategic thinking, it’s not enough to
consider what burning down the GOP would do to the GOP. We also need to
consider what it would do to the other party.
Democrats have a beast of a task in trying to retain
their Senate majority this fall but a significant number of Never Trump
crossover votes would open up possibilities. Perhaps the Conway approach would
lead Sen. Jon Tester to eke out a win in Montana. Or it might send Democrat
Colin Allred to an upset victory over Sen. Ted Cruz with help from Texas
conservatives (like me) who believe that abetting
a coup attempt should carry an electoral penalty of some kind.
Angela Alsobrooks could plausibly be the 50th Democratic
vote in the Senate, propelled to a narrow victory in Maryland by Never Trump
conservatives. And if the bloodletting down ballot is enough for Democrats to
hold the Senate, it’ll also surely be enough to flip the House and carry Kamala
Harris to the presidency.
Consider what their party might do with unified control
of government once the left began calling in favors from the White House for
helping Harris to victory.
The filibuster would be nuked in short order as the
president and her Senate allies scrambled to make good on her promise to restore
the Roe regime on abortion. With the supermajority requirement gone,
progressives would soon demand action on the massive
voting-rights package the party proposed in 2021. Calls to grant statehood
(and two new senators) to Washington, D.C., and Puerto Rico would follow. Some
sort of court-packing scheme would be pushed.
There won’t be any Joe Manchin or Kyrsten Sinema in the
new Senate majority to say no.
Maybe the new and improved centrist-y President Kamala
Harris would say no (probably not to the abortion revival, though), causing a
bitter rift on the left and driving her job approval into the toilet. But even
if she did, progressive agitation for the sort of power grabs I’ve described
would send the right into a panic. A party that might
have fractured after losing yet another presidential election in 2024 will
be pulled together by its shared horror and rage at Democratic overreach.
In that scenario, imagine the sort of candidates that the
unified, even more radicalized right will nominate in 2026 to try to
take back Congress from Harris and her party. It won’t be Hogan-esque moderates
or Reaganite conservatives, as all of those would have been culled in the
burn-it-all bloodletting of 2024. It’ll be insurrectionist cranks as far as the
eye can see.
Granted, Democrats had good luck fending off those cranks
in the 2022 midterms, but the result that year was the exception to the modern
rule. The Conway approach of straight-ticket anti-Republican voting this fall
could feasibly produce a fringier GOP within two years that’s nonetheless
capable of riding anti-incumbent sentiment to a congressional majority,
particularly if there’s an economic downturn between now and then.
And that result would have implications for 2028. If
mainstream Republicans are “obliterated” this year and a radicalized class of
candidates prevails in 2026, that’ll make Brian Kemp’s electability case for
old-school conservatism a lot less persuasive in the next presidential primary.
Moving on from Trump might be
impossible for the GOP under the best of circumstances, but it’ll be that
much harder in a world where Larry Hogan is losing elections while Laura Loomer
types are winning them.
So, yeah: In the end, I’d vote for Hogan in Maryland this
year.
If he’s destined to lose, and he probably is, better that
he make an impressive show with as many votes as possible in order to create an
instructive contrast with dismal MAGA failures like Lake. And if he wins,
that’s fine too: A Republican Senate takeover, especially one where the balance
of power lies with centrists like Hogan, Collins, or Murkowski, would give
Harris an excuse to govern from the middle and would undermine Trump’s coming
“rigged election” pageant to some degree. (It’ll make for more sensible policy
too, in case anyone cares about that.) Depriving the right of a pretext to
focus on left-wing excesses for the next two years might lead it to do a little
more soul-searching about the electoral cost of its own excesses.
But “might” is the most we can hope for in an age where
one party prefers
fantasy to reality to explain election disappointments. Until Trump is gone
and Republicans no longer feel obliged to defend their leader’s honor by
mirroring his narcissistic paranoia, it probably doesn’t matter how extensive
GOP losses down ballot are. Vote for Hogan if you believe he’d be the better
senator, not in the idle hope that some lesson will be learned. It won’t be.
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