Sick Puppies

By Nick Catoggio

Friday, September 05, 2025

 

Most congressional hearings can be safely ignored, especially at a moment when the majority party behaves as though Congress shouldn’t exist. Thursday’s Senate Finance Committee hearing with Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. is an exception.

 

One thing that made this hearing different was the arrogance of the witness, a remarkable change from the humility and conciliation he displayed during his confirmation hearing earlier this year. Cabinet secretaries don’t typically take a tone with their legislative inquisitors. “The lawmakers Kennedy was chiding not only have the power to investigate his work at HHS; they also control the funds he needs to keep his agency running,” The Atlantic noted.

 

RFK felt free to be himself, I assume, because he understood that he was addressing cowards. The Republicans who confirmed him knew what he would do at HHS, their current expressions of shock notwithstanding, but voted for him anyway because they feared retaliation by Donald Trump if they didn’t. For the same reason, they won’t lift a finger to meaningfully impede his project to destroy public health in America. As long as Kennedy has the trust and friendship of our monarch, and he does, he can be as contemptuous of our contemptible Potemkin Congress as he likes.

 

Another noteworthy element from yesterday’s hearing was how Sen. Bill Cassidy chose to attack Kennedy’s vaccine skepticism.

 

Regular readers know about Cassidy. He’s a doctor—one of several in the Republican conference, ironically, given the party’s hostility to scientific expertise—and provided the key vote that got Kennedy confirmed to his position. On Thursday, he surprised RFK with a gotcha: Don’t you agree that our amazing president deserves a Nobel Prize for helping bring the COVID mRNA vaccines to market so quickly in 2020, he asked?

 

That was a Catch-22, the postliberal equivalent of asking a religious believer whether God can make a rock so heavy that he himself can’t lift it. For a Trump crony, the answer to any question about whether the boss should be getting more praise and recognition is yes, yes, a thousand times yes. But Kennedy had agreed minutes earlier that the COVID vaccine causes “serious harm, including death, especially among young people.” So, which is it: Is Donald Trump a humanitarian icon or a mass murderer?

 

The secretary knew which answer he had to give and dutifully gave it, sidestepping the contradiction in his position by claiming that the vaccine was helpful earlier in the pandemic. What was compelling about the exchange was seeing a Republican M.D. reduced to framing the scientific case for immunization in the most lowbrow tribalist way imaginable. In a movement where loyalty matters more than logic, the senator was more likely to persuade constituents by arguing that anti-vaxxism is an insult to the president than that it’ll get children killed.

 

One could even read Cassidy’s Nobel hype as a sly joke on Trump’s narcissism and the shallowness of his cult of personality. Vaccine proponents won’t talk the White House into defending mRNA vaccines from populist demagoguery by promoting their astounding medical potential, but dangle a prize in front of the king and who knows what might happen?

 

There’s one more reason the hearing was interesting. Sane Republicans don’t typically push back hard on the crank faction when the latter is aligned with Trump, as it usually is and was in this case. But Cassidy, Sen. John Barrasso (another M.D.), and Sen. Thom Tillis all came at Kennedy for the havoc he’s caused at the Centers for Disease Control and the repercussions that mayhem is having for American public health. Their boldness was unusual.

 

What explains it? Is a Republican schism forming over vaccines?

 

A kook minority.

 

There’s no doubt that today’s right is far more skeptical of immunization than the left. There is doubt, though, as to how widespread that skepticism on the right is.

 

NBC News reported yesterday that the Republicans who quizzed Kennedy were privy to new data gathered by GOP pollsters on the subject of vaccination. “There is broad unity across party lines supporting vaccines such as measles (MMR), shingles, tetanus, diphtheria and pertussis (TDAP), and Hepatitis B,” the pollsters concluded, finding “broad agreement that vaccines should continue to be made available at no cost, including two-thirds of Trump voters and more than eight out of 10 swing voters.”

 

Asked whether vaccines save lives, 73 percent of those who voted for the president last fall said yes.

 

A new public poll conducted by CBS News found strong support for Kennedy among Republicans, unsurprisingly—but what is a surprise (although maybe it shouldn’t be) is that those Republicans seem to have little idea of what they’re actually supporting. Just 18 percent of GOPers surveyed agreed that RFK’s policies are making vaccines harder to access; 43 percent of independents and 63 percent of Democrats said so by comparison. Almost as many Republicans believed Kennedy is making it easier to get vaccinated (11 percent) as believe he’s making it more difficult.

 

A third poll—conducted by YouGov in recent days—asked Americans whether RFK tends to follow the science on vaccines or reject it. Democrats split 9-73, independents split 20-49, and Republicans split … 37-25. Relatedly, when CBS News delved deeper into its data on RFK’s job approval, it found that Kennedy’s support correlates strongly with what Americans believe—rightly or wrongly—that his position on vaccination is. Those who think he’s making vaccines less available oppose him all but unanimously, 13-87, whereas those who think he’s making vaccines more available, or has left vaccine policy unchanged, support him overwhelmingly, 77-23.

 

What’s happening seems clear. Most Republicans continue to back vaccines, although not the COVID vaccine specifically, and assume that their presidential hero and his Cabinet share their priorities. They’re not paying close attention to RFK because they trust Trump to do the right thing for America, and the right thing for America, in their opinion, is making vaccination cheap and accessible. So they assume that’s what Kennedy is doing.

 

It’s almost hard to fault them for their ignorance. If you don’t follow political news day to day but vaguely remember Trump spearheading a landmark vaccine moonshot during the pandemic, what would your best guess be about the person whom he chose to lead HHS? That he’s in favor of immunization or against it?

 

If you’re Bill Cassidy or some other vaccine-supporting Republican, you might take in all of the above and think, “This battle can still be won.” The crank faction of the right may be unreachable, but they’re still merely a minority of the GOP; a strong, if very overdue, effort by the top of the party to promote the benefits of inoculation might encourage the pro-vaccine Republican majority to stand firm in their beliefs as Kennedy and the cranks try to turn anti-vaxxism into right-wing orthodoxy. Treating RFK skeptically at Thursday’s hearing was one way to encourage them.

 

In fact, for a few reasons, I can imagine a protracted split developing within the GOP over this issue that’s unlike most other Trump-era Republican divides. There’s an unusual authority crisis in the party around this subject that’s creating opportunities for both sides of the schism.

 

Authority figures.

 

The modern right is a paradox in that it’s at odds on many issues yet united to a freakish degree.

 

An uneasy coalition of postliberals and Reaganites can and do disagree on everything from foreign interventionism to economic protectionism to separation of powers to whether, er, law is good. But because the GOP is a cult led by a single authority figure, those differences are easily papered over once the leader settles the dispute by siding with one faction or the other.

 

Consider how quickly the “end endless wars” bloc moved on from Trump’s decision to bomb Iran. Doves were mad about it, but they knew there would be no durable Republican backlash over the matter. The leader had spoken.

 

What’s unique about the vaccine debate is that the leader doesn’t want to speak. For once, he’s content to keep his head down and let his supporters work it out among themselves.

 

Last month, the Wall Street Journal reported that the president had been heard telling donors “that he wished he could talk more about Operation Warp Speed, the government program he initiated that helped expedite the development of the vaccine.” He’s been spooked by populists’ antipathy to his greatest achievement since they began booing him for mentioning it in 2021. By 2023, he was frankly admitting to interviewers that it was risky for him to discuss it.

 

A man whose strength derives from his ability to turn every issue into a litmus test for his base had failed a litmus test that his base imposed on him. To this day, he remains so skittish around vaccine politics that he won’t go further than to say of the controversy around Kennedy, “Many people think [the COVID shots] are a miracle that saved Millions of lives. Others disagree!” Show us the evidence that mRNA vaccines work, the president demanded of America’s pharmaceutical companies—while being careful not to take a position on that question himself. (Spoiler: They work.)

 

As ridiculous as the idea may seem, imagine how the post-election period in 2020 might have played out among Republicans if Trump had remained similarly agnostic about whether “the steal” had occurred. Without the authority figure intimidating skeptics and egging on kooks, conspiracy theories wouldn’t have gotten as much traction. GOP members of Congress and right-wing media outlets would have been more willing to challenge them. Rank-and-file partisans underwhelmed by the evidence of vote-rigging wouldn’t have felt as obliged by partisanship to pretend otherwise. The naysayers on the right probably would have won the argument, such as it was.

 

That’s the situation that Cassidy, Barrasso, and right-wing media are now facing. They were too gutless and careerist to oppose the president’s pal Bobby when he was up for confirmation, but they recognize that Trump will never allow himself to go full anti-vax lest he forfeit the glory of Operation Warp Speed. The authority figure has ceded his authority over the subject, so pro-vax Republicans are going to try to fill the vacuum.

 

Another unusual element of the vaccine debate on the right is that, for once, there are alternate authorities that rival Trump’s own.

 

Ask Americans whom they trust for advice on vaccination and they’re most likely to say doctors and nurses, as they did in the poll that Republican senators saw before Kennedy’s hearing. Medical expertise lends extra weight to criticism of Kennedy from the likes of Cassidy and Barrasso. Better yet, Americans trust themselves: It makes sense that even most Trump voters would support traditional vaccines for diseases like measles and polio since most have received those shots themselves and remain alive and kicking. It’s hard to scare people about an experience they’ve already had and found not so scary.

 

And because this issue bears so heavily on children’s safety, the average Republican should logically be less willing than usual to defer to Trump on it, let alone longtime Democrat Robert F. Kennedy. It’s one thing to trust the president on, say, tariffs—although you shouldn’t—and quite another to trust him on whether your son or daughter should roll the dice on whooping cough. You, not he, are the relevant authority figure when it comes to your child.

 

Polarization.

 

There’s one more reason that Cassidy et al. might feel moved to go on offense against Kennedy’s anti-vax propaganda. It’s not just that he’s taken a flamethrower to the CDC and is poised to release some cockamamie new pseudo-science about the “real cause” of autism. It’s that anti-vax mania is spreading in right-wing policymaking and getting crazier as it does.

 

One day before the Senate hearing, Florida’s surgeon general announced that the state will move to end vaccine mandates for kids—all vaccine mandates, not just one for COVID. “Every last one of them is wrong and drips with disdain and slavery,” Dr. Joseph Ladapo said, not at all insanely.

 

Ladapo is the fruit of a poisonous political tree. He got his job in 2021 when Gov. Ron DeSantis was preparing to run for president and looking for ways to out-populist Trump. Having already established himself as a right-wing folk hero for opposing left-wing lockdowns, DeSantis decided to go full metal wingnut by placing Florida’s public health in the hands of a man linked to a group that touted hydroxychloroquine as a COVID cure. At his confirmation hearing, Ladapo reassured concerned lawmakers that he was fine with vaccine mandates for students. Now, go figure, he’s had a change of heart.

 

First him, then RFK: Republican legislatures will rubber-stamp any ol’ crank a demagogue places in front of them as long as he’s willing to make empty promises about behaving responsibly in office that no serious person believes.

 

It feels strange as a classical liberal to argue for mandates while authoritarians like DeSantis yelp for liberty, but the logic of herd immunity compels it. With a disease like measles that’s extremely contagious but can be stopped cold by vaccination, the only way to prevent it from spreading is to immunize an extremely high percentage of the population. In a circumstance like that, “my body, my choice” is really “your choice, my body”: If the virus is allowed to circulate, infants and the immunocompromised are at mortal risk.

 

Florida, not coincidentally, is currently below the vaccination threshold needed to stop measles. And now, instead of doing something about it, DeSantis and Ladapo are going to make it worse by lifting mandates entirely. If you still believe that America is a serious country capable of leading the world, meditate on the idea of a high state official comparing a public health initiative that can eradicate deadly illnesses to slavery.

 

I have to believe that Cassidy and Barrasso watched that Ladapo press conference, looked at each other, and concluded that it’s past time to try to derail this crazy train before it gathers any more momentum. Because it’s already gathered quite a lot, you know.

 

They might succeed. Trump’s recusal from the matter—plus a solidly pro-vax GOP base and the alienating fanaticism of figures like Ladapo—means the bipartisan consensus in favor of vaccination could hold, especially if prominent Republicans continue to encourage it.

 

But this is America 2025, buddy. Things rarely turn out for the best.

 

The other way this could go is the left revolting against Kennedy and the Trumpified CDC and inspiring a counter-revolt on the right that drives Republicans further into anti-vaxxism. It may have already begun: Blue states are moving to blunt the legal force of RFK’s policies and to issue their own alternative recommendations on vaccines, potentially turning immunization into another familiar culture war issue hyper-polarized along partisan lines. What happens to support for vaccines within the GOP once the issue becomes a litmus test of whether you trust Trump’s guy or Gavin Newsom more?

 

In fact, idiotic hyper-polarization is how Kennedy got his job in the first place. On social media this week, I repeatedly watched right-wingers whatabout left-wing critics of RFK by reminding them that the CDC botched all sorts of things during the pandemic, sometimes due to incompetence, other times due to more corrupt reasons. It’s because the expert class already destroyed public faith in the institution, the argument went, that the right opted for radical reform with Kennedy.

 

Which is on-brand for populism. “Anthony Fauci told us not to wear masks in March 2020 so now we’re going to let deadly diseases spread” is the modern right in its purest, stupidest, most destructive form. Responding to liberal failures by doing something twice as insane and irresponsible and then blaming the libs for supposedly forcing you to do it is also the argument for reelecting Trump.

 

And so I wouldn’t bet my life that nihilistic populism won’t prevail over Bill Cassidy’s pleas to not let children die needlessly when we have stuff sitting on the shelf that can stop it from happening. Whether it’s Mitch McConnell whiffing on convicting Trump at his 2021 impeachment trial or Cassidy whiffing on blocking RFK’s confirmation, the curse of our feeble Republican leadership class is not seizing opportunities to prevent foreseeable catastrophes and then complaining later when the catastrophe ensues. Good luck to the Republican M.D.s in the Senate trying to somehow put the toothpaste back in the tube this time.