Republican Circus, Republican Monkeys

By Kevin D. Williamson

Wednesday, June 17, 2026

 

The words embroidered on a cushion in my very busy house turn a useful Polish proverb—Nie mój cyrk, nie moje małpy—on its head: “This is my circus. These are my monkeys.”

 

The federal circus, as it turns out, never packs in the tent.

 

A few Republican senators have been making a little noise about the Trump administration’s supposed deal—the agreement to seek an agreement—with Iran. Apparently, there are some in Congress who believe that Congress should have some input here.

 

That’s cute.

 

Trump went to war—illegally—with Iran without so much as a by-your-leave or a desultory nod in Congress’ direction. Congress had no say over how this war started. Congress had no say over how this war was conducted. Congress had no say as to the war’s goals or objectives. And members of Congress—led by such servile specimens as Mike Johnson, the Republican speaker of the House, and John Thune, the Republican majority leader in the Senate—did nothing more than work to maintain a firm grip on their ankles.

 

Radio commentator Mark Levin, speaking on behalf of “we, the people” as is the wont of such broadcasters, demanded:

 

I have asked for days, why can’t we, the people, see the damn MOU?  Not through people briefed by an anonymous person. Honestly, I’ve never seen anything like this. If it is a great outcome for peace, then release it.

 

There is an answer to that question, and it is that Trump does not care what Mark Levin has to say about this or about anything else. I used to have a friendly relationship with Mark Levin, who used to have me on his show from time to time and blurbed one of my books—and one cannot help but admire a man who has made a career in radio with that Gilbert Gottfried-meets-Wallace Shawn voice—but he is, like everybody else in the Fox News orbit, a cheap date where Trump is concerned. He has been, among other disreputable things, a notorious apologist for the attempted coup d’état of 2020-21. Trump knows that Levin et al. will forgive his attempt to illegally hold on to the presidency after having lost an election; by comparison, not being entirely forthcoming about a little bit of text that isn’t going to amount to a picayune pile of pintos is small stuff.

 

Sen. John Thune whimpered that there should be “probably some expectation” that the Senate would get a vote on this. Probably some expectation—forceful stuff, if you happen to be an amoeba. Sen. James Lankford: “We’ve got to have a vote of Congress to be able to solidify [it], long term.” Which is to say, the Republican senator from Oklahoma believes that Congress’ job is simply to “solidify” that which passes out of the executive branch, as if the Senate were a dose of legislative Imodium. Given the conflicting accounts of what is in the deal—Tehran and Washington still do not seem to quite agree about that—Sen. Lindsey Graham, that mighty Hyperion of South Carolina, thundered: “I am somewhat concerned.” 

 

One cannot blame Trump for this. It was not Trump who made Levin, Thune, Johnson, Graham, et al. into such piteous and contemptible figures. They did that to themselves.

 

That is the ironic outcome of setting aside one’s principles—and morality and patriotism—to pursue power vicariously through a corrupt demagogue such as Trump: You lose your reputation but don’t get the power you thought you were going to get—you abandon your honor for nothing, or almost nothing: maybe a little bit of money for the broadcasters and a little more time on the public teat for the time-servers.

 

Proximity to power creates an illusion of sharing in that power, of being part of some great grand thing: I have seen men I thought were serious receive a mere text message from the White House and squeal like a 4-year-old girl who has been presented with a real live unicorn on her birthday. It is unseemly.

 

Upon the triumph of Julius Caesar, Cato the Younger disemboweled himself, preferring to die rather than live a day under a tyrant—and when he regained consciousness and discovered that his friends had saved his life and had him stitched back together, he ripped the sutures out with his bare hands and finished the job. Sen. Graham is “somewhat concerned,” and Mark Levin is out there tweeting on behalf of “we, the people.”

 

The monster always turns on Dr. Frankenstein, and the rabbi always ends up crushed under the weight of the golem. Republicans are pretending to be surprised and put out by all this.

 

Your circus. Your monkey.