As I used to tell my own children, you should always listen to your mother.
My sister and I were the products of a politically “mixed marriage.” Mother was a Republican and Dad was a Democrat, and they often ended up casting votes that cancelled each other out. There was a limit to our mother’s political conservatism, however–she was deeply suspicious of what she called the “fringe Right,” the Birchers and others who were then seen by the broad majority of the party as kooks and crazies.
Mother didn’t live long enough to see those kooks and crazies complete their takeover of the Republican Party and chase out the more moderate folks we used to lump together as “country club Republicans”– some who were philosophical conservatives and others whose business interests had turned them into anti-tax, “trickle-down” true believers.
Everything my mother thought about what was then the far-Right “fringe” has turned out to be correct. Only worse.
I was reminded of her long-ago criticisms when I read a recent article in Talking Points Memo. (Apologies if this is one of the articles behind the paywall for subscribers only.) The article began:
Whiplash-inducing breaks from long-held party positions have become the norm in today’s Republican Party.
From former president Donald Trump to emerging voices such as Senator J.D. Vance, presidential candidate Ron DeSantis, and North Carolina gubernatorial candidate Mark Robinson, a wave of politicians and activists have signaled an abandonment of Republican orthodoxy on issues that once defined the party.
The party of free trade has become protectionist. The party of Cold Warriors has increasingly backed Russia and opposed aiding Ukraine. The party of less government has grown conflicted about where it stands on Social Security and Medicare.
How can not just a party, but its voters, suddenly change direction on so many bedrock issues?
Or have they?
Ben Bradford, who wrote the column, hosts a podcast series called “Landslide.” He proceeded to answer his own question, asserting that the current Republican Party does not, in fact, represent a change or reversal of course–rather, in his opinion, it represents an evolution. “What seems like a shift on fundamental issues” he says, “is the latest expression of the same underlying force that has propelled voters for nearly half a century.”
Bradford takes readers back fifty years, to the mid-1970s and the “New Right,” reminding us of their opposition to a “range of the era’s social and cultural changes: school integration, new textbooks, gun laws, the women’s rights movement, gay and lesbian rights, and — eventually — abortion.”
New Right organizations included Phyllis Schlafly’s Eagle Forum and the NRA’s further-right cousin, the Gun Owners of America. It also included many of the same conservative groups that push policy positions and drive national debates today: the Heritage Foundation, the American Legislative Exchange Council, and the National Right-to-Life Committee, to name just a handful. These groups shared many of the same founders. Harper’s Magazine described their organizational charts as “an octopus shaking hands with itself.”
Two things that were “new” about the New Right were direct-mail fundraising and–especially– culture war.
The New Right was organized around social and cultural backlash. It created a link between activists working for seemingly unrelated causes–for example, opponents of abortion and opponents of gun laws. Howard Phillips described the goal of the New Right as “organizing discontent.” At a time when the major political parties were still trying to downplay hot-button social and cultural issues, the New Right created a coalition based upon voters’ backlash to culture change.
The article argues that it was a tactic that changed the nature of American conservatism.
Bradford goes on to document how the New Right saved Ronald Reagan’s campaign–a campaign animated by a backlash against a changing culture.
The message of a better past endangered by a changing culture would not feel out of place coming from Republican candidates today. And, the issues they emphasize — opposing the contents of textbooks, the use of race in school admissions, and transgender rights, among others — are the modern descendants of those 50 years ago.
As my mother would have added, that “backlash” coalition wasn’t just angry about social change; it was also a hotbed of bigotry–it was racist, anti-Semitic, homophobic, misogynistic. If it ever gained power, she warned us, Americans who weren’t straight White Christians would be endangered.
The current wave of book banning efforts I referenced a few days ago reminded me of an essay I wrote about the importance of intellectual freedom some twenty-five years ago, for an ALA publication. I dug it out, and decided the observations were still valid–and, unfortunately, even more relevant. So– with apologies for both the length and self-citation– I’m sharing it.
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Not too long ago, I had a conversation with a librarian involved professionally with issues of intellectual freedom. “Sometimes,” she said, “I get so tired of it. I wonder why I continue to fight.” I’ve thought about that conversation several times; if I could do an instant replay, I think I would tell her that I know why she keeps at it. It’s because it is so important.
I spent six years as Executive Director of the Indiana affiliate of the American Civil Liberties Union, and of all the lessons I learned during that time, the most profound was this: the future of western liberal democracy rests on the preservation of intellectual freedom.
If that statement seems extravagant, consider both the ideological basis of liberal democracy and the nature of contemporary threats to that tradition.
Our national history would have been impossible without the Enlightenment concept of the individual as a rights-bearing, autonomous being. That concept is integral to our legal system; it is the foundation upon which our forbears erected the Bill of Rights. The Founders envisioned the good society as one composed of morally independent citizens whose rights in certain important circumstances “trumped” both the dictates of the state and the desires of the majority.
Current assaults on that worldview come primarily, although certainly not exclusively, from communitarians of both left and right. Michael Sandel, Mary Ann Glendon and others complain that the American emphasis on individual rights has gone too far, that it is time to readjust the balance between individual liberty and the “common good.” The “common good” is presumably to be defined collectively; that is, by the majority.
There is enormous appeal to this argument. In a world that seems increasingly complex, impersonal, and litigious, a world over which individuals have less and less control, the notion of “community,” like “family,” offers nourishment and empowerment. Who does not long, in some part of her psyche, for a warm family, friendly neighborhood and supportive tribe, where one is valued and/or unconditionally accepted, and where everyone shares the same life goals and values? Freud suggested that the need to lose oneself in a collective identity is the most ancient, persistent and universal force operating on the human species. The problem, of course, is that majorities can be every bit as tyrannical as solitary despots, and there is no guarantee that my family’s values will be the ones that prevail, or that my tribes’ folkways will be the ones that are followed. The fundamental issue in every society is where to strike the balance between human liberty and communal norms. Ultimately, the debate comes down to a conflict between libertarian and collectivist visions of the good life.
In this war over competing worldviews, intellectual freedom is the battlefront. Discussions of the First Amendment often proceed as if the expressive freedom provisions are separate from the religious liberty clauses. They aren’t. In fact, the First Amendment rests upon a magnificent unifying premise: the integrity and inviolability of the individual conscience. The First Amendment is really an integrated whole, protecting our individual rights to receive and disseminate information and ideas, to consider arguments and theories, to form our own beliefs and craft our own consciences. It answers the fundamental social question– who shall decide? — by vesting that authority in each individual, subject to and consistent with the equal rights of others.
Our whole experiment with democratic governance rests on that foundation. As Alexander Mieklejohn famously observed, a nation that is afraid of an idea–any idea–is unfit for self-government. Implicit in the First Amendment is the legal system’s concept of personal responsibility, the University’s commitment to academic freedom, the moral authority of the clergy, the independence of the media, and the legitimacy of the political process.
Those who oppose free expression rarely, if ever, see themselves in opposition to the western liberal democratic tradition. Most of the people who want to ban the book or painting, who want to protect the flag or the Virgin Mary from desecration, are simply acting on their belief in the nature of the public good. Censors see unrestrained freedom as a threat to the social fabric, while civil libertarians believe the greater danger consists in empowering the state to suppress “dangerous” or “offensive” ideas. Censors see no reason to protect expression of low value–no point in protecting the marketplace for the exchange of shoddy goods. They have enormous difficulty understanding the difference between protection of the principle of free speech and an implicit endorsement of the offensive material at hand. And they have little or no appreciation for the argument that once one hands over to the state the authority to decide which ideas have value, no ideas are safe.
I spent my years at the ACLU battling the usual, recurring attempts to control what others might read, hear or download. I attended a public meeting in Valparaiso, Indiana, where an angry proponent of an ordinance to “clean up” local video stores called me “a whore.” I was accused of abetting racism for upholding the right of the KKK to demonstrate at the Statehouse. I was criticized for failure to care about children when I objected to a proposal restricting minors’ access to library materials. In each of these cases, and dozens of others, the people who wanted to suppress materials generally had the best of motives: they wanted to protect others from ideas they believed to be dangerous. To them, I appeared oblivious to the potential for evil. At best, they considered me a naïve First Amendment “purist;” at worst, a moral degenerate.
My introduction to the politics of free speech really came several years before my stint at the ACLU, when I was retained as local counsel to the plaintiffs in American Booksellers v. Hudnut. The case involved a challenge to an ordinance drafted by Catherine MacKinnon, a law professor, and Andrea Dworkin, a feminist author. Both are well known crusaders against pornography, which they define quite differently than the law defines obscenity, and which they argue is more harmful to women than to men. Their ordinance attempted to define as action (rather than expression) sexually explicit materials depicting the “subordination of women.” Such “action” was then treated for legal purposes as sex discrimination. (“When I use a word,” said Humpty Dumpty, “it means exactly what I say it means!”) MacKinnon and Dworkin had shopped their proposal around the country without much success before they found eager proponents in Indianapolis.
While the Courts would make short work of the ordinance, the politics of its passage was an eye-opening experience. Bill Hudnut was, and remains, a close personal friend; I had been the Corporation Counsel (chief lawyer) in his administration. To this day, despite lengthy conversations, he does not see the implications of the ordinance he signed. Bill had been an active Presbyterian minister before assuming office, and simply was appalled by materials that he felt degraded women. When MacKinnon and Dworkin enlisted a local female Councilor on behalf of their pet project to “protect” women, he was supportive. The Councilor has not been identified with women’s causes either before or after her sponsorship of the ordinance. She has, however, been supportive of efforts to restrict children’s access to videos in the public libraries, and has generally been an ally of the religious right. Her alliance with MacKinnon and Dworkin, widely considered to be “radical feminists,” was surreal.
On the evening the vote was taken, busloads of people from fundamentalist churches filled the Council chambers. To the eternal credit of Indianapolis’ women’s organizations, there was no support from local feminists. Only three people had been given permission to speak against passage–me, as a courtesy shown to a former member of the administration; Bill Marsh, a professor of Constitutional law who was then Vice-President of Indiana’s ACLU; and Sam Jones, the Executive Director of the Urban League. Even Councilors who had great qualms about the ordinance were unwilling to stand against the sea of faces from area churches. (The trouble with representative government, as a friend once bitterly remarked, is that it is representative.) One after another, uncomfortable Councilors rose to “explain” their votes; my favorite came from a longtime friend, who said that —while he had “great respect for Mrs. Kennedy’s legal opinion”–he wanted the record to show that he was “against pornography.” The crowd cheered approvingly.
Most of those who voted for the ordinance knew it stood virtually no chance in court. They were willing to spend some tax dollars to defend it, in order to avoid the pain of opposing the righteous folks who had taken the time and trouble to attend the meeting. And the courts did as expected; Judge Sarah Evans Barker issued an eloquent, ringing endorsement of the principles of free speech in her District Court opinion striking down the measure. The Seventh Circuit and Supreme Court each affirmed, and the case has since become a staple in courses on Free Speech and Constitutional Law.
In many ways, American Booksellers v. Hudnut is a perfect example of what the Founders feared when they warned of “the tyranny of the majority” and the need to guard against popular passions. The majority of citizens saw the debate in very simple terms, as did my Councilor friend: one is either for or against “pornography.” Quibbles about what pornography is, concerns about vagueness or over-breadth, were dismissed as lawyer weaseling; like Potter Stewart, they might not be able to define pornography, but they knew it when they saw it.
For civil libertarians, of course, the issue was very different. We were not arguing for the value of pornographic speech–although we were more open to the possibility that pornographic expression might, in fact, have some value. The issue was–and is–our right to decide for ourselves what books we shall read, what ideas we shall consider, what opinions we shall hold, free of government interference. Once the state asserts a prerogative to determine which ideas we may entertain, the balance has shifted from the right of the individual to the power of the government. At that point, citizens no longer have rights, but privileges that may be revoked whenever the political winds shift. For me as a civil libertarian, the issue is not which books I read; the issue is who decides which books I read?
The western democratic tradition literally depends upon the answer to that question.
Those of us who understand the nature of the debate over intellectual freedom in this way must contend with a formidable deficit in citizenship education. Both at the ACLU and at IUPUI, where I currently teach law and public policy, I have encountered widespread ignorance of the most basic elements of the American constitutional system. We desperately need to improve understanding of the theory of limited government and individual rights –not so that people will necessarily come to the same conclusions I reach, but so that we can at least argue about the same issues.
People try to remove materials from library shelves or the corner video store because they find the materials offensive. They try to prevent Klan marches because they disagree strongly with the hateful message of the Klan. Their arguments are against these particular ideas. They are not generally trying to strengthen the power of the state, nor intending to circumscribe the exercise of personal moral autonomy. Civil libertarians see those outcomes as inevitable consequences of censorship, however, and so those are the issues we address. In a very real sense, it is a case of culture warriors talking past each other.
People like my librarian friend, who see the fundamental relationship between the marketplace of ideas and self-government, who recognize the holistic nature of individual rights, simply must keep trying to make those connections visible to the general public. We must all work to raise the level of familiarity with the underlying principles of the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. We must agitate for more and better government instruction in our schools, and we must insist on more honest discourse from our political leaders and the media. We must constantly reinforce the lesson that the proper response to a bad message is not government censorship, but free citizens offering a better message.
Somehow, we must get the general public to understand that when we use the power of the state to decide what citizens may read or view, we aren’t censoring smut, or protecting children, or prohibiting blasphemy, or respecting the flag. We are undermining the values that lie at the very core of our national identity.
I have previously cited and linked to Heather Cox Richardson’s daily Letters from an American, but a recent one deserves more than a passing mention. In it, Richardson does a masterful job of clarifying the stakes of November’s election.
She begins by reminding us of the events leading up to the choice we will face, reminding readers that–once it had become clear Trump had lost the 2020 election– he’d given up “all pretense of normal presidential behavior.” Not only did he try to overturn the election, ignoring the will of the voters, “his attack on the fundamental principle of democracy ended the tradition of the peaceful transfer of power established in 1797 when our first president, George Washington, deliberately walked behind his successor, John Adams, after Adams was sworn into office.”
Trump has continued to push the Big Lie, and his loyalists in the states have embraced that lie, undermining faith in our electoral system. His theft of enormous amounts of classified materials has compromised national security.
We know all this, although the recitation/reminder is important. But–as historians like Richardson are well aware–past is truly prologue.
Trump is not the same as he was in 2020, and in the past three years he has transformed the Republican Party into a vehicle for Christian nationalism.
In 2016 the Republican Party was still dominated by leaders who promoted supply-side economics. They were determined to use the government to cut taxes and regulations to concentrate money and power among a few individuals, who would, theoretically, use that money and power to invest in the economy far more efficiently than they could if the government intervened. Before 2016 that Reaganesque party had stayed in office thanks to the votes of a base interested in advancing patriarchal, racist, and religious values.
But Trump flipped the power structure in the party, giving control to the reactionary base. In the years since 2020, the Republican Party has become openly opposed to democracy, embracing the Christian nationalism of leaders like Hungary’s Viktor Orbán, who maintains that the tenets of democracy weaken a nation by giving immigrants, people of color, LGBTQ+ individuals, and women the same rights as heterosexual, native-born white men.
Richardson then underscores what most of us who follow politics know–that today’s GOP looks absolutely nothing like the Republican party of the past.
Rather than calling for a small federal government that stays out of the way of market forces, as Republicans have advocated since 1980, the new Trump Party calls for a strong government that enforces religious rules and bans abortion; books; diversity, equity, and inclusion programs; and so on. In 2022, thanks to the three extremists Trump put on the Supreme Court, the government ceased to recognize a constitutional right that Americans had enjoyed since the 1973 Roe v. Wade decision: the right to abortion.
The far-right Trumpers have paralyzed the House of Representatives.
Republican members who actually want to pass laws are either leaving or declining to run for reelection. The conference has become so toxic that fewer than 100 members agreed to attend their annual retreat that began today. “I’d rather sit down with Hannibal Lecter and eat my own liver,” a Republican member of Congress told Juliegrace Brufke of Axios.
Richardson ticks off some of the actions Trump has promised if he wins in November: purging the nonpartisan civil service created in 1883, in order to replace career employees with Trump loyalists; weaponizing the Department of Justice and the Department of Defense; rounding up 10 million people– “not just undocumented immigrants and asylum seekers but also those with birthright citizenship,” and putting them in camps, ignoring a “right that has been enshrined in the Constitution since 1868;” cutting Social Security and Medicare; and being a “dictator on Day One.”
She then enumerates many of the achievements of the Biden Administration, drawing a stark contrast between an incredibly consequential President who has worked within the traditions of this country and an autocratic madman.
Every American following the news can probably point to policies of the Biden administration with which they disagree. That’s par for the course in every administration. Liz Cheney probably said it best: we can survive what we consider bad policy, we cannot survive a president who torches the Constitution.
It is incredibly disheartening to realize that millions of our fellow-Americans harbor resentments and hatreds that this repulsive buffoon has exploited–grievances for which he serves as a vehicle. But I refuse to believe that those angry and limited people represent anything close to a majority. If they did, Republicans wouldn’t be so frantic to suppress the vote.
Click through, read Richardson’s entire Letter–and VOTE as if your life depended upon it, because in a very real sense, it does.
The most positive thing I can say about Indiana’s just-departed legislature is that at least it was a short session.
I have yet to address one of the most offensive bills passed by our legislative overlords: Senate Enrolled Act 202, which presumes to overrule accepted academic standards and procedures in the name of “intellectual diversity.” As numerous professors and other educators have pointed out, the bill is a thinly-veiled effort to combat what its proponents believe is “liberal bias” in higher education. (Unfortunately, as a popular meme proclaims, facts have a well-known liberal bias.)
The bill aims to emulate Ron DeSantis’ war against education and “wokeness”–turning Indiana into Florida, but without the water and sunshine.
Actually, as faculty and students overwhelmingly and unsuccessfully argued, in addition to having a chilling effect on free expression, the proposal is first and foremost an effort to micromanage Indiana’s higher education institutions. And that effort highlights the most prominent characteristic of our legislature’s Republican super-majority: its unbelievable hubris.
Hubris is defined as “excessive pride or self-confidence; arrogance.” It comes from the Greek, and denotes an excess of ambition and self-regard that ultimately causes the transgressor’s ruin. It is the overwhelming trait of the Republicans who control Indiana’s Statehouse.
Do Indianapolis citizens want public transportation? Our legislative overlords will restrict the kinds of transit for which we can tax ourselves (no light rail, for reasons that escape most of us). If we are finally allowed to proceed, self-appointed mavens in the legislature will overrule transit experts on issues of implementation.
Did the City-County Council pass a tax to support special needs in the city’s mile square? The legislature will tell them who can and cannot be subjected to that tax. (Gotta protect those political donors…)
The same hubris that is evident when the legislature routinely overrules local government decisions about transit, taxes, puppy mills and plastic bags extends to the idiocy of Senate Enrolled Act 202.
Included are changes to institutions’ diversity-oriented positions and their policies for tenure, contract renewals, performance reviews and more. It also establishes new reporting and survey requirements based on “free inquiry, free expression, and intellectual diversity.”
Garrison noted that, as part of Senate Enrolled Act 202, Indiana “is one of the few states” that now requires boards of trustees to establish diversity committees on our campuses.
Under the new law, those diversity committees must make recommendations promoting recruitment and retention of “underrepresented” students rather than the “minority students” specified in current law….
The law additionally requires institutions to establish complaint procedures in which school students and staff can accuse faculty members and contractors of not meeting free-expression criteria.
Institutions will have to refer those complaints to human resource professionals and supervisors “for consideration in employee reviews and tenure and promotion decisions,” according to the law.
From a legal standpoint, I would argue that language in the bill is unconstitutionally vague, but of course, that’s the point.
It is glaringly clear that the intent of the measure is to warn professors who might be advancing “liberal” ideas that they are jeopardizing their tenure. Of course, what constitutes a “liberal” classroom lecture and a lack of “intellectual diversity” is pretty subjective–and in our current political environment, subject to constant change. If a biology professor teaches evolution and fails to give equal time to creationism, has she failed to be “intellectually diverse”? Is a professor teaching about the Supreme Court case on same-sex marriage prohibited from agreeing with its reasoning?
And about that encouraging of complaints….
When I taught, it was abundantly clear that most students who filed complaints against my colleagues were students who got poor grades. (I didn’t get any official complaints, but one student did sue me in Small Claims court for giving him a B-, a grade that was actually a gift. He lost.)
There is much more that is truly horrible about Senate Enrolled Act 202, but what is even more troubling than its content is that its passage represents the majority’s hubris and lack of self-awareness. Someone needs to tell these self-important examples of the Dunning-Kruger effect that election to the Indiana Statehouse (courtesy of gerrymandering) is not a grant of authority to rule everything in Indiana.
At some level, Indiana lawmakers must recognize that they’re on thin ice–why else would they adamantly refuse to extend the hours our polls are open, or allow citizen referenda or nonpartisan redistricting?
Until Indiana’s weak, ineffective Democratic Party is able to run credible candidates in every one of Indiana’s gerrymandered districts, Hoosiers will continue to inhabit an autocracy governed by culture-war know-nothings with wildly inflated self-images.
Vocabulary matters. Precision in language allows us to conduct public debates productively; when labels are misused– thrown about without accuracy–arguments about public policy and leadership go astray. Calling today’ s Republican Party “conservative” is more than a harmless misnomer; it is a slur on genuine conservatism, deeply unfair to principled conservatives and encouraging of irrelevant argumentation.
Here in Indiana, we need to call out candidates like Braun and Banks who dishonestly label themselves “conservative” when they are anything but. They are actually radical MAGA populist authoritarians–the antithesis of genuine conservatism.
Peter Wehner is a genuine conservative; he served in the Republican administrations of Ronald Reagan, George H. W. Bush, and George W. Bush, and was executive director for policy for Empower America, a conservative group formed by William Bennett, Jack Kemp, and Jeane Kirkpatrick.
These days, Wehner is a contributing columnist to the New York Times, and in a recent column, he made a number of points that distinguish genuine conservatives from MAGA cultists like Braun and Banks.
The Republican Party has grown more radical, unhinged and cultlike every year since Mr. Trump took control of it. In 2016, there was outrage among Republicans after the release of the “Access Hollywood” tape. On the tape, in words that shocked the nation, Mr. Trump said that when you’re a star, “You can do anything. Grab ’em by the pussy. You can do anything.”
In 2023, Mr. Trump was found liable for sexual abuse. His “locker room talk” turned out to be more than just talk. Yet no Republican of significance said a critical word about it.
The same was true earlier this year when Mr. Trump was found liable for civil fraud. The judge in the case, Arthur F. Engoron, said that the former president’s “complete lack of contrition” bordered on “pathological.” Yet Republicans were united in their outrage, not in response to Mr. Trump’s actions but at the judge for the size of the penalty.
Wehner pointed out that today’s Republicans excuse the January 6th attack on the Capitol and actually glorify the insurrectionists.
At his kickoff campaign rally for 2024, a song called “Justice for All” played, featuring Mr. Trump and the J6 Prison Choir, made up of prisoners charged with crimes related to the riot. Republicans are not only convinced that Mr. Trump was unfairly impeached and unfairly indicted; they are also completely untroubled by his threats against (and slander of) judges, law clerks and prosecutors, not to mention his attempts to influence and intimidate witnesses.
They are fine with the former president referring to “the radical left thugs that live like vermin within the confines of our country” and insinuating that the former chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Mark Milley, deserved to be executed for committing treason. They are fine with Mr. Trump encouraging Russia to attack our NATO allies and comparing himself with Alexei Navalny, the Kremlin’s fiercest and bravest critic, who died while serving time in a remote Russian prison for his political beliefs. They are fine with him suggesting “termination” of the Constitution and with one of Mr. Trump’s lawyers arguing that if as president, Mr. Trump ordered SEAL Team Six to assassinate an opponent, he could be immune from criminal prosecution.
Wehner points out that the pre-Trump GOP would have overwhelmingly supported the recent aid package for Ukraine that twenty-six Republican senators voted against, and he offers several other examples supporting his contention that the MAGA takeover of what used to be a political party is now complete.
Whatever one thought of the Republican Party pre-Trump, it was not fundamentally illiberal or nihilistic; its leaders were not sociopathic, merciless con men, wantonly cruel and lawless. No area of Mr. Trump’s life appears to have been untouched by moral corruption.
I was a Republican for 35 years, and although I was never a conservative of the Peter Wehner variety, his conservatism is based upon a coherent, defensible philosophy of governance–and I agree with his assertion (and that of other principled conservatives) that the GOP is no longer a conservative party. To the contrary.
[Today’s GOP} instincts are nativist, protectionist and isolationist. But the most significant fusion is ethical and moral. The Republican Party keeps getting darker. It has become anti-intellectual, conspiracy-minded and authoritarian, intemperate and brutish, transgressive and anarchistic. And there’s no end in sight.
Mr. Trump is a human blowtorch, prepared to burn down democracy. So is his party.
Whatever today’s GOP is, it’s not remotely conservative.
