theamericanconservative--2020-07-22--The Conservative Inc. to Big Tech Pipeline

Section 230 has become a mainstay of our political news cycle , as Senator Josh Hawley and other Silicon Valley skeptics wage daily war on the controversial law which leaves Big Tech platforms immune to liability for content posted by third-parties on their sites .
Hawley ’ s forceful condemnation of Big Tech ’ s special treatment by the government—despite the clear anti-conservative bias and progressive agenda of many of these companies—is a defining element of a particular , ascendant brand of conservatism .
But heated debates over Silicon Valley ’ s special protection precede the Missouri populist ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ One of the most memorable crusades against Section 230 ’ s unintended consequences saw Sen .
Rob Portman ( R-OH ) leading the charge on the Stop Enabling Sex Traffickers Act—a hard title to argue with—in 2017-18 .
The bill became law with overwhelming bipartisan support .
Only two senators—unflinching libertarian Rand Paul ( R-KY ) and Section 230 coauthor Ron Wyden ( D-OR ) —voted against .
SESTA ’ s easy passage came despite the best efforts of Silicon Valley powerhouses like Google , and suggested that these companies ’ old way @ @ @ @ @ @ @ viable .
For a long time , tech giants could count on strong alliances with the Democratic establishment and the progressive movement , together with the pro-business Republican Party ’ s overall aversion to regulation , to ensure general freedom from Washington interference .
But a strong Republican House through most of the Obama years—followed by Republican control of all three federal branches after the 2016 elections , and a reconsideration of free-market ideology within the GOP—meant that Silicon Valley needed friends in Washington whose names weren ’ t followed by ( D-CA @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a landmark report in December of 2019 detailing the way Google went about making those new friends .
It hinges , in large part , on a single person : six-year employee Rachel Whetstone was promoted to senior vice president for communications and public policy in May of 2011—not long after a wave of Republicans took control of the House of Representatives .
Whetstone is the granddaughter of Antony Fisher , founder of the libertarian mega-donor Atlas Network , and daughter of its current chairwoman .
From the GTP report : In all @ @ @ @ @ @ @ has given money to…at least 22 conservative and libertarian organizations , the GTP analysis shows .
They include the American Conservative Union , American Legislative Exchange Council , Competitive Enterprise Institute , Heritage Foundation , and the Mercatus Center.
” The report is worth reading in full .
It is no coincidence that infamously progressive corporate behemoth Google was throwing wads of cash at conservative groups at just the time that a majority Republican Congress was weighing legislation that might chip away at Google ’ s bottom line .
Even limited liability for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and opportunistic appeals to market-minded Republicans on grounds of freedom and limited government might save substantial amounts of money in the long run .
But even this is just one small part of the bigger picture .
Given SESTA ’ s landslide passage , massive donations to conservative institutions may not have been the winning strategy that Google had hoped .
Now , as a renewed animus against Big Tech takes hold of D.C. conservatives , another strategy is gaining traction among powerful but anxious tech companies—one focused not on money , but @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , the Senate Judiciary Committee—controlled by Republicans and chaired by Ted Cruz ( R-TX ) —rejected a Google witness for a hearing on free speech concerns on Big Tech platforms .
The witness , Max Pappas , had just been hired by Google in March of 2017 .
Pappas was expected to make inroads into the conservative establishment .
He had the background for it , after all : immediately before his arrival at Google , Pappas spent four years as chief economist and director of outreach for… Ted Cruz .
Though this @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s favor , it ’ s indicative of the strategy that Google and other tech companies have been shifting toward in recent years : hiring staffers with strong connections in the D.C. conservative establishment , in hopes that those connections will prove more beneficial than impersonal donations to right-of-center nonprofits .
Pappas ’ superiors , for instance , have resumes that ought to raise some eyebrows .
Karan Bhatia is a vice president for government affairs and public policy at Google .
He came to Google from GE , but before that he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ among a number of other positions in the Bush administration .
Bhatia , who heads up Google ’ s D.C. office , remains well known in the city ’ s conservative circles .
Another Google vice president for government affairs and public policy is even more intriguing .
Mark Isakowitz has been at Google since October of 2019 .
Before that , he spent nearly five years as chief of staff to Sen .
Rob Portman .
The timeline is worth noting : in 2018 , Isakowitz was chief of staff to a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with the full force of its lobbying machine ; within a year , Isakowitz became a part of that machine himself .
Other corporations are taking note , and testing out their own personnel-centered strategies .
Freddy Barnes spent six years as policy director for Rep. Kevin McCarthy ( R-CA ) , during which time McCarthy was majority leader of the U.S. House of Representatives .
Before that , he spent two years on McCarthy ’ s floor team while the congressman was majority whip .
As of June , Freddy Barnes is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , a viral social media company suspected , with its Beijing-based parent company ByteDance , of feeding user information to the Chinese government .
This suspicion has inspired serious talk in the federal government of banning the platform altogether .
Derrick Dockery worked for three years as business and intergovernmental coalitions director for House Speaker Paul Ryan ( R-WI ) , following one year as communications and coalitions coordinator for the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform and two in communications for Rep. Ryan .
As of June , Derrick Dockery is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Barnes , with whom he overlapped on Capitol Hill for six years ( each serving one of the two highest-ranking members of the House ) .
David Urban was a senior adviser to Donald Trump ’ s 2016 presidential campaign , and a key player in both the Republican National Convention that year and Trump ’ s general election victory in Pennsylvania .
Urban has been tapped for Trump ’ s 2020 Advisory Committee , but the veteran politico will have to split his time between getting the president reelected and representing Chinese @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Urban ’ s lobbying firm , American Continental Group , is on the take from TikTok .
These guys are relative newcomers to the scene compared to other Conservative Inc. transplants in Big Tech—especially Chinese tech .
Donald J. Morrissey has spent over 9 years heading up U.S. government affairs for Huawei , another Chinese corporation suspected of unsavory ties to the government in Beijing .
Before taking over lobbying for the foreign tech giant—whose CEO is a former officer in the People ’ s Liberation Army—Morrissey worked on the staff of multiple @ @ @ @ @ @ @ other notable roles in the D.C. conservative establishment .
Among other positions , he was the legislative director of the American Conservative Union .
Nor are these machinations limited to the United States .
One of Huawei ’ s top men in Canada is 36-year-old lawyer Alykhan Velshi .
Velshi ’ s colorful career includes government posts , stints at the neoconservative Foundation for the Defense of Democracies , a host of hawkish op-eds at a multitude of outlets , and a year at the American Enterprise Institute .
These are some of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of Hill and nonprofit staffers who have landed in the tech world is enormous .
Former Steve King aide Robert Babcock is lobbying for Google .
Amazon lobbyist Darren Achord spent nearly a decade on the Hill working for Republican politicians , including Sen. Marco Rubio ( R-FL ) and Rep. Steve Scalise ( R-LA ) , whom he served as deputy chief of staff while Scalise was majority whip .
The list goes on .
Often , the efforts at personal networking have been targeted and direct .
Such was the case @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Once one of Google ’ s most vocal critics in Washington , the chairman of the Senate Antitrust Subcommittee is now all but silent on Big Tech , and at times even openly defensive of it .
This is no coincidence : the Tech Transparency Project has shed light on a concerted effort by Google to curry favor with Lee .
Besides substantial donations—GTP counted at least $ 73,600 from tech-affiliated donors for Lee ’ s 2016 reelection campaign—tech interests began actively recruiting personnel from Lee ’ s circle .
Max Pappas @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in his time as executive director of FreedomWorks PAC .
Bryson Bachman had been Lee ’ s chief counsel on the antitrust subcommittee ; he was hired by Amazon in 2018 .
Meanwhile , Sen. Lee ’ s chief counsel on the judiciary committee , Mike Lemon , went on to become a senior director at the Internet Association .
The Internet Association is worth reflecting on here .
It was formed in 2012 , when the big players in Silicon Valley came together to form a lobbying group that would represent their @ @ @ @ @ @ @ as always , was a leader in the field—this was around the same time that the company was making its connections with the Atlas Network and other institutions of the right .
Other giants like Amazon and Facebook were there at the inception , and the group quickly ballooned from 14 members to 40 .
This rapid growth was thanks , in large part , to the success of its president and CEO , Michael Beckerman .
Beckerman came to the job with plenty of relevant experience : roughly 12 years on Capitol @ @ @ @ @ @ @ staff director of the House Energy and Commerce Committee ( i.e.
, the legislative body charged with the direction of U.S. internet policy ) and chief policy adviser to the committee chair , Rep. Fred Upton ( R-MI ) .
For eight years , from 2012-2020 , Beckerman used the skills and knowledge he had learned at the center of GOP leadership to navigate the ins and outs of tech policy in D.C. , providing invaluable insight to Silicon Valley corporate interests .
His new employers must be hopeful that the longtime D.C. @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to their playbook in the capital .
As of this March , Beckerman is head of U.S. public policy at TikTok .

Section 230 has become a mainstay of our political news cycle, as Senator Josh Hawley and other Silicon Valley skeptics wage daily war on the controversial law which leaves Big Tech platforms immune to liability for content posted by third-parties on their sites. Hawley’s forceful condemnation of Big Tech’s special treatment by the government—despite the clear anti-conservative bias and progressive agenda of many of these companies—is a defining element of a particular, ascendant brand of conservatism.
But heated debates over Silicon Valley’s special protection precede the Missouri populist’s arrival on the Hill by years. One of the most memorable crusades against Section 230’s unintended consequences saw Sen. Rob Portman (R-OH) leading the charge on the Stop Enabling Sex Traffickers Act—a hard title to argue with—in 2017-18. The bill became law with overwhelming bipartisan support. Only two senators—unflinching libertarian Rand Paul (R-KY) and Section 230 coauthor Ron Wyden (D-OR)—voted against.
SESTA’s easy passage came despite the best efforts of Silicon Valley powerhouses like Google, and suggested that these companies’ old way of operating in D.C. was no longer viable. For a long time, tech giants could count on strong alliances with the Democratic establishment and the progressive movement, together with the pro-business Republican Party’s overall aversion to regulation, to ensure general freedom from Washington interference. But a strong Republican House through most of the Obama years—followed by Republican control of all three federal branches after the 2016 elections, and a reconsideration of free-market ideology within the GOP—meant that Silicon Valley needed friends in Washington whose names weren’t followed by (D-CA).
The Google Transparency Project released a landmark report in December of 2019 detailing the way Google went about making those new friends. It hinges, in large part, on a single person: six-year employee Rachel Whetstone was promoted to senior vice president for communications and public policy in May of 2011—not long after a wave of Republicans took control of the House of Representatives. Whetstone is the granddaughter of Antony Fisher, founder of the libertarian mega-donor Atlas Network, and daughter of its current chairwoman. From the GTP report:
Shortly after Whetstone took on her new role, Google began making what would be annual donations to the group her grandfather founded. Google contributed between $25,000 and $99,999 to Atlas Network each year from 2012 to 2015. In 2016 and 2017, as scrutiny of the company intensified, Google upped its support to six figures, between $100,000 and $1 million, earning a spot in Atlas Network’s “Freedom Champions Circle.” In 2018, Google was again giving less than $100,000 to Atlas Network. But by then, it was also directly funding many conservative groups within the network.
In all, the report found that “Google has given money to…at least 22 conservative and libertarian organizations, the GTP analysis shows. They include the American Conservative Union, American Legislative Exchange Council, Competitive Enterprise Institute, Heritage Foundation, and the Mercatus Center.” The report is worth reading in full.
It is no coincidence that infamously progressive corporate behemoth Google was throwing wads of cash at conservative groups at just the time that a majority Republican Congress was weighing legislation that might chip away at Google’s bottom line. Even limited liability for third-party content could cost Google millions, and opportunistic appeals to market-minded Republicans on grounds of freedom and limited government might save substantial amounts of money in the long run.
But even this is just one small part of the bigger picture. Given SESTA’s landslide passage, massive donations to conservative institutions may not have been the winning strategy that Google had hoped. Now, as a renewed animus against Big Tech takes hold of D.C. conservatives, another strategy is gaining traction among powerful but anxious tech companies—one focused not on money, but on manpower.
♦♦♦
In April of 2019, the Senate Judiciary Committee—controlled by Republicans and chaired by Ted Cruz (R-TX)—rejected a Google witness for a hearing on free speech concerns on Big Tech platforms. The witness, Max Pappas, had just been hired by Google in March of 2017. Pappas was expected to make inroads into the conservative establishment. He had the background for it, after all: immediately before his arrival at Google, Pappas spent four years as chief economist and director of outreach for… Ted Cruz. Though this episode hardly worked out in Google’s favor, it’s indicative of the strategy that Google and other tech companies have been shifting toward in recent years: hiring staffers with strong connections in the D.C. conservative establishment, in hopes that those connections will prove more beneficial than impersonal donations to right-of-center nonprofits.
Pappas’ superiors, for instance, have resumes that ought to raise some eyebrows. Karan Bhatia is a vice president for government affairs and public policy at Google. He came to Google from GE, but before that he served as Deputy U.S. Trade Representative, among a number of other positions in the Bush administration. Bhatia, who heads up Google’s D.C. office, remains well known in the city’s conservative circles.
Another Google vice president for government affairs and public policy is even more intriguing. Mark Isakowitz has been at Google since October of 2019. Before that, he spent nearly five years as chief of staff to Sen. Rob Portman. The timeline is worth noting: in 2018, Isakowitz was chief of staff to a Republican senator pushing legislation that Google opposed with the full force of its lobbying machine; within a year, Isakowitz became a part of that machine himself. Other corporations are taking note, and testing out their own personnel-centered strategies.
Freddy Barnes spent six years as policy director for Rep. Kevin McCarthy (R-CA), during which time McCarthy was majority leader of the U.S. House of Representatives. Before that, he spent two years on McCarthy’s floor team while the congressman was majority whip. As of June, Freddy Barnes is employed in U.S. public policy at TikTok, a viral social media company suspected, with its Beijing-based parent company ByteDance, of feeding user information to the Chinese government. This suspicion has inspired serious talk in the federal government of banning the platform altogether.
Derrick Dockery worked for three years as business and intergovernmental coalitions director for House Speaker Paul Ryan (R-WI), following one year as communications and coalitions coordinator for the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform and two in communications for Rep. Ryan. As of June, Derrick Dockery is employed in U.S. government affairs at TikTok—rejoining Barnes, with whom he overlapped on Capitol Hill for six years (each serving one of the two highest-ranking members of the House).
David Urban was a senior adviser to Donald Trump’s 2016 presidential campaign, and a key player in both the Republican National Convention that year and Trump’s general election victory in Pennsylvania. Urban has been tapped for Trump’s 2020 Advisory Committee, but the veteran politico will have to split his time between getting the president reelected and representing Chinese corporate interests: as of January, Urban’s lobbying firm, American Continental Group, is on the take from TikTok.
These guys are relative newcomers to the scene compared to other Conservative Inc. transplants in Big Tech—especially Chinese tech. Donald J. Morrissey has spent over 9 years heading up U.S. government affairs for Huawei, another Chinese corporation suspected of unsavory ties to the government in Beijing. Before taking over lobbying for the foreign tech giant—whose CEO is a former officer in the People’s Liberation Army—Morrissey worked on the staff of multiple Republican congressmen, as well as in other notable roles in the D.C. conservative establishment. Among other positions, he was the legislative director of the American Conservative Union.
Nor are these machinations limited to the United States. One of Huawei’s top men in Canada is 36-year-old lawyer Alykhan Velshi. Velshi’s colorful career includes government posts, stints at the neoconservative Foundation for the Defense of Democracies, a host of hawkish op-eds at a multitude of outlets, and a year at the American Enterprise Institute.
These are some of the big fish, but the catalogue of Hill and nonprofit staffers who have landed in the tech world is enormous. Former Steve King aide Robert Babcock is lobbying for Google. Amazon lobbyist Darren Achord spent nearly a decade on the Hill working for Republican politicians, including Sen. Marco Rubio (R-FL) and Rep. Steve Scalise (R-LA), whom he served as deputy chief of staff while Scalise was majority whip. The list goes on.
Often, the efforts at personal networking have been targeted and direct. Such was the case with Sen. Mike Lee (R-UT). Once one of Google’s most vocal critics in Washington, the chairman of the Senate Antitrust Subcommittee is now all but silent on Big Tech, and at times even openly defensive of it. This is no coincidence: the Tech Transparency Project has shed light on a concerted effort by Google to curry favor with Lee. Besides substantial donations—GTP counted at least $73,600 from tech-affiliated donors for Lee’s 2016 reelection campaign—tech interests began actively recruiting personnel from Lee’s circle. Max Pappas had been a Lee ally, particularly in his time as executive director of FreedomWorks PAC. Bryson Bachman had been Lee’s chief counsel on the antitrust subcommittee; he was hired by Amazon in 2018. Meanwhile, Sen. Lee’s chief counsel on the judiciary committee, Mike Lemon, went on to become a senior director at the Internet Association.
The Internet Association is worth reflecting on here. It was formed in 2012, when the big players in Silicon Valley came together to form a lobbying group that would represent their shared interests in Washington. Google, as always, was a leader in the field—this was around the same time that the company was making its connections with the Atlas Network and other institutions of the right. Other giants like Amazon and Facebook were there at the inception, and the group quickly ballooned from 14 members to 40.
This rapid growth was thanks, in large part, to the success of its president and CEO, Michael Beckerman. Beckerman came to the job with plenty of relevant experience: roughly 12 years on Capitol Hill, in positions that included deputy staff director of the House Energy and Commerce Committee (i.e., the legislative body charged with the direction of U.S. internet policy) and chief policy adviser to the committee chair, Rep. Fred Upton (R-MI). For eight years, from 2012-2020, Beckerman used the skills and knowledge he had learned at the center of GOP leadership to navigate the ins and outs of tech policy in D.C., providing invaluable insight to Silicon Valley corporate interests. His new employers must be hopeful that the longtime D.C. power-player can bring that same inside perspective to their playbook in the capital.
As of this March, Beckerman is head of U.S. public policy at TikTok.


theamericanconservative--2020-07-22--How Presidential Character Will Matter in November

WASHINGTON , DC - JULY 14 : U.S. President Donald Trump speaks to the media in the Rose Garden at the White House on July 14 , 2020 in Washington , DC .
( Photo by Drew Angerer/Getty Images ) It ’ s been 48 years since James David Barber , then chairman of the political science department at Duke , published his seminal treatise , The Presidential Character : Predicting Performance in the White House .
The book is largely forgotten today , but it caused quite a stir when it appeared in 1972 .
Barber , who died @ @ @ @ @ @ @ temperament and personality in assessing how the country ’ s chief executives approached the presidency—and how that in turn contributed to their success or failure in office .
By extension , Barber ’ s prism of assessing presidential character also could be used to predict how particular politicians might approach the White House job should they ever attain it .
I last wrote about the Barber thesis in The National Interest magazine back in 2013 in assessing the temperament and outlook of President Barack Obama ( reprinted on the same website a year @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and I reprise here some of the language I employed then to describe the Barber concept .
I do so as a foundation for assessing the presidential character of President Trump and ( prospectively ) of his presumptive opponent , former Vice President Joe Biden .
Barber assessed presidents based on two indices : first , whether they were “ positive ” or “ negative ” in outlook ; and , second , whether they were “ active ” or “ passive ” in ambition .
The first index–the positive/negative one–assesses how @ @ @ @ @ @ @ challenges of the office ; so , for example , did they embrace the job with a joyful optimism or regard it as a necessary martyrdom they must sustain in order to prove their own self-worth ?
The second index—active vs. passive—measures their degree of wanting to accomplish big things or retreat into a reactive governing mode .
The two indices produce four categories of presidents , to wit : Active-Positive : Presidents with big national ambitions who are self-confident , flexible , optimistic , joyful in the exercise of power , possessing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ regard as a great game .
Active-Negative : Compulsive people with low self-esteem , seekers of power as a means of self-actualization , given to rigidity and pessimism , driven , sometimes overly aggressive .
But they harbor big dreams for bringing about accomplishments of large historical scope .
Passive-Positive : Compliant presidents who react to events rather than initiating them .
They want to be loved and are thus ingratiating—and easily manipulated .
They are “ superficially optimistic ” and harbor generally modest ambitions for their presidential years .
But they are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Passive-Negative : Withdrawn politicians with low self-esteem and little zest for the give-and-take of politics and the glad-handing requirements of the game .
They avoid conflict and take no joy in the uses of power .
They tend to get themselves boxed up through a preoccupation with principles , rules , and procedures .
When Barber first put forth this matrix , he was correctly viewed as distinctively probing and original .
And there is little doubt that Barber ’ s perceived traits , if correctly identified and analyzed , can inform our @ @ @ @ @ @ @ how prospective presidents might do theirs .
But there is plenty of room for debate when it comes to attaching particular traits to particular presidents .
For example , Barber identifies George Washington as Passive-Negative , meaning he had low self-esteem , shunned opportunities for taking power , retreated from conflict , and was generally preoccupied on small matters at the expense of big ambitions .
This hardly squares with history ’ s consistent portrayal of the first president .
Another example was Barber ’ s categorization of Ronald Reagan as Passive-Positive , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , that he reacted to events rather than initiating them , and was easily manipulated .
This Reagan portrayal may have comported with what many of his opponents and detractors thought of him during his presidential tenure , but it doesn ’ t fit the real Reagan , who reversed decades of orthodoxy to transform the country ’ s economic debate and set out not just to counter the Soviet threat but to actually upend the Soviet Union itself .
And he did this with hardly any evidence that he absorbed in any @ @ @ @ @ @ @ thrown at him .
On the other hand , Lyndon Johnson and Richard Nixon clearly were Active-Negative , as Barber suggests .
So were Herbert Hoover and Woodrow Wilson .
And it isn ’ t difficult to accept some of Barber ’ s Active-Positive categorizations—Thomas Jefferson , Franklin Roosevelt , and Harry Truman , for example .
All this suggests that there is plenty of room for discussion and debate on just where various presidents should be placed .
It ’ s a kind of parlor game .
And no doubt partisan impulses @ @ @ @ @ @ @ well .
So let ’ s go into the parlor and talk about Trump and Biden .
It isn ’ t difficult to place Trump on the Active-Passive scale .
He is a man of large ambitions , as evidenced by his intent , as a 2016 candidate for the Republican presidential nomination , to mow down the entire GOP establishment on his way to the party nod .
As president he has embraced a similar resolve to take the country in an entirely new direction in a host of areas—immigration , trade @ @ @ @ @ @ @ clear he is an Active president in his resolve , often expressed in audacious terms , to change American society in very significant ways .
But is he a Negative or a Positive ?
The Positive presidents relished the job and the grand necessity to move events by persuading , cajoling , bargaining with and perhaps occasionally threatening other players in the political arena .
The great Active-Positive presidents all had fun in the job .
They showed a zest and enthusiasm that was infectious , not just with the American people but @ @ @ @ @ @ @ doesn ’ t describe Trump .
There ’ s no look of the happy warrior about him but rather a consistent bitterness and whininess .
He demonstrates hardly any zest for the job and certainly very little enthusiasm for dealing with , cajoling , influencing , or even outmaneuvering the political opposition .
The result is that he seldom outmaneuvers his adversaries at all .
And probably no president in American history has done more to make the big issues of the day about himself and his fate rather than about the nation @ @ @ @ @ @ @ bit of a giveaway that his struggles are driven by internal motivations , perhaps even internal demons of some kind or other .
All this helps explain why Trump has been unable to build politically on his basic fount of support—the 39 percent to 43 percent of Americans who give him a positive performance rating .
If there is one thing his political style is not , it ’ s infectious .
His negativity is a barrier to expansion in his overall public support ; his inability to expand his public support is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and his lack of success in governance is a barrier to eventual political success in November .
Thus do we see that Trump seems to be an Active-Negative .
Presidents in this Barber category don ’ t have great track records .
They include John Adams , a failed one-termer ; Woodrow Wilson , a two-termer whose second term was among the most disastrous of our history ; Herbert Hoover , tossed out after a single term because he couldn ’ t find a way to grapple with the Great Depression ; Lyndon @ @ @ @ @ @ @ dimension ; and Richard Nixon , the only president to resign the office in disgrace .
What about Biden ?
Of course , using the Barber analyletical tool to assess the presidential character of someone who has never been president has to be considered a qualified enterprise at best .
But the man has been at a high level on the national political scene for nearly half a century , and in that time we have been given a solid opportunity to observe him and assess his political attributes .
On the Positive/Negative @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a Positive .
He was excoriated early in the Democratic nomination battle for touting his ability over the years to work with fellow senators who had demonstrated their segregationist prejudices , including Mississippi ’ s James O. Eastland and Georgia ’ s Herman Talmadge .
“ We didn ’ t agree on much of anything , ” said Biden , adding however , “ We got things done.
” The outcry , much of it mean-spirited , was predictable , but Biden ’ s ability to work with senatorial colleagues was a hallmark @ @ @ @ @ @ @ his congressional tenure .
The highly regarded Congressional Quarterly book of political profiles , Politics in America , praised Biden for his ability to work with North Carolina Republican Jesse Helms when Helms was chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee and Biden was its ranking member .
Said the book : “ Biden ’ s ability to maintain lines of communication with all groups often has made him , rather than Helms , the key vote on Foreign Relations.
” This can be viewed as evidence of a Positive trait , based on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ years in the Senate , said Politics in America , “ he still exhibits the intelligence , drive and passion of his youth.
” The key word here , in terms of presidential character , is “ passion.
” Positives demonstrate a zest for the job and an openness to people , even those in the opposition who represent impediments to success that must be dealt with through persuasion , cajolery , back-slapping , and old-fashioned horse-trading .
Positives love that game ; so does Biden .
On the Active/Passive scale , Biden @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is difficult to assess , however , because you can ’ t know how a president will view the White House job with any definiteness until he or she actually becomes president .
But Biden ’ s long Washington service reveals an adroit legislative politician who dealt with issues as they emerged , without much evidence of vision or big thinking .
Thus does it appear that Biden represents a likely Passive/Positive president .
Recall , Barber sees presidents in this category as wanting to be loved and thus ingratiating—and easily manipulated .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ on Biden by conservatives—that he is being manipulated in his campaign , and would continue to be as president , by his party ’ s emergent leftist radicals .
In any event , we have—for whatever it might be worth—what appears to be Biden ’ s Passive/Positive persona up against Trump ’ s more definitive Active/Negative designation .
This isn ’ t intended as a suggestion on how anyone should vote , merely as one small window on the race as it unfolds .
Robert W. Merry , longtime Washington , D.C. , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ author of Where They Stand : The American Presidents in the Eyes of Voters and Historians , among other books .

It’s been 48 years since James David Barber, then chairman of the political science department at Duke, published his seminal treatise, The Presidential Character: Predicting Performance in the White House. The book is largely forgotten today, but it caused quite a stir when it appeared in 1972. Barber, who died in 2004, looked at qualities of temperament and personality in assessing how the country’s chief executives approached the presidency—and how that in turn contributed to their success or failure in office.
By extension, Barber’s prism of assessing presidential character also could be used to predict how particular politicians might approach the White House job should they ever attain it.
I last wrote about the Barber thesis in The National Interest magazine back in 2013 in assessing the temperament and outlook of President Barack Obama (reprinted on the same website a year later as a kind of update), and I reprise here some of the language I employed then to describe the Barber concept. I do so as a foundation for assessing the presidential character of President Trump and (prospectively) of his presumptive opponent, former Vice President Joe Biden.
Barber assessed presidents based on two indices: first, whether they were “positive” or “negative” in outlook; and, second, whether they were “active” or “passive” in ambition. The first index–the positive/negative one–assesses how presidents regard themselves in relation to the challenges of the office; so, for example, did they embrace the job with a joyful optimism or regard it as a necessary martyrdom they must sustain in order to prove their own self-worth? The second index—active vs. passive—measures their degree of wanting to accomplish big things or retreat into a reactive governing mode.
The two indices produce four categories of presidents, to wit:
Active-Positive: Presidents with big national ambitions who are self-confident, flexible, optimistic, joyful in the exercise of power, possessing a certain philosophical detachment toward what they regard as a great game.
Active-Negative: Compulsive people with low self-esteem, seekers of power as a means of self-actualization, given to rigidity and pessimism, driven, sometimes overly aggressive. But they harbor big dreams for bringing about accomplishments of large historical scope.
Passive-Positive: Compliant presidents who react to events rather than initiating them. They want to be loved and are thus ingratiating—and easily manipulated. They are “superficially optimistic” and harbor generally modest ambitions for their presidential years. But they are healthy in both ego and self-esteem.
Passive-Negative: Withdrawn politicians with low self-esteem and little zest for the give-and-take of politics and the glad-handing requirements of the game. They avoid conflict and take no joy in the uses of power. They tend to get themselves boxed up through a preoccupation with principles, rules, and procedures.
When Barber first put forth this matrix, he was correctly viewed as distinctively probing and original. And there is little doubt that Barber’s perceived traits, if correctly identified and analyzed, can inform our assessments of how presidents do their job—or how prospective presidents might do theirs. But there is plenty of room for debate when it comes to attaching particular traits to particular presidents.
For example, Barber identifies George Washington as Passive-Negative, meaning he had low self-esteem, shunned opportunities for taking power, retreated from conflict, and was generally preoccupied on small matters at the expense of big ambitions. This hardly squares with history’s consistent portrayal of the first president. Another example was Barber’s categorization of Ronald Reagan as Passive-Positive, meaning his famous optimism was merely superficial, that he reacted to events rather than initiating them, and was easily manipulated.
This Reagan portrayal may have comported with what many of his opponents and detractors thought of him during his presidential tenure, but it doesn’t fit the real Reagan, who reversed decades of orthodoxy to transform the country’s economic debate and set out not just to counter the Soviet threat but to actually upend the Soviet Union itself. And he did this with hardly any evidence that he absorbed in any unhealthy way the barrage of harsh criticism thrown at him.
On the other hand, Lyndon Johnson and Richard Nixon clearly were Active-Negative, as Barber suggests. So were Herbert Hoover and Woodrow Wilson. And it isn’t difficult to accept some of Barber’s Active-Positive categorizations—Thomas Jefferson, Franklin Roosevelt, and Harry Truman, for example. All this suggests that there is plenty of room for discussion and debate on just where various presidents should be placed. It’s a kind of parlor game. And no doubt partisan impulses will creep into the parlor game as well.
So let’s go into the parlor and talk about Trump and Biden.
It isn’t difficult to place Trump on the Active-Passive scale. He is a man of large ambitions, as evidenced by his intent, as a 2016 candidate for the Republican presidential nomination, to mow down the entire GOP establishment on his way to the party nod. As president he has embraced a similar resolve to take the country in an entirely new direction in a host of areas—immigration, trade, foreign affairs. Thus it seems clear he is an Active president in his resolve, often expressed in audacious terms, to change American society in very significant ways.
But is he a Negative or a Positive? The Positive presidents relished the job and the grand necessity to move events by persuading, cajoling, bargaining with and perhaps occasionally threatening other players in the political arena. The great Active-Positive presidents all had fun in the job. They showed a zest and enthusiasm that was infectious, not just with the American people but also with members of Congress.
This doesn’t describe Trump. There’s no look of the happy warrior about him but rather a consistent bitterness and whininess. He demonstrates hardly any zest for the job and certainly very little enthusiasm for dealing with, cajoling, influencing, or even outmaneuvering the political opposition. The result is that he seldom outmaneuvers his adversaries at all.
And probably no president in American history has done more to make the big issues of the day about himself and his fate rather than about the nation and its fate. This is a bit of a giveaway that his struggles are driven by internal motivations, perhaps even internal demons of some kind or other.
All this helps explain why Trump has been unable to build politically on his basic fount of support—the 39 percent to 43 percent of Americans who give him a positive performance rating. If there is one thing his political style is not, it’s infectious. His negativity is a barrier to expansion in his overall public support; his inability to expand his public support is a barrier to success in governance; and his lack of success in governance is a barrier to eventual political success in November.
Thus do we see that Trump seems to be an Active-Negative. Presidents in this Barber category don’t have great track records. They include John Adams, a failed one-termer; Woodrow Wilson, a two-termer whose second term was among the most disastrous of our history; Herbert Hoover, tossed out after a single term because he couldn’t find a way to grapple with the Great Depression; Lyndon Johnson, a foreign-policy failure of rare dimension; and Richard Nixon, the only president to resign the office in disgrace.
What about Biden? Of course, using the Barber analyletical tool to assess the presidential character of someone who has never been president has to be considered a qualified enterprise at best. But the man has been at a high level on the national political scene for nearly half a century, and in that time we have been given a solid opportunity to observe him and assess his political attributes.
On the Positive/Negative scale, Biden would seem to be a Positive. He was excoriated early in the Democratic nomination battle for touting his ability over the years to work with fellow senators who had demonstrated their segregationist prejudices, including Mississippi’s James O. Eastland and Georgia’s Herman Talmadge. “We didn’t agree on much of anything,” said Biden, adding however, “We got things done.”
The outcry, much of it mean-spirited, was predictable, but Biden’s ability to work with senatorial colleagues was a hallmark of his image over the decades of his congressional tenure. The highly regarded Congressional Quarterly book of political profiles, Politics in America, praised Biden for his ability to work with North Carolina Republican Jesse Helms when Helms was chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee and Biden was its ranking member. Said the book: “Biden’s ability to maintain lines of communication with all groups often has made him, rather than Helms, the key vote on Foreign Relations.”
This can be viewed as evidence of a Positive trait, based on the Barber scale. Even after 30 years in the Senate, said Politics in America, “he still exhibits the intelligence, drive and passion of his youth.” The key word here, in terms of presidential character, is “passion.” Positives demonstrate a zest for the job and an openness to people, even those in the opposition who represent impediments to success that must be dealt with through persuasion, cajolery, back-slapping, and old-fashioned horse-trading. Positives love that game; so does Biden.
On the Active/Passive scale, Biden seems to tilt toward passivity. This is difficult to assess, however, because you can’t know how a president will view the White House job with any definiteness until he or she actually becomes president. But Biden’s long Washington service reveals an adroit legislative politician who dealt with issues as they emerged, without much evidence of vision or big thinking.
Thus does it appear that Biden represents a likely Passive/Positive president. Recall, Barber sees presidents in this category as wanting to be loved and thus ingratiating—and easily manipulated. That indeed is one of the knocks on Biden by conservatives—that he is being manipulated in his campaign, and would continue to be as president, by his party’s emergent leftist radicals.
In any event, we have—for whatever it might be worth—what appears to be Biden’s Passive/Positive persona up against Trump’s more definitive Active/Negative designation. This isn’t intended as a suggestion on how anyone should vote, merely as one small window on the race as it unfolds.
Robert W. Merry, longtime Washington, D.C., journalist and publishing executive, is the author of Where They Stand: The American Presidents in the Eyes of Voters and Historians, among other books.


theamericanconservative--2020-07-22--Want to Fight Racism? Let’s Cancel Planned Parenthood

They 're scrubbing Margaret Sanger 's name off of one of their clinics .
Yet her bigoted vision is interwoven into their entire mission .
It ’ s 2020 , baby .
Names are getting scraped from buildings , statues are toppling , a bunch of stuff is catching fire , and you could get canceled tomorrow .
A new day has dawned .
We can giddily destroy even the dead on the guillotine of moral indignation .
And with each head that rolls , an understanding grows that all people , living or otherwise , can be condemned and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the fresh , improved ethos of the Great Progressive Edict .
Nothing and nobody is safe in our quest to sanitize our scatological society .
Not even , it appears , Margaret Sanger .
As of Tuesday , the renowned feminist and progressive founder of Planned Parenthood is getting the boot from the organization ’ s Manhattan clinic , where her name has long been associated with the building .
The official reason is that they can ’ t seem to gloss over her dirty history of racist eugenicism anymore , so now @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
It ’ s an interesting plot twist , because Sanger is the founder of the place .
It ’ s also interesting because Planned Parenthood is still in operation and nothing has really changed from the way she ran things back in the early years .
It ’ s tempting to concede , at least , some logical consistency to the folks over on the left .
After all , in the same way they ’ ve demanded the erasure of George Washington—despite his founding of the country—they ’ re finally acknowledging @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a strong-headed , clear-eyed woman looking to give her fellow females a shot at escaping oppression .
As pro-lifers have said for decades , Sanger was an unabashed eugenicist with a blatant record of racism .
Like Alexandra DeSanctis wrote in National Review , “ She promoted birth control as a means of limiting low-income and minority groups and proposed a regime of mandatory sterilization for those she deemed ‘ feeble-minded.
’ ” Who was feeble-minded ?
Well , to her , probably a lot of people who had perfectly fine brains .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ that assessment .
She famously excoriated them as “ human weeds ” who were “ to be exterminated.
” Until recently , Planned Parenthood has had pretty good success in brushing that little ditty under the rug .
Yet in response to those who have refused to ignore it , Sanger apologists have chosen to shape those nasty intricacies into a narrative that paints her as a complicated woman whose whimsical interest in eugenics didn ’ t actually have anything to do with her commitment to providing birth control to the black women @ @ @ @ @ @ @ between her two worlds of interest that simply couldn ’ t be bridged .
Of course , not even Sanger believed that .
Justice Clarence Thomas made this evident in a piece at First Things , pointing out that Sanger “ believed that birth control was an important part of the solution to these societal ills .
She explained , ‘ Birth Control … is really the greatest and most truly eugenic method ’ of ‘ human generation , ’ ‘ and its adoption as part of the program of Eugenics would immediately @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that science.
’ Sanger even argued that ‘ eugenists and others who are laboring for racial betterment ’ could not ‘ succeed ’ unless they ‘ first clear [ ed ] the way for Birth Control.
’ ” But Planned Parenthood doesn ’ t want to be a racist organization anymore , so now they ’ re taking the tremendously redemptive step of , well , changing a name ( which wasn ’ t even on the building ) .
“ The removal of Margaret Sanger ’ s name from our building is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ reckon with our legacy and acknowledge Planned Parenthood ’ s contributions to historical reproductive harm within communities of color , ” they told black people .
Except , obviously , they ’ re not really going to do that .
Instead , as a means of rectifying past wrongs , they ’ re going to keep contributing to reproductive harm within communities of color .
Margaret Sanger may have been fired , but make no mistake : she ’ s still working there .
Black people aren ’ t getting any sort of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ movement has been saying it for years : Sanger ’ s efforts in what she called the “ Negro Project ” have resulted in fewer people of color .
The project , for those unfamiliar , was based on a Malthusian hope of reeducating the women—specifically in African-American communities—on the kind of lives available to them without children .
Why ?
Certainly not to help them discover better lives .
Why would Sanger care about “ human weeds ?
” She just wanted to have fewer of them .
She got what she @ @ @ @ @ @ @ one third of all American abortions happen to black babies , despite the fact that black women comprise less than 15 percent of our population .
Indeed , the rate of growth in black communities is slower than among most other major U.S. race and ethnic groups .
Now that Planned Parenthood has distanced itself from the ideology of its founder , they ’ re in the clear .
Never mind that the premise of their entire existence is the ideology of a woman who saw people as something to be manipulated and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ left is trying very hard to do everywhere : eradicate history , start fresh—a society cut off from its source and advancing toward the sun .
But canceling George Washington for owning slaves centuries ago does nothing to end racism today .
To do that , we have to halt the wrongs we ’ re committing against blacks now .
And canceling Margaret Sanger for her nasty eugenics obsession won ’ t stop the tragic gutting of black communities .
Though ending Planned Parenthood certainly would .
Dr. Alveda King , niece of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that the damage to America ’ s black community can only be rectified with the end of what Sanger started : Step away from the carefully crafted messages of Planned Parenthood ’ s PR professionals , and look at Sanger for who she clearly insisted she was .
Once you do , it ’ s impossible to ignore the fact that the entire fabric of her organization is interwoven with her expansive , explicitly racist view of humanity .
Yes , her name has been scrubbed in New York .
But her ghost @ @ @ @ @ @ @ clinic , nodding approvingly as black lives—which matter at any age—are cut short .
Statements and blind eyes aren ’ t enough anymore .
If Planned Parenthood earnestly wishes to do its part to mend what they ’ ve broken , they ’ ll close up shop altogether .
Emma Ayers is an editor and reporter in the Washington D.C. metro area .
She has no Twitter for you to follow .

It’s 2020, baby. Names are getting scraped from buildings, statues are toppling, a bunch of stuff is catching fire, and you could get canceled tomorrow. A new day has dawned. We can giddily destroy even the dead on the guillotine of moral indignation. And with each head that rolls, an understanding grows that all people, living or otherwise, can be condemned and done away with should they not meet the fresh, improved ethos of the Great Progressive Edict. Nothing and nobody is safe in our quest to sanitize our scatological society. Not even, it appears, Margaret Sanger.
As of Tuesday, the renowned feminist and progressive founder of Planned Parenthood is getting the boot from the organization’s Manhattan clinic, where her name has long been associated with the building. The official reason is that they can’t seem to gloss over her dirty history of racist eugenicism anymore, so now they’re going to disown her.
It’s an interesting plot twist, because Sanger is the founder of the place. It’s also interesting because Planned Parenthood is still in operation and nothing has really changed from the way she ran things back in the early years.
It’s tempting to concede, at least, some logical consistency to the folks over on the left. After all, in the same way they’ve demanded the erasure of George Washington—despite his founding of the country—they’re finally acknowledging aloud that Sanger wasn’t merely a strong-headed, clear-eyed woman looking to give her fellow females a shot at escaping oppression. As pro-lifers have said for decades, Sanger was an unabashed eugenicist with a blatant record of racism. Like Alexandra DeSanctis wrote in National Review, “She promoted birth control as a means of limiting low-income and minority groups and proposed a regime of mandatory sterilization for those she deemed ‘feeble-minded.’”
Who was feeble-minded? Well, to her, probably a lot of people who had perfectly fine brains. And certainly black people were included in that assessment. She famously excoriated them as “human weeds” who were “to be exterminated.” Until recently, Planned Parenthood has had pretty good success in brushing that little ditty under the rug.
Yet in response to those who have refused to ignore it, Sanger apologists have chosen to shape those nasty intricacies into a narrative that paints her as a complicated woman whose whimsical interest in eugenics didn’t actually have anything to do with her commitment to providing birth control to the black women of America. There was a gulf between her two worlds of interest that simply couldn’t be bridged.
Of course, not even Sanger believed that. Justice Clarence Thomas made this evident in a piece at First Things, pointing out that Sanger “believed that birth control was an important part of the solution to these societal ills. She explained, ‘Birth Control … is really the greatest and most truly eugenic method’ of ‘human generation,’ ‘and its adoption as part of the program of Eugenics would immediately give a concrete and realistic power to that science.’ Sanger even argued that ‘eugenists and others who are laboring for racial betterment’ could not ‘succeed’ unless they ‘first clear[ed] the way for Birth Control.’”
But Planned Parenthood doesn’t want to be a racist organization anymore, so now they’re taking the tremendously redemptive step of, well, changing a name (which wasn’t even on the building). “The removal of Margaret Sanger’s name from our building is both a necessary and overdue step to reckon with our legacy and acknowledge Planned Parenthood’s contributions to historical reproductive harm within communities of color,” they told black people.
Except, obviously, they’re not really going to do that. Instead, as a means of rectifying past wrongs, they’re going to keep contributing to reproductive harm within communities of color. Margaret Sanger may have been fired, but make no mistake: she’s still working there. Black people aren’t getting any sort of recompense in this.
The black pro-life movement has been saying it for years: Sanger’s efforts in what she called the “Negro Project” have resulted in fewer people of color. The project, for those unfamiliar, was based on a Malthusian hope of reeducating the women—specifically in African-American communities—on the kind of lives available to them without children. Why? Certainly not to help them discover better lives. Why would Sanger care about “human weeds?”
She just wanted to have fewer of them. She got what she wanted, too. Now, over one third of all American abortions happen to black babies, despite the fact that black women comprise less than 15 percent of our population. Indeed, the rate of growth in black communities is slower than among most other major U.S. race and ethnic groups.
Now that Planned Parenthood has distanced itself from the ideology of its founder, they’re in the clear. Never mind that the premise of their entire existence is the ideology of a woman who saw people as something to be manipulated and rooted out. This is what the left is trying very hard to do everywhere: eradicate history, start fresh—a society cut off from its source and advancing toward the sun.
But canceling George Washington for owning slaves centuries ago does nothing to end racism today. To do that, we have to halt the wrongs we’re committing against blacks now. And canceling Margaret Sanger for her nasty eugenics obsession won’t stop the tragic gutting of black communities. Though ending Planned Parenthood certainly would.
Dr. Alveda King, niece of Martin Luther King Jr., astutely noted that the damage to America’s black community can only be rectified with the end of what Sanger started:
My grandfather, Dr. Martin Luther King, Sr., once said, “No one is going to kill a child of mine.” Tragically, two of his grandchildren had already been aborted when he saved the life of his next great-grandson with this statement. His son, [Martin Luther] King once said, “The Negro cannot win as long as he is willing to sacrifice the lives of his children for comfort and safety.” How can the “Dream” survive if we murder the children? Every aborted baby is like a slave in the womb of his or her mother. The mother decides his or her fate.
Step away from the carefully crafted messages of Planned Parenthood’s PR professionals, and look at Sanger for who she clearly insisted she was. Once you do, it’s impossible to ignore the fact that the entire fabric of her organization is interwoven with her expansive, explicitly racist view of humanity. Yes, her name has been scrubbed in New York. But her ghost yet haunts the halls of that Manhattan clinic, nodding approvingly as black lives—which matter at any age—are cut short. Statements and blind eyes aren’t enough anymore. If Planned Parenthood earnestly wishes to do its part to mend what they’ve broken, they’ll close up shop altogether.
Emma Ayers is an editor and reporter in the Washington D.C. metro area. She has no Twitter for you to follow.


theamericanconservative--2020-07-23--2020: The Year We Confronted Decline

2020: The Year We Confronted Decline

Federal officers , left , and a protester carrying the American flag face off in front of the Mark O. Hatfield U.S .
Courthouse on July 21 , 2020 in Portland , Ore. ( Photo by Nathan Howard/Getty Images ) “ Certainly I must not forget that I am writing for posterity , ” says the narrator in Thomas Mann ’ s Doctor Faustus .
And certainly right now a lot of us feel the same way .
That isn ’ t to say the world is going to remember what we write here , much less care .
But @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , after all , living through a year that future students will study in high school history classes .
It ’ s too easy to say that 2020 is the new 1968—history doesn ’ t copycat itself quite so neatly .
But certainly those four numerals will one day come to connote tension , strife , even transformation .
A below-average miniseries will be made , probably called Corona , with episode titles like “ I Can ’ t Breathe ” and “ Captain Crozier.
” Decomposing bourgeoisie radicals will stroll around robot-dusted @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ 20.
” As for those of us still living through this pyromaniacal year , we can only wish we had the blessing of hindsight , the ability to know how it will all end—and how long it will take .
The most terrifying thing about 2020 is that it may outlast 2020 .
The challenges we face—a coronavirus pandemic , social unrest—are so extensive and stubborn that they could easily wear on past December .
On top of that are other problems that have been brewing for decades , which have now @ @ @ @ @ @ @ dangerously exacerbated .
This year has felt like a perfect storm , and it ’ s left an almost foreign word on the national tongue : decline .
Polls find that Americans , ever a sunny bunch , still hold out some hope for the future , but they ’ re anxious , unsure .
They worry life may never return to the way it used to be .
It isn ’ t that America is declining in the rankings .
We ’ re still number one in many respects : biggest economy @ @ @ @ @ @ @ population .
It ’ s that for once the sheer heft of the challenges ahead seems to outweigh our ability to shoulder them .
America ’ s ethos has always been that of a striving innovator .
We don ’ t simply accept circumstances as they come , as , say , some Europeans tend to do ; we seek to shape them and change them .
Our civic religion tells us there ’ s no problem we can ’ t solve , be it the commies or stagflation or terrorism .
Yet @ @ @ @ @ @ @ some of them deeply rooted in our own soil , that getting over all of them can seem impossible .
That cheerful manifest destiny , that complacent “ end of history ” attitude that many of us grew up with during the 1990s , now seems like a relic of a distant time .
Let ’ s take stock .
The United States is now an empire , no more pretending or posturing , ludicrously overextended across the globe .
American troops are stationed in 177 countries , including places like Germany where @ @ @ @ @ @ @ can ’ t ever seem to leave .
Their presence in the Middle East has not saved that region from chaos .
Their presence in East Asia has not prevented a rising China .
Yet on they linger , running up a ruinous national debt that recently reached an eye-watering $ 26.5 trillion , with more on the way as Congress mulls another round of coronavirus relief .
The interest on that debt is chewing into the national budget .
And China is targeting our ability to borrow as it seeks to displace @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Those two issues—empire and fiscal incontinence—would themselves be enough to draw nervous comparisons to late-stage Rome .
Yet on the list goes .
We are riven by inequality , both cultural and economic .
The ghost of our racist past still clanks around in our attic , as George Floyd is killed by police and we approach the three-year anniversary of the violence in Charlottesville .
Yet the enforced solution , critical race theory , is no solution at all , but a doctrine of surrender that cedes our essential equality .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ undergoing the West ’ s most significant creedal shift since Constantine , yet we sleepwalk into it , oblivious to the void it leaves behind .
Another world power is rising across the ocean , proudly anti-liberal and blatantly authoritarian , an ideological competitor to what we ’ ve long called “ the American dream.
” And while China has ( allegedly ) kicked the coronavirus , we can ’ t seem to , drawing pity from a world we once inspired .
That ’ s one portrait of America anyway .
And @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it ’ s also happily incomplete .
As Steven Pinker or the website HumanProgress.org will readily tell you , no account of our present times should omit all the good .
To take just one example , in spite of the pandemic , the world is currently producing more grain , an essential food staple , than ever before , with consumption expected to follow suit .
Against a history rife with hunger and privation , that ’ s something to celebrate .
There are always upsides , which is why people generally @ @ @ @ @ @ @ decline .
The modern-day Millerites have very often been proven wrong .
So it ’ s important that we don ’ t exaggerate how bleak our situation is .
History isn ’ t deterministic ; there isn ’ t some ticking time bomb beneath our country that we ’ re powerless to defuse .
Good decision making has averted decline before and may yet do so again .
But it ’ s going to take serious and committed leadership , men and women willing to make tough decisions sans the usual partisanship and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ discussing the French Revolution , wrote , “ It is all a question of leadership ; and the one serious doubt about democracy is whether it can show sufficient critical discrimination in the choice of its leaders.
” Yet America today is led by a most unworthy man , a president who conflates sharp tweets with national stewardship .
His Democratic opponent seems little better , at best willing to bend to left-wing hate mobs and at worst mentally unfit to lead .
If we ’ re going to arrest our decline , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for leadership , one that doesn ’ t just prize social media preening and winning the news cycle .
We also need to admit we have a problem in the first place , which , given the swagger of that civic religion , can be difficult to do .
The last time we talked seriously about decline was during the late 1970s , when the economy was a mess , the Soviet Union seemed coated in Teflon , lines snaked around gas stations , and the hostages were stuck in Iran .
Back @ @ @ @ @ @ @ accurately but suicidally , that we were in “ a crisis that strikes at the very heart and soul and spirit of our national will .
We can see this crisis in the growing doubt about the meaning of our own lives and in the loss of a unity of purpose for our nation.
” Fortunately from there came a turnaround that was almost out of a conservative storybook .
The U.S. hockey team beat the Soviet Union .
A beaming Ronald Reagan was elected president .
The hostages came home .
Tax @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
The Berlin Wall fell .
The country swelled with pride .
Yet for all he got wrong , Carter was right that the “ malaise ” he confronted was in part a crisis of the soul , a listlessness and bewilderment after the revolts of the ’ 60s and the traumas of Vietnam and Watergate .
And therein a final lesson for us today .
Our national condition , as Babbitt would remind us , is an outgrowth of our hearts .
Before we can restore our greatness , before we throw @ @ @ @ @ @ @ rediscover those qualities that can counter malaise—charity , restraint , liberality , good humor .
To stop decline , we first have to fix our dispositions .

“Certainly I must not forget that I am writing for posterity,” says the narrator in Thomas Mann’s Doctor Faustus. And certainly right now a lot of us feel the same way.
That isn’t to say the world is going to remember what we write here, much less care. But our children just might. We are, after all, living through a year that future students will study in high school history classes. It’s too easy to say that 2020 is the new 1968—history doesn’t copycat itself quite so neatly. But certainly those four numerals will one day come to connote tension, strife, even transformation. A below-average miniseries will be made, probably called Corona, with episode titles like “I Can’t Breathe” and “Captain Crozier.” Decomposing bourgeoisie radicals will stroll around robot-dusted sociology departments invoking the “spirit of ’20.”
As for those of us still living through this pyromaniacal year, we can only wish we had the blessing of hindsight, the ability to know how it will all end—and how long it will take. The most terrifying thing about 2020 is that it may outlast 2020. The challenges we face—a coronavirus pandemic, social unrest—are so extensive and stubborn that they could easily wear on past December. On top of that are other problems that have been brewing for decades, which have now either come to a head or been dangerously exacerbated. This year has felt like a perfect storm, and it’s left an almost foreign word on the national tongue: decline. Polls find that Americans, ever a sunny bunch, still hold out some hope for the future, but they’re anxious, unsure. They worry life may never return to the way it used to be.
It isn’t that America is declining in the rankings. We’re still number one in many respects: biggest economy, most powerful military, largest immigrant population. It’s that for once the sheer heft of the challenges ahead seems to outweigh our ability to shoulder them. America’s ethos has always been that of a striving innovator. We don’t simply accept circumstances as they come, as, say, some Europeans tend to do; we seek to shape them and change them. Our civic religion tells us there’s no problem we can’t solve, be it the commies or stagflation or terrorism. Yet today we face so many hurdles, some of them deeply rooted in our own soil, that getting over all of them can seem impossible. That cheerful manifest destiny, that complacent “end of history” attitude that many of us grew up with during the 1990s, now seems like a relic of a distant time.
Let’s take stock. The United States is now an empire, no more pretending or posturing, ludicrously overextended across the globe. American troops are stationed in 177 countries, including places like Germany where they’re no longer needed yet can’t ever seem to leave. Their presence in the Middle East has not saved that region from chaos. Their presence in East Asia has not prevented a rising China. Yet on they linger, running up a ruinous national debt that recently reached an eye-watering $26.5 trillion, with more on the way as Congress mulls another round of coronavirus relief. The interest on that debt is chewing into the national budget. And China is targeting our ability to borrow as it seeks to displace the dollar as the global reserve currency.
Those two issues—empire and fiscal incontinence—would themselves be enough to draw nervous comparisons to late-stage Rome. Yet on the list goes. We are riven by inequality, both cultural and economic. The ghost of our racist past still clanks around in our attic, as George Floyd is killed by police and we approach the three-year anniversary of the violence in Charlottesville. Yet the enforced solution, critical race theory, is no solution at all, but a doctrine of surrender that cedes our essential equality. We are transitioning away from Christianity, undergoing the West’s most significant creedal shift since Constantine, yet we sleepwalk into it, oblivious to the void it leaves behind. Another world power is rising across the ocean, proudly anti-liberal and blatantly authoritarian, an ideological competitor to what we’ve long called “the American dream.” And while China has (allegedly) kicked the coronavirus, we can’t seem to, drawing pity from a world we once inspired.
That’s one portrait of America anyway. And while it’s hardly wrong, it’s also happily incomplete. As Steven Pinker or the website HumanProgress.org will readily tell you, no account of our present times should omit all the good. To take just one example, in spite of the pandemic, the world is currently producing more grain, an essential food staple, than ever before, with consumption expected to follow suit. Against a history rife with hunger and privation, that’s something to celebrate. There are always upsides, which is why people generally don’t trust those who preach decline. The modern-day Millerites have very often been proven wrong.
So it’s important that we don’t exaggerate how bleak our situation is. History isn’t deterministic; there isn’t some ticking time bomb beneath our country that we’re powerless to defuse. Good decision making has averted decline before and may yet do so again. But it’s going to take serious and committed leadership, men and women willing to make tough decisions sans the usual partisanship and desire to please. Irving Babbitt, discussing the French Revolution, wrote, “It is all a question of leadership; and the one serious doubt about democracy is whether it can show sufficient critical discrimination in the choice of its leaders.” Yet America today is led by a most unworthy man, a president who conflates sharp tweets with national stewardship. His Democratic opponent seems little better, at best willing to bend to left-wing hate mobs and at worst mentally unfit to lead.
If we’re going to arrest our decline, we need a new system of incentives for leadership, one that doesn’t just prize social media preening and winning the news cycle. We also need to admit we have a problem in the first place, which, given the swagger of that civic religion, can be difficult to do. The last time we talked seriously about decline was during the late 1970s, when the economy was a mess, the Soviet Union seemed coated in Teflon, lines snaked around gas stations, and the hostages were stuck in Iran. Back then, President Jimmy Carter warned, accurately but suicidally, that we were in “a crisis that strikes at the very heart and soul and spirit of our national will. We can see this crisis in the growing doubt about the meaning of our own lives and in the loss of a unity of purpose for our nation.”
Fortunately from there came a turnaround that was almost out of a conservative storybook. The U.S. hockey team beat the Soviet Union. A beaming Ronald Reagan was elected president. The hostages came home. Tax cuts and Paul Volcker juiced the economy. The Berlin Wall fell. The country swelled with pride.
Yet for all he got wrong, Carter was right that the “malaise” he confronted was in part a crisis of the soul, a listlessness and bewilderment after the revolts of the ’60s and the traumas of Vietnam and Watergate. And therein a final lesson for us today. Our national condition, as Babbitt would remind us, is an outgrowth of our hearts. Before we can restore our greatness, before we throw the bums out, we need to rediscover those qualities that can counter malaise—charity, restraint, liberality, good humor. To stop decline, we first have to fix our dispositions.


theamericanconservative--2020-07-23--A Changing of the Guard at the Trump Campaign

TOPSHOT - US President Donald Trump arrives for a campaign rally at the BOK Center on June 20 , 2020 in Tulsa , Oklahoma .
- Hundreds of supporters lined up early for Donald Trump 's first political rally in months , saying the risk of contracting COVID-19 in a big , packed arena would not keep them from hearing the president 's campaign message .
( Photo by Nicholas Kamm / AFP ) / ALTERNATE CROP ( Photo by NICHOLAS KAMM/AFP via Getty Images ) A brash , New York-area figure may soon make a Republican run for president @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a liberal on social issues , but it seems plausible that a smack-talking , self-assured pol could match the moment : the party needs a fighter .
Recovering from an economic near-depression , the character ’ s righteous indignation will serve as a substitute for fire and brimstone politics in the classic sense—all while keeping in lockstep with a frustrated business wing wary of national decline .
Perhaps reading the room , he has briskly abandoned earlier musings about moderation on immigration .
And he ’ s politically inexperienced , but so is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ t be laughed off : he draws crowds and he pitilessly dispatches with most foes—in moments that soon after go viral .
Charisma would seem more important than conservatism .
This could work .
It ’ s an uncertain time nine years ago .
“ I would say he ’ s the only Republican who could win , ” his biggest fan , conservative columnist Ann Coulter , tells Fox News .
The man is a tormenter of Mitt Romney , the putative party standard-bearer .
The similarities between Chris Christie , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and Donald Trump are perhaps obvious and yet often unremarked upon .
The duo are old friends , but in a cold twist of fate , it would end up being Trump who would pick up the mantle of crusading political outsider—not the career politician Christie .
After Romney failed to win the presidency in 2012 and Christie ’ s second term as governor became embroiled in scandal , Christie ’ s own bid in 2016 was an anticlimactic disaster .
When Christie became the first major former presidential candidate to join ranks @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in the GOP cognoscenti were sincerely shocked ( I remember my editor at the time viewed him as Judas Iscariot ) .
But that shouldn ’ t have been .
It was vintage Christie , nearly netting him the vice presidency before losing out to Mike Pence .
In retrospect , many were left to conclude that Christie ’ s best shot at the top had been four years prior .
After 2012 , Christie ’ s political viability ( including a rapturious re-election in a blue state ) was all too clear @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a target .
The perils of governing a famously corrupt state such as New Jersey eventually caught up to him .
And the nightly , breathless coverage of “ Bridgegate ” ( ground zero : MSNBC ) was a precursor to “ Russiagate ” years later .
Trump , on the other hand , also passed on 2012 , but harvested gold in 2016 .
Few know this history better than Bill Stepien , 42 , now Trump ’ s campaign manager .
Stepien was the architect of Christie ’ s 2009 and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in 2014 , at the height of Bridgegate , Christie dispensed with his then-deputy chief of staff , saying he ’ d lost confidence in his former disciple .
“ I was disturbed by the tone , and behavior , and attitude—callous indifference—that was displayed… by my former campaign manager Bill Stepien , ” Christie said at the time .
If you told Mr. Stepien—who amidst the brouhaha had to retain counsel and was thwarted from his ambition to serve as state party chair—that just years later , he would serve as the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ political director and then after his campaign manager , he would probably have remarked that you were crazier than his old boss .
But that ’ s just what went down .
Trump last week technically demoted Brad Parscale—his longest-serving campaign manager .
Parscale is now the political equivalent of a white dwarf ( to look at him , something he ’ s never been called before ) in Trumpworld , burnt out after an explosive crash and the president ’ s tumble in the polls .
“ He does not like Brad @ @ @ @ @ @ @ told CNN .
“ It ’ s very clear that when Brad offers a position , Trump decides to be against it.
” In contrast to Parscale , the hype machine for his replacement Stepien is just getting revved up .
“ Bill is the most talented political operative in America , ” Congressional candidate Matt Mowers , a former Christie aide in better official standing with the former governor , also told CNN .
“ He understands political operations , he understands field [ operations ] , he understands turnout and metrics @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” As it turns out , Christie ’ s distancing from his ex-aide ended up being the best thing that ever happened to Stepien .
Christie , of course , is the subject of a blood feud led by Trump son-in-law Jared Kushner , senior counselor to the president and the campaign ’ s de facto chief strategist .
Christie , as U.S. Attorney for the District of New Jersey , helped put Charles Kushner—Jared Kushner ’ s father—in prison , in a sordid case of financial fraud and familial breakdown .
Stepien @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s orbit in 2016 when the New York mogul clinched the Republican nomination .
And Kushner eventually excised Christie from Trump ’ s inner circle , helping deny him the vice presidential slot and then having him fired as the head of Trump ’ s transition days after his shock victory .
Other Kushner rivals , such as Steve Bannon , were later shown the door , as well .
When reports of Parscale ’ s punishment first surfaced , frenzied speculation broke out that this represented , at last , a defenestration @ @ @ @ @ @ @ frustrated true believers in the president ’ s base .
But it was no such thing .
Stepien , like most who wield power in the president ’ s court , is a confirmed Kushner loyalist .
But the Parscale-to-Stepien shift does represent a meaningful transition .
In Mr. Stepien , President Trump has selected a more traditional guru—a Republican who knows the blocking and tackling of major campaigns .
With the Christie precedent , he has a record of winning uphill campaigns and running up the score even when certain of victory @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s longtime digital pointman , is a further debunking of the theory that technical trickery alone—so-called “ meme magic ” ( or see the frenzied fanfiction around Cambridge Analytica ) —installed Trump in the White House .
A Republican campaign official told me the maneuver was probably “ too late , but a good move.
” In Stepien , Trump is staking out a belief in the kind of figure he ’ s always distrusted—a Republican company man—as his campaign tries to recover against a Democratic company man , Joe Biden .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ whether he ’ s waited too long to pivot .
For Mr. Stepien , the question is if his ticket back to power is a poison chalice .
Perhaps what this campaign team now has the going for them most is that few believe in them .
We ’ ve seen that show before .

A brash, New York-area figure may soon make a Republican run for president.
He has a past record as a liberal on social issues, but it seems plausible that a smack-talking, self-assured pol could match the moment: the party needs a fighter. Recovering from an economic near-depression, the character’s righteous indignation will serve as a substitute for fire and brimstone politics in the classic sense—all while keeping in lockstep with a frustrated business wing wary of national decline.
Perhaps reading the room, he has briskly abandoned earlier musings about moderation on immigration. And he’s politically inexperienced, but so is the incumbent president. This candidate can’t be laughed off: he draws crowds and he pitilessly dispatches with most foes—in moments that soon after go viral. Charisma would seem more important than conservatism. This could work. It’s an uncertain time nine years ago. “I would say he’s the only Republican who could win,” his biggest fan, conservative columnist Ann Coulter, tells Fox News. The man is a tormenter of Mitt Romney, the putative party standard-bearer.
The similarities between Chris Christie, once the governor of New Jersey, and Donald Trump are perhaps obvious and yet often unremarked upon. The duo is made up of two old friends, but in a cold twist of fate, it would end up being Trump who would pick up the mantle of crusading political outsider—not the career politician Christie. After Romney failed to win the presidency in 2012 and Christie’s second term as governor became embroiled in scandal, Christie’s own bid in 2016 was an anticlimactic disaster. When Christie became the first major former presidential candidate to join ranks with Trump in February 2016, many in the GOP cognoscenti were sincerely shocked (I remember my editor at the time viewed him as Judas Iscariot). But that shouldn’t have been. It was vintage Christie, nearly netting him the vice presidency before losing out to Mike Pence.
In retrospect, many were left to conclude that Christie’s best shot at the top had been four years prior. After 2012, Christie’s political viability (including a rapturous re-election in a blue state) was all too clear to his enemies, and he became a target. The perils of governing a famously corrupt state such as New Jersey eventually caught up to him. And the nightly, breathless coverage of “Bridgegate” (ground zero: MSNBC) was a precursor to “Russiagate” years later. Trump, on the other hand, also passed on 2012, but harvested gold in 2016.
Few know this history better than Bill Stepien, 42, now Trump’s campaign manager. Stepien was the architect of Christie’s 2009 and 2013 juggernaut runs for governor. But in 2014, at the height of Bridgegate, Christie dispensed with his then-deputy chief of staff, saying he’d lost confidence in his former disciple. “I was disturbed by the tone, and behavior, and attitude—callous indifference—that was displayed… by my former campaign manager Bill Stepien,” Christie said at the time. If you told Mr. Stepien—who amidst the brouhaha had to retain counsel and was thwarted from his ambition to serve as state party chair—that just years later, he would serve as the president of the United States’ political director and then after his campaign manager, he would probably have remarked that you were crazier than his old boss. But that’s just what went down.
Trump last week technically demoted Brad Parscale—his longest-serving campaign manager. Parscale is now the political equivalent of a white dwarf (to look at him, something he’s never been called before) in Trumpworld, burnt out after an explosive crash and the president’s tumble in the polls. “He does not like Brad,” an advisor to the president told CNN. “It’s very clear that when Brad offers a position, Trump decides to be against it.” In contrast to Parscale, the hype machine for his replacement Stepien is just getting revved up. “Bill is the most talented political operative in America,” Congressional candidate Matt Mowers, a former Christie aide in better official standing with the former governor, also told CNN. “He understands political operations, he understands field [operations], he understands turnout and metrics in a way that’s unparalleled.”
As it turns out, Christie’s distancing from his ex-aide ended up being the best thing that ever happened to Stepien. Christie, of course, is the subject of a blood feud led by Trump son-in-law Jared Kushner, senior counselor to the president and the campaign’s de facto chief strategist. Christie, as U.S. Attorney for the District of New Jersey, helped put Charles Kushner—Jared Kushner’s father—in prison, in a sordid case of financial fraud and familial breakdown. Stepien was recruited by Kushner into Trump’s orbit in 2016 when the New York mogul clinched the Republican nomination. And Kushner eventually excised Christie from Trump’s inner circle, helping deny him the vice presidential slot and then having him fired as the head of Trump’s transition days after his shock victory. Other Kushner rivals, such as Steve Bannon, were later shown the door, as well.
When reports of Parscale’s punishment first surfaced, frenzied speculation broke out that this represented, at last, a defenestration of Kushner, whose corporate politics have frustrated true believers in the president’s base. But it was no such thing. Stepien, like most who wield power in the president’s court, is a confirmed Kushner loyalist. But the Parscale-to-Stepien shift does represent a meaningful transition. In Mr. Stepien, President Trump has selected a more traditional guru—a Republican who knows the blocking and tackling of major campaigns. With the Christie precedent, he has a record of winning uphill campaigns and running up the score even when certain of victory.
The demotion of Parscale, Trump’s longtime digital pointman, is a further debunking of the theory that technical trickery alone—so-called “meme magic” (or see the frenzied fanfiction around Cambridge Analytica)—installed Trump in the White House. A Republican campaign official told me the maneuver was probably “too late, but a good move.” In Stepien, Trump is staking out a belief in the kind of figure he’s always distrusted—a Republican company man—as his campaign tries to recover against a Democratic company man, Joe Biden. For the president, the question is whether he’s waited too long to pivot. For Mr. Stepien, the question is if his ticket back to power is a poison chalice. Perhaps what this campaign team now has going for them most is that few believe in them.
We’ve seen that show before.