motherjones--2020-02-24--Is This the Year Democrats Finally Take Down Steve King?

On a Sunday evening in mid-November , J.D .
Scholten stood in the Swaledale , Iowa , City Hall and spoke , as he often does , about sandwiches .
Scholten , a Democratic candidate for Congress in the state ’ s once reliably red 4th Congressional District , was in the midst of a series of town halls he called the “ Don ’ t Forget About Us ” tour , often making several stops a day in communities with fewer than 1,000 residents .
About three dozen people were packed into the building ’ s only room , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ wall and a sagging ceiling that the 6-foot-6 Scholten could almost scrape with his perfectly bald head .
Swaledale ( population 158 ) was the smallest town he went through that day , and like most places he ’ d visited , it no longer had a grocery store .
“ If you go from Sioux City and take the next three towns east on Highway 20 , ” he said , sketching a picture of the district for the crowd , “ three of those have lost their grocery store in the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ them have gained Dollar Generals.
” Heads began to nod .
“ If you want a BLT in Correctionville , Iowa , ” he continued , “ you either have to grow your own tomato or drive into Sioux City to get one.
” At three stops over five hours , Scholten returned to the same themes—the rise of Dollar General , the exodus of young people , the pork monopolies , the GoFundMes for cancer patients , the grain elevators that couldn ’ t stay open without immigrant workers .
But there @ @ @ @ @ @ @ up : Steve King , the nine-term white nationalist Republican incumbent he ’ s trying to unseat .
“ We never do , ” Scholten told me , expressing surprise at my surprise .
“ Not never—we rarely talk about Trump , rarely talk about King .
We talk about what we ’ re for.
” Besides , he added , “ we don ’ t know if it ’ s gon na be King at this point.
” And that ’ s the catch .
When Scholten ran his first campaign against @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the longest of long shots , and a bit of a curiosity—a former minor league baseball player driving around in an RV called Sioux City Sue , camping in Walmart parking lots , and trying to take down a longtime incumbent in a district President Donald Trump carried by 27 points .
But Scholten , boosted by a prolific grassroots fundraising operation and a kind of populist agrarianism that had largely disappeared from his party , closed the gap .
On Election Day 2018 , he lost by just three points—one of the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
A lot has changed since then .
King has become a pariah in Washington and in his own party .
In January , House Republican leadership stripped him of his committee assignments after he defended white nationalism in a New York Times interview .
He has been left to voice his frustrations with the political system in unhinged social media screeds .
Many of his biggest corporate donors are moving on , and primary challengers are lining up .
The 2020 election might be Democrats ’ best shot at taking King down—unless @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s no small irony in King ’ s demise : His career is sliding off the rails just as the noxious ideas that he ’ d devoted that career to advancing have finally reached the highest levels of power .
In 2012 , I sat with a small group of reporters in a cramped room in a DC hotel for a panel called “ The Failure of Multiculturalism.
” The event , part of the annual Conservative Political Action Conference , had caused a stir because of the presence of several attendees described @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the talk , in walked Steve King .
He took a seat near Peter Brimelow , founder of VDare , an anti-immigration website named after the first English child born in North America .
( Brimelow is currently suing the New York Times for labeling him a white nationalist . )
“ I ’ ve read your books !
” King told Brimelow admiringly .
Afterward , King shrugged off the exchange and told reporters he was only there to promote legislation .
This wasn ’ t about racism ; it was about @ @ @ @ @ @ @ very different things , you see .
For a decade and a half , this was the game that national Republicans let King play .
Maybe he was a little odd , perhaps he was a little coarse , but he was odd and coarse within the contours the party deemed acceptable—he was just a regular guy who wanted to build a fence along the border and electrify it so that migrants ( “ with calves the size of cantaloupes , ” he once said ) would stay out .
And the party @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
He co-chaired Ted Cruz ’ s presidential campaign , then became one of Trump ’ s biggest boosters .
All the while , his white supremacism was in plain sight .
In 2016 , King conducted a local news interview with a Confederate flag on his desk , wondered aloud if anyone had contributed more to civilization than white people , and tweeted that “ cultural suicide by demographic transformation must end.
” In 2017 , he said that “ somebody else ’ s babies ” —code for nonwhite immigrants—threatened to overtake @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s campaign gained traction in 2018 , King kept on going .
When he was asked what a “ white nationalist ” was , he expressed frustration that the label had become “ a derogatory term today—I wouldn ’ t have thought so maybe a year or two or three ago.
” He endorsed a neo-Nazi for mayor of Toronto .
He called Mexicans “ dirt , ” then said he hadn ’ t , then barred the reporter who recorded him from an event .
King drew a rebuke from the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of his major agribusiness donors , like the meatpacking giant Smithfield Foods , jumped ship .
Yet even after all that , the state ’ s three most powerful elected officials rallied to his defense .
Sen. Joni Ernst and Gov .
Kim Reynolds held a last-minute rally to shore up support for King , and Sen. Chuck Grassley filmed a short video endorsing King , declaring , “ Iowa needs Steve King in Congress.
” Apparently , Iowa didn ’ t need King so much as it just needed King to beat @ @ @ @ @ @ @ way , the break finally came in January 2019 , after a Times reporter asked King , once more , about white supremacy .
“ White nationalist , white supremacist , Western civilization—how did that language become offensive ?
” King said .
“ Why did I sit in classes teaching me about the merits of our history and our civilization ?
” In response , House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy ( R-Calif. ) stripped King of his committee assignments , including his precious spots on the agriculture and judiciary committees .
Several @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Randy Feenstra , a Republican state senator who had announced a primary challenge to King just a few days earlier , saw a window of opportunity .
“ Our current representative ’ s caustic nature has left us without a seat at the table , ” he said , calling King ’ s comments “ abhorrent.
” King beat back primary opponents in the previous two cycles , but Feenstra is his most serious challenger by far .
Feenstra now has the backing of Bob Vander Plaats , one of the state ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Bruce Rastetter , a multimillionaire ethanol magnate dubbed “ the real Iowa kingmaker ” by Politico .
But Feenstra had also been a supporter of King for years , long after King ’ s racism became undeniable .
In fact , just a few days after entering the race , Feenstra confirmed on a conservative radio show that he ’ d once told King ’ s son and campaign manager , “ I love your dad .
I ’ d never run against him.
” As Scholten drove past fields of corn and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hall in Marble Rock ( population 291 ) , he reflected on his newfound competition .
“ As far as I can tell , the only thing I see them running on is they can beat me but Steve King can ’ t , ” he said .
After his 2018 loss , Scholten started a chapter of a national nonprofit focused on poverty and became a regional dignitary , ushering Democratic presidential candidates around the district and pressing them for specifics on farm policy , especially his desire to break up the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ve worked on probably five or six of the rural policies of the presidential campaigns , ” he says .
“ Part of the reason you see antitrust in a lot of the presidential stuff—even Biden has it—is because I was pushing from the very get-go.
” He ’ s hosted a town hall with Cory Booker and shot hoops with Andrew Yang .
They get a friendly introduction ; Scholten gets an audience .
Perhaps anyone can beat Steve King this year .
But actually maintaining control of a rural district like @ @ @ @ @ @ @ policy recalibration .
Scholten toes a cautious line on health care ( “ I ’ m for all of them , ” he said of the Democratic candidates ’ plans ) but a robust one on climate change , with an ag-centric approach that he says will help farmers ’ bottom lines by paying them to conserve land and pump carbon into the soil .
Trust-busting is the core of his economic message .
“ If you know a pork producer , ask them how they did in 2017 , ” he tells @ @ @ @ @ @ @ one Republican opposition researcher ) at a library in Fredericksburg.
“ Smithfield…owns one in four hogs in Iowa and across this nation .
The CEO of China Pork , who owns Smithfield , made $ 291 million in 2017 .
That ’ s more than Elon Musk .
That ’ s more than the CEO of Apple .
That ’ s crazy.
” The agriculture industry is more consolidated today , he said , “ than when Upton Sinclair wrote The Jungle.
” Scholten might be the only candidate in America talking about @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
When I asked voters at Scholten ’ s events how they felt about King , “ embarrassment ” was the most common response .
Several brought up his loss of committee assignments .
“ It ’ s like having someone represent you that can ’ t do anything , ” said Frank Rottinghaus , the Democratic Floyd County treasurer , as he waited to hear Scholten speak in Marble Rock .
But King isn ’ t going down quietly .
With virtually no campaign cash but plenty of free time , he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s 39 counties last year .
Officially , he was updating constituents on what he was doing in Washington , but since he can ’ t really do anything in Washington , he devoted much of his time to clearing his name and trashing his rivals .
At one stop , King read aloud from 1984 .
He tried to salvage his disastrous Times interview , claiming variously that the paper distorted his words and that the hearing-assistance device he plugs into his iPhone was not properly set up .
On the House @ @ @ @ @ @ @ victim of a conspiracy led by the financier George Soros—the same man he held responsible for Trump ’ s impeachment .
In December , as the House moved toward impeaching the president , the Judiciary Committee was the hottest seat for members of Congress seeking to boost their national profiles .
But one voice was missing : King ’ s .
As his colleagues took their turns preening for national TV cameras , the man who paved the way for Trumpism , long before Trump launched his campaign , was reduced to recording @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , a hunting cap hanging from the coatrack beside him .
“ You ’ re live , ” a staffer told him .
For now , at least .

On a Sunday evening in mid-November, J.D. Scholten stood in the Swaledale, Iowa, City Hall and spoke, as he often does, about sandwiches. Scholten, a Democratic candidate for Congress in the state’s once reliably red 4th Congressional District, was in the midst of a series of town halls he called the “Don’t Forget About Us” tour, often making several stops a day in communities with fewer than 1,000 residents. About three dozen people were packed into the building’s only room, a wood-paneled space with paintings along the wall and a sagging ceiling that the 6-foot-6 Scholten could almost scrape with his perfectly bald head. Swaledale (population 158) was the smallest town he went through that day, and like most places he’d visited, it no longer had a grocery store.
“If you go from Sioux City and take the next three towns east on Highway 20,” he said, sketching a picture of the district for the crowd, “three of those have lost their grocery store in the last five years, and two of them have gained Dollar Generals.” Heads began to nod. “If you want a BLT in Correctionville, Iowa,” he continued, “you either have to grow your own tomato or drive into Sioux City to get one.”
At three stops over five hours, Scholten returned to the same themes—the rise of Dollar General, the exodus of young people, the pork monopolies, the GoFundMes for cancer patients, the grain elevators that couldn’t stay open without immigrant workers. But there was one subject Scholten almost never brought up: Steve King, the nine-term white nationalist Republican incumbent he’s trying to unseat.
“We never do,” Scholten told me, expressing surprise at my surprise. “Not never—we rarely talk about Trump, rarely talk about King. We talk about what we’re for.” Besides, he added, “we don’t know if it’s gonna be King at this point.”
And that’s the catch. When Scholten ran his first campaign against King two years ago, he was the longest of long shots, and a bit of a curiosity—a former minor league baseball player driving around in an RV called Sioux City Sue, camping in Walmart parking lots, and trying to take down a longtime incumbent in a district President Donald Trump carried by 27 points. But Scholten, boosted by a prolific grassroots fundraising operation and a kind of populist agrarianism that had largely disappeared from his party, closed the gap. On Election Day 2018, he lost by just three points—one of the biggest swings of any district in America.
A lot has changed since then. King has become a pariah in Washington and in his own party. In January, House Republican leadership stripped him of his committee assignments after he defended white nationalism in a New York Times interview. He has been left to voice his frustrations with the political system in unhinged social media screeds. Many of his biggest corporate donors are moving on, and primary challengers are lining up. The 2020 election might be Democrats’ best shot at taking King down—unless Republicans get him first.
There’s no small irony in King’s demise: His career is sliding off the rails just as the noxious ideas that he’d devoted that career to advancing have finally reached the highest levels of power.
In 2012, I sat with a small group of reporters in a cramped room in a DC hotel for a panel called “The Failure of Multiculturalism.” The event, part of the annual Conservative Political Action Conference, had caused a stir because of the presence of several attendees described as white nationalists. An hour into the talk, in walked Steve King. He took a seat near Peter Brimelow, founder of VDare, an anti-immigration website named after the first English child born in North America. (Brimelow is currently suing the New York Times for labeling him a white nationalist.) “I’ve read your books!” King told Brimelow admiringly. Afterward, King shrugged off the exchange and told reporters he was only there to promote legislation. This wasn’t about racism; it was about making English the national language. Two very different things, you see.
For a decade and a half, this was the game that national Republicans let King play. Maybe he was a little odd, perhaps he was a little coarse, but he was odd and coarse within the contours the party deemed acceptable—he was just a regular guy who wanted to build a fence along the border and electrify it so that migrants (“with calves the size of cantaloupes,” he once said) would stay out. And the party had ample space for people like that. He co-chaired Ted Cruz’s presidential campaign, then became one of Trump’s biggest boosters.
All the while, his white supremacism was in plain sight. In 2016, King conducted a local news interview with a Confederate flag on his desk, wondered aloud if anyone had contributed more to civilization than white people, and tweeted that “cultural suicide by demographic transformation must end.” In 2017, he said that “somebody else’s babies”—code for nonwhite immigrants—threatened to overtake the American experiment.
Even as Scholten’s campaign gained traction in 2018, King kept on going. When he was asked what a “white nationalist” was, he expressed frustration that the label had become “a derogatory term today—I wouldn’t have thought so maybe a year or two or three ago.” He endorsed a neo-Nazi for mayor of Toronto. He called Mexicans “dirt,” then said he hadn’t, then barred the reporter who recorded him from an event. King drew a rebuke from the National Republican Congressional Committee, and some of his major agribusiness donors, like the meatpacking giant Smithfield Foods, jumped ship. Yet even after all that, the state’s three most powerful elected officials rallied to his defense. Sen. Joni Ernst and Gov. Kim Reynolds held a last-minute rally to shore up support for King, and Sen. Chuck Grassley filmed a short video endorsing King, declaring, “Iowa needs Steve King in Congress.”
Apparently, Iowa didn’t need King so much as it just needed King to beat Scholten. With that out of the way, the break finally came in January 2019, after a Times reporter asked King, once more, about white supremacy. “White nationalist, white supremacist, Western civilization—how did that language become offensive?” King said. “Why did I sit in classes teaching me about the merits of our history and our civilization?” In response, House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy (R-Calif.) stripped King of his committee assignments, including his precious spots on the agriculture and judiciary committees. Several Republican colleagues suggested King should resign.
“As far as I can tell, the only thing I see them running on is they can beat me but Steve King can’t.”
Randy Feenstra, a Republican state senator who had announced a primary challenge to King just a few days earlier, saw a window of opportunity. “Our current representative’s caustic nature has left us without a seat at the table,” he said, calling King’s comments “abhorrent.” King beat back primary opponents in the previous two cycles, but Feenstra is his most serious challenger by far. Feenstra now has the backing of Bob Vander Plaats, one of the state’s most influential conservative activists, and Bruce Rastetter, a multimillionaire ethanol magnate dubbed “the real Iowa kingmaker” by Politico.
But Feenstra had also been a supporter of King for years, long after King’s racism became undeniable. In fact, just a few days after entering the race, Feenstra confirmed on a conservative radio show that he’d once told King’s son and campaign manager, “I love your dad. I’d never run against him.”
As Scholten drove past fields of corn and soybeans on the road to a town hall in Marble Rock (population 291), he reflected on his newfound competition. “As far as I can tell, the only thing I see them running on is they can beat me but Steve King can’t,” he said.
After his 2018 loss, Scholten started a chapter of a national nonprofit focused on poverty and became a regional dignitary, ushering Democratic presidential candidates around the district and pressing them for specifics on farm policy, especially his desire to break up the big agricultural corporations. “I’ve worked on probably five or six of the rural policies of the presidential campaigns,” he says. “Part of the reason you see antitrust in a lot of the presidential stuff—even Biden has it—is because I was pushing from the very get-go.” He’s hosted a town hall with Cory Booker and shot hoops with Andrew Yang. They get a friendly introduction; Scholten gets an audience.
Perhaps anyone can beat Steve King this year. But actually maintaining control of a rural district like Iowa’s 4th requires a deeper policy recalibration. Scholten toes a cautious line on health care (“I’m for all of them,” he said of the Democratic candidates’ plans) but a robust one on climate change, with an ag-centric approach that he says will help farmers’ bottom lines by paying them to conserve land and pump carbon into the soil.
Trust-busting is the core of his economic message. “If you know a pork producer, ask them how they did in 2017,” he tells an audience of mostly seniors (and one Republican opposition researcher) at a library in Fredericksburg.“Smithfield…owns one in four hogs in Iowa and across this nation. The CEO of China Pork, who owns Smithfield, made $291 million in 2017. That’s more than Elon Musk. That’s more than the CEO of Apple. That’s crazy.” The agriculture industry is more consolidated today, he said, “than when Upton Sinclair wrote The Jungle.” Scholten might be the only candidate in America talking about the Packers and Stockyards Act of 1921.
When I asked voters at Scholten’s events how they felt about King, “embarrassment” was the most common response. Several brought up his loss of committee assignments. “It’s like having someone represent you that can’t do anything,” said Frank Rottinghaus, the Democratic Floyd County treasurer, as he waited to hear Scholten speak in Marble Rock.
But King isn’t going down quietly. With virtually no campaign cash but plenty of free time, he held town halls in his district’s 39 counties last year. Officially, he was updating constituents on what he was doing in Washington, but since he can’t really do anything in Washington, he devoted much of his time to clearing his name and trashing his rivals. At one stop, King read aloud from 1984. He tried to salvage his disastrous Times interview, claiming variously that the paper distorted his words and that the hearing-assistance device he plugs into his iPhone was not properly set up. On the House floor, he alleged he was the victim of a conspiracy led by the financier George Soros—the same man he held responsible for Trump’s impeachment.
In December, as the House moved toward impeaching the president, the Judiciary Committee was the hottest seat for members of Congress seeking to boost their national profiles. But one voice was missing: King’s. As his colleagues took their turns preening for national TV cameras, the man who paved the way for Trumpism, long before Trump launched his campaign, was reduced to recording a video of his thoughts for Facebook, a hunting cap hanging from the coatrack beside him.
“You’re live,” a staffer told him. For now, at least.


motherjones--2020-02-24--Sen. Bob Casey Tells Prosecutors to Ignore Rudy Giuliani’s “Russian Propaganda”

Two weeks after Attorney General William Barr confirmed that he had established an “ intake process ” for information gathered by Rudy Giuliani from Ukraine , which involves federal prosecutors based in Pennsylvania , the state ’ s senior senator is calling on the Justice Department to “ reject ” any “ Russian propaganda ” funneled via that channel .
Department veterans say the selection of the US Attorney ’ s Office for the Western District of Pennsylvania , which is led by Scott W. Brady , for the role doesn ’ t make much sense .
On Monday , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to Barr arguing that the Pittsburgh-based office is plenty busy with major public safety problems , including its key role in opiod overdose-related law enforcement .
“ This new process has led me to question whether DOJ ’ s leadership is more committed to serving the President ’ s political agenda than the American people—particularly my constituents in the Western District of Pennsylvania , ” wrote Casey , who noted that claims about Ukrainian election meddling have been thoroughly debunked by Trump administration officials such as FBI Director Christopher Wray and Fiona Hill @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and Russian Affairs at the National Security Council .
A Department of Justice spokesperson did not immediately respond to a request for comment .
Giuliani , who is President Trump ’ s private lawyer , did not return a message asking about the letter .
“ Any materials related to these claims should be rejected outright by the DOJ , ” Casey wrote .
“ Law enforcement resources in Western Pennsylvania should not be diverted from combatting serious safety issues to vetting Russian propaganda from Mr. Giuliani .
”

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Two weeks after Attorney General William Barr confirmed that he had established an “intake process” for information gathered by Rudy Giuliani from Ukraine, which involves federal prosecutors based in Pennsylvania, the state’s senior senator is calling on the Justice Department to “reject” any “Russian propaganda” funneled via that channel.
“These claims should be rejected outright.”
Department veterans say the selection of the US Attorney’s Office for the Western District of Pennsylvania, which is led by Scott W. Brady, for the role doesn’t make much sense. On Monday, Democratic Sen. Bob Casey sent a letter to Barr arguing that the Pittsburgh-based office is plenty busy with major public safety problems, including its key role in opiod overdose-related law enforcement.
“This new process has led me to question whether DOJ’s leadership is more committed to serving the President’s political agenda than the American people—particularly my constituents in the Western District of Pennsylvania,” wrote Casey, who noted that claims about Ukrainian election meddling have been thoroughly debunked by Trump administration officials such as FBI Director Christopher Wray and Fiona Hill, the former Senior Director of European and Russian Affairs at the National Security Council.
Giuliani, who is President Trump’s private lawyer, told Mother Jones that Casey is “a Democrat hack covering up serious crimes at the highest levels of government.” He declined to comment on whether he has shared information with the US attorney’s office in Pittsburgh. A Department of Justice spokesperson did not respond to a request for comment.
“Any materials related to these claims should be rejected outright by the DOJ,” Casey wrote. “Law enforcement resources in Western Pennsylvania should not be diverted from combatting serious safety issues to vetting Russian propaganda from Mr. Giuliani.”
This post has been updated to include a comment from Giuliani.


motherjones--2020-02-28--4Chan Trolls Have a Plan to Mess With the Democratic Primary. It Is Incredibly Stupid.

In 2008 , Rush Limbaugh hatched a plan .
By March , John McCain had locked down the Republican ’ s nomination , and while Barack Obama held a lead in delegates , he and Hillary Clinton were still duking it out in the Democratic primaries .
If their fight could be prolonged , surely the winner would be too bloodied to pose as much of a threat to McCain in November , Limbaugh surmised .
Dubbing his plan “ Operation Chaos , ” the conservative radio host urged his listeners to show up in open primary states , most @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in an effort to lengthen the race .
For the last several weeks , right-wingers on the message board 4chan and in r/The_Donald , a subsection of Reddit made up of some of the president ’ s most toxic online supporters , have talked about encouraging their members to take part in a new operation chaos , starting in South Carolina , the first open primary of the 2020 election cycle .
While there have been dozens of posts discussing the prospect , no singular coordinated effort seems to have taken hold , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ organized campaign to troll the Democratic primaries would have much effect .
“ The Left is totally devouring itself and it ’ s a Glorious sight to see .
Gulag Bernie Bros have so much hate for Pocahontas.. we should Vote for Warren in any open primaries and keep her going , ” one Trump fan on Reddit wrote in a post that picked up over 1,000 upvotes , likely making it to the large subreddit ’ s homepage .
“ I ’ m voting Bloomberg in the dem primaries .
I think @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the weakest or most moderate D candidate , ” a poster wrote in 4chan ’ s /pol/ board , the site ’ s politics focused board that has long been a nest of alt-right trolling .
“ My state has an open primary , so I will vote for Yang just to fuck with the DNC , ” another wrote prior to Andrew Yang dropping out of the race .
Other boards on 4chan have encouraged people to vote for Sanders , reasoning that he is the candidate most likely to bring about @ @ @ @ @ @ @ current order and political systems .
( Other users have accused anonymous posters advocating for this accelerationist approach as disingenuous pro-Bernie shills . )
Some have encouraged voting for weaker performing candidates like Amy Klobuchar and Pete Buttigieg to help sustain their campaigns and drag out the competitive primary season .
While Limbaugh initially called his 2008 campaign a success , when he has touted it recently he has done so in less certain terms .
“ Actually , it may have worked in Indiana , ” Limbaugh said on his show in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s real value was how it got inside Democrats ’ heads—a claim that ’ s virtually impossible to measure .
“ At any rate , the Democrats were made paranoid by it , ” he claimed last month .
“ They ’ ve never gotten over it.
” Clinton did win Indiana over Obama , but her victory was in with what polls at the time suggested how that primary would play out and with results in other states with similar demographics .
Democrats and other political observers were skeptical Limbaugh ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and academic research since has found that his efforts were a wash .
In separate studies , Frank Stephenson , an economics professor at Barry College , and Todd Donovan , a political science professor at Western Washington University , both concluded that Limbaugh ’ s “ Operation Chaos ” in 2008 had little to no impact on the race .
“ Analysis of exit poll data from 38 states suggests that Republicans may have been voting strategically in Democratic primaries , but there is little evidence that March 4th was unusual in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Donovan explains in the abstract of his paper .
Stephenson , who looked at voting in four states , reached a similar conclusion .
Getting voters to turn out for candidates they actually like is already a difficult proposition .
Getting voters to do it for candidates they don ’ t like , even as an act of sabotage , is even harder .
“ There ’ s a collective action problem , ” Stephenson told Mother Jones .
“ People like to talk about monkeying around in other parties ’ elections , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ into anything in the real world .
Many people don ’ t even show up to vote for candidates that they already support.
” According to Donovan , there ’ s a fundamental problem for tricksters like Limbaugh who push such plots .
Even if they were to lengthen the contest , evidence suggests that longer , drawn-out primaries don ’ t hurt winning candidates when November comes .
“ Studies have looked into if a contested , long nomination process has an effect on general .
The conclusions are that it doesn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ In a 2015 paper , Robert Hogan of Louisiana State University found that if combative primaries did have an effect , it was one in “ the opposite direction than anticipated ” by observers who assume they leave the winner weakened .
“ Greater divisiveness in a candidate ’ s primary leads to a higher vote share in the general election , ” Hogan concluded .
“ The presence of a primary challenge is found to exert a substantial positive influence for a candidate in the general election , particularly in open seat @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the fact that primaries can help expose voters to far more information about the winning candidate than they would get in a shorter election .
The finding suggests that even in cutthroat races , almost any exposure becomes good exposure by the time of the general election .
In this way , Hogan ’ s analysis suggests that even if Limbaugh ’ s intervention had the effect he sought , it would have backfired .
If Limbaugh , one of the right ’ s largest media figures who has a cult of personality @ @ @ @ @ @ @ listeners , failed to have a measurable effect in 2008 , its hard to believe that an informal piece-mealed plot launched on fringe internet communities will make a dent this year .
But 2020 is not 2008 , and there ’ s a chance key differences could make such trolling easier and more effective .
As Donovan noted , unlike in 2008 , Republicans don ’ t have a competitive election to vote in , potentially giving them more time and energy to raid Democratic elections .
But he said he was still @ @ @ @ @ @ @ South Carolina Republicans canceled their presidential primary this year–primaries for lower offices won ’ t take place until June . )
Stephenson also pointed out that political movements are formed and shaped differently now than in 2008 , with the proliferation of social media .
Groups can raise and activate campaigns in diffuse and often little-noticed ways that were only just starting to take shape over a decade ago .
“ If there ’ s a change , if this year is going to be different somehow , it could happen because of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” he said .
“ Instead of Limbaugh instigating it , people on social media might do it .
At the end of the day though , people still have to show up to vote—which is hard .
”

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In 2008, Rush Limbaugh hatched a plan. By March, John McCain had locked down the Republican’s nomination, and while Barack Obama held a lead in delegates, he and Hillary Clinton were still duking it out in the Democratic primaries. If their fight could be prolonged, surely the winner would be too bloodied to pose as much of a threat to McCain in November, Limbaugh surmised. Dubbing his plan “Operation Chaos,” the conservative radio host urged his listeners to show up in open primary states, most notably Indiana, and vote for Clinton in an effort to lengthen the race.
For the last several weeks, right-wingers on the message board 4chan and in r/The_Donald, a subsection of Reddit made up of some of the president’s most toxic online supporters, have talked about encouraging their members to take part in a new operation chaos, starting in South Carolina, the first open primary of the 2020 election cycle. While there have been dozens of posts discussing the prospect, no singular coordinated effort seems to have taken hold, and it is unlikely that even an organized campaign to troll the Democratic primaries would have much effect.
“Talk about monkeying around in other parties’ elections…usually doesn’t translate into anything.”
“The Left is totally devouring itself and it’s a Glorious sight to see. Gulag Bernie Bros have so much hate for Pocahontas.. we should Vote for Warren in any open primaries and keep her going,” one Trump fan on Reddit wrote in a post that picked up over 1,000 upvotes, likely making it to the large subreddit’s homepage.
“I’m voting Bloomberg in the dem primaries. I think all republicans should vote in them for the weakest or most moderate D candidate,” a poster wrote in 4chan’s /pol/ board, the site’s politics focused board that has long been a nest of alt-right trolling. “My state has an open primary, so I will vote for Yang just to fuck with the DNC,” another wrote prior to Andrew Yang dropping out of the race.
Other boards on 4chan have encouraged people to vote for Sanders, reasoning that he is the candidate most likely to bring about a collapse of the United States’ current order and political systems. (Other users have accused anonymous posters advocating for this accelerationist approach as disingenuous pro-Bernie shills.) Some have encouraged voting for weaker performing candidates like Amy Klobuchar and Pete Buttigieg to help sustain their campaigns and drag out the competitive primary season.
While Limbaugh initially called his 2008 campaign a success, when he has touted it recently he has done so in less certain terms. “Actually, it may have worked in Indiana,” Limbaugh said on his show in January, before saying that the plot’s real value was how it got inside Democrats’ heads—a claim that’s virtually impossible to measure. “At any rate, the Democrats were made paranoid by it,” he claimed last month. “They’ve never gotten over it.”
Clinton did win Indiana over Obama, but her victory was in with what polls at the time suggested how that primary would play out and with results in other states with similar demographics. Democrats and other political observers were skeptical Limbaugh’s sabotage plan made a difference, and academic research since has found that his efforts were a wash.
In separate studies, Frank Stephenson, an economics professor at Barry College, and Todd Donovan, a political science professor at Western Washington University, both concluded that Limbaugh’s “Operation Chaos” in 2008 had little to no impact on the race.
“Analysis of exit poll data from 38 states suggests that Republicans may have been voting strategically in Democratic primaries, but there is little evidence that March 4th was unusual in the scope of strategic behavior,” Donovan explains in the abstract of his paper. Stephenson, who looked at voting in four states, reached a similar conclusion.
Getting voters to turn out for candidates they actually like is already a difficult proposition. Getting voters to do it for candidates they don’t like, even as an act of sabotage, is even harder.
“People don’t even show up to vote for candidates that they already support.”
“There’s a collective action problem,” Stephenson told Mother Jones. “People like to talk about monkeying around in other parties’ elections, but it usually doesn’t translate into anything in the real world. Many people don’t even show up to vote for candidates that they already support.”
According to Donovan, there’s a fundamental problem for tricksters like Limbaugh who push such plots. Even if they were to lengthen the contest, evidence suggests that longer, drawn-out primaries don’t hurt winning candidates when November comes. “Studies have looked into if a contested, long nomination process has an effect on general. The conclusions are that it doesn’t,” Donovan said.
In a 2015 paper, Robert Hogan of Louisiana State University found that if combative primaries did have an effect, it was one in “the opposite direction than anticipated” by observers who assume they leave the winner weakened.
“Greater divisiveness in a candidate’s primary leads to a higher vote share in the general election,” Hogan concluded. “The presence of a primary challenge is found to exert a substantial positive influence for a candidate in the general election, particularly in open seat contests.”
Hogan chalks this up to the fact that primaries can help expose voters to far more information about the winning candidate than they would get in a shorter election. The finding suggests that even in cutthroat races, almost any exposure becomes good exposure by the time of the general election. In this way, Hogan’s analysis suggests that even if Limbaugh’s intervention had the effect he sought, it would have backfired.
If Limbaugh, one of the right’s largest media figures who has a cult of personality and a near-fanatical base of millions of listeners, failed to have a measurable effect in 2008, its hard to believe that an informal piece-mealed plot launched on fringe internet communities will make a dent this year.
But 2020 is not 2008, and there’s a chance key differences could make such trolling easier and more effective.
As Donovan noted, unlike in 2008, Republicans don’t have a competitive election to vote in, potentially giving them more time and energy to raid Democratic elections. But he said he was still skeptical this would actually happen. (South Carolina Republicans canceled their presidential primary this year–primaries for lower offices won’t take place until June.)
Stephenson also pointed out that political movements are formed and shaped differently now than in 2008, with the proliferation of social media. Groups can raise and activate campaigns in diffuse and often little-noticed ways that were only just starting to take shape over a decade ago.
“If there’s a change, if this year is going to be different somehow, it could happen because of it being a social media environment,” he said. “Instead of Limbaugh instigating it, people on social media might do it. At the end of the day though, people still have to show up to vote—which is hard.”


motherjones--2020-02-28--“Nobody Dared Cross Him”: A Look Back at That Time Michael Bloomberg Bought a Third Mayoral Term

Shortly after noon on October 2 , 2008 , Michael Bloomberg—nearing the end of his second , and what should have been final , term as mayor of New York City—addressed a packed room in City Hall with clear intentions .
“ In recent weeks and months , as you know , I ’ ve listened to many different New Yorkers , with lots of different opinions on the issue of term limits , ” he said .
“ But as our economic situation has become increasingly unstable , the question for me has become far less about the theoretical @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The 2008 financial crisis had reached its apex ; weeks earlier , investment bank Lehman Brothers had collapsed and filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy .
The day after Bloomberg ’ s presser , President George W. Bush would sign a bill to give the banks responsible for the whole mess a $ 700 billion bailout .
New York City , like the rest of the country , was in rough economic shape and Bloomberg—whose $ 20 billion estimated worth at the time was unscathed—believed he should be given the chance to continue his @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of it .
But Bloomberg had a problem : New York City had a strict two-term limit for elected officials—a fiercely popular measure that voters had twice overwhelmingly voted in favor of , in 1993 and 1996 .
Furthermore , public polling at the time showed little support for abolishing or extending term limits .
So Bloomberg and his staff concocted a plan that sidestepped the traditional democratic process , instead using the City Council to introduce an unusual bill that allowed people currently holding office the ability to serve a third term @ @ @ @ @ @ @ backdoor effort that undermines the will of voters—but Bloomberg had spent months behind the scenes courting support from council members , charitable organizations , and even the editorial boards of the city ’ s biggest newspapers to back his plan .
It was an effort that exemplified how Bloomberg , as mayor , used his immense wealth to get what he wanted .
“ He ‘ does not care what it costs ’ to win a third term , ” a former advisor told the New York Times at the time .
As @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , there was hardly a problem he couldn ’ t make go away with enough money .
Nearly $ 3 billion in donations , most of it to local arts organizations , charities , and other civic groups during his 12 years in office bought him a kind of loyalty and support akin to a mafia boss .
When unions would tangle with Bloomberg over contracts and policies , for example , reliable allies from local churches and other civic groups would remain silent .
“ For years we would try and do @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s harsh policies and just couldn ’ t get some of these groups to join us , ” says Patrick Markee , who served as a senior policy analyst for the Coalition for the Homeless during Bloomberg ’ s tenure as mayor .
“ And many times they would tell me off the record or privately , ‘ We can ’ t do anything , he ’ s a big donor and we ’ d get in trouble.
’ ” “ He had such incredible wealth to spread around , that nobody dared @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , ” adds Mary Brosnahan , the former president and CEO of the Coalition for the Homeless who sometimes sparred with Bloomberg over policy issues while in that role .
In the days and weeks after Bloomberg ’ s announcement at City Hall on October 2 , 2008 , powerful civic leaders and organizations who had previously disavowed the idea of abolishing term limits came out of the woodwork to support the mayor ’ s efforts .
It was all part of an intense pressure campaign that Bloomberg and his deputy mayors mounted @ @ @ @ @ @ @ neighborhood , and community organizations that heavily relied on his massive charitable contributions .
At least one of those organizations , as revealed years later on their tax returns , received millions of dollars in donations from Bloomberg during this time .
Now , as Bloomberg ’ s quest to be the Democratic presidential nominee shifts into high gear , the power of his $ 62.8 billion fortune is being tested like never before .
Bloomberg has , so far , spent nearly half a billion dollars of his own money—a fraction of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ he officially launched his campaign in November , flooding the airwaves with ads , spamming the internet with memes , and building an army of staffers so big that other campaigns are having trouble staffing up .
“ What he ’ s doing is duplicating what he did in the city , but putting it on a national scale , ” says Douglas Muzzio , a political science professor and longtime political analyst at Baruch College .
“ If you have that much wealth , you can build an amazing wagon.
” Both @ @ @ @ @ @ @ how that wagon is built .
Just weeks after Bloomberg announced his intentions to stay in office , the City Council voted on the bill that would pave the way for his third term .
And in that time , Bloomberg ’ s deputy mayors had mounted a massive pressure campaign to drum up support , as the New York Times reported at the time : It worked .
During the public hearings in the days leading up to the vote , dozens of people testified in front of the Council .
Most @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the bill to extend term limits , explaining that they previously voted in favor of term limits but thought that the law should be amended to keep Mayor Bloomberg in place , an analysis of public testimony records shows .
“ Under normal circumstances would I be in favor of term extensions ?
No , I would not , ” wrote Geoffrey Canada , the CEO of Harlem Children ’ s Zone , an organization that provides services for children and families that had received more than half a million dollars in donations @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ d been in office at that point .
“ But under these circumstances I think we need a steady , seasoned veteran such as Mayor Bloomberg.
” And a majority of those who testified were people publicly affiliated with , or secretly sent by , one of several nonprofit organizations that received significant contributions from Bloomberg , including the Harlem Children ’ s Zone , the Public Art Fund , and the Doe Fund—a nonprofit homeless services organization that was one of Bloomberg ’ s biggest champions at the time .
Markee @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of Doe Fund clients—homeless residents who were getting minimum-wage work and receiving shelter from the organization—who were transported to City Hall to testify in support of the term limits bill .
“ They essentially gave them a prepared script and told them to go in and just line up and testify one after one , ” he remembers .
“ They were essentially just told , ‘ As part of your job today , we ’ re taking you down to City Hall and you ’ ve got ta testify in favor of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” “ It saddened me to see them used like that , as such tokens , ” Brosnahan says .
Muzzio also remembers the people in red shirts who filled the council chamber .
“ I asked somebody to my right and he said , ‘ They ’ re all from the Doe Fund , ’ ” he recalls .
“ And it sort of clicked at that moment that the charitable contributions from Bloomberg were political contributions in a sense .
He knew they would have a political impact.
” Two years @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Doe Fund had received tens of millions of dollars at that time in donations from the mayor .
In response to inquiries about the organization ’ s role in advocating against term limits on Bloomberg ’ s behalf , a spokesperson for the Doe Fund tells Mother Jones that “ George McDonald , Founder and President of the Doe Fund , has always opposed term limits .
He has been vocal about his opposition every time the issue arose.
” ( Bloomberg ’ s presidential campaign did not respond to a request for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , the council paved the way for Bloomberg ’ s third term .
Not everyone was excited about the vote .
People in the balcony of the chamber erupted in chants of “ The city ’ s for sale !
” and “ Shame on you !
” according to the Times .
Later , upon hearing that the bill passed , Bloomberg told the Times , “ I had a smile on my face .
Also a little bit of a tinge of , ‘ Oh , my goodness !
I hope @ @ @ @ @ @ @ here .
We ’ re going to have some very tough times.
’ ” Thus far , Bloomberg ’ s campaign has become something of an unprecedented political experiment .
Not just in how much he ’ s invested in his own campaign , but what the many billions he ’ s spent on political contributions and philanthropic efforts might buy him .
Bloomberg Philanthropies , the charitable arm of his business empire , has given away billions of dollars for liberal and social justice causes—environmental issues , humanitarian efforts in the US @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and the arts .
And a lot of that money has supported cities across the country , which so far has helped him earn the endorsement of more than 100 mayors—some of whom have joined the campaign .
His political action committee , Independence USA , spent more than $ 38 million to boost Democratic candidates during the 2018 midterm elections , which helped flip party control of the House of Representatives to Democrats .
At Tuesday ’ s Democratic debate in South Carolina , Bloomberg mentioned this effort but appeared to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ catching himself at the last moment and saying “ I got them.
” One of Bloomberg ’ s most visible philanthropic efforts has been on gun control , where he founded the influential Everytown for Gun Safety and its subsidiary organization Moms Demand Action .
And upon entering the 2020 race , Bloomberg did so with access to the vast trove of email addresses that Moms Demand had acquired in its eight years of gun control advocacy work .
“ My worst fear is that the country is going to have to relearn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , as they did with Trump , ” Brosnahan says .
“ We all knew that he was a blowhard and a scam artist , now do we have to watch the nation learn that this guy was not a successful mayor ?
”

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Shortly after noon on October 2, 2008, Michael Bloomberg—nearing the end of his second, and what should have been final, term as mayor of New York City—addressed a packed room in City Hall with clear intentions. “In recent weeks and months, as you know, I’ve listened to many different New Yorkers, with lots of different opinions on the issue of term limits,” he said. “But as our economic situation has become increasingly unstable, the question for me has become far less about the theoretical and much more about the practical.” The 2008 financial crisis had reached its apex; weeks earlier, investment bank Lehman Brothers had collapsed and filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy. The day after Bloomberg’s presser, President George W. Bush would sign a bill to give the banks responsible for the whole mess a $700 billion bailout. New York City, like the rest of the country, was in rough economic shape and Bloomberg—whose $20 billion estimated worth at the time was unscathed—believed he should be given the chance to continue his job and help pull the city out of it.
But Bloomberg had a problem: New York City had a strict two-term limit for elected officials—a fiercely popular measure that voters had twice overwhelmingly voted in favor of, in 1993 and 1996. Public polling at the time showed little support for abolishing or extending term limits. So Bloomberg and his staff concocted a plan that sidestepped the traditional democratic process, instead using the City Council to introduce an unusual bill that allowed people currently holding office the ability to serve a third term. It was a risky political move—a backdoor effort that undermines the will of voters—but Bloomberg had spent months behind the scenes courting support from council members, charitable organizations, and even the editorial boards of the city’s biggest newspapers to back his plan. It was an effort that exemplified how Bloomberg, as mayor, used his immense wealth to get what he wanted. “He ‘does not care what it costs’ to win a third term,” a former advisor told the New York Times at the time.
“He had such incredible wealth to spread around, that nobody dared cross him by speaking the obvious truth.”
As Bloomberg learned during his time as mayor, there was hardly a problem he couldn’t make go away with enough money. Nearly $3 billion in donations, most of it to local arts organizations, charities, and other civic groups during his 12 years in office, bought him a kind of loyalty and support akin to a mafia boss. When unions would tangle with Bloomberg over contracts and policies, for example, reliable allies from local churches and other civic groups would remain silent. “For years we would try and do actions to counter some of Bloomberg’s harsh policies and just couldn’t get some of these groups to join us,” says Patrick Markee, who served as a senior policy analyst for the Coalition for the Homeless during Bloomberg’s tenure as mayor. “And many times they would tell me off the record or privately, ‘We can’t do anything, he’s a big donor and we’d get in trouble.’”
“He had such incredible wealth to spread around, that nobody dared cross him by speaking the obvious truth,” adds Mary Brosnahan, former president and CEO of the Coalition for the Homeless, who sometimes sparred with Bloomberg over policy issues. In the days and weeks after Bloomberg’s announcement at City Hall on October 2, 2008, powerful civic leaders who had previously disavowed the idea of abolishing term limits came out of the woodwork to support the mayor’s efforts. It was all part of an intense pressure campaign that Bloomberg and his deputy mayors mounted on his vast network of arts, neighborhood, and community organizations that heavily relied on his massive charitable contributions. At least one of those organizations, as revealed years later on their tax returns, received millions of dollars in donations from Bloomberg during this time.
Now, as Bloomberg’s quest for the Democratic presidential nomination shifts into high gear, the power of his $62.8 billion fortune is being tested like never before. Bloomberg has spent nearly half a billion dollars of his own money so far—a fraction of a drop in the bucket for him—since he launched his campaign in November, flooding the airwaves with ads, spamming the internet with memes, and building an army of staffers so big that other campaigns are having trouble staffing up. “What he’s doing is duplicating what he did in the city, but putting it on a national scale,” says Douglas Muzzio, a political science professor and longtime political analyst at Baruch College. “If you have that much wealth, you can build an amazing wagon.”
Both Brosnahan and Muzzio have seen up close how that wagon is built. Just weeks after Bloomberg announced his intentions to stay in office, the City Council voted on the bill that would pave the way for his third term. And in that time, Bloomberg’s deputy mayors had mounted a massive pressure campaign to drum up support, as the New York Times reported at the time:
An official at a social service group that receives tens of thousands of dollars from Mr. Bloomberg and has a contract with the city was startled to receive a call in the past few days from Linda I. Gibbs, the deputy mayor for health and human services. Ms. Gibbs asked whether the organization’s leaders would be willing to call wavering council members to argue for Mr. Bloomberg’s term limits legislation. “It’s pretty hard to say no,” the official said, speaking on condition of anonymity for fear of upsetting the mayor. “They can take away a lot of resources.”
It worked. During the public hearings in the days leading up to the vote, dozens of people testified in front of the council. Most who testified did so in support of the bill to extend term limits, explaining that they previously voted in favor of term limits but thought that the law should be amended to keep Mayor Bloomberg in place, an analysis of public testimony records shows. “Under normal circumstances would I be in favor of term extensions? No, I would not,” wrote Geoffrey Canada, CEO of Harlem Children’s Zone, an organization that provides services for children and families that had received more than half a million dollars in donations from Bloomberg in the six years he’d been in office at that point. “But under these circumstances I think we need a steady, seasoned veteran such as Mayor Bloomberg.”
And a majority of those who testified were people publicly affiliated with, or secretly sent by, one of several nonprofit organizations that received significant contributions from Bloomberg, including the Harlem Children’s Zone, the Public Art Fund, and the Doe Fund—a nonprofit homeless services organization that was one of Bloomberg’s biggest champions at the time. Markee vividly remembers the “van loads” of Doe Fund clients—homeless residents who were getting minimum-wage work and receiving shelter from the organization—who were transported to City Hall to testify in support of the term limits bill. “They essentially gave them a prepared script and told them to go in and just line up and testify one after one,” he remembers. “They were essentially just told, ‘As part of your job today, we’re taking you down to City Hall and you’ve gotta testify in favor of giving Bloomberg a third term.'”
“It saddened me to see them used like that, as such tokens,” Brosnahan says. Muzzio also remembers the people in red shirts who filled the council chamber. “I asked somebody to my right and he said, ‘They’re all from the Doe Fund,’” he recalls. “It sort of clicked at that moment that the charitable contributions from Bloomberg were political contributions in a sense. He knew they would have a political impact.” Two years later, it was revealed that the Doe Fund had received tens of millions of dollars at that time in donations from the mayor. In response to inquiries about the organization’s role in advocating against term limits on Bloomberg’s behalf, a spokesperson for the Doe Fund tells Mother Jones that “George McDonald, Founder and President of the Doe Fund, has always opposed term limits. He has been vocal about his opposition every time the issue arose.” (Bloomberg’s presidential campaign did not respond to a request for comment.)
In a 29–22 vote, the council paved the way for Bloomberg’s third term. Not everyone was excited about the vote. People in the balcony of the chamber erupted in chants of “The city’s for sale!” and “Shame on you!” according to the Times. Later, upon hearing that the bill passed, Bloomberg told the Times, “I had a smile on my face. Also a little bit of a tinge of, ‘Oh, my goodness! I hope I know what I’m doing here. We’re going to have some very tough times.’”
So far, Bloomberg’s campaign has become something of an unprecedented political experiment. Not just in how much he’s invested in his own campaign, but what the many billions he’s spent on political contributions and philanthropic efforts might buy him. Bloomberg Philanthropies, the charitable arm of his business empire, has given away billions for liberal and social justice causes—environmental issues, humanitarian efforts in the US and abroad, education, government innovation, and the arts. And a lot of that money has supported cities across the country, which so far has helped him earn the endorsement of more than 100 mayors—some of whom have joined the campaign. His political action committee, Independence USA, spent more than $38 million to boost Democratic candidates during the 2018 midterm elections, which helped flip party control of the House of Representatives to Democrats. At Tuesday’s Democratic debate in South Carolina, Bloomberg mentioned this effort but appeared to say he “bought” Democrats before catching himself at the last moment and saying “I got them.” One of Bloomberg’s most visible philanthropic efforts has been on gun control, where he founded the influential Everytown for Gun Safety and its subsidiary organization Moms Demand Action. And upon entering the 2020 race, Bloomberg did so with access to the vast trove of email addresses that Moms Demand had acquired in its eight years of gun control advocacy work.
“My worst fear is that the country is going to have to relearn the same lessons that we learned here, as they did with Trump,” Brosnahan says. “We all knew that he was a blowhard and a scam artist. Now do we have to watch the nation learn that this guy was not a successful mayor?”


motherjones--2020-02-28--The Supreme Court Could Place an Impossible Burden on Women Fighting for Abortion Rights

In 1973 , Jane Roe , whose real name was Norma McCorvey , won a landmark victory at the Supreme Court : She and every woman in the United States were guaranteed the constitutional right to an abortion .
But this didn ’ t actually resolve the problem that led McCorvey to file her suit three years earlier ; she gave birth while Roe v. Wade was being litigated .
The case also threw McCorvey into a harsh spotlight she never wanted .
She later became an anti-abortion crusader , but she was forever forced to carry the burden of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ became shorthand for abortion rights .
In the years that followed Roe , subsequent court rulings enshrined a slew of other abortion protections , including one that would protect other pregnant people from those types of burdens .
Nearly 50 years ago , a lesser-known but critical case , Singleton v. Wulff , gave abortion providers the power to sue for their patients ’ well-being , known as third-party standing .
That ruling shifted the legal burden from individual women to clinics with greater resources .
But that safeguard is now at risk @ @ @ @ @ @ @ be eliminated , the consequences could be vast—upending abortion law and litigation at a time when the basic right to the procedure is already vulnerable .
The Supreme Court is preparing to hear arguments in June Medical Services v. Russo next week .
The case centers on a 2014 Louisiana law requiring abortion providers to have admitting privileges at local hospitals .
But in a counter-petition , Russo v. June Medical Services , the state of Louisiana is questioning the entire basis of the case , specifically the right of abortion providers to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ If the justices decide that abortion providers do not , in fact , have third-party standing , pregnant plaintiffs will likely be required to file suit themselves , almost certainly resulting in fewer abortion-related lawsuits .
That , in turn , would take the pressure off states that are unconstitutionally regulating the procedure .
Advocates would be forced to fight against an onslaught of abortion bans , like many of those seen in 2019 , under great personal and financial strain .
And given how long these cases take , it ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the same position as McCorvey : fighting a long legal battle that no longer has anything to do with their individual ability to get an abortion .
“ It ’ s almost impossible to imagine that an individual patient…would divert the resources required to litigate the case away from the challenges of her own personal life , to vindicate the rights of other women in order to prevent the law from going into effect , ” says TJ Tu , a lawyer representing June Medical , the Louisiana abortion provider , on behalf @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Amy Hagstrom Miller , the founder and CEO of Whole Woman ’ s Health , which runs eight abortion clinics across the country , has firsthand experience leading the legal fight against abortion restrictions .
In 2015 , she sued Texas over an anti-abortion law nearly identical to Louisiana ’ s .
She describes the process of being the plaintiff in Whole Woman ’ s Health v. Hellerstedt , in which the Supreme Court struck down the Texas law in 2016 , as a trauma that she ’ ll never forget , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ close clinics and turn away women who needed abortion care .
She vividly recalls the opposing attorneys raking through Whole Woman ’ s Health ’ s emails in the discovery process and the vitriol that she and her colleagues received as a result of being the faces of a high-profile case .
“ If a pregnant person had to bring a lawsuit on behalf of themselves , and undertake what we have gone through , it ’ s not only ridiculous , it ’ s actually cruel , ” Hagstrom Miller says .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ , I ’ ve been in the witness stand myself .
And even if I was [ anonymous ] , how disruptive that is , and the discovery and the process and the time it takes to even go through the preparation for a deposition or being a witness , it ’ s really , really difficult .
So just saying , ‘ Oh , well , that ’ s the only path to justice that a patient could have , ’ it ’ s scary and it ’ s also just extreme.
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ individual to bring a suit today than it was for McCorvey in the 1970s .
The inescapable gaze of the internet brings risks of harassment and doxxing .
“ To think that somebody has to bring a lawsuit in order to assert their rights and sacrifice their confidentiality , sacrifice their family ’ s well-being… , ” Hagstrom Miller says , trailing off .
In states like Louisiana , which last year passed one of the most restrictive early gestational abortion bans in the country , it ’ s difficult to imagine a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a whole host of other restrictions .
The average person seeking an abortion in the state is a low-income woman living with a child or children of her own , miles away from the nearest clinic .
She often has to find child care , money for the procedure , and transportation .
She has to return to the clinic , because Louisiana has a mandatory 24-hour waiting period between a consultation and an abortion , which means more travel and child care costs .
If women are forced to file the lawsuits @ @ @ @ @ @ @ those obstacles while simultaneously having to marshal the resources to fight a drawn-out legal battle against powerful state entities , potentially over the course of years .
In addition , they would be required to delay access to a medical service they have already decided they need because they would have to be pregnant and seeking an abortion when the lawsuit was filed .
Ultimately , abortion providers are best suited to argue these cases , says Marc Hearron , senior counsel for the Center for Reproductive Rights .
They see the wider @ @ @ @ @ @ @ patients—and also how individuals can suffer .
The providers can articulate the lack of medical basis for an admitting-privileges requirement and explain why these privileges are next to impossible to get , in ways that individual patients are unlikely to understand .
“ Any patient who is seeking an abortion doesn ’ t necessarily have access to all of those facts and may not even understand why it is that she is unable to access an abortion , ” says Hearron .
“ All she knows is that the clinic has shut down.
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ shrewd strategy on the part of anti-abortion opponents .
Mary Ziegler , a professor at Florida State University who studies the history of abortion law , explains that the approach calls into question the intentions of abortion providers .
“ The general argument is that abortion providers don ’ t have patients ’ best interests in mind , ” Ziegler says .
“ If the court accepts that argument , it will say a lot about the court ’ s willingness to buy arguments that abortion is bad for patients or bad for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ lot about who gets to decide what , exactly , is in the best interest of women who seek abortion care .
Next week , the lawyers for June Medical will argue that there is no difference between the Texas law that was at the heart of Whole Woman ’ s Health and the 2014 Louisiana law .
But since that ruling , two new anti-abortion justices have been confirmed to the court , and earlier this year , the Trump administration filed a brief that proposes eliminating third-party standing for providers .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s Health case , conservative Justice Clarence Thomas made a direct argument against third-party standing for abortion providers in his dissent .
If the court does dismantle third-party standing all-together , the impact could sweep the entire judiciary system , as many of the cases currently being fought in the courts by clinics—in Alabama , Missouri , Georgia , and elsewhere—may become moot or have to be refiled , says Stephen Wermiel , a constitutional law professor at American University Washington College of Law .
While their exact futures would depend on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ its final ruling , there would , without a doubt , be a “ destabilizing effect , ” says Tu .
If the court eliminates third-party standing for abortion providers , many women and abortion rights supporters may not even know there ’ s been a change .
Dismantling abortion rights by attacking an obscure legal principle could result in less pushback than has occurred in states that are passing outright bans on early-term abortions .
“ Once [ abortion opponents ] passed the six-week bans , the public really turned against them @ @ @ @ @ @ @ leads the reproductive rights program at the National Women ’ s Law Center .
“ People were protesting in the middle of the street in Alabama , in the middle of the week .
[ Anti-abortion advocates ] get that.
” Even if the legal principle at issue is opaque , the stakes of the case are high .
“ It is almost as much of a threat to the right to abortion , ” says Tu , “ as reversing Roe v. Wade .
”

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In 1973, Jane Roe, whose real name was Norma McCorvey, won a landmark victory at the Supreme Court: She and every woman in the United States were guaranteed the constitutional right to an abortion. But this didn’t actually resolve the problem that led McCorvey to file her suit three years earlier; she gave birth while Roe v. Wade was being litigated. The case also threw McCorvey into a harsh spotlight she never wanted. She later became an anti-abortion crusader, but she was forever forced to carry the burden of being the plaintiff in the case that became shorthand for abortion rights.
In the years that followed Roe, subsequent court rulings enshrined a slew of other abortion protections, including one that would protect other pregnant people from those types of burdens. Nearly 50 years ago, a lesser-known but critical case, Singleton v. Wulff, gave abortion providers the power to sue for their patients’ well-being, known as third-party standing. That ruling shifted the legal burden from individual women to clinics with greater resources.
But that safeguard is now at risk of disappearing. If it were to be eliminated, the consequences could be vast—upending abortion law and litigation at a time when the basic right to the procedure is already vulnerable.
The Supreme Court is preparing to hear arguments in June Medical Services v. Russo next week. The case centers on a 2014 Louisiana law requiring abortion providers to have admitting privileges at local hospitals. But in a counter-petition, Russo v. June Medical Services, the state of Louisiana is questioning the entire basis of the case, specifically the right of abortion providers to file lawsuits that challenge abortion restrictions. If the justices decide that abortion providers do not, in fact, have third-party standing, pregnant plaintiffs will likely be required to file suit themselves, almost certainly resulting in fewer abortion-related lawsuits. That, in turn, would take the pressure off states that are unconstitutionally regulating the procedure.
Advocates would be forced to fight against an onslaught of abortion bans, like many of those seen in 2019, under great personal and financial strain. And given how long these cases take, it’s likely they’d end up in the same position as McCorvey: fighting a long legal battle that no longer has anything to do with their individual ability to get an abortion.
“It’s almost impossible to imagine that an individual patient…would divert the resources required to litigate the case away from the challenges of her own personal life, to vindicate the rights of other women in order to prevent the law from going into effect,” says TJ Tu, a lawyer representing June Medical, the Louisiana abortion provider, on behalf of the Center for Reproductive Rights.
“It is almost as much of a threat to the right to abortion as reversing Roe v. Wade.”
Amy Hagstrom Miller, the founder and CEO of Whole Woman’s Health, which runs eight abortion clinics across the country, has firsthand experience leading the legal fight against abortion restrictions. In 2015, she sued Texas over an anti-abortion law nearly identical to Louisiana’s. She describes the process of being the plaintiff in Whole Woman’s Health v. Hellerstedt, in which the Supreme Court struck down the Texas law in 2016, as a trauma that she’ll never forget, and not just because she was forced to close clinics and turn away women who needed abortion care. She vividly recalls the opposing attorneys raking through Whole Woman’s Health’s emails in the discovery process and the vitriol that she and her colleagues received as a result of being the faces of a high-profile case.
“If a pregnant person had to bring a lawsuit on behalf of themselves, and undertake what we have gone through, it’s not only ridiculous, it’s actually cruel,” Hagstrom Miller says. “I’ve been through depositions, I’ve been in the witness stand myself. And even if I was [anonymous], how disruptive that is, and the discovery and the process and the time it takes to even go through the preparation for a deposition or being a witness, it’s really, really difficult. So just saying, ‘Oh, well, that’s the only path to justice that a patient could have,’ it’s scary and it’s also just extreme.”
It would be riskier for an individual to bring a suit today than it was for McCorvey in the 1970s. The inescapable gaze of the internet brings risks of harassment and doxxing. “To think that somebody has to bring a lawsuit in order to assert their rights and sacrifice their confidentiality, sacrifice their family’s well-being…,” Hagstrom Miller says, trailing off.
In states like Louisiana, which last year passed one of the most restrictive early gestational abortion bans in the country, it’s difficult to imagine a pregnant plaintiff bringing a suit while surmounting a whole host of other restrictions. The average person seeking an abortion in the state is a low-income woman living with a child or children of her own, miles away from the nearest clinic. She often has to find child care, money for the procedure, and transportation. She has to return to the clinic, because Louisiana has a mandatory 24-hour waiting period between a consultation and an abortion, which means more travel and child care costs.
If women are forced to file the lawsuits individually, they would face all of those obstacles while simultaneously having to marshal the resources to fight a drawn-out legal battle against powerful state entities, potentially over the course of years. In addition, they would be required to delay access to a medical service they have already decided they need because they would have to be pregnant and seeking an abortion when the lawsuit was filed.
Ultimately, abortion providers are best suited to argue these cases, says Marc Hearron, senior counsel for the Center for Reproductive Rights. They see the wider landscape—how restrictions impact a slew of different patients—and also how individuals can suffer. The providers can articulate the lack of medical basis for an admitting-privileges requirement and explain why these privileges are next to impossible to get, in ways that individual patients are unlikely to understand. “Any patient who is seeking an abortion doesn’t necessarily have access to all of those facts and may not even understand why it is that she is unable to access an abortion,” says Hearron. “All she knows is that the clinic has shut down.”
Attacking third-party standing is a particularly shrewd strategy on the part of anti-abortion opponents. Mary Ziegler, a professor at Florida State University who studies the history of abortion law, explains that the approach calls into question the intentions of abortion providers. “The general argument is that abortion providers don’t have patients’ best interests in mind,” Ziegler says. “If the court accepts that argument, it will say a lot about the court’s willingness to buy arguments that abortion is bad for patients or bad for women.”
It also will say a lot about who gets to decide what, exactly, is in the best interest of women who seek abortion care.
Next week, the lawyers for June Medical will argue that there is no difference between the Texas law that was at the heart of Whole Woman’s Health and the 2014 Louisiana law. But since that ruling, two new anti-abortion justices have been confirmed to the court, and earlier this year, the Trump administration filed a brief that proposes eliminating third-party standing for providers. Additionally, in the 2016 Whole Woman’s Health case, conservative Justice Clarence Thomas made a direct argument against third-party standing for abortion providers in his dissent.
If the court does dismantle third-party standing all-together, the impact could sweep the entire judiciary system, as many of the cases currently being fought in the courts by clinics—in Alabama, Missouri, Georgia, and elsewhere—may become moot or have to be refiled, says Stephen Wermiel, a constitutional law professor at American University Washington College of Law. While their exact futures would depend on how narrow or broad the court makes its final ruling, there would, without a doubt, be a “destabilizing effect,” says Tu.
If the court eliminates third-party standing for abortion providers, many women and abortion rights supporters may not even know there’s been a change. Dismantling abortion rights by attacking an obscure legal principle could result in less pushback than has occurred in states that are passing outright bans on early-term abortions. “Once [abortion opponents] passed the six-week bans, the public really turned against them,” says Leila Abolfazli, who leads the reproductive rights program at the National Women’s Law Center. “People were protesting in the middle of the street in Alabama, in the middle of the week. [Anti-abortion advocates] get that.”
Even if the legal principle at issue is opaque, the stakes of the case are high. “It is almost as much of a threat to the right to abortion,” says Tu, “as reversing Roe v. Wade.”