This week, the Republican Party has accomplished something difficult: It made itself stupider. It subtracted from its already shallow reservoir of intelligence by moving to purge two fine senators. And its embodiment authored a novel grift.
If what is probably predictable does happen, the two senators will be replaced on this autumn’s ballots by persons who, if elected (the one in Louisiana almost certainly will be), can be counted on to be exactly what no senator should be: another of the president’s congressional sock puppets, promising, as a high principle, not to think independently.
Sen. Bill Cassidy of Louisiana lost in a primary the rules of which were changed — it was closed to all but Republicans — for the purpose of defeating him. His scarlet sin was to have believed that Donald Trump’s urging a mob to stop Congress from certifying the results of a presidential election constituted an impeachable offense. Cassidy’s departure will subtract most of the Senate membership interested in responding to the approaching crisis of Social Security funding. Cassidy’s genuine sin — casting the decisive vote that put an amateur quack (Robert F. Kennedy Jr.) at the pinnacle of the public health system — probably pleased the yahoos who wanted Cassidy gone.
He will be replaced by a Republican whose identity does not matter: He or she will win because voters are pleased to assume he or she will be a cipher, vigorously subservient to Trump. Certainly Ken Paxton will be such if he is elected senator from Texas.
Boosted by Trump’s endorsement this week, Paxton, the state’s lowlife attorney general, probably will win his May 26 primary runoff challenge to John Cornyn, the incumbent. Cornyn, a former state Supreme Court justice, has consistently supported Trump’s agenda. But Trump surely, and correctly, sees in Paxton a kindred spirit.
Eleven months ago, this column imprecisely said Paxton has “a checkered past.” Actually, his past is as unrelievedly dark as pitch.
He is a pinup of religious “conservatives” who disregard his lurid personal life. And they are perhaps reminded of Jesus’ miraculous multiplication of loaves and fishes when they contemplate Paxton’s amazing ability to enlarge his multimillion-dollar portfolio of properties across the country while drawing a public official’s salary.
Paxton’s next miracle might be to enable Texas Democrats to elect their first U.S. senator since 1988. If, however, Paxton wins, he will find Trump’s Washington a congenial habitat. This week, when Trump affirmed his kinship with Paxton by endorsing him, Trump provided redundant evidence of their similarity.
There is a sort of artistry, akin to the shenanigans used to cook Enron’s books, in Trump’s attempt to fleece taxpayers for a $1.776 billion (get it? this is patriotic) slush fund to be doled out by his friends to his accomplices. The doling will be done by a board appointed by the attorney general, who serves at the president’s pleasure. Trump can fire the board members for any reason. And the fund will disappear immediately after the 2028 election. Here is how this came about:
In 2017-18, a progressive working inside the IRS (he subsequently went inside a prison), was eager to dramatize “inequality.” He committed the crime of releasing the tax returns of some wealthy people, including Trump. In January, Trump sued the IRS (the head of which serves at the pleasure of the president) for $10 billion. This was a prelude to this week’s “compromise.”
Trump — essentially negotiating with himself, sitting on both sides of the table — agreed to drop this suit. In exchange, the Justice Department (its head serves at Trump’s pleasure) agreed to create the $1.776 billion fund to compensate government “lawfare” victims.
The money will presumably come from the Judgment Fund controlled by the Justice Department. It is for settling lawsuits against the United States. Who exactly is going to be suing whom about what, exactly? The Republican-controlled Congress might have questions concerning … oh, never mind.
Purging senators while complaining about “lawfare” but punishing law firms he dislikes (canceling their federal contracts, and their lawyers’ security clearances, and barring them from federal buildings): Sophists devoted to obfuscating the obvious will insist that Trump, not the Republican Party, is doing all this. But sentient people know it is a distinction without a difference.
The party was founded in 1854. For a decade now, it has been a passive emanation of the current president. The obedience to him by almost the entirety of the party’s elected officials is either canine devotion, or toadyism in the service of careerism. It hardly matters which.