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Donald Trump’s Dog Whistles Are Unmistakable

The Atlantic

www.theatlantic.com › politics › archive › 2024 › 10 › trump-attacks-atlantics-jeffrey-goldberg-over-hitler › 680422

When someone attacks the messenger rather than the message, they’re usually revealing something.

Friday night in Austin, Texas, the Republican presidential nominee, Donald Trump, fiercely criticized The Atlantic’s editor in chief, Jeffrey Goldberg, over a recent report about Trump’s troubling attitude toward the military, which he believes should be loyal to him personally. As Goldberg reports, Trump said, “I need the kind of generals that Hitler had,” which is both chilling and historically illiterate.

[Read: Trump: ‘I need the kind of generals Hitler had’]

Trump called The Atlantic “a failing magazine run by a guy named Goldberg.” He added that “they were the ones that made up the story about me saying bad things about this, about the soldiers.” That’s a reference to another article that Goldberg published, in September 2020, reporting that then-President Trump had called Americans who died in wars “suckers” and “losers.” Trump’s attack is factually wrong on nearly every count, but it’s still a useful demonstration of Trump’s political methods and aims.

First, some housekeeping: Trump’s own former staffers have confirmed the “suckers” and “losers” reporting on the record. The Atlantic is thriving both journalistically—it has won the magazine industry’s top award three years running—and as a business, attaining profitability this year with more than 1 million subscribers. Nearly the only thing that Trump got right was Goldberg’s name. As in past instances, he emphasized the name in a way that reeked of anti-Semitism. Trump likes to deny allegations of anti-Semitism by pointing to his Jewish family members, but he has a long history of crude, stereotypical remarks about Jews, and in this election he has repeatedly attacked American Jews for not supporting him, saying they will be to blame if he loses.

[Read: Trump: Americans who died in war are ‘suckers’ and ‘losers’]

Trump is attacking the messenger here because he can’t really attack the message. He denies making the remarks, but a pile of other evidence backs up the report. Goldberg’s recent story was closely followed by a New York Times story in which John Kelly, a retired general who served as Trump’s chief of staff, described Trump’s obsession with personal loyalty and desire to use the military against domestic critics. Thirteen other former Trump-administration officials signed a letter backing these accounts up. “President Trump used the terms suckers and losers to describe soldiers who gave their lives in the defense of our country,” Kelly recently told Goldberg. “There are many, many people who have heard him say these things.” Besides, Trump has said himself that he wants to use the military domestically, and he’s disrespected fallen soldiers by trying to use Arlington National Cemetery as a cheap campaign prop.

He’s also employed this kind of attempted bullying before. Four years ago, Trump denied Goldberg’s story about “suckers” and “losers,” but other reporters quickly duplicated the reporting, including Jennifer Griffin of Fox News. Trump quickly (though unsuccessfully) demanded that Fox fire her. The former president has also sporadically railed at Goldberg and The Atlantic since 2020.

[Read: Why Trump’s Arlington debacle is so serious]

Although Trump’s attacks on the press are not new, they have escalated in recent weeks. Trump has said that CBS should lose its broadcast license over a 60 Minutes interview with Vice President Kamala Harris, his Democratic opponent. He has pressured Fox News to stop airing ads that are critical of him. He has threatened Google for showing negative stories about him. He has previously vowed to jail reporters.

The point here is not to plead for pity for the poor press. Courageous reporting is courageous because it puts journalists in conflict with powerful people. Anyone who expects adulation all the time should go into a different business. (This also goes for any media owner who might feel tempted to tone down criticism of Trump.)

[Read: The Trump believability gap]

But voters need to understand why Trump is attacking the press, and where it will lead if he is reelected. The future of American democracy is the key question of this election. Trump has left an ample record showing that he is committed neither to the rule of law nor to rule by the people—after all, he tried to steal the last presidential election after he lost it. But many Americans seem to have forgotten what Trump’s presidency was like, or they simply don’t believe that he’ll do the things that he keeps saying, loudly and publicly, that he’ll do.

Stories like Goldberg’s are an impediment to Trump’s return to power because they are vivid depictions of what Trump believes and how he acts. In a country with a free press, voters can hear these things. American voters should carefully listen to what Trump says and know what he has done—and they should have no illusions about the fact that if he wins, Trump will try to make the press less free.

Elon Musk Is a New Kind of Political Donor

The Atlantic

www.theatlantic.com › newsletters › archive › 2024 › 10 › elon-musk-is-a-new-kind-of-political-donor › 680364

This is an edition of The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here.

Over the past three months, Elon Musk has mobilized his many resources—his exceptional wealth, far-reaching online platform, and time—for a cause that could have profound effects on his personal fortune and American society: electing Donald Trump.

Musk is going all in: In addition to donating $75 million to America PAC, a group he founded that backs Trump, he has also temporarily relocated to the all-important swing state of Pennsylvania to effectively run Trump’s get-out-the-vote strategy from a war room he set up in Pittsburgh. He has stumped on the trail, hosting a Trump town hall in the auditorium of a Pennsylvania high school last week and telling locals to go “hog wild” on voter registration. And, in his latest stunt, he has offered $1 million a day to registered voters in swing states who sign an America PAC petition backing the First and Second Amendments—a move that the Justice Department reportedly said might be breaking election laws. His efforts may prove consequential: As my colleague Franklin Foer wrote this past weekend, “If Trump wins, it will likely be by a narrow margin that can be attributed to turnout. Musk can tout himself as the single variable of success.”

Musk is far from the only major donor in this race. Bill Gates has reportedly given $50 million to Vice President Kamala Harris’s campaign, and various billionaires publicly support Harris or Trump. What distinguishes Musk though, beyond his on-the-ground efforts, is his ownership of X. He can spread information (and disinformation) with ease, and stifle views he doesn’t like, Sophia Rosenfeld, a historian at the University of Pennsylvania, told me in an email. Media owners have always been influential in American politics (Rupert Murdoch, for example, played a prominent role in past elections through his leadership of Fox News). But Rosenfeld noted that Musk’s particular combination of wealth and media control is “unprecedented.”

Musk’s audience is massive on X: His posts, many of which have amplified false and inflammatory rhetoric, get billions of views. Over the weekend he boosted the baseless claim that Michigan had more registered voters than eligible citizens. After Michigan Secretary of State Jocelyn Benson said that wasn’t true—and that Musk was spreading “dangerous disinformation”—Musk doubled down and accused her of lying to the public. This disinformation had a swift real-world impact: Benson told CBS that her team received harassing messages and threats after Musk’s post. Such rhetoric has the potential to warp how much voters trust election processes. Musk’s America PAC has also been urging people to report examples of “voter fraud” through what it calls the Election Integrity Community on X. Though such fraud remains exceptionally rare, his efforts could further sow distrust in election integrity and lay the groundwork for future claims of a stolen race. (America PAC did not immediately respond to my request for comment.) So prominent is Musk’s role in the MAGA movement that Minnesota Governor Tim Walz joked archly at a recent rally: “I’m going to talk about [Trump’s] running mate …. Elon Musk.”

Musk wasn’t always aligned, at least in public, with such zealotry. He reportedly said that Trump was a “stone-cold loser” in 2020, and he supported Barack Obama in 2008 and 2012. Still, as my colleague Charlie Warzel told me last month, Musk’s feelings of being aggrieved and attacked escalated when he faced pushback from liberals after his Twitter takeover; soon after, he began using X as a megaphone for MAGA. And, though his Trump endorsement seemed out of step with his long-standing image as a climate innovator, it is consistent with his rightward drift: Over the past few years, he has reportedly been quietly donating to Republican causes and candidates, including giving $10 million to Florida Governor Ron DeSantis last year for his ill-fated primary run.

The wealthy have long played an outsize role in politics—but Musk, as he so often does, is venturing to new extremes. If Trump wins, Musk’s gamble may pay off handsomely: In addition to a promised role in Trump’s government, he is poised to receive epic government contracts for his companies. But even if Trump doesn’t win, Musk could set a precedent for uber-rich donors getting more directly involved with political campaigns; that could intensify the “oligarchic side of modern American democracy,” Rosenfeld warned. Though Musk’s hands-on, incendiary campaigning methods are chaotic—and possibly illegal—his efforts during this election may pioneer a model for other megadonors looking to reshape a race.

Related:

What Elon Musk really wants Elon Musk has reached a new low.

Here are three new stories from The Atlantic:

If Trump loses, will his supporters believe it? Are you a Platonist or an Aristotelian? Michel Houellebecq has some fresh predictions. Be afraid.

Today’s News

Secretary of State Antony Blinken said that U.S. and Israeli negotiators will travel to Qatar in the coming days for Gaza cease-fire talks. Former President Barack Obama joined Kamala Harris at a rally in Atlanta tonight. A Los Angeles prosecutor is recommending the resentencing of Erik and Lyle Menendez, who were convicted in 1996 for the murder of their parents, after new evidence surfaced suggesting that their father sexually abused them.

Dispatches

The Weekly Planet: Cheap solar panels are changing the world, Zoë Schlanger writes. Time-Travel Thursdays: The myths that fueled marijuana’s criminalization have deep roots, Malcolm Ferguson writes.

Explore all of our newsletters here.

Evening Read

Illustration by Paul Spella / The Atlantic. Source: Getty.

Ratpocalypse Now

By Annie Lowrey

Has any man in history talked about “how much he hates rats” more than New York City Mayor Eric Adams? Adams himself posed that question at the city’s inaugural National Urban Rat Summit last month. “Let’s figure out how we unify against public enemy number one: Mickey and his crew.”

Mickey is, canonically, a mouse. But Adams’s campaign against the city’s endemic brown-rat population might be the most effective and highest-profile initiative of his scandal-ridden mayoralty.

Read the full article.

More From The Atlantic

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Watch. Settle in with one of these 26 movies that critics were wrong about.

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Stephanie Bai contributed to this newsletter.

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Kamala Harris’s Closing Argument

The Atlantic

www.theatlantic.com › politics › archive › 2024 › 10 › kamala-harris-presidential-election › 680287

Kamala Harris’s fate in the remaining weeks of the presidential campaign may turn on whether she can shift the attention of enough voters back to what they might fear from a potential second White House term for Donald Trump.

Since replacing President Joe Biden as the Democratic nominee this summer, Harris has focused her campaign message above all on reassuring voters that she has the experience and values to serve in the Oval Office. But a consensus is growing among Democratic political professionals that Harris is failing to deliver a sufficiently urgent warning about the risk Trump could pose to American society and democracy in another presidential term.

“Reassurance ain’t gonna be what wins the race,” the Democratic pollster Paul Maslin told me—an assessment almost universally shared among the wide array of Democratic strategists and operatives I’ve spoken with in recent days. “What wins the race is the line from the convention: We ain’t going back. We aren’t going to live with this insanity again. It has to be more personal, on him: The man presents risks that this country cannot afford to take.”

Harris aides insist that she and the campaign have never lost sight of the need to keep making voters aware of the dangers inherent in her opponent’s agenda. But she appears now to be recalibrating the balance in her messaging between reassurance and risk.

At a rally in Erie, Pennsylvania, on Monday night, Harris had a video clip play of some of Trump’s most extreme declarations—including his insistence in a Fox interview on Sunday that he would use the National Guard or the U.S. military against what he called “the enemy from within.” Then, in stark language, she warned: “Donald Trump is increasingly unstable and unhinged, and he is out for unchecked power.” In her combative interview on Fox News last night, Harris again expressed outrage about Trump’s indication that he would use the military against “the enemy from within,” accurately pushing back against Bret Baier and the network for sanitizing a clip of Trump’s reaffirmation of that threat at a Fox town-hall broadcast earlier in the day.

Many Democratic strategists believe that the party has performed best in the Trump era when it has successfully kept the voters in its coalition focused on the risks he presents to their rights and values—and his latest threat to use the military against protesters is exactly one such risk to them. Using data from the Democratic targeting firm Catalist, the Democratic strategist Michael Podhorzer has calculated that about 91 million different people have come out in the four elections since 2016 to vote against Trump or Republicans, considerably more than the 83 million who have come out to vote for him or GOP candidates. To Podhorzer, the vital question as Election Day looms is whether the infrequent voters in this “anti-MAGA majority” will feel enough sense of urgency to turn out again.

“The reason [the race] is as close as it is right now is because there’s just not enough alarm in the electorate about a second Trump term,” Podhorzer, who was formerly the political director of the AFL-CIO, told me, “and that’s what is most alarming to me.”

Harris is pivoting toward a sharper message about Trump at a moment when his campaign appears to have seized the initiative in the battleground states with his withering and unrelenting attacks on her. National polls remain mostly encouraging for Harris; several of them showed a slight tick upward in her support this week. But Republicans believe that after a weeks-long barrage of ads portraying Harris as weak on crime and immigration and extreme on transgender rights, swing voters in these decisive states are inclined to see her, rather than Trump, as the greater risk in the White House.

Although Harris is describing Trump as “unstable,” Jim McLaughlin, a pollster for his campaign, says that at this point more voters see him, over her, as a potential source of stability amid concerns that inflation, crime, the southern border, and international relations have at times seemed out of control under Biden. “They think [Trump] is the one who will give us that peace and prosperity they look for in a president,” McLaughlin told me. “They want somebody who is going to take charge and solve their problems, and that’s what Donald Trump is really good at.”

Democrats are not worried that large numbers of voters outside Trump’s base will ever see him as a source of stability. But they acknowledge that the Republican ad fusillade—particularly the messages about Harris’s support, during her 2019 presidential campaign, for gender-conforming surgery for prisoners—has caused some swing-state voters to focus more on their worries about her (that she’s too liberal or inexperienced) than their fears about Trump (that he’s too erratic, belligerent, or threatening to the rule of law).

The clearest measure that voters’ concerns about a second Trump presidency are receding may be their improving assessments of his first term. A Wall Street Journal poll conducted by a bipartisan polling team and released late last week found that Trump’s retrospective job-approval rating had reached 50 percent or higher in six of the seven battleground states, and stood at 48 percent in the seventh, Arizona.

An NBC poll released on Sunday, which was conducted by another bipartisan polling team, found that 48 percent of voters nationwide now retrospectively approve of Trump’s performance as president; that rating was higher than the same survey ever recorded for Trump while he was in office. A Marquette Law School national poll released yesterday similarly showed his retrospective job approval reaching 50 percent. (Trump was famously the only president in the history of Gallup polling whose approval rating never reached 50 percent during his tenure.)

Views about Trump’s first term are improving, pollsters in both parties say, because voters are mostly measuring him against what they like least about Biden’s presidency, primarily inflation and years of disorder on the southern border (though it has notably calmed in recent months). “Trump’s retrospective job rating is higher because of the contrast with Biden,” Bill McInturff, a longtime Republican pollster who worked on the NBC survey, told me. “Majorities say the Biden administration has been a failure. A plurality say Biden’s policies hurt them and their families, while Trump’s policies helped them.”

Harris could still win despite voters becoming more bullish about Trump’s first term, but it won’t be easy: The NBC poll found that, in every major demographic group, the share of voters supporting Trump against Harris almost exactly equals the share that now approves of his performance as president.

Because of the unusual circumstances in which Harris secured her party’s nomination, voters probably knew less about her at that advanced stage in the presidential campaign season than they did about any major-party nominee since Republicans plucked the little-known business executive Wendell Willkie to run against Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1940. Few political professionals dispute that her late entry required her campaign to devote much of its initial effort to introducing her to voters.

In her speeches, media appearances, and advertising, Harris has placed most emphasis on convincing voters that she is qualified to serve as president, tough enough on crime and the border to keep them safe, committed to supporting the middle class because she comes from it, and determined to govern in a centrist, bipartisan fashion. This sustained effort has yielded important political dividends for her in a very short period. Polls have consistently showed that the share of Americans with a favorable view of her has significantly increased since she replaced Biden as the nominee. Harris has gained on other important personal measures as well. A recent national Gallup poll found that she has drawn level with Trump on the qualities of displaying good judgment in a crisis and managing the government effectively. Gallup also found that she has outstripped him on moral character, honesty, likability, and caring about voters’ needs.

The question more Democrats are asking is whether Harris has squeezed as much advantage as she can out of this positive messaging about her own qualifications. That question seemed especially acute after she raced through a swarm of media interviews earlier this month, appearing on podcasts aimed at young women and Black men, as well as on The View, 60 Minutes, CBS’s The Late Show With Stephen Colbert, and a Univision town hall.

Across those interviews, Harris seemed determined to establish her personal “relatability,” demonstrating to voters, especially women, that she had lived through experiences similar to their own and understood what it would take to improve their lives. But she offered no sense of heightened alarm about what a second Trump term could mean for each of the constituencies that her appearances targeted.

One Democratic strategist, who is closely watching the campaign’s deliberations and requested anonymity to speak freely, worries that Harris has not been airing a direct response to Trump’s brutal ad attacking her position on transgender rights, or pressing the case against him aggressively enough on what a second Trump term might mean. “We’ve been trying to fight this negative onslaught with these positive ads,” this strategist told me. “We’re bringing the proverbial squirt gun to the firefight here in terms of how we are dealing with the most vicious negative ad campaign in presidential history.”

Harris’s emphasis on reassurance has also shaped how she’s approached the policy debate with Trump. Her determination to display toughness on the border has, as I’ve written, discouraged her from challenging Trump on arguably the most extreme proposal of his entire campaign: his plan for the mass deportation of an estimated 11 million undocumented immigrants.

Likewise, her determination to stress her tough-on-crime credentials has apparently discouraged her from challenging another of Trump’s most draconian plans: his pledge to require every U.S. police department to implement so-called stop-and-frisk policies as a condition of receiving federal law-enforcement aid. In New York City, that policy was eventually declared unconstitutional because it resulted in police stopping many young Black and Latino men without cause. Yet, for weeks, Harris never mentioned Trump’s proposal, even in appearances aimed at Black audiences.

“For low-propensity Black voters, Donald Trump’s just atrocious policy proposals for the civil rights agenda and policing is one of the main motivators that moves them toward the Democrats,” Alvin Tillery, a Northwestern University professor who founded a PAC targeting Black swing voters, told me. “Forget Bidenomics, forget all the kind of race-neutral things she is trotting out today. Mentoring for Black men? Really? That is not going to move a 21-year-old guy that works at Target who is thinking about staying home or voting for her to get off the couch.” Tillery’s PAC, the Alliance for Black Equality, is running digital ads showing young Black men and women lamenting the impact that stop-and-frisk could have on them, but he’s operating on a shoestring budget.

More broadly, some Democrats worry that Harris’s priority on attracting Republican-leaning voters cool to Trump has somewhat dulled her messages about the threat posed by the Trump-era GOP. Harris has repeatedly offered outreach and reassurance to GOP-leaning voters, by promising, for example, to put a Republican in her Cabinet and establish a policy advisory council that will include Republicans. (She held another rally in the Philadelphia suburbs yesterday to tout her Republican support.) That could help her win more of the Nikki Haley–type suburban moderates—but at the price of diluting the sense of threat necessary to motivate irregular anti-Trump voters to turn out.

“I do think some sacrifices have been made in the spirit of trying to win over a certain segment of voter, who is a Republican,” Jenifer Fernandez Ancona, a senior vice president at Way to Win, a group that provides funding for candidates and organizations focused on mobilizing minority voters, told me.

The Republican pollster Greg Strimple told me that last month’s presidential debate hurt Trump so much not only because Harris was strong, but also because his scattered and belligerent performance reminded voters of everything they didn’t like about him in office. “Now it feels to me like her momentum is gone, and Trump is steadily advancing, almost like the Russian army, in the center of the electorate,” Strimple told me. “I don’t know how she can muster enough throw weight behind her message in order to change that dynamic right now.”

Even among the most anxious Democrats I spoke with, hardly anyone believes that Harris’s situation is so dire or settled. They were widely confident that she possesses a superior get-out-the-vote operation that can lift her at the margin in the pivotal battlegrounds, particularly Michigan, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin.

Still, Harris this week seemed to acknowledge that she needs to sharpen her message about Trump. In an interview with the radio host Roland Martin, she forcefully denounced Trump’s long record of bigoted behavior. With Charlamagne tha God, Harris came out of the gate criticizing Trump’s stop-and-frisk mandate more forcefully than I’ve heard before, and condemning the former president for, as Bob Woodward reported in a new book, sending COVID-19 test kits to Vladimir Putin “when Black people were dying every day by the hundreds during that time.” Later, she agreed with the host when he described Trump’s language and behavior as fascist, a line she had not previously crossed.

Harris’s campaign also rolled out a new ad that also highlighted his comments about deploying the military against the “enemy from within,” and featured Olivia Troye, an aide in his administration, speaking on camera about how he’d discussed shooting American citizens participating in protests when he was president.

McLaughlin, the Trump pollster, says a big obstacle for Democrats trying to stoke fears of returning him to the White House is that voters have such an immediate point of comparison between their economic experiences in his tenure and Biden’s. Democrats “can try” to present another Trump term as too risky, but to voters, “what is it going to mean?” McLaughlin said. “I’m going to be able to afford a house because, instead of 8 percent mortgage rates, I’m going to have less than 3 percent? I’m going to have a secure border?”

Like many Democratic strategists, Fernandez Ancona believes that enough voters can be persuaded to look beyond their memories of cheaper groceries and gas to reject all the other implications of another Trump presidency. That dynamic, she points out, isn’t theoretical: It’s exactly what happened in 2022, when Democrats ran unexpectedly well, especially in the swing states, despite widespread economic dissatisfaction.

“If the question in 2022 was: Do you like the Biden administration and the state of the economy? We lose,” she told me. “But that wasn’t the question people were responding to. They were responding to: Your freedoms are at stake, do you want to protect your freedoms or do you want them taken away?”

Democratic voters are understandably dumbfounded that Trump could remain this competitive after the January 6 insurrection; his felony indictments and convictions; the civil judgments against him for sexual abuse and financial fraud; the strange lapses in memory, desultory tangents, and episodes of confusion at rallies; and his embrace of more openly racist, xenophobic, and authoritarian language. Yet nearly as remarkable may be that Harris is this competitive when so many more voters consistently say in polls that they were helped more by the policies of the Trump administration than those of the Biden administration in which she has served.

The definitive question in the final stretch of this painfully close campaign may be which of those offsetting vulnerabilities looms larger for the final few voters deciding between Harris and Trump or deciding whether to vote at all. Nothing may be more important for Harris in the remaining days than convincing voters who are disappointed with the past four years of Biden’s tenure that returning Trump to power poses risks the country should not take. As a former prosecutor, Harris more than most candidates should understand the importance of a compelling closing argument.

The Man Who’s Sure That Harris Will Win

The Atlantic

www.theatlantic.com › ideas › archive › 2024 › 10 › allan-lichtman-election-win › 680258

If you follow politics, you can hardly escape Allan Lichtman, the American University history professor known for correctly forecasting the victor of all but one presidential election since 1984. In a whimsical New York Times video published over the summer, the 77-year-old competes in a Senior Olympics qualifying race—and confidently declares that Kamala Harris will win the race (get it?) for the White House. You might also have recently seen Lichtman on cable news, heard him on the radio, or read an interview with him.

In an era of statistically complex, probabilistic election models, Lichtman is a throwback. He bases his predictions not on polls, but rather on the answers to a set of 13 true-or-false questions, which he calls “keys,” and which in 2016 signaled a Trump victory when the polls said otherwise. He has little patience for data crunchers who lack his academic credentials. “The issue with @NateSilver538 is he’s a compiler of polls, a clerk,” Lichtman posted on X in July, as part of a long-running spat with the prominent election modeler. “He has no fundamental basis in history and elections.”

Lichtman’s complaint isn’t just with polls and the nerds who love them. In his view, almost everything that the media and political establishment pay attention to—such as campaigns, candidate quality, debates, and ideological positions—is irrelevant to the outcome. An election is a referendum on the incumbent party’s track record. “The study of history,” he writes in his book Predicting the Next President, “shows that a pragmatic American electorate chooses a president according to the performance of the party holding the White House, as measured by the consequential events and episodes of a term.”

[Anne Applebaum: The danger of believing that you are powerless]

According to Lichtman, the standard account of how presidential campaigns work is a harmful fiction. “The media, the candidates, the pollsters, and the consultants,” Lichtman writes, “are complicit in the idea that elections are exercises in manipulating voters,” which stymies political reform and meaningful policy debate. That argument contains a touch of the conspiratorial, but there’s a big difference between Lichtman’s worldview and a conspiracy theory: His predictions actually come true. If Lichtman is wrong about how elections work, how can he be so good at foretelling their outcomes?

One possible answer is that, in fact, he isn’t.

Lichtman developed his method in 1981 in collaboration with Vladimir Keilis-Borok, a Russian mathematical geophysicist. Lichtman had a hunch, he told me, that “it was the performance and strength of the White House Party that turned elections.” He and Keilis-Borok analyzed every election from 1860 to 1980; the hunch bore out.

Each of the 13 keys can be defined as a true-or-false statement. If eight or more of them are true, the incumbent-party candidate will win; seven or fewer, and they will lose. Here they are, as spelled out in Predicting the Next President:

1. Incumbent-party mandate: After the midterm elections, the incumbent party holds more seats in the U.S. House of Representatives than it did after the previous midterm elections.

2. Nomination contest: There is no serious contest for the incumbent-party nomination.

3. Incumbency: The incumbent-party candidate is the sitting president.

4. Third party: There is no significant third-party or independent campaign.

5. Short-term economy: The economy is not in recession during the election campaign.

6. Long-term economy: Real annual per capita economic growth during the term equals or exceeds mean growth during the two previous terms.

7. Policy change: The incumbent administration effects major changes in national policy.

8. Social unrest: There is no sustained social unrest during the term.

9. Scandal: The incumbent administration is untainted by major scandal.

10. Foreign or military failure: The incumbent administration suffers no major failure in foreign or military affairs.

11. Foreign or military success: The incumbent administration achieves a major success in foreign or military affairs.

12. Incumbent charisma: The incumbent-party candidate is charismatic or a national hero.

13. Challenger charisma: The challenging-party candidate is not charismatic or a national hero.

Lichtman says that keys 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 13 are true this year: just enough to assure a Harris victory.

Although some of the keys sound extremely subjective, Lichtman insists that they are not subjective at all—assessing them simply requires the kind of judgments that historians are trained to make. The charisma key, for example, doesn’t depend on your gut feeling about a candidate. “We are talking about the once-in-a-generation, across-the-board, inspirational, truly transformational candidates, like Franklin Roosevelt or Ronald Reagan,” he told me.

I can attest that applying the keys is challenging for those of us without a history Ph.D. The keys must be “turned” consistently from election to election without regard to polls, but in practice seem to be influenced by fluctuating public-opinion data. The Democratic nominee in 2008, Barack Obama, qualified as charismatic, but the 2012 nominee, who was also Barack Obama, did not, because of his diminished approval ratings. The “third-party challenger” key cuts against the incumbent if a third-party candidate is likely to get 5 percent of the vote—but this is only knowable through horse-race polling, which we’re supposed to ignore, or after the fact, in which case it’s not a prediction.

Lichtman insists that voters don’t change their minds in response to what the candidates say or do during the course of a campaign. This leads him to make some deeply counterintuitive claims. He has written that George H. W. Bush’s attacks on Michael Dukakis in 1988—which included the infamous Willie Horton ad—accomplished nothing, and actually hurt Bush’s subsequent ability to govern, because he already had enough keys to win and should have been focused on his policy agenda. He implies that JFK, who edged out Richard Nixon by less than two-tenths of a percentage point in 1960, would have won even if he had had the personality of, say, his nephew Robert, because he had eight keys in his favor in addition to charisma. And this past summer, Lichtman told anyone who would listen that Joe Biden should stay in the race, despite his difficulty completing a sentence, because replacing him on the ticket would mean the loss of the incumbency key. If Democrats persuaded Biden to drop out, he wrote in a July 3 op-ed, “they would almost surely doom their party to defeat and reelect Donald Trump.” (He changed his mind once it became clear that no one would challenge Harris for the nomination, thus handing her key 2.)

Arguments such as these are hard to accept, because they require believing that Lichtman’s “pragmatic electorate” places no stock in ideological positions or revelations about character and temperament. Lichtman is unperturbed by such objections, however. All arguments against the keys fail because they suggest that the keys are in some way wrong, which they plainly are not. Lichtman has written, for example, that the infamous “Comey letter” did not tip the 2016 election to Trump, as poll-focused analysts such as Nate Silver have “incorrectly claimed.” How does Lichtman know the claim is incorrect? Because the keys already predicted a Trump victory. The proof is in the fact that the system works. This raises the question of whether it actually does.

Going nine for 10 on presidential predictions is not as hard as it sounds. Only four of the past 10 elections were particularly close. Most campaign years, you can just look at the polls. Lichtman predicted a Biden victory in 2020, for example, but you probably did too.

To his credit, Lichtman has made many accurate calls, in some cases well before polls showed the eventual victor in the lead. Even in 2000, the election that he is generally considered to have gotten wrong, the system worked as advertised. As he explains in Predicting the Next President, the keys “predict only the national popular vote and not the vote within individual states.” (Lichtman has devoted considerable energy to proving that the election was stolen in Florida by the GOP, and that he has thus really gone 10 for 10.)

Lichtman’s most celebrated feat of foresight by far, the gutsy call that supposedly sets his keys apart from mere polls, was his 2016 prediction. Calling the race for Trump when the polls pointed the other way was reputationally risky. After Lichtman was vindicated, he was showered with praise and received a personal note of congratulations from Trump himself. “Authorities in the field recognized my nearly unique successful prediction of a Trump victory,” Lichtman told me in an email. He quoted the assessment of the political scientist Gerald M. Pomper: “In 2016, nine of eleven major studies predicted Clinton’s lead in the national popular vote. However, by neglecting the Electoral College and variations among the state votes, they generally failed to predict Trump’s victory. One scholar did continue his perfect record of election predictions, using simpler evaluations of the historical setting (Lichtman 2016).”

Oddly, no one seems to have noticed at the time what seems in hindsight like an obvious problem. By Lichtman’s own account, the keys predict the popular-vote winner, not the state-by-state results. But Trump lost the popular vote by two percentage points, eking out an Electoral College victory by fewer than 80,000 votes in three swing states.

Lichtman has subsequently addressed the apparent discrepancy. “In 2016, I made the first modification of the keys system since its inception in 1981,” he writes in the most recent edition of Predicting the Next President. In “my final forecast for 2016, I predicted the winner of the presidency, e.g., the Electoral College, rather than the popular vote winner.” He did this, he writes, because of the divergence of the Electoral College results from the popular vote: “In any close election, Democrats will win the popular vote but not necessarily the Electoral College.”

[Peter Wehner: This election is different]

But the gap that Lichtman describes did not become apparent until the results of the 2016 election were known. In 2008 and 2012, the Electoral College actually gave a slight advantage to Obama, and until 2016, the difference between the margin in the popular vote and in the Electoral College tipping state was typically small. Why would Lichtman have changed his methodology to account for a change that hadn’t happened yet?

Odder still is the fact that Lichtman waited to announce his new methodology until well after the election in which he says he deployed it. According to an investigation published this summer by the journalists Lars Emerson and Michael Lovito for their website, The Postrider, no record exists of Lichtman mentioning the modification before the fact. In their estimation, “he appears to have retroactively changed” the predictive model “as a means of preserving his dubious 10 for 10 streak.”

This is a sore subject for Lichtman. Whether he got 2016 totally right or merely sort of right might seem like a quibble; surely he was closer to the mark than most experts. But a forecaster who changes his methodology after the fact has no credibility. When I brought the matter up with Lichtman in a Zoom interview, he became angry. “Let me tell you: It steams me,” he said, his voice rising. “I dispute this, you know, When did you stop beating your wife? kind of question.”

Lichtman directed me to an interview he gave The Washington Post in September 2016. (When I tried to interject that I had read the article, he cut me off and threatened to end the interview.) There and elsewhere, Lichtman said, he clearly stated that Trump would win the election. Trump did win the election, ergo, the prediction was accurate. Nowhere did he say anything about the popular vote.

Later that evening, Lichtman sent me a follow-up email with the subject line “2016.” In it, he described Emerson and Lovito as “two unknown journalists with no qualifications in history or political science.” As for their claims, he pointed once again to the Washington Post interview, and also to an article in the October 2016 issue of the academic journal Social Education, in which he published his final prediction.

Here is what Lichtman wrote in the Social Education article: “As a national system, the Keys predict the popular vote, not the state-by-state tally of Electoral College votes. However, only once in the last 125 years has the Electoral College vote diverged from the popular vote.”

This seemed pretty cut-and-dried. I replied to Lichtman’s email asking him to explain. “Yes, I was not as clear as I could have been in that article,” he responded. “However, I could not have been clearer in my Washington Post prediction and subsequent Fox News and CBS interviews, all of which came after I wrote the article.” In those interviews, he said nothing about the popular vote or the Electoral College.

I got another email from Lichtman, with the subject line “Postriders,” later that night. “Here is more information on the two failed journalists who have tried to make a name for themselves on my back,” Lichtman wrote. Attached to the email was a Word document, a kind of opposition-research memo, laying out the case against Lovito and Emerson: “They post a blog—The Postrider—that has failed to gain any traction as documented below. They are not qualified to comment on the Keys, the polls, or any aspect of election prediction.” The document then went through some social-media numbers. Lichtman has 12,000 followers on Facebook; The Postrider has only 215, and the articles get no engagement. One hundred thousand followers for Lichtman on X; a few hundred for Emerson and Lovito.

[Gilad Edelman: The asterisk on Kamala Harris’s poll numbers]

I ran these criticisms by Emerson and Lovito, who were already familiar with Lichtman’s theory of the case. After they published their article, he emailed them, cc’ing his lawyer and American University’s general counsel, accusing them of defamation.

To the charge of being less famous than Lichtman, they pled guilty. “It’s true that a public intellectual who has been publishing books since the late 1970s and is interviewed every four years by major media outlets has a larger following than us, yes,” they wrote in an email. “But we fail to see what relevance that has to our work.” Regarding their qualifications, they pointed out that they each have a bachelor’s degree in political science from American University, where Lichtman teaches. (Emerson is a current student at American’s law school.) “As for this story on the Keys, we spent months reading and reviewing Professor Lichtman’s books, academic papers, and interviews regarding the Keys. If we are not qualified to comment at that point, he should reconsider how he publicly communicates about his work.”

In a December 2016 year-in-review article, the journalist Chris Cillizza looked back on the stories that had generated the most interest for his Washington Post politics blog, The Fix. “The answer this year? Allan Lichtman. Allan Lichtman. Allan Lichtman … Of the 10 most trafficked posts on The Fix in 2016, four involved Lichtman and his unorthodox predictions,” Cillizza wrote. “Those four posts totaled more than 10 million unique visitors alone and were four of the 37 most trafficked posts on the entire WaPo website this year.”

Americans love a prediction. We crave certainty. This makes the life of a successful predictor an attractive one, as Lichtman, who has achieved some measure of fame, can attest. But a professional forecaster is always one bad call away from irrelevance.

Give Lichtman credit for making concrete predictions to which he can be held accountable. As he always says, the probabilistic forecasts currently in vogue can’t be proved or disproved. The Nate Silvers of the world, who have unanimously labeled the upcoming election a toss-up, will be correct no matter who wins. Not so for Lichtman. A Trump restoration would not just end his winning streak. It would call into question his entire theory of politics. We are all waiting to find out how pragmatic the electorate really is.

Why Trump and Harris Are Turning to Podcasts

The Atlantic

www.theatlantic.com › newsletters › archive › 2024 › 10 › why-trump-and-harris-are-turning-to-podcasts › 680199

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Kamala Harris is in the midst of a media blitz this week, including an interview on CBS’s 60 Minutes yesterday evening and an appearance on The Late Show With Stephen Colbert tonight. But she is also dipping into the world of mega-popular, not straightforwardly journalistic podcasts—notably appearing on the show Call Her Daddy last weekend. I spoke with my colleague Helen Lewis, who covers the podcast-sphere, about why Donald Trump and Harris are both spending time on these sorts of shows, what these interviews avoid, and how independent podcasters became major players in political media.

The New Mainstream

Lora Kelley: How does the value to the viewer of a traditional press interview—one focused on the specific issues and policies of the race—differ from that of a lifestyle podcast?

Helen Lewis: Roughly speaking, there are two types of sit-down conversations in politics: the accountability interview and the talk-show appearance. One focuses on pinning down candidates on their past statements and their future promises; the other, which most podcasts fall into, tries to understand the candidate as a person. The latter aren’t necessarily soft options—being charismatic and engaging while making small talk or fielding deeply personal questions is a skill in itself. (And I found Donald Trump’s appearance on Theo Von’s podcast, where he talked about his elder brother’s struggle with alcoholism, very revealing indeed.)

But only with the accountability interviews do you get candidates pressed repeatedly on questions that they’re trying to dodge. On Logan Paul’s podcast, Impaulsive, Trump was asked about the transmission of fentanyl over the border, and he got away with rambling about how “unbelievable” the German shepherds Border Patrol officers use are. On Lex Fridman’s podcast, Trump asserted that he could easily sort out the crisis in Ukraine—and that was it. Who needs details? When Kamala Harris went on Call Her Daddy, the host, Alex Cooper, gave her a chance to lay out her message on reproductive rights but didn’t, for example, challenge her on whether she supports third-trimester abortions, which are deeply divisive.

Lora: From the perspective of a political campaign, are there any downsides to appearing on a podcast such as Call Her Daddy?

Helen: The obvious criticism of Harris appearing on Call Her Daddy, which has a young, female audience, is that she already has a big lead among young women aged 18–25. You can say the same about Trump appearing on podcasts that are popular with young men. But both groups contain many people who will be undecided about whether to vote at all.

Lora: Harris has done some traditional press interviews during this campaign cycle, including her 60 Minutes interview yesterday. But are we in a new era in which chats with friendly podcasters rival (or even overtake) traditional media interviews?

Helen: Well, quite. An article I think about a lot is John Herrman’s 2015 “Access Denied,” in which he asked why an A-lister—someone like Kim Kardashian—would give an interview to a celebrity magazine if she had something to sell, instead of simply putting a picture on Instagram. Why cooperate with the old guard of media when they are no longer the gatekeepers of attention? Herrman argued that the traditional media was suffering a “loss of power resulting in a loss of access resulting in further loss of power.”

That dynamic has now migrated to politics. The legacy brands no longer have a monopoly on people’s attention, and the online right, in particular, has been extremely successful in building an alternative, highly partisan media. Fox News is no longer the rightmost end of the spectrum—beyond that is Tucker Carlson’s podcast, or the Daily Wire network, or Newsmax, or Elon Musk’s X.

Now candidates tend to talk to the traditional media only when they want to reset the narrative about them, because other journalists still watch 60 Minutes or whatever it might be. There’s still a noisiness around a big legacy interview that you don’t get with, say, Call Her Daddy—even if more people end up consuming the latter.

Lora: Are these podcasts really doing anything new, or are they largely replicating traditional media interviews without the same standards and accountability?

Helen: The better ones strive for impartiality and don’t, for example, reveal their questions in advance—but many political podcasts are wrapped in an ecosystem where big-name guests mean more advertising revenue, and thus bigger profits for the hosts personally; plus, their only hope of getting a second interview is if the candidate feels the first one was sympathetic. Compare that with 60 Minutes, which interviewed Trump so robustly in 2020 that he has asked for an apology.

I’m as guilty as anyone, but we need to stop treating these podcasts as the “alternative” media when they are absolutely the mainstream these days. The top ones have audiences as big as, if not bigger than, most legacy outlets. If they don’t want to hire all the editorial infrastructure that traditional journalism has (such as fact-checkers, research assistants, etc.), or risk being unpopular by asking difficult questions, that’s on them. Joe Rogan renewed his Spotify contract for $250 million. Alex Cooper signed a deal with SiriusXM this year worth $125 million. We should stop treating the mega-podcasts like mom-and-pop outfits competing with chain stores. They’re behemoths.

Lora: You recently wrote about The Joe Rogan Experience, which is the top-listened-to podcast on Spotify and arguably the most influential behemoth of them all. Why haven’t the candidates gone on the show yet? Who from each ticket do you think would make the most sense as a guest?

Helen: As I understand it, Team Trump would love to get on The Joe Rogan Experience. The two politicians that Rogan adores are Tulsi Gabbard and Robert F. Kennedy Jr., who are now both working with the Republicans, and Team Trump would hope to encourage some of Rogan’s audience of crunchy, COVID-skeptic libertarians to follow them in moving from the independent/Democrat column to the GOP. But Rogan isn’t a full MAGA partisan like some of his friends, and Trump recently said that Rogan hasn’t asked him to appear.

In any case, I think Rogan would prefer to talk to J. D. Vance, who is very much part of the heterodox Silicon Valley–refugee tendency that he admires. For the Democrats, Harris might struggle to relax into the stoner-wonderment vibe of Rogan, given the tight-laced campaign she’s running. Rogan and Tim Walz could probably have a good chat about shooting deer and the best way to barbecue.

Related:

What going on Call Her Daddy did for Kamala Harris How Joe Rogan remade Austin

Here are three new stories from The Atlantic:

Milton is the hurricane that scientists were dreading. David Frum: Behind the curtain of Mexico’s progress Donald Trump flirts with race science.

Today’s News

Florida Governor Ron DeSantis announced that roughly 8,000 National Guard members will be mobilized by the time Hurricane Milton, a Category 5 storm, makes landfall this week. The Supreme Court appears likely to uphold the Biden administration’s regulation of “ghost gun” kits, which allow people to buy gun parts and build the weapons at home. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu claimed that the Israeli military has killed the replacement successors of the Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah, who was killed in an Israeli air strike last month.

Dispatches

Atlantic Intelligence: The list of Nobel laureates now contains two physicists whose 1980s research laid the foundations for modern artificial intelligence, Matteo Wong writes.

Explore all of our newsletters here.

Evening Read

Illustration by Ben Kothe / The Atlantic. Source: Getty.

They Were Made Without Eggs or Sperm. Are They Human?

By Kristen V. Brown

The little clump of cells looked almost like a human embryo. Created from stem cells, without eggs, sperm, or a womb, the embryo model had a yolk sac and a proto-placenta, resembling a state that real human embryos reach after approximately 14 days of development. It even secreted hormones that turned a drugstore pregnancy test positive.

To Jacob Hanna’s expert eye, the model wasn’t perfect—more like a rough sketch … But in 2022, when two students burst into his office and dragged him to a microscope to show him the cluster of cells, he knew his team had unlocked a door to understanding a crucial stage of human development. Hanna, a professor at the Weizmann Institute of Science in Israel, also knew that the model would raise some profound ethical questions.

Read the full article.

More From The Atlantic

Israel and Hamas are kidding themselves, Hussein Ibish argues. The New York race that could tip the House

Culture Break

Warner Bros. / Everett Collection

Read. Lauren Elkin’s latest novel, Scaffolding, suggests that total honesty can take a marriage only so far, Lily Meyer writes.

Watch (or skip). Joker: Folie à Deux (out now in theaters) has nothing interesting to say about the challenges of fame, Spencer Kornhaber writes.

Play our daily crossword.

Stephanie Bai contributed to this newsletter.

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Health Care Is on the Ballot Again

The Atlantic

www.theatlantic.com › politics › archive › 2024 › 10 › health-care-election-2024 › 680132

In an otherwise confident debate performance on Tuesday, the Republican vice-presidential nominee, J. D. Vance, conspicuously dodged questions from the CBS moderators about his views on health care. For weeks, Vance has made clear his desire to dismantle one of the central pillars of the Affordable Care Act: the law’s provisions that require the sharing of risk between the healthy and the sick. On Tuesday, though, Vance refused to elaborate on his plans to reconfigure the ACA, instead pressing the implausible argument that Donald Trump—who sought to repeal the law, and presided over a decline in enrollment during his four years in office—should be viewed as the program’s savior.

Vance’s evasive response to the questions about health care, on a night when he took the offensive on most other subjects, exposed how fraught most Republicans still consider the issue, seven years after Trump’s attempt to repeal the ACA died in the Senate. But Vance’s equivocations should not obscure the magnitude of the changes in the program that he has signaled could be coming in a second Trump presidency, particularly in how the law treats people with significant health problems.

The ACA provisions that mandate risk-sharing between the healthy and sick underpin what polls show has become its most popular feature: the requirement that insurance companies offer coverage, at comparable prices, to people with preexisting conditions. In numerous appearances, Vance has indicated that he wants to change the law to restore to insurance companies the ability to segregate healthy people from those with greater health needs. This was a point that Tim Walz, the Democratic vice-presidential nominee, accurately stressed during the debate.

The political paradox of Vance’s policy is that the trade-off he envisions would primarily benefit younger and healthier people, at a time when most young people vote Democratic. Conversely, the biggest losers would be older adults in their last working years before they become eligible for Medicare. That would hit older working-class adults, who typically have the biggest health needs, especially hard. Those older working people are a predominantly white age cohort that reliably favors the Republican Party; in 2020, Trump won about three-fifths of white voters ages 45 to 64, exit polls found. The threat that the GOP’s ACA alternatives present to these core Republican voting groups represents what I called in 2017 “the Trumpcare conundrum.”

“Going back to the pre-ACA days of segregated risk pools would lower premiums for young and healthy people, but result in increased cost and potentially no coverage at all for those with preexisting conditions,” Larry Levitt, the executive vice president for health policy at the nonpartisan KFF (formerly known as the Kaiser Family Foundation), told me.

Vice President Kamala Harris’s campaign hopes to exploit that tension by launching a major advertising campaign across swing states this week to raise an alarm about the plans from Trump and Republicans to erode the ACA’s coverage. Support for the ACA—in particular, its provisions protecting people with preexisting conditions—may be one of Harris’s best assets to hold support from older and blue-collar white women, who may otherwise be drawn to Trump’s argument that only he can keep them safe from the threats of crime and undocumented immigration.

[Helen Lewis: Did Donald Trump notice J. D. Vance’s strangest answer?]

The efforts of Republicans like Vance to roll back the ACA this long after President Barack Obama signed it into law, in 2010, are without historical precedent: No other major social-insurance program has ever faced such a lengthy campaign to undo it. After Franklin D. Roosevelt signed Social Security into law in 1935, Alf Landon, the GOP presidential nominee in 1936, ran on repealing it. But when he won only two states, no other Republican presidential candidate ever again ran on repeal. And no GOP presidential candidate ever ran on repealing Medicare, the giant health-care program for the elderly, after President Lyndon B. Johnson signed it into law in 1966.

By contrast, this is the fourth consecutive election in which the GOP ticket has proposed repealing or restructuring the ACA—despite polling that shows the act’s broad popularity. During Trump’s first year in office, House Republicans passed a bill to rescind the law without support from a single Democrat. The repeal drive failed in the Senate, when three Republican senators opposed it; the final gasp came when the late Senator John McCain voted no, giving a dramatic thumbs-down on the Senate floor.

Most health-care analysts say that, compared with 2017, the ACA is working much better today. At that point, the ACA exchanges had begun selling insurance only three years earlier, following a disastrously glitchy rollout of the federal website that consumers could use to purchase coverage. When congressional Republicans voted on their repeal plans, about 12 million people were receiving coverage through the ACA, and the stability of the system was uncertain because insurers feared that too many of those buying insurance on the exchanges were sicker people with more expensive health needs.

“In 2017, not only did we have rising premiums because insurance companies were worried the market was getting smaller and sicker, but we also had insurance companies exiting markets and raising the risk that parts of the country would have nobody to provide coverage,” Sabrina Corlette, a professor at Georgetown University’s Center on Health Insurance Reforms, told me.

Today, however, “we are in a very, very different place,” she said. “I would argue that the ACA marketplaces are thriving and in a very stable” condition. The number of people purchasing insurance through the ACA exchanges has soared past 21 million, according to the latest federal figures. Premiums for plans sold on the ACA exchanges, Corlette said, are rising, but generally not faster than the increase faced by employer-provided insurance plans. And enough insurers are participating in the markets that more than 95 percent of consumers have access to plans from three or more firms, according to federal figures.

Despite Vance’s portrayal of Trump as the program’s savior, the number of people receiving coverage through the ACA exchanges actually declined during Trump’s term, to 11.4 million, after he shortened the enrollment period and cut the advertising promoting it. The big leap forward in ACA participation came when the Democratic-controlled Congress in 2021 passed a major increase in the subsidies available to people for purchasing insurance on the exchanges. That made a mid-range (“silver”) insurance plan available for people earning up to 150 percent of the poverty level at no cost, and ensured that people earning even four times that level would not have to pay more than 8.5 percent of their income on premiums.

“The biggest criticism of the ACA from the start, which in many ways was legitimate, was that the coverage was not truly affordable,” Levitt said. “The enhanced premium subsidies have made the coverage much more affordable to people, which has led to the record enrollment.”

Neera Tanden, the chief domestic-policy adviser for President Joe Biden, told me that the steady growth in the number of people buying insurance through the ACA exchanges was the best indication that the program is functioning as intended. “A way to determine whether a program works is whether people are using it,” Tanden said. “No one is mandated to be in the exchanges, and they have grown 75 percent in the past four years. This is a program where people are voting with their feet.”

Conservative critics of the law nonetheless see continuing problems with the system. Michael Cannon, the director of health-policy studies at the libertarian Cato Institute, points out that many insurers participating in the ACA exchanges limit their patients to very narrow networks of doctors and hospitals, a trend acknowledged even by supporters of the law. And Cannon argues that the continued rise in premiums for plans sold on the ACA show that it has failed in its initial ambition to “bend the curve” of health-care spending, as Obama often said at the time.

The ACA “has covered marginally more people but at an incredible expense,” Cannon told me. “Don’t tell me it’s a success when it is exacerbating what everyone acknowledges to be the main problem with the U.S. health sector”—the growth in total national health-care spending.

Other analysts see a more positive story in the ACA’s effect on coverage and costs. The insurance exchanges established by the ACA were one of the law’s two principal means of expanding coverage for the uninsured. The second prong was its provision providing states with generous grants to extend Medicaid eligibility to more working, low-income adults. Although 10 Republican-controlled states have still refused to extend eligibility, nearly 24 million people now receive health coverage through the ACA’s Medicaid expansion.

Combined with the roughly 21 million receiving coverage through the exchanges, that has reduced the share of Americans without insurance to about 8 percent of the population, the lowest ever recorded and roughly half the level it was before the ACA was passed.

Despite that huge increase in the number of people with insurance, health-care spending now is almost exactly equal to its level in 2009 when measured as a share of the total economy, at slightly more than 17 percent, according to KFF figures. (Economists usually consider that metric more revealing than the absolute increase in spending.) That share is still higher than the equivalent figure for other industrialized countries, but Levitt argues that it counts as an overlooked success that “we added tens of millions of people to the health-insurance rolls and did not measurably increase health-care spending as a result.”

[David Frum: The Vance warning]

The ACA’s record of success underscores the extent to which the continuing Republican opposition to the law is based on ideological, rather than operational, considerations. The GOP objections are clustered around two poles.

One is the increase in federal spending on health care that the ACA has driven, through both the generous premium subsidies and the costs of expanding Medicaid eligibility. The repeal bill that the House passed in 2017 cut federal health-care spending on both fronts by a total of about $1 trillion over a decade. This spring, the conservative House Republican Study Committee released a budget that proposed to cut that spending over the same period by $4.5 trillion; it also advocated converting Medicaid from an entitlement program into a block grant. Every serious analysis conducted of such proposals has concluded that they would dramatically reduce the number of Americans with health insurance.

Even if Republicans win unified control of Congress and the White House in November, they may not be able to muster the votes for such a sweeping retrenchment of federal health-care spending. (Among other things, hospitals in reliably red rural areas heavily depend on Medicaid.) At a minimum, however, Trump and congressional Republicans would be highly unlikely to extend the enhanced ACA subsidies that expire at the end of 2025, a move that could substantially reduce enrollment on the exchanges.

The other main Republican objection is the issue that Vance has highlighted: the many elements of the ACA that require risk-sharing between the healthy and the sick. The ACA advanced that goal with an array of interlocking features, including its core protection for people with preexisting conditions.

In varying ways, the GOP alternatives in 2017 unraveled all of the law’s provisions that encouraged risk-sharing—by, for instance, allowing states to override them. That triggered the principal public backlash against the repeal effort, as Americans voiced their opposition to rescinding the ACA’s protections for people with preexisting conditions. But Vance has made very clear that a second Trump administration would resume the effort to resurrect a pre-ACA world, in which insurers sorted the healthy from the sick.

“A young American doesn’t have the same health-care needs as a 65-year-old American,” Vance argued recently on Meet the Press. “A 65-year-old American in good health has much different health-care needs than a 65-year-old American with a chronic condition.” Although “we want to make sure everybody is covered,” Vance claimed, “the best way to do that is to actually promote some more choice in our health-care system and not have a one-size-fits-all approach.”

Supporters of this vision, such as Cato’s Cannon, argue that it would allow younger and healthier people to buy less comprehensive plans than the ACA now requires, at much lower cost. As those more affordable options become available, Cannon says, cutting Medicaid spending to the degree Republicans envision would be more feasible, because people currently covered under that program could instead purchase these skimpier but less expensive private-insurance policies. Government-subsidized high-risk pools, the argument goes, could provide affordable coverage for the people with greater health needs whom insurers would weed out from their new, slimmed-down plans.

“If you want to make health care universal, you need to give insurers and consumers the freedom to agree on the prices and terms of health-insurance contracts themselves,” Cannon told me. “You need to let market competition drive the premiums down for healthy people as low as possible so they can afford coverage.”

Supporters of the ACA generally agree with the first point: that a deregulated system would allow insurers to create less expensive plans for young, healthy people. But they believe that all the arguments that follow are mistaken. Initial premiums might be lower, but in a deregulated system, even young and healthy families might find comprehensive policies, including such coverage as maternity benefits, unaffordable or unavailable, Georgetown’s Corlette told me. And when, before the ACA, states sought to establish high-risk pools for people with greater health needs, those efforts almost uniformly failed to provide affordable or adequate coverage, she pointed out.

Even if a reelected Trump lacks the votes in Congress to repeal the ACA’s risk-sharing requirements, he could weaken them through executive-branch action. In his first term, Trump increased the availability of short-term insurance plans that were free from the ACA’s risk-sharing requirements and its protections for people with preexisting conditions. Biden has shut down such plans, but if Trump won a second term and reauthorized them, while ending the enhanced subsidies, that could encourage many healthy people to leave the exchanges for those lower-cost options. Such actions would further the goal of Vance and other ACA critics of separating the healthy and sick into separate insurance pools.

Vance’s most revealing comment about this alternative vision may have come during a recent campaign stop in North Carolina, when he said that his proposed changes to the ACA would “allow people with similar health situations to be in the same risk pools.” But—as many health-policy experts noted to me, and Walz himself observed last night—that notion rejects the central purpose of any kind of insurance, which is to spread risk among as many people as possible—which, in fact, may be the point for Vance and other conservative critics of the ACA.

“The far right,” Tanden told me, “has always believed people should pay their own way, and they don’t like the fact that Social Security, Medicare, the ACA are giant social-insurance programs, where you have a giant pooling of risk, which means every individual person pays a little bit so they don’t become the person who is bankrupted by being sick or old.”

To date in the presidential race, health care has been eclipsed by two other major issues, each foregrounded by one of the nominees: immigration for Trump, and abortion for Harris. Under the glare of the CBS studio lights on Tuesday night, Vance was tactical in saying very little about his real health-care ideas. But the arguments he has advanced aggressively against crucial provisions of the Affordable Care Act have made clear that its future is still on the ballot in 2024.

You’re Killing Me, Walz

The Atlantic

www.theatlantic.com › politics › archive › 2024 › 10 › tim-walz-debate-flub › 680124

About half an hour into last night’s vice-presidential debate, the CBS anchor Margaret Brennan turned to Tim Walz and asked a question that the Minnesota governor had to have known would come. “You said you were in Hong Kong during the deadly Tiananmen Square protests in the spring of 1989,” she said, noting that new reporting suggests Walz didn’t go to Asia until months later. “Can you explain that discrepancy?”

“Look,” Walz began, “I grew up in small, rural Nebraska, a town of 400, a town that you rode your bike with your buddies ’til the street lights come on.” He went on to explain how, as a teacher, he’d taken young people on educational visits to China. “I have poured my heart into my community. I’ve tried to do the best I can, but I’ve not been perfect, and I’m a knucklehead at times.”

Kamala Harris chose Walz, most observers have agreed, for his Everyman aesthetic and fluency in retail politics. And so far, the affable former high-school football coach and hype man for Menards has mostly received glowing reviews. He is much more adept than his Republican counterpart, J. D. Vance, at engaging with voters as a regular guy.

Which is why he should have had a better answer last night. And Walz’s failure to provide a coherent, succinct correction for an entirely predictable inquiry about one of his flubs suggests ill-preparedness for a spotlight that is only going to get brighter—and harsher—in the weeks to come.

Vance delivered a slick debate performance, though it would be a mistake to call it a “win” when he engaged in so much sinister revisionist history. In what would turn out to be the most striking moment of the night, Vance refused to admit that Donald Trump lost the 2020 election. The senator from Ohio also mischaracterized Trump’s attempts to repeal the Affordable Care Act, and Vance claimed, falsely, that he’s never supported a national abortion ban.

Walz, for his part, deployed a few effective jabs. “That’s a damning nonanswer,” he said simply, after Vance’s election-denial tap dancing. Another time, in an exchange about gun-violence prevention and mental-health care, Walz looked right at the camera and said, “Sometimes it just is the guns. It’s just the guns.”

But when you’re running a campaign against liars and bloviators, it becomes all the more important not to lie or bloviate. And the Walz fumble on China was sloppy enough—and early enough in the proceedings—to feel significant. After his first answer, CBS’s Brennan gave him another chance to clarify. “All I said on this was, I got there that summer—and misspoke on this,” Walz said, before taking a long pause. “So I was in Hong Kong and China during the democracy protests, and from that, I learned a lot of what needed to be in governance.”

The bungled response made the moment worse than it needed to be. And calling himself a “knucklehead” came off more cringeworthy than charming. But it wasn’t the first time Walz has been ensnared by his own nonanswers. In August, a video surfaced on social media in which Walz referred to weapons “that I carried in war” to explain his support for an assault-weapons ban. Walz served in the Army National Guard for 24 years, but was never deployed to a combat zone. Asked about it in a sit-down interview, Walz had an exchange with CNN’s Dana Bash that followed a now-familiar pattern.

“You said that you carried weapons in war, but you have never deployed, actually, in a war zone. A campaign official said that you misspoke. Did you?” Bash asked.

“I speak candidly. I wear my emotions on my sleeves, and I speak especially passionately about our children being shot in schools and around guns. So I think people know me. They know who I am,” Walz said.

Bash pressed. “Did you misspeak, as the campaign has said?”

“I said we were talking about—in this case, this was after a school shooting—the ideas of carrying these weapons of war,” Walz replied, “and my wife, the English teacher, told me my grammar is not always correct.”

Some Democrats dismiss these fumbles. “So he had a bad answer to something that happened 35 years ago. Next!” the political strategist James Carville told me. That’s right in the sense that Walz’s remarks seem more slippery than nefarious. He isn’t obfuscating, as Vance is, about the results of the 2020 election.

Still, Walz’s sloppiness highlights a bigger problem with media accessibility and versatility for the Harris campaign. Both Democratic principals have been reticent, seemingly reluctant to engage with the press; lately, Walz especially has been tightly bubble-wrapped. Unlike the Republican vice-presidential candidate, Walz does not regularly appear on cable-news programs or spar with reporters at campaign events. He is out of practice, and it shows.

This morning, perhaps as an attempt at post-debate cleanup, the Harris campaign announced that Walz is expanding his schedule. The governor will travel to several swing states in the next few weeks, and do a lot more media appearances, including a podcast, a late-night-TV hit, and two national-TV interviews. That will surely help Walz get in some badly needed reps. Perhaps he’s kicking himself that he didn’t before last night.

Fact-Checking Is Not a Political Strategy

The Atlantic

www.theatlantic.com › politics › archive › 2024 › 10 › fact-checking-political-strategy › 680119

In the lead-up to last night’s vice-presidential debate between J. D. Vance and Tim Walz, CBS’s decision not to have moderators provide live fact-checking became a minor controversy. One pundit argued that this amounted to giving the truth-challenged Vance “license to lie,” and many of the Democratic faithful voiced similar complaints on social media. Mother Jones went so far as to precheck the debate. The X account for the Kamala Harris campaign declared: “JD Vance is going to lie tonight. A lot. So we are going to give you the facts.” It then fact-checked the event in real time, pointing out Vance’s dodges and deceptions.

At one moment early in the debate, the moderators seemed to struggle to suppress their journalistic impulse to correct the record. Contradicting Vance’s talking points about “illegal immigrants” in Ohio, CBS’s Margaret Brennan said, “Just to clarify for our viewers: Springfield, Ohio, does have a large number of Haitian migrants who have legal status,” earning an irritated objection from Vance. “The rules were that you guys weren’t going to fact-check,” he protested.

Other than that one “clarification,” the moderators mostly didn’t. But contrary to what liberals might believe, the lack of fact-checking probably didn’t help or hurt Vance (and by extension, Donald Trump). The uncomfortable truth is that if, journalistically, news outlets like CBS have a duty to contest lies, politically, fact-checking is less magic bullet and more magic beans.

[Listen: When fact-checks backfire]

Since Trump rode down his gaudy tower’s escalator to announce his presidential bid nearly a decade ago, the public has been inundated with a deluge of his lies. And as the media, voters, and Trump’s opponents attempted to figure out how to rein in a politician of unprecedented perfidy, fact-checking and combatting disinformation found new salience in public life. In the intervening years, fact-checking has transformed from a necessary piece of journalistic due diligence into a fetish object for Trump-weary Democrats. Some Democrats came to expect too much from fact-checking, and often seem to accord debunking a kind of political power to beat back Trumpism.

The 45th president has been subjected to a sustained fact-checking campaign for the better part of a decade. I do not think it’s an exaggeration to say that no politician in American history has been fact-checked more thoroughly than Donald Trump. And yet, all those years of myth-busting have had next to zero impact on his electoral viability. He managed to attract new voters in the last election. And even as he spouts racist nonsense about immigrants—thoroughly myth-busted by journalists—he is increasing his share of non-college-educated voters of color in this election.

My point isn’t that Democrats should give up on fact-checking, but that they need to remember that debunking is not a substitute for politics. At the presidential debate last month, when Trump repeated the conspiracy that Haitian immigrants were eating pets in Springfield, Ohio, the moderator duly corrected this bit of xenophobic fearmongering. For her part, Harris seemed to revel in Trump’s lies being called out live on air. “Talk about extreme,” she said, laughing, seeming to enjoy the moment.

What Harris didn’t do was take the opportunity to articulate anything about her worldview or policy positions on immigration, or point out that Springfield had welcomed immigrants as a way to combat the economic toll of decades of deindustrialization, which was itself the result of conservative trade policies that helped offshore manufacturing. Basking in the glow of the freshly checked fact, she forgot to outline a positive agenda, as though beating Trump were a game of whack-a-mole in which you win by smacking down all the fibs that pop up.

Does anyone really believe that the kind of voter who hears Trump blather about cat-barbecuing immigrants—and isn’t immediately disgusted—is likely to be moved by a CNN moderator tsk-tsking him and explaining that, actually, that isn’t true? Is any right-leaning swing voter or nose-holding Republican actually going to rethink their vote when they log on to the CBS website—if they even bother—and discover that Vance lied when he claimed that Harris is not invested in clean air or that she had been appointed “Border Czar”? For that matter, is any Harris-pilled Democrat going to rethink their vote when they find out that Walz lied about being in China during Tiananmen Square?

[Read: J. D. Vance tries to rewrite history]

Arguably, CBS should have fact-checked the debate, because it is a news outlet, news outlets provide journalism, and journalists fact-check. But journalists should also be honest about the limits of the practice. Because calling out every falsehood is impossible, journalists are forced to make judgment calls about which lies are significant enough to merit dispelling. Republicans distrust that selection process, rolling their eyes at misinformation-wrangling, which they believe is unfairly directed at their co-partisans, while Democratic dishonesty is given a pass. And all too often, journalists call out brazen lies while committing lies of omission themselves. Many journalists spent months ignoring the truth that Joe Biden was deteriorating before their eyes, and had the audacity to tell the American public that videos of the octogenarian president looking visibly confused were something called “cheap fakes.”

Pinning political hopes on fact-checking isn’t just bad for journalism, which gets reduced to a partisan instrument. It’s also bad for Democrats, causing them to forget to make a clear case to the American public that they have better policies. Donald Trump remains a fixture in American life not because of insufficient fact-checking—everyone, including his supporters, knows that he’s a bullshit artist—but because politicians, Republicans and Democrats alike, have failed to make a convincing case that they have truths on offer that are better than his lies.

The One Thing Vance Won’t Do for Trump

The Atlantic

www.theatlantic.com › politics › archive › 2024 › 10 › vance-trump-debate-walz › 680115

Here’s what you could have had: That’s what I kept thinking throughout the vice-presidential debate. The head-to-head between Tim Walz and J. D. Vance was a vision of what American politics could be without the distorting gravitational field generated by Donald Trump—a political interlude beamed to you from Planet Normal.

How soon will that day come? The most surprising moment of the debate arrived right at the end, when it became clear that the outwardly subservient Vance is already plotting his post-Trump future. Don’t tell the mad old king, but his most loyal baron is looking at the crown and wondering how well it would fit his head.

More on that later, but first let’s enjoy the climate on Planet Normal. Onstage in New York were two people with regular attention spans and an above-average ability to remember names and details. Vance, the Republican, offered slick, coherent, and blessedly short answers to the CBS moderators’ questions. (The Bulwark compared him to a “smoother, 2016-vintage Marco Rubio.”) Tim Walz, the Democrat, started nervously, quickly discovering that being folksy in an empty room is hard—although he certainly didn’t go down in Dan Quayle–style flames. The debate was cordial—too cordial for many Democrats, who wondered why Walz was not delivering the smackdowns they longed to see.

Both candidates committed political sins well within the expected range: Vance freely ignored the first question on Iran, and instead recapped his appealing backstory for any viewers unfamiliar with Hillbilly Elegy. Walz dodged and weaved around a question about his inflated biography, before eventually conceding that he “misspoke” when he claimed to have been in Hong Kong during the Tiananmen Square protests in 1989. The two men also managed to have several substantive exchanges on policy, arguing over what we can learn from Finland’s approach to gun crime, and to what extent mental-health issues interact with mass shootings. All of that was a reminder of what American political debates used to be like in the distant past of, oh, the early 2010s.

The pundits have largely called this debate for Vance, who successfully downplayed his unpopular positions on abortion and health care, and took several opportunities to push his key ideological theme of protectionism. America needs to become more self-sufficient, and not just in heavy industry, he said, because “the pharmaceuticals that we put in the bodies of our children are manufactured by nations that hate us.” That line sounded less paranoid than it once might have, after former British Prime Minister Boris Johnson revealed last week that, at the height of the coronavirus pandemic, he had flirted with sending a commando team to recover vaccines held by the European Union.

The audience polls were closer, however. Walz recovered from his shaky start to deliver several punchy lines. On gun violence, he talked about his own teenage son witnessing a shooting, drawing an empathetic response from Vance, as well as his meeting with the parents of the pupils killed at Sandy Hook—realizing that he had a picture of his own child on the office wall, when the people in front of him had lost their own children. Asked to explain why he changed his mind and now supported a ban on assault weapons, Walz said simply: “I sat in that office with those Sandy Hook parents.”

All very civil, sane, normal. Very demure. Every so often, though, an alternate reality began to bleed into the CBS studio. Or rather—our reality began to bleed in. The one where Donald Trump is the Republican candidate. The clearest signal was Vance’s frequent tic of referring to his running mate: Donald Trump’s energy policy, Donald Trump’s border policy, Donald Trump’s wisdom and courage. By contrast, Walz mentioned Kamala Harris more rarely.

You and I both know why Vance name-dropped with the zest of an out-of-work actor. Trump is one of those people who picks up a political memoir and flicks to the index to see how often he is mentioned. Over the past eight years, the entire Republican Party has reshaped itself around his giant ego, and it is filled with many men much smarter than Trump—men like J. D. Vance, in fact—who believe they can manipulate him through flattery. The former president won’t have been paying attention to the finer details of Finnish policy, but instead listening for his name. Throughout the debate, the Trump campaign’s rapid-response team blasted out “fact-checks,” but the candidate’s own TruthSocial feed rambled through his usual obsessions: the CBS anchors’ low ratings; paeans to his own greatness and sagacity—“America was GREAT when I was President,” “I SAVED our Country from the China Virus,” “EVERYONE KNOWS I WOULD NOT SUPPORT A FEDERAL ABORTION BAN”—and praise for “a great defense of me” by Vance.

The big mystery of this moment in American politics is that Trump’s flaws—his self-obsession, his lack of self-control, his casual lies—are so obvious. And yet all attempts to replace him with a lab-grown alternative, with those flaws removed, have failed. (Had Vance run in the Republican primary, I suspect he would have done about as well as Ron DeSantis.) The Republican base loves the chaos and the drama and the darkness that Trump offers, and resists all attempts to replace those qualities with boring competence.

All the way through, the times Vance really seemed in trouble were when he had to defend Trump’s behavior, and his own switch from critic to sycophant. He gave an outrageous—but superficially convincing—explanation for how he went from thinking Trump was “America’s Hitler” to its last and only hope. “I was wrong, first of all, because I believed some of the media stories that turned out to be dishonest fabrications of his record,” he said. In the same way, the only real flash of the dislikable “childless cat ladies” version of Vance—familiar to me from edgy podcasts and cozy Fox News interviews—came when he had to defend Trump’s lie about Haitian immigrants eating pets in Springfield, Ohio. When the moderators noted that the Haitians in question were in America legally, Vance replied: “The rules were that you weren’t going to fact-check.” Not exactly the response of a man confident that he is telling the truth.

Right at the end, Vance was asked whether he would challenge the election results in ways that violated the law and the Constitution. “I think that we’re focused on the future,” he said, before jazz-hands-ing into standard Republican talking points about the threat of Big Tech censorship. (The two flagship cases of this in right-wing lore involve Hunter Biden’s laptop and COVID discussions on Facebook and Spotify.) Harris, Vance said, would “like to censor people who engage in misinformation. I think that is a much bigger threat to democracy than anything that we’ve seen in this country in the last four years, in the last 40 years.”

At this, Walz found a new gear. The Folksy Midwestern Dad was now not angry, but disappointed in his wayward son, who had returned long after curfew, smelling suspiciously of weed. Vance, Walz’s demeanor implied, had let himself down. “I’ve enjoyed tonight’s debate, and I think there was a lot of commonality here,” he began, before mounting a devastating attack of Trump’s actions on January 6, 2021. “He lost this election, and he said he didn’t. One hundred and forty police officers were beaten at the Capitol that day, some with the American flag. Several later died.” As Walz moved into a riff about being a football coach, telling his team that playing fair was more important than winning at any cost, Vance reflexively began to nod slightly.  

In his response, Vance tried his best—pointing out that Hillary Clinton had raised the possibility of Russian interference in the 2016 election. But Walz shot back: “January 6 was not Facebook ads.” (We might also note that, whatever her misgivings about the election, Clinton attended Trump’s inauguration, explicitly acknowledging the peaceful transfer of power to an opponent. By contrast, Trump did not stay in Washington, D.C., to watch Joe Biden get sworn in as president, but instead flew off to Florida in a huff.)

Walz then asked Vance flat out whether Trump lost the 2020 election. Again, the Republican could only offer a cop-out—“Tim, I’m focused on the future”—and a pivot back to Big Tech censorship, which allowed Walz to go in for the kill. “This is not a debate,” he said. “It’s not anything anywhere other than in Donald Trump’s world, because, look, when Mike Pence made that decision to certify that election, that’s why Mike Pence isn’t on this stage.”

The extraordinary part of Vance’s waffle here isn’t that he refused to tell the truth—to say the 2020 election was valid. The really remarkable thing is that the Republican vice-presidential nominee can’t bring himself to agree with his boss and say that the 2020 election was stolen. In the past four years, the Trump campaign has filed multiple lawsuits to challenge the results, the candidate himself encouraged the crowds on January 6 to protest them—culminating in threats of violence to Congress and then–Vice President Pence—and his stump speeches regularly feature riffs about the issue. This year, he has suggested that he will lose only if the Democrats “cheat like hell.”

Vance did not echo this language, nor did he repeat his previous suggestion that he would not have done what Pence did in January 2021, which was to certify the results. On the most fundamental issue of this year’s contest—whether America is still a functioning democracy with free and fair elections—the Republican ticket is not entirely in sync.

Now, I’m beyond being surprised that Vance wouldn’t tell the truth. But I am intrigued that, when given the biggest platform of his career to date, he couldn’t bring himself to lie, either. After so many humiliating concessions, this is the point when Vance decided, to adapt the famous phrase of the poet E. E. Cummings, “There is some shit I will not eat.” He switched so deftly to his talking points about misinformation that much of the instant punditry missed his sleight of hand.

Why not agree with his boss about what happened in 2020? The inevitable conclusion must be that J. D. Vance—smart, ambitious, and only 40 years old—is already contemplating the post-Trump future. Once the former president is out of the picture, what will be the point of harping on his personal bitterness about being rejected by the American people? The voters of 2028 or 2032 will undoubtedly care more about gas prices and housing costs than an old man’s grievance. You might as well keep doing Trump’s crazy material about sharks and Hannibal Lecter.

By any measure, Vance did quite well last night. But I wonder if Trump noticed that, amid all the name-drops and the flattery, his running mate is “focused on the future”—a future that doesn’t include him.