Donald Trump looks on during a wreath laying ceremony at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at Arlington National Cemetery on August 26, 2024 in Arlington, Virginia.

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Politics


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August 28, 2024

Both Trump and JD Vance are incapable of hiding their lack of basic humanity.

Donald Trump looks on during a wreath laying ceremony at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at Arlington National Cemetery on August 26, 2024 in Arlington, Virginia.

Donald Trump looks on during a wreath-laying ceremony at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at Arlington National Cemetery on August 26, 2024, in Arlington, Virginia.

(Anna Moneymaker / Getty Images)

Tuesday’s political news cycle delivered a crash course in the fundamental outlook of the Trumpified Republican Party, via a pair of stories conveying the deep, reflexive contempt that Donald Trump has helped spread throughout the party’s upper reaches. This contempt extends not merely to the GOP’s political rivals but also to basic humanity and decency.

The Trump story came from a report by NPR’s Quil Lawrence and Tom Bowman about an ugly and cynical photo-op the Trump campaign staged at Arlington National Cemetery on Monday. Trump and his handlers had barged into Section 60 of the cemetery grounds, where recent war fatalities are laid to rest, in order to photograph the candidate at the gravesites of 13 soldiers killed during the US withdrawal from Afghanistan. The event culminated in a typically tasteless and inapposite shot of Trump giving a smiling thumbs-up at the site—not exactly a study in somber, statesmanlike mourning.

But, as Lawrence and Bowman reported, the photo-op was not merely an exercise in bad taste. Trump and his entourage had callously violated the cemetery’s strictures against using the graves of soldiers as a political backdrop, along with its policy against having anyone other than Arlington staff members take official photos there. And Trump staffers had profanely insulted the cemetery official trying to prevent the photo-op from happening, with some sort of altercation ensuing. “Federal law prohibits political campaign or election-related activities within Army National Military Cemeteries, to include photographers, content creators or any other persons attending for purposes, or in direct support of a partisan political candidate’s campaign,” the cemetery said in a statement to NPR. “Arlington National Cemetery reinforced and widely shared this law and its prohibitions with all participants.” The statement also confirmed that “there was an incident, and a report was filed.”

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Pressed for comment on the incident, the Trump campaign went into high-dudgeon overdrive. Campaign spokesman Steven Cheung, a former flack for the Ultimate Fighting Championship who likes to mimic his boss’s extreme personal attacks, fiercely denied that there was a physical altercation, asserting, “We are prepared to release footage if any such defamatory claims are made.” He then proceeded to deliver what he likely thought was a body slam from the ropes: “The fact is that a private photographer was permitted on the premises and for whatever reason an unnamed individual, clearly suffering from a mental health episode, decided to physically block members of President Trump’s team during a very solemn ceremony.”

That’s right: Cheung smeared the Arlington official trying to prevent the exploitation of the cemetery grounds for political gain as a random, erratic character in the midst of “a mental health episode” who apparently provoked Trump’s handlers by “deciding to physically block” their access to the site. This line of attack, among other things, isn’t the best look for a MAGA movement that launched a series of vicious salvos at Tim Walz’s neurodivergent son at the Democratic National Convention; it’s also not the greatest epilogue for the right’s many fizzled efforts to cast doubt on the integrity of Walz’s own military service. But it’s entirely of a piece with Trump’s consistently derisive and dismissive view of soldiers and military service, and his determination to treat the military as a wholly owned subsidiary of the Trump Organization.

What’s even more striking about this episode is how completely it undermined one of the only politically successful parts of last month’s Republican National Convention. The convention aired a powerful video featuring survivors of the soldiers killed, who recounted the trauma of losing their family member—and then explaining that they never heard a word of condolence from President Joe Biden. (Biden, despite his well-known history of offering genuine empathy to people mourning devastating family losses, also has a traditional politician’s aversion to being confronted with the direct fallout from his policy decisions.) Several family members then appeared on the convention stage to denounce Biden further, and offer up their endorsements of Trump. It was a moment that appeared to show Trump in a rare relatably human, and even somewhat compassionate, light. (Of course, the convention segment included nothing about Trump’s own role, while president, in making the conditions of the Afghanistan withdrawal so hazardous, and didn’t include testimonials from the families of seven soldiers killed in the suicide attack—or note Trump’s own aversion to attending the ceremonial “dignified return” of soldiers’ remains at Dover Air Force Base, spurred by the anger of the father of the Navy SEAL soldier killed in the strike ordered on Yemen in 2017.)

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But now, in the heat of a campaign where Trump has been steadily losing ground, he and his handlers have reverted to type. Gone are the niceties of image management. Instead, the campaign has seized upon the gravesites of dead soldiers as crude political props—while training rhetorical scorn and alleged body blows on anyone seeking to preserve the private, solemn character of remembrance for the war dead. It takes no small effort of the will to recall that Michael Dukakis’s 1988 presidential campaign was disastrously derailed by his ill-advised effort to don a military helmet while taking a ceremonial tank ride; somewhere outside Boston, Dukakis must be shaking his head in wonderment at the depravity of Team Trump and the unfairness of the cosmos.

The same brutal, careless outlook surfaced yet again from the number-two spot on the Republican ticket. The JD Vance of the present has managed to recede even further into the background as the Trump campaign romances third-party crank candidate Robert F. Kennedy Jr., but the JD Vance of the past is filling the void nicely. On Tuesday, the Harris campaign posted a recording of a 2021 Vance speech to the Christian Virtue leadership forum. In it, Vance launches into still another detour into his bizarre natalist obsession with childless women. Where he’d elsewhere dismissed people without kids as free riders on the sociobiological social contract—lacking enough “skin in the game” to be entrusted with serious grown-up responsibility—here he lays into the subgroup of childless women teachers.

“Our conservative idea is that a parent and a family should determine what ideas children learn and are brought up with,” Vance begins, citing a long-standing talking point in right-wing efforts to undermine public education and single-parent, dual-earner, and otherwise nontraditional families. He then supplies an example: “So many leaders of the left, and I hate to get so personal about this” Vance says (spoiler alert: Vance, in fact, does not hate to get personal), “but they’re people without kids trying to brainwash the minds of our children. And that really disorients me and that really disturbs me. Randi Weingarten is the head of one of the most powerful teachers’ unions in the country. She doesn’t have a single child. If she wants to brainwash and destroy the minds of children, she should have some of her own and leave ours the hell alone.”

Leave aside for the moment that the model of education Vance proposes is in fact antithetical to how public schools should function in a democracy; they have the explicit mandate of inculcating civic virtues that aren’t typically the priorities of domestic pedagogues. Leave aside as well the fact that for generations women educators were forced to leave teaching positions when they had children under the more standard-model social engineering sanctioned by natalist dogma—and that many educators in Vance’s Catholic faith are, in fact, unmarried and childless nuns. Consider instead that Randi Weingarten, despite what Vance says, is stepmother to the two daughters of her wife, Rabbi Sharon Kleinbaum. The point of Vance’s ugly, homophobic attack, in other words, is to deny the legitimacy of Weingarten’s status as a parent—the same stunt that his ideological comrade in the House, Marjorie Taylor Greene, tried to pull in a congressional hearing last year.

It’s also worth stressing that the logic of Vance’s remarks show that he’s not opposed to “brainwashing” America’s children on principle; instead, he favors letting right-wing parents do the relevant indoctrination. That would ostensibly be Weingarten’s own privilege were she to buckle down and have some kids of her own.

Vance candidly aired his reasoning in a podcast interview recorded just days ahead of his appearance at the Christian Virtue leadership forum. There he called for the right’s ideological seizure of the civil service, declaring, “We need a de-Ba’athification program in the U.S.… We should seize the administrative state for our own purposes. We should fire…every civil servant in the administrative state. Replace them with our own people.” In other words, Vance’s real grudge against Weingarten isn’t that she’s warping the minds of children; it’s that she’s not warping their minds in the way he prescribes—and the way that he wants all public servants to emulate on pain of ideological dismissal. It’s the same crass and instrumentalist vision that the Trump campaign has of dead soldiers—as designated movement props, rather than human beings with moral agency of their own. And just as Trump reportedly views dead soldiers as “suckers and losers,” so does Vance regard education, and governance more broadly, as a rigid process of developing kids into ideological ventriloquist dummies for the natalist right. Both repugnant views, steeped in the brutal ideological makeover of private life, are well-documented hobbyhorses of authoritarian movements, and a responsible, democratically minded press would cite both episodes as first-order disqualifications for both members of the GOP presidential ticket. But in today’s hopelessly deranged political discourse, it was just another Tuesday.

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Chris Lehmann is the DC Bureau chief for The Nation and a contributing editor at The Baffler. He was formerly editor of The Baffler and The New Republic, and is the author, most recently, of The Money Cult: Capitalism, Christianity, and the Unmaking of the American Dream (Melville House, 2016).

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The complex Kennedy legacy has reactionary as well as liberal strands. Former Republican presidential candidate Robert F. Kennedy Jr. and Donald Trump shake hands during a campaign rally at Desert Diamond Arena on August 23, 2024, in Glendale, Arizona. When he endorsed Donald Trump last Friday, Robert F. Kennedy Jr. (RFK Jr.) ignited a family drama. His famous family name is one of RFK Jr.’s main political assets, so it was not surprising that in explaining why he was suspending his campaign and backing Trump, he claimed the posthumous support of the two most famous members of his clan, his father, Robert F. Kennedy (RFK), and his uncle John F. Kennedy (JFK), both assassinated in the 1960s. RFK Jr. claimed that the two deceased statesmen “are looking down right now and they are very, very proud.” This audacious and galling claim was too much for Kennedy’s family. Five of RFK Jr.’s siblings issued a statement saying the endorsement was a “a betrayal of the values our father and our family hold most dear.” This letter was signed by Kathleen Kennedy Townsend, Courtney Kennedy, Kerry Kennedy, Chris Kennedy, and Rory Kennedy. In an interview with MSNBC, Kerry Kennedy said she was “outraged and disgusted by my brother’s gaudy and obscene embrace of Donald Trump.” She added that her father “would have detested almost everything Donald Trump represents if he was alive today.” Another RFK descendant, brother Max, wrote an op-ed in the Los Angeles Times that denounced RFK Jr.’s support of Trump as “sordid,” as well as “a hollow grab for power, a strategic attempt at relevance.” Max Kennedy noted that prior to backing Trump, his brother had unsuccessfully approached the Harris campaign with a quid pro quo, a possible endorsement in exchange for a position in her administration. It appears that Trump made the kind of deal RFK Jr. wanted, so if Trump returns to the White House there will be a position waiting for the black sheep of the Kennedy dynasty. RFK Jr. boasted to Tucker Carlson that he’ll be part of Trump’s transition team and “help pick the people who will be running the government.” Writing in The Washington Post, columnist Karen Tumulty lamented that “RFK Jr. has sullied the Kennedy name and the dimming aura of Camelot.” It’s undeniable that RFK Jr. has betrayed the liberalism that his family, in its best moments, embodied. Indeed, RFK Jr. also proved disloyal to his own stated values, since only a few years ago he condemned Trump as a “threat to democracy,” “a terrible president,” and “a sociopath” whose politics was based on “bigotry,” “hatred,” and “xenophobia.” Given this abrupt about-face, it’s not surprising that former close collaborators with RFK Jr., notably the investigative journalist Greg Palast, openly speak about the politician as someone who has “lost his mind” But as manifestly corrupt as RFK Jr.’s behavior is, we should be wary of the narrative of Camelot betrayed, which relies on the attractive fiction that there is a unified and unsullied Kennedy legacy. In truth, the Kennedys, who have been national figures for more than a century, have been all over the map politically—not always in admirable ways. The family have long been Democrats, but at times very reactionary ones, in a manner that does decidedly show an affinity for Trumpism. As the historian Garry Wills documented in his classic book The Kennedy Imprisonment (1982), the most searching of all books about the dynasty, the family’s patriarch, Joseph Kennedy (1888–1969), imprinted on his large brood a host of bad habits. The grandchild of Irish immigrants and son of a successful Boston politician, Kennedy rose to stratospheric wealth through the stock market and liquor (although not, contrary to popular myths, by bootlegging). But his plutocratic success didn’t win Kennedy many friends among Boston’s Brahmins—snooty WASPs who saw the Irish as inherently low-class. Stung by social rejection, Kennedy pursued alternative paths to status via Hollywood (taking, among many other starlets, Gloria Swanson as a mistress) and politics. Although a Democrat who was appointed as ambassador to England from 1938 to 1940, Kennedy fought bitterly with President Franklin D. Roosevelt. During his disastrous term as ambassador, Kennedy threw in his lot with the aristocratic Cliveden set in England who wanted to accept Hitler as overlord of Europe in order to build a bulwark against communism. When his own government rejected this embrace of Nazi domination of Europe, Kennedy concluded that FDR’s mind had been poisoned by a cabal of wicked Jews (such as Felix Frankfurter and Sidney Hillman) who were dragging America to war. A primordial patriarch, Kennedy saw the world in belligerent macho terms: All men were rivals; all women existed for sexual conquest. He passed along this attitude to many of his sons, sometimes, as Wills and other historians have documented, sharing his mistresses with his boys. As Wills conclusively shows, this macho attitude was a pervasive part of the life of JFK and RFK (although RFK, who had a streak of devout Catholicism, was not a compulsive womanizer). During the 1950s both Kennedy brothers were classic Cold War militant anti-communists. JFK was pals with Joseph McCarthy, even going on double dates with the Wisconsin demagogue. RFK served on the staff of McCarthy’s Senate Subcommittee on Investigations and wanted to be chief counsel, a job that was won by Roy Cohn (who would go on to be Donald Trump’s mentor in the art of dirty politics). In 1960, JFK ran to the right of Richard Nixon on foreign policy, decrying a fictional missile gap. As Wills notes, the failed invasion of Cuba in 1961 at the Bay of Pigs was a pure distillation of the Kennedy style of masculinist politics. The Bay of Pigs, Wills argues, was taken to heart because it was so clearly marked with the new traits of Kennedy’s own government. It had for its target the man who obsessed Kennedy. It had for its leader the ideal of Kennedy’s “best and brightest.” It was a chess game backed by daring—played mind to mind, macho to macho, charisma to charisma. It was a James Bond exploit blessed by Yale, a PT raid run by Ph.D.s. It was the very definition of the New Frontier. To the credit of the Kennedys, they also had a capacity to learn from their mistakes. During the Cuban missile crisis, JFK discovered how dangerous brinksmanship could be. A new openness to diplomacy can be heard in JFK’s address to American University, delivered on June 10, 1963, just five months before he was assassinated. JFK’s counterinsurgency program and meddling in South Vietnamese politics (including turning a blind eye to the assassination plot against President Ngo Dinh Diem) entangled the United States in a disastrous war. But by the late 1960s, both RFK Jr. and Edward Kennedy were outspoken critics of that war. Edward Kennedy went on to be an outstanding liberal senator, although his role in the death of Mary Jo Kopechne, a manslaughter case covered by Kennedy cronies, is a reminder of the family’s outrageous license. And Edward Kennedy remained unchecked in his sexual harassment of women, a lasting family trait. Last November, I appeared on the podcast Know Your Enemy to talk about Wills’s Kennedy Imprisonment. The show’s cohost Sam Adler-Bell noted that, on many points, the JFK in the book reminded him of Donald Trump: an aggressive and exploitive womanizer with vulgar taste who was saturated with media culture (Frank Sinatra and the Rat Pack in the case of JFK, reality TV in the case of Trump). The Kennedy presidency was the first really media-dominated administration, obsessed with “charisma” (an idea taken from the sociologist Max Weber but popularized in that era) and image-making (a concept expounded in 1962 by the historian Daniel J. Boorstin). The traits of charismatic leadership, as detailed by the sociologist Reinhard Bendix and distilled by Wills, are eerily prescient of the Trump era: a loose, personal style of leadership that prioritizes the loyalty of cronies and transactional deal-making above consensus building, democratic accountability, or following norms. Further, the aristocratic ideals JFK inherited from his perversely Anglophilic father, the belief that strong societies require great leaders who can transcend the blindness of the masses, was the seedbed of antidemocratic impulses that still bedevil American society. The Kennedys, therefore, have a mixed legacy. If they have been leaders of American liberalism, they’ve also at times embodied anti-liberal impulses that are antithetical to democracy. One way to describe RFK Jr.’s politics is that in endorsing Trump he is abandoning the liberalism of Edward Kennedy and reverting to the America First authoritarianism of his grandfather. It’s easy to understand why RFK, his siblings, and his cousins all remain haunted by the legacy of their family. To be the children of great men who were killed young is a heavy burden. This is part of what Wills means by the Kennedy imprisonment. But both the family and America would benefit from finding a way to escape this prison. The problem is not just that RFK Jr. has betrayed his father’s legacy, but also that he and America need to be more clear-eyed about how limited that legacy is. Camelot was always a myth. To move forward, that myth has to be left behind.

Pamela Price, the Alameda County DA, is fighting a recall vote and to defend her unwavering refusal to over-criminalize young people.

Piper French




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