The Arrangement: Part 2
A Three-Way Dance
In my last post, we observed the arrangement leading to the approaching election as a three-way competition, using the guise of cooperation. It was a kind of a Kabuki dance led by Senator McConnell, Speaker of the House Mike Johnson, and former President Trump. Each danced on behalf of a constituency seeking ultimate power. Each leader and each cause needed the support of the other—until the music was to stop after the election and the winner would no longer need the others, or anyone else.
After the 1965 Voting Rights Act capped the civil rights movement, the economic base of the Republican Party saw an opportunity to recover the power the party and wealthy corporations enjoyed in the Gilded Age and the Roaring Twenties. McConnell has been steadily at work through the years, culminating in a Supreme Court fully committed to the interest of business and finance. On June 28, 2024, the Supreme Court handed McConnell a climaxing victory, overturning the forty-year Chevron precedent regarding regulatory agencies so hated by business. During the crucial period from the 1980s until the door was shut to congressional regulation, McConnell led the opposition to campaign finance reform. He expressed pride in being “the lead opponent of it over the last decade.” He continued to dole out the money of the leading Republican PACs and dark money contributions to candidates of his choice. The vision of a pyramidal society primarily set by levels of wealth increasingly smacks of the ancient model of pagan society. Money has gained the balance of power over elections and governance.
On his first day as the new Speaker of the House, Mike Johnson clarified his view of the relationship between church and state by reinstating the claim on which the divine right of kings had rested: “I believe that scripture, the Bible, is very clear that God is the one that raises up those in authority.” Soon afterward he asserted, "The separation of church and state is a misnomer.”
Mike Johnson believes in something that never was—America as a Christian nation. Certainly, the visions of the great prophets of Israel and Jesus of Nazareth were foundational for the Declaration of Independence and the National Constitution that drew on the great ideas coming to new light in the 18th century. These were the sources of humanism and liberal democracy. But the Founding Fathers were not going to make the mistake of the “Protestant states” and the “Catholic states” that were shaped out of the struggles of the 16th Century Reformations. They thoughtfully constructed a wall of protection between religion and government. Its authority is resolved case by case.
Christians believe the church should be a powerful force for the cause of a just society, but its responsibility in politics is to exercise influence, not to violate its religious role and not to be co-opted. The imposition of church doctrine on all citizens as a matter of law disregards the church’s mission of persuasion regarding Christian belief and practice. Traditional, theologically orthodox Christians would be the most offended group in America if rigidly fundamentalist Christians ruled a theocracy. The damage already caused to the faith by associating Christianity with the following of the constituencies of Trump and Johnson is unfathomable. Democracy is strong enough to withstand the attempt to rewrite history and interpret Jewish and Christian scripture without the benefit of scholarship. The protecting wall must stand to protect the majority will from narrow-minded legal codes.
Trump never cared about party, politics, or ideology one way or the other. He needed the Republican Party for the goal of winning enough votes to be elected and then to take over government to the greatest extent possible. Trump’s support of the economic and cultural agendas of McConnell and Johnson was offered for the singular reason of establishing and maintaining firm control of the Republican Party, whose tamed members felt that compliance was necessary for their political careers. They had also become fearful of retaliation that sometimes hinted directly enough at physical harm, including their families. Meanwhile, following the obstructionism that had worked so well for Mitch McConnell and the Freedom Caucus during the Obama Administration, democracy came under full and open attack grinding legislative action of Congress to a halt, and making room for the last step into authoritarian rule—destruction of the institutions and functioning of democracy. Having commanded the creation of the legislative and institutional void, Trump expected to fill it.
Trump made his aim of dictatorship perfectly clear in a series of campaign promises. He pledged to rid the nation of the “vermin” who have opposed him, indict those who challenge him during his new administration, and deploy the armed forces to serve his political and social purposes. He asserted that his claim of election fraud "allows for the termination of all rules, regulations, and articles, even those found in the Constitution." The pursuit of happiness for all citizens was not part of the Trumpist dream. The alliance and support of democracies around the world, in particular NATO, was not to be respected or desired. Ukraine was to yield the territory to suit Russian demands sufficiently. Trump sympathized with Putin’s invasion since it “was his dream.”
Most Americans were unaware of the intense three-way competition between McConnell, Johnson, and Trump—and between the realms of society they represented. The struggle was never reported or submitted to serious analysis by the media or ordinary citizens. With great interest the media took notice when there was agreement or disagreement between the individuals, such as when McConnell criticized Trump after January 6 or Johnson and Trump disagreed with McConnell about support of Ukraine. But finally, when push came to shove, observers would note what they considered cooperation within the Republican Party with the countering claim that Democrats were at loggerheads. This made Trump and the Republican Party look strong, and the Democratic Party look weak. In political campaigns “strong” beats “right” almost every time.
McConnell was, after all, a staunch conservative, especially in serving the causes depended on by the moguls of wealth. These large money contributors reciprocatively served as the financial backbone of the Republican conservative cause. Reliance on their support had been the heartbeat and soul of the Republican Party since the “captains of industry” (as FDR referred to them) of the 19th century. What McConnell and Trump agreed on was the need for big donors to fund the campaigns for president and the Senate well enough for victory. Trump, on his part, promised the donor class of their personal and business prosperity through corporate tax cuts, business deregulation, monopolistic protection, and tariffs. It was for the sake of his constituency of conservative donors that the Senate Minority Leader declared support for Trump’s candidacy.
There could be little argument about where Speaker Johnson and his primary constituency of conservative evangelical Christians saw themselves on the political scale. They had declared themselves politically conservative—passionately so—as a matter of their faith. They worked hard for the conservative issues in the “culture wars,” and were building a movement for Christian nationalism. Johnson’s support for Trump was unquestioned; the leader of the Republican Party seemed able to handle the Speaker of the House like a puppy on a leash. Having declared himself a conservative in the two previous campaigns, Trump successfully courted the crucial support of evangelical fundamentalists. He was not worried about their response when he again begged for their support in 2024, calling these supporters, “my beautiful Christians.”
McConnell and Johnson each hoped to advance his special cause by riding on Trump’s coattails. As Trump campaigned for president, McConnell and Johnson fell glumly but obediently in line. Both did their jobs successfully. Evangelicals fell into line and the money rolled in from Wall Street, Silicon Valley, and traditional Republican Party sources. McConnell, however, eventually found himself “joined” by Elon Musk in the role of raising funds from large donors, mostly from his personal billions. By the end of the campaign, McConnell’s enmity with Trump was published for all to see in his new book, immediately a best seller. In his final days in the Senate the former “colleague” began voting against Trump, at times the only one. He was no longer the leader of the Republican funding machine, and, as he moved to the political sidelines, corporations and the uber rich donors were about to experience unexpected confusion—except for Musk.
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