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When I think about the ways in which the brute force of power and politics can impose itself, there’s a concise phrase that pops into my mind: Your money or your life. It’s a phrase that recalls gun-toting stick-up artists from half-remembered film noir mediocrities; cheap clichés of pulpy criminals, whose appearance in the story is a prelude to somebody’s sordid end. It’s also a tidy two-item list of the stakes we have all felt lately, shut up in our homes as a once-in-several-lifetimes public health crisis unfolds outside. Life has, of late, simplified itself into some bare essentials: the need to safeguard our health, preserve our wealth, and come out the other side of this pandemic as whole as possible.
Alas, it’s not that simple. There is never just one crisis; never just one villain. But one of the unsung lessons of the Covid-19 era happens to share something in common with one of the most important aspects of the Trump administration: While the spotlight was shining so brightly at the monstrous spectacle of the day, a flock of lesser scoundrels emerged to poach your power and heist your life, leaving you to sputter in protest, “At any other time, this would have been front page news!” |
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It’s interesting how much minor villainy has not just transpired under the shadow of the deadly plague that has encircled the newshole, but been enabled by it. Consider the strange and angry Tea Partyish contingent of protesters who have lately taken to the streets in a few cities to inveigh against the protective measures that various state governments have imposed to halt the virus’s spread. These protests exist, in no small part, because of President Trump’s tweeted urgings to “liberate” various states. They are also happening because of a constellation of deep-pocketed conservative organizations well-practiced in the art of ginning up ersatz grassroots protests—a tradition that hearkens back to the fabled “Brooks Brothers riots” that turned the 2000 Florida recount on its head.
Of course, we can’t help but notice the president’s tweets. And it’s hard for organizations like FreedomWorks to just hide in plain sight. But what about the Dorr Brothers? You may not know that many of the Facebook groups that enabled lockdown protests in New York, Minnesota, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin were the creation of Chris, Ben, Aaron, and Matthew Dorr, four siblings whose family business seems to be generating elaborate grifts for unsuspecting conservative marks. The Dorrs have gotten so good at redirecting money that might otherwise go to legitimate conservative causes that even Republicans have sought to expose them.
And that’s pretty unique, because conservatives will tolerate a lot of scammers. As anyone who’s spent time perusing the downmarket literature of the far right can tell you, the conservative movement has made itself a welcome home for all manner of get-rich-quick cons, penny stock scams, and fake miracle cures. Trump’s championing of hydroxychloroquine—the hoax Covid cure he plumped with the immediately ironic catchphrase, “What do you have to lose? Take it!”—did not come from out of the blue. None of this has. As Rick Perlstein wrote in his seminal study of the confluence of conservatism and confidence men, “The strategic alliance of snake-oil vendors and conservative true believers points up evidence of another successful long march, of tactics designed to corral fleeceable multitudes all in one place—and the formation of a cast of mind that makes it hard for either them or us to discern where the ideological con ended and the money con began.”
If you have any experience with these cons, you might already know that many of them were carried out in the fine print of humble newsletters. Well, let’s just establish some ground rules, then. “Power Mad” will not make you rich. It won’t cure you of your ailments. It’s not going to provide a nation with herd immunity or change the course of an election. But it will shine a light on the scoundrels who are, perhaps, having an easier time than usual getting away with their schemes. And that may, in turn, help you save a little bit more of your money, or your life.
Thank you for subscribing. Let us begin.
—Jason Linkins, Deputy Editor |
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| In a matter of days, TNR will be launching some new sections on this website, including channels dedicated to culture, inequality, and the climate crisis. Your main spot for politics will be The Soapbox. There you can expect new work from your Soapbox regulars, such as Libby Watson’s examination of the fragility of our hospital system, Matt Ford’s regular dispatches from inside the minds of our Supreme Court justices, and Osita Nwanevu’s clarion call for a political culture that’s more daring. You’ll catch other members of the TNR family, such as Walter Shapiro, Melissa Gira Grant, Alex Pareene, Alex Shephard, and Adam Weinstein on these pages as well. We’ll also feature the work of guest writers with stories only they can tell, such as Sarah Wang’s incredible firsthand story of smuggling personal protective equipment to the hospital workers facing shortages, and Robin Kaiser-Schatzlein’s warning of how we may be back on the brink of another Too Big to Fail Crisis. There won’t be enough room here to share them all and I shall govern capriciously! |
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