Month: November 2025

MAGA IS NOT A MOVEMENT

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It’s a Warning Label for American Democracy

For years, pundits have treated “MAGA” like a marketing slogan with an attitude problem. But at this stage in American politics, it’s clear that MAGA isn’t just a hat or a rally chant. It has become a full-blown ideology built on resentment, mythmaking, and the insistence that democracy should bend to the will of one man. To pretend otherwise is to miss the central political story of our time—and the central threat facing the country.

MAGA presents itself as a grassroots uprising of “real Americans” against a corrupt elite. But scratch the surface and something very different appears: a movement convinced that the pluralistic, multiracial democracy we live in is inherently illegitimate. Its core message is unmistakable: the only valid votes are the ones cast for its own side; power lost is power stolen; institutions—from the courts to the press to elections themselves—are presumptively fraudulent unless they deliver the “correct” outcome.

This is not traditional conservatism. It is not small government or fiscal restraint. MAGA’s ideology begins and ends with a single premise: Trump is the state, and the state must serve Trump. Everything else—immigration panic, culture-war theatrics, attacks on public servants, threats of retribution—flows from that central impulse.

The cruelty isn’t incidental. It’s the brand. MAGA needs enemies because fear is the fuel that keeps the machine running. Immigrants, LGBTQ Americans, civil servants, teachers, journalists—anyone who refuses to conform to the MAGA myth of a homogenous, obedient America becomes a target. When you hear the chants about “taking our country back,” it’s worth asking from whom? The answer, often, is from fellow Americans who simply don’t look, vote, pray, or think like them.

Where Christian Nationalism Supercharges the Project

If MAGA were merely a political movement, it would be dangerous enough. But its power is magnified by the rise of Christian nationalism, which wraps authoritarian politics in religious language and moral entitlement. Christian nationalism insists that America was founded for Christians, by Christians, and must be governed through their preferred hierarchy of values. It casts secular government, pluralistic democracy, and church–state separation as threats rather than founding principles.

By fusing MAGA identity with religious destiny, the movement transforms political loyalty into a form of theological certainty. Opponents are not just wrong; they are ungodly. Democratic limits are not just inconvenient; they are immoral. This is why MAGA rhetoric so often veers into apocalyptic storytelling—claims that America faces spiritual warfare, that Trump is a chosen vessel, that compromise is betrayal of a divine plan.

When politics is reframed as holy conflict, the possibility of democratic coexistence collapses. Compromise becomes heresy; pluralism becomes an existential threat. Christian nationalism gives MAGA something every authoritarian movement seeks: a sacred justification for minority rule.

The Appeal—and the Manipulation

The tragedy is that MAGA harnesses real grievances. Millions of Americans do feel abandoned—by globalization, automation, stagnant wages, and political leaders more attuned to donors than to working families. Institutional failures are real. Economic inequality is real. Public distrust is real.

But instead of offering solutions, MAGA offers scapegoats. Instead of solidarity, it builds walls—literal and metaphorical. Instead of expanding opportunity, it narrows the definition of who belongs. It exploits pain without alleviating it, turning legitimate frustrations into fuel for a political project that leaves everyday people even more vulnerable.

For a movement that claims to fight elite power, MAGA has delivered almost nothing that helps ordinary Americans: tax cuts skewed to the wealthy, deregulation that favors corporations, culture-war diversions that do nothing to improve wages, safety, health care, or education. What it reliably delivers is spectacle—outrage cycles that keep supporters angry and the rest of the country exhausted.

Democracy as an Obstacle, Not a Value

The deeper danger is that MAGA has normalized the idea that democracy itself is optional. A functioning democracy requires more than elections; it requires shared rules of the game and a shared commitment to honoring them. MAGA rejects both. It demands loyalty not to the Constitution, but to personality. It treats the peaceful transfer of power as negotiable. It elevates conspiracy theories to the level of civic doctrine. And it conditions millions of Americans to see defeat as proof of fraud rather than a routine feature of democratic life.

The movement’s enthusiasm for purges, show trials, and loyalty tests is no accident. It is the natural outcome of a worldview that sees pluralism as weakness and dissent as treason. MAGA is trying to make authoritarianism feel familiar—almost patriotic.

A Radical Minority Movement, Not an Unstoppable Majority

One of the greatest myths surrounding MAGA is its supposed inevitability. In reality, it represents a radical minority with outsized influence because the majority often remains silent, fatigued, or intimidated. MAGA’s power grows not from broad public support but from intensity—the willingness of its followers to treat politics as a battlefield while everyone else tries to get on with their lives.

But democracies don’t survive on autopilot. They survive because enough people decide they’re worth defending.

The Choice Ahead

America has many political traditions worth celebrating. MAGA is not one of them. It is a warning label: a reminder that democracies don’t collapse only in distant countries or dusty history books. They can be hollowed out from within, one purge list at a time, one conspiracy theory at a time, one “stop the steal” at a time.

The real question now is whether the rest of us treat MAGA as an unstoppable force or what it truly is—a dangerous but minority movement that only thrives when the majority refuses to confront it.

Silence is how democracies unravel. A clear-eyed refusal to bow to fear is how they endure.

T. Michael Smith

wwwtmichaelsmith.com

WHAT IS CHRISTIAN NATIONALISM?

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OLD and QUIRKY            

Christian Nationalism Is Not a Revival. It’s a Rebellion Against Democracy.

Christian nationalism is surging once again in American politics, wrapped in the familiar language of “heritage,” “values,” and “restoring the nation’s soul.” But for all its pious branding, the movement isn’t a religious awakening. It is a political project—one that uses Christian identity not to enrich public life, but to dominate it. And if we are honest, the danger it poses today is less about theology than about the erosion of democracy itself.

At its core, Christian nationalism claims that America was founded as a Christian nation and must remain one to fulfill a divine mission. Its adherents view church–state separation not as a constitutional safeguard but as a secular plot to strip Christians of their rightful authority. And they insist that public institutions—from schools to legislatures to the courts—should explicitly place Christian doctrine over democratic principles. This is not Christianity. It is a power grab dressed in scripture.

A Selective Reading of Both History and Scripture

Christian nationalists often present themselves as guardians of the founders’ intentions, but their historical narrative is as thin as it is convenient. They champion the few founders who invoked Providence while ignoring the rest who explicitly warned against entwining church and state. They elevate 18th-century moral rhetoric while erasing the radical decision to prohibit religious tests for office, separate religious institutions from state funding, and place ultimate sovereignty in “We the People,” not in any church.

Their Christianity is just as selective. Ask a Christian nationalist to quote Jesus on poverty, inequality, or mercy, and the conversation suddenly turns to “law and order.” But mention sexuality, gender, or the right to control one’s own body, and suddenly the government must act as God’s enforcer.

For all the talk of “returning to biblical principles,” you will find far more compassion in the Sermon on the Mount than in any Christian nationalist policy platform. You will find more humility in the Gospels than in their strongman politics. And you will find far more warnings about the corrupting nature of earthly power than you will endorsements of the political crusades conducted in Christ’s name.

The Movement’s True Engine: Fear

I view Christian nationalism as a project built not on faith, but on fear. Fear of demographic change. Fear of losing cultural dominance. Fear of an America where Christianity must share public space rather than occupy it.

This is why the movement’s rhetoric often centers on existential threats: the nation is “under attack,” “losing its soul,” or “being taken away.” The argument isn’t that Christian nationalists want influence—they claim they are entitled to rule.

A pluralistic democracy requires compromise, negotiation, and shared belonging. Christian nationalism rejects all three. It sanctifies one political coalition as uniquely American and casts dissenters—progressives, secular citizens, non-Christians, LGBTQ+ people, even moderate Christians—as enemies of the divine order.

This framing is not theological. It’s authoritarian.

Cruelty Rebranded as Righteousness

One of the most telling features of Christian nationalism is the moral inversion it performs. Policies that inflict harm on millions are recast as moral necessities, while policies that relieve suffering are derided as godless.

Consider the policy landscape shaped by Christian nationalist rhetoric:

  • Forced pregnancy and the dismantling of reproductive rights, even in cases of rape or danger to the mother
  • Anti-LGBTQ+ legislation, targeting transgender youth under the guise of “protection”
  • Book bans and curriculum censorship aimed at controlling cultural narratives
  • Voter suppression efforts justified by appeals to “order” or “integrity”
  • Hostility toward social programs that fight poverty but do not police morality

These policies have little to do with spiritual well-being and everything to do with enforcing a particular social hierarchy. Cruelty isn’t a byproduct—it’s the point. Because when you declare your opponents morally illegitimate, policies that harm them become acts of righteousness.

This is a politics that uses faith as a weapon, not a guide.

Faith Consumed by Politics

The tragedy—not just for democracy but for Christianity itself—is that Christian nationalism often hollows out the very faith it claims to defend. When a religion becomes fused with political identity, loyalty to the leader replaces loyalty to God. The Bible becomes a prop used to sanctify partisan agendas. Religious identity becomes a membership card rather than a spiritual path.

Historically, whenever a political movement has attempted to merge divine authority with state power, corruption has followed. Religious leaders become political operatives; political operatives become pseudo-theologians. And ordinary believers find their faith reshaped in ways that have more to do with winning elections than living out Christian values.

Democracy demands accountability. Christian nationalism demands obedience.

The Anti-Democratic Heart of the Movement

At its deepest level, I view Christian nationalism as incompatible with a multi-religious democratic republic. You cannot run a democracy when one faction believes it has been ordained by God to govern. Once politics is cast as a holy war, compromise becomes sin, elections become obstacles, and political violence becomes justifiable.

This is why scholars consistently find a troubling correlation between Christian nationalism and support for authoritarian leadership, political violence “to protect the nation,” and the belief that only certain kinds of Americans deserve full citizenship. It is why Christian nationalist rhetoric was central to the January 6 attack. It is why movements seeking minority rule often cloak themselves in religious certainty: divine authority is the only thing that can legitimize their disregard for democratic outcomes.

This movement isn’t defending democracy. It is defending dominance.

A Better Vision: Strength Through Pluralism

There is another vision of America—one rooted not in fear but in freedom.

A nation where Christians can fully practice their faith, Muslims can fully practice theirs, atheists are equally respected, and no one’s rights hinge on the doctrines of someone else’s religion.

A nation where religion is welcomed in the public square but never weaponized by the state.  Where faith communities thrive through moral persuasion, not political coercion. Where democratic institutions protect all people equally, not according to the preferences of the majority religion.

The Real Calling

In the end, the critique of Christian nationalism is simple: A democracy cannot survive when one religious faction claims a divine right to rule.

And Christianity cannot survive when it is transformed into a political instrument.

If Christian nationalism succeeds, it will not produce a more faithful nation—only a more divided, more authoritarian, and less free one. The real work of protecting both faith and democracy begins with resisting the temptation to confuse God with government, or patriotism with piety. The leader of this movement is Russell Vought, head of the office Of Management and Budget and author of Project 2025. Beware!

Because the true strength of America has never been its religious uniformity, it has been its capacity to let many voices, many beliefs, and many identities share in the promise of a nation that belongs to all of us.

T. Michael Smith

wwwtmichaelsmith.com

Who Won the Shutdown?

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OLD and Quirky                                 

Republicans claimed victory. Democrats claimed pragmatism. But the real loser is democracy itself.

After 41 days of paralysis, furloughs, and fury, the federal government is finally lurching back to life. But while Washington congratulates itself for reopening the doors, Americans deserve to ask the real question: Who actually won the shutdown? The short answer is the same as it’s been for years—Republicans played hardball and Democrats blinked. The longer answer is more troubling: democracy itself lost ground.

The shutdown began as a standoff over something as basic as keeping the government funded and health care affordable. Republicans, emboldened by Trump’s renewed grip on Congress, refused to pass a budget that continued the Affordable Care Act subsidies millions rely on. Democrats, for once, stood their ground—at least at first—insisting that health care wasn’t a bargaining chip. For a moment, it seemed like they might hold together. But that moment passed.

As the weeks dragged on, pressure mounted: federal workers without paychecks, veterans missing benefits, food aid paused, airports in disarray. The human cost became unbearable. And when the breaking point came, it wasn’t the Republican leadership that cracked—it was the Democrats. Seven of them, along with an Independent, crossed the aisle to vote for a temporary deal that funded most agencies but postponed the health-care fight until December. The right called it pragmatism. The left called it surrender. Both were right.

Republicans walked away with the win they wanted. They reopened the government on their terms, without restoring the ACA subsidies that had triggered the crisis in the first place. They also sent a message: when Democrats talk about “no negotiation with hostage-takers,” they don’t really mean it. The GOP knows this game, and they play it well, manufacture a crisis, hold the economy hostage, and wait until moderates fold. It’s governing by brinkmanship, and it works because Democrats keep rewarding it.

But the political scoreboard isn’t the only thing that matters here. This shutdown exposed something deeper about the state of our democracy: we’ve normalized dysfunction. Americans barely flinched as the government shut its doors for over a month—the longest in U.S. history. The headlines were predictable, the outrage short-lived. Shutdowns are supposed to be unthinkable; now they’re routine. That’s not just bad politics; it’s a failure of civic imagination. We’ve come to expect chaos, and in that expectation, we’re losing the will to demand better.

Democrats will say they ended the shutdown to protect working families—and to a degree, that’s true. The public needed relief. But a deal that buys peace at the price of principle isn’t a victory; it’s a truce before the next defeat. By agreeing to revisit the ACA subsidies in December, they’ve simply postponed another crisis. Republicans, meanwhile, have every incentive to repeat the tactic. Why negotiate in good faith when obstruction pays dividends?

Still, this isn’t a story without hope. The divide within the Democratic Party—the progressives furious about capitulation and the moderates who claim to be realists—may yet lead to a reckoning. If Democrats want to stop losing these hostage situations, they need to stop accepting the terms. That means learning how to frame these fights not as “Washington dysfunction,” but as deliberate Republican sabotage of government itself. It means talking less about bipartisanship and more about accountability. The party that believes in government must finally learn to defend it with the same zeal that the other side shows in tearing it down.

Who won the shutdown? In the short term, Republicans. In the long term, no one—unless Democrats start treating governance not as a concession, but as a cause worth fighting for. The shutdown wasn’t just a budget dispute; it was a test of conviction. And once again, Democrats settled for survival instead of victory.

If there’s any lesson to draw, it’s this: the GOP is united by grievance, but Democrats can still be united by purpose. Ending this cycle requires courage—not just to reopen the government, but to rebuild faith that government matters. Until then, every shutdown will end the same way: with Republicans celebrating, Democrats rationalizing, and Americans paying the price.

T. Michael Smith

wwwtmichaelsmith.com

WE THE PEOPLE, MUST FIGHT FASCISM

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Old and Quirky       NOVEMBER 6, 2025

As We Face Fascism, Americans Must Find New Ways to Help Each Other

As we face fascism, Americans must find new ways to help each other. That word—fascism—is not hyperbole anymore. When one major political party excuses political violence, undermines elections, and pledges loyalty to a single man over the Constitution, the danger is no longer theoretical. Donald Trump and his allies have spent years testing how far they can push American democracy before it breaks. The answer, it turns out, depends on whether the rest of us stand together or stand aside.

Trumpism has always thrived on fear and resentment—turning citizens against each other while the powerful grow richer and more unaccountable. The movement’s latest phase is darker: purges of civil servants, vows to weaponize the Justice Department, promises of “retribution” against critics, and a growing chorus of politicians and pundits who echo authoritarian language with chilling ease. This isn’t just political rhetoric—it’s preparation. We’ve seen this movie before in history, and it never ends with freedom.

But here’s what fascism can’t survive: community. When Americans refuse to abandon one another—when we refuse to let cruelty become normal—the authoritarian project collapses. That means helping the neighbor targeted by hate, supporting local reporters exposing corruption, defending teachers who teach honest history, and protecting election workers from harassment. It means showing up, loudly and consistently, for the rights of people who don’t look or vote like us.

Republicans who still believe in democracy must find the courage to say so publicly. Silence is complicity. Too many have traded principle for proximity to power. Democrats, meanwhile, can’t assume that technocratic policy wins will save the republic. What will save it is solidarity—rooted not just in ideology but in moral clarity. The fight ahead is not between left and right; it’s between democracy and authoritarian rule.

America has faced this darkness before. From the labor strikes of the 1930s (my grandfather was in the camp of WW1 veterans that Douglas McArthur overran) to the Freedom Riders of the 1960s, ordinary people defied fear through mutual aid and moral conviction. When government failed, communities rose. When demagogues tried to divide us, compassion became a weapon of resistance. We can do it again—but only if we refuse to normalize what we know is wrong.

Every era demands its own form of courage. Today, courage looks like defending truth in an age of lies, decency in an age of cruelty, and democracy in an age of apathy. It means organizing, donating, volunteering, and speaking out even when it’s uncomfortable. Especially when it’s uncomfortable.

As we face fascism, Americans must find new ways to help each other—not just out of kindness, but out of survival. The next election will decide more than who governs; it will decide whether America remains a democracy at all. The time for polite hesitation is over. The time for solidarity has arrived.

What New Ways Can Americans Help Each Other?

As Americans, we must learn again how to help one another—not just in theory, but in practice. Authoritarian movements thrive on fear, isolation, and despair. The antidote is solidarity, rebuilt from the ground up. We cannot wait for institutions alone to save us; we must start saving each other.

1. Build local networks of care.
When people are targeted—immigrants, journalists, teachers, LGBTQ+ youth—neighbors should be the first line of defense. Mutual aid groups, community watch networks, and local support circles can provide food, rides, childcare, safety, or simply presence. Small acts of care create a shield against dehumanization.

2. Protect truth and share information.
Fascism depends on lies. Support local newspapers, public libraries, and independent journalists who still tell the truth. Learn to verify before sharing. Talk with neighbors rather than yelling online. Democracy begins with informed trust.

3. Defend democratic participation.
Volunteer as a poll worker. Help people register to vote. Offer rides on Election Day. Confront voter intimidation peacefully but firmly. The right to vote is meaningless if fear keeps people home.

4. Practice visible solidarity.
Show up publicly for those under attack—at school board meetings, protests, court hearings, or workplaces. When someone is harassed for who they are, make sure they know they’re not alone. Authoritarians rely on silence; courage is contagious.

5. Organize, don’t just agonize.
Talk politics at the dinner table. Join local advocacy groups. Donate to organizations defending rights and freedoms. True democracy isn’t passive—it’s built by people who refuse to give up their agency.

6. Care for yourself and each other.
Fighting authoritarianism is exhausting work. Rest, art, humor, and community meals are not distractions—they’re acts of resistance. A hopeful person cannot be ruled by fear.

Fascism feeds on despair; democracy feeds on connection. Americans can still choose to be the country that cares for its people, even when its politics fail them. The new ways we help each other may look ordinary—sharing food, standing together, telling the truth—but at this moment, they are revolutionary.

 T. Michael Smith

wwwtmichaelsmith.com