Author: tom0261888

America’s Economy Is Growing

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But Only If You’re Standing in the Right Place

Every few weeks, a politician steps up to a podium and declares that “the economy is strong.” And in strictly mathematical terms, they’re right. The U.S. economy grew at a 3.8% annualized pace in the second quarter of 2025 — the fastest since 2023 — after dipping into negative territory earlier this year. Inflation has cooled from its post-pandemic highs, and unemployment sits near 4.4%.

But the story the numbers tell is not the story Americans are living. Because when you look closely — at who is benefitting, who is being left behind, and what lies ahead — the truth becomes clear: the U.S. economy works brilliantly if you already have wealth, stability, and assets. If you don’t, you are navigating an economic system that gives you occasional crumbs while telling you to be grateful.

The truth is this: the U.S. economy is on track for one of three futures, and each reveal who this system is built to serve. What’s striking is that in all but the rosiest scenario, working families are once again asked to carry the burden while corporations, speculators, and the ultra-wealthy skate by untouched.

1. The Best-Case Scenario: A “Soft Landing” That Still Leaves Millions Behind

In the most optimistic version of the next two years, inflation continues easing, growth stays positive, and unemployment levels off. Economists call this a “soft landing.” Sounds good — until you ask who lands softly.

Even in the best case, housing remains unaffordable, wages lag behind the real cost of living, and corporate profits continue to soar. The wealthy glide through turbulence in private jets; working Americans are crammed into economy seating, still waiting for a drink of water.

This scenario isn’t a triumph — it’s the bare minimum a functional economy should deliver. Yet we’ve been conditioned to treat stability as success because for decades both major parties have tiptoed around corporate power while leaving structural inequality intact.

In the most optimistic version of the next year or two, inflation continues drifting toward the Federal Reserve’s 2 percent target, wages grow modestly, and GDP holds steady around 2 percent. That’s the baseline many forecasters expect.

But this so-called “soft landing” doesn’t mean the economy suddenly becomes fair. It just means we avoid a recession.

Even in this best-case world, the cost of living stays punishingly high. Housing affordability remains in crisis. Healthcare remains a luxury disguised as a necessity. And while corporate profits bounce upward — as they reliably do — wage growth for most workers lags behind real costs.

A soft landing for Wall Street is not the same as a soft landing for everyone else. The economy may stabilize, but inequality keeps widening.

2. The Most Likely Scenario: Patchwork Growth for a Patchwork Nation

The more realistic outlook is a lopsided, uneven expansion — a recovery where Wall Street thrives while Main Street treads water. GDP grows, but modestly. Inflation cools, but never for the things people need. Unemployment rises just enough to make workers afraid to push for better pay.

This “patchwork growth” won’t feel like a recovery to most Americans. Families will keep juggling second jobs, skipping medical care, and draining savings. Meanwhile, companies facing mild economic uncertainty will do what they always do: tighten hiring, cut hours, and funnel more money upward through stock buybacks.

And let’s be honest — this isn’t an accident. It’s the predictable outcome of an economic system that prioritizes shareholder value over human value. We’ve allowed an entire generation to grow up believing insecurity is the natural price of capitalism. It’s not. It’s a policy choice.

The most likely scenario is simple: uneven, unequal, and deeply fragile growth. GDP increases just enough to avoid panic — about 1.7% according to median forecasts — but not enough to lift the millions who have been treading water for years.  Inflation remains sticky at around 2.7–2.8%.  That may sound tolerable, but price increases for essentials — rent, utilities, groceries, childcare — hit harder and last longer for families who already sacrifice everything just to get by.

Businesses, spooked by political instability and global tensions, respond predictably: they slow hiring, squeeze workers, and avoid wage increases. Workers feel the pinch long before CEOs do. This is the “patchwork economy” we live in — where the wealthy enjoy record stock valuations while everyone else faces rising costs and shrinking options.

This is not economic inevitability. It is the predictable outcome of forty years of deregulation, tax cuts for the wealthy, union-busting, and a bipartisan refusal to invest in the social protections Americans need.

3. The Downside Scenario: A Slow-Motion Recession That Hits the Vulnerable First

If the economy slips, it won’t be CEOs or hedge fund managers who feel the pain. A “slow-motion recession” — the third scenario — would mean rising unemployment, shrinking paychecks, and a sharp decline in consumer spending. And once again, the people who already have the least will lose the most.

Working families, still recovering from decades of wage stagnation, have no cushion left. They’ve weathered a pandemic, inflation, housing spikes, and political dysfunction. A recession, even a mild one, could tip millions into crisis. And no one should be surprised: the economy has been built this way. Recession for workers is merely a quarterly inconvenience for the wealthy.

Yet the political class will inevitably lecture us about “belt-tightening” and “budget discipline” — as if families who skipped dental care, childcare, and vacations for the last five years have any belt left to tighten.

If inflation remains stubborn, or tariffs and interest-rate pressures collide, the economy could slip into what economists politely call a “mild recession.” This would mean layoffs, reduced hours, rising unemployment, and a renewed assault on household stability.

Several major economic surveys warn that under downside conditions, 2026 real GDP could drop toward 0.9%, with recession probability between 30 and 50 percent. Unemployment could push toward 5–6% — enough to tip millions into crisis.

But recessions in America are never evenly felt. The wealthy lose some stock value, perhaps delay a vacation. Meanwhile, working families cascade from “just keeping up” to “falling behind,” to “falling apart.”

No one should pretend this would be a surprise. When an entire economic system is built on low wages, high prices, and private profit, the people at the bottom are always the shock absorbers.

The Real Question: Who Is the Economy For?

Across these scenarios, one truth holds: America’s economy functions well for the top 10%, decently for the next 30%, and unpredictably or painfully for everyone else. That is not a natural phenomenon. That is the result of choices — deregulation, tax cuts for the wealthy, union-busting, underfunded social programs, and an economic ideology obsessed with markets but allergic to fairness.

A country as wealthy as the United States should not accept an economy where millions live on the brink even during “good times.” Stability for a few is not prosperity. Growth that bypasses working people is not success. And an economy that only thrives when inequality expands is not healthy — it is predatory.

The Work Ahead

If we want a future that doesn’t simply oscillate between fragile growth and preventable hardship, we need policies that center human well-being: strong labor protections, fair taxation, affordable housing, universal healthcare, and public investment that benefits communities rather than shareholders.

The choice isn’t between growth and fairness. The choice is between an economy built for everyone — and the economy we have now.

T. Michael Smith

wwwtmichaelsmith.com

Chief Justice John Roberts

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OLD and QUIRKY

From Conservative Strategist to Chief Justice of a Court He Can No Longer Control

For years, Chief Justice John Roberts was hailed—mostly by Beltway moderates desperate to find a “reasonable” conservative—as the last adult in the room. The sober institutionalist. The guardian of the Court’s legitimacy. The conservative who understood that you don’t burn the house down just because you finally got the matches.

But the truth is far less flattering: John Roberts didn’t save the Court from extremism. He midwifed it. He curated it. And now, like Dr. Frankenstein watching his monster rampage through the village, he’s horrified that he’s no longer the one in charge.

Roberts’ evolution isn’t a story of a principled jurist tempering his ideology. It’s the story of a Republican operative who spent decades dismantling democratic safeguards—voting rights, campaign finance limits, corporate accountability—only to recoil when a more radical generation of conservatives used those very tools to push the country off a cliff.

The Strategist Who Mistook Himself for a Statesman

Roberts rose through the conservative legal movement carefully, methodically, strategically. He wasn’t the bomb-thrower; he was the man smoothing the shrapnel, packaging hard-right outcomes in pretty, technocratic prose. His entire judicial philosophy was camouflage: causing massive ideological shifts, but made them look modest.

His decision in Shelby County v. Holder—gutting the Voting Rights Act—was a masterpiece of this dreary craft. He pretended that racial discrimination in voting had magically evaporated, then acted shocked when states sprinted to reinstate voter suppression laws.

This was Roberts’ signature: deregulate the powerful, weaken protections for vulnerable communities, and then express mild surprise when the powerful seize even more power.

Then Came the Monster He Helped Build

For a decade, Roberts controlled the Court by managing Justice Kennedy’s ego and projecting a veneer of institutional neutrality. But once the far-right legal movement captured the Court outright—with Gorsuch, Kavanaugh, and Barrett—Roberts became irrelevant.

And nothing infuriates a man like Roberts more than being irrelevant.

Suddenly he was the “moderate,” not because he changed, but because the rest of the conservative bloc stopped pretending. They didn’t care about incrementalism. They didn’t care about public trust. They didn’t care about Roberts’ obsession with legitimacy. They wanted maximalist rulings, and they wanted them now.

Dobbs was the humiliation heard round the world. Roberts begged for a “compromise,” a middle-ground fantasy where abortion rights could be gutted but not eradicated. The new majority waved him off like an annoyed parent. They had the votes, and they were done with Roberts’ slow-drip revolution.

Roberts Wants to Save the Court From a Crisis He Caused

Roberts keeps warning that the Court risks losing the public’s trust—as if he had no role in setting the stage for its collapse. It was Roberts who weakened the Voting Rights Act. Roberts who empowered billionaire donors in Citizens United. Roberts who shielded corporate interests repeatedly. Roberts who insisted, with a straight face, that the Court is not political even as he stacked the deck for conservative victories.

And now he wants to play umpire while the game burns down.

Roberts didn’t lose control of the Court because he’s a moderate; he lost control because the right-wing legal movement he nurtured no longer needs his caution or his respectability. They have the majority. They have power. And the mask—his mask—is off.

Roberts’ Legacy Is the Court’s Crisis

History won’t remember Roberts as the savior of judicial legitimacy. It will remember him as the architect of the Court’s collapse into partisanship—a man who spent years quietly eroding the foundation of democracy only to be shocked when the roof finally caved in.

He wanted to steer a conservative revolution from the comfort of technocratic respectability. Instead, he built a machine that outran him. He fed the beast, and now it answers to someone else.

John Roberts evolved, all right—not into a moderate, but into a cautionary tale: a conservative who played with fire, insisted it was safe, and now stands in the ashes pretending not to smell the smoke.

T. Michael Smith

wwwtmichaelsmith.com

How Citizens United Broke America’s Democracy

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OLD and QUIRKY

Why the Billionaires Want You to Forget It

There are a lot of villains in the slow-motion sabotage of American democracy, but few have done more damage—with such smug self-righteousness—than the Supreme Court’s conservative majority in Citizens United v. FEC. With a single ruling, they didn’t just unleash corporate money into politics. They handed the keys of American democracy to the ultra-wealthy and told the rest of us to enjoy the ride.

The right loves to blame polarization, misinformation, even “wokeness” for the chaos in politics. But let’s be honest: the rot set in when the Court declared that corporations are political actors with constitutional rights and billionaires can drown the public square in money if they call it “independent spending.”

It was the judicial equivalent of opening all the vaults on Wall Street and telling the bankers, “Go wild.” And they did.

A Democracy of Donors, Not Voters

Since the ruling, politics has become a playground for the richest Americans—a system where a handful of billionaires can bankroll entire elections, sculpt policy, and effectively decide who even gets a shot at running for office. Working people donate in $20 increments: Sheldon Adelson and Michael Bloomberg toss in $100 million like they’re tipping a bartender.

This isn’t free speech. It’s financial dominance.

The conservative justices insisted that unlimited spending would not corrupt politics because it was technically “independent.” That’s like claiming a hurricane isn’t dangerous because the wind and water don’t officially coordinate. The reality is obvious: when politicians know a super PAC can vaporize their career with a tsunami of attack ads, they behave accordingly. It’s silent extortion, baked into the system.

Dark Money: The Shadow Government

Worse still, Citizens United opened the floodgates for dark money—funds from anonymous donors funneled through nonprofits that exist solely to hide who’s really pulling the levers.

These groups bankroll everything:

  • judicial confirmation blitzes
  • anti-union campaigns
  • disinformation networks
  • climate denial operations
  • statewide ballot fights
  • and candidate-centered propaganda masquerading as “issue ads”

It’s a shadow government with no accountability and no transparency, operating because five justices thought disclosure requirements might “chill speech.” What it chills is democracy.

Policy Written for the Few, Paid for by the Few

There’s a reason Congress can’t pass wildly popular policies like taxing billionaires, raising wages, strengthening unions, or protecting abortion rights. Donors don’t want them.

There’s a reason fossil fuel companies keep winning legislative battles even as the planet burns. Donors pay handsomely for political insulation.

There’s a reason health care remains a corporate profit engine instead of a public good. Dark money groups fueled by insurance executives spend tens of millions to ensure nothing changes.

This is not dysfunction. It’s design.

Public Trust Has Collapsed—and That Was the Point

Americans know the system is rigged. They feel it every time a policy with 70–80% support dies in committee while billionaires get another round of tax cuts. They see it when candidates who appeal to grassroots voters get buried under a flood of super PAC money.

The right often accuses the left of being cynical about institutions. But cynicism didn’t break our faith in democracy. Citizens United did.

The Billionaires Don’t Want Reform—They Want Silence

Every time someone proposes overturning Citizens United, strengthening disclosure laws, or implementing public financing, the same chorus emerges: “You’re trying to limit speech.”

No. We’re trying to resurrect democracy from the ruins your “speech” left behind.

The truth is simple: the only people who benefit from Citizens United are the people with enough money to buy political power. Everyone else pays the price—in weaker protections, broken institutions, and a political system that treats citizens like spectators instead of participants.

It Has to End

A democracy cannot survive when the wealthiest Americans have more political influence than millions of voters combined. The idea that corporations are people with constitutional rights is a lie. The idea that billionaires’ spending is harmless is a fantasy. And the idea that this system is sustainable is delusional.

Citizens United must be overturned—by constitutional amendment, by new disclosure laws, or by a Court that finally remembers democracy matters more than donor privileges.

Until then, the United States will remain a country where elections are technically free, but political power is anything but.

T. Michael Smith

wwwtmichaelsmith.com

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

THE SHUTDOWN

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HEALTH CARE OR HOSTAGE POLITICS?

The American Paradox: Paying More for Less in Health and Happiness

America prides itself on innovation, progress, and choice — yet nowhere is the contrast between promise and performance more glaring than in healthcare. The United States spends nearly twice as much per person on medical care as any other developed nation, but Americans live shorter, sicker lives. This paradox — paying more but getting less — lies at the heart of the nation’s struggle with health, cost, and quality of life.

The Price of a Broken System

The United States devotes roughly 17% of its gross domestic product to healthcare, compared to 9%–11% in most advanced economies. On a per-person basis, Americans spend around $13,000 annually, while citizens of Germany, France, or Japan pay closer to $6,000. Those figures would be less concerning if they bought better results — but they don’t.

The problem is not medical technology or clinical skill; American hospitals are among the most advanced in the world. The problem is structure. The U.S. system is fragmented — a patchwork of private insurers, public programs, and employer-based plans riddled with administrative complexity. Paperwork, billing disputes, and insurance red tape account for an estimated 25% of all healthcare spending. Drug prices are unregulated, hospital costs opaque, and the price of a routine procedure can vary wildly from one state — or even one hospital — to another.

Meanwhile, tens of millions remain uninsured or underinsured, facing sky-high deductibles or bills that can wipe out savings overnight. No other developed nation tolerates this level of financial insecurity from illness. Medical debt is the leading cause of personal bankruptcy in the United States — a concept almost unheard of in countries with universal coverage.

The Cost of Inequality

Healthcare in America mirrors the inequality that defines so much of its economy. Access to quality care often depends on income, employment, and geography. Wealthy Americans can buy concierge care and immediate access to specialists, while working-class families struggle to afford even routine checkups. Rural areas, in particular, face hospital closures and physician shortages that leave millions without access to any healthcare.

This inequality directly shapes outcomes. Life expectancy in the United States is now about 77 years, compared to 82 in Canada, France, or Sweden. Infant mortality — a key measure of public health — is nearly double that of most European nations. Chronic diseases such as diabetes, heart disease, and obesity are more prevalent, particularly among lower-income Americans who face barriers to preventive care and healthy living conditions.

When public health is determined by wealth, freedom of choice becomes an illusion. Americans are told they have “choice” in their health system — yet millions must choose between medicine and rent, between therapy and groceries. That is not freedom; it’s a failure of priorities.

Other Nations, Other Models

Contrast this with countries that have made healthcare a social right rather than a market commodity. Nations like Germany, the Netherlands, and Japan operate hybrid systems where private insurers exist but under strict government regulation. Prices are negotiated nationally, administrative costs are kept low, and coverage is universal.

The United Kingdom and Canada use more centralized systems, providing care through public financing with private delivery. In both, patients can see a doctor without fearing a financial catastrophe. There may be longer waits for non-urgent surgeries, but for emergencies and essential care, access is fast, fair, and free at the point of service.

The result? Higher satisfaction, better outcomes, and longer lives. Citizens of these countries report lower stress around healthcare, and governments spend less while achieving more. Preventive medicine is prioritized, public health campaigns are well-funded, and mental health is integrated into a broader system rather than treated as an afterthought.

Debate Over the Affordable Care Act

Fifteen years after its passage, the Affordable Care Act (ACA) remains one of the most transformative and fiercely debated laws in American history. It expanded health coverage, reined in insurance company abuses, and gave millions of Americans the peace of mind that an illness wouldn’t lead to bankruptcy.

Yet, in 2025, the same political forces that tried to destroy the law for over a decade are once again using it as a bargaining chip—shutting down the government rather than fund the very subsidies that keep health care affordable for working families.

This latest standoff in Washington isn’t about fiscal responsibility. It’s about ideology. The subsidies at stake are not handout, they are lifelines. They allow teachers, construction workers, small business owners, and countless others to afford private insurance through ACA marketplaces. Cutting them would send premiums skyrocketing and force millions back into the ranks of the uninsured. That’s not reform; that’s cruelty disguised as conservatism.

Supporters of the ACA understand what’s really at stake: the basic idea that access to health care should not depend on wealth, luck, or political winds. The federal subsidies, strengthened during the pandemic, have proven that smart government action can make a real difference in people’s lives. They lowered costs, stabilized markets, and helped reduce the uninsured rate to historic lows. Rolling them back would undo years of progress—and for what? To make a partisan point?

Opponents of the ACA insist the government can’t afford these subsidies, yet they have no problem defending massive tax cuts for corporations or bloated defense budgets. Their outrage over “government spending” seems oddly selective. When it comes to helping ordinary Americans stay healthy, suddenly the federal purse strings must tighten. But when it comes to subsidies for the wealthy or defense contractors, the deficit mysteriously disappears from the conversation.

Let’s be clear: shutting the government down over ACA funding isn’t fiscal prudence—it’s political hostage-taking. The shutdown will harm the economy, disrupt essential services, and delay paychecks for federal workers, all to deny millions of Americans the help they need to pay for health insurance. It’s a reckless move that reveals more about Washington’s dysfunction than about any real concern for the national budget.

The Affordable Care Act is far from perfect, but it’s progress—tangible, measurable progress. It’s the closest the United States has come to recognizing health care as a right, not a privilege. It has survived repeal efforts, court challenges, and misinformation campaigns because it works. People can see it in their medical bills, their coverage, and their security.

The current debate exposes a stark truth: one side is trying to govern, and the other is trying to sabotage. The choice facing Congress is not about numbers on a balance sheet; it’s about values. Do we continue to support affordable health care for millions, or do we let partisan extremism dismantle one of the most significant social advances in modern history?

The Affordable Care Act has already proven its worth. It’s time for lawmakers to stop playing politics with people’s health—and start acting like the lives of their constituents matter.

The American Choice

America’s health crisis is not inevitable. It is the product of choices — policy choices that favor profit over prevention, competition over coordination, and complexity over compassion. Reforming this system will require confronting powerful industries, from insurance conglomerates to pharmaceutical giants. But it will also demand a cultural shift: to view health not as a personal luxury, but as a public good.

The irony is that the U.S. already leads the world in medical research, biotechnology, and innovation. What it lacks is a delivery system that shares those benefits equitably. Americans could have a healthcare system as modern and humane as their technology allows — if only the political will matched the scientific talent.

Conclusion: A Better Return on Life

Every nation reflects its values in how it treats its people when they are most vulnerable. The United States currently delivers the most expensive care with some of the weakest public outcomes among its peers. Other nations have proven that universal access, cost control, and a commitment to prevention lead not only to healthier citizens but also to happier, more secure societies.

If America wants to improve its quality of life, it doesn’t need to spend more — it needs to spend smarter. Health should be treated not as a commodity to be bought, but as a foundation of freedom itself.

Until that shift occurs, the richest nation on Earth will continue to buy the world’s costliest healthcare — and live shorter, more anxious lives because of it.

T. Michael Smith

Wwwtmichaelsmith.com

The Supreme Court’s Shadow Docket: Democracy in the Dark

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The Supreme Court was once the guardian of reasoned justice — a deliberative institution where arguments were heard, opinions were written, and the public could see the logic behind the law. But that vision of the Court is fading fast. In its place stands a majority that increasingly prefers to rule from the shadows, using a secretive mechanism known as the shadow docket to impose sweeping policy decisions without explanation or accountability.

The “shadow docket” sounds mysterious because it is. It refers to the Court’s use of emergency orders — often unsigned, unexplained, and issued in the dead of night — that bypass the normal judicial process. No hearings. No briefs. No transparency. Yet these shadow rulings have decided some of the most consequential issues of our time: immigration, voting rights, reproductive freedom, and public health.

And the justices most eager to use this power sit on theCourt’s conservative wing.

Under Chief Justice John Roberts and his Trump-appointed colleagues — Gorsuch, Kavanaugh, and Barrett — the shadow docket has become a tool for ideological activism masquerading as judicial restraint. Time and again, the conservative majority has used it to quietly deliver victories for right-wing causes while avoiding the public scrutiny that comes with full opinions.

Consider how the Court let Texas’s infamous abortion law, SB 8, take effect in 2021. Without a single oral argument or written justification, the Court’s conservative bloc allowed a law that effectively banned abortions after six weeks to stand. Women’s rights were stripped away overnight — not through a landmark ruling, but through a midnight order.

Or look at voting rights. The shadow docket has been used to reinstate gerrymandered maps and restrictive election laws, often just before an election. Each time, the Court hides behind procedural language about “emergency relief,” but the effect is unmistakable: less access to the ballot for communities of color and more entrenchment for Republican-controlled legislatures.

And while conservatives decry “unelected judges” when liberal rulings displease them, they have no problem using unelected justices to reshape American life from the shadows. This is not judicial humility — it’s power politics cloaked in Latin.

The danger of the shadow docket is not only that it produces bad rulings, but that it erodes public trust in the Court itself. When the majority uses unsigned, unexplained orders to make major legal changes, it sends a clear message: the Court’s power is absolute, and the public has no right to question it. That’s not the rule of law. That’s judicial supremacy.

Democracy cannot function when the most powerful court in the country operates like a political backroom. If the conservative justices believe their decisions are justified, they should have the courage to explain them. Hiding behind the shadow docket betrays both the spirit of the Constitution and the trust of the people.

The Supreme Court’s authority depends on legitimacy — on the belief that its rulings flow from law, not ideology. But every time the conservative majority governs from the shadows, that legitimacy fades a little more. The justices may win their battles for now, but in the long run, they are burning down the very credibility that gives their power meaning.

It’s time to drag the Court back into the light.

T. Michael Smith

wwwtmichaelsmith.com

INSIDERS RULE

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Behind the public drama of politics, three powerful insiders—Russell Vought, Stephen Miller, and Pete Hegseth—are quietly reshaping how America is governed. Through budgetary control, ideological messaging, and military command, they are centralizing executive power and transforming democratic institutions from within.

The Impact of Russell Vought, Stephen Miller, and Pete Hegseth

In American politics, power often hides behind the curtain. The figure at the podium is rarely the only force directing the show. Today, three men—Russell Vought, Stephen Miller, and Pete Hegseth—are shaping the contours of government in ways more consequential than any press briefing or campaign rally could convey. They are the insiders of a movement that seeks to refashion not just policies but the very machinery of governance. Together, they represent a new breed of political operator: ideological, disciplined, and determined to subordinate the federal bureaucracy, the military, and the rule of law to a single, commanding vision of executive supremacy.

Russell Vought: The Bureaucratic Revolutionary

Russell Vought, Office of Management and Budget (OMB) director and current architect of the administration’s institutional redesign, operates with a precision born of bureaucratic mastery. His influence extends beyond spreadsheets and budget charts; he is the administrative mind behind what might be called the “restorationist” project—an effort to reclaim the executive branch from what he calls the “deep state.”

Vought has made no secret of his disdain for the permanent civil service. He once said that career bureaucrats should “wake up demoralized,” viewing them as obstacles to the will of the people rather than instruments of democratic governance. His Center for Renewing America, a policy hub that grew out of the Project 2025 blueprint, preaches a mission of cultural and bureaucratic purification—firing, defunding, or dismantling agencies that resist ideological alignment.

Through OMB’s power of the purse, Vought wields quiet but devastating influence. By redirecting grants, freezing disfavored programs, and using impoundment tactics that test the boundaries of congressional authority, he can starve the government’s watchdogs while feeding politically compliant agencies. His budgetary maneuvers operate in the shadows, invisible to the public but transformative in effect. It is governance by attrition—a war on the bureaucracy fought with spreadsheets and rulebooks.

The danger in Vought’s project is not just its ideological bent but its structural audacity. If the executive branch can starve parts of itself without oversight, Congress becomes ornamental. The balance of powers begins to tip, not through coup or crisis, but through the slow erosion of institutional muscle.

Stephen Miller: The Ideologue as Architect

If Vought is the tactician, Stephen Miller is the ideologue. For nearly a decade, Miller has supplied the movement with its defining rhetoric—its story of siege, crisis, and moral war. His fingerprints are on nearly every hardline immigration and security policy of recent years, but his influence runs deeper than policy. He is the voice that tells a particular faction of America that they are losing their country, and that only strongmen and exceptional measures can save it.

Miller’s genius lies in framing every policy dispute as a battle for civilization itself. Court rulings, media criticism, or congressional oversight are not seen as democratic processes but as existential assaults. In this narrative, compromise becomes betrayal, and resistance is treason.

This rhetoric has policy consequences. When officials are described as “enemies within,” it justifies purges. When judicial constraints are recast as “insurrection,” it legitimizes executive defiance. Miller’s language—once dismissed as campaign bluster—now shapes the tone and tenor of actual governance. His worldview defines who belongs and who doesn’t, who deserves protection and who must be punished.

Even within Republican ranks, Miller’s absolutism has provoked anxiety. Some strategists warn that his style of politics—driven by confrontation rather than persuasion—risks alienating allies and moderates. Yet Miller’s influence persists because he has mastered the emotional grammar of populism. He gives moral urgency to the machinery Vought is re-engineering.

Pete Hegseth: The Soldier-Politician

Where Vought manipulates budgets and Miller molds narratives, Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth embodies the movement’s muscle. A former Army officer and Fox News commentator, Hegseth has redefined the Pentagon’s mission to align with culture-war politics. His rhetoric is steeped in calls for a return to “warrior ethos” and a purge of what he derides as “woke” ideology.

Under Hegseth’s leadership, the military’s focus has shifted from global alliances toward internal purification. He has removed diversity, equity, and inclusion offices, disciplined officers deemed politically disloyal, and re-centered defense discourse around patriotism, masculinity, and obedience. In public speeches, Hegseth often warns that the “real threats” to America are not foreign adversaries but internal decay—an argument that edges dangerously close to politicizing the military itself.

Recent controversies surrounding leaked internal communications—revealing the sharing of sensitive operational details on private channels—highlight the erosion of professional norms within the defense establishment. The line between civilian control of the military and partisan mobilization is thinning. When the Pentagon becomes a stage for ideological cleansing, the apolitical character of the armed forces—the bedrock of American stability—comes under strain.

Hegseth’s impact is not only operational but symbolic. He represents the militarization of political identity—the idea that loyalty and strength outweigh process and pluralism. That ethos, once confined to cable talk shows, is now shaping command decisions and promotions.

The Triad of Power

Individually, Vought, Miller, and Hegseth wield immense influence within their domains. Collectively, they represent a coherent strategy: to consolidate executive authority, neutralize bureaucratic resistance, and reframe democracy as a struggle between patriots and traitors.

Their methods intersect. Miller provides the moral justification; Vought designs the bureaucratic architecture; Hegseth enforces the cultural and military discipline. The result is a kind of ideological fusion—one that sees government not as a pluralistic arena of negotiation, but as a unified instrument of will.

In this configuration, checks and balances are not safeguards but obstacles. Independent agencies, congressional oversight, and judicial review are recast as forms of sabotage. The traditional American notion of governance—built on deliberation and dispersed power—gives way to a more centralized, combative model: rule by command rather than consent.

The Risks Ahead

The genius of this insider movement lies in its subtlety. There is no overt coup, no tanks in the streets. Instead, there is administrative attrition, rhetorical escalation, and institutional corrosion. It is power exercised through procedures, not proclamations.

The immediate consequence is polarization, but the long-term danger is institutional fatigue. A government demoralized and distrusted cannot sustain itself indefinitely. Bureaucrats stripped of independence become servants of the moment. Generals politicized by ideology lose credibility with the public. And when every opponent is treated as an enemy, democracy becomes indistinguishable from permanent war.

There are, of course, countervailing forces—career officials who resist unlawful orders, courts that push back, and citizens who still believe in pluralism. But the burden of resistance has shifted from institutions to individuals. The system that once protected itself now depends on the courage of those within it.

Conclusion: The Architecture of Control

Russell Vought, Stephen Miller, and Pete Hegseth are not fringe figures; they are the governing class of a movement intent on remaking the American state in its own image. They wield ideology as strategy and bureaucracy as weapon. Their goal is not just to win elections but to rewire government itself—to replace institutional balance with ideological purity.

The story of these insiders is a reminder that democracies rarely fall in dramatic fashion. More often, they are remodeled from within—one regulation, one firing, one speech at a time. The question now is not whether their influence will endure, but how much of the old constitutional order will remain when they are done.