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SURVIVAL IS NOT A THEORY

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IT IS A FACT OF EVERYDAY LIFE

Survival is not a theory (Rev Jen Raffensperger- Unitarian Universalist Church of Roanoke). It is not an abstract concept relegated to think-tank reports or academic debates. It is lived in real time by mothers dropping their kids off at school, by workers juggling multiple jobs to pay rent, and by communities watching federal agents descend into their streets with overwhelming force. In Minneapolis this winter, this basic truth was laid bare with tragic clarity.


When an Immigration and Customs Enforcement agent fatally shot 37-year-old Renée Good during a federal enforcement operation in Minneapolis on January 7, the incident sent shock waves through the city. Good, a U.S. citizen and mother of three, was killed near Portland Avenue South amid a surge of federal agents deployed to carry out immigration actions—part of a larger campaign known locally as “Operation Metro Surge.”


Local leaders and civil rights advocates have raised alarm over the heavy-handed approach. Video and eyewitness accounts contradicted initial federal claims that Good posed an imminent threat, with many describing her as trying to move away from agents when she was shot multiple times. Protests erupted, challenging not just the specific use of force, but the broader role of ICE in communities already burdened by economic insecurity and racial inequity.


This tragedy in Minneapolis illustrates a painful reality: enforcement policies that treat immigration, poverty, and policing as separate challenges ultimately compound trauma for the more vulnerable populations. In neighborhoods where wages lag behind the cost of living and opportunities are scarce, survival is not something people theorize about—it’s something they struggle for every day. Yet when federal and local authorities respond to desperation and informal economies with tactical deployments and steel-toed enforcement, they risk turning survival itself into a criminal act.

ICE’s increased presence in Minneapolis did not happen in a vacuum. Advocates have criticized tactics ranging from expansive surge deployments to controversial detentions of children and parents, raising fears that enforcement has become punitive rather than protective. Another American was killed in Minneapolis, Alex Pretti. ICE agents shot him after wrestling him to the ground.


Policing poverty with force only deepens mistrust. When federal agents operate alongside local police without clear oversight or accountability, the message is chilling: struggle for survival at your own risk. Families scrambling to make ends meet see school attendance drop amid fear of raids. Community members hesitate to seek help, fearful that any interaction with law enforcement could escalate into something worse. And when incidents like Good’s and Pretti’s killing occur, local authorities and residents are left demanding transparency while federal agencies retreat behind outright lies and claims of immunity and jurisdiction.


Survival cannot be secured through deterrence or deterrence by force. Treating migration and poverty as problems to be policed rather than conditions to be addressed only shifts the burden onto people least equipped to bear it. Minneapolis—still scarred by past trauma and divisions—now grapples with the consequences of a system that has chosen militarized enforcement over humane policy.


What Minneapolis needs—and what every community struggling under poverty and immigration stress deserves—is investment in human infrastructure: housing, livable wages, healthcare, schools, and legal pathways that respect dignity. It means disentangling community safety from punitive policing models and rejecting the notion that survival must be negotiated through fear. Courageous cities and countries that have tackled poverty with social programs rather than handcuffs have seen crime and instability decrease, not increase.


Survival is not a theory. It is the most basic affirmation of human dignity. Any society that treats it as optional or negotiable, that responds to hardship with militarized force, has already failed the people it professes to serve. Our response to tragedy—whether in Minneapolis or communities nationwide—must be rooted in justice, accountability, and a recognition that people’s lives are not collateral in a political strategy.


T. Michael Smith
wwwtmichaelsmith.com

ICE Is A Threat To The American Way

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Reform or Abolition Is the Only Path to Preserving Our Democracy

In a healthy democracy, law enforcement exists to serve the public, protect rights, and operate under clear constraints. Immigration and Customs Enforcement—ICE—fails that test. While often defended as a necessary tool of sovereignty and rule of law, ICE as it currently operates undermines core democratic principles: due process, accountability, equal protection, and civilian trust in government.

This is not an argument against immigration law itself. Democracies have the right to regulate borders. But how those laws are enforced matters. ICE has evolved into an agency defined less by lawful administration than by deterrence through fear and violence—and that is fundamentally incompatible with democratic governance.

ICE was created in the aftermath of 9/11, folded into the new Department of Homeland Security during a moment of national trauma. That origin story matters. ICE inherited the logic of emergency powers: expansive discretion, secrecy, and an assumption that certain populations posed inherent threats. Two decades later, those assumptions remain embedded in the agency’s culture, even as the national emergency has long passed.

A Politicized Enforcer: Kristi Noem and ICE

Under the current administration, led by President Trump and Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem, ICE has become even more politicized and aggressive. Noem has publicly defended immigration enforcement actions that resulted in the fatal shooting of a U.S. citizen, framing the incident as justified and even characterizing it in militarized terms without independent investigation. Her department’s posture has shifted toward confronting domestic critics and expanding federal law enforcement deployments in cities like Minneapolis in the face of protests. This combative stance erodes public trust and signals that ICE’s neutral enforcement of law is but a tool of political theater and coercion, weaponized against dissent. The Trump administration is trying hard to project dictatorial strength and power, but the narrative is slipping away from it.

The Human Cost: Remembering Renee Good

The danger of ICE’s current posture is not abstract. On January 7, 2026, an ICE agent in Minneapolis shot and killed Renee Nicole Good, a 37-year-old mother of three, poet, and U.S. citizen, during an enforcement operation. Good was not being arrested or charged with any criminal offense at the time; video and eyewitness accounts indicate she was driving away when an ICE agent opened fire. This killing has sparked national outrage, widespread protests, and calls for independent investigation and accountability from lawmakers, local officials, and civil rights advocates. Good’s family has urged empathy and justice, emphasizing her role as a devoted mother and community member. In the wake of Good’s murder, the administration sent more agents to Minnesota in what appears to be an attempt to gin up protests that change the subject from Good’s murder and appear to justify ICE’s violence.

Her death is a stark reminder that enforcement without accountability can cost innocent lives—and destroy families. It raises urgent questions about the use of force by a domestic agency that should be focused on lawful, proportionate action, not militarized confrontation. Adding flame to the fire, President Donald J. Trump, Vice President J.D. Vance, and Secretary of Homeland Security Kristi Noem all defended her killing by calling Renee Good and her wife “domestic terrorists.”

ICE Undermines Democracy, Does Not Uphold It

Democracy depends on due process. Yet ICE operates in a legal system where civil detention can mean prolonged confinement without the full protection guaranteed in criminal court. People can be detained far from home, denied meaningful access to counsel, and deported through fast-track proceedings that prioritize speed over fairness. Legal residents, asylum seekers, and long-term community members are routinely swept into this system. When liberty can be taken without full constitutional safeguards, democracy is already in retreat.

ICE’s defenders often invoke public safety, but this claim collapses under scrutiny. The majority of ICE arrests are not of violent criminals but of people whose primary offense is a civil immigration violation. Meanwhile, evidence consistently shows that immigrant communities—documented or not—commit crimes at lower rates than native-born citizens. The agency’s most visible actions—workplace raids, courthouse arrests, and neighborhood sweeps—do not make communities safer. They make them quieter, more fearful, and less likely to cooperate with police or civic institutions.

Even more troubling is how easily ICE becomes a political instrument. Enforcement priorities swing wildly from one administration to the next, not because the law changes, but because presidential rhetoric does. This volatility reveals a deeper problem: ICE possesses enormous discretionary power with weak democratic oversight. In practice, that discretion allows immigration enforcement to be weaponized for political signaling—who belongs, who is suspect, who should be afraid.

Reform or Abolition: A Democratic Imperative

The public must confront a crucial question: Can ICE be reformed, or must it be abolished and replaced? Meaningful reform would require stripping the agency of its broad enforcement and detention authority, separating civil immigration administration from criminal investigation, and placing every enforcement action under clear judicial oversight. It would mandate full transparency and independent civilian review of uses of force, along with strict limits on civil detention and guaranteed legal representation in immigration proceedings.

But reform risks being superficial if the underlying culture of impunity remains. Abolition advocates argue that the functions ICE now performs—immigration processing, asylum adjudication, workplace compliance—should be transferred to civil, non-coercive agencies that operate with strict adherence to rights protections. Criminal investigations should remain with law enforcement agencies that are accountable, trained, and constrained by constitutional norms.

A democracy that enforces unjust systems unjustly erodes the legitimacy of law itself. Rule of law is not measured by how harshly a government can punish, but by how faithfully it protects rights while administering policy.

ICE, as it exists today, does not strengthen American democracy. It corrodes it. And until the United States is willing to reckon with that truth—through reform or abolition—tragedies like the killing of Renee Good will continue, and with them, the weakening of democratic ideals we claim to uphold.

T. Michael Smith

wwwtmichaelsmith.com

A DIVERSIONARY WAR

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You Can’t Bomb Your Way Out of Rent: What Really Forces Leaders Back to Domestic Reform

When domestic problems pile up—rising costs, broken institutions, political paralysis—leaders have a familiar escape hatch: look outward. Foreign crises, military posturing, and talk of national security can temporarily drown out questions about wages, housing, healthcare, and democratic accountability. History shows this tactic works just long enough to be tempting—and just long enough to do real damage.

The harder question isn’t why leaders distract. It’s what actually forces them back to governing at home. The answer is uncomfortable for those in power and clarifying for everyone else: leaders return to domestic reform only when avoidance becomes more costly than change.

That pressure does not come from speeches or slogans. It comes from forces that, when activated together, are impossible to ignore—starting with economic reality and electoral accountability.

Domestic economic pain—higher rents, stagnant wages, debt burdens—cannot be spun away. Foreign policy adventures are expensive, and even when wrapped in patriotic language, they rarely deliver quick relief for ordinary people. Eventually, budgets strain, infrastructure decays, and voters notice that the money spent abroad could have fixed things at home.

Elections also matter when they genuinely determine political fate. Voters may rally around flags and crises for a short time, but they care more about grocery bills and job stability. When people believe leadership can change and that their vote counts, domestic issues reassert themselves.

Nowhere is this dynamic clearer than in the Trump administration’s recent actions in Venezuela. The U.S. military operation that captured President Nicolás Maduro in early January, framed as a strike against narco-terrorism, seized global attention and deeply divided Americans along partisan lines. Many Republicans cheered the move as a bold assertion of U.S. strength; many Democrats and independents condemned it as an illegal intervention that bypassed Congress and violated international norms. Early polling shows a stark split: roughly two-thirds of Republicans support the action, while only about one in seven Democrats do—and most Americans believe Congress should have been consulted first.

Critics on both the left and right have accused the White House of using Venezuela as a diversionary tactic—a way to shift public attention away from deep economic anxieties, congressional dysfunction, corruption scandals, and domestic policy failures. Comparisons have been made to historic cases where foreign policy was used to try to deflect from internal problems, with strategists explicitly suggesting that dramatic military moves can serve as a political smoke screen.

Oil makes diversion more effective because it affects everyone’s life. Oil is uniquely useful in this context. Gas prices, heating costs, and inflation are immediately felt by voters. Linking a foreign action to the diversion gives leaders a concrete justification that resonates more than abstract ideology.

The timing and presentation of the Venezuela operation fit a pattern seen in U.S. politics before: rally support with talk of national security, justify extraordinary action with moral language, and hope that media cycles focus on external enemies more than internal failures. When oil reserves—like Venezuela’s vast fields, which are now at the center of strategy and controversy—enter the mix, foreign policy gains an economic gloss that resonates with some voters even as it distracts from domestic debates about inflation and labor conditions.

 The diversion never lasts. What forces leaders back to domestic reform—economic pain that cannot be ignored, elections that matter, elite repudiation, institutional resistance, and public exhaustion—cannot be sidestepped by spectacle alone. People don’t want permanent resistance; they want competence and stability. Housing, healthcare, and wages become paramount. When voters connect foreign spending to domestic neglect, reform becomes unavoidable—or leadership changes.

Elite defection is decisive when it happens: when business leaders, military professionals, and bureaucratic insiders quietly conclude that diversion costs more than accountability. Institutions like courts and legislatures don’t need to “win”—they only need to slow, expose, and delay. Public exhaustion matters too; permanent crisis politics collapses once citizens demand competence over chaos. Oil companies recognize the distractive nature of this action and are not willing to participate at this point.

What doesn’t work alone are moral outrage, hashtags on X, or viral moments. These fade unless they are connected to material consequences and institutional leverage. But the murder of an American citizen by an ICE agent could be that material consequence. Renee Nicole Good, a 37-year-old U.S. citizen and mother of three, was fatally shot by a U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agent Jonathan Ross during a federal immigration enforcement operation in south Minneapolis.  The incident has sparked widespread protests and political debate across the U.S., with thousands demonstrating against ICE’s presence and tactics, and lawmakers calling for independent investigations and greater accountability.

The uncomfortable truth is that domestic reform happens not because leaders “see the light,” but because: the cost of not reforming becomes higher than the cost of trying another diversion. Democracy survives when citizens, institutions, and economic realities make avoidance a non-starter. Change arrives because the country insists on it—and makes every other option impossible.

You can’t bomb your way out of rent or partisan dysfunction. You can’t sanction your way to affordable healthcare. And you can’t distract forever from a system that no longer delivers for working families.

Domestic reform comes when citizens make avoidance more costly than accountability. That’s when leaders are forced back to work on the problems that matter most.

T. Michael Smith

wwwtmichaelsmith.com

Understanding Affordability

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Why Does the Economy Feel Broken Even When the Numbers Say Otherwise?

Americans are told, repeatedly, that the economy is doing well. Unemployment is low. GDP grew at a robust 4.3 % in the third quarter of 2025, one of the fastest paces in years. Corporate profits are high, exports are rising, and consumer spending remains solid. And yet for millions of people, daily life feels more precarious, not less. Rents and home prices are still high. Health care costs are rising. Childcare is priced like a luxury. Even groceries and basic essentials put pressure on family budgets.

This disconnect isn’t imagined. It points to a deeper truth we rarely confront honestly: affordability is not the same thing as economic growth, and for decades our political and economic systems have prioritized the latter while neglecting the former.

Affordability is about power. It’s about whether wages keep pace with the costs people cannot avoid. It’s about whether consumption markets are structured to serve the public or to extract maximum profit. And it’s about political choices, who government protects, and who it leaves to fend for themselves.

Start with housing, the single largest expense for most households. Median homebuyer costs rose again in 2025, outpacing many wage gains, and rents continue to climb in most states. The Federal Housing Finance Agency’s price index shows house prices up 2.2 % year-over-year, continuing a long trend of growth.  Among the 100 largest regions in our country, 47 exceed this growth rate with some areas experiencing price growth as much as 7-9%.

Across the rental market, surveys suggest roughly 60 % of U.S. renters are “cost-burdened,” spending more than 30 % of their income on rent, with many spending around 40 %. That pressure contributes directly to economic anxiety and shrinking financial flexibility for working families.

Then there’s childcare, a cost many Americans now find more burdensome than rent in metro areas, particularly for families with multiple young children. According to recent data, the average price of childcare for two children in 2025 is roughly $29,100 per year, a 40 % increase since 2017 and significantly faster than median income growth. Child Care Aware of America’s national price data show that such costs would exceed the Department of Health and Human Services’ threshold for affordable care in most states.

Health care paints a similar picture. While official inflation numbers often headline modest increases, medical care costs are still rising faster than overall inflation, and many middle- and lower-income families are struggling with high premiums, deductibles, and out-of-pocket expenses. Reports note that insurance premiums for Affordable Care Act plans could nearly double next year as tax credits lapse, potentially pushing costs well beyond what many households can reasonably afford.

Meanwhile, necessities like food and energy have also risen faster than wages for many families, squeezing budgets from all sides. According to cost tracking studies, groceries have climbed by more than 30 % since 2019, while inflation-adjusted income gains lag slightly behind.

Defenders of the status quo often point to headline wage growth and low unemployment as proof that “things are getting better.” But averages hide reality. Many households are contending with rising costs well above inflation for essentials, while wage growth for lower- and middle-income workers remains tepid in real terms.

This is why affordability is fundamentally a political issue, not just an economic one. We have chosen deregulation over consumer protection, tax cuts over public investment, and corporate consolidation over competition. We have allowed monopolies to flourish, unions to weaken, and the social safety net to fray—all while insisting that the “free market” will somehow deliver fairness on its own.

It won’t. Markets reflect the rules we set. And right now, the rules are tilted toward those who already have the most.

A vision of affordability starts from a simple premise: people should be able to live with dignity from their work. That means raising wages and strengthening labor protections. It means building more housing and treating it as a public good. It means confronting price gouging and monopoly power. It means expanding health coverage and investing in childcare, so families aren’t forced to choose between work and care.

Affordability isn’t about handouts. It’s about whether an economy works for the many or the few. When people feel constantly squeezed, distrust grows toward institutions, toward government, and toward democracy itself. That anger doesn’t emerge in a vacuum; it’s the predictable outcome of an economy that produces abundance but distributes anxiety.

If we want to restore faith in our economic system, we need to stop congratulating ourselves on headline numbers and start asking a more basic question: can people afford to live?

Until the answer is yes, the economy is not truly strong—no matter what the charts say.

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

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

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

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.

The Pentagon’s New Marching Orders

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Pete Hegseth’s Hard Turn for the Military

OLD and QUIRKY

The American military is once again at a crossroads — not on a battlefield abroad, but in its identity at home. Secretary of War Pete Hegseth, never one to mince words, declared last week that “the era of the Department of Defense is over.” In its place, he said, comes a revived “War Department,” a return to first principles, a rejection of what he called the “distractions” of modern defense bureaucracy. The speech at Quantico was not just another policy rollout; it was an ideological thunderclap — signaling a transformation in tone, culture, and command that could reshape the U.S. military for decades.

Hegseth’s reforms are sweeping, symbolic, and deeply controversial. They reach into every corner of the armed forces — from fitness and grooming to whistleblower protections, from how leaders are promoted to how complaints are filed. To some, it’s the course correction the military needs: a return to discipline, merit, and focus on lethality. To others, it’s a retreat from oversight and inclusion — a rollback of hard-won reforms that kept abuse, discrimination, and cronyism in check.

Either way, Hegseth has declared war — not on a foreign enemy, but on the Pentagon as it has evolved since 1947.

Fitness First, and a “Male Standard” for Combat

The headline change, and the one most immediately felt in the ranks, is physical. Every active-duty service member will now be required to conduct daily physical training under command supervision. Fitness testing doubles to twice a year. All combat roles will now be measured by a single, gender-neutral — or, as Hegseth put it, “male” — standard. If that means no women qualify for certain positions, he said, “so be it.”

For decades, the services have struggled to balance inclusivity with readiness. The introduction of gender-neutral combat standards in recent years was meant to ensure fairness while maintaining rigor. Hegseth’s move tightens that further, eliminating any room for adjustment. Critics argue it will drive women out of elite units and further erode diversity in the ranks.

And it doesn’t stop there. The new rules ban beards (except in rare medical cases), reinstate strict height and weight requirements, and redefine what “fit to serve” looks like. Hegseth even shamed “fat generals and admirals” in his address — promising that senior leaders who cannot meet the same physical standards as their troops will be asked to step aside. The message was unmistakable: the military’s image begins with its waistline.

Supporters hail this as a long-overdue restoration of discipline. Detractors call it cosmetic authoritarianism — an obsession with appearance over substance, a morale-killing purge of good officers who may be strong leaders but not model athletes.

To Hegseth, this is a common-sense measure to restore accountability to commanders and curb what he calls “weaponized grievance culture.” To nearly every oversight expert and whistleblower advocate, it’s a direct threat to the integrity of the military justice system.

The Military Whistleblower Protection Act guarantees anonymity and procedural safeguards precisely because retaliation within the chain of command has long been a problem. Hegseth’s new system effectively puts the commander — not an independent investigator — back in control. Critics warn it will silence victims of harassment, discrimination, and abuse.

In one stroke, Hegseth has reframed what “accountability” means. For him, it’s about discipline from above. For those wary of power without checks, it’s a dangerous rollback.

From Defense to War: A Change in Philosophy

When Hegseth insists that “the era of the Department of Defense is over,” he’s not just playing with words. The rebranding to “War Department” — a revival of pre-World War II nomenclature — is a cultural and political declaration. It signals a military less concerned with diplomacy, diversity, and global engagement, and more fixated on lethality, hierarchy, and confrontation.

To Hegseth’s critics, it’s an attempt to militarize the military’s soul — stripping away decades of reform that recognized warfare’s human and moral complexity. To his supporters, it’s about cutting through bureaucratic fog and restoring warrior ethos.

In practice, the rebranding coincides with a purge of what Hegseth calls “non-essential priorities.” Training sessions on diversity, equity, inclusion (DEI) and climate resilience are being slashed. Civilian staff cuts are under way. Headquarters and commands are being merged. Four-star billets are being reduced by as much as 20 percent.

All of this fits Hegseth’s narrative: a leaner, meaner force, stripped of “political correctness” and focused on warfighting. But it also raises fundamental questions about whether he’s dismantling the very oversight and institutional knowledge that made the U.S. military both powerful and accountable.

Winners and Losers Across the Services

The effects won’t be evenly felt.

The Army and Marine Corps, long steeped in physical rigor, may adapt most easily. The Marine Corps’ ethos — “every Marine a rifleman” — dovetails neatly with Hegseth’s ideals. But even there, logistics and technical specialists will feel squeezed by standards that have little to do with their actual work.

The Navy faces a more fundamental clash. On ships and submarines, where many roles rely on technical skill rather than brute strength, imposing a “combat standard” risks losing talent. Beards, once tolerated on shore duty or for medical reasons, are now verboten. The Navy’s culture, already reeling from recent leadership shakeups, could be stretched thin.

The Air Force and Space Force, with their cyber and orbital missions, are even further removed from Hegseth’s warrior ideal. In these fields, mental acuity, not muscle, defines readiness. Forcing the same physical template across all branches could alienate technical experts and pilots alike.

Reservists and National Guard members will likely struggle most. Daily PT and twice-yearly tests are hard enough for active-duty personnel — far harder for part-time soldiers balancing civilian jobs. In the Guard, where standards vary by state, enforcement will be a logistical nightmare. These reforms may hit women hardest. Under the guise of equality, the “male standard” all but ensures fewer women in combat arms — and by extension, fewer in senior leadership down the road. Diversity, already fragile in many elite units, could plummet.

Minorities and those from lower-resource backgrounds may also be disproportionately affected. Physical readiness is not evenly distributed across society; access to training, nutrition, and recovery resources varies widely. A one-size standard ignores those disparities.

For technical and cyber specialists, the message is equally discouraging. Hegseth’s vision values warriors over wonks. Yet in an age when warfare is as much about data and code as bullets and bombs, sidelining technical expertise could undercut the very modernization the Pentagon needs.

The Cost of Command and Control

There’s also the issue of control — and secrecy. Reports suggest Hegseth plans to expand the use of non-disclosure agreements and even random polygraphs among senior staff to crack down on leaks. Combined with the new limits on complaints, the Pentagon risks becoming a more opaque, top-down organization.

That may please those who see leaks as betrayal. But it also concentrates power in fewer hands — and history shows that when oversight fades, corruption and abuse follow close behind.

The Meaning of “War” in 2025

Hegseth’s changes are more than managerial tweaks; they are philosophical. They redefine what the military is for — not just how it fights, but who it serves.

In his view, the armed forces have strayed too far into social engineering and away from the business of killing the enemy. “We are not a social experiment,” he said. “We are America’s warfighters.” That line drew cheers at Quantico — and alarm in Washington.

Because what Hegseth proposes is not simply reform, but reorientation: away from defense as deterrence, and toward defense as confrontation. Away from balance, and toward purity. It is, in short, a culture war within the military itself.

Marching Orders or Marching Backward?

Some of Hegseth’s goals — efficiency, readiness, accountability — are valid. The Pentagon is bloated, and endless PowerPoint briefings don’t win wars. But his methods risk collapsing the distinction between toughness and tyranny, between leadership and domination.

A military built only on obedience and uniformity may look sharper on parade — but it risks being duller in judgment. The strength of the U.S. military has always been its balance: discipline and innovation, hierarchy and conscience, lethality and humanity. If Hegseth forgets that, the war he wins on culture may be one the country loses in the long run. The secret imbeded in these changes may be that the militery leadership will be more willing to turn against the American people.