ICE Is A Threat To The American Way

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

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

Are We Losing the Free Press?


The question sounds alarmist, until you look closely at what’s happening.

The United States still has newspapers, cable networks, podcasts, newsletters, and social feeds overflowing with information. Journalists still expose corruption and challenge power. And yet something essential is eroding. Not all at once, not by government decree, but through pressure, consolidation, intimidation, and a growing public tolerance for lies.

The greatest threat to the free press today is not outright censorship. It is slow suffocation.

A free press depends on three pillars: independence, economic viability, and public trust. All three are under attack.

Start with economics. Local journalism, the unglamorous backbone of democratic accountability, has been gutted. Thousands of local newspapers have disappeared. Many survivors are “ghost papers,” skeletal operations where a handful of reporters cover entire regions.  The Roanoke Times is a prime example. Hedge funds and private equity firms have treated newsrooms as assets to be stripped rather than civic institutions to be sustained. When school boards, police departments, and city halls go uncovered, corruption doesn’t need to be hidden. It simply goes unnoticed.

At the national level, market pressures take a different form. Ratings, clicks, and virality increasingly drive coverage decisions. Outrage outperforms nuance. Conflict spreads faster than context. Even responsible outlets feel pulled toward spectacle, crowding out the slow, expensive investigative reporting that holds power to account.

Then there is politics—and here the danger becomes explicit. In recent years, journalism itself has been deliberately delegitimized. “Fake news” is no longer a critique of errors; it is a cudgel used to discredit any reporting that threatens those in power. Reporters are labeled “enemies of the people.” Media outlets are targeted for retaliation. Lawsuits are filed not to win, but to intimidate.

This rhetoric has consequences. When journalists are cast as traitors, harassment and threats follow. When lies are rebranded as “alternative facts,” truth itself becomes partisan. The aim is not to persuade the public of a single false narrative, but to exhaust people into cynicism—to convince them that no source is trustworthy, that nothing can be known. In that fog, accountability collapses.

Media consolidation compounds the damage. A shrinking number of corporations control much of what Americans see and hear, narrowing perspectives and increasing vulnerability to political and advertiser pressure. At the same time, social media platforms—now primary news sources for millions—are governed by opaque algorithms that reward engagement over accuracy and amplify misinformation at scale. These companies are not bound by journalistic ethics, yet they function as gatekeepers of public discourse.

The final pillar, public trust, has fractured along partisan lines. Too many Americans now choose news the way they choose teams—seeking affirmation rather than understanding. This breakdown did not happen by accident; it has been cultivated. When trust collapses, the press loses not just credibility, but its democratic function.

So, are we losing the free press? Not yet. But we are testing how much damage it can absorb.

History shows that press freedom rarely vanishes overnight. It erodes gradually—through economic starvation, legal intimidation, consolidation, algorithmic distortion, and the normalization of lies. Democracies do not usually silence journalists first; they teach citizens to stop listening to them.

Defending a free press requires more than ritual praise. It means supporting local journalism, enforcing antitrust laws, protecting reporters from harassment, demanding accountability from social media platforms, and cultivating a public culture that values truth even when it is uncomfortable.

A free press is not a partisan weapon or a cultural luxury. It is democratic infrastructure, as essential as courts or elections. When it weakens, every other institution becomes easier to corrupt.

The real question is not whether we are losing the free press. It is whether we will recognize what is happening—and act—before the loss becomes irreversible.

T. Michael Smith

wwwtmichaelsmith

Understanding Affordability

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

America’s Economy Is Growing

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

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

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

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?

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?

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