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The Major League Baseball Players Assn. is arguably the strongest union in the United States whose members include some of the most conservative athletes in professional sports. The owners of Major League Baseball’s 30 teams, who made their wealth through the workings of free enterprise capitalism, want to limit what players can be paid. This apparent political and philosophical irony will most likely lead to a shutdown of baseball at the end of this season.

Wednesday is opening day for the 162-game major league season. The 2025 season ended Nov. 1 with an 11-inning Dodgers victory over the Toronto Blue Jays in what was one of the most mesmerizing World Series ever. Last season, the Dodgers attracted more than 4 million fans for the first time. The Dodgers weren’t alone. More than 71 million fans attended major league games — the third straight season of growth. Over the last decade, league revenue has increased 33%.

And yet, despite all this good news about the health of baseball’s finances, team owners have threatened to lock the players out — essentially an ownership strike — at the end of this season over terms of a new collective bargaining agreement soon to be negotiated with the players union.

Major League Baseball, unlike the NFL, the NBA and the NHL, does not have a hard salary cap that limits what teams can spend on players. This is the key issue for the 30 team owners and Commissioner Rob Manfred, who argues that the system is “broken.” Small-market teams can’t effectively compete, Manfred insists, with economic behemoths like the Dodgers and Yankees. But over the past 10 seasons, 14 teams have made it to the World Series, so the league is not dominated by only a few big spenders.

Major leaguers and fans have weathered five player strikes and four owner lockouts since 1972. The 1994-95 strike lasted 232 days, canceling more than 900 games, including the World Series. Unlike in the NFL, where top players like San Francisco 49ers quarterback Joe Montana crossed a picket line during the 1987 NFL Players Assn. strike, unionized baseball players have remained united. So far, no star players have been strikebreakers in baseball. Both Paul Skenes of the Pittsburgh Pirates and Tarik Skubal of the Detroit Tigers — the 2025 Cy Young Award winners for their respective leagues — also serve in players union leadership roles.

A recent report analyzing major league ballplayers’ political affiliation found that among those who live in states that allow public access to voter registration records, nearly 54% of the players were Republicans compared with 8% Democrats. Why does a rightward-leaning membership retain such strong union loyalties?

For Miami Marlins pitcher Pete Fairbanks, who is also a member of the players union leadership, it comes down to recognizing that they stand on the shoulders of players who challenged the baseball establishment.

“If you look at the history of the union, we’ve had a foundation set for us,” Fairbanks said. “They fought for players’ rights and for the general betterment of the whole and it’s the job of the veteran players to pass that history on to the younger players.”

Marvin Miller, a former Steelworkers Union leader, revolutionized the players’ union and baseball when he led the association from 1966 to 1982. He told the New York Times in 1999 that he was “irked” that many players did not know that it was the union that made their enormous salaries and benefits, arbitration and free agency possible. “When you don’t know your history, you tend to relive it,” Miller said.

Miller, who died in 2012, was a labor history buff who realized that highly skilled workers often developed elaborate ethical codes that promoted solidarity with other employees.

Bruce Meyer, the current executive director of the players association, puts the union’s fractious history with the owners at the center of his communications with players. He spent weeks talking with union members during spring training in Florida and Arizona, emphasizing the importance of unity in the ranks. “The bottom line is that our players have always been of the view that they are fighting not just for themselves but for their teammates and for the players that come after them,” Meyer said.

Manfred’s strategy as commissioner of Major League Baseball has been to talk directly with the players himself, especially the lower-earning younger players who he claims are being shortchanged. He argues that “10% of our players make 72% of the money,” numbers that Meyer disputes.

The commissioner is essentially telling players that their union has engaged in malpractice, losing touch with its own members while the economics of baseball changed around them. Meyer regards Manfred’s attempt to divide players as “standard management-labor tactics.”

Top agent Scott Boras said that, unlike in the NFL, baseball’s open salary system works for players because “your talent allows you to earn what you can earn without taking money from anybody else’s pocket.”

Paradoxically, the union has embraced the principles of Adam Smith: Let the free market work. No one forced the Dodgers to pay Shohei Ohtani $700 million. Good for Ohtani, great for Dodger fans. And this year, the Japanese clothing retailer Uniqlo will be a field sponsor at Dodger Stadium. The owners, who embrace team revenue sharing and luxury taxes and demand restrictions on salary competition, sound like socialists.

When labor-management disputes interrupt baseball, many fans undoubtedly feel like they are victims of a squabble between “millionaires and billionaires.” Ryan Long, a 26-year-old minor league pitcher in the Baltimore Orioles system and a union leader, thinks the players association should try to understand how regular working people feel about a potential lockout. “Whether it’s people selling hot dogs at stadiums or cleaning rooms at local hotels, the union should help in whatever way it can for other workers who may be hurt if baseball shuts down,” he said.

In late February at the Yankees spring training field in Tampa, I spoke with season ticket holder Richard Barnitt, who wore a shirt designed like a baseball, looking like he could be scuffed up and pitched. “There has to be some kind of cap because the Dodgers and the New York Mets had unlimited money,” he said. Another fan, Carlos Rodriquez, an airplane mechanic living in Tampa, disagreed. “I don’t think a salary cap would be fair to the players,” he said. “The players association does magical work for those guys.”

If locked out, the players are going to want support from fans, to whom a salary cap might sound reasonable. Owners will do what owners do: maximize profits and franchise values. The players union should find ways to show the fans they are not forgotten.

During a previous owners lockout, the association created a million-dollar fund to help pay the bills of stadium concession workers who were thrown out of work. They can do the same again, letting fans know that they understand that most Americans struggle paycheck to paycheck. And maybe Ohtani can chip in a couple hundred bucks — like former Dodger Mike Piazza did decades ago — for each home run.

Kelly Candaele produced the documentary “A League of Their Own,” about his mother’s years playing in the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League.

When I read all the hype being heaped on Kamala Harris’ lead in early polls for the 2028 Democratic nomination, I have to chuckle to myself.

The release of a Rasmussen Reports poll in February was titled, “Kamala Harris Still Leads 2028 Field for Democrats.” One headline in the Hill predicted, “Kamala Harris may yet be the Democratic nominee in 2028.” A Washington Examiner piece about polling warned, “Democrats won’t get rid of Kamala Harris that easily for 2028.”

I chuckle not because I don’t believe the numbers, but because I don’t believe any poll this far out in an open contest is meaningful, let alone determinative. I’ve seen this movie before, and it didn’t end well.

In 2003, after managing the successful 2002 reelection campaign of California Gov. Gray Davis, I signed on as an advisor to the presidential campaign of Connecticut Sen. Joseph Lieberman — who, I needn’t remind anyone, had been the Democratic nominee for vice president in the 2000 election, which he and Al Gore lost in a nail-biter to George W. Bush.

Based simply on his high name identification from that hellzapoppin’ race, and the fact his name had been on the ballot in all 50 states just two years before, Lieberman initially led the Democratic field quite handily in almost every national poll.

An ABC News/Washington Post survey in January 2003 found Lieberman leading the Democratic field with 27%. A Gallup poll from that same month also placed him first, ahead of both John Kerry and Richard Gephardt.

A Pew poll in the summer of 2003 also found Lieberman atop the field, as the best-known candidate at 85% name recognition, and 58% support, ahead of Kerry, Gephardt and Howard Dean.

Boy, did we brag about Lieberman’s lead at every stop and in every press release. But in the end, the promising early numbers meant nothing. When actual votes were cast, Lieberman totally flamed out, receiving a measly 8.9% of the vote in the critical first primary in New Hampshire, finishing dead last, and dropping out of the race in February 2004, having lost every primary and caucus up to that point.

Why? A lot of reasons, including mistakes made by the candidate and campaign. But fundamentally because, when Democrats started to take a close look at and assess the full field, they relegated Lieberman to the status of a loser, and they wanted to move on. We heard a lot of, “He had his chance and lost.” Does Harris come to mind?

The fact is, we Democrats tend to put defeated presidential nominees in the rear-view mirror pretty quickly. Think of Michael Dukakis, Gore and Kerry. And let’s not forget, Harris obtaining the nomination in 2024 was a fluke; she didn’t compete in one primary or receive one primary vote. The first time she ran for president, in the 2020 cycle, she also didn’t win one primary or receive a single primary vote, because she ran a bad campaign and hightailed it out of the race before a single vote was cast. Two strikes and you’re out?

We Democrats just don’t renominate losers. The last time we did it was exactly 70 — yes, 70 — years ago, with Adlai Stevenson in 1956 after he had lost the 1952 presidential race to Dwight Eisenhower. Stevenson rewarded Democrats for this recycling effort by losing to Eisenhower a second time — by an even worse margin. Democrats learned their lesson: Reheating doesn’t work with failed candidates.

And, come on, Harris not only lost to Trump, not only lost all seven swing states, but was the first Democratic presidential nominee in 20 years to lose the popular vote. And her weak showing also helped Republicans wrest control of the Senate from Democrats. We’re supposed to imagine that’s a credible record on which to run again for the nomination?

All of these breathless stories about Harris leading the field nationally also never mention her perilous standing in her own home state of California. A Berkeley IGS survey in August revealed that by a margin of 18 percentage points, even her fellow Democrats in California did not want her to run again. A Politico poll this month showed Gov. Gavin Newsom with a 2-to-1 lead in California among voters leaning toward voting in the 2028 Democratic primary.

So have fun, Kamala Harris, enjoying your name-ID high while it lasts (although maybe a mite longer than your 107-day presidential effort).

Garry South is a Democratic strategist who has managed four campaigns for governor of California and played significant roles in three presidential campaigns, including that of Al Gore.

I’ve seen enough. It’s time to revise our expectations about the midterms.

For more than a year now, conventional wisdom has been that Democrats would take back the House — but not the Senate — in the November midterms.

That’s because this year’s Senate map would require Democrats to win numerous seats in red states.

In fact, if you had asked me a couple of months ago, I would have told you that, yes, Democrats have a shot at the Senate, but in the same way my teenage son has a shot at someday dating Sydney Sweeney. Which is to say, technically possible but cosmically unlikely.

But recent developments (such as President Trump’s plunging approval ratings on the economy) are encouraging me to revise my thinking.

I’m not alone. Independent journalist Chris Cillizza recently observed that for the first time ever, prediction markets like Polymarket and Kalshi showed Democrats with a narrow edge.

Now, prediction markets are not scientific. Neither, for that matter, is licking your finger and holding it up to the wind — but both have outperformed political polling at various times in the last couple of years.

The difference is that in prediction markets, people are wagering actual money, which tends to sharpen the mind in ways that answering a pollster’s call during dinner does not.

Of course, you probably haven’t heard much about this revised political outlook. That’s because nobody has any incentive to shout it from the rooftops.

Democrats don’t want to inflate expectations and risk turning a solid win into a perceived disappointment. Republicans, meanwhile, are not eager to advertise that their Senate majority is wobbling like a shopping cart with a bad wheel. And we pundits, chastened by having been burned, are reluctant to get too far out over our skis.

Even Cillizza still leans Republican on balance. But if I had to bet today — and I tend to define bet as “regret later” — I’d put my chips on the Democrats. Not because it’s a sure thing, but because almost every political and economic development seems to be trending in their direction.

History helps. The “out” party in the midterms usually does well. Current events help. Policies, including the war in Iran and rising gas prices, tend to sour voters on whoever’s in charge. And candidate quality helps. Voters do occasionally notice who’s actually on the ballot, and Democrats are serving up a semi-respectable offering.

Let’s pause to appreciate what’s at stake. Control of the Senate isn’t just about who gets the nicer office furniture. It determines judicial confirmations, including the possibility that Trump could fill a fourth Supreme Court vacancy (if one opens up in 2027 or 2028).

Now, it would be irresponsible of me to just drop this idea without delving into some logistical details.

For Democrats to flip the Senate, they need to net four seats. That means defending everything they already have while winning four more. The encouraging news (if you’re rooting for the Democrats) is that there are at least eight plausible opportunities for that to happen.

In North Carolina, incumbent Gov. Roy Cooper, a Democrat, is widely expected to win. In Maine, Republican Sen. Susan Collins once again finds herself in a political knife fight — her natural habitat, though perhaps not her preferred one. She will face Maine’s current governor or a flamboyant and controversial oysterman. I’m not sure who’d be the tougher opponent.

Out in Ohio, former Sen. Sherrod Brown benefits from the rare political skill of being a Democrat who still seems at home in Ohio.

The Democrat running in Alaska is a former member of Congress (and the first Alaska Native elected to Congress). And for the open seat in Iowa, Democrats seem likely to nominate a two-time Paralympic gold medalist who represents the reddest state house seat held by a Democrat.

Then there’s Texas, the perennial Democratic mirage — always shimmering on the horizon. But this year, it might come into clear view. James Talarico has emerged for Democrats, while Republicans are stuck choosing between scandal-plagued Atty. Gen. Ken Paxton and incumbent Sen. John Cornyn — a process that currently resembles a family feud conducted with vicious attack ads.

Meanwhile, in Nebraska and Montana, Democrats aren’t even pretending to compete. Instead, they’re relying on independents who — like Sens. Bernie Sanders and Angus King — would likely caucus with them.

In Nebraska, independent Dan Osborn already proved he can make it close: He lost in 2024 — a bad year to run against a Republican. And in Montana, the sudden announced retirement of Sen. Steve Daines has created an opening that didn’t exist five minutes ago (in political time).

Let’s not get carried away. The idea that Democrats could sweep all these races is still the kind of thing you say after your third drink. But winning half of them? That’s no longer fantasy. That’s … plausible. Maybe even more likely than not.

This isn’t a safe bet. It’s not even a comfortable one. But for the first time, it’s starting to look like smart money isn’t laughing at the idea anymore — it’s quietly sliding chips across the table.

Matt K. Lewis is the author of “Filthy Rich Politicians” and “Too Dumb to Fail.”

On Monday came the latest evidence of dysfunction within the Trump administration’s counterterrorism apparatus, when Joe Kent, the director of the National Counterterrorism Center, resigned, citing his opposition to the war in Iran. But the disarray is not new.

In July 2025, Sebastian Gorka, the senior director for counterterrorism on President Trump’s National Security Council, announced that he was “on the cusp of releasing the unclassified new presidential U.S. counterterrorism policy.” Yet eight months later, while America wages war on a notorious state sponsor of terrorism, the strategy has yet to be released.

Meanwhile, the Department of Homeland Security has not published a National Terrorism Advisory since September and has failed to issue the annual Homeland Threat Assessment report since Trump returned to office. This remains the case, even as counterterrorism experts have warned about the possibility of Iranian-backed sleeper cells being activated because of the current conflict with Iran.

Without a strategy that clearly lays out American priorities and responses, America’s counterterrorism defenses are divided, disorganized and under-resourced. It is this malfunction that left Trump answering a question about whether Americans should expect more violence in the homeland with an effective shoulder shrug: “I guess.”

The homegrown backlash to the Iran conflict began on March 1, when a naturalized U.S. citizen opened fire at a bar in Austin, Texas. The gunman, who was wearing clothing pointing to his support of Iran, killed three before being killed by police gunfire. On March 7, two Islamic State-inspired teens hurled improvised explosive devices at a group of far-right protesters outside the New York City mayor’s mansion. March 12 then saw two attacks. First, a shooting erupted at Old Dominion University, as a former U.S. National Guardsman who had been prosecuted for Islamic State-related plotting killed an ROTC instructor. Then, a U.S. citizen with family ties to Lebanon drove his vehicle into Temple Israel in West Bloomfield, Mich., before dying in an exchange of gunfire with synagogue security officers.

In three of the four attacks, further violence was stopped by heroic takedowns on scene. Perhaps most notably, the Old Dominion attacker was neutralized by students, who stabbed the gunman to death. The heroic stories, while worth uplifting, underscore a bleaker truth: amid war abroad, Americans have been forced to take counterterrorism into their own hands in their own communities, left to fend for themselves against AR-15s, improvised explosive devices and weaponized vehicles.

The diversity of the attacks and the perpetrators makes matters worse. The attackers include a U.S. National Guard veteran who served several years in prison on terrorism charges, two teenagers who traveled to a different state with violent intentions, a man with an apparently long history of mental illness, and a U.S. citizen who lost family members in the latest Israeli-Hezbollah hostilities. Their targets also point to a complex and unpredictable terrorism environment.

Absent more predictable trends, law enforcement will be spread thin, asked to protect an impossible array of locations across the country against an impossible diversity of threats. In this environment, an effective national counterterrorism strategy would likely point to stopping terrorism further upstream, interrupting radicalization and violent mobilization at an earlier stage. Yet the Trump administration has effectively eviscerated its prevention infrastructure, largely dismantling the Department of Homeland Security’s Center for Prevention Programs and Partnerships.

Notably, too, none of the attacks to date seem to be coordinated or directed by the Iranian regime, with the war instead inspiring Western lone actors to attack their own communities. Yet Iran has long engaged in assassination plots in the United States, often by enlisting third-party criminal groups, and may yet seek to activate such a program. As journalists Peter Beck and Seamus Hughes warn: “Iran’s past calculus was low-grade operations in the United States, enough to keep the FBI busy but not large enough to trigger serious military consequences. With the latter now already a reality, the Islamic Republic has less to lose by orchestrating bolder attacks.”

The Trump administration has repeatedly invoked Iran’s history of support for terrorist proxies to justify the conflict: On March 2, for instance, Trump explained that one of the operation’s objectives was “ensuring that the Iranian regime cannot continue to arm, fund and direct terrorist armies outside of their borders.” Indeed, should it follow its historical model, Iran will likely continue to make external operations and inspired violence a significant part of its response, adding sleeper cell activation and sponsored individuals to the ranks of homegrown violent extremists who have so far plagued America’s homeland since hostilities broke out. But without a more defined strategy, America will likely struggle to mount an effective response.

If, as the old saying goes, “all politics is local,” then the modern-day corollary in an era of smartphones is, “all conflict is global.” Whenever there is a war in the Middle East, as kicked off in Gaza following the Hamas terror attacks in southern Israel on Oct. 7, 2023, it exacerbates the terrorism threat landscape around the world, including in the West. When images and videos of the errant U.S. missile attack on a girls’ school flood the internet, it raises the temperature, making attacks by lone actors and other violent extremists with only tangential connections to the conflict more likely.

The breadth of the violence, however, was not guaranteed or pre-ordained. As a Shiite-majority nation, Iran has long held fractious and even hostile relationships with Sunni jihadist actors. The extent of the violence indicates a broader anti-American sentiment prevailing across diaspora communities, likely precipitated by the decades-long war on terror, greatly aggravated by Israeli abuses in Gaza since Oct. 7, 2023, and punctuated by the killings of schoolchildren. The Iran war, in other words, seems to be superseding earlier grievances and instead uniting disparate extremist forces against the United States.

In this environment, the Trump administration needs to stop being so cavalier about counterterrorism. Devoid of an actual strategy and without a director of the National Counterterrorism Center, the United States is even more vulnerable to an attack on the homeland than it would be with those in place. Writing on X, Robert A. Pape, a longtime scholar of terrorism, posted: “After tracking terrorism for 25 years, this is a flashing red light — as bright as I’ve seen prior to a serious attack.”

Only a serious approach to countering terrorism will keep the United States safe, and this is the moment for the Trump administration to demonstrate that it recognizes the stakes. In counterterrorism, inattention can be deadly.

Jacob Ware is a terrorism researcher and the co-author of “God, Guns, and Sedition: Far-Right Terrorism in America.” Colin P. Clarke is the executive director of the Soufan Center. His research focuses on terrorism, counterterrorism and armed conflict.

As the U.S. wades even deeper into the conflict with Iran, some Democratic and progressive political figures are trying to figure out how to connect the public’s wariness about war with concerns about affordability and the widespread reaction against President Trump’s xenophobic immigration policies.

If you’re looking for a template to do it well, one can be found in the words and actions of a political figure who recently passed away: the Rev. Jesse Jackson.

For while attention after his death has rightfully focused on Jackson’s long involvement with the civil rights movement, the more telling lesson for this moment is how his presidential campaigns connected a concern for addressing domestic disenfranchisement with a resolute stance against U.S. military adventures — a message that built on and echoed the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.’s landmark 1967 speech against the Vietnam War, economic exploitation and racial injustice.

Jackson’s candidacies in 1984 and 1988 emerged at a moment when the social compacts forged by the labor, civil rights and women’s movements of the 20th century were being systematically undone. Deindustrialization was hollowing out working-class communities. Reaganism was consolidating power around tax cuts for the wealthy, deregulation and attacks on unions. A new corporate consensus was hardening — one that increasingly shaped both major parties — prioritizing financial elites while disciplining labor and shrinking the public sphere.

Sound familiar?

Jackson refused to accept that such a right-wing and corporate realignment was inevitable. His Rainbow Coalition was far more ambitious than a candidate-centered campaign. It was an attempt to build an organized, multiracial, cross-class political front capable of contesting the direction of the country itself.

The Rainbow brought together constituencies that conventional political wisdom said could not unite — Black voters in the South, industrial workers in the Midwest, family farmers in crisis, Latino and Native organizers, Arab American activists, peace advocates, labor insurgents and progressive whites.

Jackson’s platform did not treat these groups as symbolic additions to a coalition; it linked their material interests. Farmers facing foreclosure were not an afterthought — the farm crisis was up front. Deindustrialized workers were not rhetorical props — trade, jobs and industrial policy were central. Civil rights were braided together with economic justice.

And crucially, Jackson insisted, as King had, that economic populism could not be separated from anti-militarism.

At the height of the Cold War, amid Reagan’s military buildup and interventionist doctrine, Jackson argued that bloated Pentagon budgets were not abstract line items. They were resources diverted from schools, healthcare, housing and jobs. He connected the violence of abandonment at home to the violence of intervention abroad — and his campaign called for redirecting military spending toward human needs and for diplomacy over escalation.

When Jackson thundered that we should “choose the human race over the nuclear race,” this was not a simple turn of phrase. It was integral to the Rainbow’s moral and economic logic. A government that prioritizes war over welfare, weapons over workers, cannot sustain democratic life.

That clarity feels especially salient today, as the United States continues to pursue military interventions and proxy conflicts whose legality and human cost are deeply contested. Once again, defense budgets swell while public goods strain. Once again, dissent against war is treated as disloyalty. Jackson rejected that false choice decades ago. He understood that militarism abroad reinforces inequality and immorality at home.

Jackson’s 1988 campaign captured millions of votes, won primaries and caucuses across the country and forced issues into the Democratic Party that party elites preferred to sideline. He demonstrated that a progressive program grounded in the lived experiences of ordinary people — rural collapse, urban disinvestment, plant closures, racial injustice and war — could assemble a national constituency.

Unfortunately, after Jackson’s last campaign, the Rainbow’s experiment in independent organizational life was folded too tightly into the mainstream Democratic Party. While that seemed a strategy to achieve a broader front, it meant that the progressive anchor was unmoored — and the effort dissolved before it could truly mature.

But the lessons of that era may be more relevant than ever.

Today, we again confront an ever-ascendant rightward turn buttressed by concentrated corporate power and normalized militarism. As in Jackson’s day, some leaders seek to deflect our attention, blaming economic challenges on the proximate “other” — in his era, Black women taking welfare, in our era, immigrants taking jobs — rather than those with power.

Jackson understood that defeating reactionary politics required isolating it — not only morally, but structurally — by assembling a coalition larger than the right’s base and rooted in shared material demands. He understood that hope had to be organized and that peace had to be part of prosperity. His campaigns showed that racial justice, labor rights, rural survival, gender equality and anti-war politics were not competing claims but interlocking ones.

Protest has surged in the United States, particularly after the excesses in Minnesota. But protest alone does not prevent consolidation. Nor do narrow electoral bargains that leave the underlying corporate and military consensus intact.

At a time when both parties remain deeply entangled with corporate and defense interests, remembering the promise of the Rainbow is not nostalgia. It is instruction.

Rishi Awatramani is a postdoctoral scholar in sociology at USC, where Manuel Pastor is a professor of sociology and the director of the Equity Research Institute.

Fans of the musical “Hamilton” know three things about the nation’s first Treasury secretary because of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s brilliance. First, that Alexander Hamilton cheated on his wife, Eliza. Second, he was killed by the vice president, Aaron Burr. Third, and most importantly, he was considered a highly principled man. And when it came to the topic of nationalizing elections, do you know how this Revolutionary War vet and founding father characterized doing so?

A threat.

Referring to corruptible public officials, Hamilton wrote in the Federalist Papers: No 59: “With so effectual a weapon in their hands as the exclusive power of regulating elections for the national government, a combination of a few such men, in a few of the most considerable States, where the temptation will always be the strongest, might accomplish the destruction of the Union, by seizing the opportunity of some casual dissatisfaction among the people to discontinue the choice.”

Hamilton’s prescient views became the framework for the Election Clause in the Constitution. And since returning to the White House, President Trump has been searching for ways to usurp it. Last month he made calls to nationalize elections. This month he’s at it again.

He’s also pushing Congress to pass his so-called SAVE Act, which would require voters to show proof of citizenship when they register to vote. It sounds innocuous until you realize a driver’s license isn’t good enough; a passport would often be required. But half the country doesn’t have a passport, and it costs roughly $200 and a few weeks to get one. The logistical burden is unreasonable and cruel: Consider that this year, during primary season, we’ve already witnessed natural disaster — such as the tornadoes that recently ripped through the Midwest or the fires in Texas — upend entire communities. Many people would not have been able to vote, simply because they had been separated from their papers during the disaster.

The financial obstacles that would be created by the SAVE Act are at least as onerous: Why would Congress choose to financially burden voters — with what is essentially an unlawful poll tax — at a time when the unemployment rate and gas prices are up and the approval rating for nearly everyone in office is down? There are a couple of reasons. One is that the party controlling Congress hopes to suppress voting in order to defy the will of the American majority and cling to power.

Another reason lawmakers support this terrible bill is simply that Trump wants it. Some Republicans in office are so afraid of angering a vengeful president that they would rather entertain his authoritarian tendencies than go through the fire of his opposition during a primary.

For politicians such as Sen. John Cornyn (R-Texas), who this week changed his long-held position on the filibuster in order to push the SAVE Act, it’s simply about political survival. He needs the president’s endorsement heading into the runoff for his Senate seat.

Trump has called the election overhaul bill his top priority — not the war he started with Iran, not returning the billions collected from illegal tariffs, not justice for Jeffrey Epstein’s victims. Before there was a Constitution, there was a warning, written by Hamilton and other founders, whose concerns about nationalized elections are well documented and have proved to be well founded.

You would think a nation in the midst of beating its proverbial chest about our 250th birthday would take more heed from the country’s founders. But nope: This week Florida state lawmakers, in an attempt to appease their state’s most powerful resident, passed an election overhaul law that mirrors the federal SAVE Act. More red states are likely to follow, not because a national wave of voter fraud has been unearthed by authorities, but because the authorities want to stay in the good graces of someone who has yet to prove any widespread fraud other than his own.

The party that famously railed against “the bridge to nowhere” is now offering bills that solve nonexistent problems. Or in some cases, creating problems, particularly for women who changed their names after marriage so their state IDs don’t match their birth certificates.

Cornyn is not alone in exchanging his principles for Trump’s favor; he’s just the most recent. However, the manner in which he announced his flip flop was particularly tone deaf.

“If a man takes a swing at you and barely misses, that doesn’t make him a pacifist — it just means he has bad aim,” Cornyn wrote in an op-ed about the bill for the New York Post, the newspaper founded by Hamilton in 1801. “Standing still and giving him a second free swing wouldn’t be wise or honorable: it would be foolish.”

In 2016, then-candidate Trump took his first big swing at our elections when he implied — without evidence — that his opponent, Sen. Ted Cruz, had rigged the election after losing to him in the Iowa Republican caucus. Reportedly Trump even tried to get the state’s party chair to overturn the result. He’s been throwing jabs at our elections ever since. The Jan. 6 riot was a haymaker that barely missed. Given the president’s propensity to hand out Trump 2028 hats, it seems passing the SAVE Act would be, in Cornyn’s words, setting voters up to stand there while Trump takes another swing at our democracy.

YouTube: @LZGrandersonShow

Six days after the commencement of Operation Epic Fury, President Trump took to Truth Social to announce, in the context of the ongoing joint American-Israeli military campaign against the Islamic Republic of Iran: “There will be no deal with Iran except UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER!” In the same post, the president seemed to equate such “unconditional surrender” with “the selection of a GREAT & ACCEPTABLE Leader” to lead Iran, which would enable the country to come back from the “brink of destruction” and emerge “stronger than ever.”

Just three days after announcing “unconditional surrender” as his goal, Trump, speaking on March 9 in Doral, Fla., proclaimed that the end of the war will happen “very soon.” One might be forgiven for experiencing some whiplash — especially because earlier that same day, Trump told Fox News he was “not happy” with Iran’s naming of a new supreme leader, Mojtaba Khamenei. In fact, around the same time he was demanding “unconditional surrender” the prior week, Trump had already called Khamenei the younger “unacceptable.”

What exactly is going on here?

Trump is a conservative nationalist, which means his general approach to foreign policy and his specific foreign policy “excursions” are guided by his view of how best to secure the American national interest. Accordingly, since Operation Epic Fury started, Pentagon press briefings featuring Secretary of War Pete Hegseth and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Dan Caine have repeatedly emphasized empirical metrics for measuring success, such as Iranian naval vessels sunk, Iranian air force planes shot down, Iranian ballistic missile silos and launch sites destroyed and so forth.

Trump hasn’t said it explicitly, but the Trump administration’s goal — and thereby, definition of victory — in Operation Epic Fury seems clear enough: the neutralization of Iran as an active, ongoing threat to the United States and our interests. If nothing else, at least, that is how victory in the current campaign should be defined.

That does still raise at least one pressing question, though, especially in the context of exiled Crown Prince Reza Pahlavi’s call to the Iranian people to prepare for “the decisive stage of our final struggle”: Where does that most controversial of foreign policy goals, “regime change,” fit into the puzzle?

At this point, it is undeniable that wholesale regime change is the most desirable outcome for the conflict in Iran. The pursuit of regime change as a goal unto itself is often now disparaged, coming in the aftermath of the failed neoconservative boondoggles earlier this century. But it ought to be axiomatic that there are some foreign regimes that behave in a manner that redounds to the American national interest, and there are some foreign regimes that behave in a manner that is contrary to the American national interest. It is natural and logical that we would wish for the latter types of regime to be heavily reformed or outright replaced — especially with the local populace leading the way.

Perhaps even more to the point: One does not take out a 37-year-ruling despot like Ali Khamenei, as the American and Israeli militaries did in the opening hours of the present operation, and not hope for full-scale regime change. All people of goodwill should be hoping for that outcome — for the Iranian people to rise up like lions and throw the yoke of tyranny off their necks once and for all, delivering a long-sought victory for the American national interest in the process.

But it’s entirely possible full-scale regime change won’t happen. The people of Iran just witnessed tens of thousands of their countrymen brutally gunned down during the anti-regime uprisings of late December and early January. They are an unarmed populace facing Nazi-esque regime jackboots, in the form of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps and the Basij paramilitary.

All of that, then, raises one final question: Is it possible for there to be victory in Operation Epic Fury, and for the Iranian regime to be neutralized as a threat to the United States and our interests, if there isn’t full-scale regime change in Tehran?

In theory, the answer is yes. Venezuela provides a model.

Delcy Rodríguez, the current leader, is a hardened Marxist-Leninist in the mold of her predecessors Hugo Chávez and Nicolás Maduro. But Rodriguez has been fully cooperative with the United States since the astonishing January operation to extract Maduro for the simple reason that she has no real choice in the matter: She remains in power, yes, but only on the condition of an “offer” presented by Trump and Secretary of State Marco Rubio that, to borrow from Vito Corleone in “The Godfather,” Rodríguez “can’t refuse.” Rodríguez has thus been fully cooperative in areas such as American oil extraction and the reestablishment of diplomatic relations with the United States.

In theory, a similar arrangement is possible with a decimated, chastened regime in Tehran. And some experts predict that such an arrangement will characterize the regime in Iran a year or two from now. In practice, however, there is the ever-thorny problem that has frustrated and perplexed Westerners for decades when they attempt to reason with zealous Islamists: They do not fear death. A socialist like Delcy Rodríguez can, ultimately, be reasoned with; an Islamist like Mojtaba Khamenei (or his successor), perhaps not.

The cleanest solution to the Iran quagmire at this particular juncture — and the one that most clearly fulfills Trump’s “unconditional surrender” victory criterion — is indeed full-scale regime change. That is certainly the outcome that would be best for the neutralization of the Iranian threat and the corresponding advancement of the American national interest. I’m far from certain it will happen. But like many, I pray that it will posthaste.

Josh Hammer’s latest book is “Israel and Civilization: The Fate of the Jewish Nation and the Destiny of the West.” This article was produced in collaboration with Creators Syndicate. X: @josh_hammer

If you’re looking for the most elegant way to wrap up our “little excursion” in Iran, it’s this: President Trump should follow what might politely be called the “declare victory and head for the airport” strategy.

You know the drill: Announce that we’ve set back Iran’s nuclear programs a decade, pounded their navy into submission, and turned the ayatollah into a fine mist. Mission accomplished! Thank you for flying the friendly skies, and please return your seat backs to their full upright and locked position.

Don’t get me wrong. This “cut and run” routine is less than ideal. Trump will have signaled to the world he (we) can’t endure any insurgent resistance, empowered the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps to run the country and likely angered Israel in the process.

But his domestic political base will believe he won, and fan service has always been his top political priority.

Besides, once you’ve entered a war without a coherent justification, clearly defined goals or a credible exit strategy, you’re lucky to get out at all. A salutary outcome no longer exists; that ship has already sailed.

Speaking of which, as I write this, we are drifting toward what feels like a point of no return. Mining the Strait of Hormuz, which Iran is now attempting to do, is the ultimate trump card.

Using mines to shut down this narrow shipping lane — which contributes about 20% of the world’s oil supply, not to mention natural gas and fertilizer — could result in a crippled global economy, mass casualties and a situation in which the president can no longer save face while cutting and running.

As retired U.S. Navy Adm. James Stavridis writes, “Iran has been planning a Strait of Hormuz closure operation for decades and probably has more than 5,000 mines; just one hit can severely damage a thin-skinned tanker.”

Yes, once laid, minefields can be cleared. But Stavridis predicts it would take “weeks, if not a month or two” to clear thousands of mines. He warns: “The global economy needs to be prepared for a month or two shutdown.” (Complicating matters is the fact that our dedicated minesweepers were recently decommissioned.)

The Iranians are not idiots. They watch American politics. They understand that Trump’s pressure point isn’t Tehran — it’s the S&P 500. A bad week on Wall Street makes him jumpier than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

Trump, whatever else you say about him, is a transactional materialist who approaches geopolitics the way a real estate developer approaches zoning disputes: What’s the angle, where’s the leverage, and can everybody just settle already?

Unfortunately, the fellows running Iran are religious zealots who believe — deeply, sincerely and somewhat alarmingly — in something larger than quarterly economic indicators. Their strategic plan appears to consist of two options: survive (which they see as tantamount to victory), or die gloriously while insisting they meant to do that all along.

Which makes their current behavior grimly logical.

The Iranian regime, such as it is, doesn’t have much to lose. But they know exactly what Trump has to lose: His popularity and political legacy are now tied to the price of oil.

Releasing U.S. strategic oil reserves will help to some extent, but this is not a long-term solution. And Iran is betting that when the price at the pump for U.S. consumers starts looking like a luxury car payment, Trump will do what critics like to summarize as TACO — “Trump Always Chickens Out.”

Lots of American political observers agree. And it’s not just moderates or RINOs who are teasing this.

Referring to the U.S. military, former Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich told Larry Kudlow on Fox Business: “They have to keep the Strait of Hormuz open. I don’t care what it costs.”

“If they can’t keep it open,” Gingrich continued, “this war will, in fact, be an American defeat before very long, because the entire world, including the American people, will react to the price of oil if the strait stays closed very long.”

Perhaps the U.S. military can pull off a delicate trick: keep our “armada” in the region, keep the Strait of Hormuz open, clear any mines that are laid and prevent some unlucky tanker from being hit by a mine — or, for that matter, by a drone or missile fired from the Iranian coast. That final risk is why some military analysts believe reopening the strait would require a ground operation.

Imagine that the U.S. manages to thread these needles. Then what?

Total and complete surrender? Regime change? Boots on the ground?

Absent a swift exit (like, tomorrow), we’re left with the two classic options of power politics: a delayed and more ignominious retreat or increased escalation.

And, historically speaking, American presidents are more likely to double down — with tragic results.

Matt K. Lewis is the author of “Filthy Rich Politicians” and “Too Dumb to Fail.”

If Democrats expect to flip a U.S. Senate seat in Texas, they’ll need all the stars to align. This almost never happens, because politics has a way of scrambling the constellations. But on Tuesday, the first star blinked on.

I’m referring to state Rep. James Talarico’s victory over Rep. Jasmine Crockett in the Democratic primary. Most political prognosticators agree that Talarico, an eloquent young Democrat who speaks openly about his Christian faith, is their best hope in a red state that Donald Trump won by 14 points.

The second star was Crockett’s conciliatory concession — far from a foregone conclusion after a nasty primary — in which she pledged to “do my part,” adding that “Texas is primed to turn blue, and we must remain united because this is bigger than any one person.”

The third star — a vulnerable Republican opponent — has not yet appeared over the Texas sky, although forecasters say it might.

Most observers agree that scandal-plagued Atty. Gen. Ken Paxton would be beatable in the general election, while incumbent Sen. John Cornyn would present a much tougher challenge. Cornyn is the kind of steady, conventional politician who tends to win elections, and so, of course, modern voters are extremely suspicious of him.

In the GOP primary on Tuesday, Cornyn’s 42% share of the vote edged out Paxton by about a point. Unfortunately for Republicans, neither candidate garnered enough votes to avoid a May 26 runoff election.

Conventional wisdom suggests that when a majority of Republican voters choose someone other than the incumbent in the first round of voting, an even greater majority will inevitably break toward the challenger in the runoff. If that happens, Paxton would become the nominee, and Democrats would get their third star to align.

Even better for Democrats — a fourth star, so to speak — would be for this protracted runoff to become a “knife fight,” as one Texas Republican predicted, in which Paxton staggers out of the fight as the battered GOP nominee.

The only problem is that Republicans can see these stars aligning, too.

And while the Texas Senate seat matters a lot on its own, it matters even more in the context of nationwide midterm elections, in which a Texas win would help Democrats take back the Senate.

Enter the cavalry — or, more accurately, President Trump, who is now entering a second war in the span of a week, this one a civil war in the Lone Star State.

The day after the primary, Trump announced that he would be “making my Endorsement soon, and will be asking the candidate that I don’t Endorse to immediately DROP OUT OF THE RACE!”

Reports suggest Trump may endorse Cornyn in order to save the seat for Republicans. But who knows? Trump is famously unpredictable. And it’s likely he admires Paxton’s ability to survive scandals that would have caused most normal politicians to curl up in the fetal position. As they say, “game recognizes game.”

Whomever he backs, conventional wisdom also says Trump should make his endorsement “soon,” as he promised. That would save Republicans a lot of time and money. But Trump currently has enormous leverage. Right now, people are coming to him, pleading for his support.

Do you think he wants to resolve that situation quickly?

Me neither.

With Trump, you never know what you’re going to get. In 2021, he helped torpedo Republican Senate candidates David Perdue and Kelly Loeffler in Georgia, handing Democrats control of the Senate. The following year he backed football legend Herschel Walker in another Georgia Senate race, which did not exactly work out great. Democrat Raphael Warnock won and holds that seat, though Walker is now ambassador to the Bahamas so that’s something.

This is to say: Trump’s political assistance does not always assist.

It’s unclear whether Trump’s endorsement would be dispositive — and whether he could muscle the other Republican out of the primary race.

Paxton, for example, initially vowed to stay in the race, no matter what. (He later suggested he would “consider” dropping out if the Senate passes the SAVE America Act, a bill to require proof of citizenship to vote.)

There’s also this: Trump’s endorsements tend to either be made out of vengeance or to pad the totals of an already inevitable winner, so his track record is probably overrated.

Case in point: While most of his endorsed candidates won their Texas elections, his endorsed candidate for agriculture commissioner lost reelection. And according to the Texas Tribune, “at least three Trump-endorsed candidates for Congress were headed to runoffs, one of them in a distant second place.”

Another issue is that Cornyn needs more than a perfunctory endorsement: He needs a clear, full-throated endorsement.

In a 2022 Missouri Senate race, Trump endorsed “ERIC,” which was awkward because two candidates named Eric were running.

More recently, he endorsed two rival candidates in the same 2026 Arizona gubernatorial race — like betting on both teams in the Super Bowl.

This is all to say that the only thing standing between Texas Democrats and a rare celestial alignment may be the whims of the Republican Party’s one and only star.

Sure, establishment Republicans can beg Trump to quickly step in and settle the race, and maybe he will. But it’s entirely possible the president will find a way to blow up his party’s chances for holding the U.S. Senate — and there’s nothing they can do to stop him.

When you’re a star, they let you do it.

Matt K. Lewis is the author of “Filthy Rich Politicians” and “Too Dumb to Fail.”

At a time when so many forces seem to be dividing us as a nation, it is tragic that President Trump seeks to co-opt or destroy whatever remaining threads unite us.

I refer, of course, to the U.S. men’s Olympic hockey team winning gold: the kind of victory that normally causes Americans to forget their differences and instead focus on something wholesome, like chanting “USA” while mispronouncing the names of the European players we defeated before taking on Canada.

This should have been pure civic oxygen. Instead, we got video of Kash Patel pounding beers with the players — which is not illegal, but does make you wonder whether the head of the Federal Bureau of Investigation has a desk somewhere with neglected paperwork that might hold the answers to the D.B. Cooper mystery.

Then came the presidential phone call to the men’s team, during which Trump joked about having to invite the women’s team to the State of the Union, too, or risk impeachment — the sort of sexist humor that lands best if you’re a 79-year-old billionaire and not a 23-year-old athlete wondering whether C-SPAN is recording. (The U.S. women’s hockey team also brought home the gold this year, also after beating Canada. The White House invited the women to the State of the Union, and they declined.)

It’s hard to blame the players on the men’s team who were subjected to Trump’s joke. They didn’t invite this. They’re not Muhammad Ali taking a principled stand against Vietnam, or Tommie Smith and John Carlos raising fists for Black power at the Olympics in 1968, or even Colin Kaepernick protesting police brutality by kneeling during the national anthem. They’re just hockey bros who survived a brutal game and were suddenly confronted with two of the most powerful figures in the federal government — and a cooler full of beer.

When the FBI director wants to hang, you don’t say, “Sorry, sir, we have a team curfew.” And when the president calls, you definitely don’t say, “Can you hold? We’re trying to remain serious, bipartisan and chivalrous.” Under those circumstances, most agreeable young men would salute, smile and try to skate past it.

But symbolism matters. If the team becomes perceived as a partisan mascot, then the victory stops belonging to the country and starts belonging to a faction. That would be bad for everyone, including the team, because politics is the fastest way to turn something fun into something divisive.

And Trump’s meddling with the medal winners didn’t end after his call. It continued during Tuesday night’s State of the Union address, when Trump spent six minutes honoring the team, going so far as to announce that he would award the Presidential Medal of Freedom to goalie Connor Hellebuyck.

To be sure, presidents have always tried to bask in reflected glory. The main difference with Trump, as always, is scale. He doesn’t just associate himself with popular institutions; he absorbs them in the popular mind.

We’ve seen this dynamic play out with evangelical Christianity, law enforcement, the nation of Israel and various cultural symbols. Once something gets labeled as “Trump-adjacent,” millions of Americans are drawn to it. However, millions of other Americans recoil from it, which is not healthy for institutions that are supposed to serve everyone. (And what happens to those institutions when Trump is replaced by someone from the opposing party?)

Meanwhile, our culture keeps splitting into niche markets. Heck, this year’s Super Bowl necessitated two separate halftime shows to accommodate our divided political and cultural worldviews. In the past, this would have been deemed both unnecessary and logistically impossible.

But today, absent a common culture, entertainment companies micro-target via demographics. Many shows code either right or left — rural or urban. The success of the western drama “Yellowstone,” which spawned imitators such as “Ransom Canyon” on Netflix, demonstrates the success of appealing to MAGA-leaning viewers. Meanwhile, most “prestige” TV shows skew leftward. The same cultural divides now exist among comedians and musicians and in almost every aspect of American life.

None of this was caused by Trump — technology (cable news, the internet, the iPhone) made narrowcasting possible — but he weaponized it for politics. And whereas most modern politicians tried to build broad majorities the way broadcast TV once chased ratings — by offending as few people as possible — Trump came not to bring peace but division.

Now, unity isn’t automatically virtuous. North Korea is unified. So is a cult. Americans are supposed to disagree — it’s practically written into the Constitution. Disagreement is baked into our national identity like free speech and complaining about taxes.

But a functioning republic needs a few shared experiences that aren’t immediately sorted into red and blue bins. And when Olympic gold medals get drafted into the culture wars, that’s when you know we’re running out of common ground.

You might think conservatives — traditionally worried about social cohesion and anomie — would lament this erosion of a mainstream national identity. Instead, they keep supporting the political equivalent of a lawn mower aimed at the delicate fabric of our nation.

So here we are. The state of the union is divided. But how long can a house divided against itself stand?

We are, as they say, skating on thin ice.

Matt K. Lewis is the author of “Filthy Rich Politicians” and “Too Dumb to Fail.”