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    ¿Qué hay detrás del giro a la derecha del gobernador de Texas?

    La efectividad de la transformación de Greg Abbott, quien ha implementado medidas cercanas a la base más conservadora del Partido Republicano, se pondrá a prueba en las elecciones del próximo año.AUSTIN, Texas — El gobernador Greg Abbott sorprendió a algunos de sus colaboradores cuando este otoño llegó a su despacho con los planes de un nuevo decreto pandémico: una prohibición para que los empleadores privados de Texas no pudieran exigir la vacunación a sus empleados.La decisión marcó una transformación dramática para el gobernador, quien ya lleva dos mandatos, un tipo de intromisión en los asuntos de las empresas que Abbott siempre ha rechazado. De hecho, solo dos meses antes se había opuesto a este tipo de medidas. “Los negocios privados no necesitan que el gobierno maneje sus negocios”, dijo una portavoz en aquel momento.Su cambio de actitud suscitó críticas de los principales grupos empresariales de Texas, desde corporaciones como American Airlines, y de un importante actor de la política republicana local, Texans for Lawsuit Reform. También provocó frustración entre algunos integrantes del personal del gobernador.Quienes han conocido a Abbott y visto su ascenso —de abogado a juez de una corte estatal a procurador general y, finalmente, a gobernador— han quedado sorprendidos con su súbita decisión de alinearse con los activistas más estridentes del Partido Republicano.Pero como un gobernador que tiene un sentido atento de los vientos políticos, en un estado en donde el dominio republicano sigue siendo total, su prohibición a los mandatos de vacunación era una forma de ser coherente con su afición por interpretar el momento. Y en este momento, incluso en un estado como Texas, donde todo gira en torno a los negocios, los intereses corporativos están fuera de lugar y los culturales están en boga.Está supervisando una auditoría de los resultados electorales de 2020 en cuatro grandes condados de Texas, un estado en donde el expresidente Donald J. Trump ganó por más de 5 puntos. Pidió y aprobó legislación que restringe a los atletas transgénero luego de que cuatro años antes parecía haberse alegrado de que no avanzaran las restricciones en los baños para las personas trans en el estado ante la oposición de los empresarios. Pasó de ordenar el uso de mascarillas el año pasado, a prohibir dichas órdenes esta primavera.Su giro a la derecha será puesto a prueba el próximo año, cuando encara a su oponente más conocido y con más financiamiento hasta el momento: Beto O’ Rourke, quien anunció su candidatura a finales del mes pasado. Su enfrentamiento hace preguntarse cuánto puede ir un gobernador de Texas hacia la derecha y mantenerse frente a una ola creciente de demócratas en las principales ciudades y suburbios del estado.La elección también es una prueba importante de la fuerza de Abbott a nivel nacional, donde a menudo se le menciona junto con otros posibles candidatos presidenciales alternativos a Trump, como el gobernador Ron DeSantis de Florida, aunque sus asesores insisten en que no está interesado. Sus ataques a O’Rourke, así como al presidente Biden, se han intensificado.Estos días, Abbott se encuentra dividido entre el enfoque conservador balanceado que le ha ganado popularidad entre los círculos empresariales de Texas y un enfoque intenso en ganar en un Partido Republicano que evoluciona, según entrevistas con muchos asesores y exasesores y más de una veintena de amigos, excolegas, funcionarios electos y estrategas políticos..css-1xzcza9{list-style-type:disc;padding-inline-start:1em;}.css-3btd0c{font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-size:1rem;line-height:1.375rem;color:#333;margin-bottom:0.78125rem;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-3btd0c{font-size:1.0625rem;line-height:1.5rem;margin-bottom:0.9375rem;}}.css-3btd0c strong{font-weight:600;}.css-3btd0c em{font-style:italic;}.css-1kpebx{margin:0 auto;font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-weight:700;font-size:1.125rem;line-height:1.3125rem;color:#121212;}#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-1kpebx{font-family:nyt-cheltenham,georgia,’times new roman’,times,serif;font-weight:700;font-size:1.375rem;line-height:1.625rem;}@media (min-width:740px){#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-1kpebx{font-size:1.6875rem;line-height:1.875rem;}}@media (min-width:740px){.css-1kpebx{font-size:1.25rem;line-height:1.4375rem;}}.css-1gtxqqv{margin-bottom:0;}.css-1g3vlj0{font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-size:1rem;line-height:1.375rem;color:#333;margin-bottom:0.78125rem;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-1g3vlj0{font-size:1.0625rem;line-height:1.5rem;margin-bottom:0.9375rem;}}.css-1g3vlj0 strong{font-weight:600;}.css-1g3vlj0 em{font-style:italic;}.css-1g3vlj0{margin-bottom:0;margin-top:0.25rem;}.css-19zsuqr{display:block;margin-bottom:0.9375rem;}.css-12vbvwq{background-color:white;border:1px solid #e2e2e2;width:calc(100% – 40px);max-width:600px;margin:1.5rem auto 1.9rem;padding:15px;box-sizing:border-box;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-12vbvwq{padding:20px;width:100%;}}.css-12vbvwq:focus{outline:1px solid #e2e2e2;}#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-12vbvwq{border:none;padding:10px 0 0;border-top:2px solid #121212;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-rdoyk0{-webkit-transform:rotate(0deg);-ms-transform:rotate(0deg);transform:rotate(0deg);}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-eb027h{max-height:300px;overflow:hidden;-webkit-transition:none;transition:none;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-5gimkt:after{content:’See more’;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-6mllg9{opacity:1;}.css-qjk116{margin:0 auto;overflow:hidden;}.css-qjk116 strong{font-weight:700;}.css-qjk116 em{font-style:italic;}.css-qjk116 a{color:#326891;-webkit-text-decoration:underline;text-decoration:underline;text-underline-offset:1px;-webkit-text-decoration-thickness:1px;text-decoration-thickness:1px;-webkit-text-decoration-color:#326891;text-decoration-color:#326891;}.css-qjk116 a:visited{color:#326891;-webkit-text-decoration-color:#326891;text-decoration-color:#326891;}.css-qjk116 a:hover{-webkit-text-decoration:none;text-decoration:none;}Su prohibición a los mandatos de vacunación no fue suficiente para los ultraconservadores que han estado exigiendo una sesión legislativa especial para reglamentar su orden. Al mismo tiempo, negocios y hospitales han avanzado en sus requerimientos de vacunación, planeados o existentes, mientras que el estado ha hecho poco o nada para que la prohibición entre en vigor, indicaron los grupos industriales.Más de 200 vidas se perdieron durante la última tormenta de invierno, que causó cortes en la electricidad en Texas en febrero,Tamir Kalifa para The New York TimesCuando Abbott postuló por primera vez a la gubernatura, en 2014, presentó un rostro más moderado al enfrentarse a la legisladora estatal demócrata Wendy Davis. Un anuncio en español mostraba a su esposa Cecilia, nieta de inmigrantes mexicanos. En otro aparecía en su silla de ruedas —está paralizado de la cintura para abajo después de un accidente en 1984— desplazándose por un mapa para mostrar cómo los negocios se iban de California a Texas.Pero mientras que los republicanos han fortalecido su control del gobierno estatal, Abbott ha enfrentado desafíos de la base de su partido. Este año, Abbott se unió al revoltoso vicegobernador, Dan Patrick, para respaldar quizás las sesiones legislativas más conservadoras en la historia de Texas.Lo ha hecho incluso a pesar de que ya disponía de fondos de campaña por casi 60 millones de dólares y el apoyo anticipado de Trump, quien a menudo llama por teléfono celular al gobernador. (Trump lo ha llamado para ejercer presión por la auditoría del voto de 2020).Ha mantenido una actitud segura y ofrecido asesoría a otros gobernadores republicanos, en especial a los que han sido electos recientemente. Al llegar la pandemia, Abbott organizó llamadas semanales con sus pares para discutir las políticas y los ha liderado a plantar oposición contra la gestión de Biden y crear un enfoque separado, estatal, de justicia penal hacia los migrantes.Y sus ataques agresivos contra Biden en temas fronterizos le han asegurado apariciones regulares en Fox News.“Greg es un conservador archi archi ultraderechista, lo cual sigue sorprendiéndome”, dijo Pearson Grimes, socio en el despacho de abogados en el que Abbott trabajó en los años ochenta después de que la caída de un árbol lo paralizó de la cintura para abajo. Grimes ayudó al futuro gobernador a encontrar un abogado para su demanda por el accidente.“Cuando lo conocí hace mucho”, dijo Grimes, “nunca hubiera imaginado que esta sería su política”.Abbott, quien lleva a cabo pocas conferencias de prensa, rechazó las solicitudes de declarar para este artículo. Renae Eze, su secretaria de prensa lo describió por correo electrónico como “un líder conservador inquebrantable” y “defensor de los derechos constitucionales y fundamentales”, un hombre impulsado por su fe en el “excepcionalismo de Texas” y la necesidad de protegerlo.El expresidente Donald Trump y el gobernador de Texas, Abbott, visitan una sección incompleta del muro fronterizo en Pharr, Texas, en junio de 2021.Eric Gay/Associated PressUna lesión que le cambió la vidaAbbott, de 63 años, nació en el pueblo de Wichita Falls, Texas, una pequeña comunidad al noroeste de Dallas, y luego se mudó a Duncanville, al sur de la ciudad. Su padre murió de un paro cardiaco cuando Abbott estaba en el bachillerato y su madre, que se dedicaba al hogar, se puso a trabajar para mantenerlo a él y a su hermano mayor, Gary, quien es conocido como Bud.Para cuando acudía a la Escuela de Derecho de Vanderbilt, Abbott ya se había casado. Conoció a su esposa en la Universidad de Texas. “Tal como lo recuerdo, en aquellos años no era especialmente político”, dijo Fred Frost, un amigo de la facultad que ahora es el asesor legal ejecutivo de ExxonMobil.Fue cuando trotaba con Frost por el acaudalado barrio de River Oaks en Houston que la vida de Abbott cambió: un roble le cayó encima con tal fuerza que aplastó un Cadillac que estaba cerca. Abbott, quien solo tenía 26 años, perdió la sensibilidad en las piernas de inmediato.Estaba dispuesto a recuperarse. Frost recuerda una noche al salir en Houston que vio a Abbott estacionar su sedán dos puertas color guinda en un restaurante, tomar su silla de ruedas, subirse de un salto y dar la vuelta al lado del pasajero para abrirle la puerta a su esposa.Abbott consiguió un acuerdo que incluye pagos por el resto de su vida, que hasta el momento ascienden a unos 8 millones de dólares. El arreglo no impidió que más tarde Abbott fuera un defensor firme de poner límites a las demandas civiles por lesiones. Cuando era un abogado joven en Houston defendió al sistema municipal de autobuses en casos personales de lesiones.Después del accidente, su silla de ruedas ha quedado entrelazada con su identidad profesional. Como gobernador, le ha permitido conectar con los demás en momentos de tragedia, dijeron sus colaboradores, como sucedió tras el tiroteo masivo de 2019 en un Walmart de El Paso que dejó a 23 personas muertas, o luego del huracán Harvey en 2017.Aún así, a pesar de su historia personal, los analistas políticos en Texas a menudo se lamentan de que Abbott carezca de la gran personalidad de sus predecesores inmediatos: Ann Richards, George W. Bush y Rick Perry.“Es un conservador con ‘c’ minúscula, es decir, cuidadoso”, dijo Robert Stein, profesor de ciencia política de la Universidad de Rice.Abbot se ha erizado ante los desafíos que se le prestan desde la derecha por parte de Don Huffines, un exsenador estatal, y por Allen West, un excongresista por Florida que lideró fugazmente el Partido Republicano de Texas. Aunque los sondeos muestran que Abbott es muy popular entre los votantes republicanos, ha parecido concentrarse en una pequeña cantidad que lo ha abandonado.Incluso antes de empezar su campaña, ya recorría el estado para reunirse con votantes republicanos y organizaba asambleas telefónicas por invitación. A menudo reserva parte de su agenda diaria para dedicar ocho horas a hacer llamadas de recaudación de fondos.El gobernador de Texas, Greg Abbott, reza después de una vigilia en El Paso después de que más de 20 personas murieran en un tiroteo masivo en un Walmart.Ivan Pierre Aguirre/EPA vía ShutterstockLa prueba del primer mandatoUna primera prueba de su liderazgo se presentó durante el primer año de Abbott como gobernador, cuando entre los círculos conservadores se originaron teorías de la conspiración de que un ejercicio militar estadounidense, conocido como Jade Helm 15, en realidad era un plan secreto para invadir Texas. Abbott quería decir algo.“La gente había estado interactuando con él por Twitter”, dijo un asesor. “Se sintió obligado a responder. Para él, esta es la gente de base que participa en la política partidaria. Son los que van y tocan puertas en tu nombre” para hacer campaña.Al final el gobernador decidió enviar a la Guardia Estatal de Texas, que forma parte del departamento militar del estado, a “monitorear” la operación.Para algunos de sus aliados fue un error. Para sus críticos demócratas, fue un momento emblemático de un gobernador que no estaba dispuesto a enfrentar a los marginales de su partido.“Abbott es simplemente un tipo que, en mi opinión, siempre está temiendo algo”, dijo Chris Turner, el líder demócrata en la Cámara de Representantes de Texas.Antes de la pandemia, Abbott había logrado unir al ala afín al empresariado del partido con el extremo más de derecha. Pero en tanto el virus dividió al estado el año pasado, Abbott enfrentó un momento crucial. En julio de 2020 emitió un mandato estatal para usar cubrebocas, una decisión que sus colaboradores dicen que tomó siguiendo su propio lema de ignorar la política y “hacer lo correcto”.A algunos conservadores no les sentó nada bien. La reacción ayudó a impulsar la energía insurgente y le dio una bandera a sus contendientes republicanos.Huffines, su opositor más vocal en las primarias, también empujó al gobernador hacia el muro fronterizo, al pedir que el estado construyera uno en mayo. Para el mes de junio Abbott ya había anunciado que tenía intención de erigir un muro.Y, días antes de que Abbott decidiera prohibir que los negocios exigieran la vacunación obligatoria, Huffines pidió al gobernador que hiciera justo eso. “Ningún texano debería perder su trabajo porque no quieren vacunarse contra la covid”, dijo Huffines en un comunicado de prensa.Abbott ha adoptado políticas idénticas a las de miembros mucho más conservadores de su partido.Callaghan O’Hare para The New York TimesEra el mismo mensaje que los asesores de Abbott dijeron que el gobernador había estado escuchando durante semanas en sus eventos por todo el estado.Cuando Abbott le comunicó a su personal que quería emitir la orden, los asesores dicen que se desató una discusión. Algunos se oponían a la medida. Luego del debate con sus colaboradores, Abbott decidió avanzar con la orden.David Carney, su asesor de campaña, dijo que Abbott quería proteger a los pequeños negocios de tener que despedir a los trabajadores por la política “torpe, incoherente” de requerir vacunación obligatoria para las empresas con 100 o más empleados, que entrará en vigor el 4 de enero y que el mes pasado Abbott desafió en una corte federal.“Esto siempre ha sido impulsado por los pequeños negocios”, dijo Carney, y no por la política republicana.J. David Goodman es el jefe del buró de Houston, que cubre Texas. Ha escrito sobre gobierno, justicia penal y el papel del financiamiento en la política para el Times desde 2012. @jdavidgoodman More

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    Democrats Back Biden, But No Consensus About Plan B for 2024

    Leaders with White House aspirations all say they’ll support the president for another term. But there is no shortage of chatter about the options if he continues to falter.NEW ORLEANS — Addressing reporters at a meeting of the Democratic Governors Association, Gov. Roy Cooper of North Carolina gave an emphatic answer when asked whether he expected President Biden to seek a second term — and whether he believed that was in the best interests of his party.“I do and I do,” Mr. Cooper said on Friday, adding, “I fully expect him to seek re-election and I will support him, and in fact we’re going to win North Carolina for him.”But just three minutes later, Mr. Cooper — the only Democratic governor to twice win a state that former President Donald J. Trump carried in both of his campaigns — was sketching out what could be the makings of a Cooper for President message to primary voters.He trumpeted his repeal of his state’s so-called bathroom bill targeting transgender people, an executive order granting paid parental leave to state employees and another order putting North Carolina on a path to carbon neutrality by 2050. “That’s why Democratic governors are so important,” he said, alluding to next year’s midterm elections.Publicly, Mr. Cooper and other Democratic leaders are focused on what will be a difficult 2022 if Mr. Biden’s popularity does not pick up. However, it is 2024 that’s increasingly on the minds of a long roster of ambitious Democrats and their advisers.With Mr. Biden facing plunging poll numbers and turning 82 the month he’d be on the ballot, and Vice President Kamala Harris plagued by flagging poll numbers of her own, conversations about possible alternatives are beginning far earlier than is customary for a president still in the first year of his first term.None of the prospects would dare openly indicate interest, for fear of offending both a president who, White House officials say, has made it clear to them that he plans to run for re-election and a history-making vice president who could be his heir apparent. No president since Lyndon Johnson in 1968 has opted not to run for re-election.Still, a nexus of anxious currents in the Democratic Party has stoked speculation about a possible contested primary in two years. On top of concerns about Mr. Biden’s age and present unpopularity, there is an overarching fear among Democrats of the possibility of a Trump comeback — and a determination that the party must run a strong candidate to head it off.Should Mr. Biden change his mind and bow out of 2024, there is no consensus among Democrats about who the best alternative might be.Vice President Kamala Harris is the obvious choice for Democrats if Mr. Biden does not run in 2024. But she has had her own problems and would almost certainly face opposition.  Sarahbeth Maney/The New York TimesThe list of potential candidates starts with Ms. Harris and includes the high-profile transportation secretary, Pete Buttigieg — the two candidates most discussed in Washington — as well as a collection of former presidential candidates like Senators Elizabeth Warren of Massachusetts and Amy Klobuchar of Minnesota.Senator Richard Blumenthal of Connecticut said that if such a race unfolded, it would be “a real mud fight in the good old-fashioned sense of Democratic fights.” If there “ever were rules” in presidential nominating contests, he added, “they no longer hold.”Two Democrats who ran for president in the last election said they fully anticipated Mr. Biden would run again, but they notably did not rule out running themselves if he declined to do so.“He’s running, I expect to support him and help him get re-elected,” Ms. Warren said. “I’m sticking with that story.”Senator Amy Klobuchar ran for president in 2020 and has not ruled out running again.Anna Moneymaker for The New York TimesMs. Klobuchar, who told influential Democrats last year that she’d be interested in running again, said of Mr. Biden: “He has said he’s going to run again, and I take him at his word, and that’s all I’m going to say.”A number of well-known party officials, Mr. Biden most notable among them, deferred to Hillary Clinton in 2016, leaving a sizable opening in the field that was filled by Senator Bernie Sanders. The surprising strength of Mr. Sanders’s candidacy and Mrs. Clinton’s subsequent loss to Mr. Trump upended assumptions about what was possible in today’s politics and soured many in the party on coronations.Similarly, the meteoric rise of Mr. Buttigieg in the 2020 primary has emboldened aspiring Democrats, who took the prominence of an under-40 mayor of a small city as yet more evidence that voters have a broad imagination about who can serve as commander in chief.Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg is a staple of speculation about presidential candidates if Mr. Biden does not seek a second term. Sarah Silbiger for The New York TimesMost delicate for Democrats are Ms. Harris’s struggles and the question of whether she would be the most formidable post-Biden nominee. In a party that celebrates its diversity and relies on Black and female voters to win at every level of government, it would be difficult to challenge the first Black and first female vice president.Yet recent history provides few examples of vice presidents who have claimed the White House without a strenuous nomination fight. The last two vice presidents to win the presidency, George H.W. Bush and Mr. Biden, faced tumultuous primary contests on their way to the White House.There is little reason to expect a smoother path for Ms. Harris.Even Ms. Harris’s allies are alarmed at the steady stream of stories about her difficulties and a recent staff exodus.“Everything must change, from optics to policy to personnel,” said Donna Brazile, a former Democratic National Committee chair who is close to Ms. Harris’s advisers. “She’s done a lot of good stuff, but no one talks about the achievements.”“If Biden announces that he will not run in 2024,” she added, “it’s open sesame.”Potential aspirants could include other figures in the Biden administration.Mitch Landrieu, the former New Orleans mayor, is now in charge of carrying out Mr. Biden’s trillion-dollar infrastructure program. Doug Mills/The New York TimesMitch Landrieu, the former mayor of New Orleans who is now leading the implementation of Mr. Biden’s trillion-dollar infrastructure law, considered running for president in 2020, and some of his allies have quietly promoted him as a potentially formidable candidate in the future.Mr. Landrieu rebuilt his city after the ravages of Hurricane Katrina and drew national acclaim for an address he delivered in 2017 heralding the removal of Confederate statues from New Orleans.The Rev. Al Sharpton said Mr. Landrieu would be “a very interesting candidate” if Mr. Biden did not run again.“He knows how to work the South; he knows how to work with Black and brown communities,” Mr. Sharpton said. “And having a high-profile position on infrastructure doesn’t hurt.”Mr. Sharpton said that he heard regularly from Ms. Harris and that Mr. Buttigieg, who struggled to win even nominal support from voters of color in 2020, “has stayed in touch on a monthly basis.”Mr. Biden’s commerce secretary, Gina Raimondo, has also expressed interest in the White House in the past.Commerce Secretary Gina Raimondo has expressed interest in the past about a presidential run. Stefani Reynolds for The New York TimesIn the run-up to the 2020 election, Ms. Raimondo, then the governor of Rhode Island, told an informal adviser that she believed there was a path to the presidency for someone of her experience and background. But Ms. Raimondo, a leader of her party’s moderate wing, recently told an associate she was “out of the politics business.”Yet should Mr. Biden rule out a second campaign, there are also Democrats who believe the party would be better off turning to a leader from outside Washington rather than recruiting from within a weary administration.At the governor’s conference in New Orleans over the weekend, circumspect questions about Mr. Biden’s age and Ms. Harris’s vulnerabilities dotted the corridor and cocktail conversations.Mr. Cooper already has donors encouraging him to consider a bid, according to Democrats familiar with the conversations.Should Gov. Gretchen Whitmer of Michigan survive a difficult re-election next year in one of the most critical presidential battlegrounds, she, too, will immediately be nudged to consider a bid.“She’s been a terrific governor at a very difficult time,” said Senator Debbie Stabenow of Michigan, suggesting Ms. Whitmer could be a strong candidate while also taking care to note that “our vice president is extremely talented.”Gov. Phil Murphy of New Jersey appears to be gauging his presidential prospects.Bryan Anselm for The New York TimesGov. Phil Murphy of New Jersey, having survived a harder-than-expected re-election last month in a dismal political environment, could also run. A onetime Goldman Sachs executive and Democratic donor, he was named ambassador to Germany by former President Barack Obama.Since his victory, Mr. Murphy has had a series of conversations with prominent Democrats, including a dinner at a well-known New Orleans restaurant with the strategist James Carville that caught the eye of a number of other governors and conference attendees.There’s also Gov. J.B. Pritzker of Illinois, a billionaire who has worked to stabilize his state’s finances and enact progressive policies, like a $15 minimum wage, since his election in 2018. A longtime financial benefactor of national Democrats, Mr. Pritzker may face a competitive race for re-election in 2022.While allies say that Mr. Pritzker has expressed no specific intention to run for president in 2024 if Mr. Biden bows out, he has talked privately about his interest in seeking the White House at some point should the opportunity arise.His advisers tried to tamp down the prospect, at least for now. “Governor Pritzker is focused on addressing the challenges facing the people of Illinois and is not spending any time on D.C.’s favorite parlor game: Who will run for President next,” said Emily Bittner, his spokeswoman. She said the governor “wholeheartedly supports” Mr. Biden and Ms. Harris and expected them to be re-elected.Still, the talk is abundant — at least in private.Mr. Trump’s vengeance campaign against Gov. Brian Kemp of Georgia, for example, has Democrats wondering whether Stacey Abrams could take advantage of the Republican disarray to win the state’s governorship and then mount a presidential bid.Recognizing that such speculation could be used against Ms. Abrams in the governor’s race, her campaign manager insisted last week that if she were elected next year, Ms. Abrams would serve a full term. More

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    For Texas Governor, Hard Right Turn Followed a Careful Rise

    Greg Abbott’s shift will face a test in next year’s election, but he has demonstrated during his career a keen sense of the political winds.AUSTIN — Gov. Greg Abbott surprised some on his staff when he arrived at his office this fall with plans for a new pandemic decree: a ban on mandated vaccinations by private employers in Texas. The decision was a stark departure for the two-term governor, an intrusion into business decisions of the sort Mr. Abbott had long opposed — and had indeed opposed just two months earlier. “Private businesses don’t need government running their business,” a spokeswoman had said then.His about-face drew criticism from major Texas business groups, from corporations like American Airlines and from a powerful player in local Republican politics, Texans for Lawsuit Reform. It also prompted frustration among some of the governor’s staff.Those who have known Mr. Abbott and watched his rise — from lawyer to state court judge to attorney general and, ultimately, to governor — have been stunned at his sudden alignment with the Republican Party’s most strident activists.But as a governor with a keen sense of the political winds, in a state where Republican domination remains complete, his ban on vaccine mandates was in keeping with his penchant for reading the moment. And at this moment, even in business-centered Texas, corporate interests are out and cultural concerns are in.He is overseeing an audit of the 2020 results in four large counties in Texas, a state that the former president, Donald J. Trump, won by more than 5 points. He called for and signed into law restrictions on transgender athletes after appearing content, four years earlier, to watch bathroom restrictions on transgender Texans fail in the face of opposition from businesses. He went from a mask mandate last year to a ban on such orders this spring.His rightward shift will be tested next year as he faces his most well-known and well-funded Democratic challenger yet, Beto O’Rourke, who announced his run late last month. Their contest raises the question of how far right a Texas governor can go and still hold on against a rising tide of Democrats in the state’s largest cities and suburbs.The election is also an important test of Mr. Abbott’s strength on the national stage, where he is frequently mentioned alongside potential non-Trump presidential candidates like Gov. Ron DeSantis of Florida, even as his aides insist he is not interested. His attacks on Mr. O’Rourke have doubled as attacks on President Biden.These days, Mr. Abbott finds himself torn between the even-keeled conservative approach that has brought him favor in Texas business circles and an intense focus on winning in the evolving Republican Party, according to interviews with many current and former advisers and more than two dozen friends, former colleagues, elected officials and political strategists.His vaccine mandate ban was not enough for ultraconservatives, who have been demanding a special legislative session to codify his order. At the same time, businesses and hospitals have largely moved forward on existing or planned vaccination requirements, and the state has done little if anything to enforce the ban, industry groups said.More than 200 lives were lost during the winter storm that caused power outages in Texas in February.Tamir Kalifa for The New York TimesWhen Mr. Abbott first ran for governor, in 2014, he presented a more moderate side when facing the Democratic state representative Wendy Davis. An ad in Spanish featured his wife, Cecilia, the granddaughter of Mexican immigrants. Another had him rolling in his wheelchair — he is paralyzed from the waist down from an accident in 1984 — across a map to show businesses leaving California for Texas.But as Republicans have strengthened their hold on state government, Mr. Abbott has seen challenges from his party’s animated base. This year, Mr. Abbott has joined with the firebrand lieutenant governor, Dan Patrick, backing perhaps the most conservative legislative sessions in Texas history..css-1xzcza9{list-style-type:disc;padding-inline-start:1em;}.css-3btd0c{font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-size:1rem;line-height:1.375rem;color:#333;margin-bottom:0.78125rem;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-3btd0c{font-size:1.0625rem;line-height:1.5rem;margin-bottom:0.9375rem;}}.css-3btd0c strong{font-weight:600;}.css-3btd0c em{font-style:italic;}.css-1kpebx{margin:0 auto;font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-weight:700;font-size:1.125rem;line-height:1.3125rem;color:#121212;}#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-1kpebx{font-family:nyt-cheltenham,georgia,’times new roman’,times,serif;font-weight:700;font-size:1.375rem;line-height:1.625rem;}@media (min-width:740px){#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-1kpebx{font-size:1.6875rem;line-height:1.875rem;}}@media (min-width:740px){.css-1kpebx{font-size:1.25rem;line-height:1.4375rem;}}.css-1gtxqqv{margin-bottom:0;}.css-1g3vlj0{font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-size:1rem;line-height:1.375rem;color:#333;margin-bottom:0.78125rem;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-1g3vlj0{font-size:1.0625rem;line-height:1.5rem;margin-bottom:0.9375rem;}}.css-1g3vlj0 strong{font-weight:600;}.css-1g3vlj0 em{font-style:italic;}.css-1g3vlj0{margin-bottom:0;margin-top:0.25rem;}.css-19zsuqr{display:block;margin-bottom:0.9375rem;}.css-12vbvwq{background-color:white;border:1px solid #e2e2e2;width:calc(100% – 40px);max-width:600px;margin:1.5rem auto 1.9rem;padding:15px;box-sizing:border-box;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-12vbvwq{padding:20px;width:100%;}}.css-12vbvwq:focus{outline:1px solid #e2e2e2;}#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-12vbvwq{border:none;padding:10px 0 0;border-top:2px solid #121212;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-rdoyk0{-webkit-transform:rotate(0deg);-ms-transform:rotate(0deg);transform:rotate(0deg);}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-eb027h{max-height:300px;overflow:hidden;-webkit-transition:none;transition:none;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-5gimkt:after{content:’See more’;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-6mllg9{opacity:1;}.css-qjk116{margin:0 auto;overflow:hidden;}.css-qjk116 strong{font-weight:700;}.css-qjk116 em{font-style:italic;}.css-qjk116 a{color:#326891;-webkit-text-decoration:underline;text-decoration:underline;text-underline-offset:1px;-webkit-text-decoration-thickness:1px;text-decoration-thickness:1px;-webkit-text-decoration-color:#326891;text-decoration-color:#326891;}.css-qjk116 a:visited{color:#326891;-webkit-text-decoration-color:#326891;text-decoration-color:#326891;}.css-qjk116 a:hover{-webkit-text-decoration:none;text-decoration:none;}He has done so even with a nearly $60 million campaign war chest and an early endorsement from Mr. Trump, who often calls the governor on his cellphone. (Mr. Trump has done so to press for the 2020 audit.)He has maintained an air of confidence and has offered guidance to fellow Republican governors, particularly those recently elected. As the pandemic hit, Mr. Abbott organized weekly calls among them to discuss policy, and he has led them in bucking the Biden administration and creating a separate, state-run criminal justice approach to migrants.And his aggressive attacks on Mr. Biden over the border have garnered him regular appearances on Fox News.“Greg is an arch, arch far-right conservative, which remains a shock to me,” said Pearson Grimes, a partner at the law firm where Mr. Abbott worked in the 1980s after a falling tree paralyzed him from the waist down. Mr. Grimes helped the future governor find a lawyer for his suit over the accident.“When I knew him long ago,” Mr. Grimes said, “I never would have dreamed that this would be his politics.”Mr. Abbott, who conducts few news conferences, declined requests to speak for this article. His press secretary, Renae Eze, described him in an email as an “unwavering conservative leader” and “defender of constitutional and fundamental rights,” a man driven by his belief in “Texas exceptionalism” and the need to protect it.Former President Donald Trump and Texas Gov. Greg Abbott visit an unfinished section of border wall in Pharr, Tx., in June.Eric Gay/Associated PressA Life-altering InjuryMr. Abbott, 63, was born in the small town of Wichita Falls, Texas, northwest of Dallas, and later moved to Duncanville, just south of the city. His father died of a heart attack while Mr. Abbott was in high school, and his mother, who had been staying at home, went to work to support him and his older brother, Gary, who goes by the nickname Bud.By the time he attended Vanderbilt Law School, Mr. Abbott was already married, having met his wife at the University of Texas. “He wasn’t particularly political as I recall in those years,” said Fred Frost, a law school friend who is now executive counsel at ExxonMobil.It was during a jog with Mr. Frost through Houston’s affluent River Oaks neighborhood that Mr. Abbott’s life changed: An oak tree crashed down on him with enough force to crush a nearby Cadillac. Mr. Abbott, who was just 26, immediately lost sensation in his legs.He was determined to rebound. Mr. Frost recalled one night out in Houston watching Mr. Abbott park his maroon two-door sedan at a restaurant, grab his wheelchair, vault himself into it and roll around to the passenger side to open the door for his wife.Mr. Abbott secured a settlement including payments for the rest of his life, so far about $8 million in total.The settlement did not stop Mr. Abbott from later becoming a strong advocate for limits to personal injury lawsuits. And as a young lawyer in Houston, he defended the city’s bus system in personal injury cases.Since his accident, his wheelchair has been intertwined with his professional identity. As governor, it has allowed him to connect in moments of tragedy, aides said, such as after the mass shooting in 2019 at a Walmart in El Paso that left 23 dead, or after Hurricane Harvey in 2017.Still, despite his personal story, Texas political observers often lament that Mr. Abbott lacks the outsized personality of his immediate predecessors, Ann Richards, George W. Bush and Rick Perry.“He’s conservative with a small ‘c’ — that is, careful,” said Robert Stein, a Rice University professor of political science.Mr. Abbott has bristled at challenges from his right by Don Huffines, a former state senator, and by Allen West, a former Florida congressman who briefly led the Republican Party of Texas. While polls show Mr. Abbott broadly popular among Republican voters, he has appeared focused on the small number who have shifted away from him.Even before his campaign began, he was crisscrossing the state to meet Republican voters and holding huge invite-only telephone town halls. He frequently blocks out his daily schedule for eight hours of fund-raising calls.Texas Governor Greg Abbott prays after a candlelight vigil in El Paso after more than 20 people were killed in a mass shooting at a Walmart.Ivan Pierre Aguirre/EPA, via ShutterstockFirst-term TestAn early test of Mr. Abbott’s leadership came during his first year as governor, as conspiracy theories grew in conservative circles that a United States military exercise, known as Jade Helm 15, was actually a secret plot to take over Texas. Mr. Abbott wanted to say something.“People had been engaging him on Twitter,” one adviser said. “He felt compelled to respond. To him, these are the grass-roots people who are engaged in the politics of the party. They’re the ones who knock on doors for you.”The governor eventually decided to direct the Texas State Guard, part of the state’s military department, to “monitor” the operation.To some of his aides, it was a mistake. For his Democratic critics, the moment was emblematic of a governor unwilling to stand up to his party’s fringe.“Abbott is just a guy who, in my opinion, he’s always afraid of something,” said Chris Turner, the Democratic leader in the Texas House.Before the pandemic, Mr. Abbott had been able to unite the business-oriented wing of the party with its right-most fringe. But as the coronavirus tore across the state last year, Mr. Abbott faced a critical moment. In July 2020, he issued a statewide mask mandate, a decision aides said he made by following his own mantra to ignore the politics and “do what’s right.”It did not go over well with some conservatives. The backlash helped spur insurgent energy and gave his Republican challengers an issue.Mr. Huffines, his most vocal primary opponent, also pushed the governor on a border wall, calling in May for the state to build one. By June, Mr. Abbott had announced his intention to construct one.And days before Mr. Abbott decided to bar businesses from mandating vaccinations, Mr. Huffines called on the governor to do just that. “No Texan should lose their job because they don’t want to get a Covid vaccine,” Mr. Huffines said in a news release.Mr. Abbott has taken up policies that are identical to much more conservative members of his party. Callaghan O’Hare for The New York TimesIt was the same message that Mr. Abbott’s aides said the governor had been hearing for weeks from everyday Texas at events across the state.When Mr. Abbott told his staff that he wanted to issue the order, a discussion followed, aides said. Some opposed the move. After a debate among staff, Mr. Abbott decided to go ahead with the order.David Carney, his campaign adviser, said Mr. Abbott wanted to protect small businesses from laying off workers because of President Biden’s “bumbling, incoherent” policy of mandating vaccinations for those with 100 or more employees, which is set to take effect Jan. 4 and which Mr. Abbott contested last month in federal court.“This always was driven by small businesses,” Mr. Carney said, and not by Republican primary politics at all. More

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    So You Lost the Election. We Had Nothing to Do With It.

    Among Democrats, there is no question that the Democratic Party is sailing in rough waters. Yes, it assembled a winning national majority in the 2020 presidential election, but it has struggled to sustain itself at every other level of government.The Republican Party controls a majority of states and state legislatures, holds a modest advantage in the fight for control of the House ahead of the 2022 midterm elections and holds a substantial advantage in the fight for control of the Senate on account of the chamber’s rural bias. It also has a 6-3 majority on the Supreme Court and can more easily win the Electoral College — and thus the presidency — without winning a majority of votes, as it did in 2000 and 2016.Everyone, within the Democratic Party, can see the problem. The question is who, or what, is to blame. For the past year, the answer from many moderate Democrats — and a sympathetic coterie of journalists, commentators and strategists — is that progressives have sailed the ship aground with their views on race, crime, immigration and education, which alienate potential swing voters, including working-class and blue-collar Hispanics.Writing on this problem for The Atlantic, Ron Brownstein quotes the demographer and election analyst Ruy Teixeira, who argues, “The more working class voters see their values as being at variance with the Democratic Party brand, the less likely it is that Democrats will see due credit for even their measures that do provide benefits to working class voters.”In a similar piece, my colleague Tom Edsall quotes William Galston of Brookings, who also argues that progressives threaten to limit efforts to win blue-collar support and that “Some progressives, I fear, would rather be the majority in a minority party than the minority in a majority party.”It is true that some progressives — either Democratic lawmakers or affiliated activists — hold unpopular views or use unpopular language. It is also true that Republicans have amplified this to some electoral success. But missing in this conversation is one inconvenient fact: Progressives are not actually in the driver’s seat of the Democratic Party.It’s easy to think otherwise. Even the most sober version of this critique makes it sound as if the Democratic Party is in the grip of its most left-wing officials and constituents. But it isn’t — to the dismay and frustration of those officials and constituents.The president of the United States, and leader of the Democratic Party, is Joe Biden, the standard-bearer for a bygone era of centrist governance and aisle-crossing compromise, who made his mark in domestic politics as a drug warrior in the 1980s and a “law and order” Democrat in the 1990s.The speaker of the House is Nancy Pelosi, a long-serving liberal establishmentarian. Her leadership team — the majority leader, Steny Hoyer; the majority whip, James Clyburn; the assistant speaker, Katherine Clark; and the Democratic caucus chairman, Hakeem Jeffries — are similarly positioned in the center-left of the Democratic Party. The same is true of Chuck Schumer, the majority leader in the Senate, as well as the people who run the various organizations of the institutional Democratic Party.Although the share of progressives within the Democratic Party is much larger than the share of progressives writ large (12 percent of the party versus 6 percent nationally, according to the most recent political typology survey from the Pew Research Center), a large majority of Democrats are moderate to moderately liberal on most issues. That’s why — and how — Joe Biden won the nomination for president in the first place, easily beating his more left-wing opponents in the South Carolina primary and rallying much of the rest of the party behind him on Super Tuesday and beyond.In office, Biden has led from the center of the Democratic Party. His main legislative achievement so far, Covid relief notwithstanding, is a bipartisan infrastructure bill. The next phase of his agenda, the Build Back Better plan, now rests in the hands of the most conservative Democrats in Congress. He does not celebrate violent protests; he denounces them. He supports law enforcement and the criminal justice system — see his comments on the Kyle Rittenhouse verdict — and avoids most cultural battles. This is true, as well, of most elected Democrats in Washington.There was a battle for control of the Democratic Party, and the moderates won. They hold the power and they direct the message. But despite this victory, moderate Democrats and their allies can’t seem to take responsibility for the party’s fortunes. When faced with defeats — as they were last month when Terry McAuliffe fell to Glenn Youngkin in the race to succeed Ralph Northam as governor of Virginia — they blame the left. It’s the same song, each time. If progressives would just stop alienating the public, then they could make gains and put power back in Democratic hands. Somehow, the people in the passenger’s seat of the Democratic Party are always and forever responsible for the driver’s failure to reach their shared destination.Writing for his newsletter, the journalist Osita Nwanevu made a version of this point earlier in the year. Progressive politicians and activists may be occasionally off-message but in the main, “The simple truth is that most of the things moderate liberals tend to argue Democrats should be doing and saying are, in fact, being done and said by the Biden administration, Democratic leaders in Congress, and the vast majority of Democratic elected officials.”If, despite their influence, moderate Democrats are not satisfied with the state of their party, then they might want to turn their critical eye on themselves. What they’ll find are a few fundamental problems that may help explain the party’s current predicament.After all, 2020 was not the first year that Democrats fell short of their expectations. They did so in 2010, when moderates had an even stronger grip on the party, as well as in 2014 and 2016. Here, again, I’ll echo Nwanevu. Despite pitching his administration to the moderate middle — despite his vocal critiques of “identity politics,” his enthusiastic patriotism and his embrace of the most popular Democratic policies on offer — Barack Obama could not arrest the Democratic Party’s slide with blue-collar voters. For the past decade, in other words, “the Democratic Party’s electoral prospects have been in decline for reasons unattributable to progressive figures and ideas that arrived on the political scene practically yesterday.”Perhaps the problem, then, lies less with the rhetoric (or existence) of progressive Democrats and more with any number of transformations in the material circumstances of American life and the response — or lack thereof — from the Democrats with the power to do something. What was the Democratic Party’s response to a generation of neoliberal economic restructuring? What was its response to the near-total collapse of private-sector unions? What was its response to the declining fortunes of American workers and the upward redistribution of American wealth?The answer, for most of the past 30 years, is that the moderate Democrats who led the party have either acquiesced in these trends or, as in the case of the Clinton administration, actively pushed them along. And to the extent that these Democrats offered policies targeted to working Americans, they very often failed to deliver on their promises.As a result, as David Dayen of The American Prospect notes in “The Case for Deliverism,” “cynicism finds a breeding ground. People tune out the Democratic message as pretty words in a speech. Eventually, Democratic support gets ground down to a nub, surfacing only in major metropolitan areas that have a cultural affinity for liberalism.” These Democrats, in their failure to deliver, lend credence to the view that Washington is more a hindrance than a help. We can see this right now, as moderate and conservative Democratic resistance to the most ambitious parts of Biden’s agenda has bogged down the entire party and hurt its overall standing.Read in this light, the frequent focus on progressives as the cause of Democratic woes looks less like hard-nosed analysis and more like excuse-making. And my sense is that this excuse-making will only get worse as Republicans weaponize the institutions of American politics to entrench their power and lay the conditions for durable minority rule.Right now, the moderate Democrats who run the party have a narrow and slipping hold on Congress against an opposition that relies on structural advantages, which could be mitigated, or at least undermined, with federal power. They have failed to act, and there’s no sign, so far, that anything will change.If and when Democrats lose one or both chambers of Congress — and when we all face the consequences of their failure — I am confident that we’ll hear, once again, how it’s everyone’s fault but their own.The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips. And here’s our email: letters@nytimes.com.Follow The New York Times Opinion section on Facebook, Twitter (@NYTopinion) and Instagram. More

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    William Hartmann, 63, Michigan Official Who Disputed Election, Dies

    He refused to certify Joseph Biden’s victory over Donald Trump in Detroit but later relented. A foe of Covid vaccines, he was hospitalized with the virus.William Hartmann, one of two Republican election officials from Michigan who initially refused to certify the results of the 2020 presidential election in Wayne County, where Joe Biden had trounced Donald J. Trump, died on Nov. 30 at a hospital in Wyandotte, Mich., near Detroit. He was 63. About two weeks before Mr. Hartmann’s death, which was confirmed by the Michigan Republican Party, his sister, Elizabeth Hartmann, wrote on Facebook that he was “in ICU with Covid pneumonia and currently on a ventilator.” Mr. Hartmann had been outspoken in his opposition to Covid vaccines.He drew national attention after he and another Republican member of the Wayne County Board of Canvassers, Monica Palmer, refused to certify the election results. Mr. Biden had won the county, which includes the city of Detroit, with 68 percent of the vote, compared with 31 percent for Mr. Trump.The two election officials pointed to minor recording discrepancies involving a few hundred votes, though the discrepancies had no effect on the outcome: Mr. Biden won the county by more than 330,000 votes. But their refusal to certify the results left the Wayne County board, made up of two Republicans and two Democrats, deadlocked. It also threatened to hold up the certification of Michigan’s entire vote.Their action, The New York Times wrote, “was a stunningly partisan move that would have potentially disenfranchised hundreds of thousands of voters from a predominantly Black city.”It also contributed to the chaos and confusion that spread across the nation as Mr. Trump became increasingly adamant in falsely asserting that he had actually won the election.The two officials’ stance prompted hundreds of outraged Michigan voters and civil rights activists to immediately hold a Zoom call and accuse the two of trying to subvert the election. A few hours later, Mr. Hartmann and Ms. Palmer certified the results and approved the official tallies.But that led Mr. Trump to personally call them, The Associated Press reported, and shortly thereafter, the officials tried to rescind their votes certifying the results, saying they had been bullied into doing so. They were unable to change their votes back, however, and the Board of State Canvassers went on to certify Michigan’s statewide results. Mr. Biden won the state’s 16 electoral votes with 50.6 percent of the vote to Mr. Trump’s 47.8 percent.Mr. Hartmann was born on Aug. 30, 1958, but little other information about his background is publicly available, and attempts to reach his family were unsuccessful.On his Facebook page, he indicated a long involvement with the Republican Party. He listed his alias as “Taxed Enough Already” and called himself an “international man of mystery.”Mr. Hartmann described himself as the owner of the All In One Campaign, a collaboration of consultants who advise candidates on election strategy; the chief executive and technical engineer at Synergy Services, which calls itself a consulting firm “with a focus on federal and state contracting, along with political consultation”; and the owner and chief executive of Custom Renovation, a building renovation service, in Wyandotte.As The Times reported during the election dispute, Mr. Hartmann had filled his Facebook page with false allegations and conspiracy theories that the 2020 results had been manipulated against Mr. Trump. He said that he was harassed after the Nov. 17 episode, that law enforcement officers had to escort him away from his home to safety, and that he did not emerge for a week.“I was afraid that somebody might recognize me when I was out and want to beat me up,” he told the right-wing news organization The Epoch Times last December. He said he had been pursued by the news media and had received more than 1,500 hate emails.His sister began posting updates regarding his health on Facebook last month after he had contracted Covid. But she said she stopped once the news brought unwanted attention to her family.“Bill is fighting for his life and why someone would want to use this time for their political vomit is disgusting and sad,” she wrote. “My brother is a kind, giving, honest, outstanding man.”Online tributes called him a patriot and a true conservative.Mr. Hartmann made it clear on his own social media accounts that he did not believe in Covid vaccines. He suggested that vaccine passports, showing proof of vaccination, were something out of Nazi Germany. More

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    Democrats' Infighting Only Helps Republicans

    The other day, something extraordinary happened. I went six hours — maybe even seven — without seeing anything on the internet about what a disaster Kamala Harris is.I must have been haunting the wrong sites. I’d clearly failed to check in with Twitter. Whatever the reason, I had a reprieve from Democratic carping about Democratic crises that reflected Democratic disunity and brimmed with Democratic doomsaying. Being briefly starved of it made me even more aware of the usual buffet — and of Democrats’ insatiable hunger for devouring their own.To follow Harris’s media coverage, made possible by the keening and wailing of her Democratic colleagues and Democratic analysts, she’s not merely mismanaging an apparently restless, frustrated staff. She’s bursting into flames and incinerating everything in her midst, including Democrats’ hopes of holding on to the White House in 2024.The chatter around Joe Biden is hardly cheerier. Riveted by low approval ratings for him that they’ve helped to create, Democrats in government murmur to Democrats in the media that he’s in dire political straits — which is partly true, thanks in some measure to all those fellow Democrats. As Jonathan Chait wrote recently in a cover story for New York magazine, Biden is trapped “between a well-funded left wing that has poisoned the party’s image with many of its former supporters and centrists unable to conceive of their job in any terms save as valets for the business elite.”“Biden’s party has not veered too far left or too far right so much as it has simply come apart,” Chait added. And it has done so noisily, its internal discontents as public as can be.These intraparty recriminations aren’t unusual in and of themselves: Democrats have never possessed Republicans’ talent for unity. But the intensity of the anger and angst are striking, especially given the stakes. A Republican takeover of Congress in 2022 and of the presidency two years later would endanger more than the social safety net. It would imperil democracy itself.“Democrats, big and small D, are not behaving as if they believe the threat is real,” Barton Gellman wrote for The Atlantic this month. “Some of them, including President Joe Biden, have taken passing rhetorical notice, but their attention wanders. They are making a grievous mistake.”Gellman’s article, titled “Trump’s Next Coup Has Already Begun,” had an apocalyptic tone, matched by an accompanying note by the magazine’s editor in chief, Jeffrey Goldberg. He wrote that while he prefers to avoid “partisan entanglement,” he and the rest of us must confront the truth: “The leaders of the Republican Party — the soul-blighted Donald Trump and the satraps and lackeys who abet his nefarious behavior — are attempting to destroy the foundations of American democracy. This must be stated clearly, and repeatedly.”Chait put it this way: “It is scarcely an exaggeration to say that the fate of American democracy may hinge on President Joe Biden’s success.”But the media is drawn to, and amplifies, Biden’s failures. The Washington Post columnist Dana Milbank recently collaborated with the data analytics unit of the information company FiscalNote to measure journalists’ treatment of Biden versus Trump, and he concluded that “Biden’s press for the past four months has been as bad as — and for a time worse than — the coverage Trump received for the same four months of 2020.”“My colleagues in the media are serving as accessories to the murder of democracy,” he wrote, later adding: “The country is in an existential struggle between self-governance and an authoritarian alternative. And we in the news media, collectively, have given equal, if not slightly more favorable, treatment to the authoritarians.”That news media includes more Democrats than Republicans. And its naysaying depends on the irascibility and volubility of Democratic officials complaining about other Democratic officials. Democrats don’t need Pelotons: They’ve turned finger pointing into an aerobic workout.Such self-examination and self-criticism are healthy to a point. And Democratic pessimism isn’t unfounded: Polls show real frustration and impatience among Americans, who reliably pin the blame on whoever is in charge. Additionally, the party’s loss in the Virginia governor’s race — and the implications of that — can’t be ignored.But neither can the potential consequences of some Democratic politicians’ refusals to compromise and come together. None of the ideological rifts within the party matter as much as what the current crop of Trump-coddling Republicans might do if given the chance.So enough about Biden’s age, about Harris’s unpopularity, about the impossibility of figuring out precisely the right note of Omicron caution, about lions and tigers and bears, oh my! It’s scary out there, sure. But it’ll be scarier still if Democrats can’t successfully project cooperation, confidence and hope.For the Love of SentencesPismo Beach, Calif., in 1951.Los Angeles Examiner/USC Libraries/Corbis via Getty ImagesYou’re going to giggle or groan at this line by Justin Ray, in The Los Angeles Times, about the disappearance of bivalves from a California beach: “The clam community’s crash created a calamity.” (Thanks to Roy Oldenkamp of West Hollywood, Calif., for spotting and nominating this.)Same goes for this headline on an article in The Bulwark about a certain physician’s recently announced Senate bid: “Dr. Oz Quacks the Code of Republican Politics.” (Steve Read, Nice, France)Here’s Derek Thompson in The Atlantic on the devolution of Congress: “From 1917 to 1970, the Senate took 49 votes to break filibusters, or less than one per year. Since 2010, it has had an average of 80 such votes annually. The Senate was once known as the ‘cooling saucer of democracy,’ where populist notions went to chill out a bit. Now it’s the icebox of democracy, where legislation dies of hypothermia.” (Weigang Qiu, Queens, N.Y.) Derek’s entire article is insightful, thought-provoking and very much worth reading.Here’s Michael J. Lewis in The Wall Street Journal on some of the more untraditional proposals for restoring the Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, damaged from that 2019 fire: “Is that lovely victim, saved in the nick of time and made whole again, now to be whisked, still groggy, straight from the hospital into the tattoo parlor of contemporary art?” (Jim Lader, Bronxville, N.Y., and Kathleen Hopkins, Oak Park, Ill.)In a characteristically tongue-in-cheek commentary in The Washington Post, Alexandra Petri advocated the banning of all books: “They make you cry, show you despair in a handful of dust, counterfeit life in strange ways and cheat you with shadows.” (Irma Wolfson, Irvine, Calif.) I was equally fond of these additional snippets: “Books follow you home and pry open your head and rearrange the things inside.” They “replace your answers with questions or questions with answers.” “They make strange things familiar to you and familiar things strange again.”Moving on to standouts from The Times: Reggie Ugwu profiled Ron Cephas Jones, noting that he’s “the kind of actor who works like chipotle mayo — you don’t always think to look for him, but you’re happy when he shows up.” (Peggy Sweeney, Sarasota, Fla.)Following his return to an area of Alaska that he hadn’t visited in more than 35 years, Jon Waterman contemplated climate change and caribou: “We didn’t see many, but we knew they were out there, somewhere, cantering in synchronized, thousandfold troupes, inches apart yet never jostling one another, their leg tendons a veritable orchestra of clicking castanets, their hooves clattering on stones.” (Harriet Odlum, Bloomfield, Conn., and Robert Lakatos, Glenmoore, Pa.)Adam Friedlander for The New York TimesIn Bret Stephens’s weekly online conversation with Gail Collins, he noted: “The supply-chain situation has gotten so out of hand that there’s even a cream-cheese shortage at New York City bagel shops, which is like one of the 10 biblical plagues as reimagined by Mel Brooks.” (Susan Gregory, Bala Cynwyd, Pa., and Deborah Paulus-Jagric, Landvetter, Sweden, among others)In a review of the Mel Brooks memoir “All About Me!,” Alexandra Jacobs trots out the technical term for fear of heights to fashion this gem: “Brooks himself reads as the opposite of acrophobic: scaling the icy pinnacles of Hollywood without anything more than a pang of self-doubt, using humor as his alpenstock.” (Jennifer Finney Boylan, Rome, Maine)And in a preview of the new limited series on HBO Max “And Just Like That,” which continues and updates “Sex and the City,” Alexis Soloski noted how little about its plot was revealed or known in advance: “Eager fans have analyzed that 30-second teaser clip with the exegetical rigor typically reserved for ancient hieroglyphs.” (Allan Tarlow, West Hollywood, Calif.)To nominate favorite bits of recent writing from The Times or other publications to be mentioned in “For the Love of Sentences,” please email me here, and please include your name and place of residence.Bonus Regan Picture!Mike ValerioMany of you chide me if I go two weeks or more without publishing an image of my furry companion. I love you for that. So here she is, during our walk on Sunday morning. We covered five miles, mostly in the woods, which we had to ourselves, because we headed out early and the weather was cold. She looked for deer and settled for squirrels, sprinting madly toward many of those she spotted. Much about dogs fascinates me but nothing more than their mix of tameness and wildness — of gentleness and ferocity — and the suddenness with which they shift between the two. One minute, a hugger. The next, a huntress. Regal all the while.What I’m Reading (and Watching, and Listening To)The director Jane Campion, right, on the set of “The Power of the Dog.”Kirsty Griffin/NetflixPeople are often more complicated than you imagine. So is life. Both of those truisms animate Bill Adair’s engrossing, moving account, in Air Mail, of Stephen Glass’s journey after he was exposed as one of contemporary journalism’s most prolific and audacious fabulists. Glass went on to tell another big lie. But you may find yourself cheering him for it.Moral complexity: It’s present in the elegant, addictive novels of Amor Towles, and I’m currently listening to, and relishing, his latest, “The Lincoln Highway.” The Times’s adoring review of it is precisely right.A friend and I have argued fiercely over the director Jane Campion’s latest film, “The Power of the Dog,” which is streaming on Netflix. He thinks that it’s genius. I think that it’s overrated — and that, like some of Campion’s other work, it plods at times, more cerebral than visceral, a bid for your admiration rather than your involvement. But the intensity of our back-and-forth means that there’s plenty in “Dog” to chew on. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.) I’m glad I watched it.On a Personal NoteI’m sick of the sound of my own voice.I know, I know: Writing those words is like wearing a “kick me” sign. The obvious rejoinder is that you’re sick of my voice, too. But you’d mean my musings, my opinions, and I mean the actual sound of my audible voice. I mean that I’ve been in a recording studio for much of this week, talking and talking and talking into a microphone.My next book is done — more on that below — and for the audio format, the publishers asked me to be the one to read it aloud. That made abundant sense: The book is largely about my own experiences, with long stretches in the first person. But, still, I was hoping they’d recruit someone else.That’s because I’ve done this twice previously, for earlier books, and it’s no cakewalk. (Or should that be caketalk?) You have to go slowly and enunciate clearly, and if you bobble a word, you redo much of the sentence or even paragraph. Forward, backward, forward, backward. You’re a Sisyphus of syllables.For my memoir “Born Round,” I was in a studio in Manhattan devoted to audiobooks. I noticed a basket of muffins and bagels right outside the airless, soundproof booth in which the reader sits. “How hospitable!” I thought.No. How strategic. Many readers, like me, have skipped breakfast and may be planning, for efficiency’s sake, to skip lunch. Their stomachs growl. Mine did. And the microphone picked it up. The solution was a chunk of sound-muffling starch.The studio’s technicians told me that some of the actors hired to record novels refuse those calories. So blankets are wrapped around their tiny waists, to silence hunger’s roar.The studio I’ve been using this week is here in Chapel Hill, N.C., just a 15-minute drive from my house. I’ve eaten a light breakfast each morning; my stomach has behaved. And so the audio should be ready for release, along with hardcover and digital versions, on March 1.The book, “The Beauty of Dusk: On Vision Lost and Found,” is about my brush with the prospect of blindness and how that changed the way I look at setbacks and limits and aging. And I mention it in part as a segue into an update on my eyes, which many of you kindly and regularly ask about.My right eye will forever be useless for reading, computer work and the like, but my left eye hangs in there, undiminished. The nature of what happened to me, a kind of stroke of the optic nerve, is such that if my left eye does fail me, it is likely to do so in an instant. There’s perhaps a 20 percent chance of that.So I’ll be good until I’m not. But even then, I’ll manage. That’s what I’ve come to see. That’s what the book is really about: acceptance, resilience, optimism. It describes the honing of those qualities. It’s also the fruit of them.It’s alchemy — trepidation into determination — or at least intends to be. And the opportunity to tell my story is a privilege, as is the invitation to perform it, no matter how Sisyphean. I shush my stomach. I clear my throat. I raise my voice. I even make peace with it. More

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    President Biden Praises Bob Dole in Ceremony at the Capitol

    WASHINGTON — Beneath the dome of the Capitol he loved, Bob Dole was celebrated on Thursday for wit and grace, principle and persistence, but above all for civility and bipartisanship, in a subtle rebuke to a Republican Party that has changed much since Mr. Dole was its standard-bearer.Addressing dignitaries of both parties gathered to honor the son of the Kansas Dust Bowl and a former Senate majority leader, President Biden used Mr. Dole’s own words as a pointed message to adversaries whom he sees as drifting from the moorings of democracy itself.“I cannot pretend that I have not been a loyal champion of my party, but I always served my country best when I did so first and foremost as an American,” Mr. Biden said, quoting what he said were Mr. Dole’s final words to the nation. “When we prioritize principles over party and humanity over personal legacy — when we do that, we accomplish far more as a nation. By leading with shared faith in each other, we become America at its best.”Mr. Dole, who died on Sunday at 98, became only the 30th known man to lie in state in the Capitol Rotunda, its entryways draped in black bunting, his coffin set upon the catafalque built in 1865 to hold the coffin of Abraham Lincoln. One woman, Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, has lain in state in the Capitol, but her coffin was placed in National Statuary Hall, adjacent to the Rotunda.President Biden speaks in the Capitol Rotunda in Washington on Thursday.Sarahbeth Maney/The New York TimesSpeaker Nancy Pelosi rests her hand on the casket of former Senator Bob Dole.Sarahbeth Maney/The New York TimesIn a short ceremony, Senator Mitch McConnell of Kentucky was the only Republican to eulogize Mr. Dole, whom he eclipsed in 2018 as the longest-serving Senate Republican leader. Mr. McConnell honored the man who had been grievously wounded in the Italian campaign during World War II as the last of the “greatest generation” to run for president, in 1996.“Bob was blessed with long life to watch his legacy take effect,” Mr. McConnell said.The Democrats who spoke — Mr. Biden, Speaker Nancy Pelosi of California, and Senator Chuck Schumer of New York, the current majority leader — all extolled virtues in Mr. Dole that they implied were lacking in his successors.Mr. Schumer called him “a principled, pragmatic Kansan” who “never hesitated to work with Democrats.” Ms. Pelosi also spoke of principle, as well as patriotism.But it was the president who used the moment to appeal to the gathering — and the country at large — to rediscover what Americans hold in common.“The truth of the matter is, as divided as we are, the only way forward for democracy is unity, consensus — the only way,” Mr. Biden said. “May we follow his wisdom and his timeless truth and reach consensus on the basic fundamental principles we all agree on.”Thursday morning at the Capitol seemed to recall a less bitter time, in honor of a man who himself spoke to a more perfect union. Not long after Mr. Dole began his presidential campaign, his opponent, Bill Clinton, was impeached amid extraordinary ill will. As Mr. Dole was leaving the Senate in 1996 to assume the mantle of his party’s nominee, he famously took a call from Mr. Clinton, spoke warmly to him and concluded, “I want to just thank you for all the times we’ve been able to work together.”In a short ceremony, Senator Mitch McConnell of Kentucky was the only Republican to eulogize Mr. Dole.Sarahbeth Maney/The New York TimesRepresentative Steny Hoyer of Maryland, the majority leader, right, hugs a guest at the ceremony. Sarahbeth Maney/The New York Just months after Mr. Clinton defeated Mr. Dole, the president awarded his vanquished opponent the Presidential Medal of Freedom.“Upon receiving this medal, Senator Dole challenged us, in his words, ‘not to question American ideals or replace them, but to act worthy of them,’” Ms. Pelosi said.Mr. McConnell recalled a particularly acerbic quote that Mr. Dole had for the conservative “revolutionaries” who helped the Republicans win majorities in both houses of Congress in 1994; the new majority leader said that if he had known Republicans would win the majority, he would have recruited better candidates. The anecdote may have been a dig by Mr. McConnell at his own right flank, which has been working against his efforts to keep the government from defaulting on its debt in the coming weeks.Before the ceremony, the building was buzzing with friendly joshing. Lloyd J. Austin III, the secretary of defense, chatted with Representative Steny H. Hoyer of Maryland, the majority leader. Pat Roberts, a former Republican senator, joined a reunion of fellow Kansans in bidding goodbye to the man from Russell, Kan.Vice President Kamala Harris and her husband, Doug Emhoff, arrive at the ceremony on Thursday.Sarahbeth Maney/The New York Times Mr. Dole’s wife, Elizabeth Dole — who later became a senator and ran for president herself — is escorted to the ceremony.Sarahbeth Maney/The New York TimesAnd in the spirit of bipartisanship that was being celebrated — or mourned — two former Senate majority leaders, Tom Daschle, a Democrat from South Dakota, and Trent Lott, a Republican from Mississippi, met in Mr. McConnell’s office and walked together to the Capitol’s rotunda.The ceremony, in all its solemnity, was known well to Mr. Dole. In one of his last public appearances, he rose from his wheelchair in 2018 to pay his respects to former President George H.W. Bush as he lay in state under the dome, in the geographic center of the nation’s capital. Nine years ago this month, another senator, Daniel K. Inouye of Hawaii, also lay in state and received a send-off from Mr. Dole, a lifelong friend with whom Mr. Inouye had convalesced in a Battle Creek, Mich., military hospital recovering from life-changing war wounds.As Mr. McConnell noted, Mr. Dole had lived long enough to see politics — and his party — change. Just weeks before Mr. Inouye’s death in 2012, Mr. Dole sat slightly slumped in his wheelchair on the Senate floor and accepted the well-wishes of senators he was imploring to vote for a United Nations treaty that would ban discrimination against people with disabilities. He reasoned with them that the United States was already in compliance, and that he merely wanted the rest of the world to recognize the advances that he and other Americans with disabilities already enjoyed.Then, after Mr. Dole’s wife, Elizabeth, rolled him off the floor, Republicans voted down the treaty that the ailing Mr. Dole so longed to see passed — but that they insisted would infringe on American sovereignty.A military honor guard carries the coffin of former Senator Bob Dole into the U.S. Capitol, in Washington on Thursday.Tom Brenner for The New York Times More

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    Can the Press Prevent a Trump Restoration?

    There is a school of thought that holds that if Donald Trump sweeps back into power in 2024, or else loses narrowly but then plunges the United States into the kind of constitutional crisis he sought in 2020, the officially nonpartisan news media will have been an accessory to Trumpism. It will have failed to adequately emphasize Trump’s threat to American democracy, chosen a disastrous evenhandedness over moral clarity and covered President Biden (or perhaps Vice President Kamala Harris) like a normal politician instead of the republic’s last best hope.This view, that media “neutrality” has a tacit pro-Trump tilt, is associated with prominent press critics like Jay Rosen of New York University and the Washington Post’s Margaret Sullivan (formerly this newspaper’s public editor) and it recently found data-driven expression in a column by The Post’s Dana Milbank. In a study “using algorithms that give weight to certain adjectives based on their placement in the story,” Milbank reported that after a honeymoon, Biden’s media coverage has lately been as negative, or even more negative, than Trump’s coverage through most of 2020. Given the perils of a Trump resurgence, Milbank warned, this negativity means that “my colleagues in the media are serving as accessories to the murder of democracy.”I think this point of view is very wrong. Indeed, I think it’s this view of the press’s role that actually empowers demagogues, feeds polarization and makes crises in our system much more likely.To understand why, let’s look at a case study where, at one level, the people emphasizing the press’s obligation to defend democracy have a point. This would be the Georgia Republican primary for governor, which will pit David Perdue, a former senator who lost his re-election bid in a 2021 runoff, against Brian Kemp, the conservative incumbent who is famously hated by Donald Trump.That hatred is the only reason this primary matchup exists: He is angry at Kemp for fulfilling his obligations as Georgia’s governor instead of going along with the “Stop the Steal” charade, he’s eager to see the incumbent beaten, and he’s hoping that either Perdue or Vernon Jones, a more overtly MAGA-ish candidate, can do the job for him.As a result, the Georgia governor’s primary will effectively be a referendum not just on Trump’s general power in the G.O.P. but also on his specific ability to bully Republican elected officials in the event of a contested election. And reporters have an obligation to cover the campaign with that reality in mind, to stress the reasons this matchup is happening and its dangerous implications for how Republican officials might respond to a future attempt to overturn a presidential vote.But now comes the question: Is that the only thing that a responsible press is allowed to report during the campaign? Suppose, for instance, that midway through the race, some huge scandal erupts, involving obvious corruption that implicates Kemp. Should Georgia journalists decline to cover it, because a Kemp loss would empower anti-democratic forces? Or suppose the economy in Georgia tanks just before the primary, or Covid cases surge. Should civic-minded reporters highlight those stories, knowing that they may help Perdue win, or should they bury them, because democracy itself is in the balance?Or suppose a woman comes forward with an allegation of harassment against Perdue that doesn’t meet the normal standards for publication. Should journalists run with it anyway, on the theory that it would be good for American democracy if Perdue goes the way of Roy Moore, and that they can always correct the record later if the story falls apart?You can guess my answers to these questions. They are principled answers, reflecting a journalistic obligation to the truth that cannot be set aside for the sake of certain political results, however desirable for democracy those results may seem.But they are also pragmatic answers, because a journalism that conspicuously shades the truth or tries to hide self-evident realities for the sake of some higher cause will inevitably lose the trust of some of the people it’s trying to steer away from demagogy — undercutting, in the process, the very democratic order that it’s setting out to save.I think this has happened already. There were ways in which the national news media helped Trump in his path through the Republican primaries in 2016, by giving him constant celebrity-level hype at every other candidate’s expense. But from his shocking November victory onward, much of the press adopted exactly the self-understanding that its critics are still urging as the Only Way to Stop Trump — positioning itself as the guardian of democracy, a moral arbiter rather than a neutral referee, determined to make Trump’s abnormal qualities and authoritarian tendencies the central story of his presidency.The results of this mind-set, unfortunately, included a lot of not particularly great journalism. The emergency mentality conflated Trumpian sordidness with something world-historical and treasonous, as in the overwrought Russia coverage seeded by the Steele dossier. It turned figures peripheral to national politics, from Nick Sandmann to Kyle Rittenhouse, into temporary avatars of incipient fascism. It invented anti-Trump paladins, from Michael Avenatti to Andrew Cuomo, who turned out to embody their own sort of moral turpitude. And it instilled an industrywide fear, palpable throughout the 2020 election, of any kind of coverage that might give too much aid and comfort to Trumpism — whether it touched on the summertime riots or Hunter Biden’s business dealings.Now you could argue that at least this mind-set achieved practical success, since Trump did lose in 2020. But he didn’t lose overwhelmingly, he gained voters in places the establishment did not expect, and he was able to turn media hostility to his advantage in his quest to keep control of his party, even in defeat. Meanwhile, the public’s trust in the national press declined during the Trump era and became radically more polarized, with Democrats and Democratic-leaning independents maintaining a certain degree of confidence in the media and Republicans and Republican-leaning independents going very much the other way.This points to the essential problem with the idea that just a little less media neutrality, a little more overt alarmism, would put Trumpism in its place. You can’t suppress a populist insurgency just by rallying the establishment if suspicion of the establishment is precisely what’s generating support for populism in the first place. Instead, you need to tell the truth about populism’s dangers while convincing skeptical readers that you can be trusted to describe reality in full.Which brings us to Joe Biden’s press coverage. I have a lot of doubts about the Milbank negativity algorithms, both because of the methodological problems identified by analysts like Nate Silver and also because, as a newsreader, my sense is that Trump’s negative coverage reflected more stalwart opposition (the president we oppose is being terrible again) while in Biden’s case the negativity often coexists with implicit sympathy (the president we support is blowing it, and we’re upset). But still, there’s no question that the current administration’s coverage has been pretty grim of late.But it’s turned grim for reasons that an objective and serious press corps would need to acknowledge in order to have any credibility at all. Piece by piece, you can critique the media’s handling of the past few months — I think the press coverage of the Afghanistan withdrawal was overwrought, for instance — but here’s the overall picture: A president who ran on restoring normalcy is dealing with a pandemic that stubbornly refuses to depart, rising inflation that his own White House didn’t predict, a border-crossing crisis that was likewise unanticipated, increasing military bellicosity from our major adversaries, stubbornly high homicide rates in liberal cities, a party that just lost a critical gubernatorial race and a stalled legislative agenda.And moreover, he’s confronting all of this while very palpably showing the effects of advancing age, even as his semi-anointed successor appears more and more like the protagonist of her own private “Veep.”Can some of these challenges recede and Biden’s situation improve? No doubt. But a news media charged with describing reality would accomplish absolutely nothing for the country if it tried to bury all these problems under headlines that were always and only about Trump.And one of the people for whom this approach would accomplish nothing is Biden himself. We just had an object lesson in what happens when the public dissatisfied with liberal governance gets a long lecture on why it should never vote Republican because of Trump: That was Terry McAuliffe’s argument in a state that went for Biden by 10 points, and McAuliffe lost. Having the media deliver that lecture nationally is likely to yield the same result for Democrats — not Trumpism’s defeat but their own.Far wiser, instead, to treat negative coverage as an example of the press living up to its primary mission, the accurate description of reality — which is still the place where the Biden administration and liberalism need a better strategy if they hope to keep the country on their side.The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips. And here’s our email: letters@nytimes.com.Follow The New York Times Opinion section on Facebook, Twitter (@NYTOpinion) and Instagram. More