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    Moderate Republicans No Longer Have a Home, and It Started With My Defeat

    Illustration by Sam Whitney/The New York Times; image by Mint Images via Getty ImagesOver the last 30 years, the Republican Party has effectively eliminated its moderate and liberal voices — as well as the conservative voices that put country over party. The consequences of this takeover by an increasingly right-wing faction include the threats to democracy that have become increasingly prominent since the Jan. 6 riots.When I lost my seat in Congress in 1990, I knew it was because I had co-sponsored a bill to ban assault weapons. The National Rifle Association and conservative Republicans in Vermont and elsewhere united to defeat me, calling the independent challenger, Bernie Sanders, the “lesser of two evils.” First, a right-wing candidate challenged me in the Republican primary, then many of his supporters aided the Sanders campaign in the general election.Their plan: Elect Bernie Sanders for one term, then defeat him the next time around. The only problem: They couldn’t weaken him in a primary the same way and consistently failed to beat him in a general election. And the rest is history.I didn’t realize it at the time, but my defeat was an early step in the elimination of the moderate and liberal wing of the Republican Party. That process, aimed at members of Congress and state-level officials, began with the ascent of Newt Gingrich’s style of full-throated partisanship and has continued to this day. When moderates like Senator Olympia Snowe of Maine retired, the party typically nominated more right-wing candidates to succeed them. Over the years, the party’s capture by hard-line activists — and now, as seen in New Hampshire’s primaries last week, election deniers — has resulted in ever more extreme nominees.When Mr. Gingrich was elected Republican minority whip by a single vote in 1989, he and his supporters seemingly had one goal: not to govern, but to control, stifle and stymie Congress. They got less actual governing done as they frustrated Congress’s work, and in many ways their strategy worked.The long-term consequences of their scheme led to the election of Donald Trump and the rise of today’s hard-right extremism. It has also weakened and undermined the Republican Party and multiparty government in states where more liberal general election voters reject hard-liners who become Republican nominees.About three weeks after his election as whip, Mr. Gingrich called me into his office. He asked whether I was having dinner with Democrats. I was, I said: A colleague from Tennessee and I were hosting fellow freshman members for dinner regularly to share experiences. Mr. Gingrich demanded that I stop; he didn’t want Republicans consorting with Democrats.I responded — not overly politely — that I was from Vermont and nobody told me what people I could eat with. But his demand was a harbinger of the decline of moderate and liberal Republicans. (Mr. Gingrich told The Times he did not recall the meeting, but noted that he was working to unify the Republican caucus at the time.)What followed over the next few years was the deliberate quarantining of Republicans from Democrats: separate orientations for new members, a sharp curtailing of bipartisan activities and an increasing insistence that members toe the party line. The very idea of “voting your district” — which was alive and well when I was elected — became anathema within the Republican caucus. Simultaneously, the weaponization of the evangelical religious right and the organization of wealthy conservative donors was going on, largely behind the scenes, with money and organizing often used against moderate Republicans as well as Democrats.Republican Party leaders fueled the shift to the right by promising results to their conservative base that they could not deliver: banning abortion, eliminating the deficit, slashing federal regulations, cracking down on L.G.B.T.Q. rights and greatly cutting taxes. Mr. Gingrich’s “Contract With America” — and the government shutdown it caused — set the stage for decades of unkept promises and primed primary voters to turn against the moderate and liberal elected officials who had once been a critical component of the Republican coalition, especially in the Northeast, when those officials could be readily blamed for not sufficiently supporting the party line.As Republican voters and nominees adopted an increasingly extreme agenda, even a Republican Congress could not produce the results they had promised. While Republican officials delivered significant tax cuts for the very wealthy and, under George W. Bush, put numerous conservatives onto the federal bench, they failed to meaningfully relieve the tax burden for working- and middle-class people or to fully realize any of their culture-war goals, instead seeing same-sex marriage become the law of the land.These failures drove a further rightward shift that resulted in the rise of the Tea Party. And when the Tea Partyers failed to stop President Barack Obama and his Affordable Care Act, we arrived at the 2016 presidential primaries and the rise of Donald Trump. The base of the party had become angry and alienated because the Gingrich-era promises had not been delivered.During this period, some Republicans in the Northeast swam against the tide. Senator Jim Jeffords of Vermont, my predecessor in the U.S. House, became an independent before his retirement. In her last term, Senator Snowe cast a critical vote in committee to put the Affordable Care Act before the full Senate. She believed health care reform merited consideration by the full Senate, not a quiet death in committee. She favored “governing” over “controlling.”But even in New England, long a bastion of liberal and moderate Republicanism, moderates are now losing in Republican primaries. This year, a Trump-backed candidate won the nomination for governor of Massachusetts; candidates endorsed by Donald Trump or who deny the validity of the 2020 election won races in New Hampshire; and Vermont Republicans nominated a right-wing figure for Senate. Increasingly, moderate candidates without a deeply established electoral history are unable to win nomination for major offices.There have been a few moderate and liberal Republican success stories, but they are anomalies, peculiar to the person or the situation. In Vermont, Jim Douglas, governor from 2003 to 2011, and the current governor, Phil Scott, built long electoral careers and personal brands that made them more resistant to hard-right primary challengers. Gov. Charlie Baker of Massachusetts developed a reputation as a competent administrator in the 1990s, long before he ran for office.But the refusal by Gov. Chris Sununu of New Hampshire to run for Senate this year speaks volumes about the culture and philosophy that the national Republican Party and its elected officials are enforcing in primary elections and in Congress. That doctrine has made a national political career less achievable and enticing, even for an extremely popular right-of-center governor like Mr. Sununu.I believe that the current attempts to overthrow our democratic traditions will fail, but we must understand the successes produced by the right wing’s focus on control at all costs over governing.Beyond Mr. Trump’s election, those successes include the numerous right-wing ideologues confirmed to federal judgeships, a major effort to restrict voting rights, the increasing presence of dark money in politics, the elimination of abortion rights and a lack of critical progress in combating the global climate crisis. Moderate figures in the Republican Party opposed many of these policies, from the abortion-rights supporters who were once part of the G.O.P. caucus to environmental advocates like John Anderson, the Illinois representative who ran for president as an independent in 1980.Mr. Gingrich’s style of politics has informed much of what has come since. Under Mr. Trump and his acolytes, the emphasis on power and control has remained, at the expense not only of governing but also of decency.In 1950, Senator Margaret Chase Smith, a moderate Republican from Maine, attacked McCarthyism and its “four horsemen of calumny — fear, ignorance, bigotry and smear.” Republicans today seem to use Smith’s warning as an inspiration, projecting their own worst excesses upon their opponents. There is little room left in the G.O.P. for any disagreement — indeed, of the 10 House Republicans who voted to impeach Mr. Trump, only one appears very likely to be in Congress next January.It may be too late for the Republican Party to again welcome moderate and liberal voices into its ranks. But the focus of moderate and liberal Republicans — both elected officials and the voters who supported us — was historically on governing to solve America’s critical problems, not on accruing control for its own sake. If the Republican Party cannot be an instrument of democracy, independent-minded moderates will do what we’ve always done: Vote our conscience, and vote for someone else.Peter Smith (@PeterPSmith), a Republican, represented Vermont in the House of Representatives from 1989 to 1991. He was the founding president of the Community College of Vermont and California State University, Monterey Bay, and was an assistant director general for education at UNESCO.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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    The Inside Joke That Became Trump’s Big Lie

    Donald Trump’s so-called big lie is not big because of its brazen dishonesty or its widespread influence or its unyielding grip over the Republican Party. It is not even big because of its ambition — to delegitimize a presidency, disenfranchise millions of voters, clap back against reality. No, the lie that Donald Trump won the 2020 election has grown so powerful because it is yoked to an older deception, without which it could not survive: the idea that American politics is, in essence, a joke, and that it can be treated as such without consequence.The big lie depends on the big joke. It was enabled by it. It was enhanced by it. It is sustained by it.When politicians publicly defend positions they privately reject, they are telling the joke. When they give up on the challenge of governing the country for the rush of triggering the enemy, they are telling the joke. When they intone that they must address the very fears they have encouraged or manufactured among their constituents, they are telling the joke. When their off-the-record smirks signal that they don’t really mean what they just said or did, they are telling the joke. As the big lie spirals ever deeper into unreality, with the former president mixing election falsehoods with call-outs to violent, conspiratorial fantasies, the big joke has much to answer for.Recent books like “Why We Did It: A Travelogue From the Republican Road to Hell” by a former Republican operative and campaign consultant, Tim Miller, and “Thank You for Your Servitude: Donald Trump’s Washington and the Price of Submission” by The Atlantic’s Mark Leibovich place this long-running gag at the center of American politics. The big joke drains language of meaning, divorces action from responsibility and enables all manner of lies. “Getting the joke” means understanding that nothing you say need be true, that nobody expects it to be true — at least nobody in the know. “The truth of this scam, or ‘joke,’ was fully evident inside the club,” Leibovich writes. “We’re all friends here. Everyone knew the secret handshake, spoke the native language, and got the joke.”Without the big joke, the big lie would not merit its adjective. Its challenge to democracy would be ephemeral, not existential.The chroniclers of Donald Trump’s election lie typically seek out an origin story, a choose-your-own adventure that always leads to the Capitol steps on Jan. 6, 2021. In his book, “The Big Lie: Election Chaos, Political Opportunism, and the State of American Politics After 2020,” Politico’s Jonathan Lemire pinpoints an August 2016 campaign rally in Columbus, Ohio, during which Trump first suggested that the contest against Hillary Clinton would be rigged against him. This, Lemire writes, was when “the seeds of the big lie had been planted.”Tim Alberta of The Atlantic starts six months earlier, when Trump accused Senator Ted Cruz of Texas of cheating in the Iowa caucuses. “That episode was a bright red, blinking light foreshadowing everything that was to come,” Alberta told PBS Frontline. In “The Destructionists: The Twenty-Five Year Crack-Up of the Republican Party,” the Washington Post columnist (and my former colleague) Dana Milbank offers a far longer accumulation of lies from the right: The notion that Bill and Hillary Clinton were involved in the death of the White House lawyer Vince Foster, the illusions behind President George W. Bush’s invasion of Iraq, the birther concoctions, the death-panel ravings — all building toward the big one. “The G.O.P.’s quarter-century war on facts had come to this, a gargantuan fabrication aimed at discrediting democracy itself,” Milbank sums up. And Leibovich quotes Representative Adam Schiff’s view of how his House colleagues slowly submitted to Trump’s fantasies. “It’s one small lie, followed by a demand for a bigger lie and a bigger concession, a bigger moral lapse, until, you know, these folks that I admired and respected, because I believe that they believe what they were saying, had given themselves up so completely to Donald Trump.”Such accounts reflect the common understanding that the big lie is really all the little lies we told along the way — a cycle of deceit and submission, culminating in a myth so powerful that it transcends belief and becomes a fully formed worldview. Lemire notes how Trump’s assertion that he had been wiretapped by President Barack Obama during the 2016 campaign seemed like a pretty gargantuan lie at the time, one that Trump tweeted “without any evidence.” (Journalists love to note that the former president utters falsehoods “without evidence,” an adorable euphemism for “making stuff up.”) But even this one dissipates in the wake of the big lie. After “big,” the term “unprecedented” may be the election lie’s most common descriptor.But it is not without precedent. After all, what was birtherism if not the same lie? Its underlying racism rendered the grotesque theory about Obama’s birthplace especially repugnant, but the basic assertion is familiar: that a president whom the American people lawfully chose is not legitimate, is something less than the real thing.The 2020 election lie is not bigger than birtherism. History should not remember the effort to delegitimize Obama’s presidency as just another rung on the ladder toward the big lie. The lies are akin even in their power of persuasion. Leibovich recalls how in 2016, 72 percent of Republicans said they believed Trump’s lies about Obama’s background. This figure is comparable with the 71 percent of Republicans who said in late 2021 that they believed President Biden was not a fully legitimate president. And much as support for the 2020 election lie provides a loyalty test in the Trumpified Republican Party, a willingness to believe the worst of Obama was a near-requirement in the party during his presidency. “A testing ground for Republican squishiness was how strongly, and how bitterly, one opposed Obama,” the historian Nicole Hemmer recalls in her new book, “Partisans: The Conservative Revolutionaries Who Remade American Politics in the 1990s,” on the rise of the post-Reagan right. “To match the response of the party’s base, politicians would need to reflect the emotions gripping it.” And they did.For Hemmer, the Republican Party’s evolution from the party of Reagan to the party of Trump began with Pat Buchanan, the White House aide, television pundit and authoritarian-curious presidential candidate who “fashioned grievance politics into an agenda,” she writes — a program that emphasized identity, immigration and race as its battlegrounds. For Milbank, it was Newt Gingrich, the former House speaker, and the “savage politics he pioneered” in advance of the Republican Revolution of 1994. “There was nobody better at attacking, destroying, and undermining those in power,” Milbank writes. Gingrich made compromise a thought crime and labeled his opponents as sick and traitorous, tactics that should also sound familiar.You needn’t pick between Buchanan and Gingrich — it’s enough to say that Buchanan gave the modern Republican Party its substance and Gingrich provided its style. (I imagine they’d both be honored by the distinctions.) When Trump dispatched his supporters to the Capitol on Jan. 6, telling them to “fight like hell,” urging them to preserve a country that was slipping away, calling them patriots who could take back an election stolen by the radical left, he was channeling both men. The big lie is part of their legacy, too.In his j’accuse-y yet semi-confessional “Why We Did It,” Miller, now a writer at large for the anti-Trump conservative forum The Bulwark, tries to grasp why his old colleagues followed Trump all the way to his rally at the Ellipse on Jan. 6. “I needed to figure out where our parting had started,” he writes. Miller grasps the futility of seeking a single origin story — “I’m sure a student of history might be able to trace it back to the Southern Strategy or Lee Atwater or, hell, maybe even Mark Hanna (give him a Google),” Miller writes — but he does hazard some explanations. He points to Republicans’ ability to compartmentalize concerns about Trump. Their unquenchable compulsion to be in the mix. Their self-serving belief that they could channel dark arts for noble purposes. Their desire to make money. (Miller acknowledges his own paid work helping the confirmation of Scott Pruitt as Trump’s Environmental Protection Agency administrator, a stint that makes Miller more of a Barely Trumper than a Never Trumper.) Most of all, his old colleagues succumbed to Trump because they believed they were playing “some big game devoid of real-world consequences.”Miller lingers on this game — the amoral world of tactics, messaging and opposition research, the realm of politics where facts matter less than cleverness and nothing matters more than results. He once thought of it as winning the race, being a killer, just a dishonest buck for a dishonest day’s work. “Practitioners of politics could easily dismiss moralistic or technical concerns just by throwing down their trump card: ‘It’s all part of the Game,’” Miller writes. He has a nickname for the comrades so immersed in the game that they are oblivious to its consequences: the LOL Nothing Matters Republicans. “The LOLNMRs had decided that if someone like Trump could win, then everything that everyone does in politics is meaningless.”The big lie thrives on LOL Nothing Matters.What Miller calls “the game” becomes “the joke” in Leibovich’s book, the depressing tale of the high-level supplicants who surrounded Trump during his presidency and continue to grovel in what they hope will be an interregnum. If the purely transactional nature of Washington power was the subject of Leibovich’s 2013 best seller, “This Town,” the mix of mendacity and subservience behind every transaction is the theme of his latest work. Reince Priebus, during his incarnation as Republican National Committee chairman before his six-month sojourn as Trump’s White House chief of staff, explained to Leibovich that of course, he got the joke. “This was his way of reassuring me that he understood what was really happening beyond his surface niceties about unity, tolerance, grace, or the idea that Trump could ever ‘pivot,’” Leibovich writes. In other words, don’t take his words seriously. “He got the joke and knew that I did, too.”The platonic ideal of the big joke was immortalized in The Washington Post the week after the 2020 election, uttered by an anonymous senior Republican official reflecting on Trump’s election claims. “What is the downside for humoring him for this little bit of time? No one seriously thinks the results will change. He went golfing this weekend. It’s not like he’s plotting how to prevent Joe Biden from taking power on Jan. 20.” It was wrong in so many ways — the downside would prove enormous, the believers would become legion, the plotting was underway.The big lie is that the election was stolen; the big joke is that you can prolong that lie without consequence. The former is a quest for undeserved power; the latter is an evasion of well-deserved responsibility.Other renditions of the big joke were more subtle. A few days after the election, a reporter asked Secretary of State Mike Pompeo if the State Department was preparing to work with the Biden team to facilitate a “smooth transition” of power. “There will be a smooth transition,” Pompeo responded, making the slightest of pauses before adding, “to a second Trump administration.” He then chuckled, a possible signal that he was aware of the truth, and that he “hoped that perhaps everyone understood his position,” Leibovich writes.Pompeo got the big joke about the big lie. Yet the man charged with representing American values to the world still felt he had to tell both.Representative Adam Kinzinger, one of 10 Republican House members to vote in favor of Trump’s second impeachment, says the joke is well understood among his party colleagues. “For all but a handful of members, if you put them on truth serum, they knew that the election was fully legitimate and that Donald Trump was a joke,” Kinzinger told Leibovich. “The vast majority of people get the joke. I think Kevin McCarthy gets the joke. Lindsey gets the joke. The problem is that the joke isn’t even funny anymore.” Humoring Trump has grown humorless.There was a time when even Trump grappled with the truth. Alyssa Farah Griffin, who served as communications director in the Trump White House, told PBS’s “Frontline” that the president admitted defeat in the days after the election was called for Biden. “There was one moment where in this period he was watching Joe Biden on TV and says, ‘Can you believe I lost to this (blank) guy?’”But what once may have sounded like a rhetorical lament — can you believe I lost? — now seems like a challenge to anyone questioning the big lie. Can you believe I lost? There is only one acceptable answer. In his rally last weekend in Youngstown, Ohio, Trump reiterated his commitment to the lie. “I ran twice. I won twice,” he declared. For a moment, when bragging about how many more votes he won in 2020 than in 2016, the veil almost fell. “We got 12 million more and we lost,” Trump said, before recovering. “We didn’t lose,” he continued. “We lost in their imagination.” It was a classic Trumpian projection: The lie is true and the truth is fake.The big lie appeared to crescendo on Jan. 6, 2021. The big joke, however, was retold during the early hours of Jan. 7, when the election results were certified, with 147 Republican lawmakers — more than half of the total — having voted to overturn them. As Milbank puts it, “once you’ve unhitched yourself from the truth wagon, there’s no limit to the places you can visit.” You can use exaggerated warnings of voter fraud to justify state-level initiatives tightening ballot access. (Lemire warns that the big lie has “metastasized” from a rallying cry into the “cold, methodical process of legislation.”) You can select election deniers to carry the party banner in midterm contests. And yes, you can visit the Capitol on the day the voters’ will is being affirmed, trash the place and tell yourself, as the Republican National Committee suggested, that you’re engaging in “legitimate political discourse.”The R.N.C.’s statement, part of a resolution censuring Kinzinger and Representative Liz Cheney for participating in the House’s Jan. 6 investigation, seemed to rebrand the assault as an exercise in civic virtue. The R.N.C. soon backtracked, professing that the resolution had not endorsed the violence at the Capitol.In a perverse sense, though, the R.N.C. was right. Not about the rioters, but about the discourse. Political debate has become so degraded that it includes every kind of offense, be it anonymous officials humoring the former president, QAnon conspiracists exalting him or frenzied die-hards perpetrating violence on his behalf. Together, the big joke and the big lie have turned the nation’s political life into a dark comedy, one staged for the benefit of aggrieved supporters who, imagining that the performance is real and acting on that belief, become its only punchline.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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    The Republic

    Listen and follow ‘The Run-Up’Apple Podcasts | Spotify | Stitcher | Amazon MusicIn kicking off the midterms, Joe Biden talked about American democracy as a shared value, enshrined in the country’s founding — a value that both Democrats and Republicans should join together in defending. But there is another possible view of this moment. One that is shared by two very different groups: the voters who propelled Biden to the presidency … and the conservative activists who are rejecting democracy altogether.Photo Illustration by The New York Times. Photo by Travis Dove for The New York TimesOn today’s episodeRepresentative James E. Clyburn of South CarolinaRobert Draper, a contributing writer for The New York Times Magazine. He is the author of several books, most recently “To Start a War: How the Bush Administration Took America Into Iraq.”About ‘The Run-Up’First launched in August 2016, three months before the election of Donald Trump, “The Run-Up” is back. The host, Astead Herndon, will grapple with the big ideas animating the 2022 midterm election cycle — and explore how we got to this fraught moment in American politics.Elections are about more than who wins and who loses. New episodes on Thursdays.Credits“The Run-Up” is hosted by More

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    Herschel Walker Says He’s ‘Not That Smart.’ I Believe Him.

    For months, Herschel Walker refused to agree to debate Senator Raphael Warnock in the Georgia Senate race. Walker had also not debated any of his Republican primary challengers. He was riding a Donald Trump endorsement and the widespread resentment aimed at Warnock. There was no need for debate.Also, based on his incoherent, often incomprehensible public statements, he was bound to be horrible at it.Now the two candidates have finally agreed to a debate — on Oct. 14, in Savannah — and Walker has already begun to do what Republicans unprepared for the roles they run for often do: lower expectations for himself and raise them for his opponent.Walker said last week about the debate:“I’m this country boy, you know. I’m not that smart. And he’s a preacher. He’s a smart man, wears these nice suits. So he is going to show up and embarrass me at the debate Oct. 14, and I’m just waiting to show up and I’m going to do my best.”Mr. Walker, I’m also a country boy. In fact, there were about 2,000 people in your hometown, Wrightsville, Ga., when you were born in 1962. My hometown, Gibsland, La., had about 1,400 people when I was born in 1970.What does this mean as it relates to wisdom and intellect? Absolutely nothing.Many American presidents were so-called country boys from small towns. Bill Clinton was from a small Arkansas town, Hope, which had a population of about 9,000 in 2020. Jimmy Carter’s hometown is Plains, Ga., with a 2020 population of about 760. And Ronald Reagan was born in Tampico, Ill., with a 2020 population of about 770.Mr. Walker, I believe you when you say that you’re not smart. But intelligence has nothing to do with the size of your hometown or the quality of your suit. You are the personification of a game being played by Georgia Republicans: a wager that any Black Republican — in your case, an empty intellectual vessel — can beat the Black Democrat, a man who is thoroughly qualified and utterly decent.Walker is Georgia Republicans’ attempt to undermine the image of Black competence, by making a mockery of Black people, by replacing a thinker with a toady.It seems clear to me that Walker will inflate or deflate his intellect to fit a function. The truth is irrelevant. This is at the heart of Trumpism.And this is all political strategy. Walker for years claimed to have graduated from the University of Georgia in the top 1 percent of his class, although he didn’t graduate from the school at all.But when he was there, The Times reported, he had “a B average in criminal justice.”Now he’s framing himself as not at all smart.It is all an attempt to lower the bar of the debate so low that anyone, even Walker, can clear it.This is the same approach that George W. Bush’s team used against Al Gore. As Karen Hughes, the Bush adviser overseeing his debate prep, told The New York Times in 2016: “Keeping quiet was a way to keep expectations low for Governor Bush. In debates, you run against expectations almost as much as you run against your opponent.”The debate was scored by many as a win by Bush, who came across as “relatable,” while the clearly more knowledgeable Gore was chastised for sighing during the debate and appearing exasperated with Bush, a dynamic that Politico magazine ranked as one of “the eight biggest unforced errors in debate history.”It is the same tactic Trump used against Hillary Clinton, clearly the most qualified of the two for the presidency. As The Atlantic wrote at the time:“Through a combination of months of campaigning, leaks about his debate prep, and aggressive working of the referees, Trump has set expectations so low that it’s hard to imagine how he finishes the debate without getting positive reviews from mainstream commentators.”And sure enough, that’s what happened. As a Times article put it the day after the debate:“By the standards Mr. Trump, his team and we in the news media seemed to have set for the Republican nominee, Mr. Trump cleared the bar. He stayed more or less in control, never directly insulted Mrs. Clinton and did not create new controversies over policy.”Now it’s time for Walker to take a swing, playing the same game, and the media is playing into it in predictable ways.As Georgia Public Broadcasting wrote last week: “Simply appearing on the debate stage is more than what many politics watchers expected of Walker, and even a tepid debate performance could assuage some fears about his campaign and could reiterate his message and celebrity status just two days before in-person early voting begins.”Enough of this foolishness. Enough giving the unqualified undue lenience. Enough of giving laurels for simply bare-minimum composure and demerits for knowledge and acumen.Whether Warnock embarrasses Walker or Walker embarrasses himself or there is no embarrassment to be had during the debate is not the point. The point is that Warnock is a serious, competent candidate, and Walker is clearly a tool of his party — a Black former athlete handpicked by Trump to take down a highly educated Black clergyman who was elected by a coalition led by an ascendant Black electorate in the state.No one on the night of debate — no matter how it unfolds, no matter how much the media sacrifices message to mannerism — can change these truths. When Herschel Walker tells you he’s not that smart, believe him.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 and Twitter (@NYTopinion), and Instagram. More

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    Elise Stefanik Says She’s Confident a Republican Wave Is Coming to the House

    Representative Elise Stefanik, the No. 3 House Republican, also spoke about her PAC’s success in backing female candidates, 23 of whom are running in the fall.Today’s newsletter is a guest dispatch from Annie Karni, a congressional correspondent in Washington.Representative Elise Stefanik of New York, the No. 3 House Republican, predicted on Wednesday that her party would pick up as many as three dozen House seats in November, despite signs that the red wave many predicted months ago might not form after all.And, brushing aside concerns from many Republicans that the Supreme Court’s decision to overturn Roe v. Wade has saddled them with an unpopular position that is energizing Democrats all over the country, Stefanik told reporters defiantly at a news conference that “we will have a pro-life Republican majority in the next Congress.”Stefanik, who was first elected in 2014 to her upstate New York seat as a relative moderate, became a star of the MAGA universe thanks to her role as President Donald J. Trump’s chief defender on the House Intelligence Committee during his first impeachment trial.She has translated her Trump-refracted fame into a fund-raising boon for female Republican candidates she is boosting in critical House races — a move that is also helping build a base in the G.O.P. House conference for a politician with big ambitions.“My own experience going through impeachment No. 1, where I played an outsized role on the House Intelligence Committee — we built up a national donor list,” Stefanik said Wednesday at a briefing at the Republican National Committee about the midterm elections. “We’ve been able to have that donor list support other women candidates across the country.”Stefanik, 38, founded her political action committee, Elevate PAC, or E-PAC, in 2018, when only 13 Republican women served in the House of Representatives. At the time, her goal was to elect more conservative women to Congress.In 2020, 11 of the 15 House seats that Republicans flipped were won by women that E-PAC had endorsed. Today, there are 34 Republican women in the House.During this campaign cycle, Stefanik’s organization has raised and donated more than $1 million directly to female Republican candidates, and 23 women endorsed by E-PAC are running in the general election. Since its creation, E-PAC has raised $4 million to date.Another part of Stefanik’s aim is to help with news coverage. “One thing that is very clear to me is Democrat women get outsized coverage in the media,” Stefanik said. “They get magazine covers.” Those she helps, she said, “deserve glossy magazines as well.”The outcome of those races will help determine Stefanik’s clout as a queenmaker in the current, Trump-controlled version of the Republican Party. Her activities are also a key part of the G.O.P.’s overall midterm strategy to expand beyond the core political base of right-wing and conservative voters with a more diverse slate.The push to elevate female candidates comes as the Republican Party struggles to overcome political gains Democrats have made on the issue of abortion since the overturning of Roe v. Wade.In an election year when political tensions are running high over gender and social issues, liberal groups are willing to give Stefanik only so much credit for helping to elect women.“There are challenges that all women face in running for office,” said Christina Reynolds, a spokeswoman for Emily’s List, a group that backs Democratic female candidates who support abortion rights. “I understand why there’s a need for this on both sides of the aisle.”But she added, “To support women’s rights, to support our freedoms, we think it’s critical that we elect Democratic, pro-choice women.”Stefanik shrugged off questions about how the issue of abortion will affect the midterms. Her party has struggled to unite behind a strategy on a fraught social issue that is reshaping campaigns across the country and, in some cases, forcing Republicans to backpedal on hard-line positions they took to win their primaries.“On the issue of abortion, Democrats are working overtime to force the American people to rethink what their top priorities are,” Stefanik said. “In every poll, inflation is the No. 1 issue. In my district, Second Amendment issues are second. Our candidates know how to communicate on this issue.”Stefanik also emphasized that many of the candidates she is backing are mothers. “I think that’s a very compelling message to voters,” she said, noting that one congressional candidate in Ohio, Madison Gesiotto Gilbert, gave birth just days ago.E-PAC’s slate of candidates includes seven who are Hispanic, four who are veterans and one who is Black. Stefanik said it was the most diverse group of candidates her PAC had supported to date.Stefanik said she had no ideological litmus test for candidates to gain her organization’s financial backing and endorsement.This cycle, she has backed candidates who falsely claim that Trump won the 2020 election, like Karoline Leavitt in New Hampshire’s First Congressional District and Yesli Vega in Virginia’s Seventh District.Vega has come under attack for questioning on tape whether a woman was less likely to become pregnant after a rape.Stefanik also supported Representative Mayra Flores, who won a special election in Texas’s 34th District after saying, falsely, that the Jan. 6 riot at the Capitol was stoked by members of Antifa and used a hashtag associated with the QAnon conspiracy theory in tweets that were later deleted.At the same time, Stefanik is backing Barbara Kirkmeyer, a state senator running in Colorado’s competitive Eighth District, who said President Biden legitimately won the 2020 election.Stefanik simply interviews candidates who are able to raise $250,000 in their first quarter, she said, and decides which of them have what it takes, based on her gut feeling and experience.“I interview and talk with everyone,” she said. “I put candidates through their paces. I ask how they would answer certain questions from the media.”After meeting hundreds of candidates across the country over the years, she said, “I’m able to tell pretty quickly, No. 1, if they have the fire in the belly, and also if they’re speaking from the heart on behalf of their district. I don’t do any ideological litmus test. These are all strong, conservative Republicans.”Karoline Leavitt with Senator Ted Cruz before her primary. “When you start your campaign as an outsider, you’re looking for that early support and help,” Leavitt said of Stefanik’s political action committee.Brian Snyder/ReutersIn some cases, Stefanik’s endorsements have put her at odds with leadership. She endorsed Leavitt, a 25-year-old hard-right Republican who served as an assistant in Trump’s White House press office before winning the G.O.P. nomination for a House seat in New Hampshire. Representative Kevin McCarthy, the House minority leader, was backing Leavitt’s rival, Matt Mowers, in the primary.“When you start your campaign as an outsider, you’re looking for that early support and help,” Leavitt said on Wednesday, joining Stefanik briefly as an example of an E-PAC success story. She said that Stefanik, whom she once worked for, was “someone that I leaned on, not only for financial support through E-PAC but also for advice and support.”Republicans are expected to win back control of the House next year, although in recent weeks, the political winds that once favored them have shifted toward Democrats.Still, for Democrats to retain a majority, they will have to hold virtually all their tossup districts in addition to flipping some tossup seats Republicans currently hold.Stefanik said she remains bullish about a red wave.“I remember on election night in 2020 when people said Nancy Pelosi would pick up 15 seats,” she said, referring to the House speaker. “Well, Republicans picked up 15 seats.”She added: “Eighty percent of their dollars are on defense. Do I think we have the opportunity to earn that historic majority of 35 seats? I do. I’ve always thought that this cycle.”What to readToday’s big story: Letitia James, the attorney general of New York, filed a lawsuit accusing the Trump Organization, former President Trump and three of his children of what she called “staggering fraud.” Jonah E. Bromwich, William K. Rashbaum and Ben Protess wrote the main article examining the 220-page claim, and I have a short piece on the politics at play.The House voted mostly along party lines to overhaul the 135-year-old Electoral Count Act, the law that Trump tried to exploit to overturn his defeat, Carl Hulse reports.At the United Nations, President Biden called on countries to unify in the face of Russian aggression in Ukraine. Moscow’s goal, he said, is “extinguishing Ukraine’s right to exist as a state.” Follow our live coverage of the U.N. General Assembly here.The Federal Reserve tightened interest rates by a further three-quarters of a percentage point fewer than seven weeks before the November elections, an effort to stem inflation that remains stubbornly high. Chairman Jerome Powell said the U.S. economy was fundamentally healthy, however. The Times’s economic team covered all the angles here.Thank you for reading On Politics, and for being a subscriber to The New York Times. — BlakeRead past editions of the newsletter here.If you’re enjoying what you’re reading, please consider recommending it to others. They can sign up here. Browse all of our subscriber-only newsletters here.Have feedback? Ideas for coverage? We’d love to hear from you. Email us at onpolitics@nytimes.com. More

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    How Republicans Could Win Control of the House

    The political winds that once favored Republicans in the coming midterm elections appear to have shifted in the Democrats’ favor, but in the quest for the House, geography may be destiny. Many congressional district lines were redrawn this year to favor one party or the other so much that even a hurricane-force gale cannot overcome […] More

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    Glenn Youngkin Is Playing a Dangerous Game

    It’s obvious. Glenn Youngkin, the Republican governor of Virginia, wants to be president.Within months of taking office, Youngkin had already established two political organizations, Spirit of Virginia and America’s Spirit, meant to raise his profile in national Republican politics with donations and assistance to candidates both in his home state and across the country. In July, he met privately with major conservative donors in New York City, underlining the sense that his ambitions run larger than his term in Richmond.Youngkin, a former private equity executive, is on a tour of the country, speaking and raising money for Republican candidates in key presidential swing states. And as he crisscrosses the United States in support of the Republican Party, Youngkin is neither avoiding Donald Trump nor scorning his acolytes; he’s embracing them.In Nevada last week, Youngkin stumped for Joe Lombardo, the Trump-backed Republican nominee for governor who acknowledges that President Biden won the election but says he is worried about the “sanctity of the voting system.” In Michigan, Youngkin stumped for Tudor Dixon, the Trump-backed Republican nominee for governor who has repeatedly challenged the integrity of the 2020 presidential election. And later this month, in Arizona, Youngkin will stump for Kari Lake, the Trump-backed Republican nominee for governor who accused Democrats of fraud in the state and says that unlike Gov. Doug Ducey, she “would not have certified” the 2020 election results.Whether Youngkin agrees with any of this himself is an open question. In the 2021 Virginia Republican primary, he flirted with election denialism but never fully committed. What matters, for our purposes, is that Youngkin believes he needs to cater to and actually support election questioners and deniers to have a shot at leading the Republican Party.You can sense, in conversations about the present and future of the Republican Party, a hope that there is some way to force the party off its current, anti-democratic path. You could see it in the outrage over Democratic Party “meddling” in Republican primaries. As the conservative columnist Henry Olsen wrote for The Washington Post in July, “True friends of democracy would seek to build new alliances that cross old partisan boundaries.”What Youngkin — a more polished and ostensibly moderate Republican politician — aptly demonstrates is that this is false. The issue is that Republican voters want MAGA candidates, and ambitious Republicans see no path to power that doesn’t treat election deniers and their supporters as partners in arms.There is an analogy to make here to the midcentury Democratic Party, which was torn between a liberal, Northern, pro-civil rights faction and a reactionary, Southern, segregationist faction. The analogy is useful, not because the outcome of the struggle is instructive in this case, but because the reason the liberal faction prevailed helps illustrate why anti-MAGA Republicans are fighting a losing battle.In 1948, the mayor of Minneapolis — 37-year-old Hubert Humphrey — called on the hundreds of delegates to the Democratic National Convention in Philadelphia to add a strong civil rights plank to the party’s national platform. “To those who say we are rushing this issue of civil rights,” Humphrey said, “I say to them we are 172 years late.”“The time has arrived for the Democratic Party to get out of the shadow of states’ rights and walk forthrightly into the bright sunshine of human rights,” Humphrey added.As the historian Michael Kazin notes in “What It Took to Win: A History of the Democratic Party,” both “the speech and the ebullient, and quite spontaneous, floor demonstration that followed helped convince a majority of delegates — and President Truman, reluctantly — to include the civil rights pledge in the platform.”But there were dissenters. A small number of Southern delegates left the convention in protest. Calling themselves the States’ Rights Democratic Party, they organized a challenge to Truman with Gov. Strom Thurmond of South Carolina at the top of their ticket.These “Dixiecrats” were anti-civil rights and, for good measure, anti-labor. “We stand for the segregation of the races and the racial integrity of each race, the constitutional right to choose one’s associates; to accept private employment without governmental interference, and to earn one’s living in any lawful way,” reads the States’ Rights Democratic platform, unanimously adopted at their convention in Oklahoma City the next month. We favor, they continued, “home-rule, local self-government and a minimum of interference with individual rights.”Of course, this meant the maintenance of Jim Crow, the subversion of the constitutional guarantees embedded in the 14th and 15th Amendments, and the continued domination of Black Americans by a tyrannical planter-industrial elite.From its inception in the late 1820s as the movement to elect Andrew Jackson president, the Democratic Party relied on the Solid South to win national elections. Now it had a choice. Democrats could reject their new civil rights plank, accommodate the Dixiecrats and fight with a unified front against a hungry and energetic Republican Party, shut out of power since Herbert Hoover’s defeat in 1932. Or they could scorn the so-called States’ Rights Democrats and run as a liberal party committed to equal rights and opportunity for all Americans.They chose the latter and changed American politics forever. And while much of this choice was born of sincere belief, we also should not ignore the powerful force of demographic change.From 1915 to 1965, more than six million Black Americans left their homes in the agrarian South to settle in the cities of the industrial North, from New York and Chicago to Philadelphia and Detroit and beyond.Their arrival marked the beginning of a tectonic shift in American political life. “The difference in laws between the North and the South created a political coming-of-age for Black migrants,” the political scientist Keneshia N. Grant writes in “The Great Migration and the Democratic Party: Black Voters and the Realignment of American Politics in the 20th Century.” “Seeing political participation as a badge of honor and hallmark of success in northern life, migrants registered to vote in large numbers. Northern parties and candidates worked to gain Black support through their election campaigns, and the parties expected Black voters to turn out to vote for their nominees on Election Day.”For a Democratic Party whose national fortunes rested on control of urban machines, Black voters could mean the difference between four years in power and four years in the wilderness. With the rise of Franklin Roosevelt, who won an appreciable share of the Black vote in the 1932 presidential election, Northern Democratic politicians began to pay real attention to the interests of Black Americans in cities across the region.By 1948, most Black Americans who could vote were reliable partners in the New Deal coalition, which gave liberals in the Democratic Party some of the political space they needed to buck Jim Crow. Yes, the Dixiecrats would withdraw their support. But for every white vote Harry Truman might lose in Alabama and Mississippi, there was a Black vote he might gain in Ohio and California, the two states that ultimately gave him his victory over the fearsome former prosecutor (and New York governor) Thomas Dewey.Not only did the Dixiecrat rebellion fail; it also demonstrated without a shadow of a doubt that Democrats could win national elections without the Solid South. The segregationists were weaker than they looked, and over the next 20 years the Democratic Party would cast them aside. (And even then, with the Dixiecrat exodus, Truman still won most of the states of the former Confederacy.)There is no equivalent to northern Black voters in the Trumpified Republican Party. Put differently, there is no large and pivotal group of Republicans who can exert cross-pressure on MAGA voters. Instead, the further the Republican Party goes down the rabbit hole of “stop the steal” and other conspiracy theories, the more it loses voters who could serve to apply that pressure.In a normal, more majoritarian political system, this dynamic would eventually fix the issue of the MAGA Republican Party. Parties want to win, and they will almost always shift gears when it’s clear they can’t with their existing platform, positions and leadership.The problem is that the American political system, in its current configuration, gives much of its power to the party with the most supporters in all the right places. Republicans may have lost the popular vote in seven of the last eight presidential elections, but key features in the system — equal state representation in the Senate, malapportionment in the House of Representatives and winner-take-all distribution of votes in the Electoral College (Nebraska and Maine notwithstanding) — gives them a powerful advantage on the playing field of national politics.To put it in simple terms, Joe Biden won the national popular vote by seven million ballots in the 2020 presidential election, but if not for roughly 120,000 votes across four states — Arizona, Georgia, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin — Donald Trump would still be president.Which is all to say that someone like Glenn Youngkin is only doing what makes sense. To make MAGA politics weak among Republican politicians, you have to make MAGA voters irrelevant in national elections. But that will take a different political system — or a vastly different political landscape — than the one we have now.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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    Los votantes latinos y el Partido Republicano frente a las elecciones

    Una encuesta de The New York Times/Siena College revela que los demócratas están mucho peor que en el pasado con los votantes hispanos. Pero, en general, el partido ha mantenido el control sobre el electorado latino.Han pasado casi dos años desde que Donald Trump logró algunos avances sorpresivos con los electores latinos. Pero según un nuevo sondeo de The New York Times y Siena College, no se han logrado materializar los sueños de los republicanos sobre una importante reorientación de los votantes latinos hacia las posturas de su partido sobre los problemas sociales y la delincuencia.Este sondeo —una de las encuestas no partidistas más grandes relacionadas con los electores latinos desde las elecciones de 2020— reveló que los demócratas habían mantenido un control sobre la mayoría de los electores latinos, motivados en parte por mujeres y por la creencia de que los demócratas seguían siendo el partido de la clase trabajadora. En general, es más probable que los votantes latinos estén de acuerdo con los demócratas en muchos temas: inmigración, política sobre el control de armas, cambio climático. También es más probable que vean a los republicanos como el partido de la élite y como el movimiento que tiene posturas extremas. Además, una mayoría de los electores latinos, el 56 por ciento, piensa votar por los demócratas este otoño, en comparación con el 32 por ciento que pretende votar por los republicanos.Pero en la consulta también se ven señales preocupantes para el futuro del mensaje de los demócratas. Pese a esa cómoda ventaja, el sondeo revela que los demócratas están mucho peor que en los años anteriores a las elecciones de 2020. Parece que los electores latinos más jóvenes, sobre todo los del sur, se están alejando del partido, un cambio que es impulsado por las enormes inquietudes en materia económica. En las elecciones intermedias de este año, deficiencias en el sur y entre los electores de las zonas rurales se podrían interponer en los triunfos importantísimos de Texas y Florida.Anthony Saiz, de 24 años, quien reseña el contenido de una plataforma de redes sociales en Tucson, Arizona, comentó que, para salir adelante, tuvo que aceptar un segundo empleo como pizzero en una cervecería. Saiz votó por Joe Biden en 2020 y se considera demócrata porque creció dentro de una familia demócrata. Pero cree que durante el mandato de Biden el costo de la vida se duplicó, pese a que se mudó a un apartamento más pequeño.“Las decisiones que ha tomado para el país me han puesto en una situación muy difícil”, comentó acerca del presidente.La manera en que voten los latinos será un asunto fundamental en las elecciones de noviembre y para el futuro de la política estadounidense. La participación de los electores latinos es decisiva en la lucha por el control del Congreso y conforman una parte considerable de los votantes —hasta el 20 por ciento— en dos de los estados que más probabilidades tienen de decidir el control del Senado: Arizona y Nevada. Los latinos también representan más del 20 por ciento de los electores registrados en más de una decena de contiendas muy competitivas para la Cámara de Representantes en California, Colorado, Florida y Texas, entre otros estados.Desde hace mucho tiempo, los demócratas han pensado que el creciente electorado latino condenaría a los republicanos, y las posibilidades de que haya un electorado cada vez más diverso han avivado las preocupaciones de los conservadores. Los resultados de las elecciones de 2020 —en las cuales, en comparación con 2016, Trump ganó más o menos unos ocho puntos porcentuales entre los votantes latinos— comenzaron a cambiar el panorama de ambos partidos. La encuesta del Times/Siena revela que siguen arraigadas las creencias y las lealtades históricas con respecto a los temas centrales, aunque hay algunos cambios que llaman mucho la atención.Aunque las mayorías de los votantes hispanos apoyan a los demócratas en temas sociales y culturales, una parte muy considerable sigue teniendo creencias que se alinean con los republicanos: más de una tercera parte de los electores hispanos afirman que están más de acuerdo con el Partido Republicano en los temas relacionados con la delincuencia y la vigilancia policial, y a cuatro de cada diez votantes hispanos les preocupa que el Partido Demócrata haya ido demasiado lejos en materia de raza y género. Los votantes latinos consideran que los problemas económicos son el factor más importante que determinará su voto este año y están divididos de manera uniforme acerca de con qué partido están más de acuerdo en lo que se refiere a la economía.Los electores latinos en Estados Unidos nunca han sido un bloque de votación monolítico y con frecuencia desconciertan a los estrategas políticos que tratan de entender su comportamiento. Los 32 millones de latinos que pueden votar son inmigrantes recientes y ciudadanos de cuarta generación, habitantes de las ciudades y de las zonas rurales, católicos y ateos.Ambos partidos se han llenado de fanfarronerías y han disparado sus expectativas respecto a los votantes latinos, recaudando y gastando millones de dólares para atraer su apoyo, pero hay pocos datos concretos no partidistas que respalden sus especulaciones. La encuesta ofrece una visión de una parte del electorado que muchos estrategas han denominado como el nuevo voto indeciso y cuyas opiniones suelen ser complicadas por las contradicciones entre subgrupos.Para Dani Bernal, una empresaria de Los Ángeles, los temas económicos ocupan un lugar destacado en sus decisiones.Jenna Schoenefeld para The New York TimesDani Bernal, de 35 años, que se dedica al mercadeo digital y es empresaria en Los Ángeles, dijo que alterna entre los candidatos de ambos partidos, en gran parte basándose en sus políticas económicas. Dijo que su madre llegó a Florida desde Bolivia con solo una bolsa de ropa y 500 dólares, y pudo prosperar porque los impuestos eran bajos y el costo de la vida era asequible. Bernal dijo que los temas económicos tienen una gran importancia en sus decisiones.“Estoy registrada como republicana, pero soy exactamente igual que Florida: voy de un lado a otro”, dijo.Los republicanos están teniendo un mejor desempeño con los votantes latinos que viven en el sur, una zona que incluye estados como Florida y Texas, donde los republicanos han logrado victorias importantes en las elecciones recientes con los votantes latinos. En el sur, 46 por ciento de los electores latinos dicen que piensan votar por los demócratas, mientras que el 45 por ciento afirman que planean votar por los republicanos. Por el contrario, en otras zonas del país, los demócratas tienen del 62 al 24 por ciento entre los electores latinos.Es posible que una brecha generacional también lleve a los republicanos a obtener más triunfos. La encuesta reveló que los demócratas gozaban de un gran respaldo sobre todo entre los electores latinos de mayor edad, pero el 46 por ciento de los votantes menores de 30 años apoyan el manejo de la economía por parte de los republicanos, en comparación con el 43 por ciento que están a favor de los demócratas.Los republicanos también tienen fuerza entre los varones latinos, quienes apoyan más a los demócratas en las elecciones intermedias, pero, por un margen de cinco puntos, dicen que votarían por Trump si volviera a contender en 2024. Parece que los varones jóvenes, sobre todo, están dando un giro hacia los republicanos. Son un importante punto débil para los demócratas quienes, con los varones menores de 45 años, mantienen una ventaja de solo cuatro puntos en las elecciones intermedias.La encuesta del Times/Siena ofrece una visión de los votantes latinos que tradicionalmente han apoyado a los demócratas en el pasado pero que planean votar a los republicanos este otoño: son desproporcionadamente votantes sin título universitario que se centran en la economía, y es más probable que sean jóvenes, hombres y nacidos en Estados Unidos, pero que viven en zonas con gran presencia de hispanos.La inmigración sigue siendo un tema primordial para los electores latinos, y ambos partidos tienen un atractivo particular. Mientras que los demócratas han presionado para reformar el sistema de inmigración legal y ofrecen una vía para que muchos inmigrantes que viven de manera ilegal en el país obtengan la ciudadanía, los republicanos se han enfocado en tomar medidas enérgicas contra la inmigración ilegal y en usar la política fronteriza para impulsar sus bases.Los demócratas conservan una gran ventaja en el tema de la inmigración legal y el 55 por ciento de los electores latinos afirman estar de acuerdo con este partido, en comparación con el 29 por ciento que dicen estar de acuerdo con los republicanos. Pero el Partido Republicano ha avanzado cuando ha acentuado la retórica y la política antiinmigración: 37 por ciento de los electores latinos apoyan las posturas de los republicanos con respecto a la inmigración ilegal. Y aproximadamente una tercera parte de estos respalda la construcción de un muro en la frontera entre México y Estados Unidos.Amelia Alonso Tarancón, de 69 años, quien emigró de Cuba hace 14 años y ahora vive en las afueras de Fort Lauderdale, Florida, quiere que el Congreso le proporcione estatus legal a los trabajadores que viven en el país de manera ilegal y que han estado ahí durante décadas. Pero concuerda con los republicanos en sus posturas radicales contra la inmigración ilegal. Esta idea la motivó a votar por Trump, pese a que es una demócrata registrada.Amelia Alonso Tarancón, que vive cerca de Fort Lauderdale, Florida, no se considera demócrata ni republicana.Saul Martinez para The New York Times“Sé que este país es un país de inmigrantes, pero deben migrar de forma legal”, dijo. Pero Alonso Tarancón dijo que ya no apoyaba al expresidente después de que se negó a entregar la presidencia, impulsó el ataque al Capitolio de Estados Unidos y “se llevó todos esos documentos” a Mar-a-Lago.“No me considero ni demócrata ni republicana, ahora mismo estoy en espera hasta las próximas elecciones”, dijo.En su esfuerzo por atraer nuevos votantes, los republicanos han criticado con frecuencia a los demócratas por ser demasiado “concienciados” o woke. Esa acusación resuena entre muchos votantes hispanos porque el 40 por ciento dice que el partido ha ido demasiado lejos al impulsar una ideología “concienciada” en materia de raza y género. Pero hay una clara división: el 37 por ciento opina lo contrario y dice que el partido no ha ido lo suficientemente lejos. Y casi uno de cada cinco votantes hispanos encuestados dijo que no sabía si los demócratas eran demasiado woke, un término que no se puede traducir fácilmente al español.En lo que se refiere a muchos temas sociales y culturales, los electores latinos siguen estando alineados con el Partido Republicano.La mayoría, un 58 por ciento, tiene una buena opinión del movimiento “Las vidas negras importan”, mientras que el 45 por ciento también apoyan el movimiento “Las vidas azules importan”, el cual defiende al personal de la policía. Una mayoría cree que el aborto debe ser legal en casi todos los casos; incluso entre los latinos republicanos, cuatro de cada diez personas rechazan la decisión de la Corte Suprema de anular la sentencia del caso Roe contra Wade. El apoyo a “Las vidas negras importan” y al derecho al aborto es impulsado principalmente por los jóvenes. Al preguntarles con quién están más de acuerdo en el caso de la política sobre el control de armas, el 49 por ciento dijo que con los demócratas, mientras que el 34 por ciento afirmó que con los republicanos.En repetidas ocasiones, los republicanos que intentan ganarse a los electores latinos han descrito a los demócratas como elitistas y alejados de la realidad, pero la encuesta indica que esta estrategia está teniendo un éxito limitado.Casi seis de cada 10 votantes latinos siguen viendo al Partido Demócrata como el partido de la clase trabajadora. Aunque los republicanos blancos se consideran de modo uniforme como el partido de la clase trabajadora, incluso algunos republicanos latinos creen que esa es una característica de los demócratas. Además, en la encuesta no se obtuvieron pruebas de que los republicanos estuvieran teniendo un mejor desempeño entre la población latina sin estudios universitarios ni entre los latinos de las zonas rurales, dos grupos demográficos fundamentales a los que han querido acercarse. Uno de cada cuatro votantes latinos de las zonas rurales sigue sin decidir por quién votar en noviembre.Los demócratas han sido criticados con contundencia por su aceptación del término Latinx, que tiene el propósito de ser más inclusivo que las palabras “latino” y “latina”, las cuales marcan el género. Encuestas anteriores han revelado que solo una pequeña minoría de votantes latinos prefieren ese término. Pero la encuesta indicaba que Latinx no es, en absoluto, el tema más polarizador; solo el 18 por ciento señaló que ese término le parecía ofensivo.La encuesta del Times/Siena, realizada a 1399 votantes registrados en todo el país, incluida una sobremuestra de 522 votantes hispanos, se llevó a cabo por teléfono con operadores en directo del 6 al 14 de septiembre de 2022. El margen de error de muestreo es de más o menos 3,6 puntos porcentuales para la muestra completa y de 5,9 puntos porcentuales entre los votantes hispanos. Las tabulaciones cruzadas y la metodología están disponibles para todos los votantes registrados y para los votantes hispanos.Nate Cohn More