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      When Will We Know Election Results?

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      Expect it to be a late night in Virginia. And possibly a long week.In 2020, President Biden won the state by 10 percentage points, and the race wasn’t called until well after midnight. No one expects the margin of victory for either Terry McAuliffe, the Democratic candidate, or Glenn Youngkin, the Republican candidate, to reach double digits, meaning a large percentage of the vote total will likely need to be counted before it is clear who won.If the margin is fewer than 10,000 votes, Virginians may have to wait a few days. The state requires that all mail ballots postmarked by Election Day be counted if they are received by the following Friday at noon. In 2020, the count included 10,901 ballots that fell in that post-Election Day window.And as voters navigate the relatively new early voting process, both campaigns expect an uptick in provisional ballots, which also can take days to be counted.The state has made some improvements since the 2020 election.Counties are now required to prepare their early absentee ballots for processing, meaning the ballots can be opened, checked for eligibility and scanned up to a week before Election Day. That is likely to help alleviate the type of bottlenecks in tabulating absentee votes that delayed the 2020 vote count.So while it may take time for results to be counted, Virginia is not expected to repeat what happened in Pennsylvania in 2020, when election officials were restricted by law from getting a head start on processing early votes, leading to a delay in counting.New YorkIn New York City, voters will likely not have to wait long at all. Eric Adams, the Democratic candidate, is the overwhelming favorite in the race to succeed Mayor Bill de Blasio, and the election is expected to be called early in the night.But for City Council seats and other closer races, the results could take some time. The New York City Board of Elections has not had a recent history of timely results or orderly counting. It took weeks for the agency to release certified election results in nearly all the races after the primary in June.New JerseyNew Jersey expanded early voting this year and can expect an election night as swift as the one in New York. Gov. Philip D. Murphy, a Democrat, has been maintaining a double-digit lead in his re-election bid for most of the year. Though that lead has waned slightly, there has not been any major swings to indicate a shift in support.The state has also seen steady early voting, with nearly 500,000 people voting by mail as of Thursday. All those votes can be prepared and ready for tabulation on Election Day.AtlantaIn Atlanta, the race to replace Mayor Keisha Lance Bottoms — who decided not to seek re-election — is almost certainly headed to a runoff election. It may take late into the night to learn which candidates make it to the runoff.BostonThe race that will give Boston its first female mayor appears headed to an early night. Michelle Wu has maintained a large lead over her opponent, Annissa Essaibi George, with recent polling from Suffolk University showing Ms. Wu with a 32-point advantage. More

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      The Places in New York City Where Republicans Still Stand a Chance

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      In some New York City Council races, supporting former President Donald Trump is seen as a positive by voters.For most Democratic candidates running in New York City, criticizing former President Donald J. Trump hardly requires making a studied campaign strategy decision — it’s already a given.But in one of the few competitive races in New York City this year, the Democratic candidate for City Council will not even say how he voted for president, insisting that at the local level, voters in his Brooklyn district still care more about municipal matters. That candidate, Steven Saperstein, is running in one of the few Trump-friendly districts in the city, and as he campaigned down a breezy stretch of boardwalk in Brighton Beach last Sunday, not far from the Trump Village housing complex where he grew up, he couldn’t seem to escape partisan politics.“I’m Republican,” one woman declared.“One hundred and twenty percent,” another proclaimed, before allowing that she would consider Mr. Saperstein anyway.“They’re trying to make it about the presidential election,” Mr. Saperstein said of his Republican opponent, Inna Vernikov, for whom Donald Trump Jr. has recorded a robocall. “People in this district understand and they know that national elections are one thing, but on the local level you have to vote for the person.”Steven Saperstein insists that voters in his district are more concerned about local matters than last year’s presidential election.Nate Palmer for The New York TimesIndeed, for years, New York City voters who favored Republicans for president often still elected Democrats in local races. But in the final days of the fall campaign, Republicans are working to change that in the 48th Council District of Brooklyn, which is home to many Orthodox Jews and Russian and Ukrainian immigrants.If they succeed, that victory will offer one more example of just how polarized, and nationalized, even ultra-local American politics has become.That seat is one of a smattering of City Council districts where there is evidence of Republican life in an otherwise overwhelmingly Democratic city — and it is not the only one attracting attention from major national figures. Senator Chuck Schumer of New York, the Senate majority leader, was slated to campaign on Sunday for a fellow Democrat, Felicia Singh, who is seeking to flip the last Republican-held Council seat in Queens (though the event was pulled following a security threat, Ms. Singh’s campaign manager said).The Republican candidates in New York’s competitive races differ from one another in tone, experience and the local issues that reflect their distinctive districts. But all of those contests, party officials and strategists say, are shaped by the continued salience of public safety in the minds of voters, discussion of education matters like the gifted and talented program that Mayor Bill de Blasio wants to phase out, and intense feelings over vaccine mandates. Some Republicans even argue that the challenging national environment that Democrats appear to be facing may be evident in a handful of city races, too.“This has a lot of likenesses to 2009, when Obama came in on hope and change and then fell flat,” said Nick Langworthy, the chairman of the New York Republican State Committee. “In 2009 we had great gains at the local level, and then had a cataclysm in 2010. Are we facing that, or is there going to be flatness all the way around?”Whatever the turnout, Republicans are virtually certain to be shut out of citywide offices. Indeed, by nearly every metric, the Republican Party has been decimated in the nation’s largest city. They are vastly outnumbered in voter registration and have struggled to field credible candidates for major offices. At the City Council level, Republican hopes boil down to a matter of margins.The most optimistic Republican assessment, barring extraordinary developments, is that they could increase their presence to five from three on the 51-seat City Council, as they did in 2009. But even that would require a surprise outcome in a sleeper race — and it is possible they retain only one seat (setting aside the candidates who are running on multiple party lines).Officials on both sides of the aisle believe a more realistic target for the Republicans is three or four seats, a number that could still affect the brewing City Council speaker’s race and may indicate pockets of discontent with the direction of the city.The most high-profile of those contests is the last Republican-held seat in Queens.Ms. Singh, a teacher who is endorsed by the left-wing Working Families Party, is running against Joann Ariola, the chairwoman of the Queens Republican Party. The race has stirred considerable interest from the left and the right and attracted spending from outside groups.Democrats argue that Ms. Singh’s focus on education, the environment and resources for often-underserved communities best reflects working-class and immigrant families like her own who have changed the makeup of the district.Felicia Singh, center, who is running for City Council, canvasing in her hometown of Ozone Park, Queens.Jackie Molloy for The New York TimesMs. Singh has called Ms. Ariola a Trump Republican and noted her past ties to a district leader who was charged with participating in the Jan. 6 attack on the United States Capitol. Ms. Ariola has said she condemns the insurrection and that no one “should be guilty by association.”Ms. Ariola is pressing a message of strong support for the police, protecting and improving the gifted and talented program, and emphasizing quality-of-life issues.She is casting Ms. Singh as too radical for a district that has been dotted in parts with Blue Lives Matter signage, and she has noted that some of the area’s moderate Democratic officials have stayed on the sidelines — which will surely be a source of tension among Democrats if Ms. Singh loses narrowly.“The strategy has to be to pull out every single Democrat, knowing there are some Democrats that will shift the other way as well, but I think she’s still in a good position,” said Donovan Richards, the Queens borough president and a Democrat.The other race widely seen as competitive is for a seat currently held by the Republican minority leader, Steven Matteo, on Staten Island.David Carr, Mr. Matteo’s chief of staff, is the Republican nominee; Sal F. Albanese, once a Brooklyn city councilman who has run unsuccessfully for mayor several times, is the Democratic nominee; George Wonica, a real estate agent, is running on the Conservative Party line.Unlike in Queens, where there is a clear ideological contrast, the candidates on Staten Island largely agree on several issues roiling New York, including city vaccine mandates, which they oppose. They have also competed vigorously over who is the true law-and-order candidate.Beyond those clearly competitive races, a number of Democrats are running aggressive campaigns even in presumably safe seats. Councilman Justin Brannan of Brooklyn, a candidate for City Council speaker who won his Bay Ridge-area district narrowly in 2017, has maintained an intense pace. Just this weekend he campaigned with Eric Adams, the Democratic nominee for mayor; Letitia James, the state attorney general, who is now running for governor; and Mr. Schumer.“Low-turnout elections are always where surprises happen, and we’ve had a bunch of those in the past few years,” said Kevin Elkins, the political director for the New York City District Council of Carpenters, which is largely supporting Democratic candidates, as well as Ms. Ariola. “Most of the elected officials and candidates who have run before have no interest in being next on that list.”A few districts away from Mr. Brannan’s, Ms. Vernikov was in a heavily Orthodox Jewish part of Midwood recently, meeting with volunteers.Inna Vernikov, a Republican, said voters were more receptive to her when she told them her party affiliation. Nate Palmer for The New York TimesShe has been a registered Democrat and a Republican, and the better-funded Mr. Saperstein has previously run for office as a Republican, further scrambling the political dynamics of the race.But in an interview, Ms. Vernikov said she sometimes found voters to be more receptive when she mentioned her current party affiliation.“When you tell people you’re a Republican in this district, it just changes the tone,” especially with the many voters in the district who fled the former Soviet Union, she said. “They see the Democratic Party moving this country in a very bad direction.”Back in Brighton Beach, Mr. Saperstein wanted to talk about parks, the relationships he has with the Police Department, and cleaning up the boardwalk.That last point was a compelling one for Lidiya Skverchak, a 64-year-old Trump voter. She was slated to receive her next dose of the Moderna vaccine on Election Day and was uncertain whether she would vote, she said. But if she does vote, she will still vote “Democrat, of course Democrat,” in the city elections. Asked about her biggest issue in the race, she, like Mr. Saperstein, kept her focus local.“For this area, there should be more trees,” she said. More

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      Curtis Sliwa Has New York’s Attention Again. Was That Always the Point?

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      When New Yorkers feared their subway and streets amid a crime wave in the late 1970s, Curtis Sliwa donned a red beret and seized the moment, pioneering a movement of citizen patrols — the Guardian Angels — that made him famous. He was 24.If ever he risked fading from public view in the years after, Mr. Sliwa found increasingly outlandish ways to hold onto the spotlight: faking his own kidnapping, wearing a red wig on television to impersonate a New York City Council speaker, even getting arrested while waving court papers at Mayor Bill de Blasio outside Gracie Mansion.Not surprisingly, perhaps, some people questioned whether it was just another publicity stunt when Mr. Sliwa, who registered as a Republican last year, announced that he was running in the party’s primary for mayor. Yet he won, riding his decades-old name recognition and casting his time patrolling the streets and his leadership of the Guardian Angels as his main qualifications for becoming mayor.With Election Day approaching on Tuesday, he is trying to ride that celebrity again in his campaign against a heavily favored Democrat, Eric Adams.“I’ve been shot, stabbed, beaten in the streets of New York City, locked up 76 times,” he said at a recent campaign stop. “I’ve been David versus Goliath from Day 1 in my entire life.”But an examination of Mr. Sliwa’s career reflects a record far messier and more complicated than the comic-book hero image he has worked to foster. Interviews with more than 40 current and former members of his group, critics and other associates portray a charismatic figure whose frequently clownish acts belie a sharp intellect and keen media savvy. They also reveal a string of missteps in his public and private lives that have harmed his credibility, and a comfort with physical aggression, machismo and racist and sexist rhetoric that has made even some who are close to him uneasy.What a Sliwa mayoralty would look like is anyone’s guess — an unpredictability he shares with his opponent, Mr. Adams. Would he dress up in costumes for news conferences? Tackle a purse snatcher on the street?His campaign platform calls for hiring thousands of police officers, placing homeless people in psychiatric beds at hospitals, expanding the gifted program in the city’s schools, overhauling the property tax system and eliminating the killing of animals at shelters. He has said less about creating jobs or reviving New York’s flagging economy, closing the city’s gaping budget shortfall or addressing the inequalities that the pandemic laid bare.Mr. Sliwa confronting his Democratic opponent, Eric Adams, at the second mayoral debate.Pool photo by Eduardo MunozBut for a Republican, the underpinnings of any policy decisions would spring from an unusual place. Mr. Sliwa said he grew up reading Saul Alinsky’s “Rules for Radicals,” an influential blueprint for liberal activism. And although he has named Rudolph W. Giuliani as the ideal New York mayor, he said in an interview that he identifies most closely with Huey P. Long of Louisiana, the Depression-era Democratic governor and senator known for his progressive politics, and for allegations of corruption and demagogy. Mr. Sliwa said he appreciated Long’s populism but added: “He was also a real scoundrel, you know, and pretty crooked.”After winning the primary, Mr. Sliwa brought the full force of his publicity-seeking skills to bear in the general election campaign. He showed up at a New Jersey apartment building to suggest that Mr. Adams, the Brooklyn borough president, lived there and not in New York. He also carried a milk carton bearing his opponent’s picture on to the B train in Brooklyn, asking passengers, “Have you seen this man?”Although he struggled at times to break through in the media, Mr. Sliwa made a splash at the final debate, seeming to put Mr. Adams on the defensive by accusing him of being too willing to meet with gang leaders in the past. (Mr. Adams said he had met with them to encourage them to leave gangs.)In the campaign’s final days, Mr. Sliwa has continued to court controversy, becoming a cheerleader for city workers who are resisting Mr. de Blasio’s vaccine mandate and appearing at protests.Few who have followed Mr. Sliwa’s career are surprised. “For the most part, the person you see in public making bad rhymes before the camera is now the actual person,” said Ronald Kuby, a lawyer who once co-hosted a radio show with Mr. Sliwa as his liberal foil and is now a pointed critic. “It’s just one long, desperate and reasonably entertaining cry for attention.”Making headlinesMr. Sliwa, left, with a group of Guardian Angels in 1984.Joe McNally/Getty ImagesMr. Sliwa, 67, loves to tell stories. He has not always been a reliable narrator.He can hold forth on the history of Brooklyn political bosses in one breath and in the next recount a showdown with an Oregon religious sect. He will describe the used car commercial he shot with the Times Square performer known as the Naked Cowboy. He can demonstrate a wrestling move called the Sicilian backbreaker that he says he used to subdue wrongdoers.There was the time on a trip to Washington when he was thrown into the Potomac River by parties hostile to the Guardian Angels. The time he assaulted an undercover police officer he mistakenly thought was attacking a mechanic. And the time he buried a kindergarten classmate in a sandbox for pulling on a girl’s pigtail once too often.Pinning down facts can be difficult, as intertwined as many tales told by Mr. Sliwa — and by others about him — have become with Guardian Angels lore.But he was born in Brooklyn in 1954. When he was growing up in Canarsie, his father, a sailor with the United States merchant marine and a liberal Democrat, and his mother, a churchgoing Catholic, encouraged him and his two sisters to embrace public service. His younger sister, Maria Sliwa, recalled him as a fiercely intelligent child. “He would inhale books,” said Ms. Sliwa, who works for his campaign. “He didn’t have to study, and he’d get an A.”Yet Mr. Sliwa dropped out of high school. He married briefly in his early 20s and moved to the South Bronx, where he worked as a night manager at a McDonald’s on East Fordham Road — regularly chasing robbers out of the restaurant, he said. With a stream of shockingly violent crimes playing on the evening news, an idea took hold. Soon, he had banded with a dozen other young men, and they began to patrol the subway in red berets. In 1979, the group became known as the Guardian Angels.City officials quickly branded them vigilantes.“He wanted to play cops and robbers with the so-called Guardian Angels, who were underage, untrained, and had no business trying to police the subways,” said Bill McKechnie, who led the transit officers’ union at the time and became Mr. Sliwa’s nemesis.The public took a different view. As the Guardian Angels’ exploits were recounted in the city’s newspapers, many New Yorkers cheered them on: The group’s members returned a wallet full of cash to its rightful owner. They tried to stop a mugging. They saved a token booth clerk. Mr. Sliwa kicked a shotgun from the clutches of a much larger man, while falling off a subway platform.Mr. Sliwa spent his days giving interviews, sometimes on national television. With his second wife Lisa, also a leader of the Guardian Angels, he was photographed for magazine stories. The group became the subject of a TV movie in 1980. Soon, he expanded to cities across the United States, and then to other countries.Mr. Sliwa and his second wife, Lisa Evers, on their wedding day, Christmas Eve, 1981. Bettmann Archive, via Getty ImagesIn later years, Mr. Sliwa would parlay his fame into lucrative radio and TV contracts. By the late 2000s, he was earning about $600,000 a year and had married his third wife, Mary. In 2006, they bought a $1.6 million apartment on the Upper East Side.Some who have patrolled with Mr. Sliwa say that he inspired them into activism and was a strong leader who always stayed at the front if they ran into danger.“People think Curtis is only there when the cameras are there,” said Keiji Oda, the group’s international director, who joined as a college student. “Curtis likes the camera, nobody denies that. But he is always there, even without the reporter.”But other former members became embittered by his tactics. Some accused him of faking heroics for headlines; he called them liars. Others grew angry about group members who had gotten hurt in the line of duty, with some saying training was inadequate.Six members of the Guardian Angels died. The first, Malcolm Brown, was 19 when he was fatally shot trying to stop a robbery in 1981. Malcolm’s mother, Ruthie Nelson, said in an interview that she believes her son might still be alive if he had not joined the organization. “He wanted to make a difference, but in hindsight I would have done anything I could to deter him from joining the group,” she said.In an interview, Mr. Sliwa said he was sorry for Ms. Nelson’s loss, but that all members joined the group voluntarily.Then came a revelation so damaging to Mr. Sliwa’s credibility that, by his own admission, he has never recovered. It followed a bout of conscience he said he had after nearly being fatally shot by a member of the Gambino crime family, whose leaders Mr. Sliwa had skewered on the radio.Upon seeing the outpouring of well wishes from New Yorkers in 1992, Mr. Sliwa confessed to The New York Post that he had made up stories to burnish the Guardian Angels’ image. The return of the wallet had been staged. There was no man with a shotgun on a subway platform.More recently, he said in an interview that he had invented the stories to gain traction against his critics and that he deeply regretted it. “If I could do it again, I would never do it,” he said. “It has followed me everywhere.”A second actBill McKechnie, a former leader of the transit officers’ union, has kept newspaper clippings about Mr. Sliwa’s fabrications. Saul Martinez for The New York TimesEventually things began to take a turn for Mr. Sliwa.His third wife, Mary, with whom he had a son, had become a formidable fund-raiser for the Guardian Angels, helping to organize golf games, poker tournaments and lavish galas that attracted prominent figures like Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg. The group was raising more than $1 million a year, tax filings show.Mr. Sliwa and his third wife, Mary, in 2010. Bobby Bank/WireImage, via Getty ImagesBut Mr. Sliwa was having an affair with another woman, Melinda Katz, who is now the Queens district attorney. They had two sons who they say were conceived through in vitro fertilization while he was married to Mary, leading to a messy breakup.Less than a year after they divorced, in 2012, the marital breakdown exploded in the tabloids. Mary Sliwa sued her former husband and Ms. Katz, accusing them of scheming to divert hundreds of thousands of dollars to support Ms. Katz and their two children and calling Mr. Sliwa “an inveterate, world-class liar.” The suit was later dismissed.Ms. Katz ended their relationship in 2014 and declined to discuss it beyond issuing a statement: “Curtis is the father of my children and obviously holds a very special place in their lives,” she said.Melinda Katz, who is now the Queens district attorney, with Mr. Sliwa in 2014. He is the father of her two sons. WENN Rights Ltd, via AlamyMr. Sliwa now pays about $15,000 in monthly child support for his three sons, a large share of the $400,000 annual income listed on a copy of the 2019 tax return that he provided to The New York Times. He also had judgments of nearly $250,000 recorded against him in 2016 for debts to his divorce lawyers, and he said he could not afford to pay $2,600 in taxes, penalties and interest owed to New York State by a company he used for paid speaking engagements. “I don’t have two nickels to rub together,” Mr. Sliwa said.As his romantic relationships were imploding, his career as a commentator was also heading in the wrong direction.A frequent guest on NY1 news segments, Mr. Sliwa had begun wearing costumes and incorporating props to ridicule elected officials. As time went on, the skits flirted with and sometimes crossed the line between satire and racism and sexism. In a 2010 NY1 appearance, bantering about the outgoing governor, David A. Paterson, who is Black, Mr. Sliwa broke into street slang and said, “My brother, my brother, give me some skin.”He mocked the New York City Council speaker, Christine Quinn, by wearing a bright red wig, which Ms. Quinn described as a sexist attack; he wore a sombrero and waved miniature Mexican flags while criticizing undocumented immigration; and he commented on the physical appearance of another female council speaker in sexually explicit terms.In 2018, NY1’s new owners let him go, but Mr. Sliwa continued doing talk radio on the conservative AM station WABC, where he takes phone calls and holds forth on culture, politics and relationships.Mr. Sliwa with the lawyer Ronald Kuby, his radio co-host, in 1998. “It’s just one long, desperate and reasonably entertaining cry for attention,” Mr. Kuby said of Mr. Sliwa’s career.Librado Romero/The New York TimesHe acknowledged mistakes but he also lamented what he called a “snowflake culture” that made his brand of political satire unacceptable. “I’m not a wallflower, OK?” he said. “I don’t know how you do satire and parody and do costumes and not offend people.”Mr. Sliwa said he had been sleeping on the floor at WABC when he met his fourth wife, Nancy. They live together in her small studio apartment with, by the latest count, 17 cats.Then, in March 2020, he said he would run for mayor, hoping to capitalize on his background at a time when New Yorkers were worried about crime. He took a leave from his radio show and went on to defeat his Republican opponent, Fernando Mateo, in June.Mr. Sliwa has waded into the culture wars during the campaign, lambasting Black Lives Matter protesters, and saying that looters had hit him in the jaw with a ball-peen hammer after the murder of George Floyd. His campaign hired a consultant who wrote a supportive opinion piece about the far-right Proud Boys group. And Mr. Sliwa falsely stated that subway crime had reached record highs and pledged to take “the handcuffs off the police.”At his second debate with Mr. Adams, Mr. Sliwa continued the provocations, falsely claiming that a City Council member who was born in the Dominican Republic was not a U.S. citizen.Mr. Sliwa has strolled the city’s neighborhoods in the final weeks of the campaign, sometimes receiving the sort of reception he might have gotten at the height of his fame 40 years ago.He was on a subway in Washington Heights on a recent Tuesday when a man in an army jacket called out to him. “I’ve got a lot of respect for you,” said the man, Frank R. Hooker Jr., a filmmaker who said he had followed Mr. Sliwa’s career since he was a child. Then he added: “I wish you were a Democrat, that’s the only thing.”Campaigning at a barbershop in Manhattan’s Washington Heights neighborhood. “Most people don’t think of me as anything but Curtis Sliwa,” he said. James Estrin/The New York TimesMr. Sliwa didn’t miss a beat. He urged Mr. Hooker to vote for him on an independent line.“Most people,” he said, “don’t think of me as anything but Curtis Sliwa.”Susan C. Beachy contributed research. More

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      On Vaccines and More, Republican Cowardice Harms America

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      Back in July, Kay Ivey, governor of Alabama, had some strong and sensible things to say about Covid-19 vaccines. “I want folks to get vaccinated,” she declared. “That’s the cure. That prevents everything.” She went on to say that the unvaccinated are “letting us down.”Three months later Ivey directed state agencies not to cooperate with federal Covid-19 vaccination mandates.Ivey’s swift journey from common sense and respect for science to destructive partisan nonsense — nonsense that is killing tens of thousands of Americans — wasn’t unique. On the contrary, it was a recapitulation of the journey the whole Republican Party has taken on issue after issue, from tax cuts to the Big Lie about the 2020 election.When we talk about the G.O.P.’s moral descent, we tend to focus on the obvious extremists, like the conspiracy theorists who claim that climate change is a hoax and Jan. 6 was a false flag operation. But the crazies wouldn’t be driving the Republican agenda so completely if it weren’t for the cowards, Republicans who clearly know better but reliably swallow their misgivings and go along with the party line. And at this point crazies and cowards essentially make up the party’s entire elected wing.Consider, for example, the claim that tax cuts pay for themselves. In 1980 George H.W. Bush, running against Ronald Reagan for the Republican presidential nomination, called that assertion “voodoo economic policy.” Everything we’ve seen since then says that he was right. But Bush soon climbed down, and by 2017 even supposed “moderates” like Susan Collins accepted claims that the Trump tax cut would reduce, not increase, the budget deficit. (It increased the deficit.)Or consider climate change. As recently as 2008 John McCain campaigned for president in part on a proposal to put a cap on U.S. greenhouse gas emissions. But at this point Republicans in Congress are united in their opposition to any substantive action to limit global warming, with 30 G.O.P. senators outright denying the overwhelming scientific evidence that human activities are causing climate change.The falsehoods that are poisoning America’s politics tend to share similar life histories. They begin in cynicism, spread through disinformation and culminate in capitulation, as Republicans who know the truth decide to acquiesce in lies.Take the claim of a stolen election. Donald Trump never had any evidence on his side, but he didn’t care — he just wanted to hold on to power or, failing that, promulgate a lie that would help him retain his hold on the G.O.P. Despite the lack of evidence and the failure of every attempt to produce or create a case, however, a steady drumbeat of propaganda has persuaded an overwhelming majority of Republicans that Joe Biden’s victory was illegitimate.And establishment Republicans, who at first pushed back against the Big Lie, have gone quiet or even begun to promote the falsehood. Thus on Wednesday, The Wall Street Journal published, without corrections or fact checks, a letter to the editor from Trump that was full of demonstrable lies — and in so doing gave those lies a new, prominent platform.The G.O.P.’s journey toward what it is now with respect to Covid-19 — an anti-vaccine, objectively pro-pandemic party — followed the same trajectory.Although Republicans like Ron DeSantis and Greg Abbott claim that their opposition to vaccine requirements is about freedom, the fact that both governors have tried to stop private businesses from requiring customers or staff to be vaccinated shows this is a smoke screen. Pretty clearly, the anti-vaccine push began as an act of politically motivated sabotage. After all, a successful vaccination campaign that ended the pandemic would have been good political news for Biden.We should note, by the way, that this sabotage has, so far at least, paid off. While there are multiple reasons many Americans remain unvaccinated, there’s a strong correlation between a county’s political lean and both its vaccination rate and its death rate in recent months. And the persistence of Covid, which has in turn been a drag on the economy, has been an important factor dragging down Biden’s approval rating.More important for the internal dynamics of the G.O.P., however, is that many in the party’s base have bought into assertions that requiring vaccination against Covid-19 is somehow a tyrannical intrusion of the state into personal decisions. In fact, many Republican voters appear to have turned against longstanding requirements that parents have their children vaccinated against other contagious diseases.And true to form, elected Republicans like Governor Ivey who initially spoke in favor of vaccines have folded and surrendered to the extremists, even though they must know that in so doing they will cause many deaths.I’m not sure exactly why cowardice has become the norm among elected Republicans who aren’t dedicated extremists. But if you want to understand how the G.O.P. became such a threat to everything America should stand for, the cowards are at least as important a factor as the crazies.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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      Will We See Red or Blue Mirages in Election Results on Tuesday?

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      Mail-in ballots skewed early returns in some states in 2020. Will the trend repeat itself on Tuesday?Sign up here to get On Politics in your inbox on Tuesdays and Thursdays.Virginia was not close last November. Joseph R. Biden Jr. won there by 10 percentage points, roughly the same margin by which then-President Donald J. Trump won Alaska.But for hours after the polls closed in Virginia, partial returns showed Biden trailing, at times by substantial margins — around 18 points, for instance, as of 9 p.m. Eastern time.Part of that was geography; the rural, conservative counties of southwestern Virginia tend to start reporting election results before the more populous Democratic strongholds of Northern Virginia. But it was also a product of something new: a so-called red mirage. Because so many Democrats voted by mail in response to the pandemic and mail-in ballots took longer to process, the early returns were so skewed that even an easy win didn’t look like it for hours. And narrow wins? Well, just look at Georgia or Pennsylvania, which weren’t called for Biden for days.Other states started processing mail-in ballots first, creating blue mirages. Around the same time that Trump appeared to be running away with Virginia, Biden appeared narrowly ahead in Ohio, where he actually lost by eight percentage points.Now, the question is whether the mirages were one more weird 2020 thing, or whether they are now a long-term feature of U.S. politics.More specifically: Should we expect to see mirages in the important elections happening around the country next Tuesday? Like the Virginia governor’s race between the Democrat Terry McAuliffe and the Republican Glenn Youngkin? Or the race for a seat on the Pennsylvania Supreme Court?On the one hand, the state of the world, and of U.S. politics, is not what it was last fall. The coronavirus case rate is decreasing, about two-thirds of Americans have received at least one dose of a vaccine, and there are fewer restrictions on daily activities. And while Trump’s lies about fraud in last year’s election have infused nearly every corner of the Republican Party, his broadsides against early and mail voting are no longer in the headlines every day.Christina Freundlich, a spokeswoman for McAuliffe, said the campaign’s data showed that many Democrats who voted by mail last year were returning to in-person voting on Election Day this year. Conversely, my colleague Nick Corasaniti reports that some Republicans are realizing that maligning early and mail voting could hurt them, and are encouraging their supporters to consider those methods. Together, these trends could narrow the partisan gap between early and Election Day ballots.But narrowing is not eliminating.Consider California, where Gov. Gavin Newsom soundly defeated a Republican recall effort last month. With two-thirds of ballots counted, he was about five percentage points ahead of where he ended up with all ballots counted. While the shift was irrelevant in a race Newsom won by a huge margin, it was more than large enough to have created a false impression if the race had been competitive.McAuliffe’s campaign expects early returns in Virginia to be skewed toward Youngkin. That is likely to be the case regardless of who ultimately wins..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-16ed7iq{width:100%;display:-webkit-box;display:-webkit-flex;display:-ms-flexbox;display:flex;-webkit-align-items:center;-webkit-box-align:center;-ms-flex-align:center;align-items:center;-webkit-box-pack:center;-webkit-justify-content:center;-ms-flex-pack:center;justify-content:center;padding:10px 0;background-color:white;}.css-pmm6ed{display:-webkit-box;display:-webkit-flex;display:-ms-flexbox;display:flex;-webkit-align-items:center;-webkit-box-align:center;-ms-flex-align:center;align-items:center;}.css-pmm6ed > :not(:first-child){margin-left:5px;}.css-5gimkt{font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-size:0.8125rem;font-weight:700;-webkit-letter-spacing:0.03em;-moz-letter-spacing:0.03em;-ms-letter-spacing:0.03em;letter-spacing:0.03em;text-transform:uppercase;color:#333;}.css-5gimkt:after{content:’Collapse’;}.css-rdoyk0{-webkit-transition:all 0.5s ease;transition:all 0.5s ease;-webkit-transform:rotate(180deg);-ms-transform:rotate(180deg);transform:rotate(180deg);}.css-eb027h{max-height:5000px;-webkit-transition:max-height 0.5s ease;transition:max-height 0.5s ease;}.css-6mllg9{-webkit-transition:all 0.5s ease;transition:all 0.5s ease;position:relative;opacity:0;}.css-6mllg9:before{content:”;background-image:linear-gradient(180deg,transparent,#ffffff);background-image:-webkit-linear-gradient(270deg,rgba(255,255,255,0),#ffffff);height:80px;width:100%;position:absolute;bottom:0px;pointer-events:none;}.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;}If the 2020 election is a guide, partial results in Pennsylvania — where voters will decide an expensive and contentious race for a state Supreme Court seat that is currently held by a Republican — could be similarly misleading.It’s harder to predict whether we’ll see mirages elsewhere, much less their color, because many states have revised their election procedures since November.In New Jersey, home to a governor’s race that is expected to be less competitive than Virginia’s (Gov. Phil Murphy, a Democrat, has a strong polling lead over his Republican opponent, Jack Ciattarelli), the early presidential returns were pretty similar to the final results. But that may be because New Jersey ran last year’s election almost entirely by mail, and it’s hard to have a mirage when almost everyone votes by the same method. The state is not doing that this time around.Other notable races next week are for the mayors of Atlanta (Georgia had a red mirage last year), Boston (Massachusetts had no major mirage), Buffalo and New York City (New York State had no major mirage), Detroit (Michigan had a red mirage), Minneapolis (Minnesota had no major mirage) and Seattle (Washington conducts all-mail elections, so no mirage).But if we can’t predict where the mirages will be, we can say this: They will not in any way be evidence of foul play, as Trump so vociferously and falsely claimed after his loss. They’re just the way our elections work now. There is nothing nefarious about election administration procedures varying from state to state, or certain ballots being easier and faster to count than others.So don’t celebrate — or panic — based on what you see at 9 p.m. You might just be in that alternate universe where Trump won Virginia and Biden won Ohio.Change into comfy pajamas and check back in the morning.nine days of ideas to remake our futureAs world leaders gather in Glasgow for consequential climate change negotiations, join us at The New York Times Climate Hub to explore answers to one of the most urgent questions of our time: How do we adapt and thrive on a changing planet? Glasgow, Scotland, Nov. 3-11; in person and online. Get tickets at nytclimatehub.com.On Politics is also available as a newsletter. Sign up here to get it delivered to your inbox.Is there anything you think we’re missing? Anything you want to see more of? We’d love to hear from you. Email us at onpolitics@nytimes.com. More

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      Why the Virginia Election Is Freaking Democrats Out

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      With just under a week to go, the governor’s race in Virginia has gotten tighter than Spanx on a hippo, prompting much agita in Democratic circles. When the Democrats won full control of the statehouse in 2019, for the first time in over 20 years, many political watchers declared the swing state’s blue shift complete. But a recent poll from Monmouth University has the party’s nominee, the former governor Terry McAuliffe, tied with Glenn Youngkin, a former private equity exec who has flirted with the election-fraud lies that are now dogma in Donald Trump’s G.O.P.Virginia has a pesky habit of picking governors from the party that doesn’t hold the White House. To raise the stakes: This election is seen as a harbinger of next year’s midterms. Mobilizing base voters is considered the key to victory.None of which is great news for the Democratic Party, which is confronting multiple warning signs that its voters are not all that fired up about the Virginia race — or about politics in general.The Monmouth poll found Virginia Republicans more motivated and more enthusiastic than Democrats about this election, a gap that has widened in recent months.Terry McAuliffeDrew Angerer/Getty ImagesCompounding concerns are findings from a series of focus groups conducted this year by the Democratic firm Lake Research Partners, targeting Democrats considered less likely to turn out at the polls. It found a couple of reasons that some Virginia women are uninspired by the political scene. Among Black women, there is frustration that Democrats won’t deliver for them, and so it doesn’t much matter which party’s candidates win, explains Joshua Ulibarri, who heads the firm’s Virginia research. Among younger women, especially Latinas and white women, there is a sense that the Trump danger has passed and that they can let their guard down. “They think we have slayed the giant,” says Mr. Ulibarri. “They think Republicans are more sane and centered now.”Oof. Who’s going to break it to them?The challenge extends beyond Virginia. Almost half of women in four crucial swing states — Arizona, Georgia, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin — are paying less attention to politics since Mr. Trump left office, according to a May survey by American Bridge 21st Century, a Democratic super PAC. This includes 46 percent of Biden voters — particularly those who are younger, are college educated or are urban dwellers. Focus groups that the firm conducted in August yielded similar findings.When it comes to 2022, younger voters are feeling particularly uninspired, according to a September survey by Lake Research and Emerson College Polling on behalf of All In Together, an advocacy group that encourages women’s involvement in politics. Only 35 percent of voters 18 to 29 years old said they were very motivated to vote next year, and just 28 percent said they were certain to vote. “This engagement gap could be a major concern for Democrats,” the group noted, pointing to research from Tufts University showing the importance of young voters to Joe Biden’s candidacy in multiple swing states last year.This kind of deflation was perhaps inevitable. The Trump years were the political equivalent of being tweaked out on meth 24/7. All those scandals. All those protests. So many constitutional crises. Two impeachments. It was enough to exhaust any normal person.Mr. Biden built his brand on the promise to dial back the crazy and start the healing. Non-MAGA voters liked him in part because they longed for a president — and a political scene — they could forget about for weeks on end. Having weathered the storm, everyone deserves a break.But if Democrats lose their sense of urgency when it comes to voting, the party is in serious trouble. Republicans are working hard to keep their voters outraged and thus primed to turn out. They are seeking to capitalize on a difference in motivation between the parties that Mr. Trump neatly exploited in his rise to power.As is often noted, the essence of the modern Republican Party has been boiled down to: Own the libs. The impulse on the other side is not parallel. Democrats try to mobilize their voters with promises to enact popular policies — paid family leave, expanded Medicare coverage, cheaper prescription drugs, universal pre-K and so on. Democratic voters were desperate to send Mr. Trump packing. But beyond that, what many, many blue-staters want isn’t to own red-state America so much as to return to ignoring it altogether.Conservatives see the culture and economy evolving in key ways, leaving them behind. Ignoring the shift isn’t an option for them. Mr. Trump electrified much of red-state America by promising to beat back the changes — and, better still, bring to heel the condescending urban elites driving them. The lie that the 2020 presidential election was stolen further fuels conservatives’ existing sense that progressives are destroying their world.Outrage and fear are powerful motivators — ones at which Mr. Trump and his breed of Republicans excel. So while the non-MAGA electorate may be rightly exhausted, Democrats should beware of letting their voters get comfy or complacent just because Mr. Trump is currently cooling his heels in Florida. That is exactly what his Republican Party is counting on in Virginia — and everywhere else.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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      An Oath Keeper Was at the Capitol Riot. On Tuesday, He’s on the Ballot.

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      Edward Durfee Jr. is a member of the far-right militia and was at the Capitol on Jan. 6. He is now running for office in New Jersey.Edward Durfee Jr. is many things: a former Marine, a libertarian who distrusts the Federal Reserve and an active member of the far-right Oath Keepers militia who leads the group’s northern New Jersey region and was outside the Capitol during the Jan. 6 attack.He is also running for the New Jersey State Assembly as a Republican.More than 20 Oath Keepers have been charged in connection with the Jan. 6 attack. Prosecutors have accused members of the militia of plotting to overturn the election by breaching the Capitol and making plans to ferry “heavy weapons” in a boat across the Potomac River into Washington.Mr. Durfee, a 67-year-old tech consultant, said he did not enter the Capitol during the assault, and he condemned the violence that led to several deaths.But he wholeheartedly embraces the ideology of the Oath Keepers, an antigovernment group that pledges to support and defend its interpretation of the Constitution against all enemies.The group, whose name comes from their original mission to disobey certain government orders, became a zealous supporter of former President Donald J. Trump, promoting conspiracy theories about “deep-state” cabals attempting to overthrow him and embracing his relentless lies that the 2020 election was illegitimate.Mr. Durfee said he went to Washington in January to “stop the steal” and to protest against disproved claims of election fraud.Mr. Durfee, in blue, outside of the Capitol on Jan. 6 with the Oath Keeper founder Stewart Rhodes.Eric WoodsBut he is more than just a fringe candidate mounting a long-shot race for the Legislature.He also leads the Republican committee in the town where he lives, Northvale, underscoring the extent to which right-wing activism has become increasingly mainstream within the G.O.P., even in a Democratic stronghold like Bergen County, less than 30 miles from Manhattan.The Oath Keepers, founded more than a decade ago, are known to draw members from the ranks of former military and law enforcement personnel. But records from the militia group, leaked after a database was hacked and shared with a group known as Distributed Denial of Secrets, have offered a new window into the organization’s links to active-duty police officers and government officials.In New York City, Mayor Bill de Blasio has said that any officer associated with the Oath Keepers should be investigated — and fired.Tuesday’s election in New Jersey features a matchup between Jack Ciattarelli, a Republican, and the Democratic incumbent, Philip D. Murphy, one of just two governor’s races in the country. All seats are also on the ballot in the state Legislature, where Democrats are expected to retain majority control.Mr. Durfee — who gathered 165 signatures to get on the ballot and then ran unopposed in the primary — has called for ending all governmental oversight of parental rights, permitting families to use taxpayer-funded vouchers to pay for private and parochial schools, and cutting state agency budgets by 5 percent.He has few illusions of outright victory.“I’m an oxymoron in government,” he said. “I’m on the ballot because nobody challenged me. There’s that lack of participation among our citizens.”He is running to represent a liberal area of northern New Jersey just across the Hudson River from New York. Registered Democrats in the district outnumber Republicans by more than three to one, making it difficult to find Republicans willing to invest the time and money to mount hard-to-win campaigns, party leaders said. (A frequent Republican candidate in the district, Dierdre Paul, called them “kamikaze races.”)“I’m not this ogre that’s hiding behind the fence — ‘Oh, here comes one of them Democrats. Let’s jump on them,’” Mr. Durfee said.Gregg Vigliotti for The New York TimesThe county’s Republican chairman, Jack Zisa, defended Mr. Durfee as a “mild-mannered conservative,” but said that his main attribute was far more transactional: He was the only person willing to run.“It’s a very tough district for Republicans and Mr. Durfee was, frankly, one of only a couple people who put his name in,” Mr. Zisa said.Mr. Durfee is one of dozens of Oath Keepers across the country who are already in office or running for election, nearly all of them Republicans, according to a ProPublica analysis of the hacked database.Roy Sokoloski, a Republican, was involved with recruiting candidates to run for office when he was a councilman in Northvale, a 5,000-person town on the northern border with New York State. He and Mr. Durfee worship at the same Roman Catholic church.“If you don’t know his political background, he’s a nice fellow,” said Mr. Sokoloski, an architect.But he believes Mr. Durfee’s candidacy is an ominous sign for a once-formidable party struggling to remain relevant in a state with nearly 1.1 million more registered Democrats than Republicans.“He’s the worst candidate that the Republicans could have endorsed,” said Mr. Sokoloski, who said he voted against Mr. Trump twice and spoke wistfully of a time when G.O.P. leaders focused on issues like high taxes, not overturning elections.“If the Republican Party can only find people like that,” he said, “what does that say about the party?”Mr. Durfee said he drove from New Jersey on Jan. 6 to help with an Oath Keeper security detail. “We weren’t enforcers,” Mr. Durfee said. “We were just there as eyes.”He said he was close enough to the chaos to get doused with pepper spray, but far enough away to avoid being swept into the crowd that rampaged through the Capitol.Brian D. Sicknick, a Capitol Police officer who grew up in New Jersey and faced off against the angry mob, died after suffering what a medical examiner ruled were multiple strokes.“It just morphed into something and got out of control,” Mr. Durfee said. “It’s just shameful.”A devotee of the libertarian Ron Paul, Mr. Durfee speaks openly about his involvement with the Oath Keepers, which he said he joined in 2009, the year it was founded following the election of Barack Obama.Mr. Durfee runs the Oath Keepers’ northern New Jersey operation and said he was responsible for maintaining the national group’s email and membership lists, which were included in the documents that were hacked.Mr. Durfee, a tech consultant, says he maintains the Oath Keepers’ membership database. The list was hacked, offering a clearer understanding of people linked to the far-right militia group.Gregg Vigliotti for The New York TimesHis campaign, he said, has consisted mainly of attending community events, handing out business cards and directing people to a candidate website he built.He has little money to spend in his race against the Democratic Assembly candidates, Shama A. Haider and Ellen J. Park. He and two other candidates running on the Republican line for the Legislature have reported that, as a group, they do not expect to spend more than $15,800.He has not gotten support from the state Republican Party, and Mr. Ciattarelli has tried to distance himself from Mr. Durfee. “Anyone who advocates terrorism, or had anything to do with the insurrection, has no place in our party,” said Chris Russell, a strategist for the Ciattarelli campaign..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-16ed7iq{width:100%;display:-webkit-box;display:-webkit-flex;display:-ms-flexbox;display:flex;-webkit-align-items:center;-webkit-box-align:center;-ms-flex-align:center;align-items:center;-webkit-box-pack:center;-webkit-justify-content:center;-ms-flex-pack:center;justify-content:center;padding:10px 0;background-color:white;}.css-pmm6ed{display:-webkit-box;display:-webkit-flex;display:-ms-flexbox;display:flex;-webkit-align-items:center;-webkit-box-align:center;-ms-flex-align:center;align-items:center;}.css-pmm6ed > :not(:first-child){margin-left:5px;}.css-5gimkt{font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-size:0.8125rem;font-weight:700;-webkit-letter-spacing:0.03em;-moz-letter-spacing:0.03em;-ms-letter-spacing:0.03em;letter-spacing:0.03em;text-transform:uppercase;color:#333;}.css-5gimkt:after{content:’Collapse’;}.css-rdoyk0{-webkit-transition:all 0.5s ease;transition:all 0.5s ease;-webkit-transform:rotate(180deg);-ms-transform:rotate(180deg);transform:rotate(180deg);}.css-eb027h{max-height:5000px;-webkit-transition:max-height 0.5s ease;transition:max-height 0.5s ease;}.css-6mllg9{-webkit-transition:all 0.5s ease;transition:all 0.5s ease;position:relative;opacity:0;}.css-6mllg9:before{content:”;background-image:linear-gradient(180deg,transparent,#ffffff);background-image:-webkit-linear-gradient(270deg,rgba(255,255,255,0),#ffffff);height:80px;width:100%;position:absolute;bottom:0px;pointer-events:none;}.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;}Mr. Durfee said he preferred to keep his savings in precious metals based on a worry that paper “fiat money” will eventually be devalued.“I have dollars for my wife — we all have to live,” he said. “But I save in silver and gold.”He spent two years in the Marines in noncombat roles. After earning his G.E.D., he took classes in computer programming at Chubb Institute. Last year, he lost a race for Northvale councilman.A grandfather of three who opposes abortion, he is an ardent Catholic and a fourth-degree member of the Knights of Columbus, a rank given for patriotism.“I’m not this ogre that’s hiding behind the fence — ‘Oh, here comes one of them Democrats. Let’s jump on them,’” he said.Mr. Durfee participated in a videoconference with the Oath Keepers founder, Stewart Rhodes, and dozens of other members 10 days after the 2020 election, according to a leaked recording of the call released by Unicorn Riot, an alternative media site. As speakers discussed upcoming protests in Washington, Mr. Durfee can be heard urging people to “show the respect that we have for our country and our Constitution.”“We’re not coming down there with fisticuffs, unless, you know,” he said, his voice trailing off.“We’re all eager to be overzealous,” he added, “but we still have to maintain that position of respect for our flag and for our country.”Instead, the violence that unfolded shook the nation, leading to the arrests of more than 600 people and a congressional investigation into what the F.B.I. has called domestic terrorism.Assemblywoman Valerie Vainieri Huttle, a Democrat who represents Mr. Durfee’s district, said she saw his candidacy mainly as an indicator of Mr. Trump’s grip on the Republican Party, even in liberal bastions like Bergen County.Republican strongholds still exist in New Jersey, especially in the rural northwest and along the Jersey Shore; Mr. Trump lost to Joseph R. Biden Jr. statewide by 16 percentage points, yet beat him in Ocean County by 29 points.Still, Ms. Huttle said she was surprised to see such a far-right candidate vying for a seat she has held for 15 years.“I would understand it in South Jersey,” said Ms. Huttle, who lost a primary race for State Senate and will be leaving the Legislature in January. “I don’t understand it here.”Mr. Zisa, the Republican chairman, said it would be inaccurate to read too much into Mr. Durfee’s candidacy.“We’re the Republican Party,” he said. “We’re not the Oath Keeper party.”Nonetheless, he is hoping to capitalize on the media interest in Mr. Durfee’s affiliation with the extremist group. If it boosts turnout, he said, it could result in spinoff value for Republican candidates in more competitive races.“This might drive the Republican voter out,” Mr. Zisa said. More

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      Cori Bush and AOC Are Right About Jan. 6 and 1866

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      When, in the early morning hours of Jan. 7, Congress finally certified the 2020 Electoral College count, more than 140 Republican members of Congress had voted, in one way or another, to reject the outcome. They had embraced the spirit of the mob that stormed the Capitol the day before, even if they had not physically joined it.With that said, there was a smaller number of congressional Republicans who may have gone further than simply casting a vote the way President Donald Trump wanted them to, in the days leading up to Jan. 6. According to a new report by Hunter Walker in Rolling Stone, “Multiple people associated with the March for Trump and Stop the Steal events that took place during this period communicated with members of Congress throughout this process.”Walker’s sources, two unnamed organizers who say they helped plan the rallies, claim that Representatives Marjorie Taylor Greene, Andy Biggs, Paul Gosar, Lauren Boebert, Mo Brooks, Madison Cawthorn and Louie Gohmert or members of their staffs spoke to or collaborated with pro-Trump activists in the days, weeks and months before the attack on the Capitol. Gosar, a staunch defender of the former president, reportedly told potential rally goers that Trump would give them a “blanket pardon” for their activities.Greene, Gohmert, Boebert, Brooks, Cawthorn and Biggs have all pushed back strongly on the Rolling Stone report, which appeared over the weekend. Gosar called it “categorically false and defamatory.”“There was a meeting at the White House about voter fraud and election theft activity,” Brooks said. “But I have no recollection of any kind of organizational activity regarding the speeches on Jan. 6.”For his part, Gohmert released a statement Monday: “No one in my office, including me, participated in the planning of the rally or in any criminal activity on Jan. 6. We did not attend or participate at all.”Boebert also issued a statement on Monday: “Let me be clear. I had no role in the planning or execution of any event that took place at the Capitol or anywhere in Washington, D.C. on Jan. 6th.”The organizers who spoke to Rolling Stone apparently plan to testify before the Jan. 6 select committee to provide more details about what they say was collaboration between Republican lawmakers and the pro-Trump activists who planned the events that ultimately led to the attack.In the meantime, some Democrats are already calling for their removal from office.“Any member of Congress who helped plot a terrorist attack on our nation’s Capitol must be expelled,” Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez wrote on Twitter. “Those responsible remain a danger to our democracy, our country, and human life in the vicinity of our Capitol and beyond.”Likewise, Representative Cori Bush of Missouri said on Twitter that the House must “investigate and expel members of Congress who helped incite the deadly insurrection on our Capitol.”Bush had actually introduced a House resolution for this purpose just days after the attack. “There is no place in the people’s House for these heinous actions,” she said at the time, referring to “members who attempted to disenfranchise voters and incited this violence.”“I firmly believe,” she went on, “that these members are in breach of their sworn Oath of Office to support and defend the Constitution of the United States. They must be held accountable.”They weren’t. There was simply no appetite, among House leadership, for such drastic and decisive action. There still isn’t. But it was a serious demand, and we should take it seriously.Bush’s resolution rests on Section 3 of the 14th Amendment to the Constitution, which cleared Congress in 1866 and was ratified in 1868:No person shall be a Senator or Representative in Congress, or elector of President and Vice President, or hold any office, civil or military, under the United States, or under any state, who, having previously taken an oath, as a member of Congress, or as an officer of the United States, or as a member of any state legislature, or as an executive or judicial officer of any state, to support the Constitution of the United States, shall have engaged in insurrection or rebellion against the same, or given aid or comfort to the enemies thereof. But Congress may by a vote of two-thirds of each House, remove such disability.In plain English, Congress has the power and authority to expel from office any constitutional officer who engages in sedition and takes up arms against the Constitution of the United States.The original context for this, obviously, was the Civil War and its immediate aftermath. By the summer of 1865, President Andrew Johnson, a conservative unionist from Tennessee, had taken charge of Reconstruction with a plan to restore the Southern states as equals, their political and constitutional status essentially unchanged from what it was before the war.Under Johnson’s arrangement, the former Confederate states could operate under their antebellum constitutions, the end of slavery notwithstanding. All-white electorates could elect all-white legislatures and send all-white delegations to Washington. Some of these men were, like Johnson, conservative unionists. Many more were former rebel leaders. Alexander Stephens — of the infamous Cornerstone Speech — was elected to represent Georgia in the Senate in 1866 after he was arrested and imprisoned as the former vice president of the Confederacy in 1865.Either way, neither group supported anything like fundamental change to the social and political fabric of the South. If seated, these delegations to Congress would stymie and block any Republican effort to reconstruct the South as an open society with free labor.Indeed, had every Southern representative been seated, Republicans would not have had the votes to get the 14th Amendment through Congress in the first place, on account of the two-thirds majority requirement for passage.Worse than potential obstruction was the real chance that the South would re-enter Congress with as much, or more, political power than it had before the war. The 13th Amendment had abolished chattel slavery, which effectively gutted the three-fifths compromise. And thanks to Johnson, recalcitrant Southern elites could form new governments without extending the vote to free and recently freed Blacks. When the 14th Amendment repealed the three-fifths compromise outright, the effect would be to give the South a considerable bonus in Congress.“Beginning with the reapportionment of 1870,” the legal scholar Garrett Epps writes in “The Antebellum Political Background of the Fourteenth Amendment,” “the Southern states would receive full representation for each freed slave rather than a mere sixty percent, a change that would give the region thirteen more House seats and electoral votes without the extension of minimal political rights, much less the franchise, to the freed slaves who formed the basis of the representation.”To head off this threat, Republicans took two steps. First, they refused to recognize, much less seat, members from the states readmitted under Johnson’s policies. And then, looking to the future, they wrote this prohibition on former Confederate leaders into the Constitution as Section 3 of the 14th Amendment. Republicans would prevent the re-ascendence of this “slave power” with a blockade of federal office deployed against Southern elites.If the ultimate goal of Section 3, in other words, was to preserve the integrity of Congress against those who would capture its power and plot against the constitutional order itself, then Representative Bush is right to cite the clause against any members of Congress who turn out to have collaborated with the plotters to overturn the election and whose allies are still fighting to “stop the steal.”There is a movement afoot to undermine electoral democracy for the sake of a would-be strongman. We have the tools to stop it. Congress, and by this I mean the Democratic majority, should use them.The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. 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