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    How the Right’s Purity Tests Are Haunting the House G.O.P.

    When Casey Stengel had the misfortune to be the manager of the historically inept 1962 New York Mets, his famous plaint was, “Can’t anybody here play this game?”The question for House Republicans, mired in a weekslong demonstration of their internal dysfunction, is: Does anybody here want to play this game?It is tempting to interpret the chaos in the House as the function of a dispute between the pro- and anti-Trump elements of the party, but this isn’t quite right: The deposed speaker, Kevin McCarthy, is in no way anti-Trump. Instead, there were pre-existing trends, either represented or augmented by the rise of Donald Trump, that have undermined G.O.P. coherence and made the Republican House practically ungovernable in the current circumstances.The conservative movement has warred against the party establishment since its inception. Conservative heroes like Barry Goldwater, Ronald Reagan and Newt Gingrich rose by arraying themselves against Republican powers-that-be that they considered too timid and moderate.The Tea Party of the 2010s seemingly reflected the same tendency toward greater conservative purity. Yet, it was more populist and more disaffected with the G.O.P., which is why so many of its leaders and organizations lined up so readily behind Donald Trump.On top of this, the two losses to Barack Obama, especially the second one in 2012, convinced many Republican voters that their party was feckless and naïve. Mitt Romney was serious, civic-minded and conscientious, and got absolutely bulldozed by the Obama campaign, which portrayed him as some kind of monster.The thinking of a lot of Republicans after that was, basically, If you portray all our candidates as crude, unethical partisan haters, well, maybe we should give you one.At the same time, the power of the party establishment had atrophied thanks to all sort of factors, from campaign-finance reform to social media, while it still remained a hate object for much of the right. This made the establishment a ready target for Donald Trump in 2016, but ill-suited to fighting back against him.Mr. Trump is a little like Bernie Sanders — a forceful critic of his party’s mainstream who isn’t at his core a member of the party. (Senator Sanders isn’t a registered Democrat, while Mr. Trump became a Republican again after flitting among various affiliations and would surely quit once more if things didn’t go his way.) The difference is that Mr. Trump won the Republican nomination in a hostile takeover, whereas the Democratic Party had the antibodies to resist Mr. Sanders.Even as Mr. Trump was something new in Republican politics, he was also something familiar. Even before his rise, Republicans were much more susceptible than Democrats to nonserious presidential candidates running to increase their profile for media gigs, book sales and the like. Mr. Trump was this type of candidate on a much larger scale, and, again, happened to actually win.One way to look at it is that the very successful model that the commentator Ann Coulter forged in the world of conservative media — generate controversy and never, ever apologize — came to be replicated by candidates and officeholders.Both Vivek Ramaswamy and Matt Gaetz are creatures of politics for the sake of notoriety. It creates entirely different incentives from the traditional approach: Stoking outrage is good, blowing things up is useful, and it never pays to get caught doing the responsible thing.At the congressional level, there was a related, although distinct phenomenon. With the rise of the Tea Party, the tendency of the right flank of the House Republican caucus to make the life of the party leadership miserable became more pronounced. This was especially true in spending fights. The pattern was that the right, associated with the House Freedom Caucus after its founding in 2015, would hold out a standard of impossible purity, and then when leaders inevitability failed to meet it, denounce them as weak and traitorous.There are, of course, legitimate disagreements about tactics and priorities, and the leadership doesn’t always make the right calls. But some of these members consider the legislative process in and of itself corrupt, and refuse to participate even if they can increase the negotiating leverage of their own side or move spending deals marginally in their direction.This was a notable dynamic in the spending fight that led to the toppling of Speaker McCarthy. His fiercest critics did nothing to help keep him from having to resort to the option they found most hateful — namely, going to Democrats for a kick-the-can deal in advance of a government shutdown.Representative Gaetz, the Gavrilo Princip of the Republican meltdown, exemplifies almost all these trends. He is a House Freedom Caucus-type in his attitudes toward the leadership and his rhetoric about federal spending, but his ultimate political loyalty is to Donald Trump. He’s overwhelmingly concerned with garnering media attention. And no one has the power to bring him to heel.There’s no dealing with the likes of Mr. Gaetz because he’s operating on a different dimension from someone like Mr. McCarthy, a pragmatist and coalition-builder who is trying to move the ball incrementally. It’s the difference between politics as theater and politics as the art of the possible; politics as individual brand-building and politics as team sport.In the last Congress, Nancy Pelosi had a slim majority like Mr. McCarthy and a restive handful of members on her left flank, the so-called Squad. Yet she held it together. The difference is that Ms. Pelosi still had considerable legitimacy as a leader, which gave her the moral power to keep everyone together. It is instructive to contrast her not just with Mr. McCarthy, but with the Senate minority leader, Mitch McConnell. Whereas Ms. Pelosi, an institutionalist concerned with getting things done, is a legend among Democrats, Mr. McConnell, also an institutionalist concerned with getting things done, is hated by much of his party’s own base and constantly attacked by the party’s de facto leader, Donald Trump.The situation in the Republican House caucus has now developed into a sort of tribal war, where memories of real or alleged wrongs committed by the other side lead to more conflict and more bad feelings. So, establishmentarians and relative moderates were willing to take down the speaker candidacy of the House Freedom Caucus co-founder Jim Jordan, rejecting his new argument that everyone had to come together for the good of the whole.It may be that exhaustion sets in and Republicans eventually settle on a speaker, or it may be that the problem is unresolvable and they will have to find a way to govern under the speaker pro tempore, Patrick McHenry. Regardless, it’s become obvious over the last three weeks that no, not nearly enough Republicans want to play this game.Rich Lowry is the editor in chief of National Review.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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    La retórica de Donald Trump se ha vuelto más amenazadora. Se puede hacer algo

    La vida de Donald Trump ha sido una clase magistral de evasión de consecuencias.Seis de sus empresas han sido declaradas en bancarrota, pero él sigue siendo aclamado como un visionario de los negocios. Se ha casado tres veces, pero sigue siendo amado por los evangélicos. Ha pasado por dos juicios políticos, pero sigue siendo uno de los principales candidatos a la presidencia de Estados Unidos. Durante años, los críticos de Trump han creído que llegaría un momento de rendición de cuentas, a consecuencia, por ejemplo, de alguna pesquisa de Bob Woodward o una investigación Robert Mueller. Pero luego llegaba la decepción.Ahora Trump pasa por otro momento de aparente peligro al empezar a enfrentarse a sus acusadores en procedimientos judiciales, penales y civiles. Aún faltan meses para que se conozcan los veredictos de estos casos, pero él está reaccionando con la aparente confianza de que las consecuencias de sus acciones, como siempre, no lo perjudicarán. Pero es igual de importante preguntarse cómo afectará a otros la respuesta de Trump a su último aprieto, especialmente a quienes ahora son objetivo de su indignación.En las últimas semanas, los jueces del caso de fraude civil de Trump en Nueva York y de su proceso penal en Washington han emitido órdenes de silencio limitadas que le prohíben intentar intimidar a testigos y otros participantes en los juicios. (El viernes, Trump fue multado por violar una de esas órdenes). Si Trump las acata —algo que no es seguro—, las directivas no prohíben la gran variedad de amenazas y ataques que Trump ha hecho y da señales de que seguirá haciendo. El discurso actual del expresidente es una amenaza inminente para sus objetivos y quienes los rodean.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.We are confirming your access to this article, this will take just a moment. However, if you are using Reader mode please log in, subscribe, or exit Reader mode since we are unable to verify access in that state.Confirming article access.If you are a subscriber, please More

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    The Blind Ambition of Chris Christie

    Chris Christie’s presidential announcement at a June town hall at Saint Anselm College in New Hampshire may not have had the drama of, say, a “West Wing” episode, but it did help clarify our current political moment and its most intriguing character. For over two hours — you could turn it into a mini-series — Mr. Christie, a former New Jersey governor and federal prosecutor, built a case against Donald Trump. To nominate him for the presidency again, Mr. Christie said, would be a moral and political disaster. “Trump made us smaller,” Mr. Christie told his audience as he prowled the stage, explaining that he wanted to go after Mr. Trump for two reasons: “One, he deserves it. And two, it’s the way to win.”It’s a bold premise, but more sound than it might seem. Almost any pollster will tell you that Mr. Trump’s support is soft once you look beyond the MAGA base. A CNN poll conducted in late August found that 44 percent of Republican or Republican-leaning independents said they were seriously worried that Mr. Trump’s legal issues could impair his ability to win the general election. Mr. Christie is the only candidate speaking directly, specifically to this fear. A separate poll found that almost a third of Republican voters who intend to support Mr. Trump said they might still change their minds based on what happens in the months leading up to the first votes being cast.But in national surveys, Mr. Christie is still polling in the low single digits. Mr. Trump, meanwhile, looks increasingly inevitable as the Republican nominee. Even in New Hampshire, a state where moderate voters hold outsize influence, Mr. Christie is languishing in fourth place, at just 9 percent in the polls. Why isn’t his message resonating?There are the obvious explanations: Mr. Trump has advantages as a former president, and his legal troubles have given him an excuse to present himself as an outsider, persecuted by the powers that be; Mr. Christie, meanwhile, is competing in a crowded field, packed with other candidates desperate for the same voters. But there is something deeper at work here, and it holds clues about what it would take to attack Mr. Trump successfully. Because while Mr. Christie may sound like the perfect Trump nemesis — pugnacious, outspoken, loud — he is a uniquely flawed foil for the former president, compromised in ways that blunt his most effective attacks. And though Mr. Christie’s journey through Republican politics is especially colorful — he is from New Jersey, after all — most of the other candidates are running up against similar problems as they struggle to maneuver through a political landscape forever changed by Mr. Trump.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.We are confirming your access to this article, this will take just a moment. However, if you are using Reader mode please log in, subscribe, or exit Reader mode since we are unable to verify access in that state.Confirming article access.If you are a subscriber, please More

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    Republicans Grapple With Being Speakerless, but Effectively Leaderless, Too

    With a speaker fight in the House, concerns about an aging Senate leader and a 2024 front-runner who has the party in a vise grip, some G.O.P. members worry the turmoil could have long-term effects.Kevin McCarthy, the ousted speaker, was making his way through the Capitol when reporters asked what he thought of the chaos consuming House Republicans, who for nearly three weeks have been trying and failing to replace him.His answer veered into the existential. “We are,” he said on Friday, “in a very bad place right now.”That might be an understatement.In the House, Republicans are casting about for a new leader, mired in an internecine battle marked by screaming, cursing and a fresh flood of candidates. In the Senate, their party is led by Senator Mitch McConnell, who spent weeks arguing that he remained physically and mentally fit enough for the position after freezing midsentence in two public appearances. And on the 2024 campaign trail, the dominant front-runner, Donald J. Trump, faces 91 felony charges across four cases, creating a drumbeat of legal news that often overwhelms any of his party’s political messages.As national Democrats largely stand behind President Biden and his agenda — more united than in years — Republicans are divided, directionless and effectively leaderless.For years, Mr. Trump has domineered Republican politics, with a reach that could end careers, create new political stars and upend the party’s long-held ideology on issues like trade, China and federal spending. He remains the party’s nominal leader, capturing a majority of G.O.P. voters in national polling and holding a double-digit lead in early voting states.And yet his commanding position has turned Republicans into a party of one, demanding absolute loyalty to Mr. Trump and his personal feuds and pet causes, such as his false claims that the 2020 election was stolen. The result is an endless loop of chaos that even some Republicans say once again threatens to define the party’s brand heading into an election in which Republicans — after struggling to meet the basic responsibilities of governing the House of Representatives — will ask voters to also put them in charge of the Senate and the White House.“This looks like a group of 11th graders trying to pick the junior class president, and it will hurt our party long term,” said former Gov. Chris Christie of New Jersey, who is challenging Mr. Trump for the party nomination. “It’s going to be very hard to make the case that the American people should turn over control of the government to Republicans when you can’t even elect a speaker.”In recent months, the former president has focused more on his own legal peril than on his party. Flouting pressure from the Republican National Committee, Mr. Trump has largely opted out of some of the party’s biggest moments. He skipped the first two Republican primary debates for his own events and plans to skip the third, forgoing a chance to present his party’s message to an audience of millions.And he has largely taken a hands-off approach to the fight over the House speakership. Nine months ago, he helped install Mr. McCarthy as speaker. But he did not come to Mr. McCarthy’s rescue this fall when Representative Matt Gaetz led the charge to oust him. He then endorsed Representative Jim Jordan, who has failed to win enough support.Political parties out of power typically lack a strong leader. In 2016, Mr. Trump’s election plunged Democrats into years of ideological battles between a restive liberal wing and a more moderate establishment. But what’s less typical — and perhaps more politically damaging, some Republicans said — is the drawn-out, televised turmoil putting the internal dysfunction on public display.“It’s kind of a captainless pirate ship right now — a Black Pearl with no Jack Sparrow,” said Ralph Reed, a prominent social conservative leader, who argued that the issues would eventually be resolved. “But on the bright side, we will have a speaker at some point.”“These Republicans are complete idiots,” Ann Coulter, the conservative commentator, said on a radio program last week.Mr. McConnell all but threw up his hands in interviews on the Sunday talk shows. “It’s a problem,” he said on “Face the Nation” on CBS. “We’re going to do our job and hope the House can get functional here sometime soon.”And The Wall Street Journal editorial board, long a bastion of establishment Republican thought, wrote more than a week into the drama: “As the current mess in choosing another House Speaker shows, never underestimate the ability of Republicans to commit electoral suicide.”Most frustrating to some Republicans is the fact that the messy battle is largely symbolic. Democrats control the Senate and the White House, meaning that whoever becomes speaker has little chance of making their agenda into law.Still, there could be real-world political implications. As Republicans battled one another, Mr. Biden focused on an actual war. He spent much of last week building support for Israel, with a wartime visit and an Oval Office prime-time appeal for $105 billion in aid to help Israel and Ukraine — funds that face an uncertain future in a House frozen by infighting.It’s a split screen Democrats are more than happy to highlight.“The president of the United States, a Democrat, gave the strongest pro-Israel speech, at least since Harry Truman, maybe in American history,” said Representative Jake Auchincloss, a moderate Democrat from Massachusetts. “The division is on the Republican side of the aisle, where they are so fractured they can’t even elect a leader of their conference.”Mike DuHaime, a veteran Republican strategist who is advising Mr. Christie, said the inability to pick a speaker was a “new low” for Republican governance. “If you don’t have the presidency there is no clear leader of the party,” he said. “That’s natural. What’s unnatural here is that we can’t run our own caucus.”But others say that Mr. Trump, along with social media and conservative media, has turned the very incentive structure of the party upside down. With a broad swath of the conservative base firmly behind the former president, there may be little political cost in causing chaos. The eight Republicans who voted to oust Mr. McCarthy, for example, are likely to face no backlash for plunging the party into disarray. As their message is amplified across conservative media, they’re more likely to see their political stars rise, with a boost in fund-raising and attention.“What’s happening is you have people who don’t want to be led, but also want to engineer a situation where they can be betrayed and use that to rail against leadership,” said Liam Donovan, a Republican strategist and former National Republican Senatorial Committee aide.Some Republicans doubt the incident will have a lasting impact. In the summer, the party will pick a nominee at its national convention, and that person will become Republicans’ new standard-bearer.Nicole McCleskey, a Republican pollster, said the messy dust-up in the House would be forgotten by next November’s elections, washed away as just another moment of broken government amid near-record lows for voters’ trust in Congress.“People are used to Washington dysfunction, and this is just another episode,” she said. “It’s Republicans and Democrats, and they’re all dysfunctional. For voters, it’s just further evidence that Washington can’t address their problems.” More

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    From Bush v. Gore to ‘Stop the Steal’: Kenneth Chesebro’s Long, Strange Trip

    Mr. Chesebro, a buttoned-down Harvard lawyer, evolved from left-leaning jurist to key player in the Trump false electors scandal. What happened?In January 2001, Kenneth Chesebro was a mild-mannered Harvard lawyer toiling for Al Gore during the 2000 presidential election recount battle. Two decades later, on Jan. 6, 2021, he joined the mob outside the Capitol, reborn as a MAGA-hatted kingpin.On Friday, Mr. Chesebro’s journey took another turn, when he pleaded guilty in a criminal racketeering indictment in Fulton County, Ga., and agreed to testify against former President Donald J. Trump and other co-defendants, including Rudolph W. Giuliani and several other top Trump aides.Mr. Chesebro, 62, a workaholic who brought platinum credentials to Mr. Trump’s shambolic legal team, is the third defendant to plead guilty for his role in what prosecutors say was a criminal conspiracy to create fraudulent slates of pro-Trump electors in six states, including Georgia, that Joseph R. Biden Jr. had won.Mr. Chesebro’s trial, which had been scheduled to begin Monday, will no longer go forward. Liberal lawyers from his former life had hoped it would provide clues to an enduring mystery: What happened to “The Cheese?’’“I still don’t see what should have been a warning sign,” Laurence H. Tribe, the Harvard constitutional law scholar who was Mr. Chesebro’s mentor, said in an interview. “Was there anything I could or should have done?”Some former colleagues say Mr. Chesebro’s 180-degree turn came after a lucrative 2014 investment in Bitcoin and a subsequent posh, itinerant lifestyle. Others, like Mr. Tribe, see Mr. Chesebro as a “moral chameleon” and his story an old one about the seduction of power.“He wanted to be close to the action,” said Mr. Tribe, who is among 60 lawyers and scholars who signed an ethics complaint in New York that could result in Mr. Chesebro’s disbarment. At Harvard, Mr. Chesebro assisted Mr. Tribe on many cases, including Bush v. Gore, which Mr. Tribe, as Mr. Gore’s chief legal counsel, argued before the Supreme Court.“I was representing a vice president who might become president,” Mr. Tribe said. Mr. Chesebro, he continued, “saw me as having access to power. When the world turned and Donald Trump became president, I stopped hearing from him.”Laurence H. Tribe was a mentor to Kenneth Chesebro at Harvard Law School. When Mr. Tribe represented former Vice President Al Gore during the 2000 presidential election recount battle, Mr. Chesebro helped him.Stephen Crowley/The New York TimesMr. Chesebro has responded that in his work for Mr. Trump, he was providing him with the zealous legal advocacy that all clients deserve when he proposed a scheme that he acknowledged at the time “could appear treasonous.”“It is the duty of any attorney to leave no stone unturned in examining the legal options that exist in a particular situation,” Mr. Chesebro said in an interview with Talking Points Memo, before he was indicted. Beyond that interview, he has said very little, citing his Fifth Amendment rights against self-incrimination for most of a deposition he gave to the House committee investigating the Jan. 6 attacks.Emails released in the run up to Mr. Chesebro’s trial suggest it was not just the law that drove him. In emails to the other Trump lawyers fighting to overturn the 2020 results, Mr. Chesebro estimated the odds of the Supreme Court stepping in at 1 percent. Still, he added, appealing to the high court has “possible political value.”After his guilty plea on Friday, Mr. Chesebro’s lawyer, Scott R. Grubman, said in an email that “Mr. Chesebro is glad to be able to move on with his life and avoid spending even a minute in jail.” Mr. Grubman noted that Mr. Chesebro had pleaded guilty to one count of conspiracy, rather than the racketeering charge.‘The Cheese’ RisesMr. Chesebro grew up in Wisconsin Rapids, in the heart of the state. His father, Donald Chesebro, was a high school music teacher, clarinetist and local bandleader inducted into the Polka Hall of Fame.Mr. Chesebro graduated from Northwestern University and went on to Harvard Law School, where in a nod to his roots in America’s dairyland classmates dubbed him “The Cheese.” (His name is actually pronounced CHEZ-bro.)His classmates remember him as intelligent and clever among the students who clustered around Mr. Tribe. They describe him as socially awkward — “Hi, it’s um, Ken,” he would say on phone calls — and in trying to ingratiate himself with faculty staff members ended up pestering them by hanging around a little too long at their desks.But he worked hard, pulling all-nighters in writing briefs, especially if one was going to have Mr. Tribe’s name on it.Mr. Chesebro graduated from law school in 1986 and secured a coveted job, clerking in Washington for U.S. District Court Judge Gerhard A. Gesell, who presided over some of the most pivotal political cases of the 1970s and 1980s.Judge Gesell, who died in 1993, ruled against the Nixon administration’s effort to stop The Washington Post and The New York Times from publishing the Pentagon Papers about America’s involvement in Vietnam. He presided over several Watergate trials, ruling that President Richard M. Nixon’s office tape recordings were in the public domain because they had already been played in court, and that Nixon’s firing of Watergate special prosecutor Archibald Cox was illegal.The energetic judge prided himself on moving swiftly through his caseload with the help of a single clerk, who from 1986 to 1987 was Mr. Chesebro.Early one morning the judge entered his chambers to find Mr. Chesebro asleep on a sofa. A former clerk recalled that Mr. Chesebro confessed to him that without telling the judge, he had been living in the courthouse. The judge was generous with his staffers, the former clerk said, and had Mr. Chesebro told him he needed housing, he likely would have helped, the clerk said.Judge Gerhard Gesell, who presided over some of the most pivotal political cases of the 1970s and ’80s, prided himself on moving swiftly through his caseload with the help of a single clerk. From 1986 to 1987, that was Mr. Chesebro.Diana Walker, via Getty ImagesAfter his clerkship Mr. Chesebro did not join the government or a big plaintiffs’ firm, as many Gesell protégés did, but moved back to Cambridge and hung out his own shingle. For the next two decades he did occasional work for Mr. Tribe, writing briefs for his mentor.In 1994 he married Emily Stevens, a physician. Around the same time he began writing appellate briefs for a slew of cases brought by smokers against the major American tobacco companies. He registered to practice in multiple states, and crisscrossed the country.Holly Hostrup, a California lawyer who worked with Mr. Chesebro on appellate briefs defending multibillion-dollar verdicts against Philip Morris, recalled him as a fine lawyer. “He was obviously bright and had good arguments and had good experience and had been hired onto big cases and won big cases,” she said. Ms. Hostrup belongs to a lawyers’ email list and said that Mr. Chesebro had been weighing in on tobacco cases as recently as this year.After Mr. Chesebro’s indictment Ms. Hostrup asked an expert in courtroom psychology to help her understand: “How does a person who worked on all those cases on the plaintiffs’ side become a MAGA Republican?”“To my mind,’’ she said, “it was like turning around and going to work for Philip Morris.”Richard Daynard, a Northeastern University law professor and president of its Public Health Advocacy Institute, devised the legal strategy for suing the tobacco giants. “Ken was a guy with really interesting ideas, and proud of them,” he recalled.“I can see the seduction,” he added, speaking of Mr. Chesebro’s embrace by Trump World. “I’m a Democrat, and if I had some bright ideas Biden’s advisers were taking seriously, that’s a big deal, a kind of opportunity.“But of course I’m not about to throw my body over the tracks by saying this is a wonderful human being and whatever he was doing had to be for good reason.”Sudden Wealth, Severed TiesDuring the 2000 presidential election recount battle in Florida, Mr. Chesebro served on the research team assisting Mr. Tribe and other legal luminaries representing Mr. Gore. After Mr. Gore lost, Mr. Tribe and Mr. Chesebro worked together on a few more big lawsuits, then largely went separate ways.But they stayed in touch. Mr. Chesebro’s 2014 investment in Bitcoin netted him “several million dollars,” he wrote in an email to Mr. Tribe that was quoted in a recent article in Air Mail. His marriage ended, and Mr. Chesebro acquired expensive homes in Boston and Manhattan, and a villa in Puerto Rico.Soon after Mr. Chesebro’s big payday, his name began appearing on legal briefs filed by far-right conservatives, including John Eastman and a former Wisconsin judge, James Troupis. All three were described as co-conspirators in the federal indictment for the 2020 election scheme. He made hefty campaign donations to far-right Republicans, maxing out to Mr. Trump in 2020.Mr. Chesebro’s lawyers, Scott Grubman and Serreen Meki, speaking to journalists after his guilty plea in Atlanta on Friday.Pool photo by Alyssa PointerMr. Troupis appealed to Mr. Chesebro for help several days after the election. According to the Georgia indictment, Mr. Chesebro drafted a flurry of incriminating memos.In emails laying out the false electors plan, Mr. Chesebro misinterpreted Mr. Tribe’s work on Bush v. Gore, repeatedly citing it to support his theories. Mr. Tribe called him out in an article in August titled “Anatomy of a Fraud.” More

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    El delicado tema de la bebida de Giuliani

    Era difícil no ver a Rudolph Giuliani en el Grand Havana Room, el club de puros del Midtown que seguía tratándolo como el rey de Nueva York y que era un imán para simpatizantes y curiosos.En los últimos años, muchos de sus allegados temían que cada vez fuera más difícil no verlo.Durante más de una década la forma de beber de Giuliani había sido un problema, admitieron con tristeza sus amigos. Y, a medida que recuperaba protagonismo durante la presidencia de Donald Trump, cada vez era más complicado ocultarlo.Algunas noches, cuando Giuliani se pasaba de copas, algún colaborador/socio hacía discretamente una seña al resto del club: la mano vacía, inclinada hacia atrás en un gesto de beber y fuera de la vista del exalcalde, por si los demás preferían mantener las distancias. Algunos aliados, al ver a Giuliani bebiendo whisky antes de salir en las entrevistas de Fox News, se escabullían en busca de un televisor, para mirar con tensión sus pobres defensas de Trump.Incluso en lugares menos bulliciosos —la fiesta de presentación de un libro, una cena por el aniversario del 11 de septiembre, una reunión íntima en el propio apartamento de Giuliani— su constante y llamativa embriaguez a menudo asustaba a sus acompañantes.“No es ningún secreto, ni le hago ningún favor si no menciono ese problema, porque lo tiene”, dijo Andrew Stein, expresidente del Concejo Municipal de Nueva York que conoce a Giuliani desde hace décadas. “De hecho, es una de las cosas más tristes que creo que pasan en la política”.Nadie cercano a Giuliani, de 79 años, ha insinuado que su forma de beber pueda excusar o explicar su actual deterioro legal y personal. En agosto fue a Georgia para que le hicieran una ficha policial, no por su comportamiento nocturno ni por sus imprudentes entrevistas por cable, sino por presuntamente hacer mal uso de las leyes que defendía con ahínco cuando era fiscal federal, subvirtiendo así la democracia de un país que antaño lo idolatraba.Sin embargo, según sus amigos, para casi cualquier persona cercana los hábitos de bebida de Giuliani han sido el patrón que ha marcado su caída y no la causa del colapso de su reputación. Esta forma de beber, aseguran, ha sido la evidencia omnipresente de que algo no iba bien con el lugarteniente más incauto del expresidente mucho antes del día de las elecciones de 2020.Ahora, los fiscales en el caso electoral federal contra Trump se enfocan en los hábitos de bebida de Giuliani y muestran interés en saber si el expresidente ignoró lo que sus ayudantes describieron como la embriaguez evidente del exalcalde que en los documentos judiciales es mencionado como “Co-conspirador 1”.Los riesgos legales que comparten han convertido un asunto sobre el que durante mucho tiempo han susurrado antiguos ayudantes del Ayuntamiento, asesores de la Casa Blanca y las altas esferas de la política en una subtrama de investigación en un caso sin precedentes.La oficina de Jack Smith, el fiscal especial, ha interrogado a testigos sobre el consumo de alcohol de Giuliani cuando asesoraba a Trump, incluida la noche de las elecciones, según una persona familiarizada con el tema. Los investigadores de Smith también han preguntado sobre el nivel de conocimiento de Trump sobre el consumo de alcohol de su abogado, mientras trabajaban para anular las elecciones y evitar que Joe Biden fuera certificado como ganador de 2020 casi a cualquier precio. (Un portavoz del fiscal especial declinó hacer comentarios).Giuliani fue uno de los rostros más públicos del esfuerzo de Trump por revertir las elecciones de 2020.Erin Schaff/The New York TimesLas respuestas a esas preguntas podrían complicar cualquier esfuerzo del equipo de Trump para apoyarse en la llamada defensa del consejo del abogado, una estrategia que podría presentarlo como un cliente que solo seguía las indicaciones profesionales de sus abogados. Si esa orientación procedía de alguien que Trump sabía que estaba incapacitado por el alcohol, especialmente cuando muchos otros le dijeron al exmandatario que definitivamente había perdido, su argumento podría debilitarse.En entrevistas y testimonios ante el Congreso, varias personas que se encontraban en la Casa Blanca durante la noche de las elecciones —la noche en la que Giuliani instó a Trump a declarar su victoria, a pesar de los resultados— han dicho que el exalcalde parecía estar borracho, que arrastraba las palabras y olía a alcohol.“El alcalde estaba definitivamente intoxicado”, dijo Jason Miller, uno de los principales asesores de Trump y veterano de la campaña presidencial de Giuliani en 2008, al comité del Congreso que investiga el ataque del 6 de enero en el Capitolio en una declaración a principios del año pasado. “Pero no conozco su nivel de intoxicación cuando habló con el presidente”. (Giuliani negó furiosamente esta versión y condenó en términos despiadados a Miller, que había hablado elogiosamente de él en público).En privado, Trump, que desde hace tiempo se describe como abstemio, ha hablado con sorna de la forma de beber de Giuliani, según una persona familiarizada con sus comentarios. Pero los monólogos de Trump a sus colaboradores pueden revelar una visión del exalcalde que muchos republicanos comparten: atribuye a Giuliani el cambio de la ciudad de Nueva York tras las décadas de 1970 y 1980, de alta criminalidad, y afirma que ha sufrido últimamente sin él al mando. Luego vuelve a lamentarse de la imagen actual de Giuliani.Trump no se detiene en su propio papel en esa trayectoria.En una declaración en la que no se abordaron versiones específicas sobre la bebida de Giuliani o su posible relevancia para los fiscales, Ted Goodman, un asesor político del exalcalde, elogió la carrera de Giuliani y sugirió que estaba siendo difamado porque “tiene el coraje de defender a un hombre inocente” refiriéndose a Trump.“Estoy con el alcalde regularmente desde hace un año, y la idea de que es alcohólico es una mentira absoluta”, dijo Goodman, añadiendo que “se ha puesto de moda en ciertos círculos difamar al alcalde en un esfuerzo de no perder el favor de la llamada ‘alta sociedad’ de Nueva York y del circuito de cócteles de Washington, D. C.”.“El Rudy Giuliani que todos ven hoy”, continuó Goodman, “es el mismo que acabó con la mafia, limpió las calles de Nueva York y consoló a la nación tras el 11-S”.Un portavoz de Trump no respondió a una petición de comentarios.Muchos de los que conocen bien a Giuliani se cuidan de hablar de su vida, y especialmente de su forma de beber, con muchos matices. Dicen que la mayoría de los elementos del actual Giuliani siempre estuvieron ahí, aunque menos visibles.Mucho antes de que el alcohol se convirtiera en un problema, Giuliani tenía inclinación a hacer afirmaciones generalizadas e infundadas de fraude electoral. (“Me robaron las elecciones”, dijo una vez sobre su derrota como alcalde en 1989, aludiendo a supuestas artimañas “en las zonas negras de Brooklyn y en Washington Heights”).Mucho antes de que el alcohol se convirtiera en un problema podía arremeter contra enemigos reales o supuestos. (“Un hombre pequeño en busca de balcón”, dijo en una ocasión Jimmy Breslin, refiriéndose a Giuliani).En las entrevistas con amigos, colaboradores y antiguos ayudantes, el consenso era que, más que transformar por completo a Giuliani, la bebida había acelerado un cambio en su alquimia, al amplificar características que tenía desde hace mucho tiempo como conspiracionismo, credulidad, debilidad por la grandeza.Amante de la ópera —con un sentido operístico de su propia historia—, Giuliani lleva mucho tiempo invitando a sus seguidores, como ha hecho Trump, a procesar sus pruebas personales como propias, arrastrando a las masas a través del tumulto, la tragedia y el divorcio público.Sin embargo, ahora su mundo es pequeño, se estrecha para reflejar sus circunstancias.En agosto, Giuliani ingresó en la cárcel del condado de Fulton, en Atlanta, tras ser acusado en un amplio caso de chantaje contra Trump y sus aliados.  Brynn Anderson/Associated PressSe enfrenta a una acusación de chantaje (entre otras) en Georgia, a un caso de difamación interpuesto por dos trabajadores electorales y a acusaciones de conducta sexual inapropiada por parte de una antigua empleada (él ha dicho que se trató de una relación consentida) y de una antigua ayudante de la Casa Blanca (él ha negado esta versión).Uno de sus abogados ha dicho que Giuliani está “a punto de quebrar”. Otro, Robert Costello, antaño protegido del exalcalde, lo ha demandado por impago de honorarios legales.El círculo de Giuliani se ha reducido debido al alejamiento de sus viejos amigos. Su licencia de abogado fue suspendida en Nueva York. El Grand Havana Room cerró en 2020.La mayoría de los días, Giuliani presenta un programa de radio en Manhattan y se detiene para hacerse selfis en la acera con algún que otro desconocido.La mayoría de las noches, se queda para emitir en directo desde el apartamento que compartió durante mucho tiempo con su tercera exesposa, Judith Giuliani. Recientemente lo ha puesto a la venta.“A Rudy le encanta la ópera”, dijo William Bratton, su primer comisario de policía, a quien Giuliani una vez le regaló una colección de discos de La Bohème. “Pocas óperas tienen un final feliz”.Una derrota aplastante y una preocupación crecienteGiuliani grabando su programa de radio semanal desde su despacho en el Ayuntamiento en mayo de 2000.Ruby Washington/The New York TimesGiuliani siempre fue el tipo de funcionario electo que mantuvo ocupados a los investigadores de la oposición: enredos amorosos, conflictos de personal, un montón de comentarios incendiarios.Pero mientras se preparaba para la vida después del Ayuntamiento —montando una efímera campaña para el Senado en el año 2000 y expresando sus aspiraciones presidenciales— los funcionarios demócratas dijeron que la bebida de Giuliani fue un tema que nunca salió a relucir.Había una razón para eso. Como alcalde, según sus antiguos colaboradores, Giuliani no solía beber en exceso y esperaba que su equipo siguiera su ejemplo.En parte, parece que eso se debía a su inseguridad: criado a las afueras de Manhattan en una familia de medios modestos, Giuliani siempre tuvo cuidado de no perder la cabeza, según un alto funcionario municipal, porque no quería bajar la guardia ante las élites neoyorquinas.Otra consideración era práctica. Giuliani estaba encantado con la naturaleza de la alcaldía a toda hora y se apresuraba a acudir a los escenarios de emergencia para proyectar autoridad y control mucho antes de que le revelara ese instinto al resto del mundo durante los ataques del 11 de septiembre.Nadie duda de que el atentado, y su perfil ascendente, lo reconfiguraron de manera profunda. El 10 de septiembre de 2001, era un caso perdido por su carácter polarizador que lo había llevado a enemistarse con los artistas, además de criticar duramente a los propietarios de hurones y defender a su departamento de policía durante los sonados asesinatos de hombres negros desarmados, incluyendo un episodio en el que Giuliani atacó al fallecido y autorizó la publicación de su expediente de arresto.Pero, a mediados de semana, se había convertido en un emblema mundial de tenaz determinación, llegando a ser considerado el hombre esencial de la ciudad. (Giuliani no tardó en verse a sí mismo de esta manera: a pocas semanas de las elecciones para sucederlo, empezó a presionar a fines de septiembre para aplazar la fecha de entrada en funciones del próximo alcalde y permanecer en el cargo unos meses más. Según George Pataki, exgobernador republicano, le pidió que ampliara su mandato. La idea tuvo pocos adeptos y fue descartada).El prestigio político de Giuliani creció tras los atentados terroristas del 11 de septiembre de 2001. El año pasado, fue criticado por decir que fue “en cierto modo, el mejor día de mi vida”.Robert F. Bukaty/Associated PressLos años siguientes fueron un torbellino de duelo y celebridad —recuerdos desgarradores, negocios lucrativos, un título honorífico de caballero británico—, una tensión que pareciera que Giuliani todavía lucha por superar.El año pasado fue criticado por calificar el 11 de septiembre como “en cierto modo, el mejor día de mi vida”. También da la impresión de que los recuerdos de ese día lo persiguen, sin importar las puertas que le abrió: en 2018, después de una colonoscopia, contó que le informaron que durante el procedimiento estuvo hablando dormido como si estuviera estableciendo un centro de comando en la zona cero cuando cayeron las torres.Se suponía que la gestión de Giuliani en la crisis impulsaría su campaña presidencial, planeada desde hace tiempo, y lo consagraría como el principal candidato republicano en 2008. Pero no fue así.En cambio, los primeros relatos sobre el consumo excesivo de alcohol por parte de Giuliani se remontan a ese período de fracaso electoral. Aunque cualquier fracaso político puede molestar, quienes conocen a Giuliani dicen que esta, su primera derrota en casi dos décadas, fue especialmente devastadora.Cuando su gran apuesta electoral en Florida acabó en una humillación, Giuliani cayó en lo que Judith Giuliani calificó más tarde como una depresión clínica. Se quedó durante semanas en Mar-a-Lago, el club de Trump en Florida. Los dos no eran muy amigos, pero se conocían desde hacía años a través de la política neoyorquina y el sector inmobiliario.Durante su campaña presidencial en 2008, Giuliani apostó fuerte por tener una buena actuación en Florida, pero terminó de tercero, por lo que renunció un día después.Chip Litherland para The New York TimesPor ese entonces, Giuliani bebía en exceso, según declaraciones de Judith Giuliani a Andrew Kirtzman, autor de Giuliani: The Rise and Tragic Fall of America’s Mayor, publicado el año pasado.“Literalmente se caía de borracho”, dijo Kirtzman en una entrevista, señalando que varios incidentes a lo largo de los años, según la esposa de Giuliani, requirieron atención médica. Kirtzman dijo que llegó a considerar la bebida de Giuliani como “parte de la erosión general de su autodisciplina”. (Giuliani ha dicho que pasó un mes “relajándose” en Mar-a-Lago. El abogado de Judith Giuliani expresó su decisión de no ser entrevistada).Algunos de los que se reunieron con Giuliani después de la campaña quedaron impresionados por su evidente falta de atención, por su desesperación por recuperar lo que había perdido.George Arzt, antiguo ayudante del exalcalde Edward Koch, con quien Giuliani se enfrentó a menudo, recordaba haberlo visto deambular en bucle por un restaurante de los Hamptons, como si esperara a que alguien lo parara, mientras el resto de su grupo cenaba en un salón trasero.“Caminaba de un lado a otro como si quisiera que todo el mundo lo viera, más de una vez”, dijo Arzt. “Solo quería que lo reconocieran”.Las personas cercanas a Giuliani se preocuparon especialmente cuando su tercer matrimonio empezó a resquebrajarse, y se inquietaron por el comportamiento que llegó a mostrar incluso en reuniones nominalmente oficiales, como una cena anual para estrechos colaboradores en torno al 11 de septiembre.Giuliani y su esposa de ese entonces, Judith Giuliani, de pie a la derecha, en 2005. Ella ha dicho que el exalcalde cayó en una depresión y bebió mucho tras perder las elecciones de 2008.Bill Cunningham/The New York TimesEn casi cualquier compañía, Giuliani parecía propenso a montar una escena. En mayo de 2016, estropeó una importante cena con los clientes del bufete de abogados al que se había unido recientemente con una serie comentarios islamófobos mientras estaba borracho, según un libro del año pasado de Geoffrey Berman, quien luego se convertiría en el fiscal federal en Manhattan.En la cena del aniversario del 11 de septiembre de ese año, según recuerda un antiguo colaborador, Giuliani parecía que estaba embriagado mientras pronunciaba unas palabras que fueron de un partidismo despiadado, y un tono discordante para los invitados, dado el acontecimiento que se conmemoraba.Al año siguiente, según recuerda una persona que solía asistir a esos eventos, se suspendió la cena tradicional. Semanas antes del aniversario, Giuliani tuvo que ser ingresado en el hospital por una lesión en la pierna.Después de beber demasiado, diría más tarde Judith Giuliani, el exalcalde había sufrido una caída.Imprudencia, agravios y mayor aislamientoGiuliani y Trump en septiembre de 2020. El exalcalde sigue elogiando al expresidente y le ha pedido ayuda económica.Al Drago para The New York TimesA pocos días del final de la presidencia de Trump ―y con el fantasma de un segundo juicio político acechando tras el motín del Capitolio―, Giuliani no fue ambiguo.A falta de aliados y en busca de otro escenario público, el exalcalde no solo quería representar a Trump ante el Senado. “Tengo que ser su abogado”, le dijo Giuliani a un confidente, según una persona con conocimiento directo de la conversación.Para ese entonces, gran parte de la órbita de Trump estaba convencida de que era una mala idea. Los esfuerzos legales de Giuliani desde las elecciones habían fracasado rotundamente. Fue el causante de luchas internas, destacadas por el correo electrónico que un asociado suyo le envió a los funcionarios de la campaña pidiendo que Giuliani recibiera 20.000 dólares diarios por su trabajo (Giuliani ha dicho que desconocía esa petición). También estaba destinado a ser un testigo potencial.La incursión de Giuliani en la política ucraniana ya había contribuido al primer juicio político de Trump. Y, durante años, algunos funcionarios en la Casa Blanca habían visto la indisciplina e imprevisibilidad de Giuliani ―su red de negocios en el extranjero, sus misteriosos compañeros de viaje y, a menudo, su forma de beber― como un importante lastre.Antes de algunas de las participaciones televisivas de Giuliani, se sabía que los aliados del presidente compartían mensajes sobre el estado nocturno del exalcalde mientras bebía en el Trump International Hotel de Washington, donde Giuliani era tan asiduo que se colocó una placa personalizada en su mesa: “Despacho privado de Rudolph W. Giuliani”. (“Se notaba”, dijo un asesor de Trump sobre las noches en que Giuliani salía al aire después de beber).Giuliani ha dicho que no cree haber concedido nunca una entrevista estando borracho. “Me gusta el whisky”, le dijo a NBC New York en 2021. Y añadió: “No soy alcohólico. Soy funcional. Probablemente funciono más eficazmente que el 90 por ciento de la población”.En el Grand Havana de Nueva York, algunas personas se apartaban cuando las conversaciones casi a gritos de Giuliani lo delataban.“La gente pasaba por ahí después de que empezaba a beber mucho y actuaban como si no estuviera”, dijo el reverendo Al Sharpton, un viejo antagonista y compañero en el club de fumadores. (Sharpton dijo que solía hacer una broma: a veces, tanto él como otras personas que se oponían a Trump, animaban juguetonamente a un mesero para que le llevara más licor a Giuliani antes de que participara en Fox).Pero Sharpton atribuyó los problemas del exalcalde a un vicio diferente, como muchos amigos han hecho en privado.Cuando empezó a perseguir a Trump, me dije: “Este tipo es adicto a las cámaras”, recordó Sharpton. Y añadió que Giuliani “tenía que conocer los aspectos negativos de Donald Trump”. En poco tiempo, observó Sharpton, Giuliani “estaba con tipos a los que habría metido en la cárcel cuando era fiscal”.Es posible que Giuliani parezca nostálgico de los días en que tenía tanta influencia, y se muestre dispuesto a saldar viejas cuentas y destruir a nuevos adversarios, mientras insiste en que se le niega lo que le corresponde.El mes pasado, al reflexionar sobre la muerte de su segundo comisionado de policía, Howard Safir, Giuliani se desvió repentinamente durante su transmisión en directo y divagó al estilo de Trump, aprovechando la ocasión para desprestigiar al predecesor de Safir, Bratton, con quien se enemistó.“Quizá el hecho de que Bratton fuera a Elaine’s todas las noches y se emborrachara lo ayudó”, dijo Giuliani. (“Si el programa no fuera tan triste, sería divertidísimo”, dijo Bratton a través de un mensaje de texto).Otras quejas de Giuliani son más actuales. Ha reclamado en repetidas oportunidades porque Fox News ha dejado de invitarlo a sus programas, a pesar de que se esforzó por sacar a la luz los escándalos que rodeaban a Hunter Biden ―y fue vilipendiado por eso― mucho antes de que se convirtieran en un tema importante en los debates republicanos.Una participación televisiva de Giuliani que fue proyectada durante una audiencia celebrada el año pasado por el comité de la Cámara de Representantes que investigaba los disturbios del Capitolio y los acontecimientos que los rodearon.Doug Mills/The New York TimesEn 2021, las autoridades federales registraron el domicilio de Giuliani y confiscaron sus dispositivos en el marco de una investigación que originó titulares vergonzosos pero que, en última instancia, no ocasionaron cargos, lo que exacerbó aún más su sentimiento de persecución.También es posible que parezca herido, porque algunos amigos del pasado se han alejado.“Se siente traicionado por algunos de los amigos que solían ser sus amigos”, dijo John Catsimatidis, el multimillonario político propietario de la emisora local que emite el programa de radio de Giuliani. “¿Te gustaría tener a esos amigos como amigos?”.Aunque Giuliani no parece incluir a Trump en esta categoría ―sigue adulando públicamente a un hombre al que le ha pedido ayuda económica―, su relación ha sufrido algunas tensiones. En su último fin de semana en el cargo, Trump criticó a Giuliani en una reunión privada, según una persona informada al respecto.El mes pasado, el club de Trump en Bedminster, Nueva Jersey, fue el lugar de una recaudación de fondos para la defensa legal de Giuliani.Pero días después, en el aniversario del 11 de septiembre, Trump no dijo una sola palabra en público sobre el neoyorquino más asociado con la tragedia.Giuliani centró sus objeciones en otro punto, al comentar sobre el sitio que se le había asignado entre los dignatarios en la ceremonia. “No nos ponen demasiado cerca a los que tuvimos algo que ver con el 11 de septiembre”, dijo.Al valorar su propio legado esa misma semana en su transmisión en directo, en la que se definió como el alcalde de Nueva York más exitoso de la historia, Giuliani aún parecía consumido por la posición que ocupa ahora en su ciudad.También sonaba resignado.“Esta torcida ciudad demócrata”, dijo, “nunca tendrá una placa para mí”.Olivia Bensimon More

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    How DeSantis’s Hyper-Online 2024 Campaign Strategy Fell Flat

    The G.O.P. contender’s campaign tried to take on Donald Trump’s online army. Now it just wants to end the meme wars.In early May, as Gov. Ron DeSantis of Florida prepared to run for president, about a dozen right-wing social media influencers gathered at his pollster’s home for cocktails and a poolside buffet.The guests all had large followings or successful podcasts and were already fans of the governor. But Mr. DeSantis’s team wanted to turn them into a battalion of on-message surrogates who could tangle with Donald J. Trump and his supporters online.For some, however, the gathering had the opposite effect, according to three attendees who spoke on the condition of anonymity because they did not want to damage their relationships with the governor or other Republican leaders.Mr. DeSantis’s advisers were defensive when asked about campaign strategy, they said, and struggled to come up with talking points beyond the vague notion of “freedom.” Some of the guests at the meeting, which has not previously been reported, left doubtful that the DeSantis camp knew what it was in for.Four months later, those worries seem more than justified. Mr. DeSantis’s hyper-online strategy, once viewed as a potential strength, quickly became a glaring weakness on the presidential trail, with a series of gaffes, unforced errors and blown opportunities, according to former staff members, influencers with ties to the campaign and right-wing commentators.Even after a recent concerted effort to reboot, the campaign has had trouble shaking off a reputation for being thin-skinned and meanspirited online, repeatedly insulting Trump supporters and alienating potential allies. Some of its most visible efforts — including videos employing a Nazi symbol and homoerotic images — have turned off donors and drawn much-needed attention away from the candidate. And, despite positioning itself as a social media-first campaign, it has been unable to halt the cascade of internet memes that belittle and ridicule Mr. DeSantis.These missteps are hardly the only source of trouble for Mr. DeSantis, who is polling in a distant second place. Like the rest of its rivals, the DeSantis campaign has often failed to land meaningful blows on Mr. Trump, who somehow only gains more support when under fire.But as surely as past presidential campaigns — such as Bernie Sanders’s and Mr. Trump’s — have become textbook cases on the power of online buzz, Mr. DeSantis’s bid now highlights a different lesson for future presidential contenders: Losing the virtual race can drag down an in-real-life campaign.“The strategy was to be a newer, better version of the culture warrior,” said Rob Stutzman, a Republican strategist. “But they did it to the exclusion of a lot of the traditional campaign messaging.”The DeSantis campaign disputed that it was hurt by its online strategy, but said it would not “re-litigate old stories.”“Our campaign is firing on all cylinders and solely focused on what lies ahead — taking it to Donald Trump and Joe Biden,” said Andrew Romeo, a campaign spokesman.Pudding FingersThe trouble began immediately. When Mr. DeSantis rolled out his campaign in a live chat on Twitter, the servers crashed, booting hundreds of thousands of people off the feed and drawing widespread ridicule.When his campaign manager at the time, Generra Peck, discussed the fiasco at a meeting the next morning, she claimed the launch was so popular it broke the internet, according to three attendees, former aides who insisted on anonymity for fear of reprisal for discussing internal operations.Each recalled being flabbergasted at the apparent disconnect: Senior staff members seemed convinced that an embarrassing disaster had somehow been a victory.Ms. Peck exercised little oversight of the campaign’s online operations, which were anchored by a team known internally as the “war room,” according to the three former aides. The team consisted of high-energy, young staffers — many just out of college — who spent their days scanning the internet for noteworthy story lines, composing posts and dreaming up memes and videos they hoped would go viral.At the helm was Christina Pushaw, Mr. DeSantis’s rapid response director. Ms. Pushaw has become well known for her extremely online approach to communications, including a scorched-earth strategy when it comes to critics and the press. As the governor’s press secretary, she frequently posted screenshots of queries from mainstream news outlets on the web rather than responding to them and once told followers to “drag” — parlance for a prolonged public shaming — an Associated Press reporter, which got her temporarily banned from Twitter.Christina Pushaw, Mr. DeSantis’s rapid response director, has become known for a scorched-earth strategy when it comes to critics and the press.Marta Lavandier/Associated PressLong before the presidential run was official, Ms. Pushaw and some others on the internet team — often posting under the handle @DeSantisWarRoom — aggressively went after critics, attacking the “legacy media” while promoting the governor’s agenda in Florida.At first, they conspicuously avoided so much as mentioning Mr. Trump, and appeared completely caught off guard when, in March, pro-Trump influencers peppered the internet with posts that amplified a rumor that Mr. DeSantis had once eaten chocolate pudding with his fingers.The governor’s campaign dismissed it as “liberal” gossip, even as supporters of Mr. Trump began chanting “pudding fingers” at campaign stops and a pro-Trump super PAC ran a television ad that used images of a hand scooping up chocolate pudding. Seven months later, #puddingfingers still circulates on social media.The episode looks like little more than childish bullying, but such moments can affect how a candidate is perceived, said Joan Donovan, a researcher at Boston University who studies disinformation and wrote a book on the role of memes in politics.The best — and perhaps only — way to counter that kind of thing is to lean into it with humor, Ms. Donovan said. “This is called meme magic: The irony is the more you try to stomp it out, the more it becomes a problem,” she said.The DeSantis campaign’s muted response signaled open season: Since then, the campaign has failed to snuff out memes mocking the governor for supposedly wiping snot on constituents, having an off-putting laugh and wearing lifts in his cowboy boots.Pink Lightning BoltsAttempts to go on the offensive proved even further off the mark. In June, the war room began creating highly stylized videos stuffed with internet jokes and offensive images that seemed crafted for a very young, very far-right audience.One video included fake images of Mr. Trump hugging and kissing Anthony S. Fauci — a dig at the former president’s pandemic response. Many conservatives were offended, calling the post dishonest and underhanded.“I was 55/45 for Trump/DeSantis,” Tim Pool, whose podcast has three million subscribers across multiple YouTube channels, wrote in response to the video. “Now I’m 0% for DeSantis.”Another video cast Mr. Trump as too supportive of L.G.B.T.Q. rights and mashed up images of transgender people, pictures of Mr. DeSantis with pink lightning bolts shooting out of his eyes and clips from the film “American Psycho.”That was followed by a video that included a symbol associated with Nazis called a Sonnenrad, with Mr. DeSantis’s face superimposed over it.A screenshot from a video posted online by the “DeSantis War Room” account over the summer. The campaign has since toned down its online videos.DeSantis War RoomAlthough many of the videos were first posted on third-party Twitter accounts, they were made in the war room, according to two former aides as well as text messages reviewed by The New York Times. Drafts of the videos were shared in a large group chat on the encrypted messaging service Signal, where other staff members could provide feedback and ideas about where and when to post them online.As public outrage grew over the Sonnenrad video, the anonymous account that posted it — called “Ron DeSantis Fancams” — was deleted. The campaign, which was in the process of laying off more than three dozen employees for financial reasons, took steps to rein in the war room, according to two former aides. And although the video was made collaboratively, a campaign aide who had retweeted it was fired.The online controversy roiled the rest of the campaign. In early August, the aerospace tycoon Robert Bigelow, who had been by far the largest contributor to Never Back Down, the pro-DeSantis super PAC, said he would halt donations, saying “extremism isn’t going to get you elected.” Money from many other key supporters of Mr. DeSantis has also dried up, including from the billionaire hedge fund manager Kenneth Griffin.Terry Sullivan, a Republican political consultant who was Senator Marco Rubio’s presidential campaign manager in 2016, said the bizarre videos amounted to a warning sign for donors that Mr. DeSantis’s campaign was chaotic, undisciplined and chasing fringe voters.“Most high-dollar donors are businesspeople,” Mr. Sullivan said. “Nobody wants to buy a burning house.”‘Counterproductive or Annoying or Both’Videos haven’t been the only problem. The campaign has struggled to build a network of influencers and surrogates that could inject Mr. DeSantis’s message into online conversations and podcasts dominated by supporters of Mr. Trump.Mr. DeSantis had won over many of those voices in his re-election campaign last year. But repeated attempts at courting additional influencers for his presidential campaign — including the poolside dinner in Tallahassee — fell flat.Benny Johnson, a former journalist with nearly two million followers on X, Twitter’s new name, resisted overtures from the DeSantis team, remaining a vocal Trump supporter. Chaya Raichik, whose Libs of TikTok account has 2.6 million followers, was at the Tallahassee dinner, according to two attendees, but has remained neutral.Neither Mr. Johnson nor Ms. Raichik responded to requests for comment. Other influencers said they were repelled by the combative, juvenile tenor of the campaign and unwilling to abandon Mr. Trump, who seemed to be only gaining momentum with each passing week.“It feels like the campaign has been reduced to little more than bickering with the Trump camp,” said Mike Davis, a conservative lawyer with a large social media following. He said the campaign had reached out to him about being a surrogate, but he declined and has since been turned off by its aggressive tactics online.“Its tactics are either counterproductive or annoying or both,” he said.Mike Davis, a conservative lawyer with a large social media following, says he was turned off by the DeSantis campaign’s tactics.Tom Williams/CQ Roll Call, via Getty ImagesThe existing network of DeSantis influencers has presented challenges for the campaign. Online surrogates for Mr. DeSantis have repeatedly parroted, word for word, the talking points emailed to them each day by the campaign, undermining the effort to project an image of widespread — and organic — support.Last month, for example, three different accounts almost simultaneously posted about Mr. Trump getting booed at a college football game in Iowa. Bill Mitchell, a DeSantis supporter with a large following on X, said the identical posts were coincidental.“I talk with all of the team members when necessary but other than the daily emails get no specific direction,” he said. Ending the Meme WarsThe campaign has lately tried to switch course. Under the direction of James Uthmeier, who replaced Ms. Peck as campaign manager in August, the campaign has shifted to a more traditional online strategy.“I should have been born in another generation,” said Mr. Uthmeier, 35, in an interview. “I don’t even really know what meme wars are.”Recently, the campaign has more closely aligned its online messaging with the real-world rhetoric Mr. DeSantis delivers on the stump. It has installed new oversight over its social media team and more closely reviews posts from the DeSantis War Room account, according to a person familiar with the campaign. It also has dialed down the often combative tone set by many of its influencers and staff members and scaled back its production of edgy videos, dumping lightning-bolt eyes for more traditional fare.A video released this week, for example, used clips of television interviews to suggest that Nikki Haley, who has been challenging Mr. DeSantis for second place in Republican polls, had reversed course on whether to allow Palestinian refugees into the United States.“For a while, they struck me as being more interested in winning the daily Twitter fight than in winning the overall political campaign,” said Erick Erickson, an influential conservative radio host. But now, he said, Mr. DeSantis finally seemed to be running for “president of the United States and not the president of Twitter.”Rebecca Davis O’Brien More

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    DeSantis Says He Would Cancel Student Visas of Hamas Sympathizers

    At a G.O.P. candidate showcase in Iowa, Gov. Ron DeSantis of Florida and his rivals repeatedly sought to one-up one another on support for Israel.In a competition of hawkish messages on Israel, Ron DeSantis pledged on Friday night to revoke the student visas of Hamas sympathizers if elected president, while Tim Scott said he would withhold Pell grants from universities that failed to stamp out antisemitism.At an Iowa showcase featuring most of the top Republican presidential contenders, the Florida governor and the South Carolina senator engaged in one-upmanship about who would best support Israel, America’s closest Middle East ally.With their focus on students and academic institutions, they repackaged a traditional line of attack for Republicans: that liberal college campuses foster “woke” extremism, which they said was now taking the form of anti-Israel expressions.“You see students demonstrating in our country in favor of Hamas,” Mr. DeSantis said. “Remember, some of them are foreigners.”Mr. DeSantis then warned that if he became president, “I’m canceling your visa and I’m sending you home.”His remarks, during a tailgate at a construction plant in Iowa City, echoed recent talking points of former President Donald J. Trump, the G.O.P. front-runner, and Senator Marco Rubio of Florida, who sent a letter to Secretary of State Antony J. Blinken this week urging him to rescind the visas of “Hamas sympathizers.”Mr. Trump, who did not attend the event, had issued a similar pledge to expel student sympathizers of Hamas.Tim Scott, a South Carolina senator, said he had sponsored a bill to deny Pell grants to colleges that failed to stamp out antisemitism.Jordan Gale for The New York TimesMr. Scott, who has been polling in the low single digits, said that he had already sponsored a bill — which he would sign if elected president — that would deny Pell grants to colleges and universities that shirk responsibility for condemning support for terrorist groups.By their inaction, he said, they were sending a message that “it’s OK to be anti-Israel.” He continued, “I say no.”At a town hall earlier on Friday in Cedar Rapids, Nikki Haley, a former ambassador to the United Nations under Mr. Trump, delivered a similar warning and accused some colleges and universities of promoting violence.“We have got to start connecting their government funding with how they manage hate,” she said. “Because when you do that, you are threatening someone’s life when you do that. That’s not freedom of speech.”Nikki Haley, a former South Carolina governor and ambassador to the United Nations under Mr. Trump, said Israel should wipe out Hamas.Jordan Gale for The New York TimesMs. Haley, who has been sparring with Mr. DeSantis over the Israel-Hamas conflict as she threatens to eclipse him in some polls, also spoke at the showcase on Friday night. The event was hosted by Representative Mariannette Miller-Meeks, a Republican from a competitive district in Iowa. The state holds its first-in-the-nation presidential caucus in mid-January.At the event, Ms. Haley called for Israel to wipe out Hamas, a militant group backed by Iran.“Stop acting like it’s Sept. 10,” she said.But Vivek Ramaswamy, the biotech entrepreneur, struck a contrast with his G.O.P. rivals, calling for restraint toward an imminent ground invasion by Israel in Gaza. He said that Israel should heed the lessons of the U.S. wars in Afghanistan and Iraq after the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks.“To what end?” he said.Mr. Scott took the opposite view.”I am sick and tired of people saying to Israel, ‘Settle down,’” he said.Jazmine Ulloa More