The Playbook Is in Plain Sight

On political manipulation, institutional complicity, and the consequences of refusing to recognize what is happening.

October 17, 2026

At a No Kings protest I attended earlier this year, I carried a sign that read, "MAGA IS A KULT."

I chose those words deliberately. What concerns me about MAGA is not merely the devotion its supporters demonstrate toward Donald Trump, but the apparent willingness of many to disregard contradictory evidence, rationalize otherwise indefensible conduct, and interpret virtually every challenge to their preferred understanding of reality as an attack. More troubling still is the possibility that the people cultivating this devotion understand precisely how it works, and that some of them now occupy positions from which they can transform their political narratives into government action.

I've spent a considerable amount of time thinking about how we develop our understanding of the world, how our experiences and existing beliefs influence what we recognize as true, and how easily we mistake our interpretation of reality for reality itself. I have also tried to remain conscious of the possibility that my own convictions, however strongly held, are subject to the same limitations. But recognizing those limitations does not require us to disregard evidence, pretend that every explanation is equally credible, or refuse to draw conclusions from observable patterns of behavior.

Two episodes I listened to this week brought that distinction into focus. In The David Pakman Show, Pakman examined Donald Trump's campaign promises, what his administration has actually done, and what those differences should teach us about evaluating Trump's future statements and intentions. In a breaking-news episode from Democracy Docket, voting-rights attorney Marc Elias described an extraordinary escalation by the Department of Justice against election officials in California, less than three weeks before the midterm elections.

The connection between these episodes is considerably more important than their shared criticism of Trump. Pakman is discussing how we should distinguish credible indications of future conduct from political promises designed to attract support. Elias is confronting a developing situation that resembles the strategy he has been warning about for more than a year. One is explaining how we might recognize what is coming. The other is describing what happens when the institutions responsible for enforcing the law begin acting on allegations that have not been adequately substantiated.

When someone tells us what they intend to do

Pakman's discussion begins, in part, with Joe Rogan acknowledging that some of the promises Trump made during the 2024 election have not materialized. Rogan endorsed Trump, helped introduce him to an enormous audience, and is now criticizing the administration's war against Iran and its conduct of immigration enforcement. Among his concerns are the deployment of heavily armed, masked federal agents and the implications of allowing such a force to operate in American communities without readily identifiable personnel.

Pakman's response raises an important distinction. Not every campaign promise should be treated as a credible prediction of future policy, but neither should we dismiss alarming promises simply because we would prefer to believe they are exaggerations.

Consider Trump's recent promise of $5,000 payments to Americans if Republicans retain control of Congress. The proposal sounds appealing, particularly to households struggling with increased living expenses, but the administration has not established the funding, congressional authorization, eligibility requirements, or administrative mechanisms necessary to distribute the money. When Deputy White House Press Secretary Taylor Rogers was asked about the payments, her response offered little assurance that the president would deliver them.

An announcement is not an appropriation. A proposal is not an implemented policy, and a promise is not a check.

Now consider Trump's promises concerning immigration enforcement. He repeatedly described an aggressive deportation program, possessed substantial executive authority to implement it, and appointed officials committed to carrying it out. Whatever one thinks of those policies, the administration's actions should not have come as a surprise. The relevant intentions were expressed publicly, the necessary authority was available, and the people selected to exercise that authority were largely consistent with the stated agenda.

This is the framework Pakman is encouraging us to apply. We should consider what a political leader says, what they have previously done, what they are capable of doing, and whether the institutions necessary to implement their intentions are prepared to cooperate. We should also recognize that statements designed to attract political support may not accurately describe the policies a leader intends or is capable of delivering.

The failure to make these distinctions becomes especially dangerous when the subject is not an unfulfilled economic promise, but the possible use of government authority against political opponents, election officials, or ordinary citizens.

We’ve seen this playbook before

Marc Elias has spent years litigating election cases, including the legal challenges brought by Trump and his allies following the 2020 presidential election. His perspective is particularly valuable because he has participated directly in the proceedings through which political allegations become legal claims, and through which those claims are tested against evidence and applicable law.

Following the 2020 election, Trump and his allies pursued a campaign to overturn the results. They alleged widespread fraud without establishing evidence sufficient to support their claims, pressured state officials, pursued unsuccessful litigation, and attempted to substitute false electoral certificates for legitimate results. That campaign culminated in the January 6 attack on the Capitol as Congress was meeting to certify the election.

Elias understands that an attempt to interfere with an election need not begin after the ballots have been counted. It can begin much earlier, through challenges to voter eligibility, demands for confidential registration data, changes to election procedures, and pressure on the officials responsible for administering the process.

In July 2025, Elias discussed the Justice Department's efforts to acquire state voter records. In January 2026, he explained why those efforts raised concerns about the upcoming midterms. By April, his law firm was fighting the department's demands across dozens of cases. The administration's attempts to compel states to surrender sensitive voter information subsequently suffered repeated defeats in federal courts.

Then came California.

On October 15, the Department of Justice sued California to prevent the counting of mail ballots associated with approximately 20,000 people whom federal agencies believe may be noncitizens. The following day, acting Deputy Attorney General Trent McCotter warned that election officials who knowingly tabulate unlawful ballots could face criminal liability for aiding and abetting a federal offense.

The department's position rests on allegations about voter eligibility that California officials dispute. Secretary of State Shirley Weber and Los Angeles County officials have questioned the reliability and transparency of the federal government's information, while the administration argues that it is attempting to prevent illegal noncitizen voting.

Noncitizens are already prohibited from voting in federal elections. Enforcing that prohibition is a legitimate responsibility of government. But the existence of a law does not establish that someone has violated it, and the government's obligation to prevent unlawful voting does not authorize it to disregard the rights of eligible citizens.

This distinction becomes particularly important when we examine what happened in Nevada.

Federal authorities initially raised concerns about approximately 16,000 potentially ineligible voters. That figure was subsequently reduced to 185 individuals whom federal officials identified as noncitizens. Nevada officials reviewed those names and reported that every one of them belonged to an American citizen, a conclusion federal officials disputed.

Regardless of which account ultimately prevails, the discrepancy demonstrates why government-generated allegations require independent verification. A database match is not necessarily proof of citizenship status. An individual appearing on a list of suspected noncitizens has not thereby been established to be ineligible to vote.

Yet in California, the dispute has escalated beyond questions about voter records to threats of criminal consequences against officials responsible for administering an election.

I find this development especially alarming because it resembles a progression Elias has been describing for years. First come allegations of widespread irregularities. Then come demands for extraordinary intervention, challenges to established election procedures, and pressure on officials to comply with the administration's interpretation of the law. When those efforts fail, the pressure escalates.

I am not suggesting that every aspect of the California dispute is identical to the campaign that followed the 2020 election. But the documented history of that campaign makes the current threats impossible to dismiss as an isolated disagreement over administrative procedures.

Elias is warning that the federal government may be attempting to place election officials in a position where following their understanding of state and federal election law exposes them to the threat of prosecution. The immediate concern is California, but the implications extend to every state whose officials might confront similar demands.

An election official should not be required to accept an unverified federal allegation simply because the government threatens consequences for refusing to do so. The legitimacy of an election depends on lawful administration, accurate records, and the protection of eligible voters, not on whether officials submit to political pressure.

The mechanisms of political influence

Rachel Maddow's podcast Ultra examines a deeply disturbing period of American history in which Nazi Germany's propaganda apparatus worked with sympathetic Americans, including members of Congress, to influence public opinion and undermine American democracy.

Maddow documents how Nazi propaganda was distributed through congressional offices, allowing material intended to advance a foreign government's political interests to acquire the apparent legitimacy of official American government communications. The operation was not simply an effort to persuade ordinary Americans. It exploited the authority of institutions that Americans were already inclined to trust.

I am not claiming that the historical operation Maddow investigated establishes that today's government has been infiltrated by Nazis. I do think it demonstrates a mechanism of political manipulation that deserves renewed examination.

An idea can be introduced through an organization with an ideological agenda, amplified by media outlets, repeated by political figures, and eventually presented as an authoritative government position. At each stage, the perceived credibility of the claim may increase, even if the underlying evidence has not changed.

This concerns me when examining the influence of contemporary far-right movements, including white nationalism and Christian nationalism, on American political institutions.

The Southern Poverty Law Center documented more than 900 emails exchanged between Stephen Miller and Breitbart editors in 2015 and 2016. Its investigation found that Miller repeatedly promoted white nationalist literature, racist immigration narratives, and extremist material while attempting to influence the publication's coverage. These are documented communications, not merely accusations derived from an opponent's characterization of his political views.

Whether one chooses to describe Miller as a white nationalist, a fascist, or something else, the underlying evidence deserves examination independent of the label.

The same principle applies to the broader political movement associated with Trump. I use the term fascism to refer to recognizable authoritarian tendencies, including extreme nationalism, the elevation of individual leaders above democratic institutions, the scapegoating of marginalized groups, and efforts to suppress political opposition. I am not suggesting that every Republican or Trump voter subscribes to those ideas. Nor am I claiming that every participant belongs to some coordinated organization.

I am concerned that we may become so occupied with debating the appropriate terminology that we fail to examine the actual behavior.

Maddow's historical account also raises questions about the forms political influence takes today, particularly when governments and wealthy individuals can exercise extraordinary influence over the systems through which people receive information.

In September 2025, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu met with American social media influencers and discussed the importance of platforms such as TikTok and X to Israel's ability to influence public opinion. He described social media as a weapon in the struggle for political support, emphasized the significance of TikTok's proposed sale, and suggested that Elon Musk was someone Israel should engage.

Those remarks deserve attention, especially given the United States' extraordinary military, diplomatic, and financial support for Israel.

A United Nations independent commission of inquiry concluded in September 2025 that Israeli authorities and security forces had committed genocide against Palestinians in Gaza. Israel rejects that conclusion, but the commission's findings raise serious questions about the conduct of Israeli officials and the responsibilities of governments that continue providing assistance.

American organizations such as AIPAC openly seek to influence political decisions concerning Israel, while the Israeli government separately conducts public diplomacy and information campaigns. These activities are not interchangeable, and the existence of political advocacy does not, by itself, establish unlawful foreign control of American institutions.

Nevertheless, the question of whose interests influence American policy is legitimate. It should be answered through examination of financial relationships, lobbying disclosures, political communications, and actual government decisions rather than speculation about hidden control.

The role of Elon Musk introduces another dimension. Musk owns X, commands an enormous audience, and has repeatedly amplified misleading political claims. A 2026 study published in Nature found that X's algorithmic feed promoted conservative political content relative to a chronological feed and influenced some political attitudes among participants in a field experiment.

That finding does not establish Musk's private intentions or prove that every instance of amplification is deliberate election manipulation. It does demonstrate that the systems governing the distribution of information can affect political understanding.

We should be examining who controls those systems, what incentives guide their operation, and what happens when the distinction between political persuasion and factual reporting becomes increasingly difficult for the public to recognize.

This is not an abstract concern. Political beliefs shape whether citizens trust elections, whether they accept evidence of official misconduct, and whether they recognize the importance of institutions designed to constrain government authority.

When institutions refuse to exercise their authority

Another portion of Pakman's episode concerns the prospect of congressional oversight following the midterm elections.

Steve Bannon and House Speaker Mike Johnson have warned about the possibility of congressional investigations, subpoenas, hearings, and impeachment proceedings if control of the House changes. They characterize the prospect as a political nightmare, describing the disruption that might follow if congressional committees began examining the conduct of Trump administration officials.

But the authority to investigate the executive branch is not an unusual power Congress acquires when the president's political opponents win an election. It is an established component of our constitutional system.

Congress is supposed to serve as an independent branch of government. Its members swear an oath to support and defend the Constitution, not to obey the president, protect their political party, or preserve the reputations of administration officials.

When credible questions arise concerning executive misconduct, Congress has the responsibility to examine them. That responsibility does not disappear because an investigation might be politically inconvenient, expose wrongdoing by members of one's own party, or reveal decisions the administration would prefer remain undisclosed.

An investigation, of course, is not evidence of guilt. I have made precisely that argument in my earlier essay, An Investigation Is Not Evidence. The legitimacy of an investigation depends on its evidentiary basis, lawful procedures, and the fair treatment of those involved.

But refusing to investigate credible allegations is not an expression of fairness. It may instead represent a deliberate failure to exercise the authority entrusted to Congress.

I think we should be more willing to examine the responsibility of legislators who enable executive misconduct through their inaction. A member of Congress need not personally direct an unlawful act to bear political responsibility for knowingly protecting those who committed it. Where evidence establishes active participation in unlawful conduct, legal responsibility may also follow.

A constitutional check that refuses to exercise its authority is no longer functioning as a check.

The House of Representatives was not designed to be an administrative extension of the White House. Yet a legislature that consistently declines to scrutinize the president, excuses his conduct regardless of the evidence, and treats the exercise of oversight as an act of political hostility risks becoming exactly that.

This is why the warnings issued by Bannon and Johnson are so revealing. The possibility that government officials might be required to produce documents, testify under oath, and explain their decisions should not be regarded as an extraordinary threat to the functioning of government.

It is part of how our government is supposed to function.

The consequences beyond our borders

The consequences of inadequate oversight extend far beyond domestic politics.

During the American and Israeli war against Iran, strikes on a primary school in Minab and a sports complex in Lamerd killed large numbers of civilians, including children. In September, a United Nations fact-finding mission concluded that there were reasonable grounds to believe American forces had committed war crimes in those attacks. The mission identified failures in target verification and the use of weapons whose effects were disproportionate to the anticipated military advantage.

These findings raise grave questions about the decisions leading to the attacks, the information available to military commanders, and responsibility throughout the chain of command.

Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth has repeatedly invoked explicitly Christian language in connection with military affairs, defended the historical Crusades, and promoted religious observance within the Pentagon. His framing of the war against Iran has drawn criticism from those concerned about the relationship between military authority and Christian nationalism.

The personal religious convictions of a defense secretary do not establish responsibility for an unlawful attack. Nor does a finding that American forces committed war crimes automatically establish the individual criminal responsibility of everyone in the chain of command.

But those distinctions cannot become excuses for declining to investigate.

When civilians are killed in military operations, particularly when credible international investigators identify possible war crimes, the government has an obligation to establish what happened, why it happened, and who bears responsibility.

The fact that the victims were Iranian does not make their lives less valuable or reduce the obligations imposed by international humanitarian law.

I find it disturbing that the administration can present itself as defending Western civilization and religious virtue while overseeing military operations that have produced such devastating consequences for civilian populations. Whatever moral or religious justification officials offer for their policies, the conduct of government must still be evaluated against evidence, law, and the consequences of its decisions.

Russia, Ukraine, and the meaning of American leadership

The administration's recent decisions concerning Russia and Ukraine raise a different but equally consequential set of questions.

On October 9, Trump announced an agreement involving the sale of Russian diesel to American and global markets. The initial quantity was approximately 300,000 metric tons, with additional shipments proposed for subsequent months. The stated purpose was to alleviate energy shortages and reduce prices at a time when the war against Iran had placed extraordinary pressure on global fuel supplies.

I was struck by how impressive the announced quantity sounded without any explanation of its actual scale.

Three hundred thousand metric tons of diesel represents approximately 2.2 million barrels, or a little more than half a day's worth of total American distillate fuel consumption. Metric tons are a conventional unit in international petroleum trading, so there is nothing inherently suspicious about using them. But without an appropriate comparison, the number tells the average American very little about how much relief the agreement could realistically provide.

It is another example of why we should distinguish an announcement from an outcome.

The arrangement becomes more interesting when we consider Russia's own energy difficulties. Ukrainian attacks on Russian refineries have significantly disrupted domestic gasoline production, producing regional shortages and forcing Russia to increase petroleum imports. Despite those shortages, Russia has retained the capacity to export some diesel, an important distinction because gasoline and diesel are different products with different supply conditions.

I have not found evidence establishing that the diesel involved in Trump's agreement originated in Iran, even though Iran has become an increasingly important prospective supplier for countries affected by disruptions to Russian fuel exports.

The more consequential issue is that additional Russian fuel sales may generate revenue for the government conducting the invasion of Ukraine.

And the administration's decisions did not stop with the diesel arrangement.

On October 16, Trump issued an executive order waiving substantial provisions of the Lindsey O. Graham Sanctioning Russia and Iran Act of 2026, legislation Congress had passed to increase economic pressure on Russia. The president cited the national interest as justification for suspending those new measures.

Existing sanctions were not all eliminated, and the legislation itself authorized presidential waivers under specified conditions. But the decision nonetheless prevented important additional restrictions from taking effect at the very moment Congress had sought to strengthen economic pressure on Moscow.

That raises an obvious question. Why would the United States relax pressure on a government conducting a war of aggression while simultaneously pressuring the country defending itself against that aggression?

The administration argues that the policy serves American economic interests by increasing fuel supplies and reducing prices. That explanation should be assessed against the volume of fuel involved, the actual effect on energy markets, the potential revenue gained by Russia, and the strategic consequences for Ukraine.

There is a further complication.

Ukrainian forces depend heavily on satellite communications systems developed by SpaceX, including the military-oriented Starshield service, to operate drones and support battlefield communications. In October, Ukrainian officials reported that restrictions on these systems disrupted operations and limited communications for drones traveling above certain speeds.

Reuters subsequently reported, citing American and Western officials, that an instruction to restrict Starshield originated inside the White House. The officials did not identify who made the decision, and Trump denied having ordered the restrictions. Musk, meanwhile, stated that Starshield is controlled by the American government and that restrictions on its military use are ultimately determined by American authorities.

The operational consequences were significant enough that Ukrainian officials sought urgent discussions with the United States and SpaceX.

It has not been established how many Ukrainian casualties, if any, resulted directly from the restrictions. But the reported interference with Ukraine's military communications is consequential on its own, particularly during an ongoing war in which satellite-connected drones are essential to offensive and defensive operations.

Taken together, the sanctions waiver, the diesel arrangement, the pressure on Ukraine to stop attacking Russian energy infrastructure, and the restrictions on military communications raise serious questions about the direction of American foreign policy.

I regard these decisions as a betrayal of the commitments the United States has made to Ukraine and to the broader principle that countries should not be permitted to conquer their neighbors through military aggression.

That is my political and moral judgment. It is not an assertion that the constitutional crime of treason has been legally established.

But I do not think the absence of a criminal conviction prevents us from examining whether the president's decisions are materially benefiting an adversarial government at the expense of an American partner.

Russia invaded Ukraine. Ukraine is defending its territory. If American decisions are providing new economic opportunities to Russia while impairing Ukraine's capacity to defend itself, those decisions require considerably more explanation than a promise of lower fuel prices.

The United States has long relied on its relationships with allies and partners, not merely its military and economic strength, to exercise international leadership. That credibility depends in part on whether other countries can trust American commitments and anticipate how the United States will respond when those commitments are tested.

I worry that we are becoming a country whose considerable power is increasingly difficult for even its allies to trust. A country can retain enormous military capabilities while undermining the credibility that makes those capabilities useful as instruments of international stability.

That should concern Americans regardless of their political affiliation.

What history may call this

I do not know what historians will ultimately call the political movement we are living through. MAGA, authoritarian populism, Christian nationalism, fascism, or some combination of these may eventually become part of the language used to explain this period.

I am less interested in settling the terminology than in understanding the behavior.

We have witnessed a president who attempted to overturn an election he lost, continued promoting claims about that election despite the absence of evidence sufficient to establish widespread fraud, and now presides over a Justice Department threatening election officials who dispute the administration's interpretation of voter eligibility.

We have seen documented efforts by influential government officials to promote extremist political narratives, the expanding influence of digital platforms capable of shaping political understanding, and a Congress whose leadership describes the prospect of meaningful executive oversight as something to fear.

We have also seen American foreign-policy decisions that raise serious questions about the government's responsibilities to civilians, its relationships with allies, and its willingness to constrain aggression by other powerful states.

Each of these developments deserves evaluation on its own evidence. Not every event is necessarily connected to every other event, and their occurrence does not establish the existence of a coordinated conspiracy.

But we should not make the opposite mistake of assuming that political developments must be unrelated simply because we cannot establish a common private intention behind them.

Institutions, incentives, ideological commitments, and political alliances can produce mutually reinforcing outcomes without every participant acting under a single set of instructions.

This is one of the lessons I take from Maddow's examination of historical propaganda operations. The ability of an extremist movement to influence a government depends not only on its leaders, but on the institutions willing to accommodate it, the people willing to promote its claims, and the public's ability to recognize manipulation.

It is also why Pakman's framework is useful. We need to examine behavior, authority, and the practical likelihood that stated intentions will be implemented, rather than relying on our preferred interpretation of political rhetoric.

And it is why Elias's warnings deserve serious attention. The processes through which elections are administered can be affected by political pressure long before the public sees an obvious attempt to overturn a result.

There is an additional distinction I think we should preserve. Recognizing the possibility of manipulation does not mean every institution is compromised, every election is illegitimate, or every political outcome is predetermined. Courts have repeatedly rejected the Justice Department's demands for confidential voter data. State election officials have resisted federal pressure. Lawyers and civic organizations continue to challenge government actions through established legal procedures.

Those examples matter because they demonstrate that the institutions intended to constrain executive power can still function when the people responsible for them are willing to exercise their authority.

The danger is not that constitutional protections have ceased to exist. It is that their effectiveness depends on whether people are prepared to defend and enforce them.

I have written before about the responsibility we bear for examining our own assumptions and recognizing the limitations of our understanding. I still believe that responsibility is essential. I reserve the right to change my mind when the evidence warrants it, and I expect the arguments I make to withstand the same scrutiny I apply to the claims of others.

But intellectual humility should never require intellectual paralysis. Recognizing that our judgments can be mistaken does not mean we must suspend judgment indefinitely, particularly when the consequences of government action are immediate and substantial.

We can acknowledge uncertainty about a person's intentions while evaluating what that person has actually done. We can insist on due process without pretending that allegations supported by substantial evidence are indistinguishable from unsupported accusations. We can question whether a policy is lawful without waiting for every possible appeal to conclude before considering its practical consequences.

The question is not whether we can know everything. We cannot.

The question is whether we are willing to recognize what the available evidence establishes, remain conscious of what it does not establish, and demand that public officials answer for their decisions.

Marc Elias is warning about the possible consequences of federal pressure on election officials because he understands the legal mechanisms involved and has witnessed how similar efforts developed in the past. David Pakman is asking us to evaluate political conduct against the evidence rather than the promises made to secure our support.

Both are describing responsibilities that extend beyond any particular political party or election.

We should expect government allegations to be substantiated before they become grounds for depriving people of their rights. We should expect Congress to exercise independent oversight rather than function as a protective extension of the presidency. We should expect military operations to be subject to the laws of war and credible investigations when those laws may have been violated. And we should expect foreign-policy decisions to be evaluated according to their actual consequences, not merely the explanations offered by the officials who made them.

I do not believe democracy can survive on the assumption that its institutions will protect themselves. The laws may establish the authority, but people must be willing to exercise it. Courts must be willing to enforce legal limits. Legislators must be willing to investigate misconduct. Election officials must be willing to administer elections according to law. And citizens must be willing to examine the information they encounter rather than simply accept the version that best reinforces what they already believe.

That responsibility does not belong exclusively to Democrats, Republicans, judges, lawyers, journalists, or any particular political movement. It belongs to everyone who expects to live under a government constrained by law rather than the preferences of whoever happens to control it.

We do not need to predict every consequence of authoritarian behavior to recognize its warning signs. We need to be willing to examine those signs against the evidence, understand the authority through which they may become government action, and hold the people exercising that authority accountable.

The playbook is not necessarily hidden. Sometimes the people exercising power are telling us exactly what they intend to do.

The question is whether we are prepared to take them seriously.