Pretend you’re a
Freedom Caucus, Republican Congresswoman from rural Wyoming, a Tea Party
supporter from way, way back. You’ve been summoned to the White House for a
last minute conference with President Donald Trump. Don the Con hopes to secure
your vote for his repeal-and-replace Obamacare bill, the American Healthcare
Reform Act. Which you’ve so far refused to do.
Your chauffeur, George,
at your request, slows down as he passes the mall alongside Madison Drive. It’s
spring, finally, and the blossoms on the cherry trees cast a soft white glow
despite the overcast skies. The walkways are crowded with families come to view
the foliage, the museums and the monuments. The mood, out here in the real
world, is celebratory.
There’s
no hurry because you need time to think. It seems that you like Paul Ryan, even
pity him a bit – herding cats is no fun – and you’d like to help the Speaker
and the President by voting for their bill. Plus, you’re a pro, not a rookie.
You fully realize that a major defeat this early in a new administration will
cause major pain down the line. But the opposition to this bill, outside of
Washington, is damn near universal.
First thing,
approval ratings for the American Health Care Reform Act start at 20% and go
down from there. Plus, the entire health care industry, except for insurers,
hates the bill, from the American Medical Association to the American
Psychological Association to Nurses United. And, oh yes, might as well throw in
AARP and its 40 million members.
But you’re not really
intimidated by these groups. Your district is 80% Republican and voters won’t
turn away from you because a few elitists - probably from New York or Hollywood
– oppose your reelection. No, your fears pour from the opposite side of the
political equation because, also opposed to the Ryan-Trump bill, are an array
of the most conservative organizations and media outlets in the country.
Like Heritage
Action, FreedomWorks, the Club for Growth, the American Enterprise Institute,
the Tea Party Patriots, Breitbart,
the Federalist, National Review, and Rush Limbaugh.
Most of these
entities have primaried unruly conservatives in the past. That means waking up
some morning to discover that a well-funded candidate has emerged to challenge
you for the Republican nomination in your district. Meanwhile, your own donors,
the contributors you’ve counted on for the past 12 years, won’t even return
your calls. These are the folks who unseated Eric Cantor, then House majority leader,
and Cantor’s boss, John Boehner, Speaker of the House.
“George,” you
call out to your chauffeur, “would you please turn up the air conditioning? It’s
a bit stuffy in here.”
Fifteen minutes
later, along with a dozen other Tea Party conservatives, you’re seated across
from Donald Trump. Though his features betray something close to disdain, his
$5,000 bespoke suit fails to conceal the immense gut and the man-boobs. You
note the daffodil-yellow hair and the orange makeup, which he somehow wears
even though no cameras are present, and you wince. But then Trump calls you by
name and you find yourself staring past the narrowed lids at his dead, gray
eyes. The man’s threatening to call you out before the next election. You mess
with him, he’ll make you pay.
It takes a
moment before you realize that you’re supposed to be afraid, but not of Grover
Norquist and the Koch Brothers and Jim DeMint of the Heritage Foundation and
Rush Limbaugh doing ads for your opponent. No, you’re supposed to be
intimidated by Donald Trump. Only at that point does the fundamental question
arise. How do you keep from laughing in his face?
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