Dwain Northey (Gen X)

Donald Trump took to the airwaves in prime time once again to relitigate the 2020 election. Once again, we’re told there were shadowy forces, foreign interference, mysterious ballots, and somehow China lurking behind the curtain. Once again, we’re told our elections need to be “cleaned up” because the only election that apparently counts as legitimate is the one where Donald Trump hears the words, “You win.”

Here’s the part that has always fascinated me.

In 2016, Barack Obama was president. Democrats were in the White House. The federal government oversaw the election. Trump won. Miraculously, our voting system worked beautifully. Democracy prevailed. The republic was saved.

Fast forward to 2020.

Donald Trump was president. His administration oversaw the election. His Attorney General was Bill Barr. His Department of Homeland Security was responsible for election security. Republican governors, Republican secretaries of state, Republican election officials, and thousands of local volunteers ran elections across the country.

Trump lost.

Suddenly, the entire system was corrupt.

Then comes 2024.

Joe Biden was president. Democrats were back in the White House. The same basic election infrastructure existed. States still ran their own elections. Paper ballots were still counted. Republican officials still certified Republican counties. Trump won.

And just like that…

Election integrity was back!

So let me see if I’ve got the formula right.

If Democrats are in charge and Trump wins, elections are fair.

If Republicans are in charge and Trump loses, elections are rigged.

If Democrats are in charge and Trump wins again, elections are fair again.

At some point you stop examining the voting machines and start examining the consistency of the argument.

The common denominator isn’t who occupied the White House.

It isn’t who controlled the Department of Justice.

It isn’t who was Secretary of Homeland Security.

It isn’t even which party administered the election.

The only variable that seems to matter is whether Donald Trump won.

Of course, there was one major difference in 2020 that conveniently gets ignored.

We were in the middle of a once-in-a-century pandemic.

COVID-19 changed everything. Polling places had to adapt. States—many of them led by Republican governors and legislatures—expanded absentee and mail-in voting so people didn’t have to risk standing shoulder-to-shoulder in long lines during a public health emergency. Military members had been voting by mail for generations. Seniors had been voting by mail for years. Several states had successfully conducted elections primarily by mail long before COVID ever existed.

The difference in 2020 wasn’t that some sinister foreign power suddenly figured out how to infiltrate thousands of county election offices across America.

The difference was participation.

People were home. They were paying attention. Politics wasn’t background noise anymore; it determined whether schools were open, whether businesses survived, whether family members got sick, and whether loved ones lived or died. Millions of Americans who had never bothered to vote before suddenly had both the time and the motivation to do so. Making voting by mail more accessible meant millions of eligible voters who might otherwise have skipped the election actually cast a ballot.

And apparently, according to Donald Trump, that’s the suspicious part.

Think about that for a moment.

The accusation isn’t really that election officials secretly changed enough votes to alter the outcome. The implication is that because more Americans voted, somehow that itself is evidence of fraud. As if higher voter turnout is inherently suspicious.

That’s a strange argument for someone who constantly says he wants every legal vote counted.

More people voting isn’t proof of a stolen election. It’s proof that more people voted.

Yet the narrative became that because there were millions more mail-in ballots—a system expanded largely because of a global pandemic—the only explanation must be foreign interference, mysterious ballot dumps, China, or some elaborate conspiracy.

Or maybe the simpler explanation is the correct one.

A global pandemic fundamentally changed how Americans voted, not who counted the votes.

Believing every victory proves the system is perfect while every defeat proves the system is corrupt isn’t election integrity.

It’s scoreboard integrity.

We’ve spent nearly six years replaying this movie. Court cases. Audits. Recounts. Republican election officials. Conservative judges. Trump’s own administration. None produced evidence of fraud on the scale required to overturn the election.

Yet here we are again, listening to the same script with a few new villains added to the cast.

It’s almost as if the election system has one incredibly complicated feature built into it:

Sometimes your candidate wins.

Sometimes your candidate loses.

That’s how democracy works.

The theory only works if you begin with the conclusion that Donald Trump couldn’t have legitimately lost. Every fact after that has to be bent until it fits the story.

When he wins, the system is secure.

When he loses, the system is broken.

That’s not a principle.

That’s not evidence.

That’s not election integrity.

That’s simply refusing to accept that in a democracy, sometimes the other guy gets more votes.

Dwain Northey (Gen X)

Before we get started, let me point out one of the oldest traditions in American foreign policy: we absolutely love international law… right up until someone suggests it might apply to us.

For decades, American leaders stood at podiums around the world explaining that no nation should be above international law. We helped build a post-World War II order rooted in the simple idea that there are rules civilized nations follow, especially in war. The Geneva Conventions weren’t written as suggestions. They were written because humanity had already seen what happens when governments convince themselves that military necessity excuses everything.

Now comes Marco Rubio, declaring that the International Criminal Court should be dismantled because it has the audacity to investigate Americans.

Really?

So the problem isn’t whether crimes occurred. The problem is that someone dared ask the question?

That’s an interesting definition of justice.

Apparently the ICC was perfectly acceptable when it investigated African dictators, Serbian war criminals, Russian officials, or anyone else America happened to dislike. Then it was proof that the civilized world could hold tyrants accountable.

But the moment the court looks in our direction?

Suddenly it’s a “rogue court.”

Suddenly it’s “unelected judges.”

Suddenly international law has become an outrageous attack on American sovereignty.

That’s not a legal principle. That’s the diplomatic equivalent of yelling, “The referee is fine until he calls a foul on my team.”

Let’s be honest about what the ICC was created to do.

It wasn’t established after the horrors that culminated in the postwar Geneva Conventions so powerful nations could use it as a club against weaker countries. It exists because the world decided that some crimes are so serious—war crimes, crimes against humanity, genocide—that no nation should simply get to investigate itself and declare, “We checked. We found nothing wrong.”

That principle only works if it applies universally.

Otherwise, it’s not justice.

It’s empire.

The current outrage centers on allegations involving Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth and broader decisions surrounding military operations, as well as inflammatory rhetoric from Donald Trump about striking civilian infrastructure in Iran. Whether any individual ultimately bears criminal responsibility is precisely the kind of question courts are supposed to evaluate based on evidence and law—not political loyalty or cable news ratings.

That’s how justice is supposed to work.

Notice that the ICC doesn’t sentence people because politicians dislike them.

It investigates.

It gathers evidence.

It hears arguments.

It follows legal procedures.

You know—the exact process conservatives usually tell everyone else to respect.

Unless, apparently, the defendant has an American passport or lives at Mar-a-Lago.

Then due process suddenly becomes foreign interference.

This exposes an uncomfortable truth.

For years America projected itself as the indispensable defender of the rules-based international order. We lectured other nations about accountability, human rights, and the rule of law.

Those were admirable ideals.

But ideals mean very little if they’re only intended for other people.

If international law only applies to countries too small to object, then it isn’t international law.

It’s selective enforcement.

And selective enforcement breeds cynicism around the globe.

Donald Trump has long operated under a remarkably simple philosophy: laws exist for everyone else. Whether it’s criminal indictments, civil judgments, constitutional limits, or now international law, every institution that questions him suddenly becomes corrupt, weaponized, illegitimate, or part of some vast conspiracy.

The pattern never changes.

If the court agrees with him, it’s brilliant.

If it doesn’t, abolish the court.

If an election goes his way, democracy works.

If it doesn’t, the election was stolen.

If prosecutors investigate him, dismantle the prosecutors.

If international judges investigate potential war crimes, dismantle the international court.

It’s remarkable consistency, if nothing else.

And now Marco Rubio appears to be extending that philosophy onto the world stage.

Imagine the precedent.

China could dismiss international courts.

Russia could dismiss international courts.

Iran could dismiss international courts.

Israel could dismiss international courts.

America could dismiss international courts.

At that point, why even have international law?

Why have the Geneva Conventions?

Why have treaties?

Why pretend that any rules exist at all?

Because once every nation decides that accountability is only for somebody else, the entire framework collapses.

The irony is impossible to ignore.

America helped champion a world where might wasn’t supposed to make right.

Now some of our leaders seem determined to prove that if you’re powerful enough, accountability is optional.

That’s not American exceptionalism.

That’s just exceptional arrogance.

The real test of believing in the rule of law isn’t whether it applies to your enemies.

It’s whether you’re willing to let it apply to yourself.

Because if your first instinct whenever someone investigates you is to destroy the institution doing the investigating, then you never believed in justice.

You only believed in immunity.

Dwain Northey (Gen X)

The passing of Lindsey Graham has barely had time to settle into the history books, and we’ve already been treated to one of American democracy’s more bizarre traditions: “Quick! Find somebody with the same last name!”

Apparently, somewhere in the Constitution—probably written in invisible ink between the Third and Fourth Amendments—is a clause that says, “In the event of a vacancy, locate the nearest available relative.”

Now, to be perfectly clear, this isn’t about Lindsey Graham’s sister as an individual. She may be intelligent, capable, and perfectly qualified. That’s beside the point. The problem is that a functioning republic shouldn’t resemble a family business where the owner retires and everyone simply assumes the cousin gets the keys.

We don’t replace Supreme Court justices by asking if they have a sibling who’s free on Tuesdays.

We don’t replace airline pilots by saying, “Well, his brother has flown coach before.”

We don’t replace surgeons by handing the scalpel to a niece because she attended Thanksgiving dinner.

Yet somehow, when it comes to one of the one hundred most powerful legislative seats in the United States, we’re expected to shrug and say, “Sure, close enough.”

This is one of those political traditions that everyone accepts because it’s always been done, not because anyone ever stopped to ask whether it makes any sense.

Governors appoint temporary senators. States have different rules. Congressional vacancies trigger special elections. It’s a patchwork quilt sewn together over two centuries of political compromise, duct tape, and crossed fingers.

The result is that millions of people can suddenly find themselves represented by someone they never voted for.

Sometimes it’s a longtime political ally.

Sometimes it’s a major donor.

Sometimes it’s a former staffer.

Sometimes it’s someone whose primary qualification appears to be sharing DNA with the previous officeholder.

That’s not representative democracy. That’s political inheritance with extra paperwork.

Imagine applying this logic elsewhere.

“Sadly, your dentist retired.”

“Who’s replacing him?”

“His nephew. Never cleaned a tooth in his life, but he has the same Christmas photos.”

Or your airline announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, your captain unexpectedly became unavailable. Fortunately, we’ve located his sister. She once sat in the cockpit during a family vacation.”

Somehow I suspect everyone would suddenly become enthusiastic supporters of merit-based hiring.

The argument, of course, is continuity. Someone has to fill the seat until voters can decide.

Fair enough.

But surely, in a nation of more than 340 million people, we can devise a system that’s a little more democratic than, “Who’s related to the last guy?”

Perhaps require an expedited special election within a fixed number of weeks. Perhaps create a bipartisan interim appointment process with strict qualifications and a prohibition on immediate incumbency advantages. Perhaps limit interim appointees to serving only until the election, preventing them from using the office as a taxpayer-funded campaign headquarters.

Anything that reminds us that these offices belong to the public—not to political families.

Public office was never intended to be hereditary.

America fought an entire revolution because we weren’t particularly fond of inherited political power.

We dumped a bunch of tea into Boston Harbor over the idea that governments derive their legitimacy from the consent of the governed—not from sharing Thanksgiving recipes with the previous officeholder.

And yet, every so often, our political system quietly whispers, “Well… maybe just this once.”

No.

Whether the appointee is a sibling, spouse, child, longtime confidant, or complete stranger isn’t really the issue.

The issue is that citizens deserve representation chosen by citizens.

Not by coincidence.

Not by genealogy.

Not because someone happened to answer the governor’s phone.

If we’re serious about representative government, then vacancies should be filled in ways that maximize representation—not convenience. Democracy is occasionally messy, expensive, and inconvenient. That’s the price of self-government.

It’s still considerably cheaper than pretending political offices are family heirlooms passed down with the fine china.

Dwain Northey (Gen X)

The Most Dangerous Weapon Most People Never Think About

I spend my workday behind the wheel. Hour after hour, mile after mile, I watch what has become a disturbing social experiment in selfishness. Every day I see people scrolling through their phones while driving two tons of steel at freeway speeds. I watch people weaving through traffic without signaling, tailgating until they’re practically in the back seat of the car ahead of them, blowing through red lights because waiting thirty more seconds is apparently too much to ask.

Then there are the people who seem personally offended by a turn signal.

You put your blinker on to merge, and instead of doing what driving etiquette has required for generations, they speed up to close the gap. It’s as if your signal wasn’t a request to merge but a declaration of war. They would rather risk an accident than allow another human being to get one car length ahead of them.

What happened to us?

Somewhere along the way, driving stopped being a shared responsibility and became a competitive sport where everyone believes they’re the only person on the road who matters.

The irony is that these same people rarely stop to consider what they’re actually controlling. A modern automobile isn’t just transportation. It’s a one- to three-ton machine capable of causing catastrophic damage in a fraction of a second. Most drivers don’t think of it that way, but physics certainly does.

A distracted driver staring at a text message isn’t just being rude. They’re operating a deadly piece of machinery while their attention is somewhere else. The laws of momentum don’t care whether you’re checking Instagram or changing the radio station.

Every time we get behind the wheel, we accept an enormous responsibility toward everyone else on the road.

Which brings me to another claim we’ve been hearing over and over.

ICE and the Department of Justice frequently justify shootings by saying an individual “used their vehicle as a weapon” or “drove toward officers,” creating an immediate threat that required deadly force.

If that were the whole story, it would certainly deserve serious consideration. A vehicle can absolutely be used intentionally as a deadly weapon.

But in several widely circulated incidents, publicly available videos recorded by bystanders appear to show a more complicated picture than the official narrative. In some cases, the vehicle seems to be turning away from officers rather than accelerating toward them. In others, gunfire appears to strike through a passenger-side window, raising questions about whether the vehicle was actually moving toward the officer at the moment shots were fired.

Those videos don’t automatically answer every question. A camera captures only one angle, and investigations should examine all available evidence. But they do make one thing clear: official statements deserve scrutiny rather than automatic acceptance.

That is precisely why transparency matters.

If officers routinely claim they were facing an imminent deadly threat from a vehicle, then body-worn cameras should help establish exactly what happened. They protect officers when their actions are justified, and they protect the public when official accounts don’t match reality.

Instead, many of the officers involved in these encounters are not wearing body cameras.

That absence doesn’t prove wrongdoing. But it does leave the public relying on conflicting narratives instead of objective evidence.

Meanwhile, every day on America’s highways, thousands of distracted and aggressive drivers unknowingly create genuine dangers with their vehicles. They aren’t thinking about using a car as a weapon, but their reckless behavior puts lives at risk nonetheless.

It’s a strange contradiction.

We tolerate astonishingly reckless behavior on our roads every single day, often dismissing it as “just traffic.” Yet in some law enforcement encounters, the mere movement of a steering wheel is later described as an intentional deadly assault—even when publicly available video raises legitimate questions about that characterization.

Whether you’re an ordinary commuter or a federal officer, facts matter.

A vehicle is capable of being a deadly weapon. That reality should make every driver more responsible and every use-of-force investigation more careful—not less.

Because when two tons of steel are involved, assumptions can be just as dangerous as reckless driving.

Dwain Northey (Gen X)

Maybe It’s Time to Stop Calling Ourselves Democratic Socialists and Start Calling Ourselves FDR Democrats

Republicans have spent the better part of a century turning the word socialist into a political boogeyman. Never mind that most of the people using the term couldn’t define socialism if their lives depended on it. To many voters, the word has been conditioned to trigger the same response as “communist,” “Marxist,” or whatever scary label happens to be trending that week.

Politics isn’t just about policy. It’s about language. And Democrats have been losing the language war for decades.

So maybe it’s time to stop arguing over labels that have already been poisoned and start reclaiming one that Americans already respect.

Call ourselves FDR Democrats.

Think about it. Franklin Delano Roosevelt remains one of the most consequential presidents in American history. He inherited an economy in freefall, restored confidence in the banking system, put millions of Americans to work through public projects, created Social Security, strengthened labor rights, and laid the foundation for the American middle class. Whether someone agrees with every New Deal program or not, few can honestly deny that Roosevelt fundamentally reshaped America during one of its darkest moments.

Imagine someone asking, “What’s an FDR Democrat?”

That’s an easy answer.

“We believe government should work for ordinary Americans. We believe workers deserve a fair wage. We believe retirees earned Social Security. We believe infrastructure creates jobs. We believe investing in people makes the country stronger.”

An FDR Democrat also believes in something that has somehow become controversial despite being one of the pillars of America’s most prosperous era: progressive taxation.

That doesn’t mean punishing success. It means recognizing that those who have benefited the most from America’s economy have a greater capacity—and a greater responsibility—to help sustain the country that made that success possible.

During Roosevelt’s presidency and for decades afterward, the wealthiest Americans and the largest corporations paid significantly higher tax rates than they do today. Yet those same decades produced the strongest middle class in our nation’s history, unprecedented economic growth, expanding homeownership, and an explosion of American manufacturing. Asking those at the very top to contribute more did not destroy capitalism. If anything, it strengthened it by giving ordinary Americans the purchasing power to become the engine of the economy.

An FDR Democrat believes that a nurse should not pay a higher effective tax rate than a billionaire whose wealth is largely derived from investments. An FDR Democrat believes multinational corporations that benefit from America’s infrastructure, educated workforce, legal system, and consumer market should help pay to maintain those advantages instead of spending billions finding loopholes to avoid taxes altogether.

It’s a simple principle: those with the broadest shoulders should carry a little more of the load. Not because they’ve done something wrong, but because they’ve done extraordinarily well in a system that all Americans helped build.

Notice something about all of this?

There’s no need to utter the word socialism at all.

Even politicians routinely branded as “socialists” by conservatives often advocate policies that fit comfortably within the New Deal tradition. Bernie Sanders, while an Independent, frequently champions expanding Social Security, strengthening labor protections, and using government to improve economic security—ideas with clear parallels to Roosevelt’s philosophy. New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani has been labeled a democratic socialist, yet many of the policies he advocates—strengthening public services, investing in infrastructure, expanding affordable housing, and using government to improve the lives of working people—fit comfortably within what I would call the FDR Democratic tradition. Former President Joe Biden’s major legislative accomplishments—from rebuilding infrastructure to encouraging domestic manufacturing and investing in clean energy—reflected the same belief that government should help build prosperity from the ground up instead of simply hoping it trickles down from the top.

That sounds far more like Roosevelt than revolutionary socialism.

The same philosophy stretches beyond Franklin Roosevelt himself. Theodore Roosevelt, though a Republican of his era, challenged monopolies, fought corporate abuses, protected consumers, and believed concentrated economic power threatened democracy. Wisconsin Governor “Fighting Bob” La Follette championed progressive reforms that strengthened democracy and curbed corporate influence. Different parties, different eras, but the same underlying belief: government exists to serve the public before serving concentrated wealth.

The point isn’t to recreate the 1930s.

The point is to reclaim the tradition that built America’s strongest middle class.

One of Roosevelt’s greatest strengths was that he wasn’t governing to maximize quarterly earnings reports. He understood that corporations are essential to the economy, but they are not the economy. Workers are. Families are. Consumers are. Small businesses are. A healthy nation requires healthy people, not simply healthy stock prices.

An FDR Democrat believes government exists to serve the people, not merely those with the largest lobbying budgets. It believes elected representatives should listen first to the citizens who sent them to Washington, not the corporations writing campaign checks. It believes prosperity grows from the bottom up and the middle out—not from hoping that enough wealth trickles down from the top.

Some will immediately scream, “That’s socialism!”

Fine.

Then ask them a few simple questions.

Do you support Social Security?

Do you like national parks?

Do you appreciate rural electrification?

Do you drive on publicly funded highways?

Do you expect clean drinking water?

Because none of those things appeared by magic. They came from a government that decided some investments benefit the entire nation and cannot simply be left to the marketplace.

The irony is almost painful. Many of the same people who recoil at the word socialism fiercely defend programs born from the very philosophy they claim to oppose.

Democrats have spent years trying to explain that nuance. Maybe that’s the wrong strategy.

Maybe the better strategy is to remind Americans of a president they already know.

An FDR Democrat isn’t asking government to control every aspect of life. An FDR Democrat believes government should create the conditions where ordinary Americans—not just the wealthiest corporations—have the opportunity to succeed. It believes those who have benefited the most from our economy should contribute a little more to preserve the opportunities that made their success possible. It believes that democracy works best when government answers to voters instead of corporate boardrooms.

That isn’t socialism.

That isn’t class warfare.

It’s citizenship.

Maybe that’s the brand Democrats should embrace.

Not because it’s new.

Because it’s one of the most successful American ideas we’ve ever had.

Dwain Northey (Gen X)

One of the phrases that has completely lost its meaning in American politics is, “We just need to meet in the middle.”

Really?

The middle of what?

Because what Republicans often call “the middle” isn’t halfway between two competing ideas. It’s halfway between where they started and where they want to end up. Somehow, the compromise always seems to involve Democrats giving up half of what they’re trying to protect while Republicans give up half of what they’re trying to dismantle.

That’s not compromise. That’s negotiating the speed of the demolition.

Take Social Security.

The political left isn’t proposing some radical socialist experiment. The solution has been discussed for decades: raise or eliminate the payroll tax cap so higher earners continue paying into the same system that has successfully kept millions of seniors out of poverty for nearly ninety years. Keep it public. Keep the guarantee. Make the math work.

Republicans, meanwhile, routinely float ideas ranging from privatization to raising the retirement age to reducing benefits. Their preferred “reforms” often involve handing retirement savings to Wall Street, private equity firms, investment banks, or financial managers who would happily collect fees while assuming little of the actual risk.

So where exactly is the “middle”?

Half public and half privatized?

Half guaranteed and half subject to the stock market?

That’s like saying the middle ground between owning your house and selling it is letting someone else collect your mortgage payments.

The destination is still the same.

This pattern repeats itself over and over.

Healthcare? The left argues healthcare should remain accessible and affordable. The right says privatize more of it. The “middle” somehow becomes giving private insurers even more influence.

Education? The left wants to strengthen public schools. The right wants vouchers and privatization. The compromise somehow becomes slowly starving public education while expanding private alternatives.

Environmental policy? Scientists say reduce emissions. Republicans say drill more. The “middle” becomes drilling a little less while still ignoring the science.

Notice a pattern?

The compromise always moves in one direction.

Imagine two people standing on opposite sides of a football field. One walks fifty yards toward the center while the other walks five. Then the second person complains that the first refuses to compromise because they won’t walk the remaining forty-five yards.

That’s what today’s “meet in the middle” often sounds like.

Compromise is supposed to mean both sides surrender something while preserving the underlying goal. It isn’t supposed to mean one side abandons its principles while the other simply slows down long enough to call it bipartisanship.

As a Gen Xer, I grew up believing compromise meant nobody got everything they wanted. Today, it too often means one side gets eighty percent of what it wanted and then congratulates itself for being reasonable because it didn’t demand the remaining twenty percent.

If preserving Social Security means raising the income cap so the wealthiest Americans contribute more to the system they’ve benefited from, that’s a policy debate worth having.

If the alternative is turning one of America’s most successful social insurance programs into another revenue stream for financial institutions, don’t tell me the middle is somewhere between guaranteed retirement security and gambling your future on quarterly earnings reports.

That’s not the middle.

That’s just taking a detour on the road to privatization.

Words matter. “Compromise” means both sides move. “Middle” means halfway. When one side keeps dragging the center toward its own position and then declares that wherever it stopped is the new middle, that’s not moderation.

It’s marketing.

And after hearing it for decades, some of us are simply tired of pretending otherwise.