Editor’s note: Douglas Hay is a Republican strategist who served as deputy chief of staff to former House Majority Leader Eric Cantor. Follow him on Twitter DoaiThe views expressed in this commentary are his own. Further comments On CNN.
CNN
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In theory, no one could be more ideologically pure, or more “Trumpian,” than the leader of the House Freedom Caucus, whose members include some of former President Donald Trump’s most ardent followers and who are typically hell-bent on staying in his good graces.
But as Bob Good, chairman of the Freedom Caucus, learned, Trump doesn’t give points, he only takes points away.
Jeremy Freeman
Douglas Hay
Good, one of Trump’s most ardent supporters, faces the possibility of being ousted from his Virginia House seat after Tuesday’s primary. His Republican opponent, John Maguire, had a likely insurmountable advantage: Trump’s support.
Goode endorsed Florida Governor Ron DeSantis over Trump early in the presidential race. It was one simple mistake that could have ended his career. Aside from a brief period of loyalty to DeSantis, he was as loyal a follower as Trump wanted, but that doesn’t matter. With the primary outcome difficult to predict, Goode’s predicament illustrates the caucus’ misguided values since its creation more than a decade ago.
Goode’s primary campaign goes to the heart of what it means to be a conservative in the Trump era — and the seeds of trouble were there from the Freedom Caucus’ early days. In many ways, Goode’s experience mirrors the recent history of House Republicans.
“I‘I didn’t come to Washington to be part of a team.Those words, spoken by Republican Idaho Representative Raul Labrador shortly after taking office in 2011 and recorded by journalist Robert Draper in his book Don’t Ask Me What Good We’re Doing, say a lot about the House Republicans’ shaky recent history.
Though it didn’t yet have an official name, the House Freedom Caucus was in its infancy. Labrador’s words made it clear that for some, it wasn’t enough to be a member of the House Republican Caucus and think through policy and propose legislation. Having power was about having the ability to exert influence, and actual legislative achievement was secondary.
One example came in December 2012, 11 months after the start of the “Tea Party Congress” over the expiration of George W. Bush-era tax cuts. By law, taxes would rise unless Congress acted, and Republicans controlled only the House of Representatives. Democrats held the Senate and the White House.
At the time, I was acting chief of staff to House Majority Leader Eric Cantor, and it was there that I first heard Speaker John Boehner repeatedly remind his colleagues, “You are half of a third of government.” Compromise and reasonable expectations were required to get even a fraction of what we wanted.
Republican leaders proposed what they boldly called “Plan B”: keeping marginal tax rates constant for people making under $1 million a year (which represents the vast majority of Americans) and raising taxes slightly for anyone making more. They reasoned that by acting preemptively, before the law was changed, they could thwart Senate Democrats and President Barack Obama’s White House and score a political and legislative victory.
Most conservatives, especially Grover Norquist of the American Tax Reform Institute, supported the move. But there were some cracks. In what we called the “DMM” (a “daily management meeting” of top executives and a small staff), House Republican Conference Chairman Jeb Hensarling, well aware of the schedule but ignoring the political realities, said, “I can’t vote for it now because it would mean a tax increase. But in early January, I’ll be voting for a tax cut!”
“Oh no,” I thought. “This is terrible.”
In the end, we didn’t have the votes to take politically sensible action consistent with our beliefs. “Plan B” blew up in our faces. Taxes went up. We crippled ourselves. This wouldn’t be the last time that ideological purism would ruin what could have been a feasible, practical solution.
This has happened many times. 2013 was the year Republicans touted “Defund Obamacare,” which was legislatively impossible because President Obama never agreed to defund his signature bill and we didn’t have the clout to reverse it. (Boehner’s “half of a third” adage worked here, too.)
But in this politicized world, where achievements are more important than performance and a demonstrated will to fight, a minority within a majority had the power to bring things to a screeching halt.
Thus was born what is now widely known as the “Meadows Letter,” a letter sent by freshman Congressman Mark Meadows (who would years later become Trump’s staunch White House chief of staff) to Republican leaders urging them to defund Obamacare through any spending bill, including the temporary government-keeping measure known as a continuing resolution.
It didn’t matter that Meadows was asking for the legally impossible: He and his House allies were being goaded by several senators, led by Sen. Ted Cruz.
Cruz had begun meeting with a small group of Republican rebels that would soon become the Freedom Caucus. Eventually, House Republican leadership caved. We decided to let our members “touch the stove” and learn that they might get burned in the process.
Press releases from Senators Cruz, Mike Lee of Utah, and Marco Rubio of Florida praised the House for fighting hard and not giving in, but their statements essentially told their members, “Well done, House, but there’s nothing we can do in the Senate.”
That infuriated House Republicans. Infighting erupted among them. The normally moderate Rep. Cathy McMorris Rodgers of Washington brandished the Meadows letter in front of the staunchly conservative Rep. Louie Gohmert of Texas and shouted, pointing to her GOP senators, “They told you to jump off a cliff and then they left you alone!” A similar scene played out in the back of the House chamber.
But it was an internal conflict within the Republican Party with no legislative purpose. The only priority seemed to be to determine who was the most ideologically pure conservative. The major upheaval also included a 16-day government shutdown. The downward spiral brought about by the party’s divisions continued with Rep. Cantor’s defeat in the primary, followed by the ouster of Mr. Boehner and then the ouster of Paul Ryan, all without any coherent justification.
The lesson I learned from these experiences is that the incentive structure has changed. Being a conservative “star” means appearing on TV, being invited to CPAC, raising funds, and eventually being invited to Mar-a-Lago, which means there is always an incentive to strive for more, no matter how extreme or impossible. For many Freedom Caucus members, it’s not that nothing is ever good enough, but that nothing is ever good enough. And everyone else is a traitor.
There is always a reason to resist, even if or especially if it means repeatedly casting votes on the Speaker and ultimately leading to his removal from office. Since the rise of Donald Trump, the concept of what it means to be a conservative has become blurred. But clinging to Trump is the root cause that led to the splintering of our party.
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Trump is fully endorsing Goode’s challenger, as anyone who has seen McGuire’s “Support Trump” yard sign can attest (having been in the district the past few weeks, I can confirm there are signs everywhere). Rep. Warren Davidson, a member of the Freedom Caucus, has endorsed McGuire over his own caucus chairman. This shouldn’t happen, but it can in Trump’s Republican Party.
On Tuesday’s CNN appearance, Maguire criticized Goode (and much of the Freedom Caucus) for being tactical and results-oriented. It was like a Labrador revolt 13 years ago coming full circle. “He’s never passed a bill, he’s never passed an amendment,” Maguire began. Interestingly, Maguire then used the word “team” seven times in the first two and a half minutes of the interview.
This primary has been dubbed the “MAGA Civil War,” and it could have major ramifications for both the Freedom Caucus and House Republicans. It’s unclear whether the House Freedom Caucus can survive as it remains divided, but there are clearly deep fissures in its base.
