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The observer | wednesday, february 10, 2021 | ndsmcobserver.com
The GOP’s existential crisis Blake Ziegler News with Zig
It’s interesting to see history on the cusp of repeating itself. We saw the rise of our nation’s first two major political parties in the election of 1796, which featured candidates from the Federalist Party and the Democratic-Republican Party, factions that vehemently opposed each other’s platforms. Over time, the Democratic-Republicans became the modern Democratic Party. The Federalists, on the other hand, experienced a dismal decline in the early 1800s until the party was effectively lifeless. Among other factors, a key feature of the Federalists’ demise was their opposition to the War of 1812 and threats of secession in New England. After the war, many Federalists were considered traitors by the country, which contributed greatly to the party’s death. Considering that many of the insurrectionists from the Jan. 6 Capitol riots were Republicans or Trump supporters, one has to wonder if the GOP has a similar fate. The GOP is currently deliberating on the party’s direction in a post-Trump era. Now, the Republican Party suffered heavy losses in the November election, just as I predicted last semester. Despite gaining a net 11 seats, the party still lost the Senate and the White House. Ordinarily, the losing party spends the time after the election figuring out what went wrong. For the Republican Party, this means defining the party’s identity. Since President Trump has left office, Republicans from all corners have been vying for either a GOP devoid of Trumpism or a GOP fueled by Trumpism. For instance, consider some efforts to purge the Republican Party of the former president. Representative Liz Cheney (R-WY), the House Republican Conference Chair, voted to impeach President Trump, joining nine other House Republicans. Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-KY) was pleased about the impeachment, seeing conviction as an opportunity for the Republican Party to move past Trumpism. Other acts of anti-Trumpism among Republicans come from
Senator Mitt Romney (R-UT), Senator Susan Collins (R-ME) and Senator Ben Sasse (R-NE). At the same time, the pro-Trump sentiment is alive and well among Republicans. President Trump still holds 81% approval in the party. Of the House Republicans, 197 voted against impeachment, and the possibility of conviction in the Senate remains narrow. Representatives like Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-GA) and Madison Cawthorn (R-NC) showcase how extremist positions still appeal to parts of the Republican base. The GOP cannot move in both directions. The Republican tent is not large enough to hold Republicans willing to work with President Biden and individuals calling for violence against Democrats and spreading conspiracy theories, as Rep. Greene has done. Republicans have to attract new voters. The coalition of traditional Republicans and white voters without college degrees that won Republicans the 2016 election was not enough last November, despite those numbers growing due to higher turnout. After the Republican Party lost the 2012 presidential election, the growing consensus was that Republicans needed to increase their vote share among minority communities. That strategy was abandoned in 2016 and 2020, but Biden’s victory, in large part due to African-American voters, demonstrates that the current Republican trajectory spells death in the GOP’s future. Sen. McConnell was right when he said conspiracy theories are a “cancer” on the GOP. Conspiracy theories and misinformation alleging the election was stolen (it was not) are not how you grow your voter base. This behavior only invites more bigotry and division. Republicans should rid their party of these characters and bigots by focusing on a broad coalition of communities across America. Appealing to QAnon and fringe groups was a losing strategy in 2020. Rather than doubling down on that front, the GOP should become more inviting and inclusive. Whether that involves revising the party platform, reforming voter outreach efforts or other moves is a future debate. What matters now is the Republican Party rids itself of the conspiracy theorists and hatred within its own ranks.
However, Republicans should not completely ignore the Trump faction. President Trump appealed to 74 million voters because he championed a politics of grievance, connecting with a group of Americans who felt left behind by their society and government. Despite questions on the legitimacy of their feelings of abandonment, moving past the Trumpian episode of the GOP requires understanding why they feel this way. You cannot resolve a problem without diagnosing the issue. Figuring out ways to promote common understanding between Americans in any way is beneficial during times of division. Without that evaluation and necessary precautions, we may not be able to prevent the next insurrection. Now, this issue goes beyond simple partisan concerns and the self-interest of the Republican Party. The conspiracy theorists within the Republican Party have broad implications for our democracy. A major political party in our country championing a platform of conspiracy theories, demonizing the other side and encouraging violence only serves to weaken the sense of civic duty and unity that our nation so desperately needs. In many ways, the coming months detail the future of the GOP and the U.S. Such resolution requires cooperation among all Americans, whether they are Republican, Democrat, or neither. The Republican Party has entered an existential crisis. Will they retire the Trumpian banner or hold it higher than before? The outcome of this decision may spell the end of the GOP, just as the Federalists dug their own grave so long ago. The GOP must resolve this conflict quickly, because at the moment, the Grand Old Party isn’t all that grand. Blake Ziegler is a sophomore at Notre Dame from New Orleans, Louisiana, with double majors in political science and philosophy. He loves anything politics, especially things he doesn’t agree with. For inquiries, he can be reached at bziegler@nd.edu or @NewsWithZig on Twitter if you want to see more of his opinions. The views expressed in this column are those of the authors and not necessarily those of The Observer.
Why pandemic literature provides comfort in times of crisis Elizabeth Prater SparkND
When COVID-19 began, I was in the final semester of my senior year of high school. After my exams were canceled, I found myself, like many others, with more time on my hands. I turned to literature and the arts, as they gave me a refuge from the outside world. However, I noticed something interesting about the kinds of media being consumed. For one, the sources of entertainment that seemed to be gaining popularity were those that contained infectious diseases themselves. “Outbreak” became one of the most streamed films on Netflix at the end of March 2020, and publishers reported booming sales in novels that featured epidemics. In Italy, Camus’ “The Plague” tripled in sales, and Penguin had to reprint different translations in order to meet the rising demand across the globe. At first, I didn’t quite understand this peculiar phenomenon. For me, literature is a form of escapism, in which I can explore other cultures, backgrounds and lives that are distinct from my own. I am a traveler without a passport, unrestrained by limitations, but rather, boundless in the worlds I may enter. To read literature that features pandemics themselves seemed counter-productive. We already are surrounded by doomsday themes in our everyday lives. Why would I want to add to the chaos, to the turmoil that is already ensuing? The influx of readership in dystopian and pandemic literature led me to question why we, as humans, gravitate towards books that depict such harrowing experiences, especially when these stories begin to resemble our own. To answer this question, I began to read
literature that featured plagues, including Boccaccio’s “The Decameron.” Although the work takes place in medieval Italy, I began to realize that despite the time gap between the setting and the current 21st century, the tendencies of the human behavior are eerily analogous to those of today. In “The Decameron,” some of rich enjoy the arts in the comfort of their homes, experimenting with music and other forms of fine arts. The wealthiest of the lot flee to their countryside estates, leaving the middle and lower class to stay in the urban city and work, many of which succumb to the plague. These class disparities existed long before the presence of the Black Death, but these inequities become amplified as resources become scarcer and more unattainable for many groups of people. Sound familiar? Pandemics demonstrate the vulnerabilities in human nature, our fears of not being able to provide for our families, achieve our goals, or even survive. Humanity can become amplified by the heroic efforts of essential workers and altruistic neighbors who shop for their immunocompromised friends. At the same time, goodwill can seem bleak, with fights breaking out in stores when inventory runs low. Although news outlets throw the word “unprecedented” in every other sentence, I am reminded through reading such literature that we are not alone — these same issues have occurred throughout history, both in real life and in the 0fiction. In a strange way, I am comforted by these characters, in that they face similar fears and worries as my own. Literature and the arts as a form of comfort during times of uncertainty is not an unfamiliar concept. “Station Eleven” by Emily St. John Mandel features a flu pandemic which devastates the world. In the aftermath of the disease, the main character joins a group that performs Shakespeare
plays across the remaining settlements. Instead of surrendering to despair and futility in the obstruction of society as they knew it, groups of survivors form solidarity in performing plays for those who still live. While the fine arts are not seen as something being essential to physical existence, after experiencing a year full of quarantine and isolation, it is becoming increasingly prevalent that implementing creativity and intellectual curiosity is necessary for one’s mental health and well-being. Art is an expression of what it means to be human. Consuming or producing art, whether it be literary, visual or any other kind, can help people process difficult events and form conclusions about the world and themselves. It has the ability to heal and provide hope, a form of rehabilitation during a year of much trauma and suffering. While dystopian and pandemic novels do evoke dark themes such as anguish, I believe that this kind of literature also has the ability to portray hope in its rawest form. Hope is not produced in contentment but, rather, when desolation is near. It is during these times of trouble that we hope for a world that is full of literature, books and the arts. In an age where many are silenced, confused and scared, when we find ourselves rooting for the protagonist who is attempting to overcome obstacles, we are truly rooting for ourselves. Elizabeth Prater is a first-year student with double majors in marketing and Program of Liberal Studies. In her free time, she manages her goldendoodle’s Instagram account (@genevieve_the_cute_dog) which has over 23K followers. She can be reached at eprater@nd.edu or @elizabethlianap on Twitter. The views expressed in this column are those of the authors and not necessarily those of The Observer.
