The world will little note, nor long remember, the Katie Zacharia era. Indeed, the tenure of the second White House press secretary of Donald Trump’s second term, which ended after five days and a single, 14-minute press conference, is already receding into memory.
Yet what matters more than her press-secretarial contributions, or the ideas she stood for, is the period Zacharia represents: the Trump administration’s reversion to the hapless chaos of the president’s first term.
Trump’s initial go-round was primarily a farce, setting bumbling aides against challenges such as finding the light switches in the Cabinet room, hurling burgers against the White House wall, and booking the wrong Four Seasons. Trump cycled through personnel like Spinal Tap drummers, as one hired helper after the next left in frustration or shame.
The second term has operated with, if not normality, at least comparative efficiency. Chief of Staff Susie Wiles turned the executive branch from an exploding fireworks factory into a machine relentlessly processing the president’s whims into law.
Yet as the midterm elections draw near, the machine has begun to sputter. In the span of days, Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth announced he would livestream a public execution, only for Trump to overrule him; the administration fired Kimberly Guilfoyle, its ambassador to Greece, for engaging in corruption so overt, it embarrassed even the most corrupt administration in history; and Politico reported that Trump is asking his friends what they think of Wiles, which is historically the prelude to his turning on an underling.
In the midst of this multicar pileup, Zacharia briefly stepped forward as the administration’s stammering face.
If you have ever felt awkward in a public setting, her single press conference was the stuff of recurrent nightmares. Zacharia read from the podium, head down, in the tone of a third-grade book report delivered verbally in front of the entire school by a child with crippling anxiety. She had to pause multiple times to take gulps of air. Trump, she said in one typical segment, “had a historic one-day war, and now we are, have a booming economy, and a great relationship”—here she stopped to catch herself—“with Venezuela. The U.S. achieved record domestic oil and gas production in 2025 and record crude and petroleum product exports in 2026.”
At another point, attempting to discuss nuclear-power plants, she called them “something President Trump is delivering on, just like he delivers on every promise.” (Pause, gasp for breath.) “In addition to that, it, we will be, it, we will be, there is $54 billion tied to the Alaska LNG pipeline.”
Then she told the assembled reporters, “My goal is to be able to communicate that in complete tandem with the president, as he is his own best spokesperson, and will absolutely be leading the way as—with that.” It was as if the notion that Trump could do her job much better than she could had intruded into her thoughts and made its way out of her mouth. She wrapped up the press conference after answering only three questions.
Shortly after, she appeared with the president on the White House lawn, and when a reporter asked which state’s bar exam she had passed—Zacharia has described herself as an attorney—she replied, mysteriously, “When I moved to China.”
Matters fell apart quickly. She appeared on Sean Hannity’s show, perhaps expecting the tender treatment for which Hannity is so synonymous that his last name has become a portmanteau, hannitize, for friendly damage control. Instead he subjected her to an interrogation for which she was predictably unprepared. Indeed, her defense consisted of describing herself as unprepared. “What I feel is I really stepped up to the plate with very little prep time. Given the fact that I’d been on the job less than maybe eight hours and had a briefing book in the morning, I feel like I did my very best, Sean, to deliver for the American people that day.”
Sometimes, your best just isn’t good enough. So it was with Zacharia. So it is with the whole administration—mired in a losing war and persistent inflation, and flailing about for people to blame for the debacle. People who aren’t Donald Trump.
A large majority of the Republican Party, including many officials who initially viewed Donald Trump with deep skepticism, decided early in Trump’s first term that the investigations into Russian interference in the 2016 election were the hysterical product of Trump Derangement Syndrome in the Deep State and the media. There was no mystery to solve, no scandal to uncover, in Trump’s affinity for Vladimir Putin. And yet this strange alliance continues to bedevil American foreign policy.
On Friday afternoon, Trump announced that he had held another call with Putin, and came away once again depicting the Russian dictator as a cherished friend to whom he owes a great deal. “I have just concluded a highly successful discussion with President Vladimir Putin, of Russia, wherein it was agreed that Russia will immediately supply over 300,000 Tons of Diesel Fuel to the American and Global Marketplace, another 500,000 Tons during the month of November, and 1,000,000 Tons immediately thereafter,” he wrote on Truth Social.
Later that day, Trump reemphasized his debt of gratitude. “I want to thank President Putin, to be honest with you. We have massive amounts of oil coming into our country, and it’s diesel, which is what we want. So, thank you,” he told reporters outside the White House.
Many of Trump’s comments make little sense, and these were no exception. But he was using a particular kind of illogic that conflicts with his standard brand of nonsense. Trump typically depicts international trade in starkly mercantilist terms. Exports, in his mind, are a form of profit, and imports are a loss. Trump sees trade deficits as a form of theft, and conceives of a “good deal” as one in which the United States reduces its imports or increases its exports. This holds true of all goods, including oil. “We don’t need their fuel, we don’t need their energy, we don’t need their oil and gas. We don’t need anything that they have,” Trump said dismissively of Canada last year.
Yet when it comes to imports from Russia, Trump inverts his standard accounting methods. He presents Russian oil as a kind of gift, something Putin plans to “supply.” (A more accurate verb to describe this transaction would be sell.)
In reality, diesel fuel exists in a global market, and adding a small amount of Russian diesel into this enormous international supply would have a barely detectable effect upon its price. A more important effect would be on the Russian economy. Economic sanctions have hampered its ability to attract foreign currency, and the Trump-Putin plan would suspend sanctions on Russian diesel exports. Doing so would in fact appear to violate American law, which prohibits importing oil from Russia unless it makes peace with Ukraine, though illegality does not usually deter Trump.
The most immediate outcome of this plan has been to present Ukraine as the cause of economic turmoil and Russia as the innocent victim of Ukrainian warmongering. Trump almost immediately began to praise Putin and assail the Russian dictator’s adversary. Volodymyr Zelensky “could have settled this war many times—many, many times—and he chooses not to,” Trump told reporters on Friday outside the White House. “He wants to make problems for the world. He wants to make problems for our farmers, our ranchers, with diesel fuel, because Russia supplies a large portion of the diesel fuel throughout the world.” Trump’s solution? “I suggest they get a new leader who can make a deal. Because they could have made many deals, and for some reason, he never does.”
There is no universally agreed-upon explanation for why Trump has remained so consistently faithful to Putin. One theory holds that Putin masterfully strokes Trump’s ego. Although Trump does respond to flattery, the flaw in this hypothesis is that other leaders have tried, and often failed, to mimic this formula. Europeans have met Trump’s second term with obsequious displays and gifts. Ukraine floated a proposal to rename the Donbas region “Donnyland.” Poland proposed christening a base “Fort Trump.” Yet these countries have remained largely frustrated.
A second theory holds that Trump simply admires dictators. This one contains a bit more truth, as seen by Trump’s swooning over Xi Jinping and even Kim Jong Un. But the dictators running Iran and Venezuela have hardly managed to duplicate the Trump-Putin partnership.
A third theory depicts Trump as merely amoral, driven by transactions and indifferent to moral concerns. Yet he has continued to defer to Putin even as the Russian dictator has undermined Trump’s own standing by aiding Iran in its war with the United States. Meanwhile, Zelensky’s assistance against Iran seems to have bought him no goodwill whatsoever. Trump’s view of the war is moralistic—he simply blames the victim rather than the aggressor. “You don’t start a war against someone 20 times your size and then hope that people give you some missiles,” he said last year of Zelensky.
Explaining the depth of Trump’s identification with Putin may require looking at a possibility that conservatives have been dismissing out of hand for a decade: manipulation and corruption.
During the 2016 campaign, Russia dangled a lucrative deal to develop Trump-branded properties in Russia that would deliver hundreds of millions of dollars in profit with no risk. More recently, The New York Times reported that Trump advisers and Russian officials have floated deals that would enrich Trump’s inner circle as part of ending the war.
Russia has tried to bribe foreign officials, especially by handing out pieces of its resource wealth, in numerous countries. It would be strange if Putin didn’t try to replicate this tried-and-true method in the United States.
Perhaps the best evidence against corruption is that Trump now has access to so many other sources of wealth that he hardly needs any financial incentive to tilt toward Russia. Yet Putin seems able to bring the American president around to his way of thinking, if not effortlessly (their most recent phone call reportedly consumed an hour and a half) then at least reliably.
There is obviously no investigation at the moment into Putin’s efforts to influence American foreign policy. Instead, incredibly, we have an investigation into the Russia investigation. The Trump administration is working to gin up criminal charges against former CIA Director John Brennan, former FBI Director James Comey, and other American officials whose crime was to explore whether something fishy was going on between the Trump campaign and Moscow.
My colleagues Jonathan Lemire and Simon Shusterreport, “Some of Trump’s closest advisers have privately wondered what Putin has done to so thoroughly enthrall the president.” Perhaps instead of dismissing the people who were trying to shed light on this mystery and then attempting to throw them into prison, these advisers should be taking their concerns seriously.
About a year and a half ago, Hasan Piker, the left-wing activist and streamer, was hailed as the Democratic Party’s Joe Rogan—an influencer who can reach young men. A wave of gushy profiles paid more attention to Piker’s physique than to his habit of making impolitic comments. The New York Times’ entry in the genre was titled “A Progressive Mind in a Body Made for the ‘Manosphere.’”
Piker has since been welcomed, with notable holdouts, into the Democratic Party coalition. He has appeared with multiple Democrats on the stump, and has boasted that several others privately seek his counsel. Vanity Fair named Piker one of the 50 most influential people in America. He sees his influence as extending even to candidates who have not aligned with him publicly, pledging to pressure James Talarico to side with the left should Talarico win his Senate race in Texas. (“We have to remind him that we are the force that backed him both early on, and we are the force that allowed him to win this seat of power, and if he wants to maintain it, he’s got to play ball.”)
The predominant Democratic Party view of Piker was perhaps expressed by the Pod Save America host Jon Lovett, who told him last month on the liberal podcast, “My view is: I am part of a pro-democracy coalition in the fight against fascism, and it includes everyone from former Republicans like Nicolle Wallace and Tim Miller and Sarah Longwell, it includes establishment politicians, it includes Neera Tanden, it includes Shannon Watts, it includes AOC and Bernie, and it includes voices on the left like you.”
Piker’s stratospheric ascent—he now earns seven figures from his Twitch stream—and grandiose ambitions have made him the target of recriminations from a handful of suspicious Democratic Party moderates, as well as a recurrent villain for Fox News, which has attempted to turn him into the party’s face. Those critics have tended to recirculate a handful of Piker’s most outrageous statements, some of which—saying America deserved 9/11, and calling Orthodox Jews “inbred”—he has retracted and apologized for. Piker has complained that the mainstream media cover him but rarely deign to speak with him. Seeing that as a reasonable grievance, when he invited me on his show, I invited him to instead do an interview with The Atlantic. He accepted, before postponing the interview and then ultimately canceling it.
As I prepared for the interview by researching his commentary, I realized that Piker is right to complain that the handful of frequently repeated controversial statements fail to accurately represent his worldview. In fact, it’s much worse than those quotes suggest.
The most important problem with inviting Piker to join the pro-democracy coalition is that, by any reasonable definition of the term, he does not believe in democracy.
Piker declared at a debate this year, “I say we put the power back in the hands of the many rather than the power in the hands of the few. If a dictatorship is inevitable, I’d rather have it be a dictatorship of the proletariat than one that is designed around the needs of the bourgeois class.” On his Twitch stream he has said: “I love Lenin. I love Fidel Castro. And I love Che Guevara. They are genuinely fucking heroes.”
When asked to cite an example of socialism that he admires, Piker replied, “China is probably the closest,” while conceding that “there are still plenty of failures within the Chinese system.” Although he cites China’s economic model, rather than its single-party Communist regime, as the source of his admiration, other countries have exhibited the same rapid industrialization without attracting Piker’s fawning praise.
He has dismissed Mao’s campaign of mass terror as mere mistakes. “Do I believe that it was intentional? No, I don’t believe that it was intentional.” In fact, as the Brookings scholar Kenneth Lieberthal, who has taught a course on China under communism at the University of Michigan, told me, “Mao never shied away from violence among Chinese civilians to achieve his goals, and he never expressed regret for any deaths that occurred as a result of his initiatives.”
Piker has extensively praised economic development in North Korea, a country that he has acknowledged engages in repression, while maintaining that “it’s certainly not as bad as the way that Western media presents it.” In one segment marveling at economic development in the Stalinist kingdom, where even the slightest acts of dissent are met with confinement and torture, he said, “It is fucking mind-boggling to me that a country so fucking poor and so distraught, a country that withstood a fucking genocide, could get to this level, dude. Like, how does this not make you mad as an American citizen? How does this not fucking piss you off, where you look at this shit and you’re like, if they can do it, why the fuck can’t we?” Piker concluded by saying that North Korea’s achievement “shows you that a better future is possible for all of us.”
Piker does acknowledge shortcomings in the Communist regimes he defends, but treats their millions of victims as the tragic cost of progress. This contrasts with his treatment of anti-communists, which is marked by unsparing contempt. He has proclaimed his hatred for NATO on the grounds that it opposed communism: “Of course I am anti-NATO. NATO is designed with the explicit intent of being an anti-Communist institution.”
In one especially revealing episode, he attacked a refugee from Vietnam. Piker’s stream typically includes snippets of videos that he and his audience watch together, interspersed with his own commentary. As the video showed the refugee saying “We have endured suffering under the Communist regime,” he threw back his head in disbelief and began to rant: “Okay, fuck you, dude. I mean seriously, fuck you, old lady. Shut the fuck up, you stupid fucking idiotic old lady with your stupid fucking gamer headest. Who has fucked you harder, America or fuckin’ Ho Chi Minh? Suck my dick, old lady. Goddamn, dude. Fuck this refugee.”
Alongside his pro-Marxist-Leninist principles, the second pillar of Piker’s worldview is anti-Zionism. This does not distinguish him from other progressives. What does distinguish him is his belief that American Jews who do not share his position deserve punishment.
“In a totally just world, regardless of your background, any kind of fucking Zionist tendency should be treated in the same way as being a fucking rabid neo-Nazi,” he has said. Piker attracted attention when he recently predicted, “If Jews in America keep putting this idea out there that they are singularly invested in Israel, eventually someone is going to come around and take action—not against the state of Israel, mind you, but against American Jews.”
The two statements in combination have dire implications for American Jews. A recent poll found that, while about two-thirds of American Jews oppose the current Israeli-government policy toward the West Bank and Gaza, more than 70 percent describe themselves as very or somewhat emotionally attached to Israel. Piker’s argument that “any kind of fucking Zionist tendency”—which includes the many Zionists who strongly criticize Israeli policy—should be treated as akin to Nazism, and that American Jewish affinity with the Jewish state invites anti-Semitism, would justify subjecting Jewish Americans to ostracism and abuse.
Piker’s second and more recent comment drew predictable condemnation from several leading Democrats. Piker has depicted this response as puppetry orchestrated by the Israel lobby.
“Aipac boss call was made,” he wrote on X. When Neera Tanden, the president of the liberal Center for American Progress, said that Piker was not helping the Democratic Senate candidate Abdul El-Sayed to win his campaign in Michigan, Piker replied, “You should probably stop highlighting and ‘legitimizing’ reactionary framing and republican attacks against abdul from a ‘nominally liberal’ perspective but i guess your donors w financial ties to tel aviv don’t want you to stop.” The notion that any opposition to his ideas must be evidence of hidden control, exercised by wealthy Jews, is a classic anti-Semitic trope.
Some of these comments have largely been taken as confirmation that Piker is essentially a shock jock. His defenders see these rude remarks as the unavoidable cost of having a popular media personality to amplify the Democrats’ message. “Some segments of the Democratic coalition would find Piker to be edgy, or crass, or even despicable. But, if ‘Rogan of the left’ is to mean anything, it would surely mean a higher tolerance for controversy, even at the risk of alienating parts of the base,” a New Yorkerprofile concluded in March 2025.
But unlike Rogan, who is foremost an entertainer and who lacks grounding in any serious ideology, Piker sees his work as advancing a long-term political project.
He tends to analyze his work most openly when he gives interviews about his Twitch stream, rather than on the program itself. When he is speaking to his audience, he falls into a frat-boy patois laden with generous helpings of profanity. When he is speaking about his show, he employs more sophisticated language and concepts.
“I am, at the end of the day, someone who is engaging in—and this is a Marxist term that a lot of people get mad at, because they don’t understand that propaganda is supposed to be a neutral term in its inception—but this is agitative propaganda,” Piker told Vox last month. Agitative propaganda—or, as it is more commonly known, agitprop—is a term derived from the department of agitation and propaganda, which the Soviets created in the 1920s to instill communist thinking in workers and peasants. The method is not generally known for its faithful adherence to truth and accuracy.
Piker describes his role as the spearhead of a long-term persuasion campaign to build power through gradual means. “I want to, through a system of, at first, modest social democratic reforms, basically claw back autonomy for the everyday person and hopefully give them more of a voice in their workplace and in the political process as well, and slowly but surely, yield more egalitarian outcomes,” he told Ross Douthat a year ago.
Piker frequently derides liberalism as a failed ideology. In an interview this past spring with Trevor Noah, he explained that voters who think they’re liberal are actually suffering from false consciousness.
“They self-identify as liberals because they don’t really understand what that means. If you were to pick apart their worldview and offer them a little bit of political education, you might find that they’re actually not liberals at all. Maybe they’re socialists, maybe they’re Marxists, maybe they have a different ideological tendency than liberalism, which is basically just the monoculture that we’ve taken for granted,” he said.
He considers the Democratic Party essentially a hollow shell, its governing ideology a kind of mindless vestige to which its voters have no authentic attachment, one that he and his allies can easily replace. This strategy requires Piker and his allies to gain a foothold within the party in order to ultimately capture it. He actively campaigned for several left-wing Democrats, especially El-Sayed. “During the 10 days I spent in the Midwest ahead of the primary vote, Piker was everywhere,” my colleague Helen Lewis reported.
When El-Sayed’s Republican opponent began to tie him to some of Piker’s more infamous remarks, Piker responded pragmatically to contain the damage. He apologized for having said that America deserved 9/11, claiming that the remark was taken out of context. He dismissed comments about hating the United States: “It’s laughable to say guys like myself, guys like Abdul El-Sayed, we hate America.” (In fact, Piker has expressed this precise sentiment, or iterations of it, many, many times.)
El-Sayed responded by acting as though Piker were simply a media figure to whom he had given an interview, rather than his campaign wingman. He described Piker as “a streamer in California,” and said he would have “a conversation” with any media figure with whom he disagrees, as if campaigning with someone were just like talking on Fox News.
Piker has cooperated with this message. He has repeatedly referred to himself as “a Twitch streamer,” mocking his critics for being so small-minded as to pay any attention to his beliefs. Republicans “centering their midterm strategy around a twitch streamer no one knows was extra dumb,” he wrote on X. His go-to line in response to any important piece of news has been to mock Democrats for complaining about his influence. In response to a story about deaths in the Iran war, he posted, “will the democrats demand accountability and transparency on this issue, or will they continue crying about a twitch streamer?”
The notable thing about this rhetorical pivot is that it requires Piker to belittle himself as irrelevant and unworthy of attention. That depiction hardly comports with the seriousness with which he has previously described his influence, but it does show a level of message discipline and commitment to the cause. CNN reported last week that El-Sayed had recently spoken with Piker and “warned his rhetoric was costing El-Sayed votes, asking him to stop.”
Do not expect Piker’s reticence to continue after Election Day. There is little reason to trust his current self-presentation as a mere Twitch streamer who is too obscure to merit discussion. He sees himself as a representative voice of a movement that can take control of a major party, and then the country itself.
Describing the Democratic Party to Noah, Piker said: “That’s a weak party. That’s a party that you can seize. That’s a party that you can take advantage of.” Many earnest liberals see Piker as a handy megaphone who can convey their message to an elusive constituency. Piker, however, is not so much joining the team as sizing it up as prey.
Christopher Rufo, the conservative activist best known for his opposition to critical race theory, has portrayed his career as one devoted to upholding meritocracy. “The principle, first promised by the Declaration and supported today by a large majority of Americans, would mean that the state would treat all Americans equally, regardless of ancestry, and leave as much discretion as possible to individuals to determine their own futures, without the government imposing or requiring racial favoritism of any kind,” Rufo wrote two years ago in City Journal, a magazine published by the Manhattan Institute, where he is a senior fellow. “Rather than pit ourselves against one another, we should aspire to a higher standard that subordinates racial faction to a broader national identity.”
He has urged Republicans to grasp the allure of this ideal, writing last year in The Free Press: “The right now has the winning argument. Americans support a ‘color-blind society’ over a ‘race-conscious society’ by a margin of more than three to one.” And he has depicted opposition to a color-blind meritocracy as a nefarious, left-wing tendency. Rufo’s “briefing book” on critical race theory notes: “Critical race theorists oppose meritocracy, especially standardized testing and competitive admissions in the education system. They claim that meritocracy is a mechanism to uphold racist structures and is derived from ‘racism, nativism, and eugenics.’”
Recently, however, Rufo has backed away from his previously forthright defense of meritocracy, and by all available evidence, he has done so because the principle turns out to contain a fatal flaw: Many of the Americans who benefit from meritocracy have brown skin. More to the point, a lot of Republicans resent those brown-skinned Americans. Given the right’s commitment to anti-intellectualism and populist resentment, and President Trump’s open embrace of job promotions based on loyalty or appearance (“central casting”) rather than qualifications, Rufo’s turn against race-blind merit might have been inevitable. Or perhaps his abandonment of the merit principle reveals a great deal about the motives that have driven him all along.
The sequence that set in motion Rufo’s conversion began with a social-media post by Bo French, a right-wing activist, the current Republican nominee for Texas railroad commissioner, and a longtime hater of many minority groups, especially Muslims. On September 13, French complained on X about the presence of South Asian students in the crowd at a University of Texas football game. “I heard UT graduation this year looked like this,” French wrote above a picture of the students celebrating. “I didn’t believe it. The problem is now obviously far worse than anyone imagined.”
Anti-Indian sentiment had been bubbling up on social media for some time. When FBI Director Kash Patel wrote “Happy Diwali” on X last year, his replies were flooded with “bigoted memes and rhetoric,” CNN reported. Vivek Ramaswamy, now the Republican nominee for governor in Ohio, wrote in a New York Times op-ed this past December that his feeds are “littered with hundreds of slurs.” A few days before French’s post, the Department of Homeland Security published an image of Optimus Prime confronting a brown-skinned man along with the words “Self-deport or find out” and “America for Americans. Get off our roads. You don’t know how to drive Mr. Singh.” The DHS post was deleted the next day.
But the naked expression of anti-Indian bigotry by a candidate for statewide office signified that it was threatening to enter mainstream Republican politics, a prospect that immediately divided the party. The schism tracked roughly along the same lines as the ones drawn during the initial response to Trump more than a decade ago. The post was met with angry pushback from National Review as well as Texas Senator John Cornyn and Republican strategist Karl Rove—the sorts of Republicans who have tolerated Trump but harbor a not-so-secret desire for the party to return to its pre-MAGA identity.
The MAGA right had an altogether more positive response to French’s outburst. Organs such as The Charlie Kirk Show, The Federalist, and the Daily Caller defended it. “Viewers noticed that the Longhorn student section on their TV screens was made up mostly of Indian students. If you are a native Texan, this might have been infuriating, but the demographic makeup wasn’t shocking,” explained the Caller, taking for granted that its audience would find the presence of large numbers of South Asian students at UT Austin outrageous and a cause for anger on its face.
The Trump administration weighed in, somewhat more elliptically, on French’s side. The day after French’s post, Trump posted an attack on Rove, who had said he would vote for French’s Democratic opponent in the November election. “Karl Rove is so bad for the Republican Party, and completely wrong so often,” the president wrote on Truth Social. The U.S. Department of Education posted several days later on X, “MAKE COLLEGE FOOTBALL GREAT AGAIN,” above an image of a mostly white crowd in the Texas stadium.
Trump’s intervention defined the correct position for the party faithful, as it generally does for any internecine Republican conflict. The attempt by Rove and other traditional Republicans to decree that anti-Indian bigotry was unwelcome inside their party had failed. Instead, Trump had announced that the people condemning racism against South Asians were the ones who did not belong in his coalition.
The task for the conservative-movement loyalists who wanted to remain was to rationalize this prejudice. Rufo, a conservative activist-intellectual who had built his reputation by opposing the practice of dividing people by race, was perfectly positioned to finesse this evolutionary step in party dogma.
Rufo recorded a podcast this week with Jonathan Keeperman, a right-wing publisher, for an episode they titled “The Indian Question.” One useful historical rule of thumb is that if your social identity is being made the name of a “question,” you are probably not going to like the answer.
Rufo conceded that French’s “rhetoric was bad; it’s very crude.” But the crucial question to keep in mind, he told Keeperman, was, “Is the underlying frustration coming from a legitimate place or can it all be dismissed?” They agreed that French’s frustration was legitimate. Rufo later elaborated on his reasoning by saying: “If you live in a suburb of Dallas, suddenly it’s a third or higher percentage new immigrants from India. It causes some disorientation and dislocation, which is legitimate, right?”
Resentment of these immigrant communities is understandable, the two men explained, not in spite of the fact that so many South Asians have been successful academically and economically, but because of it. Indian culture, they maintained, places too much value on studying and academic excellence, and these values are a threat to American culture.
Indian Americans, Rufo argued, are “going to grind on spelling-bee words like unlimited hours,” whereas American culture says, “You’re not supposed to study for the spelling bee.” Keeperman agreed: “What actually makes America so dynamic—it’s not the kid who studies all night for the spelling-bee test. It’s the kid who is the fullback on the high-school football team, who puts his head down and is willing to run through a freaking wall on behalf of his teammates and then spends the night drinking beers at the kegger and wakes up in the morning and gets a 1500 on his SATs, okay?”
Had a leftist suggested that American culture is defined by alcoholism and disdain for ambition, Rufo would surely decry the remark as a slander. But Keeperman and Rufo seemed to talk themselves into this bizarre version of American exceptionalism.
Rufo even began embracing concepts he had once defined as the hallmarks of his left-wing enemies. At one point, Rufo argued that “the right”—he was specifically describing conservatives who oppose anti-Indian racism—has fallen for a pernicious myth.
“The right always says”—here he adopted a mocking tone—“Oh, meritocracy, meritocracy, meritocracy. You morons. Meritocracy, the origin of the term meritocracy, it’s pejorative. It’s satirical. It’s not good. You actually don’t want meritocracy, because it perverts these unspoken cultural assumptions in ways that aren’t always visible, aren’t always, say, rationally defensible or problematic, but they strike at an essential component of the national character.”
The man who once depicted meritocracy as the very foundation of the republic now presents it as a sinister threat to American culture. In his Times op-ed, Ramaswamy argued that anti-Indian bigots “have no place in the conservative movement, period.” That debate now appears to be a settled one.
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