In the run-up to the midterms, the president’s final move is to make the election about himself.
In the run-up to the midterms, the president’s final move is to make the election about himself.
T he Democratic siege against Republican incumbents has been a brutal, yearlong struggle — a civil war on both sides of the aisle, but one whose outcome looks likely to strongly favor Democrats in November. Trump is not a popular man, nor have his economic or foreign policy decisions endeared him to anyone except his most devoted fans.
If you hew to traditional sentiments about such things, the last time a party on the back foot has any chance to turn its fortunes around before the November elections is by Labor Day. And perk your ears: Lo, the sound of a trumpet! Look out over yonder, toward next week — what’s that heading over the horizon? Is it the Republican cavalry charging over the hill, with a flood of advertising money and a positive electoral message in its train, to at last relieve beleaguered GOP incumbents hunkered down across America?
Sorry, readers: Best I can do for ya’ is more Trump.
Yes, the first-ever Republican “Midterm Convention” is coming to Dallas next Wednesday, a two-day spectacular that promises to give American voters more of what they’re hungry for right now: Trump, Trump, Trump. True, I am only guessing as to what the tone of next week’s events will be. But I know my man, and anyway the preview advertisements from Trump’s super PAC have set the tone. “Look at How Great I’ve Made America!” Let’s see if it works.
Beyond the fact that Trump expanded his role from one night to two — originally he was supposed to keynote on Thursday with Vance handling Wednesday, but then he chose to speak on the first night as well — I don’t know the full list of speakers, and neither does anyone else. Perhaps that’s because most Republican politicians aren’t being shy about their decision to find any other way to spend their time and money than by flying to Dallas near the end of campaign season to renew their wedding vows to a demonstrably uncaring president.
Note what I wrote there: Attending Republican congressmen are not only expected to spend two days pledging their allegiance to Trump on national television; they are also expected to pay for the privilege, a “suggested” $25,000 donation to the NRCC. Given how close many of these midterm House races already are, spending five digits to do something that can only hurt you with swing voters seems like a dubious trade-off.
But beyond that, let us ask: What is the point of any of this? What is the electoral goal of a midterm convention even supposed to be? The idea isn’t a new one. The Democrats held them three times, in 1974, 1978, and 1982, albeit for much different reasons: They were a legacy of the lunatic concessions made during the 1972 convention to the McGovernite wing of the party. And they were finally dispensed with when the party realized that all conventions did was encourage Democrats to tear each other apart factionally. (One bright side: The 1978 convention enabled rosy-cheeked manslaughterer Ted Kennedy to lay the groundwork for his 1980 campaign against Carter, an effort so disorganized and brainless that it immediately blew away like a drunken belch in the middle of a nor’easter.)
This one is different. This is a purely brand-promotional exercise, meant in theory to excite a sullen electorate and encourage them to get out there and defend the Republican majority across the nation. There will be no behind-the-scenes debates; a unified front, programmed by the administration, will be presented. (It is also probably what Trump considers his key in-kind donation to the Ken Paxton campaign: himself.)
But what message is there to sell to voters in 2026? What story is there to tell? Erick Erickson did a fine job this morning on his Substack of summarizing the self-evident reasons why this venture seems garishly misconceived: A midterm convention that seeks to rally the voters — even just the base — ought to be organized around what the GOP can do for you. The pitch can’t just be a defensive one. “They’re crazier than we are” may technically be correct, but it’s hardly inspiring (and sometimes incorrect these days in any event).
Instead, we are getting a message based exclusively on the greatness of Trump and on how Trump has made America as great as him. And that is inevitably going to strike a sour note at a time when Trump is as popular with American sentiment as a persistent case of scrofula. But it’s also unavoidable — and not just because Trump’s ego requires every event to be a celebration of himself.
“Sell the future, not the past,” Erickson says, repeating the wisdom of former Texas Governor Ann Richards. But what future? And what past? The true folly of a midterm convention is that Republicans can’t make many positive arguments for either their achievements or agenda in Congress because they don’t have much to point to. Thank Trump.
Trump returned to the presidency in 2025 transparently intending to sideline Congress and govern instead by executive order, which enables him to exploit the powers of his office unilaterally: remaking global economics on spurious legal grounds, renaming buildings and bodies of water, prosecuting his enemies, etc. (On the good side: closing the border and striking down government involvement in DEI and transgender activism.) The fact that all of these acts can be instantly undone by the next president means little to him: He can bank easy and instant wins. He has never had need for the legislative branch as anything but a rubber stamp — and a buffer against his enemies. They are shield bearers only — he alone wields the sword.
So what argument can the GOP really hope to make to a public that is profoundly tired of Trump? “It’s critical to vote GOP in November, to ensure the next two years are exactly the same as the last two!”
It’s easy (and fair) to criticize Donald Trump for making next week’s midterm convention about him instead of the Republican Party. But in a sense, it’s honest advertising.