Firstenberg, a former Senate staffer, is an artist and created an installation near the Washington Monument to make visible the human toll of the Covid-19 pandemic.
“I probably have, what, 10 more years? And nothing to do with them,” he said. The 64-year-old good ol’ boy had meant to vent his frustration. Instead, he uncovered his sad truth.
By pulling front-end in beside my charging Tesla, he had blocked my car door from opening with his black, extended cab F150. Parked with windows open at a Wawa in southern Virginia, I became his defacto captive audience.
“How long does it take to charge that thing?” he began. Without waiting for my response, he launched his first salvo, “You know, that battery will be an environmental hazard.” Likely, he had just pumped $5.29 per gallon gas.
His grievances burst forth in a racist, liberal-bashing, ugly froth. Always ready to learn about people, I let him talk. Figuring he would not physically attack me in broad daylight, I employed the fine art of rational/emotional jujitsu. We had chosen our weapons — his was anger and grievance. Mine was that he had underestimated me.
As he railed against Black people, I looked into his eyes and asked, “What makes you and me better than Black people?” As evidence, he told me of a Black woman who had set her bag of Costco groceries on the hood of his truck while she buckled her daughter into her car seat.
“So you cared more about your paint job than the safety of a child?” I challenged him. He stammered, then continued. He had lost his job at a florist shop because he had called a customer the “N” word. “And the woman who fired me was older than me!”
Now we were getting somewhere.
“President Biden is ruining the country!” he said, pivoting subjects.
“Congress is the problem,” I countered, asking him who is sending all these idiots to D.C. “People have more power than they know,” I countered. “Vote for better people.”
“The environment is going to hell. Everything is going to hell,” he lamented. “I probably have 10 more years to go … and what do I have to do?”
“You can help a lot of people in 10 years’ time. You just have to focus on others.”
Twenty minutes of being heard likely did not change his world. Those minutes changed mine. They clarified the existential depths of despair that animate America’s angry and aggrieved.
They need us to hear them. Not to agree, but to guide them away from identities of ideology and to challenge them to matter. They can matter. With our help, most of them will.
Eric Trump, the newly appointed ALT5 board director of World Liberty Financial, walks outside of the NASDAQ in Times Square as they mark the $1.5- billion partnership between World Liberty Financial and ALT5 Sigma with the ringing of the NASDAQ opening bell, on Aug. 13, 2025, in New York City.
Why does the Trump family always get a pass?
Deputy Attorney General Todd Blanche joined ABC’s “This Week” on Sunday to defend or explain a lot of controversies for the Trump administration: the Epstein files release, the events in Minneapolis, etc. He was also asked about possible conflicts of interest between President Trump’s family business and his job. Specifically, Blanche was asked about a very sketchy deal Trump’s son Eric signed with the UAE’s national security adviser, Sheikh Tahnoon.
Shortly before Trump was inaugurated in early 2025, Tahnoon invested $500 million in the Trump-owned World Liberty, a then newly launched cryptocurrency outfit. A few months later, UAE was granted permission to purchase sensitive American AI chips. According to the Wall Street Journal, which broke the story, “the deal marks something unprecedented in American politics: a foreign government official taking a major ownership stake in an incoming U.S. president’s company.”
“How do you respond to those who say this is a serious conflict of interest?” ABC host George Stephanopoulos asked.
“I love it when these papers talk about something being unprecedented or never happening before,” Blanche replied, “as if the Biden family and the Biden administration didn’t do exactly the same thing, and they were just in office.”
Blanche went on to boast about how the president is utterly transparent regarding his questionable business practices: “I don’t have a comment on it beyond Trump has been completely transparent when his family travels for business reasons. They don’t do so in secret. We don’t learn about it when we find a laptop a few years later. We learn about it when it’s happening.”
Sadly, Stephanopoulos didn’t offer the obvious response, which may have gone something like this: “OK, but the president and countless leading Republicans insisted that President Biden was the head of what they dubbed ‘the Biden Crime family’ and insisted his business dealings were corrupt, and indeed that his corruption merited impeachment. So how is being ‘transparent’ about similar corruption a defense?”
Now, I should be clear that I do think the Biden family’s business dealings were corrupt, whether or not laws were broken. Others disagree. I also think Trump’s business dealings appear to be worse in many ways than even what Biden was alleged to have done. But none of that is relevant. The standard set by Trump and Republicans is the relevant political standard, and by the deputy attorney general’s own account, the Trump administration is doing “exactly the same thing,” just more openly.
Since when is being more transparent about wrongdoing a defense? Try telling a cop or judge, “Yes, I robbed that bank. I’ve been completely transparent about that. So, what’s the big deal?”
This is just a small example of the broader dysfunction in the way we talk about politics.
Americans have a special hatred for hypocrisy. I think it goes back to the founding era. As Alexis de Tocqueville observed in “Democracy In America,” the old world had a different way of dealing with the moral shortcomings of leaders. Rank had its privileges. Nobles, never mind kings, were entitled to behave in ways that were forbidden to the little people.
In America, titles of nobility were banned in the Constitution and in our democratic culture. In a society built on notions of equality (the obvious exceptions of Black people, women, Native Americans notwithstanding) no one has access to special carve-outs or exemptions as to what is right and wrong. Claiming them, particularly in secret, feels like a betrayal against the whole idea of equality.
The problem in the modern era is that elites — of all ideological stripes — have violated that bargain. The result isn’t that we’ve abandoned any notion of right and wrong. Instead, by elevating hypocrisy to the greatest of sins, we end up weaponizing the principles, using them as a cudgel against the other side but not against our own.
Pick an issue: violent rhetoric by politicians, sexual misconduct, corruption and so on. With every revelation, almost immediately the debate becomes a riot of whataboutism. Team A says that Team B has no right to criticize because they did the same thing. Team B points out that Team A has switched positions. Everyone has a point. And everyone is missing the point.
Sure, hypocrisy is a moral failing, and partisan inconsistency is an intellectual one. But neither changes the objective facts. This is something you’re supposed to learn as a child: It doesn’t matter what everyone else is doing or saying, wrong is wrong. It’s also something lawyers like Mr. Blanche are supposed to know. Telling a judge that the hypocrisy of the prosecutor — or your client’s transparency — means your client did nothing wrong would earn you nothing but a laugh.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.