Goldstone’s most recent book is "On Account of Race: The Supreme Court, White Supremacy, and the Ravaging of African American Voting Rights."
On Aug. 2, staid, conservative Kansas gave the United States one of the biggest jolts in an election season in which Democratic disaster and Republican ascension had been such an accepted fact that left-wing media’s denial of inevitability sounded more like prayer. President Biden’s approval rating was lower than Donald Trump’s, inflation was raging, war in Ukraine was sapping public will, and Democrats were desperately thrashing about for some issue, any issue, they could use to limit the carnage.
Justice Samuel Alito, of all people, may have given them one.
In the wake of Alito’s smug, pompous opinion in Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization, gleeful conservatives felt free to mount a full scale assault on reproductive rights in every red state, and some blue ones, in which the ability to have an abortion had not yet been outlawed.
Where better to start than Kansas?
The task appeared simple. In what seemed an anachronistic quirk in a state Donald Trump had won by 15 points, the Kansas Constitution contained a provision that protected a woman’s right to obtain an abortion. In order for the deeply conservative Legislature to enact restrictive abortion legislation, or even outlaw the procedure altogether, Kansas voters needed merely to approve a change to the Constitution in a statewide referendum. By a happy coincidence, such a ballot initiative was already in the works.
The anti-abortion side, although confident of victory, tried to remove any element of risk with a couple of technically legal but morally questionable moves. First, they scheduled the vote for primary day, Aug. 2, rather than in the general election, to capitalize on traditionally low Democratic turnout for primaries that rarely resulted in them choosing a candidate with any chance at victory in November. Next, in the spirit of George Orwell, they jiggled the wording of the referendum to make “Yes” a vote to restrict abortion and “No” a vote to retain the constitutional guarantee to abortion rights. Anti-abortion advocacy groups even ran ads with light-fingered phraseology, trying to convince gullible pro-choice voters that a “Yes” vote would protect women’s access to abortion providers.
The vote was preceded by the predictable spending war, with each side investing about $6 million. The “Yes” contingent was largely represented by a group called Value Them Both, which received most of its funding from the Catholic Church and affiliates; the “No” side was led by Kansans for Constitutional Freedom, which received hefty funding from Planned Parenthood.
Although polling was limited and some predicted a close race, most pro-choice advocates did not express much optimism about actually winning, but were instead hoping for a sufficiently narrow defeat to indicate that sentiment in Kansas was trending in their direction. Even when the vote tallies began to come in, analysts on CNN and MSNBC warned that mail-in votes, skewed to Democrats, were counted first and the early lead would likely not hold up when the in-person votes were added in.
But it did.
As the night wore on, it became apparent that not only would “No” win, but that it would do so by an astounding margin, which turned out to be 170,000 votes or almost 20 percentage points, a 35-point swing from 2020. In addition, Republicans’ attempt to limit turnout backfired — 900,000 Kansans cast ballots, more than twice the number that generally voted in the state’s primaries. To say that every single prognosticator was left slack-jawed would not be an overstatement.
An upset of this magnitude is as irresistible to pundits as it is rare. Some pore over the electoral map and attempt to discern changes in voting patterns county by county or even town by town. Some examine the ads to hypothesize on the reasons some were effective and some failed to motivate voters. Others look at endorsements and outside influences, both financial and personal. Theories based in either quantitative analysis or sociological phenomena abound. What will be common to almost all of them is that, because they are generated by political theorists, they will have a political basis.
But perhaps the explanation is not political at all. Perhaps the conservative voters of Kansas simply chose not to blindly follow the dictates of either Republican Party leaders or Donald Trump (although the two terms have recently been redundant) Supreme Court justices, or even leaders of the Catholic Church. Perhaps they rejected the notion that powerful men and the occasional powerful woman in public office and on the Supreme Court should be allowed to ignore their oaths of office and follow their own agenda regardless of whose rights or freedoms they trample on in the process.
And finally, perhaps they decided that the forces that call themselves “pro-life” but would bully a woman into dying in the process of giving birth to a child sired by a rapist are too filled with hypocrisies to be honorable. Thomas Jefferson, in the Declaration of Independence, wrote, “With a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.” Perhaps the voters of Kansas decided honor was indeed sacred after all.
If this be so, it is a far more positive development than mere success at the ballot box. While Democrats are certainly heartened over the rejection of a measure that would have allowed the Kansas Legislature to take total control of what they consider a personal decision and a vital component of health care, this may well have been a nonpartisan statement by both Democrats and Republicans that they do not wish to be ordered about, lectured to, or manipulated into providing political advantage to either party by depriving some Americans of their rights or their freedoms.
If, by some wondrous happenstance, this is the true meaning of the Kansas vote, Kansans may have helped set the United States back on the road to democracy, from which it has recently strayed so grievously.




















U.S. President Donald Trump delivers the State of the Union address during a joint session of Congress in the House Chamber at the Capitol on Feb. 24, 2026, in Washington, D.C. Trump delivered his address days after the Supreme Court struck down the administration's tariff strategy, and amid a U.S. military buildup in the Persian Gulf threatening Iran.
Some MAGA loyalists have turned on Trump. Why the rest haven’t
I recently watched "A Face in the Crowd" for the umpteenth time.
I had a better reason than procrastination to rewatch Elia Kazan’s brilliant 1957 film exploring populism in the television age. It was homework. I was asked to discuss it with Turner Classic Movies host Ben Mankiewicz at the just-concluded TCM Film Festival in Los Angeles. As a pundit and an author, I do a lot of public speaking. But I don’t really do a lot of cool public speaking, so this was a treat.
With that not-very-humble brag out of the way, I had a depressing realization watching it this time.
"A Face in the Crowd" tells the story of a charming drifter with a dark side named Larry “Lonesome” Rhodes, played brilliantly by Andy Griffith. A singer with the gift of the gab, Rhodes takes off on radio but quickly segues to the brand-new medium of television. He becomes a national sensation — and political kingmaker — by forming a deep connection with the masses, particularly among the rural and working classes. His core audience is made up of people with grievances. “Everybody that’s got to jump when somebody else blows the whistle,” as Rhodes puts it.
The film’s climax (spoiler alert) comes when Rhodes’ manager and spurned lover, Marcia, turns on the microphone while the credits rolled at the end of “Cracker Barrel,” his national TV show. Rhodes tells his entourage what he really thinks of the “morons” in his audience. “Shucks, I can take chicken fertilizer and sell it to them for caviar. I can make them eat dog food, and they’ll think it’s steak. … Good night, you stupid idiots.”
It was a canonical “hot mic” moment in American cinema. But the idea that if people could glimpse the “real person” behind the popular facade, they’d turn on them is a very old theme in literature — think Pierre Choderlos de Laclos’ "Les Liaisons Dangereuses" (1782) or Richard Brinsley Sheridan’s "The School for Scandal" (1777), in which diaries and letters do the work of microphones.
Kazan and screenwriter Budd Schulberg were very worried about the ability of demagogues to whip up populist fervor and manipulate the masses through the power of TV, in part because everyone had already seen it happen with radio and film, by Father Coughlin in America and Hitler in Germany. But as dark as their vision was, they still clung to the idea that if the demagogue was exposed, the people would instantly turn on their leader in an “Emperor’s New Clothes” moment for the mass media age.
And that’s the source of my depressing realization. I think they were wrong. It turns out that once that organic connection is made, even a shocking revelation of the truth won’t necessarily break the spell.
In 2016, a lot of writers revisited "A Face in the Crowd" to understand the Trump phenomenon. After all, here was a guy who used a TV show — "The Apprentice" — and social media to build a massive following, going over the heads of the “establishment.” Trump’s own hot mic moment with "Access Hollywood," in which he boasted of his sexual predations, proved insufficient to undo him. That was hardly the only such moment for him. We’ve heard Trump bully the Georgia secretary of state to “find 11,780 votes.” He told Bob Woodward he deliberately “played down” COVID-19. After leaving office, he was recorded telling aides he shouldn’t be sharing classified documents with them — then doing it anyway. And so on.
Trump’s famous claim that he could “shoot somebody” on Fifth Avenue and not lose any voters may have been hyperbole. But it’s not crazy to think he wouldn’t lose as many voters as he should.
In the film, Lonesome Rhodes implodes when Americans encounter his off-air persona. The key to Trump’s success is that he ran as his off-air persona. Why people love that persona is a complicated question. Among the many complementary explanations is that he comes across as authentic, and some people value authenticity more than they value good character, honesty, or competence.
This is not just a problem for Republicans. Maine Senate candidate Graham Platner once had a Nazi tattoo and has said things about women as distasteful as Trump’s “grab them by (the genitals)” comments, and the Democratic establishment is rallying around him because he’s authentic — and because Democrats want to win that race.
Many prominent MAGA loyalists are turning on Trump these days. They claim — wrongly in my opinion — that he’s changed and that the Iran war is a betrayal of their cause. But if you look at the polls, voters who describe themselves as “MAGA” still overwhelmingly support Trump. In short, he still has the Fifth Avenue voters on his side.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.