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.




















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.