Anderson edited "Leveraging: A Political, Economic and Societal Framework," has taught at five universities and ran for the Democratic nomination for a Maryland congressional seat in 2016.
April is a good month to be thinking about poetry because it is National Poetry Month in the United States.
Former New York Gov. Mario Cuomo famously said, "You campaign in poetry. You govern in prose." This brilliant formulation may be how things should be. It may be how things used to be.
Today, campaigns are soaked in lies and negativity. They reflect poverty, not poetry. No one governs in prose either. Governance is a wild mixture of Hollywood, policy arguments, battle, horse trading and charisma. Cuomo was getting at the point that in campaigns the candidate must inspire voters with a vision that awakens them the way David Hume in the 18th century awakened Immanuel Kant from, as he said, his dogmatic slumbers. Hume motivated Kant to see that although all knowledge of the world does indeed begin with sensation, our minds impose a conceptual structure on every sensation we experience.
Campaigns today are more inclined to convince you that the candidate's opponent is dangerous to democracy or to grab you by the throat (or some other bodily parts) and pit you against the candidate's opponent by using a major wedge issue as if it were an ax. Candidates do tell you things they intend to do, some of which they may be able to do. But most of their promises rely on support from Congress, if they are running for president, or the rest of Congress and the president if they are running for the House or the Senate. You would think everyone was running for king based on how many times they say what "I will do" when they get into office.
There is no quick fix to the pathetic nature or our campaigns, especially the truck loads of money that are needed to run them, or the dysfunctional nature of our system of governance in Washington, D.C. Yet we might start by taking a page from Cuomo's book and creating a tone in our electoral politics that reminds us of poetry.
Now, poets of course differ — there are the classical poets like Pope and the romantic poets like Wordsworth, metaphysical poets with creative conceits like John Donne, pure masters of the ear like Alfred Lord Tennyson. The world's greatest dramatist, William Shakespeare, was also a master of the sonnet. Then there’s 20th century towering poets like T. S. Eliot and William Butler Yeats, fierce social and political poets like Langston Hughes and Adrienne Rich, poets of depression like Sylvia Plath, lone beautiful voices like Emily Dickinson, and straightforward, graceful poets like Robert Frost. And these are just the English-speaking poets.
But whether they are complex or graceful, racy, musical, rhymers or poets of free verse or blank verse, they are not offensive, though they may be jarring to the ear. And they are always illuminating. Yes, campaigns would be better if they were more illuminating and less intrusive, destructive and offensive. Candidates should also actually recite some poetry. I did — when I started my campaign in what became a high-profile Democratic primary in Maryland that my friend Jamie Raskin ultimately won.
Former Minnesota Sen. Eugene McCarthy was a poet, and he was joined by the poet Robert Lowell on the campaign trail in his race for president. McCarthy, who was against the Vietnam war, was eloquent and unlike Lyndon Johnson in almost every way. Some memorable lines:
- "This is, I say, the time for all good men not to go to the aid of their party, but to come to the aid of their country."
- "We do not need presidents who are bigger than the country, but rather ones who speak for it and support it."
- "I’m kind of an accidental instrument, really, through which I hope that the judgment and the will of this nation can be expressed."
My finance director convinced me that reciting a poem at each fundraiser, where my aim was to change the tone of politics step by step, would kill my campaign. So I caved and put the poetry aside.
One part of the strategy for changing our campaigns is thus to revisit Cuomo's dictum for how campaigns should be — they should be poetry in their tone and even include a bit of poetry. Changing our system of governance is a much more complicated and massive enterprise. But if we can change the tone of our campaigns by making them more poetic, then this will help change the tone and the substance of our system of governance.




















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.