I. The Battle Over Facts
When Donald Trump fired Dr. Kristine Joy Suh, head of the Bureau of Labor Statistics, after a disappointing July jobs report, it wasn’t merely a personnel decision—it was a sharp break with precedent. Suh’s removal upended decades of tradition in which BLS commissioners, regardless of who appointed them, were shielded from political retaliation to preserve statistical integrity. In his second term, Trump has made it clear that data isn’t merely information to be reported—it’s a narrative to be controlled. If the numbers align with his message, they’re hailed as proof of success. If they don’t, they’re dismissed as fake—or worse, subversive.
This shift signals more than a partisan impulse—it marks the erosion of institutions designed to uphold objective truth. For decades, federal statistics have anchored democratic governance, offering policymakers, markets, and the public a shared factual baseline. Trump’s approach upends that legacy, promoting the idea that data should serve political ends rather than public understanding.
The war on truth isn’t new, but under Trump, it has escalated into a sustained campaign against independent information. This is no longer just about spin; it’s about restructuring government to control the public’s understanding of social reality. At stake is whether democracy can function at all without a foundation of facts.
II. Data as Narrative: When Numbers Tell a Political Story
Presidents have always tried to spin the numbers. But Trump has gone further—casting doubt not just on interpretations but on the legitimacy of the data itself. During his first term, he routinely dismissed unfavorable jobs reports, distorted trade figures, and undermined the Federal Reserve’s credibility. In his second term, this distrust has hardened into policy: statistical professionals are fired, and institutions are reshaped to serve partisan objectives.
This tactic mirrors authoritarian regimes. Argentina manipulated inflation statistics for years. China’s economic numbers are widely viewed as political theater. The consequences in both cases are well known: investors hesitate, policy flounders, and public trust collapses. Without reliable data, no one—from executives to voters—can make informed decisions.
Trump’s economic storytelling follows this pattern. He claimed to have created “7 million jobs,” despite a slowdown in job growth compared to the Obama years. According to a July 2020 FactCheck.org report, 7.8 million jobs had actually been lost since Trump took office, including 274,000 manufacturing jobs and 7,100 coal mining jobs. Meanwhile, a low unemployment rate disguised stagnant wages and shrinking labor force participation.
These distortions are reinforced by conspiracy rhetoric. Trump and his allies have accused career civil servants of being part of a “deep state.” In 2019, he even blamed the Federal Reserve for supposedly using flawed data to suppress economic growth. In his second term, that rhetoric has justified a sweeping purge and restructuring of federal statistical agencies.
The infrastructure for producing trustworthy data still exists—but its foundations are being chipped away. If people stop trusting official statistics, even accurate ones lose their power. And when truth becomes negotiable, democracy begins to rot—not in a dramatic collapse, but in slow, unnoticed decay.
III. How U.S. Economic Data Is Supposed to Work
For generations, the United States has been the global gold standard for independent economic data. This credibility relies on institutional safeguards that keep politics at bay.
The Bureau of Labor Statistics surveys about 60,000 households and 120,000 businesses each month to report on jobs, wages, and labor force dynamics. These processes are governed by strict scientific protocols and carried out by nonpartisan professionals. The same holds true for the Census Bureau, the Bureau of Economic Analysis, and other statistical arms of government.
Equally vital is the release protocol: data is published on a rigid schedule—without political preview or interference. Agencies disclose their methodologies, acknowledge margins of error, and correct mistakes publicly. Independent economists and journalists vet the results. These checks are not ceremonial—they’re essential.
The system has withstood pressure before. In 2020, the Census Bureau resisted attempts to manipulate its count of undocumented immigrants. But what once required vigilance now requires urgent defense.
This year, Trump’s Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) executed a mass purge of federal employees. Over 200,000 workers—many of them statisticians and data analysts—were fired. Elon Musk briefly led the “agency” (it was never officially authorized by Congress), claiming efficiency as the goal. But internal watchdogs saw something else: a targeted dismantling of statistical capacity.
The results are already visible. Survey sizes are shrinking, data processing is slower, and regional offices—especially in underserved areas—are closing. The result is a federal data system that’s less accurate, less comprehensive, and more susceptible to distortion.
This isn’t an abstract threat. When the numbers fail, the system fails. Legislators can’t budget. Businesses can’t invest. Voters can’t judge performance. Without trusted data, democracy becomes guesswork. And once trust erodes, restoring it is far more difficult than sustaining it.
We don’t need a scenario of outright falsification to sound the alarm. Eroding staffing, politicizing leadership, and slashing oversight are enough to poison the well. In today’s fractured environment, even a whisper of doubt can be weaponized.
Defending public data may seem technical, even dull. But it’s fundamental to safeguarding democracy itself. If we can’t trust the numbers, what’s left to guide policy, accountability, or civic debate? Truth is infrastructure. And in an era when power seeks to bend reality, that infrastructure must be defended.
A democracy cannot function in the dark—though you wouldn’t know it from the Washington Post, which once emblazoned a similar phrase as a slogan during Trump’s first term, only to quietly retire it when the marketing calculus changed. At a time when media vigilance is essential, walking away from that commitment accelerates the erosion of facts. The truth, inconvenient or not, still matters.
Robert Cropf is a professor of political science at Saint Louis University.
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.