Trump’s Rainbow Coalition

By Taylor Lewis

Jesse Jackson, eat your heart out, from whatever convalescent home his son’s dirty money catches the bill for.

A new “rainbow coalition” is arcing over Washington, from the sleek, right-angled condos of Navy Yard, stretching north above the concrete flatland of 7th Street dotted with brutalist department headquarters, all the way to the leafy fastness of Fort Meade. And this time it’s not some dark-and-beige team-up that looks like a Netflix inclusion rider brought to life but is easily trounced by… checks Ballotpedia… snort… almond-milk Walter Mondale.

President Trump’s Cabinet is shaping up to be that most unusual thing in politics: an actual mingling of diverging philosophies, many of which would ordinarily clash on the intellectual battlefield.

This isn’t a herd of technocrats, bleating mindlessly and following the bell wherever it’s rung. Nor is it a Georgetown cocktail set whose only disagreement is their favorite hors d’oeuvre offering in the CNN green room. It’s an eclectic, varied, heterodox band of colorful outsiders who, aside from serving in the presidential successive conga line, probably wouldn’t be caught dead at a shindy together.

Trump has managed to collate a Cheesecake Factory Cabinet: there’s a flavor to tickle anyone’s taste buds, except for maybe a full-blown Marxist, who’d be fine feasting on dirt and rocks anyway. So what’s the who’s who? Cue the Super Smash Bros. “choose your character” music!

To start, there are mainline Republicans, which, by default, will fill out any R-administration. These pallid pachyderms include Doug Burgum as Interior Secretary, Chris Wright as Energy Secretary, and Scott Bessesent as Treasury Secretary, all of whom probably aced their macro-econ 101 courses by writing “marginal tax cuts” repetitiously during every exam and would have fit snugly under President Bush. Secretary of State Marco Rubio once hewed to this typology, being a protégé of one of Kennebunkport’s favored sons, but traded his steely hawkishness for a kind of populism-lite.

There is, of course, the flip side to Bushism, the Republican’s most hated foe: Republicans who, innocently or stupidly or both, think the whole “reduce the size of the government” pledge is a serious compact and not a gimmick. Within this Tea Party-ish rump are two fractions: those who think an angel gets its wings after each Fox News hit and those who wet dream about putting bureaucrats in bread lines. In the former category, former South Dakota governor, now Secretary of Homeland Security, Kristi Noem fits the bill. In the latter, former grassroots wrangler, now director of the Office of Management and Budget, Russell Vought, which is admittedly a non-cabinet station but exercises significant authority over the federal purse.

No Trump team would be complete without one or two camera charmers whose faces bear a permanent glow-up sheen. Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth, easily Trump’s most rum pick, is a former Fox News host and infantryman who opted for cable-celebrity over Blob assimilation. Similarly, Secretary of Transportation Sean Duffy, a former congressman, also anchored a Fox program—which was before making his name as an MTV reality-show star. Both Hegseth and Duffy are far from ideologues, but vessels for the president’s malleable nationalist instincts.

A MAGA firebrand is sine quo non for the America First executive. And what better way to troll Joe Biden’s technocratic lawfare than instill a dutiful deputy at the Department of Justice? Trump’s Attorney General Pam Bondi, who served on the president’s legal defense corps during his first impeachment, was tapped for the top-cop role after the first nominee, Rep. Matt Gaetz, bowed out due to a, let’s say, Lolita-like scandal. The same dynamic applies for the newly instilled FBI Director, Kash Patel, whose previous jobs include children’s author, congressional gopher, and all around throne-sniffer.

At last come the wildcards who are turning what may ordinarily be a bland Republican council into something more multifaceted and, dare I say, diverse. That’s diverse with an emphasis on the “D” since some members are former Democrats.

The new Director of National Intelligence is someone who was once wrongly within the crosshairs of our sprawling spyocracy. Tulsi Gabbard, a former representative from Hawaii, combat veteran, and civil libertarian now heads an agency she’s long accused of unconstitutional surveillance. The Wall Street Journal editorial board is still weeping into their silk hankies.

Then there’s the former heroin addict with a brainworm and Marlboro vocal fry in charge of public health. Robert Kennedy, Jr., has been confirmed as the Secretary of Health and Human Services following, first, challenging then-incumbent Joe Biden for the Democratic nomination, second, a brief flirtation with the Libertarian Party’s presidential nod, third, an independent bid based on banning the use of t-shirt dye in Fruit Loops. The former tree-hugging activist who called for euthanizing paper conglomerates now holds a top post in a Republican administration. Horseshoe theory brought to life!

At last, there’s the as-of-this-writing unconfirmed Labor Secretary, Oregon Rep. Lori Chavez-DeRemer, who is another political chimera: a pro-union Republican. Endorsed by Teamsters president Sean M. O’Brien, sponsor of the PRO Act, which dilutes right-to-work laws, and a picket line marcher, Chavez-DeRemer is perhaps the clearest ideogram of our ongoing party realignment, as the GOP fixates more on downmarket materialism and less on stock market hops. Ten years ago, Chavez-DeRemer would be a standard Obama backer; a decade later she’s a tribune of roustabouts in a Republic Administration.

The assembled MAGAvengers are a far cry from the first iteration in 2017, when, lacking for talent and experienced operators, the neophyte president took the path of least resistance, selecting a squad of c-level CPAC speakers. But this cabinet, despite its diffuse worldviews, is more representative of our vast, multiracial republic than the monotype Democratic politburos of late. It is “old, weird America” personified in acerbic, utterly convinced personalities, much like the President whom they all serve.

What will it mean for the country and its government, which seems to have an insatiable appetite for authority? Early doors yet. Diversity doesn’t make us stronger. Only wisdom and will do.

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