They Say "None of the Above" But They Stand for Nothing but Functional Cynicism

The real handmaidens of America's decline are those who have wealth, power and the capacity and knowledge to know better.

In George Orwell's 1984, freedom is defined as the ability to say that “two plus two equals four.” This wasn't merely about mathematical truth—it was about maintaining our capacity to recognize and assert basic realities in the face of power. Today, we face our own test of freedom: the ability to recognize and name direct threats to constitutional governance without retreating into false equivalences and sophisticated equivocation.

A tired reference that bears repeating anyway: when Benjamin Franklin emerged from the Constitutional Convention in 1787, people have heard the story of how he famously told Elizabeth Willing Powel that the delegates had created “a republic if you can keep it.” That maintenance requires more than institutional mechanisms—it requires the moral courage to defend basic truths about constitutional governance. Yet we now witness a class of self-styled principled conservatives actively participating in the erosion of these truths while maintaining an air of superior detachment. They speak of principles while watching them burn, offering hollow equivocations as constitutional governance faces its greatest test since the Civil War.

The corruption of truth doesn't happen all at once. It occurs through the careful rationalization of intelligent people finding sophisticated ways to doubt what's directly in front of them. When conservatives who understand constitutional principles pretend not to see the difference between prosecuting specific crimes through established legal processes and explicit promises to use state power for political vengeance, they're participating in the same kind of reality distortion that Orwell described—where power can make people deny the evidence of their own eyes and reason.

The usual retort from these self-styled principled conservatives is that they cannot support either “extreme” and that they must wait for a more acceptable option to emerge. This position, while presenting itself as thoughtful moderation, fundamentally misunderstands both the nature of our current crisis and the responsibilities of citizenship in a constitutional republic.

Constitutional governance doesn't wait for perfect options. It requires citizens to actively defend basic democratic principles with the tools and choices available to them. When faced with an explicit threat to convert the Department of Justice into an instrument of personal vengeance, when confronted with open promises to dismantle civil service protections in favor of political loyalty, there is no neutral ground. The choice isn't between ideal options—it's between defending constitutional governance and enabling its destruction.

This isn't an argument for partisan loyalty. One need not embrace the entire Democratic platform to recognize and resist explicit threats to constitutional order. But the preservation of our republic cannot wait for the emergence of some hypothetical perfect alternative. The Founders understood this—they didn't wait for ideal conditions to establish our constitutional system. They worked with the imperfect tools and alliances available to them, understanding that the defense of republican governance sometimes requires choosing between imperfect options.

The current moment demands similar moral clarity. When one candidate explicitly promises to use state power for personal revenge, when they openly court business leaders operating in defiance of law, when they promise to replace career civil servants with loyalists, abstract complaints about both parties' imperfections become a form of moral abdication. The republic drowns not just through the actions of those who actively oppose it, but through the calculated inaction of those who claim to defend its principles while refusing to protect them in practice.

Indeed, the expansion of executive power under Democratic administrations deserves serious scrutiny and principled opposition. This author and others have consistently criticized Biden's aggressive use of executive authority, from student loan forgiveness attempts to immigration policy. These criticisms remain valid and important for maintaining constitutional balance.

But to suggest these policy disputes are somehow relevant to our current crisis fundamentally misunderstands what we're facing. The question before us isn't about the scope of executive authority within constitutional bounds—it's about explicit promises to convert federal power into an instrument of personal vengeance. When Trump promises to weaponize the Justice Department against his enemies, when he openly courts business leaders operating in defiance of law, when he pledges to replace career civil servants with political loyalists, we've moved beyond questions of executive overreach into the territory of systematic dismantling of constitutional governance itself.

This distinction isn't subtle. Policy decisions that test the boundaries of executive authority, while concerning, can be challenged through constitutional means—through courts, through Congress, through electoral processes. But explicit promises to use state power for personal revenge represent something fundamentally different: they signal an intent to dismantle the very mechanisms through which we resolve constitutional disputes.

The “none of the above” cynics' insistence on drawing equivalence between these fundamentally different challenges reveals their own moral abdication. By pretending that policy disputes about executive authority are somehow comparable to explicit threats to weaponize federal power, they're not just making a bad argument—they're actively participating in the erosion of crucial constitutional distinctions we need to maintain republican governance.

The abstract threat to constitutional governance has now taken concrete form with stunning speed. Less than two weeks into this new administration, we're witnessing not just the theoretical erosion of democratic norms but their actual dismantling through specific policy decisions. Consider what's unfolding before our eyes: The president of the United States is operating a “meme coin” that has generated hundreds of millions in personal profit, maintaining direct control over his own social media platform, and integrating a major tech executive's private infrastructure directly into essential government functions.

This goes beyond traditional concerns about conflicts of interest or the expansion of executive power. When the NTSB announces it will use Musk's X platform as its exclusive channel for public communication, in the wake of politically motivated dismissals at the FAA, we're watching the literal privatization of essential government functions in real time. This isn't just about policy disagreements or the scope of executive authority—it's about the systematic transfer of public power into private hands in ways that would have shocked even the Gilded Age's most ardent defenders of corporate power.

The moral urgency of this moment cannot be overstated. Every day we spend debating whether this represents a genuine crisis is another day these private interests entrench their control over public functions. The self-reinforcing nature of this power grab becomes clearer with each new development—the more government functions rely on private platforms, the more those platform owners can shape public policy, creating a cycle of increasing private control over public authority. This isn't happening gradually or in secret—it's happening rapidly and in plain sight, precisely because its architects understand that speed itself is a weapon against organized resistance.

Those who continue to equivocate, to search for historical precedents in previous administrations' actions, fundamentally misunderstand what we're witnessing. This isn't about partisan policy disputes or even traditional corruption—it's about the systematic dismantling of the boundary between private commercial interests and public authority. When critical government agencies like the NTSB surrender their independent communication channels to private platforms controlled by administration officials, we've moved beyond questions of influence into the territory of direct private control over essential public functions.

The comparison between Trump's current integration of private business interests into government functions and the allegations about Biden reveals how thoroughly these “principled” conservatives have lost their capacity for basic distinction-making. Consider the stark contrast: The most sensational accusations about Biden's supposed corruption through his son's business dealings quite literally fell apart in court, with a key accuser facing jail time for fabricating evidence. Yet this same cohort of concerned citizens now watches in silence as Trump openly operates a speculative financial instrument from the Oval Office, maintains direct control of a social media platform while serving as president, and integrates private tech platforms directly into essential government functions.

The intellectual gymnastics required to maintain this position are remarkable. When confronted with Trump's explicit merger of private business interests and public power—something happening in real time, in plain sight, with clear documentation—these voices immediately pivot to recycling discredited allegations about Biden. They cling to shadows of supposed corruption while averting their eyes from its concrete manifestation right in front of them. This isn't just hypocrisy—it's a fundamental failure to engage with reality in the way Orwell warned us about.

This pattern of deflection reveals something deeper than mere partisan bias. It shows how thoroughly the capacity for moral reasoning has been corrupted by the need to maintain false equivalences. When you can look at a president directly profiting from a “meme coin” while in office, installing private tech executives into government functions, and dismantling the traditional boundaries between public authority and private interest, yet still insist on pointing to disproven allegations about his predecessor—you've lost more than political judgment. You've lost the ability to recognize and assert basic truths about constitutional governance.

The intellectual dishonesty of these “none of the above” critics reaches new heights when confronted with recent developments. While they continue to gesture vaguely at Biden family corruption, reality tells a starkly different story: One of the key accusers who claimed to have evidence of Biden's corruption has just been sentenced to six years in prison for fabricating the entire narrative. Meanwhile, in just the first two weeks of Trump's new administration, we witness an unprecedented merger of private and public power happening in plain sight.

Consider what's actually unfolding before us: The president is currently operating a “meme coin” that has generated hundreds of millions in personal profit while in office. He maintains direct control over his own social media platform, TRUTH Social, without any pretense of separation between his public duties and private interests. Even more alarming, a major tech executive, Elon Musk, who runs the X platform, has been integrated into the administration itself. The consequences of this arrangement became brutally clear this week when, following politically motivated dismissals at the FAA, the NTSB announced it would use Musk's private platform as its exclusive channel for public communication.

This is not a matter of complex financial arrangements requiring forensic accounting to understand. It's not about decoded emails or disputed meetings. It's happening right in front of us, in real time, with no attempt at concealment. The administration isn't even bothering to maintain the traditional pretense of separation between public authority and private interest. Yet somehow, these self-styled defenders of constitutional principle still insist on pointing back to discredited allegations about Biden, as if these two situations were somehow comparable.

This false equivalence does more than misrepresent current events—it actively participates in the erosion of our ability to make crucial constitutional distinctions. When these critics pretend that disproven allegations about Biden's past are somehow relevant to the active dismantling of the boundary between public and private power happening right now, they're not just making a bad argument. They're helping to dismantle the basic categories we need to maintain constitutional governance.

The republic our Founders established wasn't designed to be a spectator sport. It requires citizens willing to make difficult choices in imperfect circumstances. Those who retreat into philosophical detachment while constitutional governance faces direct assault aren't preserving principles—they're abandoning them at the moment of greatest need. Their sophisticated neutrality isn't wisdom—it's a abdication of the most fundamental responsibility of citizenship in a constitutional republic.

The time for fence-sitting has passed. When a president openly operates private businesses from the Oval Office, integrates tech executives into government functions, and promises to use state power for personal vengeance, we face a binary choice: defend constitutional governance or enable its dismantling. There is no morally neutral ground between these positions, no philosophical high ground from which to observe the republic's dissolution while maintaining one's principles intact.