Rich Lowry:

Joe Biden’s video announcing his reelection bid makes much of his supposed defense of democracy.

Matt Purple:

It was Saturday morning and MSNBC’s Tiffany Cross had a bee in her bonnet. With Senator Lindsey Graham predicting riots in the streets, with Donald Trump reacting to the FBI raid on his home like the Archduke Ferdinand had just been offed, Cross told her audience, “These days, it feels like we are not just at the brink of a civil war, but that one has already begun.”

Six months ago, here’s how I would have responded to Cross: of course this is what a hyper-partisan MSNBC host would say. Civil war fears are really just LARPing by Twitter elites who thrive on hatred of the other side and so assume everyone else must too. “WE’RE GOING IN!” screams Elie Mystal as he screeches up in a Power Wheels Jeep while waving around a purple and orange Nerf Kalashnikov. The chaos is mostly imagined and we should treat it as such.

Six months ago, that’s what I would have said. These days, I’m not so sure.

There has been chatter about a second American civil war since approximately the first civil war, and mostly among conservatives. They’ve watched the left grow entrenched and imperialistic, imposing its inclusion ideology in schools, telling Trump supporters to leave blue states — and wondered whether there’s any hope for mediation. Trump, meanwhile, has as usual been stirring the pot until his rotator cuff goes flying off. And there has been real violence: the scrum in Charlottesville, the riots after George Floyd was killed, clashes in the streets between Proud Boys and Antifa, January 6.

The late political thinker Angelo Codevilla called this “a cold civil war,” and it seemed only a matter of time until it burned hot. Yet there was always an objection to be had here, namely that a cold civil war translated into American is just “politics.” This is not Scandinavia. Political debate here has always been a full-contact sport. Even the sainted 1990s, remembered today as a more innocent time, saw the infamous Waco raid, the Oklahoma City bombing, and a president accused of everything from perjury (yep) to rape (probably) to murder (that’s a negative, chief).

Why should today be any different? If anything, talk of a civil war seems like a kind of presentism, a sense of hysteria about the here and now unmoored from any historical context. Besides, aren’t we, as my friend Michael Davis has observed, too fat to fight a civil war? Don’t we have too many Insta accounts to maintain to possibly find the time to start butchering each other en masse? Bread and circuses are supposed to be a bad thing, but if they stop us from killing, then kick off NFL season early, say I.

The problem is that lately more omens have been appearing. For one, a new YouGov poll finds that 43 percent of Americans think it’s likely there will be a civil war in the next ten years. Clearly this isn’t just a bugaboo of overcaffeinated elites. For another, a Washington Post poll finds that only 62 percent say political violence is never justified, a record low, down from 90 percent in the 1990s. So while American politics has often been fraught, today it is unusually fraught, perhaps even the most fraught it’s been since the 1850s (as some historians maintain).

For another, thanks to the latest political drama, you can now see how such a conflict might begin. The Justice Department decides to indict Donald Trump over his Florida documents caper. The left, being the left, insists that he’s a perp walked in front of the cameras. The images rile up his most dedicated supporters who warn of a poisoned justice system, a rogue FBI, an entire federal government under enemy occupation. A few at the fringe decide it’s time to refresh the tree of liberty. The government responds with force of its own. And off we go.

Yet the most worrying sign of all was Joe Biden’s speech last week. Broadcast from the deck of a Star Destroyer or wherever the hell he was, much has been made about its ludicrous backdrop — the silhouetted Marines, the red glow. And surely there are no accidents in American politics, not in this age where every politician employs a battalion of image consultants. The imagery was intentional, a message to Republicans: you’re worried about a tyrannical government? Keep going and you’ll get one. That plus the language he used (MAGA is “a threat to this country”) made this not just a tough speech but a martial one.

The import of this can’t be understated: here was an escalation by the most powerful man on earth. Biden just contributed his own chapter to the civil war narrative.

So are we doomed to civil conflict? Over Labor Day weekend, I had the chance to visit family in a small town in Pennsylvania. Their neighborhood is on the up and up, with new houses being built and new families moving in, including a striking number of immigrants from Nepal. The kids play in the streets, chasing each other and riding bikes, while the adults chat, amiably discussing the culture divide: why do the Nepalese cook in their garages anyway? Amid all the friendliness, you can’t help but notice something: these people are not bludgeoning each other to death over the classification stamps on folders at Mar-a-Lago. They aren’t even impaling each other over the systemic racism of Hulu user settings.

Experiences like this can make you squint: is this picture of Americana the real world? Or is the very-online darkness slowly bleeding even into the most tranquil of scenes? There is, after all, all the difference in the world between telling a pollster there could be a civil war and actually fighting one. All we can do is put our hope in what remains so good about this country, even if the unthinkable seems more plausible than it should.

Teresa Mull:

The number of Americans who believe in God has reached an all-time low, according to a Gallup survey that’s been tracking our nation’s “values and beliefs” since 1944.

For a God fearin’ woman such as myself, it’s a disheartening statistic. But we are told never to abandon hope, and recent events — the Supreme Court rulings against abortion and in favor of prayer, a million swing voters switching their registrations to Republican, Keeping Up with the Kardashians finally airing its last season — betoken a more God-centered future.

Gallup reports:

The Wall Street Journal:

Democrats denounced Donald Trump as a dictator for invoking emergency powers to build his border wall after he was blocked in Congress. Well, now they’re demanding that President Biden declare climate change a national emergency to advance their anti-carbon agenda that Congress won’t pass. Apparently dictators are in the eye of the beholder.

Progressives are furious at West Virginia Sen. Joe Manchin for scuttling a big climate spending bill. “With legislative climate options now closed, it’s now time for executive Beast Mode,” Rhode Island Sen. Sheldon Whitehouse tweeted last week. And now the White House is leaking that the President may declare a national climate emergency as soon as this week.

This would be an even greater abuse of power than Mr. Trump’s repurposing of military funds for the border wall. We criticized Mr. Trump at the time and warned that a Democratic President might use the precedent to declare a climate emergency. And here we are.

While a President may sometimes need to act with dispatch during an emergency, climate change isn’t close to such an event. Climate change is neither sudden nor unexpected. The world has warmed by 1.1 degree Celsius since the late 19th century, and the pace of future warming is uncertain and depends on multiple variables.

In any case, nothing progressives want Mr. Biden to do will affect the climate or even reduce global CO2 emissions. China and India will continue to build coal plants that offset all of the West’s climate sacrifices.

But that isn’t stopping progressives from demanding that Mr. Biden roll over the Constitution’s separation of powers. One irony is that Congress passed the National Emergencies Act of 1976 to limit abuses of executive power. The law requires the President to activate his powers under one of 130 or so statutes that authorize emergency actions.

Here are some of the ways progressives now want Mr. Biden to impose his climate agenda without democratic assent:

• Halt oil exports. A 2015 legislative compromise by Barack Obama and Paul Ryan lifted the decades-old ban on crude exports in return for extending green-energy tax credits. This helped unleash U.S. oil production, especially in the Permian basin.

Progressives want to end shale fracking. But banning U.S. exports would drive up global oil prices, and the U.S. would still have to import refined products and crude to meet demand. In the name of meeting a climate emergency, they’d create a bigger energy emergency.

• Stop oil and gas drilling in the outer continental shelf. Mr. Biden has already imposed a de facto moratorium on new offshore leases, but progressives want him to suspend existing leases. This would reduce U.S. production by about 1.8 million barrels a day—about two to three times as much as Russian output has declined owing to Western sanctions.

Progressives want Mr. Biden to self-sanction the U.S. oil and gas industry while they prod him to lift sanctions on Venezuela and Iran. Canceling active leases would abrogate contracts and presumably require compensation, which would require money from Congress.

• Use the Defense Production Act to build green energy. This Cold War-era law lets the President marshall domestic industry for national security. Mr. Biden has already invoked the DPA to boost manufacturing of solar panels, lithium-ion batteries and heat pumps.

While Mr. Biden could try to command manufacturers to make more green products, logistical snags would abound. Auto makers couldn’t easily convert factories into making solar panels or even electric vehicles. A shortage of critical minerals such as cobalt and lithium would also limit production, and it takes years to develop new mines.

• Repurpose funds as Mr. Trump did.The climate left wants Mr. Biden to use funds for disaster relief or military construction to build green energy systems. Americans whose homes are destroyed in wildfires or hurricanes won’t be happy if Mr. Biden raids disaster funds to build solar plants.

The most serious harm with all this would be to the rule of law. The Supreme Court in its landmark Youngstown Steel (1952) decision blocked Harry Truman’s attempt to nationalize steel mills during the Korean War. Justice Robert Jackson famously explained in his concurrence that a President’s authority is “at its maximum” when he “acts pursuant to an express or implied authorization of Congress,” while it’s weaker when acting “in the absence of a congressional grant or denial of authority.”

Declaring a climate emergency would flagrantly circumvent Congress. The President may do it anyway. But thanks to the High Court’s recent West Virginia v. EPA decision, lower courts will be well-equipped to decapitate the executive beast.

Michael Smith:

The Tampa Bay Times:

On the day before the big game, one of the team owners is wearing an old Packers T-shirt with camouflage shorts. He’s behind the bar pouring beers, wiping the counter and filling bowls with peanuts.

Heaven knows if Marty Leonhard was serving any of his fellow Packers shareholders inside Lenny’s Tap on Saturday. There were 16 people in the bar at 11 a.m. and, statistically speaking, the odds were good that at least one of those morning drinkers also had stock in the team.

This may be a hard concept to grasp in Tampa Bay where stadiums are built — or not — only after years of nasty public debate. But folks around Green Bay willingly toss their money into a proverbial hat to make sure their stadium is competitive and their team stays put.

The Bucs’ opponent in Sunday’s NFC Championship Game is the only not-for-profit franchise in major-league sports in America. In a city with a population just over 100,000, the Packers are owned by 361,311 shareholders. The stock, by the way, pays no dividends and cannot be resold.

It’s been made available only five times in the past 97 years — the last time was in 2011 at $250 a share — and prospective buyers are warned their certificates hold virtually no monetary value. The stock exists only to provide a financial lifeline for the Packers and to give the community a sense of ownership in the team.
Which, around here, makes it priceless.

To me, my certificate is just another piece of Packers art. It’s no different than hanging a picture of Aaron Rodgers on the wall,” said Leonhard, whose family has owned Lenny’s Tap for 45 years and who bought his stock in 1997. “It’s the only game in town. Yeah, we have the Wisconsin Badgers and the Bucks and Brewers. But this is it in Green Bay.

“And if you own a little piece of the team, some people get to walk around like they’re one of the bosses.”

In terms of population, Green Bay is almost identical to Brandon [Florida]. The major difference being Green Bay has 13 NFL championships and 26 Hall of Famers. This is what you would get if the New York Yankees were, say, the Topeka Yankees.

Other fan bases may be just as rabid, just as loyal, but none share the same romance of a blue-collar town and its team that always seemed on the verge of bankruptcy before Vince Lombardi showed up. And few other major-league cities could duplicate the same small-town feel.

“It’s a big-league team in little town America, and I don’t think you’ll ever see another one like it. The money has grown too much in sports,” said retired University of Wisconsin-Green Bay professor Daniel Alesch, who was commissioned by the Wisconsin Policy Research Institute to write a white paper on the uniqueness of the relationship. “It really is a love affair between a team and a community.”
It wasn’t unusual in the 1960s and 1970s to see Packers players shopping at the grocer on the corner, or picking up their kids from school. Fans would run into players all around town and, to hear the natives tell it, no one ever complained.

Irene Fennell was still in elementary school in the late 1960s when her 10-year-old brother, Doug, got a copy of a Bart Starr biography. One of the older Fennell children piled his siblings in the car and they drove to the house of the Packers quarterback.

“While the rest of us sat in the car, Doug went up and knocked on the door,” Fennell said. “They invited him right in the house, gave him cookies and a drink and Bart signed his book for him. When Doug said he had five brothers and sisters, they got out pieces of paper and signed autographs for each of us with, you know, ‘Warm wishes’ from Bart Starr. That was Green Bay.”

And the rest of the kids waited in the car the whole time Doug was alone in the house?

“Well, we didn’t all want to knock on the door,” she said. “That would be rude.”

The Green Bay Press-Gazette recently ran a feature remembering locals who passed away due to COVID-19. Each resident was memorialized with a paragraph or two, highlighting significant details of their lives. It was noted that one gentleman was married for 57 years, was a math teacher and died while still on the Packers season ticket waiting list.

Around here, the waiting list is simultaneously loathed and revered. Since 1960, Packer games have sold out at Lambeau Field, leaving unlucky fans searching for tickets in the newspaper and on street corners in previous generations, and through ticket brokers and the Internet in recent years. At last count, the waiting list was more than 137,000 long and only a few hundred season tickets come open each year.

When his son was born, Jeff Ash thought it would be a hoot to put Evan’s name on the season ticket list. That was 26 years ago. Every year, the Packers send a postcard to let him know his current spot on the waiting list.

“I moved to Green Bay in 1980 and I wish had I put myself on the list back then because I might just be receiving season tickets now 40 years later,” Ash said. “Somebody signing up today? The list is so much bigger, you’re not going to get tickets in your lifetime.”

Yet it doesn’t deter the fanaticism.

“The schedule comes out in April, and everybody commits it to memory. Your friend may call and say, ‘Hey, we’re getting married October 15.′ ‘Oh, sorry, the Packers have the Vikings that week,’” said Corey Vann, who manages the Hagemeister Park bar. “You go to a liquor store 15 minutes before a game and there’s 100 people buying beer. Once the game kicks off, there’s nobody around. It’s what we do.”

It’s a short walk from the Lambeau Field locker room to the team’s practice field and, for decades, kids have risen before dawn on the first day of training camp to secure a job as an unofficial bike buddy during the summer. The bicycle is turned over to the player, and the child runs alongside with the player’s helmet in hand, or rides on pegs attached to the back tire.

John Gee was a middle school student who had just moved to Green Bay from California in 2005. He convinced another player to pass the word to Aaron Rodgers that he was waiting for the rookie quarterback from the University of California to arrive after a brief contract dispute. When Rodgers walked out of the locker room for his first day as Packer, Gee was waiting with a Cal baseball cap on.

“I was kind of shy growing up and wasn’t the most popular kid because I had just moved to Wisconsin,” said Gee, who is now 28 and a real estate agent back in California. “Aaron would ask me questions to get me to open up. We talked about California, video games, football, music. I tried to get him to check out some metal bands that maybe he didn’t know about. We found common ground with the Foo Fighters.”

For the next three years, they rode together before and after every training camp practice. Suddenly, the shy kid from California had the Packers’ first-round draft pick showing up to watch him play his middle school football games.

By 2008, Rodgers had replaced Brett Favre as the starting quarterback and the Packers deemed it a security risk to have him riding a bicycle across the Lambeau Field parking lot, so Gee was out of a job. Still, their relationship did not end.

“We got together for one last ride the following year, which would have been my junior or senior year. He had already been the starter for a year at that point, but he reached out to me and said, ‘Hey, you want to take one last ride together?’” Gee said. “It’s a difficult thing to conceptualize as a kid but I’ve thought about it a lot over the years and it really is a unique thing. It’s been around since the Lombardi years and there’s really nothing quite like it. You almost feel like you’re part of history.”

Named for the Indian Meat Packing Company in 1919, the franchise would not exist today were it not for the community coming through with the first two stock sales in 1923 and 1935. Conversely, the town of Green Bay would be as anonymous as Sheboygan were it not for the Packers.

It’s not as if it were easy. If it were, the Frankford Yellow Jackets, Akron Indians and Duluth Kelleys would still be in the NFL. It works only because the community was willing to invest, and the franchise consistently won.

And as evolution turned the NFL into a league of bigger and bigger cities, the mystique of Green Bay grew more and more around the nation.

“That small-town story line is how they built interest going back to the 1920s when they started slaying the Bears and the Giants,” said Cliff Christl, the team’s official historian. “A lot of people in small-town America closely identify with the Packers.

“When I first went to work for the team, I told them this is the greatest story in sports. It’s that romance of the team surviving against all odds and then becoming the most successful franchise in the NFL.”

George Mitchell, who is not one to engage in conspiracy theories:

President Trump questions whether the election results are legit. I have zero idea if he is correct. Only hard evidence matters. But context also matters. In the last four plus years his opponents and the swamp tried to rig/overturn an election. They conjured up the phony collusion narrative. They impeached him for doing what we now know Joe Biden did. So how far fetched is it to think something is amiss … again?