This is the simplest way to punch back at Trump's gaslighting

Illinois Governor JB Pritzker isn’t pulling any punches. On Tuesday, he gave a speech calling out Donald Trump and Stephen Miller’s fascist cosplay, their lies and distortions, and predicting federal troops will soon be on the streets of Chicago.

Pritzker came right out and said Trump is doing all this for his own wealth and power:

“None of this is about fighting crime or making Chicago safer. None of it. For Trump, it's about testing his power and producing a political drama to cover up for his corruption.”

Ominously, he added:

“Any rational person who has spent even the most minimal amount of time studying human history has to ask themselves one important question: Once they get the citizens of this nation comfortable with the current atrocities committed under the color of law, what comes next?”

Pretty much every time a nation tips toward authoritarianism — as America is doing today — there’s a strongman at the center of it.

The idea goes back at least to Thomas Carlyle, whose “Great Man” theory argued that history is the story of exceptional leaders whose charisma and force of will bent the times to their shape. From Napoleon to Hitler to Trump, we see the pattern over and over.

It’s no accident that Republicans have remade themselves into a cult built around one man whose sheer audacity and appetite for power dominates the news cycle and the national conversation. After all, as Malcolm X famously said, “A man who stands for nothing will fall for anything.” The GOP hasn’t stood for anything other than the interests of the morbidly rich for at least 44 years, so its base voters were sitting ducks for a demagogue with a good sales pitch.

It’s also no accident that Democrats appear, by contrast, weak and divided, a chorus without a soloist, trying to make an argument while their opponent simply shouts. In an age of television and social media this is an existential liability. If we’re going to stop today’s Trump-driven slide into fascism, Democrats must grapple directly with this reality and build an alternative form of charismatic leadership.

That does not mean mimicking Trump’s grotesque personality cult (although California Governor Gavin Newsom’s satire is spot-on and is working). The Democratic Party should not, and cannot, center itself around one authoritarian figure. But it does mean understanding that media is not neutral, that charisma matters, that the public imagination is moved more by spectacle and story than by policy papers.

If Democrats don’t field leaders who can seize the camera, hold attention, and embody a vision, then they’ll forever be fighting from behind while Trump and his enablers drown out every other sound.

Voters, after all, are human beings, not spreadsheets. They’re moved by the emotional gravity of people they trust, admire, or even fear. Republicans learned this long ago and built their machine around it. Democrats can no longer afford to pretend that calm reason, logic, and rational policies will carry the day without their own powerful messengers.

One way to answer this problem is to reject the premise that only one Great Man can command attention. Imagine instead a bench of great women and men, a shadow cabinet of governors, senators, and policy innovators who step into the spotlight issue by issue. Rather than waiting for one savior figure, Democrats could show the country that they have a team of giants ready to govern.

To show America not just one alternative to Trump but an entire government-in-waiting.

A practical way to operationalize this idea is to create a visible Democratic shadow cabinet, as I proposed back in May. In parliamentary systems, this is how opposition parties signal to the public that they are ready to govern: they line up ministers-in-waiting who mirror the actual cabinet and speak with authority on their issue areas.

Democrats could adapt this model by assigning leading governors and senators to clear portfolios and making them the public face of the fight.

Massachusetts Sen. Elizabeth Warren could take the economy, standing up every time Republicans peddle trickle-down nonsense. Michigan Gov. Gretchen Whitmer could own healthcare, drawing on her state's record of expanding coverage and protecting reproductive rights. Newsom could be the climate voice, touting California’s leadership on renewables and electric vehicles. Pritzker could hold the voting rights portfolio, a relentless reminder that democracy itself is under siege.

Each of these figures is already capable of commanding national attention, but the effect would multiply if the roles were coordinated and reinforced.

The press would know who to call on any issue, and Americans would see not a muddle of competing Democratic voices but a disciplined government-in-waiting.

Rapid responses, monthly press events, and consistent messaging would project competence and readiness in contrast to the chaos of Trumpism.

This is not just about communication strategy: it’s about showing the country that Democrats have the people, the policies, and the charisma to step in tomorrow if the public gives them the chance.

This idea is not unprecedented. In parliamentary systems, opposition parties have long organized “shadow cabinets” to show voters they’re ready to take power at a moment’s notice. In the UK, Labour and the Tories alike have named shadow ministers to every portfolio, each one responsible for criticizing the government and putting forward an alternative vision.

It works because it projects competence. Voters can see the depth of the bench, not just the figure at the top. In times of crisis, this has been decisive. When Winston Churchill rose to power, it was not only his charisma but the fact that the public knew there was a team of capable ministers around him that gave Britain confidence.

Democrats would do well to borrow this model and Americanize it. Instead of being a collection of individuals jostling for position, they could present themselves as a disciplined bloc with defined roles, each amplifying the other.

At the same time, Democrats must stop letting Washington gridlock define their image.

The truth is that blue states already govern some of the largest economies in the world. California, New York, Illinois, Washington, Michigan, and Massachusetts together represent a bloc of prosperity, innovation, and rights protection larger than most nations. By acting through interstate compacts and model laws, those states can prove that Democrats deliver even when Congress stalls.

Coordinated carbon markets, clean procurement policies, abortion shield laws, voting rights protections, and labor standards can all be advanced at the state level. This is how Canada built its national healthcare system, province by province until the federal government could no longer ignore it. It’s how the early American labor movement forced reforms onto the national stage.

Call it soft secession if you want, though the better term may be the Blue States Bloc. The message is simple: if Republicans sabotage governance in Washington, Democrats will show the country how it is done in the states. It’s strength, not retreat. It’s evidence, not just rhetoric.

This is where narrative judo becomes essential. Republicans — and the corporate media — paint Democrats as weak, divided, indecisive. Democrats must flip that story on its head.

They must say clearly: we lead together because we are a coalition, not a cult. They must remind Americans that our system was designed not for one man to dominate but for leaders to share power. They must repeat, over and over, that diversity is competence, that depth is resilience, that collective leadership is how democracy works.

Instead of apologizing for the absence of a single Great Man, Democrats can show that they have something better: a team of proven leaders, each charismatic in their own right, each capable of commanding attention when the issue is in their domain. This isn’t weakness; it’s the true antidote to authoritarianism.

History is filled with moments where the survival of democracy depended on whether its defenders could command attention with the same force as its enemies. In Weimar Germany, democrats ceded the stage to demagogues and paid the price. In Spain, anti-fascists failed to unify and lost to Franco.

In contrast, during the Maidan revolution in Ukraine, leaders rose from the crowd and became the visible face of resistance, embodying the movement in a way that gave courage to millions. We shouldn’t kid ourselves: Americans are living through the same sort of crisis. The question is whether Democrats can find the discipline to project strength and charisma in time.

And when the time comes to choose a presidential ticket in 2028, that choice should be the culmination of years of visible leadership, not a scramble at the last minute. A Pritzker-Newsom ticket, or some other pairing of governors who have already shown themselves as national executives-in-training, would make the case that Democrats are ready to scale up.

Their record in the states would become the national campaign platform. Jobs growth, climate leadership, healthcare expansion, protection of rights: all would be proof points. They wouldn’t have to argue in the abstract. They could simply say: “We already govern like a nation. Now we’ll do it for the whole country.”

None of this will happen by accident.

Democrats must choose to stop ceding the stage to Trump. They must stop assuming that reason alone will defeat spectacle. They must understand that media is the battlefield now, that charisma is not optional, that in an era of constant feeds and fragmented attention the messenger is as critical as the message.

And they must realize that the perception of weakness is fatal. Authoritarians thrive when their opponents look uncertain, divided, and unready. “Strongly worded letters” are fuel for them. The only way to blunt Trump’s charisma is with charisma of our own, wielded not by one savior but by a disciplined coalition that embodies both competence and passion.

Carlyle was wrong to think that history is only made by solitary Great Men. History is also made by movements, by coalitions, by generations who decide they will not be ruled by a tyrant.

But Carlyle was right about one thing: people follow leaders they can see and believe in. If Democrats want to save this republic from sliding into fascism, they must stop hiding their leaders and start elevating them, not in dribs and drabs but as a chorus of commanding voices.

Trump’s cult of personality isn’t the only way charisma can work. It can also be the charisma of democracy itself, embodied in leaders who respect the people, who work together, and who are ready to govern.

And they must begin now. Not in 2027 when the next campaign is already underway, not in 2028 when it’ll be too late, but today. Governors, senators, mayors, party leaders must convene, assign portfolios, step into the spotlight, and begin the disciplined work of shaping the public imagination.

Because if Democrats don’t seize this moment and fill the stage with our own chorus of leaders, Trump will fill it for us, and America will be left with nothing but the hollow echo of one man’s ambition.

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