Republicans kick off a gathering on Wednesday in Dallas billed by the Republican National Committee as the party’s first-ever midterm convention.
There is just one problem: No matter how often the RNC says it, it is not true.
This is not a convention of the whole Republican Party. It is what President Donald Trump’s own orbit and RNC officials, including Chairman Joe Gruters, have called it: “Trumpapalooza.” The name is revealing. A convention is supposed to conduct party business, choose nominees, approve a platform, or at least give delegates a meaningful role. This two-night spectacle is a glorified Trump rally wrapped in convention bunting.
In theory, a midterm convention is not a bad idea. Done right, it could give a party a forum to sharpen its message, elevate candidates in difficult races, and remind voters what congressional majorities can deliver. But this is not that. And not merely because Trump’s numbers are at an all-time low and Republican candidates in swing seats have every reason to keep some distance from the president.
The real problem is that this faux convention is a grift — one last chance by the RNC, state parties, and Trumpworld to extract money from donors and interest groups while Republicans still wield complete control of the executive and legislative branches. Absent a miracle, Republicans will almost certainly lose the majority in at least one chamber of Congress this fall. When that happens, the money now flowing into the party apparatus and Trump-aligned political action committees will become harder to command.
To get the RNC’s state parties on board, RNC and Trumpworld officials allowed state parties to sell access. Some state parties used transparent selection processes for “honorary delegates” and charged nominal administrative fees. Others sold access for $200,000.
Mind you, there are no votes at this convention, no nominees to select, and no platform to approve. There is literally no business of the convention. In 22 years of involvement in Republican politics, including attending every real Republican National Convention since 2004 in one capacity or another, I have never seen such a brazen cash-for-access scheme.
Worse, we may never know who paid what. Much of the money is flowing through state parties; some of those parties use accounts regulated by state campaign finance laws with widely varying disclosure requirements, while others use so-called dark-money vehicles with no meaningful disclosure at all.
Look, I am not naive enough to think money can be taken out of politics. Parties need resources. Candidates need support. Donors will always seek influence. My objection to Dallas is threefold.
First, this is simply not a real convention. At this point in the cycle, swing-seat Republican incumbents should be enrolled in incumbent protection and given the latitude to do whatever is necessary to keep their seats. Challengers in majority-deciding races need the same freedom to run campaigns tailored to their districts and states. It is possible “Trumpapalooza” will mobilize the MAGA base. It is just as possible it will tether vulnerable Republicans to a president many of their voters want to check.
Second, there are only so many donors who can write checks of six figures or more. Every dollar spent on vanity credentials and associated expenses, such as airfare and hospitality, is a dollar not spent directly for or against candidates. If the House or Senate is decided by a handful of seats, Republicans may regret diverting donor energy into a made-for-television pageant.
Third, if this racket succeeds, it will be replicated — starting with the real Republican National Convention in 2028. That should alarm the stalwarts who normally attend as delegates and alternate delegates. Most are not big donors. They are manning field offices, making calls, putting up yard signs, stuffing envelopes, canvassing door-to-door, and serving as apparatchiks on state and local party committees.
DEMOCRATS SUBSIDIZE IDLENESS. REPUBLICANS REWARD HARD WORK
For them, being a delegate or alternate delegate is often a once-in-a-lifetime honor. If state parties learn that credentials can be auctioned off, those stalwarts will be the first casualties.
A midterm convention could be useful. “Trumpapalooza” is not. It is a fundraising racket masquerading as a party gathering. Republicans should not pretend otherwise.
Dennis Lennox (@dennislennox) is a political commentator and public affairs consultant.