For years, conservatives have claimed liberals are weaklings. Soft on defense. Soft on crime. In recent times, they have particularly mocked college campuses where students have called for “safe spaces” and for attention to be paid to microaggressions and triggering topics, and they have cited all this as a sign that lefties are unable to deal with the hard realities of life. But tables turn—and hypocrisies rise from the muck of disinformation and bad-faith politics. Soft on defense? The Republicans accepted—some even aided and abetted—Vladimir Putin’s attack on the 2016 election. Soft on crime? They have downplayed or disregarded a violent assault on hundreds of law enforcement officers at the US Capitol. And when it comes to safe spaces, they are now going so far as to create laws to protect their constituents from ideas they might find unsettling.

In Florida, GOP Gov. Ron DeSantis, perhaps the Trumpiest of the Trump wannabes, has championed legislation that would prohibit the state’s public schools and private businesses from making anyone "feel discomfort, guilt, anguish, or any other form of psychological distress on account of his or her race, color, sex, or national origin." This is a wide-ranging ban. Could a class about the Holocaust cause a student of German descent to feel anguished? What about assigning a book on the brutal relocation of the Seminoles from Florida? How might a reader feel learning that he or she now resides in a community built on land stolen from indigenous people? Discomfort would be appropriate. And consider an employee who makes racist or sexist jokes and is required to attend a training session in which he or she is compelled to consider the roots of this offensive behavior. That might create unease.

Of course, this measure—misnamed the Individual Freedom bill—is just another demagogic attempt by Republicans to exploit the orchestrated outrage over critical race theory, the concept (mainly taught at the college level) that race and racism are embedded in most institutions and societal structures. CRT is not mentioned in the bill. But DeSantis highlighted CRT when he announced the legislation last month and declared that this law would keep schools and workplaces free of CRT. (Last June, the Florida Department of Education banned the teaching of CRT in public schools.) He and his Republican comrades are using the drummed-up fear over CRT to set up a system in which anyone called out for racism, misogyny, or other bigotry—or anyone confronted with troubling history—can claim to be a victim. You’re making me feel bad for being white.

In Virginia, the newly inaugurated Republican Gov. Glenn Youngkin, on the opening day of his administration, signed a host of executive orders. The first he initiated banned the “use of inherently divisive concepts” in the state’s public schools. His order explicitly identified CRT as one such concept. Youngkin made sure to include reasonable rhetoric in the order: “We must enable our students to take risks, to think differently, to imagine, and to see conversations regarding art, science, and history as a place where they have a voice.” The order also notes, “We must equip our teachers to teach our students the entirety of our history—both good and bad,” including “the horrors of American slavery and segregation, and our country’s treatment of Native Americans.” But the order misrepresents CRT as “political indoctrination” that dictates what children think. (Reminder: CRT is not part of the K–12 curriculum.)

Youngkin’s executive order seeks to define an “inherently divisive concept” as one that evaluates a person on the basis of his or her “race, skin color, ethnicity, sex, or faith.” But it notes this is not exclusive. Other definitions could be claimed. So let’s look at Virginia’s recent past. During the gubernatorial contest, Youngkin ran an ad featuring an upset mother who talked about her son being assigned a book that contained “some of the most explicit material you can imagine.” The spot didn’t mention that her son at the time was a high school senior and the book was Toni Morrison’s classic Beloved, which most educators would deem appropriate for students that age. Presumably, this mom will have a different notion of “divisive” than others. Youngkin’s order will embolden folks like her to issue accusations of “inherently divisive concept” regarding all sorts of material. This executive order will be weaponized. Perhaps most damaging, educators who reasonably wish not to be caught in a cultural crossfire will avoid legitimate material that might be targeted as “divisive.” Would you want to end up in a negative attack ad?

In Florida, the no-discomfort bill was approved this past week by the state Senate’s GOP-controlled education committee on a six-to-three party-line vote. State Sen. Shevrin Jones, a Democrat on the committee and its only Black member, told CNN that the measure is an effort to revise history and prevent white people from feeling uncomfortable: "This isn't even a ban on Critical Race Theory, this is a ban on Black history. They are talking about not wanting white people to feel uncomfortable? Let's talk about being uncomfortable. My ancestors were uncomfortable when they were stripped away from their children."

The Florida and Georgia measures are the latest signs of the snowflake-ization of the conservative movement. It’s a racial manifestation of a right-wing goal: seeking protection from reality. Conservatives have long attacked political correctness and, more recently, cancel culture to delegitimize and escape criticism of bigotry, misogyny, homophobia, and other ills. They insist they believe in the marketplace of ideas, but when their notions are criticized, they often cry foul and complain they are being canceled or victimized by the thought police. With these latest initiatives, conservatives are trying to suppress critiques and ideas that challenge their self-serving views and efforts to define the narrative of the nation. (Look at how Donald Trump recently attempted to bolster the notion that white Americans are the real victims by falsely claiming Covid vaccinations were being denied to white people because of their race.) In a world shaped by racial, economic, and social conflicts, these conservatives don’t want to see such matters directly and honestly addressed, for that leads to an inconvenient question: What are we going to do about it?

Significant elements on the right have long been censorious and proponents of thought control. Banning books. Policing textbooks. Warring against the teaching of evolution. Now the target is CRT and anything that “discomforts.” The goal is to escape difficult discussions about past actions and present inequities. When it advances their ideological aims, conservatives are happy to drop the hammer on free thought and coddle those who can’t handle the truth.

Got anything to say about this item—or anything else? Email me at thisland@motherjones.com.

Would You Buy Cryptocurrency From This Man?

Alex Brandon/AP

A few weeks ago, an anonymous tipster sent me a piece of computer code and said that it showed there was something odd about Steve Bannon’s latest venture. Bannon and Boris Epshteyn, another Trump ally, had in December announced they were taking a “strategic ownership position” in a cryptocurrency called $FJB. That stands for F*** Joe Biden. Their hope obviously was to spur the MAGA community to buy up these coins, which presumably would bolster the value of their own holdings. On Bannon’s podcast, they pitched the $FJB token as a way to shoot Biden the finger, and Bannon even claimed that owning this currency would somehow protect you if a repressive government came after you with its goons. As part of the sales pitch, Bannon and Epshteyn also said that a piece of the 8 percent transaction fee would be donated to charities benefitting veterans and first responders.

As for the code, my colleague Ali Breland and I found several crypto experts to review it, and they informed us that my tipster was correct. There was something hinky: The code allows the currency’s operators to lock and unlock the coin for its individual owners. This could possibly prevent owners from selling their coins during a drop in its value. That is not customary. And it means that owners might not have full control of their holdings. Ali and I published a piece reporting this. It included a response from $FJB that didn’t directly address the locking issue but that claimed the currency was transparent. Which brings me to another important point: the donations. We asked Bannon and Epshteyn if they would disclose the names of the charities that are supposedly receiving a slice of the transaction fees being charged to purchasers of the coin. You might assume that Bannon would be particularly sensitive and prudent about this. After all, in 2020, he was arrested on charges of conspiracy to commit wire fraud and money laundering related to his role in a nonprofit that was raising money to build Trump’s border wall between Mexico and the United States. Prosecutors alleged that Bannon had siphoned $1 million out of the $25 million raised for his own personal use. The case was never resolved—he pleaded not guilty, but no trial ensued because Trump, on his last day in office, pardoned Bannon—but one might think this episode would prompt Bannon to be transparent about subsequent charitable endeavors. Well, no. The website for $FJB does not disclose the organizations that are being supported by the currency. And Bannon and Epshteyn did not respond to our request for a list.

The Watch, Read, and Listen List

Belfast. A feel-good movie about a civil war? In Belfast, Kenneth Branagh’s nostalgic, shot-in-black-and-white, fictionalized film memoir of his boyhood in the Troubles-ridden city, casts a romantic light on those difficult days. The movie centers on 9-year-old Buddy (Branagh as a youngster) and his Protestant family. It’s 1969, and they live on a street with Catholics who are being attacked and forced out of this low-income but rather pleasant neighborhood. His dad is a laborer who works jobs in London. His mom, who peels potatoes in beautiful, cascading sunlight, is long-suffering but patient enough. His grandparents are warm and wise. (Who wouldn’t want old codgers played by Judi Dench and Ciarán Hinds hanging around their flat?) There’s an anti-Catholic riot or two. Threats made against the family for not joining these attacks. A blockade set up that is patrolled by British soldiers. And increasing strife between dad and mom, with the tax man on their heels. But amid this conflict and unease, Buddy—played stunningly well by Jude Hill—is focused on the usual stuff: the cute (Catholic) girl in his class, going to the movies, and whether to nick candy from the local shop. I suppose one could knock Branagh for leaning into what was lovely about those days (which are made even lovelier by the ever-present Van Morrison songs on the soundtrack) and paying less heed to the ugly conflict and its deep-rooted causes. But this is his memory, and it’s hard to fault him for accentuating the positive in a trying time. At the heart of the film, there is a dilemma that must be faced. Buddy’s father has an offer—a good job, a good house—in England. But mom is hesitant to leave their home, their family, and what they know. She fears the English won’t accept them—won’t understand them with their accents. Isn’t it better to be with loved ones in an ugly situation than to become strangers in a strange and possibly unfriendly land? This is the tough call so many immigrants—so many Irish—have faced through the ages, and Branagh presents it simply and elegantly. Branagh’s (that is, Buddy’s) departure from Belfast is both sad and triumphant. But since we know how the story turned out, it certainly was the right move.

The Boy Named If, Elvis Costello. Elvis Costello is a wonderment. He entered the music world as an angry-young-man new-wave punker with My Aim Is True. It was an immediate success, and he subsequently poured out songs chock-full of riffs and stuffed with wry and biting lyrics, undergirded by a fierce pop sensibility. He snarled and he crooned. Six albums in four years. Then he produced a disc, Imperial Bedroom, with sophisticated melodies that earned comparisons to Cole Porter. He went on to explore and conquer a variety of styles, including country, releasing many more albums and collaborating along the way with Burt Bacharach, the Brodsky Quartet, Allen Toussaint, and the Roots. So many songs, so many words. He is a fountain that never stops. What makes his latest offering, The Boy Named If, the 32nd studio album of his career, so exciting is that you can hear in these new tracks traces of his past songs—“Pump It Up,” “Oliver’s Army,” “Accidents Will Happen,” Watching the Detectives,” “High Fidelity,” and so many others—without feeling you’re listening to retreads. These are not remakes but add-ons to his expansive catalogue that fully stand on their own. For a Costello fan, it’s an exhilarating collection. He breaks out the dulcet tones on “Paint the Red Rose Red.” “Magnificent Hurt” captures a familiar rough-edged driving sound punctuated by Steve Nieve’s always-captivating keyboard accents. “The Man You Love To Hate” has a Brechtian feel. Many of the tunes present vignettes that could serve as the impetus for a short story. And, in fact, Costello produced a book of short stories that tie into each song. Through these tunes and tales, he explores his favorite turf: a romantic view of cynical disillusionment. Occasionally, it gets much darker, as in “The Difference,” in which a woman sings, “My father shamed me just like you / Buried my name in a glass or two / Till he came to me in his darkest house / He mistook me, took me for his spouse / And my cries for a woman in the distance / So I took this knife to show him the difference.” In “My Most Beautiful Mistake,” Costello offers a noir-like pas de deux: “He made a portrait of her face out of burnt out matches / She said, "The trouble is, Sunshine, I know what the catch is / You'll offer me nothing, you'll offer me riches / I've seen your kind before in courtroom sketches.” What makes The Boy Named If delightful is that it reminds us of previous treasures while providing new ones.

Read Recent Issues of This Land

January 22, 2022: Readers speak out: How to save the republic from Republicans; Dumbass Comment of the Week; the Mailbag; MoxieCam™; and more.

January 19, 2022: Why the Democrats must yield to Manchin to keep the Trump cult from gaining power; gushing about The French Dispatch; a true-crime podcast with political and international significance; and more.

January 15, 2022: We’re all tired of Trump’s crazy, but it’s dangerous to ignore; Dumbass Comment of the Week (US Senate edition); the Mailbag; (a harrowing) MoxieCam™; and more.

January 11, 2022: My interview with Jamie Raskin about his son’s suicide, January 6, and the second Trump impeachment; Aaron Sorkin’s one big mistake in Being the Ricardos; Slow Burn’s look back at the LA riots; and more.

January 8, 2022: It’s time for Merrick Garland to reveal if the Justice Department is investigating Donald Trump; Dumbass Comment of the Week; the Mailbag; MoxieCam™; and more.

January 4, 2022: The lesson of January 6: Tragedy does not yield national unity; Ayman Mohyeldin’s impressive American Radical podcast; and more.

December 23, 2021: Farewell to a stupid year; Dumbass Comment of the Year; Mailbag, MoxieCam™; and more.

December 21, 2021: How the GOP is establishing political apartheid; Donald Trump’s most outrageous email, spending time with The Shrink Next Door; Susanna Hoffs’ delightful new album; and more.

December 18, 2021: Mark Meadows, the chief’s chief coup plotter; Dumbass Comment of the Week; the Mailbag, MoxieCam™; and more.

December 14, 2021: Denounce Julian Assange, don’t extradite him; why WandaVision is marvelous; hanging out with Neil Young and Crazy Horse in an old barn; and more.

December 11, 2021: Trump’s newest—and biggest—potential conflict of interest; Dumbass Comment of the Week (Tucker Carlson Edition); the Mailbag; MoxieCam™; and more.