The Perfect Opposition

A Thought Experiment in Political Surrender

Look, counterfactual reasoning can be a very dangerous game. But, like thought experiments, they can be revealing. So I ask the question, given everything happening, if Chuck Schumer were controlled opposition would it look any different?

This is not a conspiracy theory. I am not suggesting Schumer is literally taking orders from Trump. What I'm proposing is a thought experiment—a lens through which to examine the functional consequences of Democratic leadership's decisions in this critical moment.

Consider the news out of Washington: Senate Democrats, led by Schumer, have decided to advance a Republican spending bill they openly acknowledge is “terrible” rather than risk a government shutdown. In a remarkable reversal from just 24 hours earlier—when he declared Democrats “unified” against the legislation—Schumer gathered enough votes to help Republicans overcome any potential filibuster from his own party.

His rationale? That a shutdown would only “empower Mr. Trump and Elon Musk in their bid to defund and dismantle federal programs” even further. It's a position that deserves serious examination.

If you were designing the perfect opposition to facilitate the consolidation of executive power—one that provides the appearance of resistance while ultimately enabling its advance—what would it look like? It would likely make forceful statements about the threats to democracy. It would marshal righteous indignation in speeches and press releases. But when confronted with moments of consequential choice, it would invariably find reasons why resistance is too risky, too politically costly, or simply impossible.

It would train its supporters to expect and accept defeat as the prudent choice.

The genius of this approach is how it transforms surrender into a form of responsibility. Those who advocate for more forceful opposition are cast as naive, reckless, or politically unsophisticated. The language of pragmatism becomes a shield against the charge of complicity.

Senator Mark Kelly captured this tortured logic perfectly: “That is a calculation I've been struggling with for days—weeks, in fact. It's a tough call, and that's why we spent a lot of time talking. That's one of the challenging things on either path: There's a lot of unknowns out there.” After this extensive deliberation, he concluded he would oppose the measure—a position that proved inconsequential once Schumer secured enough votes elsewhere.

This pattern—of vocal concern followed by practical acquiescence—has become so predictable that one wonders whether it serves a purpose beyond mere political ineffectiveness. It creates the comforting illusion that constitutional norms are being defended while simultaneously facilitating their erosion.

The question isn't whether Democrats like Schumer subjectively desire Trump's agenda to succeed. It's whether their approach to opposition produces outcomes functionally indistinguishable from what controlled opposition would produce.

Consider the impossible choice they've framed: either fund a government being systematically dismantled or enable a shutdown that would accelerate that dismantling. This binary ignores other potential paths of resistance—from aggressive oversight and investigations to public education campaigns that clarify the constitutional stakes for voters.

“We are intent on stymying and stopping the slide toward Trump's tyrannical and autocratic power, which is happening in real time and inflicting harm on real people,” said Senator Richard Blumenthal, who planned to vote against the spending bill. Yet even this statement accepts the premise that the options are limited to procedural maneuvers within a system already being transformed.

Two plus two equals four. There are twenty-four hours in a day. And opposition that consistently fails to oppose at moments of consequence is not opposition at all—regardless of the subjective intentions behind it.

This isn't about purity politics or demanding perfect outcomes in an imperfect world. It's about recognizing that when faced with systematic dismantling of constitutional governance, the traditional playbook of political compromise may actively facilitate rather than hinder that dismantling.

The perfect opposition in an era of democratic erosion would look exactly like this: perpetually concerned, occasionally outraged, but ultimately acquiescent to the new parameters of power being established around it. It would train its supporters to lower their expectations, to accept the managed decline of constitutional constraints as the best possible outcome.

If that sounds familiar, perhaps our thought experiment has served its purpose after all.