A MESSAGE FROM META

Mitch McConnell, the longtime Republican leader in the Senate, used to describe his erstwhile role as being that of chief spear catcher—the guy who protected his conference and its agenda from public attacks, primary threats, and Oval Office pressure. Indeed, McConnell’s preternatural ability to catch and disarm incoming ordnance earned him unprecedented support in the chamber—a mixture of admiration and pure fear that allowed the devout institutionalist to reign pretty much unchallenged during an era of populist upheaval. And yet these days, as McConnell has passed his dowry to John Thune and seems unlikely to seek reelection, the 82-year-old has morphed into an ornery rank-and-file senator with the ability to upend MAGA’s legislative agenda and torment his former tormenter, Donald Trump. In many ways, it’s a fitting final act. This week, the Senate is expected to vote on two of Trump’s most controversial nominees: Tulsi Gabbard as D.N.I., and Robert F. Kennedy Jr. to lead H.H.S. Both will likely be confirmed, now that two would-be defectors are falling in line: Senator Bill Cassidy, a physician, has said he’ll vote for Kennedy; meanwhile, Todd Young and Susan Collins will vote for Gabbard. But no one can say with any certainty what McConnell will do—and not just on how he’ll vote on Trump’s most odd-ball nominees. This enigma amplifies growing questions about how McConnell plans to spend his hard-earned, out-of-fucks-to-give twilight era. Once a relentless partisan, will he devote his platform to ensuring that the United States doesn’t decimate Western alliances and retreat from the world, thereby pitting himself against his president and a growing number of colleagues in his conference? And could it work?

A MESSAGE FROM META

Democratic Senator Tim Kaine told me he wasn’t surprised that McConnell voted against Pete Hegseth as SecDef, because “the guy had been rude and disrespectful to and about Mitch McConnell.” Yes, Hegseth had said during various media appearances that McConnell was protecting Biden, but I’m reliably told that McConnell’s opposition wasn’t personal—instead, it coalesced around his profound interest in U.S. national security and his belief that the former Fox News host was flagrantly unqualified to lead the most complicated government agency during tumultuous times. McConnell refused to meet with Hegseth during the months leading up to his confirmation vote, and he rebuffed a call from J.D. Vance when it momentarily seemed like Hegseth’s confirmation was in jeopardy. (In the end, the waffling Thom Tillis overcame his reservations.) “What would a meeting or a hearing or anything else change about your résumé?” one McConnell insider told me, explaining the senator’s decision to resist. As I reported last week, McConnell also hasn’t met with Gabbard or Kennedy, as is customary for senators. People close to McConnell aren’t sure how he’ll vote on either nominee, both of whom are likely to be confirmed regardless. In many ways, his beefs are personal. As a former member of the Gang of Eight—the group of congressional leaders who receive the most high-level intelligence briefings—McConnell still cares deeply about the national security apparatus, and he’s skeptical of Gabbard’s judgement to lead O.D.N.I. When R.F.K. Jr. said the polio vaccine killed more people than it saved, McConnell, a polio survivor, called his perspective “dangerous.” Susan Collins, one of McConnell’s closer friends in the Senate, specifically asked Kennedy about the polio vaccine at his confirmation hearing, with McConnell in mind.

Never a man of many words—he was once described as a pinto bean—McConnell attends nearly every Republican lunch meeting to remind his colleagues of the importance of defense spending. He speaks more often now than when he was leader, I’m told, and raises his hand to be called on, like the rest of the senators. A disciple of interventionism, he provides a historical perspective on the percentage of G.D.P. that the U.S. spends on defense, currently at a post-World War II low. There’s little personal loyalty to McConnell, an insular leader who siphoned power by taking it away from individual senators. But everyone agrees that he still has some influence in the conference, especially among the older generation of institutionalists. Whether he can hold sway on the defense issue will be one of the biggest tests of his controversial career. Instead of being the master partisan he was, he’s battling a popular president of his own party during a time when his ideas and belief system—stemming from his father’s service in World War II—can seem old fashioned and outdated, and more amenable to Democrats. McConnell and Trump haven’t spoken since December of 2020—in fact, he hasn’t uttered Trump’s name since the January 6 attack on the Capitol. (At the time, his wife, Elaine Chao, abruptly resigned from her position as Trump’s transportation secretary.) But, as we know, the party has been subsequently remade in Trump’s image, and McConnell played a significant role in that: He may have blamed Trump for the insurrection, but he stopped short of voting (or persuading others to vote) to convict Trump in his second impeachment trial. Recall that a conviction would have prevented Trump from running again. Instead, he gave a passionate speech that the legal system would take care of it. Of course, the conservative Supreme Court that McConnell essentially built, in large part by blocking Merrick Garland’s confirmation, ruled that a president is immune from prosecution for any official acts. That may be a crucial data point here. In The Price of Power, Michael Tackett’s biography of McConnell, the author quotes former senator Lamar Alexander as telling his subject, “You’ll always be remembered for the last thing you do.” Now McConnell is betting his legacy on preventing Trump and his Republican followers from shrinking America’s role in the world. As budget battles are gearing up and a faction of hardline Republicans are vowing to cut the defense budget, his first test will arrive very soon.