Before I explain why I’m asking you to support us here at National Review during our spring webathon, I’ve got to ask: Have you seen the most symbolic photograph of the year yet? Iconography matters in politics, after all. The enduring political image of 2024 is surely destined to be that of Donald Trump, bleeding from a bullet wound, throwing a fiercely determined fist pump to the crowd in Butler, Pa. — a snapshot of defiance that crystallized the zeitgeist of the moment.
By the same token, I suspect that 2025’s enduring political image will be that of poor Gretchen Whitmer. The Michigan governor, in town for what she believed to be a private one-on-one meeting with President Trump, was instead ambushed with a full-fledged press avail in the Oval Office. (A dirty trick on the part of Trump? Of course it was, but then what did you expect from a man who can’t stop reciting “The Snake” at campaign rallies?)
Whitmer’s response to being bushwhacked by a New York Times photographer was to behave like a small child hiding from imaginary monsters: Clutching her briefing folders high and tight to shield her face from the cameras as her young aides stood beside her — one giving the ironic side-eye, the other fixing the lens with an admirably steely gaze — the two-term governor displayed all the self-possession of a frightened squirrel. “I don’t see you so you don’t exist and I was never here” didn’t work on the playground back in elementary school and, as it turns out, doesn’t work in politics either. (She will not be president.)
It is the image of the year to date, a delightfully pathetic epitome of the hilariously confused current state of the Democratic Party, but it is more than that. It is the visual summary of our political discourse during an era of American flux as well: hiding from reality, afraid to look it in the eye in the hopes it will simply disappear if ignored.
We refuse to do that at National Review. We never look away. This is important. It is a discipline; as one who lived his life as a reader (and not a writer) up until two years ago, I can assure you that it is in fact arguably unique. Will you support us? We fight to defend and advance conservative principles, not to participate in team sport. We are pugnacious about it; we evaluate the world honestly and pitilessly, without averting our gaze. We make the hard calls — not because they are hard, but because they are right. And when we fight, we know we do not fight alone. We need you too.
It has been a rough few weeks in the markets. Everybody wonders where the economy may be headed. And look, I’ll be honest: As hilarious as the idea of “BuckleyCoin” might be, National Review doesn’t seem likely to be entering the world of crypto anytime soon. Instead, we rely upon you, the readers, to assist us. We are striving to reach the goal of $150,000 in donations. We’re almost there. Every dollar counts (they count more in bulk, as it turns out). So if you care about conservative fearlessness — both words, with equal emphasis — and if you have anything left to spare after calculating your taxes, I’m frankly unembarrassed to ask you to donate it to the webathon. Thank you!