Maurizio Valsania, Università di Torino

The portrait of President Andrew Jackson has recently made a comeback in the Oval Office. “Old Hickory” – Jackson’s nickname – has long been a favorite of President Donald Trump.

Trump identifies with Jackson on many levels. As a man and a leader, he likes the brash, confrontational, hypermasculine, lionlike attitude that characterized the seventh president. Jackson pushed executive power to the limits, just like Trump tries to do.

And there is a commonality of philosophical and political visions. The two tap into the same definition of freedom. They both believe the president has freedom from all restraint and from every form of legislative or judicial control.

However, differences exist between the two that might prompt Trump to consider the potential danger of how he governs and whom he listens to.

Personal loyalty and devotion

As an expert on American presidents, I can state with confidence that Trump is not the first to insist on complete obedience from his subordinates. Nor is he the first to take disagreement personally.

Trump’s attempt to create an army of sycophants, along with his effort to purge government staff he deems disloyal, is nothing new in America.

Personal loyalty and devotion were important to Andrew Jackson, who didn’t trust human nature. But he was steadfast in his trust, once he decided to place it in a person.

When Jackson had to choose his advisers and shape his first Cabinet, he relied on cronies from his beloved Tennessee – plus a handful of relatives.

The most famous and infamous of those chums was John H. Eaton. Eaton had developed a brotherly relationship with Jackson. Jackson felt indebted to him because Eaton had run his presidential campaigns of 1824 and 1828. Eaton would become secretary of war, but he also ended up embarrassing the president.

First off, he had an affair with a married woman, Margaret O’Neale Timberlake, whose husband was often at sea. When in 1828 Mr. Timberlake died abroad, rumor spread that he had slashed his own throat because of Margaret’s infidelity.

In Washington, D.C., gossip soon became ugly about what was known as the Eaton Affair. It ultimately led to the resignation of some Cabinet officials.

Jackson was irate. He had always realized he didn’t belong in the elite society of Washington, D.C. He was too self-conscious about his entire persona and too aware that he was perceived as an interloper. Consequently, he usually reacted defensively and often violently, thus betraying insecurity: “Our society wants purging here,” he wrote to one of his friends in 1829.

Under the same roof

Jackson’s clan lived with him in the White House. There was Andrew Jackson Jr., a nephew and his adopted son. Andrew Jr. would inherit a huge fortune, but he would die in debt. It’s no surprise that historians have described him as “irresponsible and ambitionless, a considerable disappointment to his father.”

There was Andrew Jackson Donelson and his wife, Emily. Donelson was the nephew of the just-deceased wife of the president, Rachel Jackson, who tragically died just days after her husband won the 1828 election. Donelson had served with Jackson in the Florida War – known as the First Seminole War – and later became his private secretary. Emily Donelson would act as the president’s hostess in the White House.

Another close friend from Tennessee, Maj. William B. Lewis, also moved into the White House. Also a presidential adviser, Lewis gained the official title of second auditor of the Treasury. But the Donelsons couldn’t stand the man. Emily Donelson would eventually label him a “sycophant” who had seized an opportunity to “save himself all expense.”

As he shaped his first Cabinet, Jackson consistently ignored the suggestions coming from the two higher-profile characters of his administration, Martin Van Buren and John C. Calhoun. It wasn’t just an ideological difference; it was that neither of them had been early Jackson men.

Surrounded by a few favorites

Jackson, the president who made no secret that he was running a one-man show, had a presidential style derived from his military experience. As a general, Jackson rarely summoned councils of war. When he had to decide on a given course of action, he didn’t share responsibility.

But critics saw things in a totally different way. In the spring of 1831, Sen. George Poindexter, a hesitant Jacksonian, complained that Jackson was “surrounded by a few favorites who controlled and directed all things.”

To describe the informal group of friends, family members and advisers whom they believed maintained too great an influence over the president, the opposition coined the phrase “kitchen cabinet.”

But the opposition’s image of the “kitchen cabinet” was not the reality. No matter his personal quirks, Jackson proved to be an excellent administrator. And contrary to Emily Donelson’s fears, he resisted sycophants and self-interested counselors.

A builder, not a destroyer

Jackson escaped manipulation because he managed to keep his eyes on his higher goal, the expansionist idea of the American nation.

He sought to create a blueprint for a government that would outlast him. He enacted impersonal rules that were sustained by elaborate systems of checks and balances. Whether you like him or not, Jackson was a builder, not a destroyer, of administrations.

The circumstances of the Jackson and Trump presidencies might look similar, but the key is that they are two very different men. Both wanted to fully reform the federal government, faced scandal, felt like an outsider in Washington, D.C., and had all sorts of close loyalists around pushing their agendas.

But Jackson didn’t get distracted. So he was not a useful puppet for those who sought to exploit him that way.

By contrast, it will be difficult for Trump to morph into President Jackson. Since the 1970s, the power of unelected and unconfirmed presidential aides and counselors has become more intense.

These individuals may easily end up negotiating deals or directing the course of events while escaping both congressional oversight and public scrutiny.

In their unaccountable influence, they are joined by major donors to a president’s campaign or causes.

There’s no doubt that they are a potential liability more dangerous than Jackson’s sycophants, more problematic than his cronies, more embarrassing than his wacky nephews.

Maurizio Valsania, Professor of American History, Università di Torino

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Colin Gordon, University of Iowa

For much of the 20th century, efforts to remake government were driven by a progressive desire to make the government work for regular Americans, including the New Deal and the Great Society reforms.

But they also met a conservative backlash seeking to rein back government as a source of security for working Americans and realign it with the interests of private business. That backlash is the central thread of the Heritage Foundation’s “Project 2025” blueprint for a second Trump Administration.

Alternatively disavowed and embraced by President Donald Trump during his 2024 campaign, Project 2025 is a collection of conservative policy proposals – many written by veterans of his first administration. It echoes similar projects, both liberal and conservative, setting out a bold agenda for a new administration.

But Project 2025 does so with particular detail and urgency, hoping to galvanize dramatic change before the midterm elections in 2026. As its foreword warns: “Conservatives have just two years and one shot to get this right.”

The standard for a transformational “100 days” – a much-used reference point for evaluating an administration – belongs to the first administration of Franklin D. Roosevelt.

Social reforms and FDR

In 1933, in the depths of the Great Depression, Roosevelt faced a nation in which business activity had stalled, nearly a third of the workforce was unemployed, and economic misery and unrest were widespread.

But Roosevelt’s so-called “New Deal” unfolded less as a grand plan to combat the Depression than as a scramble of policy experimentation.

Roosevelt did not campaign on what would become the New Deal’s singular achievements, which included expansive relief programs, subsidies for farmers, financial reforms, the Social Security system, the minimum wage and federal protection of workers’ rights.

Those achievements came haltingly after two years of frustrated or ineffective policymaking. And those achievements rested less on Roosevelt’s political vision than on the political mobilization and demands made by American workers.

A generation later, another wave of social reforms unfolded in similar fashion. This time it was not general economic misery that spurred actions, but the persistence of inequality – especially racial inequality – in an otherwise prosperous time.

LBJ’s Great Society

President Lyndon B. Johnson’s Great Society programs declared a war on poverty and, toward that end, introduced a raft of new federal initiatives in urban, education and civil rights.

These included the provision of medical care for the poor and older people via Medicaid and Medicare, a dramatic expansion of federal aid for K-12 education, and landmark voting rights and civil rights legislation.

As with the New Deal, the substance of these policies rested less with national policy designs than with the aspirations and mobilization of the era’s social movements.

Resistance to policy change

Since the 1930s, conservative policy agendas have largely taken the form of reactions to the New Deal and the Great Society.

The central message has routinely been that “big government” has overstepped its bounds and trampled individual rights, and that the architects of those reforms are not just misguided but treasonous. Project 2025, in this respect, promises not just a political right turn but to “defeat the anti-American left.”

After the 1946 midterm elections, congressional Republicans struck back at the New Deal. Drawing on business opposition to the New Deal, popular discontent with postwar inflation, and common cause with Southern Democrats, they stemmed efforts to expand the New Deal, gutting a full employment proposal and defeating national health insurance.

They struck back at organized labor with the 1947 Taft-Hartley Act, which undercut federal law by allowing states to pass anti-union “right to work” laws. And they launched an infamous anti-communist purge of the civil service, which forced nearly 15,000 people out of government jobs.

In 1971, the U.S. Chamber of Commerce commissioned Lewis Powell – who would be appointed by Republican President Richard Nixon to the Supreme Court the next year – to assess the political landscape. Powell’s memorandum characterized the political climate at the dawn of the 1970s – including both Great Society programs and the anti-war and Civil Rights movements of the 1960s – as nothing less than an “attack on the free enterprise system.”

In a preview of current U.S. politics, Powell’s memorandum devoted special attention to a disquieting “chorus of criticism” coming from “the perfectly respectable elements of society: from the college campus, the pulpit, the media, the intellectual and literary journals, the arts and sciences, and from politicians.”

Powell characterized the social policies of the New Deal and Great Society as “socialism or some sort of statism” and advocated the elevation of business interests and business priorities to the center of American political life.

Building a conservative infrastructure

Powell captured the conservative zeitgeist at the onset of what would become a long and decisive right turn in American politics. More importantly, it helped galvanize the creation of a conservative infrastructure – in the courts, in the policy world, in universities and in the media – to push back against that “chorus of criticism.”

This political shift would yield an array of organizations and initiatives, including the political mobilization of business, best represented by the emergence of the Koch brothers and the powerful libertarian conservative political advocacy group they founded, known as Americans for Prosperity. It also yielded a new wave of conservative voices on radio and television and a raft of right-wing policy shops and think tanks – including the Heritage Foundation, creator of Project 2025.

In national politics, the conservative resurgence achieved full expression in President Ronald Reagan’s 1980 campaign. The “Reagan Revolution” united economic and social conservatives around the central goal of dismantling what was left of the New Deal and Great Society.

Powell’s triumph was evident across the policy landscape. Reagan gutted social programs, declared war on organized labor, pared back economic and social regulations – or declined to enforce them – and slashed taxes on business and the wealthy.

Publicly, the Reagan administration argued that tax cuts would pay for themselves, with the lower rates offset by economic growth. Privately, it didn’t matter: Either growth would sustain revenues, or the resulting budgetary hole could be used to “starve the beast” and justify further program cuts.

Reagan’s vision, and its shaky fiscal logic, were reasserted in the “Contract with America” proposed by congressional Republicans after their gains in the 1994 midterm elections.

This declaration of principles proposed deep cuts to social programs alongside tax breaks for business. It was perhaps most notable for encouraging the Clinton administration to pass the Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Act of 1996, “ending welfare as we know it,” as Clinton promised.

Aiming at the ‘deep state’

Project 2025, the latest in this series of blueprints for dramatic change, draws most deeply on two of those plans.

As in the congressional purges of 1940s, it takes aim not just at policy but at the civil servants – Trump’s “deep state” – who administer it.

In the wake of World War II, the charge was that feckless bureaucrats served Soviet masters. Today, Project 2025 aims to “bring the Administrative State to heel, and in the process defang and defund the woke culture warriors who have infiltrated every last institution in America.”

As in the 1971 Powell memorandum, Project 2025 promises to mobilize business power; to “champion the dynamic genius of free enterprise against the grim miseries of elite-directed socialism.”

Whatever their source – party platforms, congressional bomb-throwers, think tanks, private interests – the success or failure of these blueprints rested not on their vision or popular appeal but on the political power that accompanied them. The New Deal and Great Society gained momentum and meaning from the social movements that shaped their agendas and held them to account.

The lineage of conservative responses has been largely an assertion of business power. Whatever populist trappings the second Trump administration may possess, the bottom line of the conservative cultural and political agenda in 2025 is to dismantle what is left of the New Deal or the Great Society, and to defend unfettered “free enterprise” against critics and alternatives.

Colin Gordon, Professor of History, University of Iowa

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Randolph Hubach, Purdue University and Cody Mullen, Purdue University

Rural America faces many challenges that Congress and the federal government could help alleviate under the new Trump administration.

Rural hospitals and their obstetrics wards have been closing at a rapid pace, leaving rural residents traveling farther for health care. Affordable housing is increasingly hard to find in rural communities, where pay is often lower and poverty higher than average. Land ownership is changing, leaving more communities with outsiders wielding influence over their local resources.

As experts in rural health and policy at the Center for Rural and Migrant Health at Purdue University, we work with people across the United States to build resilient rural communities.

Here are some ways we believe the Trump administration could work with Congress to boost these communities’ health and economies.

1. Rural health care access

One of the greatest challenges to rural health care is its vulnerability to shifts in policy and funding cuts because of rural areas’ high rates of Medicare and Medicaid beneficiaries.

About 25% of rural residents rely on Medicaid, a federal program that provides health insurance for low-income residents. A disproportionate share of Medicare beneficiaries – people over 65 who receive federal health coverage – also live in rural areas. At the same time, the average health of rural residents lags the nation as a whole.

Rural clinics and hospitals

Funding from those federal programs affects rural hospitals, and rural hospitals are struggling.

Nearly half of rural hospitals operate in the red today, and over 170 rural hospitals have closed since 2010. The low population density of rural areas can make it difficult for hospitals to cover operating costs when their patient volume is low. These hospital closures have left rural residents traveling an extra 20 miles (32 km) on average to receive inpatient health care services and an extra 40 miles (64 km) for specialty care services.

The government has created programs to try to help keep hospitals operating, but they all require funding that is at risk. For example:

• The Low-volume Hospital Adjustment Act, first implemented in 2005, has helped numerous rural hospitals by boosting their Medicare payments per patient, but it faces regular threats of funding cuts. It and several other programs to support Medicare-dependent hospitals are set to expire on March 31, 2025, when the next federal budget is due.

• The rural emergency hospital model, created in 2020, helps qualifying rural facilities to maintain access to essential emergency and outpatient hospital services, also by providing higher Medicare payments. Thus far, only 30 rural hospitals have transitioned to this model, in part because they would have to eliminate inpatient care services, which also limits outpatient surgery and other medical services that could require overnight care in the event of an emergency.

Services for pregnant women have also gotten harder to find in rural areas.

Between 2011 and 2021, 267 rural hospitals discontinued obstetric services, representing 25% of the United States’ rural obstetrics units. In response, the federal government has implemented various initiatives to enhance access to care, such as the Rural Hospital Stabilization Pilot Program and the Rural Maternal and Obstetric Management Strategies Program. However, these programs also require funding.

Expanding telehealth

Before the COVID-19 pandemic, telehealth – the ability to meet with your doctor over video – wasn’t widely used. It could be difficult for doctors to ensure reimbursement, and the logistics of meeting federal requirements and privacy rules could be challenging.

The pandemic changed that. Improving technology allowed telehealth to quickly expand, reducing people’s contact with sick patients, and the government issued waivers for Medicare and Medicaid to pay for telehealth treatment. That opened up new opportunities for rural patients to get health care and opportunities for providers to reach more patients.

However, the Medicare and Medicaid waivers for most telehealth services were only temporary. Only payments for mental and behavioral health teleheath services continued, and those are set to expire with the federal budget in March 2025, unless they are renewed.

One way to expand rural health care would be to make those waivers permanent.

Increasing access to telehealth could also support people struggling with opioid addiction and other substance use disorders, which have been on the rise in rural areas.

2. Affordable housing is a rural problem too

Like their urban peers, rural communities face a shortage of affordable housing.

Unemployment in rural areas today exceeds levels before the COVID-19 pandemic. Job growth and median incomes lag behind urban areas, and rural poverty rates are higher.

Rural housing prices have been exacerbated by continued population growth over the past four years, lower incomes compared with their urban peers, limited employment opportunities and few high-quality homes available for rent or sale. Rural communities often have aging homes built upon outdated or inadequate infrastructure, such as deteriorating sewer and water lines.

One proposal to help people looking for affordable rural housing is the bipartisan Neighborhood Homes Investment Act, which calls for creating a new federal tax credit to spur the development and renovation of family housing in distressed urban, suburban and rural neighborhoods.

Similarly, the Section 502 Direct Loan Program through the U.S. Department of Agriculture, which subsidizes mortgages for low-income applicants to obtain safe housing, could be expanded with additional funding to enable more people to receive subsidized mortgages.

3. Locally owned land benefits communities

Seniors age 65 and older own 40% of the agricultural land in the U.S., according to the American Farmland Trust. That means that more than 360 million acres of farmland could be transferred to new owners in the next few decades. If their heirs aren’t interested in farming, that land could be sold to large operations or real estate developers.

That affects rural communities because locally owned rural businesses tend to invest in their communities, and they are more likely to make decisions that benefit the community’s well-being.

Congress can take some steps to help communities keep more farmland locally owned.

The proposed Farm Transitions Act, for example, would establish a commission on farm transitions to study issues that affect locally owned farms and provide recommendations to help transition agricultural operations to the next generation of farmers and ranchers.

About 30% of farmers have been in business for less than 10 years, and many of them rent the land they farm. Programs such as USDA’s farm loan programs and the Beginning Farmer and Rancher Development Program help support local land purchases and could be improved to identify and eliminate barriers that communities face.

We believe that by addressing these issues, Congress and the new administration can help some of the country’s most vulnerable citizens. Efforts to build resilient and strong rural communities will benefit everyone.

Randolph Hubach, Professor of Public Health, Purdue University and Cody Mullen, Clinical Professor of Public Health, Purdue University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.