At GOP convention, Republicans are unified by one thing: debasing themselves for Donald Trump

MILWAUKEE — "Donald Trump has my strong endorsement, period."

Mere moments before former South Carolina governor Nikki Haley pledged her allegiance to MAGA during her Tuesday speech at the Republican National Convention, much of the crowd erupted in boos when she walked on stage, furious at a woman who had, however temporarily, defied their leader by running against him in the presidential primary. Throughout much of her doomed campaign, Haley had harsh words for the man who had given her the United Nations ambassadorship: "unhinged," "diminished," "mentally unfit," and "suicide for our country." But as she stood at the podium Tuesday, she seemed assured the delegates would come around. It was an easy crowd to win over. All she needed to do was extravagantly debase herself before Trump, who sat only a few yards away, eating up her submission.

After surviving a failed assassination attempt in Pennsylvania days before the start of the convention, Trump impulsively declared that "unity" was the watchword of the week. In conversations with delegates in the convention hall, they've dutifully repeated the word "unity," though it's entirely unclear what they mean by it. A unified country? A unified party? A collective agreement that shooting people is bad? An agreement that shooting Republicans is bad? Haley's speech left no doubt how she defines "unity": bending the knee to Trump.

Want more Amanda Marcotte on politics? Subscribe to her newsletter Standing Room Only.

"You don't have to agree with Trump 100% of the time to vote for him," Haley declared, as audience members shifted uncomfortably at this blasphemous suggestion that Trump might not be right about everything. But Haley reassured them that what matters more is "a unified Republican party" and a call to "put aside our differences and focus on what unites us."

The performance worked well enough to stop the booing and garner applause and cheers. The following speaker, Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis, got an even more rapturous reception by reciting a bunch of disparate MAGA grievances like "can't even define what a woman is" and "mandated you show proof of a COVID vaccine" and "millions and millions of illegal aliens." But his real message, like Haley's, was in the subtext. This appearance at the RNC was about bowing down to Trump and repenting for the sin of ever challenging the supremacy of Dear Leader.

Far more than "unity" or the official "Make America Great Again" slogan of the convention, the prevailing theme holding this year's GOP shindig together is how much Republicans will debase themselves to please Donald Trump. Speakers compete with each other to praise a man who has insulted them or induced them to humiliate themselves for his approval. Monday night featured multiple speakers who had tanked their reputations in a failed bid to get the running mate nod from Trump. Sen Tim Scott of South Carolina, who ran against Trump in the GOP primary, yelled "I just love you" loudly at Trump after the Iowa caucus. Sen. Katie Britt of Alabama was satirized on "Saturday Night Live" and turned "fundie baby voice" into a national joke after her failed State of the Union response. And Gov. Kristi Noem of South Dakota will be forever known as the lady who thought Trump would be stoked that she killed her own dog. Trump rejected all of them, yet they still showed up to pay fealty to their lord.

Then there's Sen. Marco Rubio of Florida, who has the twin distinctions of being a guy who both lost to Trump in a presidential primary and got snubbed as running mate. Rubio spent years beclowning himself with lavish, insincere praise of the man who nicknamed him "Little Marco," even speaking at his birthday party in June. After the shooting, Rubio gushed, "God protected President Trump," an especially thoughtless take considering another man died from the violence at the rally of the not-actually-president.

Off-stage, former New York City mayor Rudy Giuliani, who would be wise to keep a low profile, as his legal woes from his role in Trump's attempted coup keep piling up, has been all over the place at this convention, holding court in prominent locations while his handlers swirl around him. Whatever temporary ego boost he may get from having an entourage, however, it was erased when the world was reminded that one of their main duties is picking him up when he falls.

At least he hasn't been served an arrest warrant at the convention. Yet, anyway.

Perhaps the most noxious example is a man who seems to think he's riding high: Sen. JD Vance. The Ohio politician was tapped Monday to be Trump's running mate, a choice campaign experts across the partisan spectrum deemed unwise politically. As Dan Pfeiffer explained at Message Box, Vance "doesn’t expand the map," "lacks appeal to key demographics," and "fails to provide ideological balance or address vulnerabilities" — all three traditional priorities when picking a running mate.

What Vance did, however, is flatter Trump by being one of the most high-profile Republicans to bend the knee. During Trump's first campaign and year in office, Vance famously called Trump "America's Hitler," a "moral failure" and a "total fraud." In 2016, he told NPR, "I can’t stomach Trump," claiming he planned to vote for a third-party candidate or even, if it came to it, Hillary Clinton. Since then, however, he's become one of Trump's biggest fanboys, praising Trump with a fervor that even Stalin's apparatchiks would find excessive.

After the weekend shooting, Vance secured his running mate status with a slobbery tweet proclaiming Trump, "Courageous, United, and Defiant." (How can one person be "united?" It's perhaps unwise to ask hard questions about MAGA's empty rhetoric.) Trump loves nothing more than watching a former opponent crawl on his belly to ask for the leader's favor. He loves it even more than obedience from people who've always been servile to him, like Giuliani. Domination feels more victorious if the supplicant once resisted. Something tells me Vance's degradations at the hands of Trump have only just begun.

CORRECTION: An earlier version of this article misstated Donald Trump's nickname for Sen. Marco Rubio as "Little Rubio." The story has been updated with the correct moniker, "Little Marco."