How RFK Jr.’s Arc Bent Toward MAGA
7 min read
In the spring of 2023, not long after Robert F. Kennedy Jr. launched his chaotic presidential campaign, I asked him a straightforward question. What do you see as more harmful to America: another term of Joe Biden, or Donald Trump returning to power? “I can’t answer that,” Kennedy replied.
This morning, Kennedy finally stopped being cagey: He announced that he was suspending his campaign and throwing his support to Trump. During a rambling, nearly hour-long speech at the Renaissance Hotel in downtown Phoenix, Kennedy shared that the two had been talking for more than a month, and that he had visited the former president at Mar-a-Lago. “In a series of long, intense discussions, I was surprised to discover that we are aligned on many key issues,” Kennedy said. He correctly noted that his announcement would cause “difficulty” for his family members. “Our brother Bobby’s decision to endorse Trump today is a betrayal of the values that our father and family hold most dear,” five Kennedys said in a statement this afternoon. “It is a sad ending to a sad story.”
Kennedy’s evolution from member of a Democratic dynasty to a soldier in the anti-democratic MAGA movement will no doubt confuse casual observers. Trump once called Kennedy the “dumbest member” of his famous family and Kennedy once suggested that Trump was a sociopath. The main reason for Kennedy’s conversion may be pure desperation. This summer, Kennedy made overtures to both major-party candidates; only Trump reciprocated. But the Trump-Kennedy pairing makes a certain kind of sense. To be sure, Kennedy doesn’t share Trump’s anti-immigrant sentiment, nor does he lean on white-identity politics or nationalism. Instead, it’s Kennedy’s conspiratorial, anti-establishment, burn-it-down ethos that makes him fit into the MAGA universe.
At the hotel, I noticed Jim Hoft, the founder of the far-right website The Gateway Pundit, sitting in the front row, just a few feet from the stage. “I think it’ll be huge,” Hoft said of Kennedy’s Trump endorsement. “I align with Robert, probably, on a majority of topics—it’s just interesting how that’s playing out right now. I think he’s a natural ally for Trump. I think it’s going to help Trump tremendously.”
As Kennedy lashed out against the Democratic Party this afternoon, he sounded like a jilted lover searching for answers. He noted that he had attended his first Democratic National Convention at the age of six, in 1960. And he attempted to draw a contrast between the party of his father and uncle, and today’s “shadowy DNC operatives” who staged “a palace coup” against Joe Biden. The Democratic establishment, he claimed, had weaponized government agencies against him and his campaign. He accused Biden of colluding with media companies to “censor” him and bemoaned his relative lack of cable-news interviews. He also sounded daft. “In an honest system, I believe that I would have won the election,” Kennedy said.
Three key factors forced Kennedy’s withdrawal. The first and most obvious was money. Despite tapping Nicole Shanahan, the wealthy Silicon Valley businesswoman, to be his running mate, Kennedy’s fundraising had recently dried up. Recent FEC filings showed that his campaign had just $3.9 million on hand at the end of July. The second factor was ballot access. Nick Brana, the campaign’s ballot-access director, told me that, as of today, the Kennedy-Shanahan ticket was certified in only 22 states. Kennedy was recently disqualified from the New York ballot after a recent court case, making the goal of all 50 states a virtual impossibility. The third factor was perhaps the most obvious: his core proposition had become moot once Biden dropped out.
All along, Kennedy’s pitch had relied on the fact that a sizable chunk of voters didn’t want a Biden-Trump rematch. But after Harris took Biden’s place as the nominee, she began to win back some of the disaffected Democrats, independents, and undecideds who had “parked” their support in the Kennedy column. Kennedy’s polling average had fallen to about 5 percent, from a 2024 high of around 10 percent. Kennedy shared that his team’s polling showed him drawing more votes from Trump than from Harris in battleground states—something outside pollsters had confirmed to me earlier this month.
My conversations with Kennedy confidants, staffers, and supporters before and after the event painted a murky picture of what’s next for his movement. Jeffrey Rose, Kennedy’s friend of 30 years, had tears in his eyes as we spoke. “The DNC invited this,” Rose said. “As a Democrat, it’s not easy for me.” I asked him if he planned to follow Kennedy’s directive and vote for Trump. “What choice do I have?” he replied. Rose was among the Kennedy allies who would soon head to the nearby Trump rally, where Kennedy would be the special guest. Daniel Adams, who had helped raise money for Kennedy’s super PAC, American Values, told me that he expected “most” RFK Jr. supporters to pivot to Trump, but acknowledged that Trump’s vaccine policy had been a source of dissatisfaction. Casey Westerman, a 38-year-old supporter in a blue Kennedy hat, said she had voted for Trump in 2020 and 2016, and had been drawn to Kennedy this cycle because of his messages about “corporate capture” of the CDC and FDA. “I trust Kennedy,” Westerman said. “Whoever he chooses to support is who I’ll support.”
Others were less committed. Dicky Barrett, the former lead singer of the ‘90s ska band the Mighty Mighty Bosstones, was milling about the room with a look of resignation on his face. “In the world as it currently is, nothing surprises me anymore,” Barrett told me. “What I wanted ultimately, and still want, is for Bobby to be the 47th president of the United States. Anything short of that, I haven’t properly processed.” Barrett said he did not want Kennedy to endorse Trump. “I have great admiration, huge respect, and a lot of love for Bobby Kennedy. He was there for me when I needed him—I don’t have that for the other candidates in this race. Even remotely.”
Drea de Matteo, who won an Emmy for her role as Adriana on The Sopranos, was among those scheduled to partake in a “star-studded sunset cruise” with Kennedy and his wife, Cheryl Hines, next week in Southern California. Today she was in Phoenix to lend her support. De Matteo told me that she’s a lifelong liberal, but described herself as “anti-government.” She said she had never voted before 2020, when she voted for Biden, which had been a “huge” mistake. “I don’t know what I’m going to do yet,” she said of her 2024 plans. “I’m gonna go to this rally today and I’ll make up my mind.” (It would be her first Trump rally.) “I think most Americans want an independent candidate now, because no one believes in either party,” she added. Kennedy, she said, had been “completely, for lack of a better word, cock-blocked by the DNC.” She told me she was at least willing to hear Trump out.
Kennedy’s campaign was built on contradictions. Although he has one of the most recognizable names in politics, he pitched himself as a benevolent outsider, a unifier, and often leaned into something akin to earthy mysticism. I interviewed him at length both this year and last year. He would be admirably candid one minute and obfuscate or lie the next (especially when discussing his record on vaccines). He would draw false equivalencies and peddle misinformation. On the stump, Kennedy used to talk about the divisions that seemed to be cutting American society into pieces. It doesn’t have to be this way, he’d say. Now, sticking to his contradictory theme, he’s thrown in his lot with the most divisive figure in recent history.
At the Trump rally tonight, Kennedy walked out to Foo Fighters’ stadium-rock anthem “My Hero” and shook Trump’s hand. The crowd roared. Not too long ago, Kennedy called Trump “a terrible human being.” Tonight he bent the knee, asking, “Don’t you want a president who’s going to protect America’s freedoms and who is going to protect us against totalitarianism?”
Like the man he’s just endorsed, Kennedy has an outsize ego, a tenuous grasp of reality, and is given to bizarre turns of phrase. “The naysayers told us that we were climbing a glass version of Mount Impossible,” Kennedy said at the Renaissance Hotel today. Shortly thereafter, he suggested he could still become president as the result of a contingent election, if no candidate received the requisite 270 electoral votes. “This is a spiritual journey for me,” Kennedy said. He may not believe it’s over but the ending has come into view. Was it worth the trek?
