No. of Recommendations: 5
Ya running and ya running
And ya Running Away.
Ya running and ya running
And ya Running Away.
Ya running and ya running
And ya Running Away.
Ya running and ya running,
But ya can't run away from yourself
Can't run away from yourself
Can't run away from yourself
Can't run away from yourself
Can't run away from yourself
Can't run away from yourself.
— Running Away, Bob Marley
It has all come undone.
The photographs are disappearing. The declarations of loyalty are being rewritten. “America First” is becoming “Kentucky First.” Candidates who wrapped themselves in Donald Trump’s image during the primaries are redesigning their websites, changing their slogans, and introducing themselves to general-election voters as though the primaries happened in another country.
They are running away.
Not all at once. Not honestly. There are no press conferences announcing remorse, no speeches acknowledging error, and no public explanations of what has changed. This is quieter than that: a photograph removed here, an endorsement pushed down the page there, a declaration of fealty replaced by a sentence about independence, affordability or local concerns.
It is political retreat conducted through website maintenance.
The facts are specific.
Ralph Alvarado campaigned as an “America First Fighter.” In a video called “Triple Trump,” he emphasized that he stood with Donald Trump in 2016, 2020 and 2024. After securing the Republican nomination in Kentucky’s Sixth Congressional District, his website suddenly promises “Independent leadership for Kentucky.” A prominent photograph with Donald Trump and several references to him disappear from the introductory section.
Alvarado says he has not abandoned Donald Trump. His campaign argues that websites routinely change after primaries. That defense deserves to be reported. It also leaves the obvious question unanswered: why is the picture useful before the primary and expendable afterward? Why is “America First” the identity presented to Republican voters, while “independent leadership” becomes the message offered to everyone else?
Andy Barr made a similar change. His campaign website displayed a prominent photograph with Donald Trump and advertised Barr as “100% America First.” The revised version emphasizes his family and introduces the slogan “Kentucky Tough, Kentucky First, Always.” References to Donald Trump remain elsewhere, and Barr’s campaign says he continues to be proud of the endorsement. The support, according to the campaign, has not changed. Only its prominence has.
That distinction is the entire story.
Eric Flores, running in South Texas, previously listed ‘SUPPORT PRESIDENT TRUMP’S AGENDA’ as a top priority. It has since been replaced by ‘LOWER THE COST OF LIVING.’
Marty O’Donnell offers a more ambiguous example.
In June, the Nevada Republican’s campaign website greeted visitors with a large photograph of O’Donnell standing beside Donald Trump. Beneath it were the words, “President Trump endorsed Marty O’Donnell.” Two months later, that photograph and splash-screen endorsement were gone.
O’Donnell’s campaign says there was nothing political about the change. Adviser Keith Schipper said the image was simply part of a rotating splash page, and insisted that O’Donnell’s support for Trump had not changed.
That explanation may be true. It is important to say so because the contrast is still worth documenting.
During the Republican primary, visitors to O’Donnell’s website were immediately shown the candidate standing beside the president, and reminded that Trump had endorsed him. After the primary, they were not.
The campaign says the message has not changed. The website plainly has.
The Associated Press has reported that multiple Republican candidates have removed or de-emphasized Donald Trump after their primaries. A Washington Post analysis found at least seven Republican House candidates in competitive races doing the same thing.
They are running away.
Campaigns routinely change their emphasis between primary and general elections. That is true. Candidates speak to a partisan electorate first and a broader electorate afterward. They adjust biographies, reorder issues and replace ideological slogans with kitchen-table language. None of that, by itself, establishes repudiation or remorse.
It establishes calculation.
These candidates are not obscure citizens discovering new information. They are political professionals making deliberate decisions about what voters should see. Donald Trump’s image is elevated when association with him appears advantageous. It is diminished when that association becomes dangerous. The affection may remain. The advertising strategy changes.
That is why “running away” is more than a taunt. It describes a measurable retreat from previously chosen political identities.
The public record cannot be edited as easily as a homepage.
Donald Trump’s effort to overturn the 2020 election has been extensively documented. A federal indictment alleged that he and his co-conspirators used claims they know are false, pressured state officials, organized fraudulent elector slates, attempted to enlist the Justice Department, and pressured the vice president as part of an effort to obstruct the lawful certification of the election.
Those allegations never reached a trial verdict. The case was dismissed after Donald Trump returned to the presidency, consistent with the Justice Department’s position against prosecuting a sitting president. Special Counsel Jack Smith subsequently reported that, in his judgment, the admissible evidence was sufficient to obtain and sustain a conviction.
Republican candidates were free to examine that record and reject Donald Trump. Some Republicans did. Others chose continued support. They did so after January 6, after the public hearings, after the federal indictment, and after years of documented attempts to reverse an election defeat.
That choice belongs to them.
Members of Congress do not swear loyalty to a president. Their oath requires them to support and defend the Constitution, bear true faith and allegiance to it, and faithfully discharge the duties of their offices. The wording matters because it identifies the constitutional object of their loyalty.
It is not a party.
It is not a movement.
It is not a man.
Candidates who continued to promote Donald Trump after his attempt to remain in power cannot plausibly claim that the central facts are unavailable. They may dispute the characterization of those facts. They may accept Donald Trump’s account. They may place party, policy or electoral advantage above their objections. But those are political judgments for which they remain responsible.
Deleting a photograph does not repeal a judgment.
The historical comparison must be exact. Contemporary American candidates are not functionally identical to Italian fascists or officials of Nazi Germany. The differences in regime, crime and historical scale cannot responsibly be erased. The comparison is narrower, simpler and ancient: the behavior of political loyalists when association with a leader changes from an asset into a liability.
At the end of Italian fascism, Benito Mussolini attempted to escape north with a retreating German convoy. The uniforms and salutes no longer protected him. The performance of power was finished. Italian partisans captured him near Lake Como.
In Germany, Heinrich Himmler abandoned his identity. He shaved his moustache, wore an eye patch, and carried papers identifying him as Sergeant Heinrich Hitzinger. The man who commanded an empire of terror tried to vanish inside a dead soldier’s name.
Uniforms were discarded. Names were changed. Loyalties proclaimed during power’s ascendance became burdens during its collapse.
Running away.
Today’s version is bloodless and digital. Nobody needs forged papers when a campaign consultant can redesign a website. Nobody needs to discard a uniform when a photograph can be moved below the fold. Nobody needs to renounce the leader when the association can simply become less visible.
The comparison is not between the magnitude of the crimes. It is between the mechanics of retreat.
That retreat must be documented. Archived webpages must be preserved. Earlier advertisements must be placed beside current ones. Statements made before primaries must be compared with messages delivered afterward. Candidates must be asked directly why particular words and photographs disappear. Their answers must be printed in full.
Strategic editing cannot be allowed to become historical erasure.
Donald Trump is not a youthful indiscretion. He is not a forgotten photograph from a college party. He has dominated Republican politics for more than a decade. Candidates who invoked his name make a calculated claim about their values, judgment and intended use of power. If they now believe that claim requires less emphasis, voters are entitled to know why.
There is no escape from the record.
The internet remembers the endorsement. The archives preserve the photograph. The advertisements retain the promises. The videos contain the applause. The chronology shows when devotion becomes politically profitable and when visibility becomes inconvenient.
These candidates may continue supporting Donald Trump while changing the packaging. They may argue that they are merely broadening their campaigns. Voters may accept those explanations or reject them — but the evidence remains.
They chose the slogans. They posed for the photographs. They welcomed the endorsements. They declared the loyalty. Those decisions cannot be transferred to a consultant, buried in an archive, or dissolved by a redesigned homepage.
They can change their websites.
They cannot change what they do.
They can move the photographs.
They cannot move the dates.
They can rewrite the introductions.
They cannot rewrite the record.
They can run.
There is no escape.
