‘His ego will not accept defeat’: the story behind Trump’s attempt to steal an election

A new documentary shows how close Trump and his allies were to subverting 2020 election – through Republican eyes

By now, 6 January 2021 has so thoroughly saturated the American political consciousness – a single date conjuring up images of the once unthinkable, mentioned every day in news about criminal court cases, the future of democracy and Donald Trump’s ongoing presidential campaign – that you could argue we are used to it. Election denialism has become a feature, not a bug, of a major political party for nearly four years. The fact that Trump, when given the opportunity by ABC moderators to distance himself from efforts to discredit the 2020 election during this month’s presidential debate, still refused to acknowledge Joe Biden’s legitimate victory is no longer surprising, though we are also inured to shock.

But a new HBO documentary argues, through forensic chronological detail and, perhaps ironically, the testimony of Republican election officials and former members of Trump’s administration, for remembering just how beyond the pale attempts to subvert the 2020 election were. As recounted in Stopping the Steal, a new film from the Leaving Neverland director, Dan Reed, the period between election night 2020 and 6 January 2021 was a series of genuinely shocking, potentially devastating opportunities for democratic disaster that often came down to clashes between obscure, local Republican officials and the president of the United States. January 6, in fact, “isn’t the scary bit”, Reed said. “The really scary bit is all the machinations that happened before. Because had they succeeded, the knock-on effect would have been to just gum up the system.

“Step by step, you can see that enough uncertainty was being injected into the system, and enough small gains were being made, to result in potentially a cataclysmic outcome.”

Though Trump may deny any responsibility for January 6, his efforts to undermine the American electoral process and discredit the result in 2020 began the night of the election, before any network had even called it for Biden. At 2.30am, after news networks projected a Biden win in the crucial swing state of Arizona, Trump held an impromptu press conference in which he falsely claimed: “Frankly, we did win this election.” What happened next is a matter of real-time journalistic record, playing out over several weeks and relived in Stopping the Steal by the people who were there: administration pressure on election officials in Arizona and Georgia to support evidence-free claims of fraud or, in one infamous Trump phone call, to find him “11,780 votes”; activation of misinformation channels and true believers, who latched on to claims of fraud, harassed election officials and showed up outside county offices armed with AR-15s; a media campaign by Trump’s lawyers Rudy Giuliani, Sidney Powell, Jenna Ellis and others bringing fringe legal “theories” into the mainstream; and finally the legitimization of crackpot legal theories to hijack the arcane electoral college, culminating in Trump’s January 6 rally.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DYiPxpSBhRo

Stopping the Steal synthesizes these many episodes, through the perspectives of the officials – the then attorney general, Bill Barr; the Maricopa county supervisor, Clint Hickman; the Georgia secretary of state, Brad Raffensperger; the Georgia election operations manager, Gabriel Sterling – who worked to prevent the steal by simply doing their jobs. The framing offers “a story told by people who love Trump, but who love democracy more, who love the institution more”, said Reed – mostly, Republicans who “held the line and who came under extraordinary pressure”.

By their own admission in Stopping the Steal, these officials would have entertained evidence of voter fraud, even celebrated it, had there been any. “I had every motivation,” says Rusty Bowers, Arizona’s former speaker of the house, in the film. But there wasn’t – and Trump knew it. “He knows he lost,” says Stephanie Grisham, a Trump campaign and White House official for six years. “But he’s a narcissist and his ego will not accept defeat. And when you have people who will so willingly come around you and tell you you didn’t lose and the things you want to hear … that enables him to double down and triple down.”

So he tripled down, with the help of (seemingly) true believers, some of whom also appear in the film – Jacob Chansley, also known as the QAnon Shaman, and Marko Trickovic, who spread numerous conspiracy theories about votes being stolen or discounted. “The guys on the grassroots level, I think they really believe,” said Reed. “I don’t think they have any doubt that the election was stolen, because they inhabit a universe in which that is a given.”

Reed, who also recently performed a similar forensic analysis on January 6 called Four Hours at the Capitol, maintains that including the perspective of the so-called “Stop the Steal” movement does not platform its beliefs; if anything, it puts the alternate universe of the “stolen” 2020 election in starker relief to the facts. “Whether you think they’re sincere or insincere, they’re protagonists in this drama,” he said. “It’s always good and fair to hear from them, and give them a chance to express what they have to say in a coherent way.

“I presume my audience is intelligent,” he added. “I presume that they’re smart enough to know the difference between someone who’s indulging wish fulfillment or embracing a fantasy, and other people who are doing it for more cynical reasons.”

Stopping the Steal ends with January 6, and makes no presumptions about what will happen in November if Trump wins or, perhaps just as distressingly, if he refuses to lose again, which some Republicans are already preparing for. “I’m not a political pundit,” said Reed. “I made the film because I want it to be a timeless film, because it marks a turning point in the way that we do elections. Now we have an option of: the Republicans won, the Democrats won, or someone stole it. We never had that option. That narrative didn’t exist before.

“The blueprint is there, the playbook is there – why would it be different this time, if Kamala Harris wins?”

The day-by-day recounting of how the votes in 2020 were counted, and then protected – in nondescript county buildings, secretary of state offices, board meetings and eventually the US Congress – only underscores that a democracy is only as strong as its most obscure, smallest offices, whose character can make the difference between business as usual and a steal. “The functioning of democracy depends on people who buy into the idea that it should be fair,” said Reed. “If the system isn’t populated with people who embrace the basic idea of it, that it should be fair and everyone gets their fair shot, then the system no longer works.”

Stopping the Steal, in revisiting the timeline largely through Republicans’ first-person narratives – it was not Democratic officials that Trump personally called – acts as a “non-partisan” review of the facts, “the look back that we can all share”, said Reed. The election in November will come down to how many people vote, where they vote, and for whom. But it will also be determined by “the remote gearboxes and the little bits of democracy you can’t see”, he said. “And that’s what we need to look out for. That’s what we need to shine a light on this time.”

Sir Keir loves freebies

It’s been revealed that Keir Starmer received over £100,000 of free gifts – more than any other party leader in recent times – so it’s all very well him telling others to tighten their belts when he doesn’t even have to pay for his.

After the Huw Edwards scandal, a tip for the BBC – your stars are not Gods: stop treating them like that

The former presenter’s crimes are his responsibility, but the corporation must change so its big names can never again abuse their power

Huw Edwards after sentencing at Westminster magistrates’ court, London, 16 September 2024.

Disgraced, convicted and now sentenced, a chapter has closed: there will clearly be no return to public life for Huw Edwards. But what of his employer, the BBC, whose reputation allows the greatest recognition and respect to those it considers stars, possibly more than any other broadcaster?

The ability of well-known, powerful figures, usually men, to abuse the trust placed in them is not unique to the BBC, of course. But the BBC’s history, as well as the universal funding mechanism it is currently fighting to continue, makes it imperative that, this time, the corporation learns the lessons of past scandals. The BBC’s lowest point was clearly after the revelations about Jimmy Savile, who had been allowed to hide far more atrocious sins in plain sight and to die a hero. But it must still ensure that it is in a strong position to weather further scandals.

The corporation announced an independent review into its workplace culture in August, after Edwards first pleaded guilty to possessing indecent images of children. With the review panel not yet appointed, it seems as good a time as any to look at what the corporation can do to avoid another scandal involving its best-known and best-paid staff.

So many of the scandals that damage the reputation of the BBC involve “talent” – men such as Edwards but also Rolf Harris, Savile and far lesser offenders who nonetheless broke the rules, such as Martin Bashir – given special treatment because they happen to be good on the telly. These are men not only paid enormous amounts of money, but also placed on the sort of pedestal that silences dissent. Any review of BBC culture must first give its less powerful employees a genuine avenue to raise any concerns or complaints.

The success and fame of Edwards, and all “front of house” presenters, rely on teamwork, yet researchers, producers, technicians and others are seen as far more expendable – with many believing it will be career-ending if they complain.

The power imbalance does not just affect junior members of staff when it comes to stars such as Edwards, whose career outlasted those of many of his bosses. The relationship between managers and presenters afforded public acclaim is unlike those in other, more hierarchical, jobs. The talent is often paid more and treated with kid gloves, which makes tough questions harder to ask.

The psychiatrist’s report cited in court traced a turning point back to 2018, when some BBC editors did raise concerns over Edwards’ social media activities after he took to posting images of himself bare-chested boxing on what was described as a “thirst Insta account”.

Yet nothing much seems to have been done, even though the court heard that Edwards took two months of sick leave in 2018 “following an anonymous denunciation”. To be fair, BBC bosses did not know the reason and could not enquire into mental health concerns he had not been open about.

Yet it does again raise questions about the lack of action between 2018 and Edwards’ arrest in November 2023 – an arrest after which he continued to be paid a salary amounting to £200,000 until he resigned.

No star should be afforded the sort of long leash that allows them to become both very grand and unmanageable. The power imbalances that insulate on-air talent at the BBC must be addressed, and no employee should be above scrutiny if there are complaints or concerns over their conduct.

The BBC has now allowed a roster of great presenters including Clive Myrie, Reeta Chakrabarti and Sophie Raworth to replace Edwards on the News at Ten. It should also ensure, going forward, that the image of a wise and trusted presenter is not always a male one.

But the change that BBC management will find hardest to make is that of the siege mentality it adopts when criticised. Under attack from commercial rivals, headline-hungry politicians and an ageing army of loyal licence-fee payers, many scandals are met with a circling of the wagons rather than an honest appraisal of the difficult decisions that have to be made. Whether over Strictly or Edwards, this approach tends to leave newsroom staff so furious at being left in the dark that the ensuing coverage of internal problems takes on the tone of a tabloid witch hunt.

The crimes of Edwards are his alone, not the BBC’s, as should be the punishment. Child safety organisations have spoken of a “hidden pandemic” of sexual exploitation and abuse in our society, a warning that suggests the problem is far from one that affects hubristic presenters alone.

But the BBC is too important to be allowed to just shrug its collective shoulders and kick the issue into the long grass of yet another review. A genuine rebalancing of power structures and behaviour is urgent, especially for a new generation who are increasingly choosing not to pay the licence fee, yet need the BBC to continue as this nation’s most trusted voice more than ever.