COLUMN: Trump’s All-Consuming Obsession and the FBI in the Service of His Electoral Revenge

When the Law Becomes a Tool of Revenge

In 2020, when Trump asked the Department of Justice to seize voting machines, William Barr refused, citing a lack of reasonable cause. At the time, this refusal represented one of the last institutional lines of defense against the outgoing president’s authoritarian excesses. Today, that line of defense has vanished. Pam Bondi and Kash Patel, appointed by Trump to lead the Department of Justice and the FBI, have demonstrated their willingness to comply with the president’s wishes without the slightest moral resistance. Fulton County Commissioner Mo Ivory summed up the new American reality during a press conference: “We know that in America right now, it doesn’t even matter if what you’re saying is the right thing. If our president wants to send in the troops, he will.” This statement marks the resigned acceptance of a new constitutional order in which the rule of law gives way to the political will of the moment.

Perhaps this is what revolts me most deeply—this normalization of the abnormal. I grew up in a world where institutions carried weight, where the word “law” meant something tangible and sacred. Today, I watch these processes unfold and feel as though I’m witnessing a murder in slow motion. With every passing day, every safeguard that falls, every lawyer who bows to political will… all of this erodes my soul a little more. There are nights when I wake up wondering if we’ve reached the point of no return, if this slippery slope will irrevocably carry us toward an abyss that our ancestors had hoped to avoid forever. The anger welling up inside me is dull and constant, like a migraine that never goes away. And the worst part is this feeling of powerlessness, this terrifying conviction that what we’re seeing is only the beginning.

From an Investigative Agency to a Tool of Persecution

The FBI has long been regarded as the most professional and independent investigative agency in the United States, tasked with protecting national security and investigating federal crimes without political interference. That reputation is now in tatters. The raid on Fulton County is not part of a legitimate criminal investigation but rather a campaign of retaliation orchestrated from the Oval Office. The documents seized—more than 700 boxes—serve no obvious purpose as legal evidence but rather constitute a method of intimidation intended to frighten election officials who had the courage to certify the 2020 results. This strategy of intimidation by force is clearly intended to influence the behavior of election officials in swing states ahead of upcoming elections, creating a climate of fear that could affect how votes are counted in 2026 and 2028.

When I think about what the FBI meant to me as a child—those agents in suits and ties who seemed to embody American justice—and what it has become today, the contrast makes my head spin. I have memories of TV shows and movies where the FBI was always on the side of good—those heroes who saved the day at the last minute. What bitter irony. Today, it’s an instrument of oppression. It’s as if the villains had been given the heroes’ uniforms. The absurdity of the situation sometimes hits me with such force that I laugh nervously—a laugh without joy, without humor, just a mechanical reaction to the inconceivable. I watch the news and wonder if Orwell really underestimated reality in 1984. Newspeak isn’t here yet, but the alternative reality is already fully established.

A strategy of intimidation aimed at the present

The 2026 midterm elections are already shaping up to be crucial for control of Congress, and Trump seems determined to use his government apparatus to influence the results in key states. The raid in Georgia isn’t just about the past—specifically 2020—but serves as a clear warning to current election officials: comply, or face the same fate. This strategy specifically targets states like Georgia, Arizona, Michigan, and Pennsylvania, where margins are narrow and where intimidating officials could shift the balance of power. Moderate Republicans and Democrats working in these election offices now find themselves in an impossible position: doing their jobs while knowing that their honesty could cost them their freedom or their careers. Election officials are leaving en masse across the country, worn down by threats and now by federal investigations, creating a void of expertise that threatens the integrity of the electoral process itself.

What strikes me most about this story is the banality of the evil that is taking hold. Not the grand declarations or the thunderous speeches—no, what frightens me is this daily routine of intimidation, this insidious normalization of fear. I think of those election officials, those ordinary people who wanted to serve their communities, and who now find themselves in the FBI’s crosshairs. There is something deeply cruel about turning public service into an existential threat. I have moments of intense melancholy when I remember what American politics used to be—that competition of ideas, that respectful debate, that conviction that even if we disagreed, we were all in the same boat. That boat is sinking, and the most disturbing part is that many people seem to be cheering as it goes down.

Laying the Groundwork for a Long-Term Stay in Power

Trump’s obsession with 2020 is not just a matter of past revenge but constitutes the methodical preparation of his strategy for 2028. Unlike in 2020, when his attempt to overturn the results stemmed mainly from his arrogance and his inability to accept defeat, the stakes are now infinitely higher. After using presidential powers to place himself above the law for four years, Trump legitimately fears what might await him if he returns to private life—potential legal consequences that have never been resolved. This prospect of temporary impunity creates a powerful incentive to manipulate future elections, not only to remain in power but to avoid having to face accountability. The state apparatus that he has methodically purged and replaced with loyalists will serve this enterprise of systematic manipulation, with the FBI on the front lines to neutralize any electoral opposition.

There are days when I sit in front of my screen and feel physically exhausted, as if someone had drained all my energy. It is this endless repetition, this perpetual struggle against an enemy that changes form but whose goal remains the same: the destruction of democracy. I’ve written about authoritarianism for years, analyzed dictatorial regimes, and documented the mechanisms of tyranny. But to experience this from the inside, to see how these mechanisms take root gradually and insidiously in a society that believed itself immune… that is a radically different experience. The sadness that overwhelms me is that of someone who realizes that the cautionary tales we told about the past were, in fact, prophecies about our own future. And the most heart-wrenching part is the realization that we are the witnesses—and perhaps the passive accomplices—to our own downfall.

The Deafening Silence of a Party in Decline

The Republican Party, which once prided itself on being the defender of the rule of law and democratic institutions, has transformed itself into a compliant vehicle for Trump’s authoritarian ambitions. Republican elected officials, from the House of Representatives to the Senate, have overwhelmingly supported or downplayed the actions of the Department of Justice under Trump’s leadership, actively participating in the delegitimization of the electoral process. This complicity is not limited to silence but is expressed through state legislation passed in dozens of states that restricts access to the ballot and allows Republican-controlled legislatures to overturn election results they find objectionable. The Republican Party’s cohesion around Trump—despite his blatant use of the FBI as a political weapon—is evidence of a profound ideological shift in which the party has abandoned its founding principles in favor of an exclusive pursuit of power.

What perhaps revolts me more than anything else is this betrayal—for that is indeed what it is—of the principles this party claimed to defend. I have known Republicans who sincerely believed in things like freedom, the Constitution, and limited government. Many have left, silenced, turned into outcasts. Those who remain have sold themselves to a devil they think they can control, but who will devour them without hesitation as soon as he no longer needs them. The hypocrisy literally burns my stomach. I read these statements, I listen to these interviews, and I want to scream in frustration. How can they look at themselves in the mirror in the morning? How can they sleep at night knowing they’re participating in the destruction of what they claimed to love? It’s a mystery that’s completely beyond me, a moral enigma I can’t seem to solve despite all my years of observing human politics.

Unsung heroes defending democracy

DESPITE systematic intimidation, thousands of election officials across the country continue to do their jobs with courage and integrity. In Fulton County and dozens of other jurisdictions, officials are refusing to bow to political pressure, certifying honest results despite direct threats and federal investigations. These election officials—mostly ordinary, low-paid government employees who fly under the radar—may be the last line of defense for American democracy. Their individual stories, rarely told in the national media, bear witness to a daily courage that deserves to be celebrated: Ruby Freeman and Shaye Moss, the Georgia election workers falsely accused by Trump, have weathered death threats and continue to work. Republican secretaries of state like Brad Raffensperger refused to “find” the 11,780 votes Trump demanded, paying the price with their political careers but preserving their integrity.

When I think of these people—these ordinary human beings caught up in extraordinary circumstances—I feel a tear welling up in my eye, not out of sadness but out of admiration. Ruby Freeman, Shaye Moss, Brad Raffensperger… these names should be etched into American history as the heroes they are. They didn’t choose this role; they didn’t ask to become protagonists in a national drama. They were simply doing their jobs—what we all expect of our public servants. And yet, because they refused to give in, they were targeted, harassed, and threatened. There is something deeply moving about this anonymous resistance, this stubborn refusal to give in to the temptation of the easy way out. They give me hope—a fragile hope, as fragile as glass, but hope nonetheless.

When the Beacon of Democracy Fades

Trump’s use of the FBI as a political tool has not gone unnoticed on the international stage. America’s democratic allies, from Europe to Asia, are watching with concern as democratic standards in the United States deteriorate. America’s influence as a model and defender of global democracy is gradually eroding, leaving a vacuum that other powers—less burdened by democratic scruples—are ready to fill. Dictatorships and authoritarian regimes around the world are now using Trump’s actions as justification for their own repressive measures, citing the American example to delegitimize international criticism. This loss of American soft power will have lasting consequences for global geopolitics, weakening the international community’s ability to promote democratic values and defend human rights in oppressive regimes.

I have spent decades traveling, observing how America was perceived around the world. There used to be this admiration, even among those who disliked American politics—this recognition that, despite everything, the United States represented something special: that unique democratic experiment. Today, when I speak with my international contacts, I sense a mixture of pity and condescension. They no longer envy America; they pity it. This shift in attitude breaks my heart in a way I never thought possible. America is no longer the city on a hill; it has become a cautionary tale, a moral fable about how democracies can collapse from within. And I wonder if we’ll ever realize what we’ve lost before it’s too late to get it back.

The point of no return is approaching

The events in Georgia represent more than just a raid; they symbolize a critical step in the U.S. government’s evolution toward a system where the separation of powers exists only in name. Every action that normalizes the use of federal forces for political purposes makes the next action easier and more acceptable. The process of acclimating the public to authoritarianism is progressing at an alarming rate, with scandals unfolding so rapidly that the capacity for collective outrage is waning. The 2028 elections are shaping up to be a decisive test: if Trump—or a successor of the same ilk—manages to manipulate the outcome without significant consequences, the democratic character of America could be fundamentally and irreversibly altered. American democracy is at a pivotal moment where the decisions made—or not made—in the coming years will determine whether the political system survives in a recognizable form or transforms into something radically different.

There are moments when I feel like a spectator sitting in a theater on fire, watching the flames consume the stage while the audience continues to applaud as if nothing were wrong. This metaphor has been coming to mind more and more often lately. The fire is there, visible, threatening, but no one seems willing to leave. I often wonder if it was like this in Rome when the Republic was collapsing, or in Weimar when German democracy gave way to something much darker. People went about their lives, discussing their petty concerns, while history was crumbling around them. It’s this banality of catastrophe that terrifies me the most—not the sudden explosion, but this slow burning that reduces us to ashes without us even realizing it.

The Last Chance to Save the Essence of America

America stands at a historic crossroads. Recent events in Georgia clearly demonstrate that the traditional mechanisms for checking presidential power have been systematically dismantled or rendered ineffective. The FBI, the Department of Justice, and the federal courts—all have been infiltrated or intimidated to serve the political agenda of a single man. Faced with this reality, the options are narrowing: accept the new authoritarian normal, or find the courage to resist through every democratic means available. The upcoming elections will not be ordinary contests between politicians but existential battles for the soul of the nation. Every American citizen will be called upon to choose between the comfort of indifference and the risk of engagement. The collective response to this simple yet terrifying equation will determine whether America survives as a democracy or joins the long list of defunct republics that failed to preserve themselves.

I write these lines with a heaviness in my chest that I have never felt before. No anger, no fear… just a deep, existential weariness, as if my soul were being drained by witnessing what humanity is capable of doing to its own dreams. America wasn’t perfect—far from it—but it stood for something: a promise, an aspiration. That promise is shattering before our very eyes, and the most heart-wrenching part is that we are all witnesses—and sometimes accomplices—to this destruction. I fear for my children, for their children, for the world they will inherit. But perhaps this fear is necessary—perhaps it can wake us up before it’s too late. History has no predetermined ending, and the last page has not yet been turned. We still have a little time left—just a little—to write a different ending.

Signed, Jacques Provost