This idea — that Trump is the embodiment of Republican voters and a personification of their ambitions and fears, and therefore, attempts to punish him are spiritually transferable and translatable as an attack on individual Republicans and the party as a whole — seemed to seize Trump’s imagination as a perfect way of positioning the impeachment inquiry.

At a rally in Dallas nearly two weeks later, Trump tried out the message before a live audience:

“Now they continue the outrageous impeachment witch hunt with nothing. With nothing. They come after me, but what they’re really doing is they’re coming after the Republican Party. And what they’re really, really doing is they’re coming after and fighting you, and we never lose.”

The crowd applauded as Trump pursed his lips and surveyed the success of how the line had landed. It was a winner. It was a keeper.

Trump was making himself into the voodoo doll of conservative politics: Whatever pain he felt, his supporters would feel, and they would object to it in unison.

There is no separation between the Republican Party and Donald Trump. In fact, Trump killed the old Republican Party and now he alone animates the zombie party that lurched forward after its death.

This is Trump’s army. And he is warning his congressional generals, the lawmakers who protect and defend him, that there will be no defections, lest the army turn on them.

At least since August, Trump has been tweeting his stratospheric approval rating among Republicans every few days. That is less about informing than warning. This message is to Republican politicians, those who will hold his fate in their hands as the impeachment process unfolds, to stay in line and toe the line.