Four of the most prominent conservative figures to break with President Trump gathered at Tucker Carlson's cabin in Maine over the weekend, publicly declaring the start of a new political movement built on what they call broken promises over foreign wars.
Marjorie Taylor Greene, the former Georgia congresswoman who resigned her seat in January, posted a photo of the candlelit gathering that included Carlson, outgoing Kentucky Rep. Thomas Massie, and Joe Kent, the former director of the National Counterterrorism Center who left the Trump administration over the war in Iran. Their spouses rounded out the group of seven seated around a wooden table at the cabin where Carlson films his podcast, the Daily Mail reported.
Greene's public post framed the meeting as the opening act of something larger than a gripe session. She accused the president of abandoning the anti-war commitment that defined his campaigns and declared a new movement underway.
"We said no more foreign wars, and we meant it and supported Donald Trump because he made that promise. But he's betrayed us all. Our commitment is America First for all Americans, right, left, and center. The movement has begun."
Massie shared Greene's post with a pointed caption of his own: "This meeting will not be televised."
Each of the four principals arrived at Carlson's cabin by a different route, but the common thread is a public rupture with the president and his political operation.
Greene was once among Trump's most visible congressional allies. That relationship fractured last year when she and Massie led a push on Capitol Hill to force the release of government files related to the deceased financier Jeffrey Epstein. Trump responded by calling Greene a "traitor," among other names. She returned the label, and the dispute escalated until she resigned from Congress in January.
Massie, a seven-term congressman from Kentucky, drew the president's ire on two fronts. He bucked Trump on the "One Beautiful Bill" tax legislation, a sprawling package the White House treated as a loyalty test, and joined Greene's Epstein-files campaign. Trump's political operation recruited Ed Gallrein, a retired Navy SEAL and farmer, to challenge Massie in the primary. Gallrein won in May.
Kent's break was the most dramatic in policy terms. He resigned from the administration over the war in Iran and appeared on Carlson's show days after his departure. Before joining the White House, Kent had served as director of the National Counterterrorism Center, a post that gave him direct visibility into the kind of overseas operations he now publicly opposes.
Carlson, for his part, has built the most-watched conservative media platform outside of Fox News from the same Maine cabin where the meeting took place. His show has become a landing pad for figures who break with the Republican establishment, and Kent's post-resignation interview fit that pattern.
The Greene-Massie partnership is newer than it looks. The two were not close allies during most of their overlapping time in Congress. Their bond formed around the Epstein-files push, and it has accelerated since both left office. They recently traveled to Costa Rica together with their spouses, Greene's husband Brian Glenn and Massie's wife Carolyn Grace Moffa, before reconvening in Maine.
Greene married Glenn in Las Vegas at the Bellagio's Terrazza di Sogno, a terrace overlooking the casino's famous fountains. They had obtained their marriage license just one week earlier. The wedding was a Tuesday-night affair, quick, deliberate, and very much on brand for a politician who has made a habit of defying conventional political timing.
That speed has drawn critics. Independent journalist and podcaster Walter Kurt took aim at Greene's credibility as a movement leader in a pointed response to her post:
"You quit Congress in the middle of your term to get married in Vegas and go on a media tour. Why would anyone look to you as the leader of a movement?"
It is a fair question, and one that Greene's post did not address. Resigning a congressional seat, voluntarily walking away from the platform that gave her national influence, is an unusual launchpad for a new political venture. Whether the move was strategic or impulsive will depend on what comes next.
The photo from Carlson's cabin drew immediate and polarized responses from figures across the right.
Alex Jones, the right-wing media figure, endorsed the gathering. "That's a great group of Americans!" he posted after sharing Greene's image.
Laura Loomer, the right-wing journalist and vocal Trump ally, went in the opposite direction. She called for all seven people pictured to face government scrutiny:
"Every single one of these people belongs on a government watch list. Every person in this photo is a traitor to America and an anti-Trump operative amplified by foreign adversaries."
Loomer's response illustrates how thoroughly the lines have been redrawn on the right. Figures who were once part of the same populist coalition now describe each other in the language of national security threats. The broader jockeying within the GOP ahead of 2028 has only sharpened those divisions.
Meghan McCain, the podcaster and daughter of the late Sen. John McCain, offered a lighter jab: "Why does everyone in this photo look like they're at Patricia's Sunset Cocktails?"
One unnamed commenter took the opposite view entirely, writing simply: "The Avengers have assembled."
Greene's post called this "a movement," not a party. That word choice is worth noting. Filing paperwork for a new political party requires infrastructure, ballot access in dozens of states, fundraising apparatus, and a willingness to split the conservative vote in general elections. A "movement" requires none of those things. It requires only a microphone and a grievance.
Nothing in the public record so far indicates that the group has filed any formal party registration or established a legal entity. The meeting itself, seven people around a table, photographed and posted online, is closer to a political signal than a political organization. Whether it becomes something more depends on whether the participants are willing to build the machinery that turns rhetoric into a ballot line.
The group does have real assets. Carlson commands one of the largest conservative media audiences in the country. Greene has a national profile and a proven ability to raise money from small donors. Massie has a reputation for policy independence that earned him respect among libertarian-leaning voters even as it cost him his seat. Kent brings national security credentials and a resignation-on-principle story that plays well with anti-war conservatives.
What they lack is a party apparatus, a candidate pipeline, and, critically, any demonstrated ability to win elections outside the Republican primary system. Massie just lost his primary. Greene resigned. Kent quit the administration. Carlson has never run for office. As the 2028 Republican presidential field takes shape, the question is whether this group can build something durable or whether the meeting in Maine becomes a footnote.
Greene's stated reason for the split is foreign wars, specifically, the accusation that Trump promised to keep America out of new conflicts and failed to do so. Kent's resignation over the war in Iran gives that argument a concrete anchor. But the underlying fractures predate any single policy dispute.
The Epstein-files fight put Greene and Massie on a collision course with the White House long before the Iran situation escalated. Trump's decision to label Greene a "traitor" and to recruit a primary challenger against Massie turned policy disagreements into personal vendettas. The president's political operation treated dissent as disloyalty and responded with the tools it had: endorsements, nicknames, and primary opponents.
That approach worked against Massie, Gallrein beat him. But it also created a small, motivated group of former allies with nothing left to lose inside the Republican Party and every incentive to build something outside it.
The risk for the broader right is obvious. A splinter movement that draws even a small percentage of conservative voters in competitive states could hand elections to Democrats. Third-party efforts on the right have a long history of producing exactly that outcome. Ross Perot's 1992 campaign remains the cautionary tale that haunts every such venture.
But the risk of ignoring the grievances is real, too. If a meaningful slice of the conservative base believes the president broke his core promise on foreign entanglements, that frustration does not disappear just because it lacks a party label. It finds other outlets, primary challenges, low turnout, or exactly the kind of movement Greene described from Carlson's cabin.
Movements built on broken promises have a way of outlasting the people who start them. Whether this one has legs depends on whether the promises were actually broken, and whether anyone at that table has the discipline to build something voters can use.
