Three weeks into the second Trump administration, the key concept is “disruption.”

The concept originates with the self-made billionaire titans of the internet, who made disruption their mantra as they shook established business, media — and eventually government — to the ground. They did this thanks to the little-known Telecommunications Act of 1996, signed by Bill Clinton, which ensured that the then-fledging industry would remain unregulated and untaxed — a law that looks worse every day.

No one then imagined the empires of Google, Facebook and Amazon, feeding on the private data of unsuspecting consumers, “monetizing” our daily lives and using it without any restraint or social responsibility.

The disruptors have arrived in Washington, in the persons of Donald Trump and Elon Musk, the latter elected to nothing yet wielding power over the digital state, blowing past whatever remains of privacy. Trump issues executive orders faster than anyone can evaluate, mixing in illegal and unconstitutional edicts among legitimate, if highly dubious, directives.

Everyone’s kept guessing. Trump announces 25% tariffs on American allies Canada and Mexico, levels sure to set off a trade war and, if sustained, a worldwide recession — then pauses them just before they were to take effect.

The result, as a Maine editorial writer put it, is a lot of shock, but not much awe. Congress is left out, except to — Trump hopes — rubber-stamp his Cabinet appointees.

It seems incredible, yet we have seen these types in Maine. Scaled far back to reflect the difference between a state of 1.4 million and a nation of 346 million people, the parallels are uncanny.

Playing the role of Trump is Gov. Paul LePage (2011-19), who has called himself “Trump before Trump.” He looked and acted the part, notably the bullying and brow-beating. Unlike Trump now, he inherited veteran Republican legislative leaders, who found it impossible to enact much of his agenda, such as repealing the income tax, by far the state’s biggest revenue source.

After two years of squabbling, voters handed legislative control back to Democrats, leaving LePage governing by executive action. He wrecked the system of General Fund borrowing by blocking bond issues even after they’d received two-thirds majorities and voter approval, refusing new ones except for transportation.

Nor has long-term investment recovered under Gov. Janet Mills, LePage’s Democratic successor. Through six years, she’s proposed fewer bond issues than any governor since Republican John Reed in the 1960s; the three mini-bonds last year came from legislators on the Appropriations Committee.

Even more consequentially, LePage blocked acceptance of 100% federal Medicaid funding from the Affordable Care Act. He even defied a 2017 voter-approved referendum directing him to do so. It fell to Mills to institute expansion. Maine now has one of the most robust federal-state Medicaid partnerships, bridging coverage gaps and dramatically lowering the number uninsured.

LePage implicitly acknowledged his mistake when, during his attempted comeback in 2022, said he’d accept Medicaid expansion. Yet the damage was done. During the intervening years, Maine lost most of its independent local hospitals, acquired by Portland and Bangor conglomerates, which make all the decisions, remote from the people affected.

To find an analogue to Elon Musk, we must go back to Jim Longley, governor from 1975-79. Longley, a lifelong Democrat and ace insurance salesman, headed up the Management and Cost Survey (“Longley Commission”) for two-term Gov. Ken Curtis, the most progressive Democrat ever to hold statewide office.

There was good reason for the study. State government had just been reorganized from 150 separate agencies into Cabinet departments, just as inflation from the OPEC oil embargo was biting.

Longley did find things to fix, but became obsessed with costs and claimed he could save millions and millions without affecting services. When he became governor and a second, more intense wave of inflation ensued, he signed budgets with record increases.

Longley disclaimed political ambition, yet used the commission as a springboard in the governor’s race. In the topsy-turvy post-Watergate election, Longley as an independent beat Democrat George Mitchell — later U.S. Senate majority leader — and then-Attorney General Jim Erwin, the Republican nominee.

Longley feuded endlessly with legislative leaders and had more vetoes overridden than any other governor — until LePage. He couldn’t block a top income tax rate of 10% (it’s now 7.15%). He attempted to strangle the brand-new state university system in its crib. Despite failing to repeal it, he crippled its budget with lasting effect.

Let’s be clear: Longley would never have attempted a reign of misrule like Musk’s. LePage recognized limits to his power in a way Trump utterly rejects. In the republic’s dark days, that’s scant comfort, but we’ve seen their like before. Resistance is not futile.