Slow and Steady Ends the Race
Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell announced earlier this week that he would step down from his leadership post following this year’s elections, marking the end of [which by then will be] an 18-year stint as the Senate’s top Republican. In looking up my previous praise for the man, I realized I said that I’ve “always liked” him. That’s not strictly true — in my younger, dumber, heat-over-light days [Good news — I’m not young anymore!], I was frustrated by his seeming lack of urgency in forcing then-president Obama to accept [what I now realize were implausible] Republican policy demands. In the intervening decade and a half, I came to appreciate his realist tendencies. I’ve never been particularly good at chess because subtle, long-term strategizing isn’t my strength. So when I was complaining about McConnell’s “failure theater” in attempting to repeal Obamacare, I can now appreciate that he was playing a longer game than I could’ve ever conceived. And as I’ve said, I think conservatives, Republicans, and particularly Trump voters who still mistakenly despite Mitch as some sort of Establishment squish, are all going to look back on McConnell’s tenure in the Senate as the halcyon days of Republican leadership. Because I look at the Republican bench and I don’t see anyone that can even sniff that level of methodically calculating focus, tactical skill, and strategic ability.
Another alarming aspect of McConnell’s looming departure is, as he said in his speech announcing his intentions, “believe me, I know the politics within my party at this particular moment in time — I have many faults, misunderstanding politics is not one of them.” It’s an admission that McConnell’s brand of Republicanism is giving way to a version, one I thought I wanted some 20 years ago. Which is to say, I expect it to be more like what I was then — dumber, meaner, pointlessly petulant, unfocused. One of McConnell’s best attributes is that he never had any higher ambition. He had two overriding objectives: achieve and maintain a Republican majority in the Senate, and appoint constitutionalists to the federal judiciary. He was willing to subjugate the rest of his considerations to those two objectives. I worry that whoever takes his place will not exhibit that level of discipline, and will instead more thoroughly reflect the unfocused passions of their voter base which will likely lead to various quixotic [and ultimately unsuccessful] ventures.
For as much as I respect and admire Cocaine Mitch, however, there is one major blemish on his record that has the potential to sour me on his record more broadly. Namely, his failure to convict Donald Trump in his second impeachment thus barring him from holding federal office. His reluctance to endure short term pain — or, more accurately, his miscalculation that “Democrats are going to take care of that son of a bitch for us” — has unleashed a series of [entirely preventable] consequences upon the rest of the country and its political system. Like a baseball fielder who mistakenly assumed his teammate was going to make the catch, McConnell dropped the proverbial ball that would’ve ended the game. As it is, we’re going to have to white-knuckle it through another inning [as I’m carted off to jail for torturing this metaphor]. We’d be in a much better place as a country if McConnell had rallied his caucus to the cause when he had the chance. He says that misunderstanding politics is not one of his faults, but that seems like at least a temporary lapse in judgement.
Not For Nothin’
The Supreme Court announced on Wednesday that it would hear arguments and issue a ruling over Donald Trump’s claim that he enjoys full immunity for all acts committed during his presidency. It was a deflating decision — or, in some cases, a literally outrageous decision — for many of us who would like to see Trump held accountable for his various crimes and worry that he might escape justice simply by successfully delaying the trials beyond November, getting elected president, and then ordering the Justice Department to drop the cases against him. The Supreme Court’s decision to hear arguments in the case — instead of merely affirming the lower court’s opinion that Donald Trump’s claim of absolute immunity is literally almost laughable — even on the expedited schedule on which they plan to hear the arguments means that the odds of the trial occurring before the election are now vanishingly small, so Trump has seemingly secured the first part of that strategy.
I’ll be honest, however — in matters regarding the Supreme Court, as an amateur and a layman, I outsource the level of my indignance to people whose opinions I trust on these issues, and who know much more about the intricacies of the Court’s history and process than I do. And those people are the Dispatch’s Sarah Isgur and the New York Times’s David French, who do a wonderful legal podcast together called Advisory Opinions. And neither of them seem particularly perturbed by the decision, so I guess I shouldn’t either.
On the matter of the tight schedule, Isgur notes that it’s not really the Supreme Court’s fault that they didn’t even receive the case until February of the election year. It is, once again, the result of a series of poor calculations and decision making across the entire political and legal system. Merrick Garland could have decided sooner to appoint the special counsel to investigate any possible crimes. Special Counsel Jack Smith could have issued his indictments sooner. Judge Tanya Chutkan could have gotten the appeals process started sooner. The DC Circuit Court could have issued its ruling sooner. So I take the point that it’s a little unfair to make the Supreme Court the target of all of our impatience with the exceedingly slow movement of the wheels of justice.
Also, it’s important to remember that the Supreme Court decides questions, not cases. Which is to say, the Court is not deciding, literally, whether the actions Donald Trump took in his attempt to subvert the 2020 election are covered in any way by presidential immunity. Rather, the court is deciding, literally, “whether, and if so to what extent, does a former president enjoy presidential immunity from criminal prosecution for conduct alleged to involve official acts during his tenure in office.” The fact that there’s something of a ticking clock with a closing window [to once again abuse metaphors] is not a chief concern to the Court. [Which isn’t to say it’s irrelevant, just that it’s one factor among many.]
Personally, I find the whole thing sort of clarifying. I’ve always been sort of skeptical that there was a legal solution to the Trump “problem.” This is merely the most recent reminder that We the People are on our own here. The cavalry isn’t coming. If something is to be done, we have to do it ourselves. I wish I felt better about, and I’m sure you do too, because leaving such questions in the hands of voters is a disquieting thought. [I dunno if you’ve noticed, but voters as a whole haven’t exactly been crushing it lately.] Nevertheless, we know what we have to do, so let’s set about doing it.
Let it serve as yet another reminder that our political system wasn’t designed for this level of bad faith and civic failure. Similar to how the laws of physics break down at the extremes of black holes and the unfathomably tiny innards of subatomic particles, the American political system struggles against a man with so little shame and decency, as well as a constituency of voters whose driving civic value is mostly spite. Which is to say, we could have avoided all of this if Donald Trump had the decency — and indeed, love of country — to slink out of public life after having so sullied it. Failing that, if Republican primary voters had the civic hygiene — and yes, patriotism — not to nominate such a cretin, we could have avoided such, uh, unpleasantness. But he doesn’t, and they don’t, so here we are.
I think Attorney General Merrick Garland was perfectly content to use prosecutorial discretion and eschew investigations/indictments against Trump so long as Donald Trump remained out of public life. But as soon as Trump announced he was running for president and it appeared that he was the likeliest Republican nominee, in a perverse way it sort of forced Garland’s hand. It’s sort of like Garland had an unofficial plea deal with Trump — you don’t run for president, we let bygones be bygones. Trump had other ideas, and so now Garland is belatedly attempting to use legal means to enforce what should simply be political norms and traditions. Similarly, if Trump had stayed out of public life, I think President Biden fulfills his claim of being a “bridge” candidate and steps down in deference to a younger generation of leadership. But again, he didn’t, so they didn’t, and here we are.
That’s something to bear in mind as we lumber through these next seven months and beyond — our current political dysfunction flows chiefly from the fact that Donald Trump is a pathologically shameless misanthrope who enjoys the devotional support of perniciously spiteful minority of the electorate who currently embodies a majority of a major political party. That’s the current Operational Picture, as they say. The route over these next seven months is unpleasant, but it’s straightforward.
Occasional Trivia
Answer from last time:
Category: Phrase Origins
Clue: In the 1870s, Geronimo enraged the U.S. govt. by going “off” this, an expression now used to mean “out of control.”
The reservation
Today’s clue:
Category: Celebrity Ancestors
Clue: Tom Hanks’ family tree includes Nancy Hanks, the mother of this late 19th century president.
Dispatches from the Homefront
I was startled awake the other night by what sounded like my younger daughter crying and shouting “help!” So I spring up and rush into her room only to realize that she was not saying “help!” she was saying “out!” As in, I’m done sleeping and would like out of my crib. It’s quite a feeling to realize you’ve been had by a two year old. So after several minutes of failed attempts to get her back to sleep, I gave up and went back to bed. Her mood did not improve. And as I slinked, defeated, back into bed, my wife said [half asleep] “always check the monitor.” The problem with that is the part of my brain that gets activated by my child crying while I’m in a dead sleep is leftover from my caveman ancestors and has no concept of technology. There was no time to check the monitor, my child could have been getting dragged away by a pterodactyl.