Between the impeachment hearings, the Democratic primaries, and the accelerating chaos that has marked our domestic and foreign policy since January of 2017, the task of civic engagement can seem hopelessly complex. Whom to support? What to oppose? Can I fail to become part of the problem?
I have good news. For all people of conscience (whatever your political allegiance, but here I will particularly address my fellow Democrats), there are only two essential tasks. Succeed in these two endeavors, and you need not fear failing to have a positive impact, whatever else you may or may not accomplish. They are:
1) Repudiate Violence
This is not a call for civility. All such protests are meaningless now. When the President of the United States tells Representatives of color to "go back where they came from" and the Reverend Franklin Graham sells a children's picture book, Donald Builds the Wall, in which immigrants who have had their children taken from them on our border are allegorically represented as reptilian swamp creatures, our politics have become so obscene that all calls for civility from the right are hypocrisy, while those from the left cannot possibly be received in good faith.
But no amount of verbal or symbolic obscenity justifies physical violence. The distinction is simple: political attacks with words or ideas may be lewd, offensive, even immoral, but they are not "violent." Whatever a political opponent says, writes, or does (short of physically assaulting someone else), his or her person must be treated as sacrosanct. No invasion of someone's personal space as innocuous as a "glitter bombing" should be lauded or deemed acceptable. In politics as in kindergarten rule #1 must be "keep your hands to yourself."
Repudiating violence means abjuring violent rhetoric. Wishing harm on others may not be as bad as inflicting it, but it keeps the wheel of accelerating tension spinning and contributes to the already catastrophic disintegration of public trust. We may wish our political opponents electoral "annihilation," but not physical injury, much less "destruction." Even jokes, for example, wishing that the president suffer a heart attack exacerbate the climate of suspicion. God forbid something should happen to Donald Trump, there will be millions that refuse to accept he suffered anything but foul play.
Again, this is not about politeness or the tender feelings of the president's supporters. It is about the long-term survival of our institutions, and the short term political success of the opposition to Donald Trump and his enablers. Trump is a fundamentally anti-democratic figure. His political chances rise as the coherence and functionality of our institutions deteriorate. That is why he has sowed discord and animosity within the electorate from his first ride down the golden escalator. Trump thrives as democracy sickens, and violence is the death of democracy.
Some might object that an absolute repudiation of violence leaves Democrats vulnerable to Trump supporters who indulge in threats of "civil war." But such threats are just an extension of the kind of trolling that have become the hallmark of Trump's political brand. Certainly no one should feel the least afraid of such bluster. If Trump's supporters really express their love of the Dear Leader by attacking his opponents, we of course must and can defend ourselves.
But that is not Trump's real game. He talks and acts like a bully, but he is a shade more clever than the average schoolyard thug. Trump would like to see violence in the upcoming electoral cycle, as he welcomed it in 2016. But he would be most pleased by violence instigated by Democrats. He is so clearly corrupt and unscrupulous that his best chance is to discredit or morally compromise his opponents. He will thus try to provoke violence on the part of Democrats throughout the next year, and his provocations will become progressively more lurid and obscene as his political desperation grows. If Democrats can refuse the bait, they win. Those who spread and exemplify the message that violence is anathema thus can take pride in having fulfilled their civic duty and acted to save the Republic.
2)Stay Positive
Democracy thrives on optimism and dies in despair. As Franklin Delano Roosevelt observed, "we have nothing to fear but fear itself." Trump consistently makes political gains by inducing an atmosphere of anxiety and insecurity. He knows full well that his supporters, however enthusiastic, comprise a minority of the electorate, thus his best hope is to demoralize and deter his political opponents.
This is why he consistently stokes outrage and indulges in gratuitous cruelty. His observation that he could "shoot someone on fifth avenue" without losing the loyalty of his supporters was more than simple vanity, it was the cornerstone of a political strategy. He understands that the unwavering support of his followers in the face of persistent mendacity and vitriol is profoundly disheartening for his political opposition. The ordinary rules of politics seem to have been suspended, and in some sense they have been. Those outside the Trump cult reflexively hope that the next outrage will finally erode Trump's support, and as his approval ratings remain buoyant through successive transgressions against decency and common sense, many become inclined to hopelessness and malaise. This is what Trump and his enablers are depending upon in 2020.
Luckily, such a strategy can be defeated through a simple technique: remain hopeful. This is not a paean to the power of "positive thinking." Thought of course is not enough. Speech and (especially) action are what count. Trump can only win (he only ever won in the first place) by making millions of people cynical and disillusioned- he only becomes sufficiently tolerable (even to his ardent supporters) by creating the impression that the whole world is almost as corrupt and benighted as he is.
Pointing out the obvious falsehood of that lie is simple. However much venality, vulgarity, and corruption there are in the world racism, sexism, homophobia, and xenophobia remain wrong. Murdering journalists is evil, as is taking children away from their parents. Soliciting help from a foreign power to win an election is unpatriotic. Nazis are not fine people. Most of the American people understand these basic truths, and if we stand up for them on election day in November 2020, Donald Trump will be sent home to private life. Neither the fervent obtuseness of Trump's supporters nor the vehement disagreements among his opponents can change that fact. Spreading the news, through word and deed, that Trump can be defeated will make it so, for the simple reason that it is true, and Trump's only hope lies in making people forget it.
Repudiate violence. Stay positive. If you fulfill these two tasks, you may be sure that whatever else you do will produce progress. Contribute to a political campaign. Volunteer to man phone banks or canvas neighborhoods. Raise consciousness about climate change. Rally against discriminatory immigration policies. Fight for better health care or against gun violence. Campaign against student debt. Whether you do all of these things or only one, what will make them land with positive effect are priorities #1 and 2. If we repudiate violence and stay positive, in the long run we (that is to say, the American people) will win.
Politics can not be conducted in ignorance of the history and culture of other nations.
Tuesday, November 26, 2019
Friday, November 01, 2019
There Are Only Two Ways that this Ends
Watching or reading the breathless coverage of the impeachment inquiry playing out in the House of Representatives, one would be forgiven for imagining that it is a drama pulsating with suspense. Will the House impeach? Will the Senate convict? Tune in tomorrow for our next exciting chapter. While both questions obviously spring to mind spontaneously, their answers are almost as spontaneously obvious: Yes, and No.
With regard to the first "Yes," Donald Trump has confessed to impeachable offenses on live television. Even if the president had not tried to coerce his Ukrainian counterpart (which he clearly did- the famous "quid pro quo" implicit in the phrase "do us a favor"), the use of his Article II powers as chief diplomat to seek help from a foreign government against a domestic political opponent is a textbook abuse of power. Add to this his transgression of Congressional authority, his resort to bribery, and a myriad other offenses, and anyone who has the least understanding of our constitutional order knows that the House must and will pass a Bill of Impeachment. A failure to impeach would be a gross dereliction of duty at this juncture, and arguments to the contrary by figures such as Louis Gohmert or Devin Nunes are rooted in grotesque fantasies.
But to expect this impeachment to result in Trump's removal from office would be to indulge in a fantasy just as absurd. The president still enjoys upwards of 80% approval among Republican voters in most polls. He has the power to "primary out" any Republican lawmaker that breaks ranks with him on any question, much less that of his own impeachment. Trump proved this in the case of Mark Sanford, ex-governor of South Carolina, who lost his House seat merely for suggesting that the president should be more polite. Under those conditions, expecting the 20 Republican senators that would have to vote with the Democrats in order for Trump to be removed from office to do so is wishful thinking of a delusional degree.
So if Trump must be impeached by the House but he will not be removed by the Senate, then how does this end? To arrive at the correct range of possible answers, one must first understand that the impeachment of Donald Trump will not end in the Senate. The impeachment is not a criminal trial, it is a deliberation over Trump's fitness for office. The arguments will be laid out for and against, and they (unfortunately, given the realities of the situation) will be voted on twice: the first time by the Senate, the second time by the electorate at large, in November of 2020. The final outcome of Donald J. Trump's impeachment hinges upon this second vote.
If the electorate deems the president fit to serve despite all of his abuses of power, then we will enter a new phase of our history as a nation. The president is already willing to use his office in the unrestrained pursuit of his own personal political (and financial) interests, even though he knows he is subject to the sanction of the voters in 2020. If he passes that threshold unscathed, he will feel even more liberated and immune to the consequences of official corruption. By the middle of his second term he will be so far on the wrong side of the law that, were the courts and Congress working according to anything that resembles our regular constitutional order, he would be subject to prosecution as soon as he left office. He will thus have to either find some way to remain president for life or undermine the normal operation of our institutions to protect himself and his family. What that would look like or how it would function could take on a number of forms (for example, disenfranchising voters of color by various means so as to guarantee that his successor would be a cat's paw), but one could be sure that it would entail the end of the Republic as we know it.
Alternatively, the impeachment of Donald Trump could result in his removal from office, only belatedly. If voters send Trump home in 2020, along with several of the Republican senators that voted for his acquittal, the constitutional order will have (eventually) operated as it was originally designed. Whether the administration that replaces Trump's will enjoy more success in managing policy, foreign and domestic, is an open question. But at least such a transition would guarantee the Republic in the abstract a new lease on life.
We have lived through periods like this before: when large groups of Americans gave their support to movements like the KKK or McCarthyism. The voters who are supporting Trump are expressing a similar willingness to trade away constitutional safeguards in pursuit of what they perceive to be urgent political ends (curtailing immigration, banning abortion, cutting taxes, etc.). The previous movements that presaged Trumpism failed, and the constitutional order persisted. But none of those earlier movements had managed to capture the White House.
The stakes of Trump's impeachment are thus very high. If Trump is not ultimately removed from office his subversion of the constitution will be made permanent, and the American experiment in democracy will effectively end. But that outcome does not hinge on what happens in the Senate. It will be decided, once and for all, at the ballot box in November of 2020.
With regard to the first "Yes," Donald Trump has confessed to impeachable offenses on live television. Even if the president had not tried to coerce his Ukrainian counterpart (which he clearly did- the famous "quid pro quo" implicit in the phrase "do us a favor"), the use of his Article II powers as chief diplomat to seek help from a foreign government against a domestic political opponent is a textbook abuse of power. Add to this his transgression of Congressional authority, his resort to bribery, and a myriad other offenses, and anyone who has the least understanding of our constitutional order knows that the House must and will pass a Bill of Impeachment. A failure to impeach would be a gross dereliction of duty at this juncture, and arguments to the contrary by figures such as Louis Gohmert or Devin Nunes are rooted in grotesque fantasies.
But to expect this impeachment to result in Trump's removal from office would be to indulge in a fantasy just as absurd. The president still enjoys upwards of 80% approval among Republican voters in most polls. He has the power to "primary out" any Republican lawmaker that breaks ranks with him on any question, much less that of his own impeachment. Trump proved this in the case of Mark Sanford, ex-governor of South Carolina, who lost his House seat merely for suggesting that the president should be more polite. Under those conditions, expecting the 20 Republican senators that would have to vote with the Democrats in order for Trump to be removed from office to do so is wishful thinking of a delusional degree.
So if Trump must be impeached by the House but he will not be removed by the Senate, then how does this end? To arrive at the correct range of possible answers, one must first understand that the impeachment of Donald Trump will not end in the Senate. The impeachment is not a criminal trial, it is a deliberation over Trump's fitness for office. The arguments will be laid out for and against, and they (unfortunately, given the realities of the situation) will be voted on twice: the first time by the Senate, the second time by the electorate at large, in November of 2020. The final outcome of Donald J. Trump's impeachment hinges upon this second vote.
If the electorate deems the president fit to serve despite all of his abuses of power, then we will enter a new phase of our history as a nation. The president is already willing to use his office in the unrestrained pursuit of his own personal political (and financial) interests, even though he knows he is subject to the sanction of the voters in 2020. If he passes that threshold unscathed, he will feel even more liberated and immune to the consequences of official corruption. By the middle of his second term he will be so far on the wrong side of the law that, were the courts and Congress working according to anything that resembles our regular constitutional order, he would be subject to prosecution as soon as he left office. He will thus have to either find some way to remain president for life or undermine the normal operation of our institutions to protect himself and his family. What that would look like or how it would function could take on a number of forms (for example, disenfranchising voters of color by various means so as to guarantee that his successor would be a cat's paw), but one could be sure that it would entail the end of the Republic as we know it.
Alternatively, the impeachment of Donald Trump could result in his removal from office, only belatedly. If voters send Trump home in 2020, along with several of the Republican senators that voted for his acquittal, the constitutional order will have (eventually) operated as it was originally designed. Whether the administration that replaces Trump's will enjoy more success in managing policy, foreign and domestic, is an open question. But at least such a transition would guarantee the Republic in the abstract a new lease on life.
We have lived through periods like this before: when large groups of Americans gave their support to movements like the KKK or McCarthyism. The voters who are supporting Trump are expressing a similar willingness to trade away constitutional safeguards in pursuit of what they perceive to be urgent political ends (curtailing immigration, banning abortion, cutting taxes, etc.). The previous movements that presaged Trumpism failed, and the constitutional order persisted. But none of those earlier movements had managed to capture the White House.
The stakes of Trump's impeachment are thus very high. If Trump is not ultimately removed from office his subversion of the constitution will be made permanent, and the American experiment in democracy will effectively end. But that outcome does not hinge on what happens in the Senate. It will be decided, once and for all, at the ballot box in November of 2020.
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