Joe Biden has won so much that he is, apparently, tired of winning.
That was the crux of his speech Monday night, after the electoral college vote that made official (or rather, yet again made official) his victory over Donald Trump. After a blizzard of false claims of fraud and frivolous lawsuits, the race is over. The attempt to overturn the people’s will failed.
In particular, the president-elect singled out courageous election officials – both Democrats and Republicans – who refused to be cowed by Trump’s attacks on the election. “We owe these public servants a debt of gratitude,” he said, “and our democracy survived because of them.” He didn’t name names, but one can reasonably assume he was talking about conservatives such as Georgia’s secretary of state, Brad Raffensperger, who publicly debunked pro-Trump conspiracy theories, or its voting system implementation manager, Gabriel Sterling, who warned that the president’s actions were stoking violence and has been since barraged with death threats.
As a rhetorical matter, the president-elect was right to praise the courage of Republicans who stood up to Trump’s attempt to overturn the election. He was also right to declare victory for democracy. It’s his job to put the country’s best foot forward.
But when it comes to the republic’s longer-term survival, the outcome remains far from certain. Because even the Republican officials who most bravely and patriotically stood up to Trump still don’t get it. The greatest threat to the American experiment isn’t the would-be autocrat on his way out the door. It’s the political party he continues to both lead and personify.
The problem begins with the Republican establishment’s relationship to reality itself. Since at least the 1980s, mainstream conservatives have embraced theories that are not well-supported by evidence. (It’s hard to make a compelling argument, for example, that tax cuts for the rich pay for themselves.) But in recent years, as Republicans went from being the party of Reagan to the party of Mitch McConnell, the Republican party has gone from spinning facts to rejecting them entirely.
Today, to be an aspiring Republican politician in good standing, one must espouse a set of core beliefs that are either entirely baseless or provably untrue: the climate crisis isn’t real; gun safety laws don’t reduce gun violence; masks don’t reduce the spread of Covid-19. To many observers, embracing a conspiracy theory about corrupted voting machines or late-night “ballot dumps” would represent a break with reality. But for much of the Republican elite, that’s not a problem. They broke with reality long ago.
The Republican establishment is also increasingly willing to disenfranchise eligible voters if it helps them win. Between 2008 and 2016, America lost 10% of its polling places, with cuts falling hardest on minority communities. Ever-broader voter purges have kicked millions of eligible, registered voters off red-state voting rolls. In Florida, the Republican state legislature rammed through a new law designed to disenfranchise former felons from voting – despite a 2018 ballot measure in which an overwhelming majority of Floridians voted to restore ex-felons’ rights.
These examples barely scrape the surface of the war on voting that Republican politicians, not just Trump, have waged in recent years. The president’s wild attempt to steal an election is a first in American history. But it didn’t come from nowhere. Trump simply absorbed his party establishment’s prevailing view – that it is acceptable to win elections through whatever means possible, including by throwing out large numbers of votes on technicalities, hoping conservative judges put ideology over country, or stoking fears about nonexistent fraud – and took that approach to its logical conclusion.
Perhaps that’s why so many Republican elected officials endorsed Trump’s baseless attacks on our democratic process well before the first 2020 ballot was cast. Explicit calls to replace democracy with a different form of government remain relatively rare. But the idea that power should be clung to using any means possible – and that the guardrails of our republic should be ignored or dismantled – is entirely within the Republican mainstream. That’s why Republicans in the Senate refused to call witnesses during Trump’s impeachment trial.
The status quo – a Republican party that attacks democracy without rejecting it entirely – cannot hold. Over the long term, we’ll either have two parties that believe in the consent of the governed, or we’ll have a new and more autocratic form of government. We can’t have both. Yet many of the laudably brave Republicans who stood up to Trump don’t yet recognize that he is a symptom, not a cause. Brad Raffensperger says he supports Georgia’s Republican senators Kelly Loeffler and David Perdue in the state’s 5 January runoff, even though both of them called for him to be fired for defending the election results. Gabriel Sterling, the Georgia official who warned election misinformation could lead to violence, agrees. “Senator Perdue and Senator Loeffler, I feel bad for them,” he said. “I have one of their signs in my yard.”
It’s commendable that a handful of Republicans stood up to a president and met the low bar he presented. But it’s not enough. Those who have admirably protected the American experiment from Trump must help America save it from the McConnell-era Republican party. That doesn’t mean Republicans need to change their minds about taxes, regulations, guns, or a host of other a host of other issues that divide the parties. But they do have to agree that democracy is the best way to settle our disagreements – and that those who don’t believe in democracy doesn’t deserve our votes, no matter how much we may support their other positions.
Some politicians, such as the retiring congressman Paul Mitchell, have recognized that this is a time for choosing, and publicly left the Republican party over its assault on our nation’s most fundamental ideals. But too many genuinely patriotic Americans believe that they can have it both ways. They still view a politician’s support for authoritarianism as a mere character trait, rather than as the dealbreaker it must be for the country to survive.
During his dangerous post-campaign campaign, Trump frequently used a two-part phrase to signal what he thought the country most needed. “WISDOM & COURAGE,” he declared, via tweet. Ironically, he was right. American democracy only made it through this tumultuous year thanks to profiles in courage. But over the haul, courage won’t be enough. We’ll need more profiles in wisdom, too.
Source: Elections - theguardian.com
