Category Archives: government

Talktalktalktalktalk

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You might think that somebody who has endured the number of filibusters your faithful observer has endured would join those who think they should be banned or in some way limited.

You’d be wrong.

Those who favor limits of some kind appear to miss a point.  A limited filibuster is not a filibuster.

Filibusters are not intended to be entertaining although there were some of those that your observer endured that had their moments—the night then-state senator Sam Graves started reading the names of the high school graduates from his district and started over every time he was interrupted.

Or when Senator Marie Chappelle-Nadal decided to make a filibuster an audience-participation event and invited people listening to the Senate’s internet feed to send her text messages suggesting topics, or asking questions she could answer.

Then there was Senator Matt Bartle’s one-man version of Jimmy Stewart’s imitation of one in “Mr. Smith goes to Washington.”  He lasted something like 17 hours, taking advantage of quorum calls to dash off to the bathroom while the Senate was idle and waiting for enough Senators to get off their office couches and sleepily go into the chamber just long enough to be counted “present.”

I can recall several of them that lasted so long I had to leave the Senate press table to go to the Missourinet newsroom to do the morning newscasts.  At least a couple of times I listened to the internet feed while I was putting the newscasts together.  I think there might even have been a couple of times when I returned to the Capitol and the senators were still burning legislative time off the clock.

They’re most effective in the final weeks when time is running short and the debate calendars are running long with bills that are ready for final votes. The House limits the amount of time someone can hold the floor so the Missouri House doesn’t have much chance of having all that fun.  But the Senate has no such limits.

And it never should.  Nor should Congress.

The filibuster can be a futile time of railing against the inevitable—as can happen when one party has a two-thirds majority and therefore doesn’t need to compromise on anything and can just wait until the minority, or part of the minority, chews up precious hours of debate time and finally runs out of energy.

They’re most effective when the numbers are closer.  Many filibusters are resolved when opposing sides finally decide to find some compromises that previously had been rejected and start talking about lessening the most objectionable parts of the legislation.  But when one party is so dominant that it doesn’t need to compromise on anything, compromise is hard to see

When that happens, the participants in a filibuster hope some members of the other party will start seeing the time their bills needed to gain passage is disappearing, and they start pressuring their majority colleagues to stop this thing so there will be a chance for passage of other bills before the final adjournment.

As unpleasant as most of them are, as many times as this veteran observer of them realized hours of his life were disappearing in the ocean of blather and boredom (the same hours would disappear more pleasantly at home and in bed), they are an important part of government, a protection against steamrolling the minority or a faction of the majority.  When you have no other weapons; when you are heavily outnumbered even by members of your own party; when you want to kill an abhorrent idea or even one that could be better if the overbearing sponsor doesn’t want anybody tampering with his precious idea—-talk becomes the only weapon.

Filibusters are awful things.  But today’s pest is tomorrow’s ally. The tables might turn and those who are forced to listen today might be the talkers tomorrow and it’s important to recognize that possible reciprocity.  Respecting in others the tool you might need to use someday yourself is important.

They work better when the competing parties respect each other enough to be willing to work out their differences.  But when the two sides are so antagonistic that talk is impossible, extensive talk becomes even more essential.

Filibusters are part of our democratic-republic form of government.  They might not be nice but they’re essential.

Sometimes they result in talking a bill to death.  Other times they talk a bill into a better life.

Tools, after all, often have dual purposes.  And the filibuster is an important tool in our political system.

Son of Fun with Snowplows

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A few days ago we suggested the Missouri Department of Transportation follow Scotland’s lead and give clever names to its snowplows.  We have seen any signs that the department has a sense of humor yet but Minnesota’s Department of Transportation has joined the fun.

It ran a poll on fifty potential snowplow names.  Participants could vote for eight names. The top eight at the end are:

Plowy McPlowFace (Inspired, no doubt, by a contest several years ago run by the British National Environmental Research Council to pick a name for its new polar research vessel.  More than 27,000 respondents chose “RRS Boaty McBoatface.” The council decided after seeing the results that the name wasn’t respectful enough of the council or its ship and said the contest was meant to just get suggestions, not to pick the real name. The council later announced the boat would be named for naturalist and broadcaster David Attenborough. However, one of the boat’s underwater research submarines will carry the less distinguished name).

The other seven:

Ope, Just Gonna Plow Right Past Ya; Duck Duck Orange Truck; Plow Bunyan; Snowbi Wan Kenobi; F. Salt Fitzgerald; Darth Blader; and The Truck Formerly Known as Plow.

Some of the others: Buzz Iceclear, C3PSnow, Edward Blizzardhands, For Your Ice Only, Mary Tyler More Snow, Plowabunga, TheWinterstate.

(We could have Winterstate 70, Winterstate 435, etc.)

If you think you can stand it, the others are on the department webpage: Name a Snowplow contest – MnDOT (state.mn.us).

In northern areas such as Scotland and Minnesota, the snow is different than it is here. And people can play in it—and do, for many months of the year. Here, it’s often wet, heavy stuff that clogs the snowblower that we bought at Sears—back when had a Sears store from which to buy things. It’s fun up there. It’s a big pain down here.

But, hey, MODOT, why not let us add at least a little levity our misery. Have a contest.  People who submit the top ten snowplow names get a new shovel they can use to clear out their driveways.

Can’t government be a little fun?

 

 

 

INTERNECINE WARFARE

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There is no joy in watching the divisions with the Republican Party.  Some are forecasting the end of the party as we have known it—conservative leadership at times, loyal opposition at others as the parties have swapped national leadership for more than two centuries.

But it is easy to project the death of either of our political parties.  And times have shown that such projections have been wrong.  Let us hope that Jon Meacham’s recent book that we often wrote about during last year’s campaign remains true: that Americans, when on the brink of destruction of our democracy, have coalesced and not gone over the cliff.

The other day, your noble researcher was going through some old newspapers looking for something else when, as often happens, something else caught his eye.

There was this cartoon at the bottom of page one of the June 23, 1912 edition of the Galveston Daily News:

The Republican Party was so badly divided that there was talk of a third party materializing out of the severe division.

And in 1912 that is exactly what happened.

The Chicago GOP convention nominated William Howard Taft for a second term.  The third tier of the headline speaks of resentment, “wild enthusiasm” for a losing candidate to threatened to form his own party, and did.  Teddy Roosevelt was the Bull Moose among Republicans.  In fact that became the nickname of the Progressive Party under whose label he ran in 1912, complaining that Taft’s policies were too conservative.

Times obviously were much different in 1912.

And this leads to another sidetrack.  When the Progressive Party met in August, it referred to its platform as “A Contract With the People” (so Newt was not particularly original all those years ago). Roosevelt told his followers, “Our cause is based on the eternal principle of righteousness; and even though we, who now lead may for the time fail, in the end the cause itself shall triumph.”

That’s an important thing to recall in these days when those in the progressive win of the Democratic Party are being ridiculed for promoting causes that are criticized as radical.  Her are some of the “radical” issues promoted by TR’s Progressive Party:

The Progressive Party had its own version of “Drain the Swamp” in its platform when it said, “To destroy this invisible Government, to dissolve the unholy alliance between corrupt business and corrupt politics is the first task of the statesmanship of the day.”

They called for such outlandish things as registration of lobbyists and disclosure of and limits to campaign contributions. They wanted a national health service that included all of government’s medical agencies. They wanted a social insurance program that provided for disabled, unemployed, and elderly citizens. They wanted to limit abilities of judges to limit strikes. They wanted to establish minimum wages for women, an eight-hour workday for everybody, and a workers compensation system for people injured on the job. They also promoted an inheritance tax—the “death tax” contemporary Republicans have targeted for years. And they wanted a Commissioner of Federal Securities. They said citizens, not legislatures, should elect United States Senators, letting women vote, and holding primary elections for state and federal office nominations. They favored giving citizens of the states the rights of initiative, referendum, and recall.

We haven’t read enough old newspapers to see if these terrible ideas were branded as “socialist” by non-progressive members of the two established parties. But they do show that today’s “progressive” ideas have a tendency to prevail through time.

Getting back on-topic:

The second page of the Daily News reported the 1912 Republican convulsions were hardly new:

Different people look at the 2021 convulsions within the Republican Party through different lenses.  Some worry that the party is self-destructing or that the Party is headed down the road that Germany headed down in the 1930s, or that the party will so badly divide and that so many members will defect that Democrats will become even more dominant.

An excellent question.

Predictions of the deaths of either of our two major parties have proven to be remarkably inaccurate.  Democrat Woodrow Wilson won the 1912 election with 41.8% of the vote, carrying forty of the forty-eight states. Roosevelt carried six and had 27.4% of the votes. Taft carried two states and got 23.2% of the votes.  There was a fourth candidate.  A Socialist.  Eugene V. Debs got six percent of the votes.

Wilson was re-elected in 1916 as this country hurtled toward a war he knew we could not stay out of, knowing that the popular campaign phrase, “He kept us out of war” was false.

In 1920, Republican Warren G. Harding got 60.4% of the popular vote.

In 1924, Republican Calvin Coolidge got 54% of the vote.

In 1928, Herbert Hoover got 58.2% of the vote.

It is reasonable to express grave concern about the future of the Republican Party and the sizeable and noisy segment of it that reminds many of a cult. While it is dangerous to dismiss the cult-culture segment of the party, it also is dangerous to declare the Republican Party cannot survive its latest division, and it is dangerous to laugh at the internecine warfare within it.

Remember 1912.  Then remember 1920. And 1924.  And 1928.

And also:

Don’t forget the “radical” ideas of Roosevelt’s progressives.

Time doesn’t heal wounds. It becomes the history that just records them. People overcome them. Or, at least, they have up to now.  And, we hope, they will again.

How a Possum Stopped Radicalization 

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We’ve seen something such as this before:

A political party seized by a charismatic leader with radicalized followers at a time of national division sees voter suppression as one of the keys to maintaining its power and threatens to drive the other party into oblivion.  But the party develops an internal fracture between the radical wing and the more traditional element and there are fears that IT will be the party going into oblivion.

From this contentious time there emerges a possum and over time, it rescues both parties.

This was the political situation in Missouri fifteen decades ago.

During the Civil War, the interim government—Governor Price and several members of the legislature had fled to Arkansas to set up a government in exile that finished the war headquartered in Texas—Radical Republicans left in control in Missouri adopted a loyalty oath to make sure Missouri would have only Union-loyal officials in charge.  The Radical movement had begun about the time the Republican Party began in the mid-1850s, their name coming from their demand for immediate end to slavery. During the war, they were opposed by the moderate wing of the party led by Abraham Lincoln, who had run fourth in the 1860 election in this state, as well as by Democrats, who were more oriented toward southern sympathies.

The Radicals confirmed their control of Missouri government with the election of Governor Thomas Fletcher in 1864, thanks in part to the organizational skills of St. Louis lawyer Charles D. Drake who in 1863 argued for a new state constitution and disenfranchisement of all Confederate sympathizers. Carl Schurz, a future U.S. Senator and a leader of Missouri’s German citizens, called him “inexorable” and said Republicans “especially in the country districts, stood much in awe of him,” which might sound familiar today.

Radical Republicans pushed through The Drake Constitution, named because of his influence, in 1865. It contained a harsh loyalty oath that basically denied citizenship rights to anyone who would not pledge that they had given no support to the rebellion. Regardless of loyalty during the war, even if a person were a Union General, citizens could not vote, practice a profession, or serve in positions of public trust unless they swore to that oath. Drake and his Radical Republicans produced a list of 81 actions that defined disloyalty. For six years the Drake-led Radicals controlled politics in Missouri and Drake became a United States Senator.

Missouri’s moderate Republicans were reeling during those years and Democrats feared for their own party’s existence.  And this is when the possum was born that saved both political groups.

Drake’s Radicals began to see rising opposition from those who called themselves Liberal Republicans—remember this was 1870 and the two words, “liberal” and “Republican” were not an oxymoron.

The Liberals had had enough of Drake and his Radicals by the time the State Republican Convention was held in Jefferson City on August 31, 1870.  The Committee on Platforms filed two reports, a majority report from the Liberals favored immediate re-enfranchisement of former Confederates.  The Radical, minority, report favored a statewide vote on the question. With former Confederate supporters banned from voting, the outcome of the election pretty clearly would have maintained Radical Control.  When the convention adopted the Radical position, about 250 Liberals walked out and nominated their own ticket with Benjamin Gratz Brown its candidate for Governor.  The Radicals nominated Joseph McClurg for a second two-year term.

Democrats, still weak shortly after the U. S. Supreme Court threw out part of the loyalty oath, decided not to put up a statewide ticket.  William Hyde, the editor of The St. Louis Republican, a Democratic newspaper despite its name, is credited with creating what became known as “The Possum Policy.”  Instead of running its own slate, the Democrats threw their support behind the Liberal Republican candidate, Brown.

Walter B. Stevens, in Missouri, the Center State, 1821-1915, records an exchange of telegrams after the State Democratic Convention decided to support Liberal Republicans in which former U. S. Senator John Brooks Henderson—who did not run for re-election after voting against convicting President Johnson of impeachment charges—told Brown, “The negroes of this state are free. White men only are now enslaved. The people look to you and your friends to deliver them from this great wrong. Shall they look in vain?”

Brown wired back, “The confidence of the people of this State shall not be disappointed. I will carry out this canvass to its ultimate consequence so that no freeman not convicted of crime shall   henceforth be deprived on an equal voice in our government.”

The Democrats’ “Possum Policy” helped Brown defeated McClurg by about 40,000 votes, effectively ending the Radical Republican reign in Missouri.

The Liberal Republicans, created for the sole purpose of ending radicalism within the party, could not survive on their own. Governor Brown’s Secretary, Frederick N. Judson, reflected, “A party based upon a single issue, called into being to meet a single emergency, could not in the nature of things become permanent…and though its party life was short, it is entitled to the imperishable glory of having destroyed the last vestige of the Civil War in Missouri. A nobler record no party could have.”

National Democrats failed to follow the Missouri party’s “Possum Policy” and in 1872 nominated a presidential ticket of Horace Greeley, the New York newspaper publisher then in failing physical and mental health, and Benjamin Brown of Missouri—-a move that antagonized the national Liberal Republican movement and led to a crushing defeat for Democrats as Liberal Republicans opposed to the Grant administration had no place to go and so supported it anyway. With that, Liberal Republican movement died nationally.

In Missouri, the re-enfranchised Democrats elected Silas Woodson to succeed Brown as Governor, beginning Democratic control of the governorship until Republican Herbert Hadley was elected in 1908.

Missourians adopted a new constitution in 1875, throwing out the punitive Drake Constitution.  It lasted until our present State Constitution was adopted in 1945, the longest-standing constitution in state history.

Republicans paid a price to overcome the radicalization of their party 150 years ago but paying that price made sure that the rights of thousands of people were no longer endangered or no longer remained limited.

Being out of power did not and does not mean being without influence. History tells us we became a better nation because political courage manifested itself at the right time within the Republican Party.  In the long term both parties saved themselves.

We are not advocating that the Republican National Committee adopt a “possum policy” in 2022 or in 2024 to stamp out radicalization within the party nor are we saying splitting the party will be the solution now that it was then. But history reminds us of the dangers of radical politics and the sacrifices that have to be made, sometimes on both sides of the aisle, to make sure it does not overwhelm us.

Notes From A Quiet Street—Winter of Our Usual Discontent Edition

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This is one of the best days of the entire year.  It might be colder than Hell (actually the weather in Hell, Michigan last night was quite similar to ours—zero with 2-4 inches of snow expected) but today PITCHERS AND CATCHERS report for spring training in Florida and Arizona for the Cardinals and the Royals!

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In my previous life I would have gotten up at 4, put on a coat and a tie and my best winter coat, gone out in the 6-below darkness, swept about four or five inches of snow off of my car, backed out of my snowy driveway, and hoped a snowplow had cleared the way to the Missourinet newsroom.

I have a friend at the Y who used to deliver the mail.

Don’t tell us retirement isn’t great.

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Shot number one is in the arm. It’s February.  By the time of the second shot, there will be baseball. And racing.  Soon after that, there will be color in the back yard grass. And a green a haze will be seena few weeks later in the trees.  This is the season known as Ulocking (see an earlier entry).  In so many ways, it feels as if a cell door has been unlocked—or did until the coldest week of the year hit. Your faithful observer who despises winter almost had to whip himelf to force a trip to the end of the driveway for the morning paper and the afternoon mail.

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Years ago I heard the story of an old farmer who had just endured a drought year and the snow brought little relief.  “The snow was so dry,” he said, “that I just pushed it into a ditch and burned it.”   It kind of seemed like that when I trudge out to get the morning newspaper—snow so cold it crunched underfoot  and even seemed to squeak a little bit, and lacked enough moisture to hold it to gether and make a snowman.

But at least it’s not January.  That’s kind of a glass only half-full-of-snow optimism speaking.

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Congratulations to our General Assembly for proving me wrong.  Recommended pay raises for elected officials have been approved, their first raises since 2008. Enough of our State Representatives refused to disapprove  of the recommendation that it has gone into effect. The House needed a two-thirds vote to reject the recommendation and it came up about ten votes short of disapproval.

Good for them!  The legislators won’t benefit until their next terms, if they get them.  The statewide officials will get 2.5% hikes in each of the next two years.

Your faithful observer can’t be correct all the time.  Our forecast a few weeks ago that the raises would be refused again was wrong.  And that’s okay.

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Late-night talk show hosts are facing a grim reality now that we have a new president.  They need to do a lot of new shows because re-runs of the shows of the past four years that have featured Trump-based humor, or what they hope was Trump-based humor,  are terribly dated. Donald Trump’s exit from the Oval Office must place enormous strain on the writing staffs because, well, Joe Biden is so relatively bland. Where’s the humor in somebody who puts fighting the COVID pandemic at the top of his to-do list?  HAVING a to-do list, at least one that is not self-centered, is a poor match for what they’ve been writing about for four years.

The low-hanging humor fruit has fallen off the tree and rolled to Mar-A-Lago.

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Speaking of the aforesaid ex-chief executive—-we watched the town hall gathering last night with the current chief executive. We thought he wandered more than necessary, interrupted himself too often, talked around some questions and went on excessively to the point that some of the answers to particpants’ questions got lost in the talk.  But we also thought, “Can we imagine his predecessor doing this?  Just talking to folks about the concerns they have?  Would he ever have reassured a child she shouldn’t live in fear of the virus?” Some people care about other people. Some people care about themselves. We think we know which one we saw last night.

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A bill in the legislature would bar any state law enforcement officer, or other state officers or employees, from serving as a law enforcement officer or sheriff or community police officer if they enforce, or try to enforce, any federal firearms law the act defines as illegal in Missouri, the Constitution notwithstanding.

Unfortunatley, this proposal doesn’t go far enough.

During the recent political campaign, one party accused another party of advocating a “defund the police” policy.  This proposal simplifies the process.  Just “de-police” the policy instead.  And let me be the first to suggest that after de-policing the federal law, the funds used for the police could be given back to taxpayers—who could use them to buy guns.

Genius!

As long as we are forbidding Missouri law enforcement officers from enforcing federal gun laws, let’s think of other things our Missouri peace officers should be banned from doing. How about taking away a Highway Patrolman’s badge and banning him or her from any other law enforcement job if they write a ticket for speeding on a federal highway? Funds saved under that program could be used to buy more ambulances and pay for more EMTs who could be stationed on those roads.

You might be inspired to suggest other amendments that would extend this idea to other areas where state officials have no business enforcing federal laws. You may suggest them in the comments box at the end of this entry.

Let the fun begin.

 

If I Were a Lawyer–

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—in the District of Columbia, I would have been at work for a more than a month signing up as clients Capitol and District police officers and their families for a gigantic personal injury lawsuit against Donald J. Trump. I imagine there have been some pretty busy attorneys already.

I also might be signing up the families of the men and women now in custody and facing prison time because they believed Trump summoned them to Washington to do his bidding and upend the 2020 election results by stopping the certification of the Electoral College votes.  These families are facing economic damage caused by the loss of a wage-earner and might face a certain level of social ostracism because a family member took part in January 6th (there is no need to say “the January 6th insurrection” or “riot,” because this is a specific date that will mean something, as 9-11 means something without further definition). A massive class action civil lawsuit featuring dozens of hours of powerful witness-stand testimony will be difficult to counter by defense counsel saying, “He didn’t really mean it to turn out that way” or calling the damage lawsuits violations of his First Amendment free speech rights.

One might be able to say many things and escape penalty for saying them. But there is a penalty for the damage those words produce.

The creativity of the legal profession is likely to produce other clients with other claims of other kinds.  It would not be surprising that Mr. Trump’s financial empire, such as it is, to be placed in incredible jeopardy.  It will take legal representation of epic brilliance to defend him from devastating financial liability.

In every lawsuit, in every argument, Trump’s involvement in the worst assault on our system of government since the secession of southern states if not in all national history will be recalled. Every case will batter him personally as well as financially and likely will undermine his political credibility further.

But civil court proceedings are not the only difficulty facing the former president. Criminal investigations of the financial dealings of Trump and his family as well as investigations into his efforts to change election results—and who knows what other possibilities exist—appear to be lurking in the offices of federal and state prosecutors.

The chutzpah displayed in his post-trial claim that he will be a significant influence in the 2022 elections or a viable presidential candidate for 2024 will become more questionable as each of these possible civil and criminal cases moves forward.

The aftermath of his second impeachment trial could be worse for him than the week just past.

Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell’s post-trial speech scathingly rejecting Trump’s presidency can be seen, might be seen, by many as the first significant step by the Republican Party to be a party it used to be—a party greater than Donald Trump.

Some see McConnell’s speech as duplicitous, pointing to his former role as Majority Leader when he suggested the House impeachment charges should not be delivered to the Senate while Trump was still in office and then claiming the Senate could not convict Trump because the charges had not been filed before Trump left Washington.

Although McConnell’s statement is unlikely to lessen public cynicism toward government, his direct post-trial attack on Trump is something on which the party can build—if it will.

In his own post-trial statement, Trump never mentioned January 6.  He never mentioned the assault on the capitol.  He never mentioned any regrets that his mob imperiled the people who voted to acquit him. He never extended any sympathies to the people injured in the assault or who died that day and in succeeding days because of those events. He still has not admitted that he lost the election, continuing to emphasize his 75-million votes, still refusing to acknowledge that somebody else got seven-million more through the same processes that gave him 75-million. He promised to reveal a new “vision” soon for American greatness. Let us hope his new definition is better than his old one.

Having survived the latest political questions about his actions that day, perhaps he should spend some time developing a vision for dealing with the legal problems likely to come.  No beautiful wall around Mar-A-Lago will keep the lawyers out.

Those in the Middle

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Abraham Lincoln was born 212 years ago today.  He was the second Republican to run for President and the first to win. A lot can happen to a political party, and has, in the 160 years since he entered the White House.

The party made a critical decision about its future when it nominated him, a moderate in a time of rising radicalism, to run for President of the United States. Today’s Republicans might be facing a decision about their party’s future that is no less serious than the party’s decision in 1860. There is concern, however, about who are the people who will make that decision or who will take it in its future direction.

Sarah Longwell runs a conservative website, The Bulwark, and does a conservative podcast.

She made an interesting point this week about some people who have, by and large, escaped the spotlight that is shining on our ex-president and on the insurrectionists he is accused of spending months motivating to take actions that will put many of them in prison.

“Hold Them All Accountable,” says the headline on her website entry last Tuesday.  She asks, “What of the elected officials whose months of lies agitated and radicalized the crowd, even before it was incited to insurrection?”

And who are these people she thinks are running under the radar?

“Finding 17 Republican senators to convict Trump is a Herculean task, not least because many of them joined him in feeding the lie that brought these people to the Capitol in the first place. In this regard, this trial is unique for having members of the jury who are not just not impartial, but are both witnesses and accomplices to the crime.”

Longwell reminds us to remember that more than one-fourth of Republicans in the Senate were on-record objecting to certifying the Electoral College results. She calls their demands for investigations into Trump-claimed extensive voter fraud “nothing less than hype-man interjections meant to bolster Trump’s claims that he ‘won in a landslide’ and that the election was being stolen.”

She especially targets our own Josh Hawley along with colleagues Ted Cruz, Ron Johnson, and Lindsey Graham who “were happy to jump in front of every available television camera to discuss the unprecedented allegations of voter fraud no matter how discredited those allegations were.”

She also scorns some house members: Louis Gohmert who suggested “violence in the streets” was the only thing left after a federal court refused to order Vice President Mike Pence to reverse the results; Madison Cawthorn, who suggested people call their congressmen and “lightly threaten” them if they didn’t reverse the results; Mo Brooks, who said just before the insurrection, “Today is the day American patriots start taking down names and kicking ass.”

She recalls 126 House Republicans joined the Texas Attorney General’s lawsuit questioning the results in four swing states.

“So now, while those arrested for the Capitol attack are—rightly—facing hard time, the Republicans and members of Conservatism Inc., who filled these thugs’ heads with poison and pointed them toward the Capitol are ‘moving on,’ their campaign fund flush with the millions they raised claiming they were going to ‘stop the steal.’”

She quotes former Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell’s observation that, “The mob was fed lies. They were provoked by their president and other powerful people.”

Longwell says that means that ‘the elected officials who fed these people lies should be held accountable in some way, too.”

Sarah Longwell finishes, “Call witnesses. Prosecute the case. And never forget who the enemies of democracy were.”

She was interviewed on NPR”s Morning Edition earlier this week and host Sacha Pfeifer asked her how penalties could be exacted against those in Congress who supported The Big Lie. She answered, “Unfortunately, the electoral process is going to take a long time to play out…So it has to be the rest of our culture. It has to be with the process of shame.  You need the business community to stand up and say we draw a bright line for people who objected to this election, that that is disqualifying to hold public office for people whotold lies to voters. Fifty million people believing that the election was stolen is an existential threat to our democracy.”  More specifically for the business community, “Withholding their donations, saying we are not going to donate to politicians who objected to a free and fair election.”

She thinks newspapers have a role with “editorial boards calling relentlessly for the resignations…We’ve got billboards up through our Republican Accountability Project calling for a lot of these foficials to resign. There is—needs to be a relentless public pressure that says what they did was wrong and be very clear about that becuae it was wrong.”

Longwell thinks it will be difficult for government to have a Biblical “physician, heal thyself” attitude because “so many Republicans participated in this problem that they’re not really going to hold each other accountable…Democrats essentially have to do it (but) then it looks entirely political, which is why the rest of the culture sort of has to step in here.”

She urged “as many Republican senators as possible (to) stand up and do the right thing now because it’s really going to matter, showing people that there is come accountability even within your own party.”

The entire article is at: https://thebulwark.com/hold-them-all-accountable/

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Sarah Longwell might not set well with the Trump true believers.  She has a background as a Republican strategist and is a former Senior Vice-President and Communications Director for noted GOP lobbyist Richard Berman.  She now runs her own communications company in DC. She was the first woman to sit on the board of Log Cabin Republicans, a Republican organization that refused to endorse Donald Trump in 2016.  She resigned as chairman of the board when the organization endorsed him in 2019.  Now a Never-Trumper, she leads a group called Republicans for the Rule of Law, an organization she founded with noted conservative writer Bill Kristol.  The organization advocated for Trump’s impeachment and removal two years ago.

Impeachment Rides Again

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The second Senate trial of Donald Trump begins today with Trump’s same threatening shadow over those who might personally and intellectually believe he deserves no sympathy but who are unable to resist his politically-threatening presence. .

If it is improper to impeach and convict someone whose behavior in office so strongly breaches all bounds of propriety after he or she vacates the office, how then can that person be held accountable for his direct or indirect actions?  How is justice to be exacted on behalf of the Republic?

Is Lady Justice to be stripped of her scales by the calendar or does she carry them into his or her political afterlife ?

The Senate voted 56-44 yesterday afternoon that Lady Justice is mobile.

We encourage you to watch these events on C-SPAN as much as you can. Stay away from partisan sources.  Watch, listen, be informed by an organization that lets you watch, form your own opinions, and decide if justice is done.

There is considerable doubt that enough Republicans will join with Democrats to reach the two-thirds majority needed to convict Trump. Based on the vote that the proceeding is constitutional, Democrats need to pick up eleven Republican votes to convict.

In truth, conviction would appear to be more likely if these proceedings were done in secret as we observe the strong secret caucus vote of confidence for Representative Lynne Cheney who was facing party punishment for voting to impeach.  But the public vote to take away committee appointments from Marjorie Taylor Greene for her outlandish advocacy of numerous debunked conspiracies found few Republicans willing to step up.  It is easy to be courageous if those who seek to intimidate you do not know who you are. But courage in public despite a penalty that might be threatened or imposed is rare no matter how much it is justified.

Honor is achieved in the light, not in the darkness.

Should the Senate fail to generate the needed two-thirds vote to convict, the former president might once again proclaim victory.  It is a mistake for others to respect that proclamation.

Even if the final vote is 51-50, with the Vice President breaking a tie, the Senate will achieve a majority that Trump never achieved in either of his presidential elections.  In 2016 he achieved only 46.1%.  In 2020, he achieved only 46.9%.

Forget all of the pap about getting 74-million votes.  He lost. By millions of votes. Chris Kobach, whose investigation failed to turn up all the fraudulent votes Trump claimed were against him in 20-16 won’t be able to find fraudulent votes in 2020 either.  God knows Rudi Giuliani tried even harder last year than Kobach did in ’16, tried so hard he’s being sued for billions by the companies that made the voting machines.

Let all of the senators regardless of whose side they are on (willingly or fearfully) and all of us listen to and see the evidence from both sides.  Our Senators and 98 of their colleagues eventually will vote and we hope they will vote their conscience, not their fear of retribution.

And as we noted in observing Trump’s first trial, a verdict of “not guilty” is not the same as finding him “innocent.”   By whatever gauge anyone might use to consider Trump’s behavior, the word “innocent’ cannot be used with validity.

A lot of people who are in jail or are out on bond facing tough charges and hard time will not connect “innocent” to him.

(Incidentally, has anyone heard of Trump calling the families of those who are facing those charges, or calling the families of any of those who were hurt or who have died because of the onsurrection to offer any comfort or, in the case of police officers injured in protecting the building and the people who work in it, any sympathy?)

We shall wait for honor and courage to be displayed by those who sit in judgment of Donald J. Trump.

Patriot

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I am a patriot.  And I do things patriots do.

I stand for the national anthem.

I put my hand over my heart, or somewhere near it, when the flag passes by or when I say the Pledge of Allegiance.

When I say the pledge, I say it as a pledge not as a rote statement poorly delivered:

I pledge allegiance (pause)

To the flag (pause)

Of the United States of American (pause)

And to the Republic for which it stands (pause)

One nation (pause)

Under God (pause)

With Liberty and Justice for All.

After which I sometimes mutter, “Play Ball,” because it just seems like the right thing to do.

But I say the pledge the way it ought to be said:

“I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America (comma) and to the republic for which it stands—One nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”  I usually finish and drop my hand while other about me are saying “Under God.”

I don’t rush through it. It is my personal pledge, said as one not said as a group rote.  I confess that the phrase “under God” is bothersome because it assumes something we might believe but cannot know. Perhaps someday it will permissible to say, “One nation, hopefully under God….”

That position is heavily influenced by Abraham Lincoln, whose family lived in the town where I was born, and who practiced law as a circuit-riding attorney in the two towns where I was raised. He once supposedly said, “My concern is not whether God is on our side; My greatest concern is to be on God’s side, for God is always right.”  Scholars have not been able to confirm that Lincoln actually said that and the statement might be distilled from part of the oration given at Lincoln’s funeral in Springfield Illinois on May 4, 1865 by Reverend Matthew Simpson of the Methodist Episcopal Church, who had a “long and intimate friendship” with Lincoln:

“To a minister who said he hoped the Lord was on our side, he replied that it gave him no concern whether the Lord was on our side or not, “For,” he added, “I know the Lord is always on the side of right;” and with deep feeling added, “But God is my witness that it is my constant anxiety and prayer that both myself and this nation should be on the Lord’s side.”  

I stand for the flag, but I respect others who do not see the symbolism in our flag that I see. I have not walked in their shoes or in the shoes of their ancestors. I cannot be confident that I am on God’s side in such circumstances because to do so would be to assume that God is not on the side of others or wished others to be less free than me.  While others might be comfortable in assuming they know the mind of God and are therefore entitled to a definition of patriotism that allows them to judge others from their sacred viewpoint, I cannot reach that level of confidence. I prefer the other approach—hoping that I should be on God’s side rather than assuming that God is on mine.

It is a liberating rather than a confining position for it leaves me free to accept others and to see their possibilities, which I believe is the direction a great nation must go if it is to be even greater.

It enables me to suggest to those who cite early American naval hero Stephen Decatur’s after-dinner toast (“Our  Country! In her intercourse with foreign nations may she always be in the right; but right or wrong, our country!”) that adhering to such a sentiment requires no consideration of the narrowness of it.

English philosopher, lay theologian, critic, and writer G. K. Chesterton was more abrupt in dismissing the idea by saying it is equivalent to saying, “My Mother, drunk or sober.” His comment is drawn from his first book of essays, The Defendant, published in 1901.  The sixteenth chapter is “A Defence of Patriotism”

Better, I find, are words from Missouri Senator Carl Schurz, a German immigrant who became a Civil War General, St. Louis newspaper publisher, and later Secretary of the Interior, from the Senate Floor on February 29, 1872:

“The Senator from Wisconsin cannot frighten me by exclaiming, ‘My country, right or wrong.’ In one sense I say so too. My country; and my country is the great American Republic. My country, right or wrong; if right, to be kept right; and if wrong, to be set right.” 

He elaborated on those thoughts on October 17, 1899 at the Anti-Imperialistic Conference in Chicago:

“I confidently trust that the American people will prove themselves … too wise not to detect the false pride or the dangerous ambitions or the selfish schemes which so often hide themselves under that deceptive cry of mock patriotism: ‘Our country, right or wrong!’ They will not fail to recognize that our dignity, our free institutions and the peace and welfare of this and coming generations of Americans will be secure only as we cling to the watchword of true patriotism: ‘Our country—when right to be kept right; when wrong to be put right.’”

We recently came across an article by Noah Millman in The American Conservative from 2017 about teaching children about patriotism, “if you want them to understand their country’s crimes and failures as well as its achievements.”  Love of country, he suggests, cannot be narrow because love, if true love, cannot ignore differences. He cited Chesterton’s comment as he outlined why patriotism cannot be selfish but must involve responsibility for others, just as love grows from an awareness of, and acceptance of, and a responsibility for another.

People feel an attachment, and a willingness to fight to protect, their homes, and their communities. That can take noble and ignoble forms — sometimes fighting to defend your community means committing injustice (as, for example, if you band together with your neighbors to prevent someone from a disfavored ethnic group from moving to the neighborhood). But the feeling is rooted in a direct experience, not an abstract attachment.

For any political community larger than a city, though, that attachment necessarily becomes abstract. So you need to teach your children why they should care about that larger community, be proud of it, and treat it as constituent of their identity…

Chesterton famously quipped that the sentiment, “my country, right or wrong” is like the sentiment, “my mother, drunk or sober.” But the thing about the latter is that she is your mother whether she’s drunk or sober — it’s just that your obligations change based on her condition. If she’s drunk, you won’t let her drive — instead, you’ll make sure she gets home safely.

The question, then, is how you teach your children to see their country as, in some sense, like a mother when their relationship is necessarily abstract rather than directly felt. A love of country based on the lie that your mother is never drunk will be too brittle to survive any kind of honest encounter with reality. But it seems to me equally problematic to say that you should love your country because it is on-balance a good one. Does anyone say about their mother that they love them because on-balance they are sober?

Filial love is first and foremost rooted in gratitude for existence itself. That applies to adopted children as well; we are not born able to fend for ourselves, but radically dependent on others’ love and care, and however imperfectly it was provided if we survived at all then it was provided in some measure. And that gratitude extends to the larger society. None of us were raised in the wilderness; whoever we are, we are because of the world that shaped us, and we are grateful to be ourselves even if we are not always happy being ourselves.

In this time when the word “patriot” has been abused and has been turned into a term of narrowness, when love of country has been defined as fear or hatred of those who are different and therefore unacceptable, when violence has become a sanctioned way of expressing patriotism, it is time to learn what love is.

Paul defined it for us in one of his letters to the believers at Corinth: “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered. It keeps no record of wrongs.”

Sounds like an outstanding definition of what a Patriot is, or should be. This is a time to be a Paulist Patriot. But being a Paulist Patriot will require a stern unwillingness to let Chesterton’s drunk mothers prevail.

I stand with Paul. And Schurz. And Lincoln.

I am a Patriot.

Will This Be Mike Parson’s “Lost Speech?”

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It was a pretty good speech, the one Governor Parson delivered Wednesday. It was the annual State of the State speech.  Governors have been giving them since Alexander McNair did the first one on November 4, 1822 at the start of the Second General Assembly of the State Of Missouri. The speech lasted about 17 minutes.  Governor Parson’s speech lasted about 42 minutes.

As far as we can determine, his speech was historic because it was the first SOS address that did not take place before a joint legislative session meeting in the House chamber.  Even in the St. Charles Capitol, where the House and Senate met in adjoining rooms, the Senate joined the House for McNair’s 1822 speech.

And, as far as we can determine, it was the first time a State of the State Address was not given during a joint session.  In fact it wasn’t given during a session of the legislature at all.  Neither chamber was in session. Another historical point.

Mark these circumstances down to an external historical event that had become too internal—the COVID-19 pandemic.  The House leadership decided Wednesday morning that the House could not be used because of fears the event would turn into a super-spreader of the virus.  The situation was so out of hand in the House that it didn’t even meet the previous week.

That near-last hour decision provoked a big scramble that resulted in moving the speech to the Senate where there is far less room for social distancing on the floor or in the galleries. We’ve heard there were concerns the Senate could muster a membership majority for an afternoon joint session.

As a result, neither chamber was in session. The Senate gave permission for the speech to be given there, much as it gives permission for the Silver-Haired legislature and other mock legislatures to use the chamber. Reports indicate about one-third of the Senate membership stayed away.

The House Information Office, which has a pretty sophisticated audio/video system it uses for special events in the House, managed to move all of its gear into the Senate galleries and strung all of its cables, and mounted all of its cameras in a matter of a few hours and produced a high-quality video feed on the governor’s Facebook page (maybe I’ll tell you sometime how close the Missourinet once came to beginning daily video feeds on its webpage many years ago).  I watched it.  I thought it was flawless.

The galleries of the Senate chamber were uncomfortably crowded with Parson cabinet members, guests who would become show-and-tell examples of certain points the governor wanted to emphasize, other special folks and as many House members as wanted to crowd in.

Normally, the House and the Senate appoint a special escort committee to escort the Governor into the House chamber.  But with neither chamber being in session there could be no escort committee—another possible first.

At the appropriate time, the back doors opened and in walked a masked Governor Parson.  Alone.  No handshakes on the way in, as usually happens.  Fist bumps only during the walk down the much-shorter than usual center aisle.

Forty-two minutes (and probably about 6,000 words) later, the governor put has mask back on and he and Teresa walked hand-in-hand back up the aisle and out of the chamber.  I’d never before seen a governor and First Lady walk back down the legislative aisle after a State of the State speech.  Another touch of history on that day.

There was no State of the State message in the First General Assembly—

—because we weren’t a state then.  Congress had given Missouri permission to elect a state legislature and state officers and draft a proposed State Constitution in 1820.  McNair gave the first state governor’s inaugural address on September 19, 1820, almost eleven months before Missouri was a state.  His three-minute speech was so short that a goodly number of legislators were still in a grog shop down the street in St. Charles and missed it. They wanted him to have a do-over and he refused.  Then came the 17-minute SOS in 1822.

As we have researched the history of the Capitol, we have come across a lot of State of the State messages in legislative journals.  Some are amazing.  For a good part of our history the governor did not deliver the message. He sent the message to the House, often with the Secretary of State or his personal secretary carrying it.  Then somebody read it.  And read it and read it.

And read it.

Long ago we learned that the average person speaks at about 150 words per minute.  It’s a natural pace for most of us. Any faster and the listener is tense, waiting for the next work.  Any faster, and clarity of speech might suffer.  So, using the 150 wpm standard, here’s how long some previous State of the State speeches have lasted.

On November 22, 1836 (the legislature in those days met after the harvest and quit in time for spring planting, “Lieutenant Governor and Acting Governor” Lilburn Boggs delivered a speech that covered seventeen pages of the House Journal. The word counter on my computer says the speech was 8,873 words long. Whoever read it probably took about an hour to give.  It’s hard to imaging many applause breaks since the big buy himself wasn’t reading it.  So there was little to keep people awake.  Maybe they didn’t suffer as much as we think because in those days church sermons of two or three hours were not uncommon and the listeners were sitting on split log benches without backs.

John Cummins Edwards, the youngest governor in Missouri up to that time, used 6,681 words in 1846, a more modest 45-minute speech, probably.

Sterling Price’s Christmas Day State of the State speech in 1854 was 7,114 words long, would have lasted a couple of minutes longer than Edwards did.  His speech took 12 pages of the House Journal.  We’re not sure if this was the first time it happened, but after the speech, the House ordered thousands of copies printed, including 2,000 copies in German—as more and more Germans started flowing into Missouri from their country that had been torn by revolutions for several years.

We ran out of energy on the John Marmaduke speech in 1887. It took up 19 pages.

Joseph Folk was a populist who was elected in 1904.  He was so full of ideas for cleaning up a corrupt government that his SOS took 14,071 words to express. All those words probably took two hours and 22 minutes to read.

TWO HOURS AND 22 MINUTES!

Forrest Donnell, the governor that majority Democrats tried to keep from taking office in 1941, gave his final SOS  on January 3, 1945. He could have spent a lot of time talking about his accomplishments steering our state through most of the World War, but he didn’t.  4180 words, 28-30 minutes.

The first State of the State given by Warren Hearnes in 1965 took 3,063 words.

By the time Donnell and Hearnes spoke, governors were delivering their own remarks. That is likely to be the greatest motivation not to talk endlessly.

The longest SOS we ever covered was Joe Teasdale’s first one.  Since the Missourinet broadcast it, we clocked it.  An hour and 17 minutes.  It seemed interminable.  And it was still more than an hour shorter than Folk’s message.

But unlike all of those other State of the State messages, the one given by Governor Parson this week might become a “lost speech.”   Why?

Because it wasn’t given to a joint session. In fact it wasn’t given to a session of either chamber of the legislature.

As we write this, we haven’t seen the journal from yesterday, Thursday, yet. But since the speech was given outside of the legislative day, it doesn’t qualify to be in the journal.  If that’s how it turns out, the speech will achieve still another historic first—-there won’t be an official record of it in either journal.  Perhaps a century from now somebody who has the questionable intelligence to spend hours reading legislative journals will wonder why there was no State of the State message in 2021.

There was one. Pretty good one. Well-delivered. Well-covered by the media. But if it’s not in the journals, it will be Mike Parson’s “lost speech.”

UPDATE:  The unapproved journals of the House and Senate for the day of the speech, which are available on the web pages of the chambers, do not include the speech.